The Rosary (Short Story)

It was a bright, warm summer day in New Ulm. The birds were singing happily in the trees, the countryside basking in the warm sunshine. Nearby the mighty River Rhine flowed gracefully downstream to the sea.

The streets of the town, usually filled with happy villagers of all ages, were today completely deserted. A cat prowled on it's beat across the street, but apart from this there were no obvious signs of life.

However the occasional loud bang and thump shattered the peaceful rural scene. Strangely enough these loud noises were coming from the little church, the old medieval church that had stood at the centre of town for nearly a thousand years.

Today clustered in the old church was the entire village, plus many invited dignitaries. The local bishop was present, watching the proceedings, together with all the dignatories of the local Nazi party. A camera team from the ministry of propaganda had also descended on the town, filming today's events. Inside the church Gestapo men in their distinctive trench coats mingled obtrusively with the crowd.

A gang of workmen had been using sledge hammers to try and knock holes into the West wall of the church, under close supervision of course.

It had all started several weeks earlier. A visitor to the church had noticed a discrepancy in the wall and brought it to the attention of the curator, the visitor thought the dimensions were all off.

Experts and surveyors came to pay a visit, after thorough examination they declared that there was a small space within the wall, enough to conceal a small object like a chest.

Rumours spread through the little town, wild stories of ancient treasure hidden within the church walls. The local Nazi party members soon heard of it and a work party was organised to search for this 'hidden treasure'. The great treasure hunt had attracted all sorts of attention!

The bangs of the sledge hammers against the old wall were having an effect. Pieces of masonry law strewn over the floor and the air was thick with dust. It was sheer vandalism inspired by greed, the lust for gold!

Eventually the regular sound of hammering was interrupted, there was indeed a space in the wall! The audience waited with bated breath, the Nazi functionaries glared greedily. One of the workmen reached his hands into the tiny abyss, after much groping and pulling his hand emerged with a small wooden box in his hands. It was a stout oak box, venerable through age. The workman handled it gently, not through reverence of this hallowed old object but through fear of the Nazi functionaries who lusted after what surely lay inside............

The Nazi mayor of the town stepped forward, eager to give himself the honour of opening this treasure chest, eager to be in tomorrow's Nazi Newsreels.

The Mayor's fat hands fumbled with the box, but eventually managed to prise it open. He eagerly peered inside, his voracious expression soon changed into one of complete confusion. Only now, after a moment's pause did the mayor hand the box over to the representative of the church, the bishop. The bishop tentatively looked inside, a similar expression of bewilderment appeared on his face.

All the while the people watched in dazed anticipation, the cameras continued to roll, the Gestapo waited like hawks, ready to arrest anyone who showed even a hint of hostility to the regime.

The only man in the whole village who had not been present at the great treasure hunt was the local priest. He was an aged man of more than seventy years, a decent man, friend to the friendless and no friend of the Nazi regime. He now walked calmly into the church, his footsteps echoing off the marble floor. The air was so quiet that you could literally hear a pin drop!

The bishop was eager to get rid of this box, he passed it to the aged priest, pawning it off onto him. The contents of the box were a huge disappointment to him and he didn't want to be the one who broke the bad news to the world and to the Gestapo. No, the expendable old priest could do it!

The old priest looked down into the box and smiled. He alone was not disappointed by this unexpected treasure. Some priest, back in the mists of time must have left this small box as an object lesson, a demonstration of the true treasure of the church.

The old priest lifted out the first item in the box for the crowd of villagers to see. It was a set of rosary beads, just plain old well used rosary beads. Almost worn out through use these were a reminder to the faithful not to neglect prayer.

The second item in the box was a feather. The old priest held it up for everyone to see. Nazi Germany could produce thousands of warplanes, battleships and tanks, but something as intricate and naturally beautiful as a feather was beyond them!  Such a sublime act of creation came only from the supreme creator. 

By this time the villagers were looking at each other, exchanging bemused glances. Yes, they had been seduced by the thought of treasure, by the false gospel of these Nazi party officials. The meaning of these long hidden objects was beginning to strike their consciences.  They had made a pact with the devil in the guise of a swastika and were now heartily ashamed of it.   

The Nazis meanwhile were yet too bemused to speak, the camera was still rolling, still recording these quite unexpected proceedings.

Now the old priest reached into the box and produced the final item, a handful of sand. The sands of time, these reminded the people of the fleeting nature of existence. He picked it up in his clenched fist then began to pour it out onto the stone floor of the church.

'Observe' he said, 'look at the grains of sand as I scatter them on the floor. One day that is all that will remain of this filthy third Reich!'

The villagers began to slip out of the church as the Gestapo moved forward to arrest the old priest.