ENTRY 39 -- The Moon Turned to Blood

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An Excerpt from the Travel Journal of Nigel Fox (c.1945)

ENTRY 39 -- The Moon Turned to Blood



"I think I should like to meet the Indian Messiah," I told Miss Wilkes as we continued our conversation at supper that evening. "When I was in Lahore, I heard that he has the power to heal the sick and bring the dead to life."

Miss Wilkes looked aghast. "I do not believe God works like that."

"I tend to agree," I said sympathetically. "Yet, I was told several stories about his miracles. The people seemed rather sincere. Some of the tales were obviously embellished, but one fellow I met maintained that Bapu had saved his life. Apparently this gentleman had taken too much fine Canadian rye whisky and fell off the back of a moving train. According to him, he hit the ground by the side of the track, then tumbled down a sharp incline, at least one hundred feet. The man himself told us he sustained no injuries, the reason for this miracle being the presence of the Mahatma on the train!"

"And, my dear Mr. Fox, did you also hear what the Mahatma had to say about that miracle?"

"Noooo . . . "

"He responded by saying if he did indeed have any magical powers he would have stopped this drunken man from drinking in the first place!"



As the weeks went by, I was beginning to fathom the spiritual dimensions of India's great leader. There could be little doubt that he was no ordinary man; my quest was running its appointed course. Yet, I was 'off the rails', as it were. The Reverend H. Nigel Fox was being side tracked by his passionate feelings for Miss Wilkes. This infatuation grew as we spent time together working in the lush gardens or roaming the foothills of the mountains. I was man out of control.

An Invitation

Late one afternoon upon returning to my quarters I found a note written in Miss Wilkes' bold hand. It was an invitation to come to her private chamber immediately. Curious, I proceeded to her room forthwith. When I rapped, she opened the door and asked me inside. The setting sun was shining through a large window behind her. That, together with the homespun cotton dress she wore, produced a most exciting silhouette, revealing every detail of her body. I caught my breath. So very lovely, so very captivating, so very alluring; she was a diamond in a simple setting. Her boudoir was modest, enchanting and very feminine. It somehow was permeated with the warmth of her personality: curtains and bedspread were made from the same homespun material as her dress.

"Our new batch of wine is ready, Mr. Fox, and I wanted you to be the first to sample it. I believe it is the finest we have ever produced," she announced proudly.

She was correct. The wine was phenomenal. We found ourselves toasting to the joy of our life together and talking well into the night. At one point we became somewhat peckish and feasted on fresh-baked bread and the valley's excellent cheese.

My Sudden Advance

We were feeling a healthy glow from the wine, as she raised her glass and proposed another toast: "Mr. Fox, may our intimate friendship endure forever!" There was a certain nuance in that last statement that most definitely was not lost upon me! 'Intimate' friendship. My mind pondered those words, as Miss Wilkes crossed the room with a second bottle of wine.

She was the most beautiful person in the world. I was totally enchanted and indisputably smitten. Possibly the wine provoked my brazen behaviour -- or maybe it was the intoxicating effects of my passion -- in any event, I walked towards her impulsively, boldly, and embraced her. The shock of my sudden advance caused Miss Wilkes to drop the unopened bottle. It made a loud thud as it hit the rug, but did not break.

To my delight, there was no resistance on her part. We drew closer. Miss Wilkes was silent as her lips touched mine, our mouths no longer inlets for air and sustenance, our tongues no more instruments of colloquy; rather portals of pleasure. The warmth of our love slowly grew into the heat of desire. Our yearnings were so powerful we could not resist. Unknown feelings welled up in us with a powerful force for which there are no words. I lost track of time; of everything save Miss Wilkes. Our spooning was more than the erotic touching of two lovers: our kissing breathed life into every fibre of our being. Spirits merged into one. . .

A Definite Flare for Romance

We held each other for quite some time. "I do love you," I whispered, then paused for a moment and said, "but I feel rather convicted about our love-making . . . not being married . . . "

"Then let us get married now, assuming that your last remark qualifies as a proposal."

"But where would we find a clergyman at three in the morning?" I gasped, incredulous.

"What am I lying in bed with . . . chopped liver?"

She led me by the light of the blue moon along a path on which she had never taken me. I must confess that Hettie had a definite flare for romance. However, I have always been of the opinion that Holy Matrimony is a serious affair, not to be entered lightly. At this point my concerns had a more practical bent: "Will our marriage be legal?"

"Of course," she said. "Here in the valley I am the law. I shall take care of everything. You're not getting cold feet?"

"Most certainly not!" I puffed indignantly. In truth I was happier than I had ever been. Celibacy no longer held any attraction for me: I truly wanted to make her my wife!

It was a most glorious night, totally still, very warm and bathed in moonlight. Hettie piloted me to her most special place in the mountains. Although it had been a rather lengthy expedition for the wee hours of the morning it had been well worth the effort. From our vantage point we could see the entire valley and the snow-capped summits in all directions. It was as if we sat in the palm of God's hand, the blue moonlight glowing celestially round us. I felt we had strayed into another universe.

With no rings, no prayer book, no human witnesses, just a Bible; I began the service. It came straight from the heart: "We are gathered together in the presence of God to join ...."

With only the assistance of the deep blue moonlight eminating from a solitary grand sapphire above, Hettie read from the Song of Songs, her voice passionate and deep: "O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth. For your love is better than wine . . . "

I responded, in kind, with the lines of the bridegroom: "the curve of your thigh is a work of art, crafted by the Master. Your . . . "

And so we continued . . .

It was then we declared our vows before God. Most people commit themselves to each other 'until death do us part,' but we committed ourselves to each other forever. By the time I had pronounced us man and wife, dawn was breaking with a burst of colour over the sparkling white mountain crests.

As we rose to leave, I noticed her body had tensed. She stood perfectly still, gazing at the moon, which was still visible. My eyes followed hers: the orb had turned blood red! "Strange," she commented quietly, "it has never done that before, even at dawn." And for a moment we both had a premonition of impending malevolence.

Elated

For a wedding gift, Hettie gave me a very old Hebrew transcript of the Song of Songs. It became part of my evening devotions. The days that followed were filled with romance and lovemaking. The years dropped away: my body felt no older than it had at 35. Was it because we were in love? Was it the good food and exercise? I suspected it may have had something to do with the hot springs. In any event, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I felt that I had found paradise!

Hettie and I made many plans for the future. I told her a bit about my quest (she was wonderful in that she respected my privacy), and that I planned to spend the rest of my life in the valley, writing. She offered to arrange an interview for me with the Mahatma, (who I reverenced and worshipped as the most heroic man ever to have lived). The Reverend Harold Nigel Fox, Junior was elated.

The Madness

My quest was now going rather well. I had determined that India's Messiah had a simple if familiar gospel: love one another. If someone hits you on one cheek you must turn the other. People must love their enemies and pray for those who persecute them. The atomic bomb, tanks, and guns grieve the Almighty! A single man armed only with the Love of God is more powerful than a thousand soldiers. Violence under any circumstances is unacceptable to God. This Great Soul was critical of Judaism, for salvation was not to be found in following the letter of the law but rather its spirit. He hated the 'Christian religions,' as they had betrayed Christ. He believed the sword of Islam must be sheathed or all would perish. The Hindu caste system he described as contemptible.

Yet to the Jews who met him, he was the Messiah; to Muslims the Madhi; to Hindus the Mahatma; and to Christians he was the most Christ like person in the past two thousand years ! He was said to be irresistible. My meeting with him would answer many questions.

There was one cloud on the horizon, however. Enoch had not yet returned to escort me back to Lahore. Sharing my worry with Hettie, she agreed that it did seem odd that Enoch would stay away so long. It was not like my staunch friend to leave me there, stranded, as it were. I could not shake a horrid sense of foreboding.

A week before the wedding was to take place, Hettie and I contacted Enoch by radio. He sounded agitated and terribly overwrought. Grieved might be a better word.

"I am going to miss Colin's wedding," I said sternly.

"The young Padre sahib is no more," croaked an almost unrecognisable voice. Enoch sounded as if he were collapsing under a great weight: "He was killed in the madness. The world has gone mad. The rivers are flowing red with blood."



Links:

The Moon Turned to Blood

Messiah

Christ

Mahdi

Mahatma

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