Emmanuel Navarro stepped slowly into the warm waters of the sea to begin his prayers. While not a typical way to pray to Allah, this is where he felt his faith driving and strengthening him. The power of the waves cascading down to the beach as he knelt in the wet sand, salty spray penetrating his nose and soaking his shoulder-length black curly hair. Muslims controlled Barcelona in 950, but Christianity was slowly pushing into the Iberian peninsula, although he had very little exposure to this new, odd faith as a child of royals. As he sang to Allah, focused on the morning ritual, not taking much notice of the event that was occurring close to the black boulders to his right.
Dressed in plain black robes and sloshing through the surf carrying a large gold crucifix, four monks were leading a small group of men in white linen shifts down into the warm salty sea. Emmanuel looked up from his prayers, transfixed by the scene unfolding nearby. He noticed the men and women moving closer to the breakers and kneeling behind the monks and had to find out what power possessed them and what sort of god were they praying to. Rising up from his position, Emmanuel shook the sand off of his clothing and made his way closer to the group. As he padded across the sand, he heard chanting and singing in a haunting, rhythmic form that captivated him and drove him closer to the strangers. One monk took notice of him and called out.
“Join us, my son. All are welcome.” As Emmanuel joined the group, he noticed all the men in white were kneeling and speaking with both of their hands clasped together. Emmanuel cocked his head to one side, then the other, trying to discern what they were speaking.
“Latin, it is Latin, my son.” The monk explained. “The language of the Christians. These men are taking their vows to dedicate their lives to the faith and the church, giving up all their worldly possessions and living for God.”
“But why would anyone give up so much to gain so little?”
“They have witnessed miracles and have seen the fruit, la pera from the Garden of Eden and it has shown them the truth. These men were heathens, sorcerers, and pagans. Now they have seen the light.”
Emmanuel scoffed. “I don’t believe you. Where is this pear tree, this Eden?” Raising his hand, the monk pointed toward the imposing citadel towering over the beach.
“The Iman brought it back from the Holy Land for his orchard. Replanted here, our Lord used the tree to perform wondrous things, things even your leader found hard to believe. Plague being healed just by touching the rough trunk, sight restored with one bite of the sweet fruit, lame walking after laying within the roots.”
“Your way is full of rituals and belief in miracles. A tree that heals is like a snake that tells you stories.” Laughing, Emmanuel continued. “But I will see this pear tree, this wonder of wonders, holy man.” Shaking his head, he strode off across the sand to the citadel to dispel the secret of the fruit.
It did not prepare his senses for what awaited him at the entrance of the citadel - Muslim warriors in groups with Christian monks. Starry-eyed women kneeling and praying throughout the grey slimy steps. Throngs of children running with baskets of sea-green pears spilling over into the street and the random metal crucifix hanging inconspicuously over door frames. This city is nothing like Cadiz.
Following the crush of people through the narrow, curvy streets, it filled him with curiosity to see why anyone would worship a pear tree. As he got closer to the orchard, he was struck by how the surrounding people changed from a noisy mob to reflective pilgrims. As the throng moved into the massive gardens of the citadel, Emmanuel felt an odd sensation as the skin on his arms prickle and an odd sort of warmth spread through his body as he came upon the pear tree. Unassuming and normal among all the other fruit trees, except for the crowds of people reaching for the leaves, the trunk, the roots or the shiny pears. Emmanuel felt drawn into the mob and they moved to allow him access to the power and life force emanating from the tree. It was bigger than anything he had ever experienced. Just one brief touch across the skin of a glistening pear brought him to his knees and a feeling of unimaginable peace and comfort filled him, from his calloused bare feet to the top of his head. All the answers poured into him and from that moment, everything was different, fresh, and beautiful and he knew what he must do.
“Maria, be careful. That has traveled across many rivers and valleys to get here. Back to my home.” Emmanuel bent down to eye level with his young daughter.
“Papa, why? Why is this here in our garden?”
“My sweet Maria. This tiny tree has come from a pear tree in Barcelona that has shown me what love truly is. This is a piece of Eden and a love that will last forever and ever. We must nurture and protect it always. It is our family obligation and we must stop at nothing to make sure that happens. The world must always know the truth and how it changes people’s lives.”
About the Creator
Michael J Massey
I am a Care Manager, amateur boxer-in-training, chaplain that enjoys spending hours crafting short story fiction. Published author and screenplay writer.
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