THE PREACHER GALADAIRUS
In the unwalled tent village of Slavath there was a Nasilian man named Galadairus who lived off of the kindness of people’s giving. He would bury their dead and take upon himself their sin in exchange for food. Galadairus was only known by the people at such trying times of great sorrow; for he remained the forgotten thin man, who sat on the road that led to the city. When the Sin-eating Preacher spoke he was always respectfully listened to by passerby’s who gathered crowds to heed his rare wisdoms.
On one such occasion there stood two men in a loud, heated argument over the new policies of the Mitharian King. For it was in those days when Lord Nuthcorlan had demanded stricter taxes levied upon the realm of Eriduah. Galadairus spoke up, silencing the two men with, “There shall come one from the desert of Orid who will strike fear even in the stone heart of that arrogant King. All your concerns will fall at his feet, and even the crown will be made to heed the words of that Prophet. But I tell you now, he will be but the forerunner of more to follow with even stronger admonishments. Even we here are not alone in kneeling before the demands of truth and accountability. High are the standards of the Divine King we shall all kneel before one day.”
At this one of the men who had been arguing said, “Sir, how is it even possible that you come to know these things?”
“Ask instead, how is it that you do not know such things?” Then Galadairus turned aside and walked back to where he had been sitting on the roadside, looking the other way.
There came a time, again in the tent village of Slavath, when a young girl had lost her grandmother to death and asked the preacher Galadairus what had become of her in the afterlife. Being seated he began to answer the crying child, but as a crowd had begun to gather, he stood and addressed them as well. Galadairus said, “In dreams, little one, you may find both the living and the dead together. They are viewed as the same; for the dead are not seen as specters of smoke but as they were once known. For in death, we are in the realm of the Divine, and are also in all times present, known by the Divine who created the concept of time and death.
But as for the dead they know nothing beyond their life’s closing experience, and the continuance of the living is no longer their care.
Death is the single path which all Men must pass along, and the only door which is shared by all. Through it lies the Realm of the Dead. The dead know nothing beyond their life’s experience, and those whom they have left behind retain only the faintest of their shared experiences, for no one life is known to everyone but to the dead themselves alone.
Nine are the vast labyrinth levels in that realm, and eight gates there are to the only Bridge of Finality. It spans the gulf of Loss. None but the righteous only may pass, as the wicked are halted. Beyond that guarded bridge of the Dead are three doors, free-standing and only after entering are their judgements pronounced.
Through one, the wicked who elude the Guardian find themselves reentering the realm of the Dead and this memory intact. Through one door, beyond the great bridge is the free-standing door known only to he that enters; absorbed into the brilliance of the true Light! Others in that Light who were once known in life care now only to know the Light. Through one of the standing doors, the third unnumbered the dead may pass. On its other side the Bridge Guardian offers the bowl of forgetfulness upon reincarnation. Reborn back into the realm of the living at the moment of their departure with no recall of their journey, if perchance such is eluded none shall recall them and their view changed only to die again, for such is the glorious doom of men.”
Out in the audience, listening to the Preacher of Slavath was a young couple newlywed and madly in love. They embraced one another throughout Galadairus’ sermon, but the young bride became saddened by all the talk of death and separation.
Seeing the welling tears in her eyes the young husband, Marsol took his bride’s face in his hands, saying, “I will love you throughout all eternity, and never forget you.” Then with a beaming smile added, “If, perchance I am allotted to choose that third door, I will spend a lifetime in search of you.” Then taking her right hand said, “You will know without doubt it is me, by his name and this kiss.”
Now, as is the cruelty that life plays at times, three days later the young husband was thrown from his horse frightened by a crossing serpent. Minshana, his bride bitterly wept over his loss, vowing before everyone on the day of his burial never to marry again.
As the years are prone to do, one season followed the other in rapid session until Minshana came into her sixtieth year. On the very day of her only husband’s death a man sat beside her as she drew water from the Square’s main well.
“Stranger,” she asked, “would you care for a cool drink? From the looks of you dusted sandals; surly your travels have been long and difficult.”
He nodded with an endearing smile. But as the older woman reached for the pale to draw more water just for him, the man slowly took her hand and kissed it, saying, “As Galadairus is my witness, I have always loved you Minshana for it is indeed I. I chose the third door and have returned to you.”
They embraced tearfully for a long while, then crying she whispered, “I spent a lifetime loving you always without fail, Marsol knowing your search would find me.”
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