BEARING THE CROSS
By Neel Anil Panicker
Reverend Father Thomas Isaac Kuriakose held, with quivering hands, the sword’s handle, its pure leather coated edges emanating warmth that belied the otherwise gloomy thoughts surging through his troubled heart.
It’s was touted to be an Excalibur__ the very best, an exact replica of the one that adorned the walls of The Royal Museum of Ancient Artifacts, Greece.
“It’s one of a kind. Alexander the Great had used it to masterly effect to slay his innumerable enemies.”
So pronounced Roberto Pedro Konstantinos.
“Back home everyone calls me Kostas”, the ex-disciple of the septuagenarian man of God had said while unveiling the majestic silver bladed sword, the steel edges down to its hilt shimmering like a thousand stars under the harsh glares of the Alleppy summer sun.
That was seven months ago, and today Father Kuriakose recalled the thoughts that had birthed in his mind then.
‘Oh! my dear Kostas, what use do I, a Servant of God, have of this? Even holding one, an instrument of death is a sin? And who would I slay with this, when we, who spread the language of love and peace, have no enemies whatsoever”?
Kostas, having been born and bred in the finest traditions of Greek culture used all manner of charm and persuasion. Result: Alexander’s sword found its one residence in a corner, albeit well hidden from public eyes, adorning the ornately carved intricately designed fresco-ed walls of the century and half old Gothic style St. Thomas Holy Mass and Church.
Father Kuriakose closed his eyes, raised the sword and pointed it towards the brackish, his silent lips reading out the sacred Biblical verses___ sacred utterings that he was led to believe would purge the city of the menace of the serial killer. the one who had already slaughtered eight denizens, all under ten years old.
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