I am delighted to say that I have finished Tales of Brother Marcus II. It was two years in the writing; however, it is complete now and is currently being printed. Details are available at imagier.com.
In the first tale of Brother Marcus – The Rose Priory Dialogues – I discussed the esoteric teachings of an ancient tradition; carefully preserved down the ages within a reclusive – and elusive – monastic Order, and transmitted only on rare occasions to a chosen few outside.
In this second book, set in Britain in the distant past – in the ‘dark ages’ of Europe – I relate the story of Stefan, a young man sickened at the suffering caused by the endless and futile wars that have blighted his life. Stefan leaves his world to seek the legendary homeland of his ancestors where he hopes to find the means to restore peace and prosperity in his world. However, what he encounters is the mysterious Brother Marcus, and, assisted by Brother Marcus, he sets out on a long and dangerous journey to a distant monastery in which the objects of his quest may be found. It is a story rooted in the golden age of the ancient British Church wherein the spiritual world was far more important than cold logic of the post-Enlightenment rational world we live in today, where facts and not truth rules supreme.
But, you should know that this narrative is more than a simple tale of adventure. It is an allegorical exploration of temple symbolism that discusses and explores the secret life of the soul, a life that is central to those who have heard the ‘call’ and who are compelled to undertake a pilgrimage that leads them into the inner sanctum of Creation.
What inspired me to write this book was at first the encouragement I received from readers of The Rose Priory Dialogues, but what I found equally if not more inspiring is the multi-dimensional gulf that separates a ‘pilgrim’ from the objective of the pilgrimage, and the power of the pilgrimage itself to educate the pilgrim about the nature of the as yet unknown destination. I am particularly fond of page 1, not because it is well-written – I don’t see myself as a great writer – but because I’m rather fond of the way some of the symbols blend together. However, that is my conceit and I shall have to live with it.
If you read this book, I would be delighted to correspond with you, although I must warn any correspondent that I can be very slow in replying. You may contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org