Chapter 20

Gathering up the Petals

Emma and Shelly were about Stan like bees around a pot of honey. There were 36 hours left before they had to return to the States and they were exceedingly reluctant to do so. Indeed, nobody want them to go, Stan and I perhaps more than the others. It reminded me so much of the day I had to leave Raj for Missouri but praise God these two didn't leave with the dark cloud over them as was my lot. So powerful was the testimony of the rightness of their being a part of us, in large measure because of all that had happened the day before, that the Dedication ceremony was skipped altogether. It just wasn't necessary as all the parties concerned - Stan, Emma, myself and Shelly - had already fulfilled that ordinance's purpose. We didn't need more time to get to know. We already knew. The hell that I went through was spared both of these lovely sisters who, because of the amazing grace showered on them - and us - by the Saviour, just accepted the family wholesale. With Christ so evidently at the very centre of everything that had transpired, and was still transpiring, there wasn't room for any doubt. It just was. We knew it, we loved it, and we wanted it with every fiber of our being.

There aren't many who have been so blessed to get such a powerful witness as Emma and Shelly did. I guess in some ways it's easier accepting a bigger family than a small one the way I had to do, though I can't think for the life of me why that should be true. I'm sure others would disagree. But then logic really doesn't apply too much in plural marriage, does it? The fleshy nature has no logic to it other than to ensure the unwelcome fruits of chaos and destruction because of its contrary nature. The only ultimate "logic" is Messiah's sacrificial love, and if you've got that in abundance, you've pretty much got everything you need on which to build a firm foundation. And then Emma and Shelly, like Elisa and Salme, came into the family together, so there was no room for any of the petty jealosy that had squashed me flat when I came alone. They had no "Molly" to shadow-box. There were clearly benefits to the "Rea/Rua Way", if you were strong and mature enough for it.

The following evening Emma and Shelly were betrothed to Stan. How beautiful they looked! Between us we managed to find a couple of wedding dresses that fit. Holding hands as sister-wives, they covenanted themselves to Stan. And since Stan was in no position to "collect" them the customary biblical way, as had also been the case with most of us because of the huge distances that separated our homes; and as there was no need for Stan to build them a home while the bride awaited the coming of the bridgroom to escort her back to his father's house, so no fixed time was assigned for the full marriages. It was understood that as soon as they had wound up their affairs in San Diego - for Emma that would mean giving three months' notice to her employers - that they would be called back to Sweden for their full marriage with our blessed husband as soon as they were practically ready. As Shelly had few commitments and needed no such delay to quit her job, it was agreed she would move in with Emma and help her get her apartment sold.

As I looked at these two lovely women, and at Stan, and at the rest of us, and our children in that beautiful room where heaven and earth briefly meet in a sudden cascade of fountains of white, that familiar inner glow lit up my whole body like an enormous furnace again. Is this the state of the blessed in that Paradise which we so much yearn for? Is this an insight into the bliss that awaits us when we are reunited with our Yah'shua - our Jesus?

Emma and Shelly both wore a ring of intense carmine flowers in their hair, reminding me of the tongues of fire at Pentecost. Yes, that was what had happened - Kadesh-Naphtali was suddenly filled with colour again as though the summer had never gone. The effervescence of Shelly and the unpretentious, intense and fiery longing of Emma seemed to fuse into a shower of happiness that made everyone just want to leap for joy. What was it that these two extraordinary women had brought to us? What was it that was so special about them and so utterly different from the rest of us, even from me, an American like them? And yet Emma and I weren't that different.

There was, of course, no answer, because we had all brought something unique and infinitely precious into the family. Not one new wife had left the family unchanged or richly blessed.

Whatever fears Stan may have had about bringing these two sister-wives into the family at the beginning of their visit had long since evapourated. He was a transformed man too. I hadn't seen him so happy in a long time and rejoiced both for him and because I knew that that happiness would cascade back onto us too like a giant wave breaking on Yahweh's delighted children standing on the seashore of life. Indeed, it already had. I learned long ago that far from being a threat, each new wife was a glorious blessing, for she would release a power in our husband that none of us had been able to tap which would in turn flow back into us. That was the miracle of plural marriage when done, properly submitted to God. It was the kind of plural marriage that Yahweh had revealed to our husband which, we believed, existed nowhere else on the face of the earth.

As I looked at one of the Azaleas in Shelly's hair, I seemed to disappear within myself and saw, as it were, a face of a sister-wife in each petal, looking inwards to the centre where I saw Stan. And then, like pollen flying into the air, I saw all our children like a cloud, heaven-bound and heading off in different directions towards the destinies which Yahweh had predeterminbed for their lives, and they, in their turn, becoming Azaleas until they all joined together into a garland on the head of the Saviour, the crown of His pleasure in marriages brought to heavenly fruition.

There seemed to be no end of dedications, betrothals and marriages, not only in our family but in the other families of the community too. Like J.B.Priestly's vision of the seagulls being born, flying, and dying, generation after generation, and then merging into one continuous collage, so it seemed that the polygamous dream that Stan had nurtured for so long was finally coming to pass.

Emma and Shelly returned to California and for a few months disappeared from our lives as they made the necessary arrangements for their relocation to Sweden. Upon arriving home, the two kept in daily contact and forged an ever deepening friendship, visiting Christian polygamous friends of Stan for fellowship in Ensenada, Mexico, at weekends, whenever possible.

News of what had happened to us at the "San Diegan Anointing" spread like wildfire not only among the various firstborn communities that were forming globally but word had started seaping into the local New Covenant fellowships too. And it would just be a matter of time before it began percolating into other Christian and messianic groups and from there into the world. That inevitably meant accounts would mutate and acrete fictitious layers, the way rumours do. It had never occurred to us that we might start attracting unwelcome attention from all sorts of people - from "the good, the bad, and the ugly".

About a week after the Emma and Shelly had returned home to the States, Stan's 'phone rang while we were eating breakfast one morning.

"Good morning, sir!" replied Stan, with a respectful tone in his voice. I had never heard our husband address anyone as "sir" before, except maybe a very elderly brother for he always showed deference and respect to those who were old enough to be his father.

He paused.

"Yes...yes of course," he said after a pause. "We look toward to seeing you, sir. Yahweh bless you, and safe journey!" and turned his 'phone off.

We were all dying of curiosity.

"What was that about, master?" asked Sarah-Jane eagerly.

"The Founder and two others will arrive this evening and has requested that we get two rooms ready for him. He wouldn't say anything more."

The breakfast table was abuzz with excited chatter. The Founder had never visited us before and though a visit to us had long been on the cards, nothing until now had ever been formalised because of busy ministry schedules.

"My lord?" asked Andreea. "What is the Founder's name and how should we address him?"

Several of us nodded, wondering the same. We had only ever questioned Stan about the Founder once before and he had said mystifyingly little.

"All I can tell you," Stan said, "is that he is based in Kadesh-Ephraim, the central community, which is just getting started. No one knows where it is though there has been speculation it's in Finmark in northern Norway, or perhaps Spitzbergen, or even in the Outer Hebrides in Scotland. Others say it's in the Faroe Islands, the Shetland Islands or the Orkney Islands. Nobody knows his nationality either though from his accent some say he's from Serbia, others from Ireland. As for his birth name, nobody seems to know that either. People just call him 'sir' (if they don't know him well) or 'brother' (if they do) when addressing him, his wives call him as you all call me ('my lord' or 'master' or the equivalent in other languages), and formally we just call him the 'Founder'. As for the reason he's coming here I (before you ask me that question) I think it may have something to do with what just happened when Emma and Shelly were here."

We said no more both because we understood Stan knew no more and because we didn't want to start speculating. We'd soon know all we needed. Breakfast was concluded and we set about our daily tasks. These days I was much occupied with Tom.

Later the same evening, around 8 p.m, a denim-blue-coloured Volvo stationwagon pulled up outside the front door. Out of the back door of the car nearest the herrgård stepped a tall, white-haired and white-bearded man man supporting himself with a cane, in his late 60's I would estimate, whom Stan, Sarah-Jane and Kasia immediately recognised as the Founder from their Wittenberg trip. A small, white, short-cropped whispy-haired woman emerged from the other side of the car and joined the Founder, supporting him with her arm. A somewhat younger, quite tall woman with long flowing black hair and an aquiline nose emerged from the driver's door whom Sarah-Jane and Kasia, the Wittenberg sister-wives, also immediately recognised as the Founder's most recent wife. But I had never seen any of them before. Then things started clicking in my head for Kasia had played Astara's Waltz just after Stan's proposal to Emma and Shelly and told me that it was named for the Founder's most recent wife. "Could this be her, then?" I thought to myself. What none of us knew, Stan included, was who the short mysterious woman with white hair was.

Stan and his eldest wife, Suszana, went outside to welcome the Founder and his entourage and escorted them up the steps and into the house. All of us were waiting in the lobby to greet the visitors.

"May I introduce all of you to the Founder," said Stan to us, "and to his most recent wife, Astara (whom you already know Sarah-Jane and Kasia, of course). I'm sorry I don't know who..."

Stan paused as he didn't know the other woman's name at all, thinking she was perhaps another of the Founder's wives, none of whose names anyone knew except his Anglo-Eritrean wife, Maryam, who accompanied Astara to Wittenberg and who Kasia had befriended.

"This is Estelle, Astara's elder sister, who is currently visiting us from France," said the Founder in his deep, resonant voice.

Stan was as much taken by surprise as the rest of us and was speechless for a moment. His eyes met Estelle's and he "knew". His heart was pounding, though only he could of course hear it, but we could tell that he had had another Emma-type moment. I swear I caught sight of a tear of recognition in his eyes. It felt to me, who knew his heart so well by now, as though he were being reunited with a long-lost lover. The rest of us sister-wives curtsied as Stan introduced us one by one to the guests.

"Very nice to see you again, Stan, and also you, Sarah-Jane and Kasia," responded the Founder. "If you don't mind, my sister-in-law and I would be grateful if we could sit down. It's been a long journey...and some glasses of water would be much appreciated, if we might trouble you further."

Andreea and Kasia escorted the elderly pair to the chaise longue in the living room while Anna fetched water. Sarah-Jane went up to Astara, locked her arm with hers, and took her to the sofa next to her husband. It was plain the two had struck up a relationship in Wittenberg, for they were smiling at one another. Estelle spotted the large white grand piano, glancing at it briefly with longing in her eyes. It was then I remembered Stan had told me she had been a concert pianist in her youth. The two sisters bore little resemblance to each other, perhaps in part because of their age difference. All three gratefully sipped their glasses of mountain-fresh water. Estelle lifted her eyes up and looked at Stan sitting opposite. She kept staring at him as though she couldn't quite figure out whether he was a desert mirage or an actual flesh-and-blood human being. Or maybe she was just tired from their long journey as they had been on the move for nearly 8 hours - first from their home to their point of departure to Stockholm-Arlanda by air, and thence a three hour drive by car to Kadesh-Naphtali. I could tell she was trying to work something out but I wasn't sure what.

Cheery Anna broke the awkward silence by doing what Anna is best at: breaking awkward silences, usually with sudden, enthusiastic and usually unexpected, and sometimes embarrassing, questions.

"What should we call you?" she bluntly asked the Founder, turning to him. Stan was appalled at what he considered to be an over-familiar and impertinent question of one so revered by all New Covenant Christians but he was not at all perturbed. Indeed, he seemed amused by the charismatic Pole's directness.

"Most people just call me 'Brother' but if you like you can call me Gāngqin-jiā. That's what my wife Astara calls me," he replied, winking, "and now, thanks to her, most of her sister-wives." Astara beamed.

We looked at each other clueless. None of us had ever heard the name before or even knew what language it was from. It sounded oriental, but the Founder was definitely European. We were still trying to figure out his unusual accent when he broke the silence.

"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if you've never heard that name before. It's what I was called by the natives growing up in China. It's Mandarin for 'steel zither-player'."

Astara giggled, looking up adoringly into the Founder's eyes. No one was able to remember the name for some time so we stuck with "sir" and '"brother".

"Would you three care for a warm meal?" asked Suszana. "We have one all ready for you if you would."

They nodded gratefully and thanked her. When Astara spotted a heap of steaming mashed potatos on a serving dish being wheeled out of the kitchen on a trolly into the dining room, her eyes immediately lit up like two miners' lamps, as the word was that the Founder's youngest bride had a penchant for pommes purée. That and escalope de poulet - thin cuts of steamed chicken breast with finely chopped salad. She had apparenly eaten almost nothing else in Wittenberg.

The conversation at one end of the long dining room table consisted of small talk as the Founder and Estelle were extremely tired from their journey.

"I know you are all anxious to learn about the purpose of our visit," the Founder finally said, "but I hope you'll appreciate that Estelle and I are exhaused and so I ask to be excused for the night."

"Yes, of course, sir, we fully understand," responded Stan, now in full old-world mode.

"But it would be remiss of me not to say anything at all," he added. "I am sure you have guessed, in part, that this visit has something to do with the Anointing when you held the dedication of your two latest wives, Stan. Are they by any chance here? I don't seem to remember your introducing them to me..."

"No, I'm afraid not, sir, they are back in America preparing for their final return here in a few months."

"A pity, but no matter," said the Founder. "I was looking forward to meeting them just as I was Sarah-Jane and Kasia in Germany. Perhaps next time. I do have some important matters to discuss with you in the morning as it relates not just to the Anointing itself...which is something I have been anticipating for a very long time myself...but to the way we handle delicate information so that we do not prejudice the safety of our people and mission."

Stan looked worried.

"Don't look so troubled, Brother Stan, I believe this will diffuse fast enough provided in future we keep such matters strictly to ourselves. I would have preferred to have learned this from your own mouth, rather from a lay member in our local New Covenant fellowship! I have no idea how that information turned up there, but it shouldn't have. Fortunately no one took her seriously."

Stan blushed. He knew that could only mean someone in our family or someone else in the community had talked about it indiscretely. Then he saw Kasia blushing and knew where the leak had come from but said nothing there and then so as not to show her up.

"We'll not say anything more about that today, as what's done is done. The other and more important reason I am here is because it is time for us to communicate with each other in a new way. The times are getting harder and harder as the surveillance state spies on us more and more making all forms of electronic communication insecure. Plus I am not getting any younger and can't make many more journey's like this one to you. I have been talking to Heavenly father a lot about this and it's soon time we were able to conduct our business without being observed or listened in to."

The meal ended, and Sarah-Jane and Kasia escorted the Founder and his young French wife to their room, quietly chatting about the house's layout on the way to the East Wing.

"If you don't mind, mon beau-frère," Estelle said in a broad French accent to her brother-in-law, "I would like to remain 'ere a short while before I retire."

The Founder smiled and acknowledged the courtesy with a slight nod, while my two "Wittenberg" sister-wives escorted the couple to their room.

"Avec votre permission," she asked Stan, "I would like to play you something on your beautiful grand piano. Musique is in my blood and I usually play before I go to bed. It 'elps me sleep."

"Of course, chère madame," replied Stan, bowing slightly, quickly shifting into the ways of the French court of the Ancien Régime which was in his blood. "N'hésitez pas."

"Merci, m'sieur," came the polite, formal reply. Estelle arose, walked slowly over to the piano, sat gracefully on the upholstered long bench seat, paused, and lifted the piano lid silently. Turning to Stan with a gentle smile on her face, she then said in informal French: "Pour toi, mon chouchou."

Stan caught the last word immediately, for 'chouchou' in French this is a most affectionate term meaning "darling".

"La Libellule," she said, announcing the title. Stan sat up even more attentively. "Gāngqin-jiā loves this," she added, looking at Stan, "as it has become my sister's too. You see, when she first met her husband - my brother-in-law - this was what he was playing too."

So the Founder was a pianist as well, or so I supposed he must have been.

Estelle began to play a piece that Stan not only knew exceedingly well, but had loved dearly since childhood. Tears welled up in his eyes and he could barely hold himself aback from weeping as she played with such gentelness and sensisivity. How could she possibly have known?

Stan was mesmerised, mystified, transfixed, as soft as melted butter in his heart, not just because the performance was flawless but because it was played note-perfect from memory in an intimate, knowing way that resonated with his own soul. Estelle looked Stan in the eyes the whole time. When she finished everyone clapped enthusiastically. Spotting Stan's more than astonished look, she simply said, apparenly answering Stan's silent question: "Father told me." Stan was speechless, lifted his eyebows, nodded his head, and smiled, trying not to betray his intense feelings.

Estelle stood up.

"And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to retire too. It's been a very long day." She faced us all, and added, to the point: "Good night."

Taking his cue, Stan arose, offered his arm, and escorted his guest to her door in the East Wing next to the Founder's room. Pausing, he took her right hand in the gentlemanly way, and kissed it.

The two looked deeply into each other's eyes for at least a whole minute. Wordless communication in progress. Estelle took both Stan's hands, and softly whispered, "Je t'aime, mon cher Stanisław."

Stunned, Stan opened her door to let her in. No one had ever called him by his full name before except Kryztina and then only rarely. And no woman had ever been so direct with him in a first encounter. Estelle stepped inside. "Bon nuit!", she said softly, reached over to lay a hand on his arm, steadying herself, raised herself on her toes, kissed him on his cheeks three times the French way, and quitely closed the door behind her. Just like that.

Stan stood staring at her door, still hypnotised, never having experienced a woman like Estelle before. And then he remembered what the Founder had said in Wittenberg...that a women would come from the land of my western-most European ancestors, she would be much older than me and "come at the very end", and become my, and Sarah-Jane's, 'quintuplet' or 'quin' sister-wife. Emma, my quad, had recently come, and my western most ancestors in Europe were the French, hence my French name Hélène. Estelle fulfilled every particular of the Founder's prophecy so he must have known who she was, which was why he had brought her on this visit to Kadesh-Naphtali and not another wife as he had previously to Germany! But how did she - Estelle - know? Did the Founder tell her? That would have broken our code never to reveal to the spouses of others that we had been shown by the Lord in a revelation who they were to marry. Or, more likely, was she taken by surprise? I would have to wait until the following morning to find out.

The Founder and his young wife were up early the next morning, Estelle following an hour later as she had stayed up to play the piano and to pray late into the night. Stan, Sarah-Jane and Kasia were already talking with them when I arrived, to be followed by Andreea, as the Founder wanted to know more about our quintuplet. Astara was, I gather, her usual bouncy self, a far cry from her much older, more sober sister.

"Good morning, sir," I said to him, "I hope you are well rested after your long trip."

"I am," he said, thanking me. "So you are Hélène...I have heard much about you...all positive, I'm happy to say"

I blushed, not knowing how to respond. The perfect gentleman, he spotted my embarrassment, smiled, and shifted his attention away and to his continental breakfast. The Founder chatted informally with all the sister-wives in turn as they filed in for breakfast, introduceding themselves and their children, and so got to know us better, while Sarah-Jane and Kasia bantered incessantly with Astara.

"Astara often speaks of you both, Sarah-Jane and Kasia, isn't that so, mon chérie?"

"Oui, maître," she replied with such reverence and love that I could see the two had a very deep connection indeed.

I dared to ask, emboldened by Anna the day before.

"How did you and Astara meet?"

The Founder smiled, recalling with great affection an event from the recent past.

"On my travels to visit a newly formed fellowship in eastern France. I and my team were passing through a charming little town in the Moselle region of Lorraine on our way to Metz called Château Salins. It was a sunny Thursday morning. It was Market Day and I wanted to buy some fruit to take with us so we stopped and strolled through the Place de la Saline. Such a beautiful place on a perfect summer's day. We bought some peaches and pears and then I spotted a piano in the middle of the square. No one was playing it. I got the urge, asked a passerby if it was permissable to play it, and was told anyone could. There are such street pianos all over Europe. So I sat and played La Libellule, having a strong conviction that I should. It was the Spirit speaking to me. For some reason, I poured my whole heart into it, undoubedly giving the best performance of my life.

"When I finished and looked up, two women were standing to the side and smiling...plus a few others who had gathered round to listen. The elder of the two women sat at the piano when I had finished and played some Debussy, the 'impressionist composer'. The pianist was almost as impressive herself. After the applause died down for each of our performances, and people returned to the market stalls, I got into a conversation with the two women. As you have doubtless gathered, it was Estelle and Astara. Astara had a flower stall there at that time while Estelle gave piano lessons at home when she wasn't serving in West Africa with the Paris Evangelical Missionary Society in Saint-Louis, Senegal. They were persuaded to join us for our conference in Metz the next day, got converted, and Astara accepted my invitation to join my family after some long discussions. Astara never went back, being enchanted by our way of life. Estelle did return and to this day plies back and forth between our home, Chateau Salins and Saint-Louis, so she's quite the seasoned traveler...or was as she's getting very tired now and wants to settle down.

We were all fascinated. The Founder rarely spoke much of his family so this was an enormous privilege.

Astara leaned in to the Founder's arm as he spoke. We wanted to ask more but Stan signalled us with that stare not to press either with any more questions. Estelle sat silently, not betraying her thoughts or feelings.

"Brother Stan," resumed the Founder, "you have every reason to be proud of your family. We are enjoying getting to know you at last. We have much to discuss. Your success here is much spoken of back home, and everyone in the other firstborn communities wants to emulate your successes. I understand the Beckinsales from England are on their way here to learn from you and the other families here. That's excellent. I know others want to visit too but I have told them not to press you as you're still getting settled after your dramatic move from Poland. Nevertheless Yahweh seems to have singled you out as a pioneer amongst us. You have gone much further down the Way than anyone else to date, thanks to the recent intervention of our Lord. Yahweh has richly blessed you, son. Incidentally, I sensed the recent anointing took place in the living room where we were seated yesterday evening. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir. You sat in the very centre of it."

Gāngqin-jiā smiled with satisfaction. He looked across to Astara:

"You must speak with Sarah-Jane and Hélène...and I believe Andreea too, not forgetting Kasia and Anna and the others. While I'm with Brother Stan I want you to learn all you can from them and bring that knowledge back home with you and share it with everyone. Will you do that?"

"Yes, master!" said Astara beaming, looking very pleasedm glad at the opportunty to experience another plural family and make herself useful at the same time.

"...if you sisters are agreeable, of course?" he added, looking towards us. "We don't want to unnecessarily intrude or disturb your routines."

We all nodded.

"And be sure to include your elder sister Estelle, Astara. I know she'll want to learn all she can too."

Estelle didn't answer or betray her thoughts but she was already keenly observing everything around her. This was apparently the second plural family she had ever met and was making mental comparisons.

Estelle and Astara briefly spoke together in French and then finished their breakfasts.

"Veillez à ne pas épuiser nos hôtes," Estelle said strictly to her younger sister, "ce sont des personnes très occupées."

Luckily my school French was up to scratch and I realised Estelle was mothering Astara (as she had been an orphan since turning 15 upon the death of their alcoholic mother, both having lost their father when Astara was little, and had therefore been almost raised single-handedly by Estelle), telling her not to exhaust us with taxing questions as we were very busy people!

"How are you managing with all the different languages your wives speak, Stan?" he asked. "Ever since Estelle came back from Senegal those two have spoken in French non-stop! I'm afraid I am getting a bit old to learn more languages, let alone polish up old ones. I believe you speak some French?"

"A little," said Stan nervously, not wanting to give a demonstration. "Aside from Romanian, Estonian, Finnish, Danish and Russian, I speak all the other languages my wives speak!" Stan was teasing, since that only left Polish and English. The Founder caught the joke and took it all in good humour, the formalities of the evening before quickly giving way to greater familiarity.

The Founder turned to the Królewiec wives.

"I need to spend some time with Stan now, if you would be so kind as to excuse us for an hour or two. Thank you for an excellent breakfast, sisters."

Stan and the Founder arose from the table and disappeared into his office while the rest of us and the two French Delacroix sisters cleared away the dishes and helped out in the kitchen.

"I wish I could be a fly on the wall in Stan's office," said Elisa. We all agreed even though we were sure Stan would give us a resumé later.

Stan and the Founder settled onto two of the sofas in the office.

"Brother Stan, this brings me to the threefold reason I have come here. Number one, to bring Estelle to see you. She does not know what I know, and I have not told her...or what I sense you already know. And I am not going to get involved. This is strictly your affair. There are already so many 'coincidences', I think you'll agree, enough witnesses for Estelle, you and the others. Go easy with Estelle, she is very deep indeed, but must be handled carefully as she has had a traumatic life. You'll find her very sweet if a little unpredictable." Gāngqin-jiā smiled a very broad smile and added: "You will soon be complete, Stan."

Stan nodded, getting his meaning.

"Secondly, I hope you have traced your 'leak' because it must be clearly understood by everyone that these endtime communities cannot safely function unless they learn to be discrete. Days of great persecution are coming to Europe. What I am going to share with you today cannot be shared with anyone who isn't 100 per cent trustworthy because once the Enemy learns what it is Father has given us, he will either want to destroy it or get it for his own use. May I leave the matter of the 'leak' up to you to fix?"

"Yes, sir," Stan replied. "The culprit has been identified and confronted. It won't happen again."

"Good. You are an intelligent man, Brother Stan, so I will leave it up to you to ensure who needs to know what and when. We must be as cunning as snakes and harmless as doves nowadays because the Enemy is most assuredly the former but not the latter (Matthew 10:16). This is never a popular business but as one who has lived through communism, along with your Romanian, Polish and Russian wives, I know you understand. The 'chatterboxes' must be taught self-control. Otherwise they won't be given access to what Father is bringing"

The two men smiled.

"The third item I need to talk to you about...and this is the most important item...concerns future travel and communication. For now only you and I can speak of this matter. Almost one else knows in our communities, including most of my wives. How familiar are you with my teachings on 'Azotus Travel', Stan?"

"I have read all your materials on the subject, sir, as have several of my wives. We have discussed them several times."

The Founder looked hard at Stan. "You need at least one or two confidants at home with whom you can talk about this matter openly and freely with the absolute assurance that they will always be responsible with this gift and not wag their tongues, who will strictly obey you and the rules Father demands be obeyed to the letter. This is a sacred trust He gives to His friends. These must by loyal wives in every way with who will travel with you on assignments. They can discuss these matters with each other provided they take measures to ensure they cannot be overheard. Do you have two such wives?"

"Yes, sir, I believe I do," replied Stan.

"Go and fetch them."

Stan got up and left.

"Be sure to bring both of them," he called out.

Five minutes later Stan returned with me and Sarah-Jane. The Founder nodded approvingly as if the choice had come as no surprise to him. "Good, it is as the Spirit whispered to me."

Sarah-Jane and I looked at each other wondering what on earth was going on. We sat down on either side of of our husband, facing our Guest.

"My dears," said the Founder looking at us very seriously, "your husband and I have been talking about a very sacred responsibility that requires that both he and I have the utmost confidence in your loyalty and self-discipline. However, this does have to be a matter of your own free will. If you want to refuse, you may, but most not speak of the matter further with anyone else. Your other sister-wives may be brought in later. But first you have to be tested. Our Heavenly Father wants you two and Stan to shoulder a burden that few can bear, especially in such a tight-knit family like your own. I assume, of course, that your experience with our Saviour is still fresh in your memories?"

"Oh yes, sir," we replied in unison.

"You have already understood, if I have judged our husband rightly, that however wonderful and exciting an experience that was, you can share it with no-one beyond those who were actual witnesses?"

We nodded. "Yes, we understand," replied Sarah-Jane for me as my teacher-head.

"And do you understand the saying of our Master that "unto whom much is given, much will be requiredd" and "to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more (Luke 12:48)?

"Yes, sir," we replied again, by now getting a little anxious, wondering what on earth this could be about.

"Your husband has entered a solemn covenant with me to speak of the matters I am about to share with him to no one beyond his two assistants, which is you two for now. Others, if they prove worthy, may be called later. You must covenant with him now that you will be faithful custodians and not share, or even so much as hint at to anyone else - including your nearest and dearest - a single word of what is about to transpire unless Stan authorises you to?

Now we were getting very frightened. "Yes, sir."

"This will require much self-control, sisters. To enjoy the confidence of Heaven is no small matter. There are only a few people who have ever experienced what you are about to. It is a great privilege granted to few. This is not something you haven't already seen (because you already have, though probably aren't aware of it), but to actually participate in, this you have not. Only three people in the Bible are known to have done this - Enoch, Elijah and the evangelist Philip. To them was given the privilege to step into an inter-dimensional portal and be transported instantly elsewhere, either on earth or in the heavenlies. Two of these two men named in Scripture did so, never to return to earth - we call this translation' - and the third was instantly transported from one location on the earth to another not that far distant. This was call 'transmaterialisation'"

Sarah-Jane and I gasped, exchanging glances. Our minds began to race in all directions.

"You said we had already seen this, sir?" I asked, astonished.

"Yes, my dears. You saw the Saviour only very recently step out of His resurrection dimension into yours, and then return back into it, dispapearing before your eyes."

"Wow!" I said.

"This is also how He appeared to the disciples in the upper room (John 20:19-23), though as far as we know (because the text doesn't mention it) without the blaze of light you saw. He was just suddenly 'there' to their great astonishment. Many Christians assume that he walked through a solid door, a commonly made mistake, that owes more to occult myth. Others who deny the physical resurrection say He appeared as a spirit and then temporarily materialised. But that is a false doctrine taiught by the Jehovah's Witnesses."

The Founder paused, making sure we were tracking with him.

"This is how Yah'shua and all malakim or angels move from their resurrection dimension or world to our 'mortal' one. It's how He left - the ascension - and it's how He will return in the Second Coming as well."

"I don't understand," asked Sarah-Jane puzzled. "Didn't He go up in the air? And didn't the angel say He would return the same way?"

The Founder smiled. "That is correct. But like your own recent experience with the Saviour, this was in the air too, was it not?"

"Right," answered Sarah-Jane.

"Only the ascension and return will be higher up in the sky. The text says He disappeared in a cloud. We're not told whether this cloud was a few meters up or several kilometers up. The cloud may very well have been an artifically created barrier to prevent the people present in that non-technical age understanding the mechanism we are talking about today. The same idea is reiterated in Daniel 7:13 where you will remember the Son of Man is prophesied to retirn "with the clouds of heaven". The Hebrew or Aramaic word for heaven can equally be applied to the heavenly dimension or to the earth's atmosphere or sky. I'm sure your husband has taught you these things already, knowing Stan?"

"Yes, sir, he has," I replied.

"Good. The expression "coming with the clouds" in Acts 1:11 almost certainly refers to a heavenly or inter-dimensional phenomenon. Yahweh Himself, you'll remember, appeared in a 'cloud' on Mount Sinai (Exodus 19:16-20) - this being the pre-incarnate Christ. You can test all this for yourself, sisters, when you experience it, because once you start moving inter-dimensionally, you will begin to 'understand' it. Time is a little different there - it doesn't disappear altogether, as some miustakenly teach, it's just more compressed, so your journeying will appear to be instantaneous."

"Remember, a thousand years to us is like a day to God (2 Peter 3:8)," added Stan.

"Correct," added the Founder, who continued. "Heavenly messengers enter our space-time dimension only at the direction, and with the permission, of The Creator Yahweh Himself (Matthew 28:18). They are not allowed to make independent decisions about such matters because of strict rules regarding non-interference in the world's affairs save where the Father has specifically integrated His will into the overall design of history...which He did before Creation. This is why you must strictly stick to the terms of your assignment. If you do not, you will be returned and banned from further travel. You travel as messengers or instruments of Yahweh, just like the angels (the word angel means messenger, whether human or divine, as you must know) - you are not on private jaunts to visit wherever it takes your fancy. Only the most trustworthy of servants are allowed freedom of action but then only within a fixed time and space, all foreknown by the Father from the beginning. I hope that's abundantly clear. We follow His Plan, not our own."

We nodded.

"Christ, in whom all authority currently resides (Matthew 28:18), is able to open and close this portal at will in order to perform specific tasks assigned to Him by the Father in our world. Enoch and Elijah were ordered to leave this sphere still with their mortal physical bodies intact - Enoch because he was too pure to remain on the earth any longer, and Elijah because his prophetic assignment was complete and a transfer of power and authority had to be made to his successor, Elijah. Elijah's departure was a very dramatic one indeed, one that had to be witnessed and recorded in Scripture to build men's confidence and hope in the Creator concerning the world beyond. Heavenly Father alone knows best why such witnesses are needed. When Elijah and Enoch return with our Master at His Second Coming, they will be transformed instsantly - "in the twinkling of an eye" (1 Corinthians 15:52) - like those who are alive on the earth when He comes back, and be resurrected. I am sure Stan has already taught you all of these things already because I know how thorough he is." The Founder smiled.

"Yes, sir, he has," we replied.

"Good. I thought as much. I want you sisters to know that I have every confidence in him as I know he does in you. That's why you're here now."

I squeezed Sarah-Janes had, and Stan placed our locked hands between his two. We knew what he wanted of us. Sarah-Jane acted as my spokeswomen. "We promise, our master, to be true and faithful to this commission we are being given," and kissed him and each other. I said "Amen" along with the men's. Now the Founder looked exceedingly pleased.

"We don't know why Philip was transported instantly to Azotus. He might have been in danger, what needed doing in Azotus might have been time-critical, we just know it happened," resumed the Founder. "Your family, Stan, will have many assignment like this in the future when movement by Christians will be highly restricted, just as they were in Soviet times."

Stan remembered, grim-faced.

"Not only that, but in the future I and other patriarchs may need to make visits to the various endtime communities like this one without being monitored by the Adversary. To this end, there are some very strict rules that must be adhered to. Please pay close attention.

"#1. You cannot bring any tracable electronic communication devices like iPhones, iPads, laptops or the like with you. Ever.

"#2. When traveling outside your firstborn colonies, you may not take any camera devices with you. You are not allowed to take photographs of places you are sent to, or people there, et cetera. No record must be kept. I hope this is common sense. You may not take any sort of identification with you - passports, ID cards, documents with any names and addresses on them, should you fall into the hands of the authorities...which won't happen if you are obedient and stick to your instructions. In fact, you must travel empty-handed unless you have been instructed by Yahweh to bring something specific."

"In other words, we must travel like spies!" I remarked.

"Precisely." The Founder resumed. "You may travel freely between colonies with regular items that are needed for transportation there (like food, for instance, to meet an emergency) but that is all. You may take it as a default rule that you should bring nothing with you save the clothes you wear, which should be unmarked with your names or identifying tags. If visiting outside one of the twelve endtime communities, you must leave nothing tangible behind.

"Finally, #3, you may not speak to anyone about these things, not even your own children and sister-wives, who have not entered this covenant or who have not been given permission to travel also. All of this should, I hope, be common sense, but I underscore it because people get careless, as one of your sister-wives did talking about your Anointing with a visitor here."

Poor Kasia. Yet she should have known better.

"How many others travel this way?" I asked.

"To date, just me...from our own firstborn fellowship," said the Founder, "though I know of one or two people whom the Lord has sent through these portals from other churches in the recent past. But they number no more than the fingers of one hand. One was Kenyan, the others American, I believe.

"And a word of warning: SATAN DOES HAVE THE POWER TO MOVE BETWEEN DIMENSIONS TOO AND SOMETIMES MOVES HIS FOLLOWERS THIS WAY. I suspect we will see more of this activity in days to come which is why you must be prepared. So the less he knows about our activities, the better. Another reason for taking strict precautions. Because once he gets wind of Azotus Travel happening, he will go out of his way to sabotage it."

I grew alarmed. Sarah-Jane too.

"Has that happened to you, sir??" asked Sarah-Jane, by now trembling and very frightened.

"Yes, once. At the height of my 'training', you might say, when a devii-worshiping coven was waging war against my family. I had heard of such a thing before and half expected it, but you are never prepared for it totally. We walk by faith. That is why you must walk close to the Master at all times - not in terror but in reverential confidence. He will protect you, but you must know how to hear His Voice because in such moments of danger you must act instantaneously."

I began having doubts as to whether I was ready or worthy enough for this kind of responsibility.

"Can you share what happened to you, sir, when these evil people transported in this way??"

"Yes, my dear. Don't look so alarmed. You're going to see a lot of this kind of thing in the years to come, but know that so long as you are in Christ, and are obedient to Him and your husband in everything - and to your teacher-wife if you have one - you'll be fine."

He smiled reassuringly at me.

"Did any of your wives back you up at this moment?" I asked.

"No. I was alone. They didn't know. Three satanists appeared in the house late one night, very suddenly, out of nowhere. Father awakend me and showed what had happened in vision moments before their arrival. I quite simply rebuked them in the Name of Jesus Christ, severed their cords, and they collapsed dead in front of me, their bodies returning back to their point of departure. That coven never bothered me again."

"Wow!" said Sarah-Jane. "I never knew such things happened."

"They do, but they are rare. It costs the Enemy's disciples a lot of stolen power to move around this way, acquired through evil ritualistic human sacrifices. As believers, we have no such restrictions. Barring Heavenly Father's will, we don't have to do anything but trust and obey. Your husband, Stan, has had a couple of such experiences already, as have I, and one other sister we know of from another church who was herself an ex-satanist. And doubtless there are others whom we know nothing about too, as Father intends for our own protection."

I looked at Stan, alarmed again.

"Yes, darling, but I have not told anyone in this family so as not to frighten you because you were none of you prepared back then. We were attacked in Raj a couple of times by satanists who meant to murder us. In both instances Father literally burned them up to a cinder leaving behind a small, neat circular pile of ashes where they had earlier stood. If you ever encounter such a mound, you'll know what it is, and that Father has been active protecting one of His elect. It all happened with a bright burst of energy, in a sudden flash. I was told to leave the piles alone (they were outside the house on our driveway) because the enemy would come looking for their comrades when they didn't return, find the mounds of ash, and know they had been spontaneously combusted by the power of God. After the second attempt they did not try again because, I suspect, they by then realised that a Power greater than their own existed that could not be matched, because that's the way they think. They're taught that Yahweh is a weak god, that Satan is more powerful"

I was horrifed. And to think Stan had been silent about this all these years, fighting these battles alone! Sarah-Jane, who had known him longer, of course, was even more amazed and humbled. She leaned into San's shoulder and cried, as though reliving those awful moments and sensing her husband might have been killed. Stan put his arm around her and comforted her, kissing the top of her head.

"A whole new world is about to open up to you," the Founder continued. "On my end I only have my wife Maryam who understands these things and has travelled with me once, and very recently. You know her, of course, Sarah-Jane, as you and Kasia met her in Wittenberg."

Sarah-Jane wiped her eyes and nodded. "Yes, she's ever so sweet and wise, Hélène, you'll love her when you meet her!"

"Yes," said the Founder, glancing at his watch, "you're going to meet her in about 15 minutes' times."

"She's coming here?!" exclaimed Sarah-Jane excitedly.

The Founder laughed. "No, you three are going to meet her in our home...just for a couple of minutes, mind you...so that you can feel more at ease about these things. In time we will be visiting each other a great deal, but not before my family and yours are fully prepared. All of yours, except one, have had the Saviour visit you - we have not had such a visit ourselves yet, a reason I am here today."

I was astonished. "Not even Astara?"

"No, she's still young and immature. The very mention of Azotus travel terrifies her, a reason why you are not to assume she knows what you do now, because she doesn't. She knows about Azotus Travel, as do all my wives, but only Maryam and I have actually travelled, which none of my other wives know about...yet. It must be that way with yours too, for now, at least until your last wife is home, Stan. You'll find her very humbled, pliant and teachable when returns. Don't worry, things will be very different with her this time."

Stan was gratefully reassured. I was still surprised Astara was not "in the know" as I assumed that was why she was brought to Wittenberg.

"Astara has great potential," said the Founder, reading our minds, "don't under-estimate her, but she is still young and very vulnerable. Under no circumstances are you to talk to her about satanists, Azotus travel, or anything like that, until I inform you she is ready. She is too fragile. That goes for my other wives too. I must insist on that, or great damage will be done. Her time will shortly come but not now."

We understood.

"How are we going to build a portal in 10 minutes?" asked Sarah-Jane concerned. "You did say we were going to visit your wife in a quarter of an hour??"

The Founder roared with laughter.

"You have been watching too much science fiction, Sister Sarah-Jane," he said, wiping away the tears away. We had never seen him laugh loudly before.

"I fear she has been watching Science Fiction movies with the boys," remarked Stan, who was also laughing now.

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" said Sarah-Jane indignantly.

"You must think spiritually, not according to the flesh," replied the Founder, slightly disappointed by her outburst. "No, the portal is not a 'stargate' structure, get that right out of your head. That's shere fantasy. Did the Saviour appear to you through a stone circle in your living room?"

Now Sarah-Jane was embarrassed, and apologised for her outburst, afraid at the back of her mind she might now not be allowed to go on the trip.

"We're running out of time. Please remove any items from your persons that might identify you as you," the Founder said firmly, "and leave them behind on the sofa. Follow behind your husband. Do as he does."

My heart began to pound furiously. Sarah-Jane looked nervous and was already kicking herself for her childish behaviour. The Founder prayed:

"Father, into Your hands I yield Stan and his two wives, and ask you to guard their going out and coming in (Psalm 121:8), in Yah'shua's Name. Amen."

We said "Amen" in our turn and then the Light suddenly appeared, just as it had done when Emma and Shelly had been here, only this time it wasn't hovering above the ground but was connected to it. And it wasn't a sphere either, but a vertical rectangle, like a giant portrait or a door, though the edges were not clearly defined. It shone so brightly I wanted to cover my eyes. The Founder nodded to Stan and he stepped slowly forward into the Light, with Sarah-Jane and I nervously holding onto the edge of his jacket because we felt afraid.

"In a flash we found ourselves in a large garden full of bushes and flowers everywhere. The air was moist and warm, hitting us like a sudden gust of wind. So were were still on earth and not in some heavenly sphere! Standing majestically in front of us by a bed of pink and white peonies, was a slim African woman wearing a long sensual white cotton dress made of thin strips of material tightly sewn together, and with a bodice and sleaves, known (I would later learn) as an habesha kemis. Bright yarns were woven into the fabric. Around the neck, wrist, bottom, middle and top of the dress were various embroideries. Around her waist was a light shawl or scarf matching the fabric of the dress. She was bare-footed.

"Stan, Sarah-Jane!" Welcome to our home!" she ctried out with such joie de vivre that I was stunned for a moment.

It must have been Maryam. "What a beautiful woman!" I thought to myself - the perfect symmetry of her face, subtle jawline, prominent cheekbones like Sonja's, and well-proportioned slender nose striking me at once. And though I knew she was half English, it was the Eritrean part of her that stood out. Such large eyes and a warm skin tone that almost glowed! There were no cosmetics on her face, as was the Holy Order's practice, not that she needed any. "This must be what Moses' first wife Tharbis looked like!" And even though she was in her 40's, I would estimate, she looked Astara's age. She had to be Astara's twin! What a gorgeous blend of the Afro-Semitic and Anglo-Saxon!

Sarah-Jane hugged her closely and introduced me.

"Welcome, Hélène, welcome! SbuQ liela - that's 'pleased to meet you'", she said, "in my Tigrinya language", and she hugged me too.

"Stan, welcome - wonderful you have stayed well. Wie geht es dir? Schön, dich wiederzusehen!" she added in flawless German. I'd forgotten Stan had told me the Founder had met her in Dresden where her Eritrean father and English mother lived. "We don't have very long, I'm afraid, as I would so much like to get to know you better, Hélène. But Gāngqin-jiā has promised me we will be visiting you again, but this time through Sarah-Jane's 'stargate'", she said, chuckling in that delightful African way. How did she know, though??

"Were you eavesdropping on us in Sweden??" cried Sarah-Jane.

"Ay! Ay!" Maryam laughed again, her whole body shaking this time. "People are gossips, the Creator is the judge!" and she laughed again. But she wouldn't explain how she knew. Yet she did.

"Where are we?" I asked, determined to find out where the Founder lived.

"You're in Ireland," replied Maryam, "but more I cannot tell you for our own safety, and nor must you tell anyone else this. OK?"

We promised. So that's what I detected in the Founder's accent! And she called the Founder by his Chinese name, like Astara!

"It is time for you to leave, I'm afraid."

"So soon!" I cried out inside myself, and then remembered what the Founder had said...only two minutes.

We looked behind us and there was the portal back again. We hugged and kissed and then followed Stan back into the light and in an instant we were instantaneously in Stan's office, where the Founder was still waiting for us. He smiled.

"I see you have brought something back with you, Hélène," he said to me.

I looked at where he was staring and there, inbetween two bottons of the fold of my blouse, was a white peony!! Maryam must have slipped it in when we hugged! So it was a real, physical encounter! Maryam had ensured I couldn't explain what had happened as a mere vision or a dream. I lifted the peony up to my face and smelled its sweetness. I did not know then but this was also a prophetic sign of Estelle, my quin-to-be, a woman Maryam knew well. Étoile.

"Your wife Maryam is lovely," I said to him.

"Thank you, my dear. I must agree with you. She is my African jewel." And without further ado, the Founder rose to his feet and began to leave, but paused a moment to speak a further word.

"Top of the morning to you!" he said to us in a perfect Dublin accent, tipping an imaginary cap with his right index finger, and winked mischievously. "Oh, by the way, Hélène, you probably didn't know but we don't actually say 'top of the morning to you' where I come from. That's something your people in Hollywood invented".

He was grinning broadly now and I thought to myself, "Stan and the Founder have a similar sense of humour. They're going to get on so well!"

"Sir?" I asked. "One last question. How did you know...?" He smiled but answered a different question I hadn't asked.

"Dia dhuit!', which means 'God be with you' in Gaelic", he said, and continued walking out the door while the rest of us followed him back to the others, equally mystified.

"What do I say about this flower??" I asked Sarah-Jane, knowing someone would ask me where it came from. And sure enough, Salme did.

"The Founder's wife Maryam sent it," answered Sarah-Jane truthfully, and then I realised how compromising it could be doing Azotus Travel unless one was very careful indeed and obeyed the rules. I was being taught an invaluable lesson. Salme thought nothing more of it, assuming it was a gesture, to compensate me because I hadn't been privileged to go to Wittenberg like Sarah-Jane.

The Founder remained several days, and together with Astara and Estelle, was given a tour of the entire estate to meet all the community members. Estelle stayed close to Stan the whole time, still saying very little, but never taking her eyes off him if she could help it. Astara, on the other hand, wandered around freely, observing us and asking questions non-stop both out of her own natural curiosity and hunger for truth but also to fulfil her husband's request that she learn all she could before returning to Ireland.

I did not realise until much later that of his eight wives, Maryam and Astara were the only ones living plural marriage in its fullness the way we were, the echad way, or that their family's journey had been very different from our own, inevitably, because they were different personalities with different backrounds and had arrived late 'on the polygamy scene' at a different, earlier, and less experienced time. For the same reason, his House Rules were very different from ours too. Only Maryam and Astara shared a detached bungalow together on the Founder's property the way Sarah-Jane and I had, so I was right about them being twins. They were the only ones, as I have said, who of his wives would 'travel' the 'new way' too. For now, only Maryam had.

Astara was fascinated by Sarah-Jane and myself especially and was around us and our two children, Tom and Shallum, the most, and sometimes even babysat them in the new nursery with others so we could do other things. Not yet a mother herself, she wanted to know everything about babies she could. Maryam was already past the menopause when she met the Founder sadly and could have none of her own. The Founder's other wives (Maryam was apparently the seventh, and Astara the eighth) were all by now in their 50's and 60's, their children were all grown up and had left home and were serving in various local leadership positions in Dublin, Belfast, Edinburgh, Liverpool and London, so Astara knew next to nothing about the raising of children in a plural household. For that reason, we became an important extension of her family.

Éala, the Founder's sixth wife who was nearly his own age, had been extremely ill for many years, and required a lot of palliative care. Judging from the name, I assumed she was Irish...unless it was a name the Founder had personally given her as was a common practice among us. At any rate, Astara let slip that she was from Kildare in the Irish Republic. The other sister-wives, about whom we knew nothing at that stage, mostly took care of her on a rotational basis when they were home.

Through very gentle probing I discovered that all of the Founder's other wives, minus Éala whom as I said was housebound, were involved exclusively with the local Covenant Fellowships in Ireland and Britain, where plural marriage did not feature except in very general terms in congregational teaching. Plural marriage was an official doctrine of the fellowships but was not practiced in public by them unless it was legal in their home countries. Thus in Uganda and Kenya, polygamous families freely mingled with monogamous ones locally. So to all intents and purpose, they were living polygamy the 'conventional' way, albeit together it under the same roof.

Their world was, accordingly, very different from our own. They did much of the Founder's travelling for him while they could though for how much longer they would be able to manage that was now being voiced in their family. Indeed, the Founder and his wives didn't live in a colony like Kadesh-Naphtali at all, but had a small estate in the Irish countryside where they kept very much to themselves, much as we had done in Poland. Only Maryam and Astara, being the youngest and most recent, were attempting anything like what we were, and together with Éala, were home-alone, with Estelle helping out on her twice-annual visits while she was single. So Astara being with us on this occasion was a huge adventure for her - hence her unbounded excitement!

The Founder's mission was, quite simply, different to Stan's, and so his marriages were structured somewhat differently too. They had to be. Though he was apparently supervising the construction of Kadesh-Ephraim (where we still did not know), he was not living there, nor planned to. Indeed, he was hunting for a successor so that he could retire and operate with the firstborn communities by means of Azotus Travel alone. The visit he made to us by air and hired car was his very last by such means. So Maryam and Astara were later to become frequent visitors to Sweden, often staying with us for extended periods of time for the kind of fellowship that was not available to them anywhere else, and were occasionally joined by the Founder. Their own personal apartment was given them by Stan in the East Wing of Kadesh-Naphtali where they were currently staying, that became a second home to them in the years to come, giving us an added rôle as a centre for the training of the first African leaders and their families led by Maryam and Estelle.

Mid way into their visit, the Founder asked to see Stan to discuss something that was weighing heavily on his soul.

"Brother Stan, I am getting old now and must start making arrangements for the future. As you know, Kadesh-Ephraim, the gathering place of the head of the Twelve Tribes, is under construction, and will become the main hub of all the other communities. There's a lot to be done still and it's taking time because it has to be done in a remote place and in a way so as not to draw attention. If I live long enough, I plan to move there with my family. When I do, Stan, I shall need a successor to take over my work. I have known for a while now that you are the man who is to take my place. This is not a small matter, as I am sure you will realise, and will be a heavy responsibility should you accept the calling."

Stan was stunned not knowing what to answer.

"I don't expect an answer from you any time soon. You will need to prayerfully talk to your wives about this in due course. I hate to raise this matter so soon after your relocation from Poland which has been a huge change for you as it is. You'll remain here in Kadesh-Naphtali for a good number of years yet. At some point I will take you to Kadesh-Ephraim to meet the people there. Though nobody knows the day - even our Saviour does not know - a day will come, whether in your lifetime or that of your children, when these places will become literal Cities of Refuge against the days of great tribulation. This you already know.

"Once that seven year period is completed, the whole of twelve-tribed Messianic Israel will begin their journey back to the Promised Land so that everyone will be in place to meet the Holy City when it arrives. On that glorious day, Stan, much of our physical labour will be over, and we won't have to build places like Kadesh-Naphtali any more. By then, what we euphemistically call 'Azotus Travel', will be a way of life because we will be resurrected beings. The Holy City will be ready build for our families - those who remain true - and for the multitude of Father's faithful servants from all the eons past. In the meantime, I have a special request to make of you, Stan, if you will grant it me."

"Yes, sir, of course!" our husband replied.

"I want to ask you to be the custodian of my wives who survive me when I die. Will you do that, brother?"

Stan did not hesitate. "It will be an honour, sir."

"Thank you. That is a great weight off my mind. We must all take care of one another's families when patriarchs pass away. Mercifully this age of dying and death will soon be over, but in the meantime, our kith and kin lie heavily on our hearts in this world of increasng evil and anarchy. I know you understand this well. None of us know how long we will live but once we start turning 50 or so, such matters start to occupy our thoughts more and more. I am praying that I will live long for my wives' sake because as you know only two of my eight are living the way that I would have wished. There are sacrifices to be made and losses to be shouldered when you are a pioneer of sacred things in a word that can never understand you nor want to, made worse by the fact that most believers do not understand, nor want to, either, because they are sold on the traditions of men. This is a great sadness. Nearly all your wives are on the same page as you are now, Stan, which is an enormous blessing. I know you're worried about Isabel, but please don't be. She is to return a very diffrerent woman to the one who ran away. Please know that all your wives will follow you in the end."

Stan began to weep and for the first time felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders with this assurance for he had worried so much about all of us. The Founder lay his hand on Stan's shoulder.

"Son," he said, "please look upon me as your father, and call me that, if you wish. You have been alone too long carrying a great deal. Know that I am here for you from now on, for as long as Yahweh allows me to live."

"Thank you, father," he replied, tears still streaming down his face, "you have no idea what this means to me." The two men embraced and from that day Stan was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a renewed man. We all felt it after he and the Founder emerged from the office afterwards, and he announded that the Founder was now officially a part of our family, and we, his. The children would finally have a spiritual grandfather!!

"What of your other wives," asked Stan, "who are not after our Order?"

A sadness crept over the Founder's face. "I don't know son, I live in hope, only Yahweh knows. They have been through a lot, oh so many struggles, trying to live this way. (They have sons who will look after them when I have gone). For reasons only they can give, they have been afraid to risk everything, no doubt partly my fault but also partly theirs, for we made many mistakes in the beginning. It's not uncommon in the first generation who have few mentors or rôle-models, if any. I had no one to tutor me, and frankly those who were living this way of life in those days were a mixed bag. Some were scoundrels and others just fumbling in the dark too.

You will encounter many like them in the days to come and you must under no circumstances admit them to firstborn communities like this one. If you do, the communities will be destroyed, for these men and their families are as unstable as water. I know of many who have tried to start communities that have been disasters. In short, they became cults that soon fell apart. Satan will try to weasle lesser men into the colonies - they must be weeded out before they even set foot in them. And that goes for any wives who may themselves be unstable and uncommitted. That is why my family lives as it does. But now those who are committed can come here, and I am grateful for that,

"The good news, Stan is that you will meet many patriarchs like yourself in the years to come like those whom you already have here - godly men with godly wives like my Maryam and your wives. However, no one enters this way of life fully prepared as you know from your own struggles. That goes for the men as well as the women. The important thing is that you make Yahweh's choices for you - He will shape them in His own time and way. These men and women will need patient ministry. Nobody can be forced, as you well know, into this way of life, and not a few men have made - and will continue to make - rash choices, not seeking our Father's will, but instead pursuing the lusts of their own flesh. There is always hope, son, and even if not in this life, then in the next. Yahweh will make everything right in the end. It is therefore very important that you carefully instruct the brethren not to rush into plural marriage, but to choose the women for them that Yahweh chooses. They must be masters of their own flesh. I'll say no more about this now, as we have other more important matters to attend to."

"One last question if I may, father," asked Stan.

"Yes, son, what did you want to ask?"

"If I am to assume eventual leadership of these communities and move to Kadesh-Ephraim, who will be my successor here in Kadesh-Naphtali?"

The Founder smiled. "You already know, Stan. It will be confirmed to you nearer the time. And he may not always be here. Grant him the freedom to follow Yahweh. Some training can only be done elsewhere. In the meantime, train him up diligently. He has three lovely wives chosen by Heaven. All will go well with him even if will be tried."

He at once knew for sure that Björn was the man!

"Oh, and one further question, sir, if I may?" said Stan, slightly embarrassed.

The Founder laughed, and nodded.

"It has to do with Azotus Travel. A technical question, really, as I have been uncertain about a matter. When the Holy City returns to the earth, you say that it will not actually rest on the surface of the earth until the end of the Millennium, but be suspended, as it were, in the air above the earthly Jerusalem. How, then, will the inhabitants move around on the earth? Will they 'Azotus-travel' then as well?

"Yes, son. Exactly. It is the only way the resurrected travel on the earth (or indeed anywhere else) during the Millennium."

"And their children, born to them during he Millennium?"

"Those unresurrected mortals of our Order, like us, will move around using both conventional means and Azotus Travel, as the Father wills, but not those who are outside it. They will travel around just as we do now, under their own power or by means of vehicles that are then in use. More than that I do not know," said the Founder.

Stan nodded. "Thank you, father. That's all I wanted to know."

The Founder changed the subject: "Have you told Estelle her new name yet?" he asked.

"How did you know that I have my own name for her??" he asked, once again astonished like the rest of us just how prophetic the Founder actually was. "No, sir, I haven't."

"Well, don't you think you'd better, son? She's waiting for you to. She already knows what you're going to call her because Yahweh has told her. It's the sign she's been wanting so that she can know that you're her husband. She's already three-quarters of the way to becoming yours." The Founder grinned and added, "She hasn't told me what the name is, in case you're curious. And don't tell me now what that name is either because I don't want to know. She knows, of that I am absolutely sure, and that's all any of us needs to know right now."

Knowing how much she loved gardens, apparently like the Founder's wife Maryam, Stan took Estelle outside into the herrgård's extensive but uncultivated garden on the last day before the guests' departure. She was walking at his side, holding his arm as they casually moved through the somewhat neglected bushes and beds at the rear of the building. It was then Stan suddenly felt the Spirit nudge him into action.

"This place needs an enthusiastic and experienced gardener like yourself, Étoile," he said to her, "to get it into proper shape."

Estelle stopped in her tracks, and looked up intently at Stan. A trace of a smile appeared on her lips and he could tell from her eyes that she now knew, but neither said anything. They didn't need to. Estelle was not impulsive like Astara but liked to take her time and consider all the possibilities nbefore making important decisions. She was thorough like him. She would take what she now knew back with her to Ireland and thence back to Château Salins, and on one final three-month tour of duty in Senegal before tendering her resignation from the Missionary Society that she worked for in Saint-Louis. She had known all along Stan was her man but wanted absolutely confirmation, like Gideon of old, as she didn't always trust herself ti hear Father rightly.

Not until Stan appeared out of nowhere at a pre-arranged meeting spot in a town called Pont-à-Mousson half way between Metz and Nancy some months later to propose marriage to her did she finally have enough signs to convince her that she was, in fact, not only his fiuture wife but that she was already married to him, from long, long ago before the foundation of the world, something she wasn't at first sure about, because she had never heard of such a thing before. Then she knew for sure that Father wanted the union in spite of her advancing years. But first, other things had to happen with all of us.

Estelle - Étoile - was the last to get into the car on the morning of their departure. Out of view of the rest of us standing on the portico, on the far side of the car, Stan and his future 15th stood facing each other. As before when she had first arrived and Stan had dropped her off at her bedroom door, Stan took her right hand and kissed it, but this time, much emboldened, Étoile reached up before he could stand up erect again, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissed him tenderly and chastely on the lips.

"Mon chéri, Stanisław, pourrais-tu venir me rendre visite à mon retour d'Afrique? Reste en contact, je t'en prie! Je t'adore!" And she kissed him again on the mouth before opening the back door and climbing in next the Founder again. Stan and the rest of the family watched as the car drove off along the drive and headed towards Stockholm Airport to catch a flight to Dublin, his heart filled with sadness mingled with joy - sadness, because he loathed separation, and joy not only because he was now sure he and his family would be soon be complete but because he now had a father of his very own.

That autumn a new family joined our community, this time from England - William, Philippa, and Carmen Beckinsale - who wished to begin a similar community in Britain and wanted to learn from us. Only recently married and still childless, they were fresh to Christian polygamy and keen to get involved in communal life. With only six months between the marriages, it was a young, fresh, and vigorous relationship and very much in the formative stages. With no possibility of fellowship and tutoring in England, they had provisionally agreed to spend four years in Kadesh-Naphtali.

In common with the other residents, they signed contracts deeding their property to the community and took possession of the old farm house, beginning the extensive renovation that was needed. These contracts stipulate that upon leaving the community they would receive the equivalent in value of whatever they had put in, any increase being regarded as the property of the whole community. This meant that we had to maintain a fund equivalent to what any newcomers had put in so that they could claim that fund upon leaving - a fund which we used to generate interest and so finance various projects.

Also written into the contract with all the families was that they could leave whenever they wanted and would likewise be entitled to take with them the equivalent of what they had invested when they had arrived. But it was understood that all physical items, apart from certain memorabilia and essential things (photo albums, family heirlooms, personal computer equipment, etc.) would remain on the property after they had left, though we were flexible about such matters. The property and land deeded to the residents always belonged to the community and could never be sold by anyone wanting to leave prematurely. Such is the "United Order" way of life that we follow.

The Beckinsales were to be the first of several temporary residents. Another floor wwas being added to the Conference Centre and apartments made for such people. One wing was already complete in which we were aleady living, and the other would soon follow as finances permitted though a few rooms were already ready that were being used for guests. Part of the Beckinsale's duty would be to manage the Conference Centre and take care of the guest rooms for the many short-stay visitors, though some of these would be housed in the unfinished wing of the herrgård as well as in the homes of other families in the community.

It was the first really autumnal day of the season and Isabel felt the chill as she pushed off her bed clothes. She looked outside the window and saw the leaves turning yellow on the sycamore maple tree. The ferns had already turned brown and the first cool winds from the Sudeten Mountains were beginning to make themselves felt.

This was the day she had been planning for several weeks. Her parents were away in Częstochowa, making a pilgrimage to the Black Madonna in the hope that her father's prostate cancer might be healed. They wouldn't be back for two days.

Stanisław, Jr. knew nothing of what was going on though he had noticed his mother was much more concentrated than usual, and wondered why she kept on taking a suitcase out from under her bed. She was packed and ready to leave for Sweden.

Many factors had contributed to her decision. Everything about her situation just shouted God's disapproval. No friends, a fast disintegrating relationship with little Benoni, a thoroughly miserable Stanisław, Jr. who loathed the forced Catholic Church services on Sunday - and who was, as a result, beginning even to wonder who God was - her deterioriating health, unfulfilling job, poverty, ever increasing dependence on her parents, and sense of utter desperation, all drove her to want to return back to her husband and family more than anything else in the world. And although not that many months had passed, it had seemed like years.

When she broke the news to Stanisław, Jr., the little boy's face lit up.

"Are we going back to Pappa?" he asked eagerly. "And Władysław?"

"Yes, we're going home now."

He rushed into his room and started gathering his things together. In an instant all the heaviness evaporated and he felt like a little bird in spring ready to sing.

"We can't take everything with us, Stanisław," she said. "We have to travel light."

For a moment his heart sank. Gifts had been deliberately pressed upon him by his grandparents in such abundance since they had come to Poland, things he knew he would probably never get in Sweden. They had spared no expense, hoping to win his heart away from his father and the rest of the family. And whilst he was certainly fond of all that he now owned, what he really longed for was home. Though only ten years old he was wise enough to know where his priorities lay.

"I understand, mother," he said, looking up with an assuring look in his eyes, and returned to put the toys away for the last time.

"You can bring just a few things," said Isabel, "but only what you can carry in your knapsack. So think carefully. You've only got 10 minutes because we've got a bus to catch in 15."

He shot out of the room like a dart, making the impossible decision of rejecting things he knew he really wanted. The encyclopedias were out, and the large model ship. Stanisław, Jr. was a collector like his father and even in so short a time had already gathered quite a little museum full of artefacts. He looked sadly at his collection of Word War 2 memorabilia which he had found on the beach at Kołobrzeg (Kolberg) in Pomerania neatly arranged in a glass case on the wall above his bed. He took one bullet case to remember it by. His mother called again - it was time to leave - he grabbed his white-and-red Polish flag and stuffed it into the last remaining square inches of his bag.

Isabel bundled Benoni into the pram and strapped the suitcase behind it so that it began to topple. She realised that she had too much herself but it was too late to start repacking.

"Three minutes," she cried, and after a brief scurrying, Stanisław, Jr. eventually appeared out of his room with a bag full of toys.

"What about my clothes?" he asked plaintively, remembering the national dress his grandfather had bought him.

"I've packed all you need. Come on, we've got to go."

The door closed behind them. There was no time to look back for a last glance, except Stanisław, who remembered a few of the good things he was leaving behind. But now his heart was on Kadesh-Naphtali.

"Come on," said Isabel, breaking out into a run. "There's the bus! Hurry!"

A panting Isabel fell into the seat, with a smile on her face to the bemusement of the onlookers.

"We made it, didn't we?" she said, still puffing, with the first smile she had managed all morning.

And Stanisław smiled back at her.

"Where are we going now, mother?" he asked.

"Wrocław (Breslau)."

Wrocław. A stop on the route of Stan's escape from the Polish Maffia, or fascist Catholics like the Obóz Narodowo-Radykalny (ONR), or who ever it was who had tried to kill him after they had left Raj. History was repeating itself, in a way. Not knowing the best route to go, since she felt little of the leading of the Spirit, Isabel had decided simply to follow Stan's earlier route and trust that somehow it was still inspired for her there and then. No one had seen her leave the house but some neighbours had recognised her on the bus and had asked her where she was going.

"A long earned rest," she had managed to get out, though she hadn't really wanted to say anything at all. She figured that her parents would quickly put two-and-two together when they got back, though whether they would try to mount a search for her she didn't know, though she considered it unlikely. But her father was a determined man and would not do nothing. She had mailed them a letter that would arrive the next day making everything clear. This was, after all, the fourth time she had left home for Stan, and her father loathed Stan as only a deeply committed Catholic could. He belonged to a secret organisation called Pater Noster committed to exposing heretics in the Catholic Church and had long before reported Stan to the Bishop of Wrocław. Stan had done much damage in post-communist Catholic Poland.

They had to change busses at Świdnica (Schweidnitz) and Isabel began to wish she had taken the train. A weather front hd moved in and tt had suddenly gone overcast. As the rain began to pelt down they rushed to the right shelter at the bus station. She began to wonder. An hour before the bus to Wrocław, and Benoni would soon get restless. It eventually came and they piled onboard again. At length the Gothic Tower of Wrocław Cathedral loomed and she began to long for the freedom of the train carriage. That would give Benoni more space to move around in. Wrocław Glówny - the central railway station - at last!

Another hour-and-a half wait for the train to Szczecin (Stettin). This was not a slow commuter train, with regular stops along the way. It seemed like a local train and yet it was an Intercity one. It poured with rain outside, the sky menacingly black, and Isabel began to wonder where the journey would end. She had only just the right amount of money for the planned route. If anything went wrong, they would be in trouble.

In one of those moments of panic she fretted at what Stan would say to her when he saw her again. Why was she always so afraid of him? And why only her? Why didn't the others feel the same way?

She thought back to her own childhood and remembered the stern look of her father when as a 12 year-old she broke the Bohemian vase in the lounge. Her father had reacted like an ogre, his face red with rage. She relived the blow across her face and saw the terrified look of her mother out of the corner of her eye. Everything had gone silent then. Though she knew her mother was screaming she could hear nothing.

The clatter of the train on the railtrack brought her back to the present. Benoni had scooted down the corridor and she momentarily panicked.

"Legnica! Legnica! (Liegnitz)" came the voice of the conductor on the speaker as the train came to a halt at a town that was an important part of Stan's own family history which Jenny had dreamed about. The rain seemed to have stopped as the train drew under the platform roof. Passengers piled in, doors slammed. A sharp whistle and the train lurched forwards again.

A couple of Germans sat opposite her. She didn't think about it much until she noticed that half the passengers in the waggon were speaking German now. "Odd," she thought to herself, and then remembered that increasing numbers of Germans were visiting the old German cities of Silesia.

"Żagań! Żagań! (Sagan)" came the conductor's voice again. Once more stop, people came and went, and Isabel, seeing that Benoni was asleep and Stanisław absorbed in a book, dozed off.

"Paß, bitte!" came the firm but friendly voice of the official shaking her shoulder. Isabel stirred, looked vacantly at the man, and asked in Polish if they had arrived at Szczcecin. But this was no Polish conductor but a German policeman! Her heart began to pound.

"Where are we?" she asked a woman opposite her in Polish, still confused, but she shook her head and shruggled her shoulders. She was German too.

"Passport, please," said the German customs official, realising that she didn't understand German. "German Customs Control."

Isabel's mouth dropped and panicked seized her.

"German?" she stuttered in shock. "Isn't this Szczecin??"

"Guben", said the German. "This is Guben. Where are you going?" he asked.

"Szczecin!" she said again. "I am going to Szczecin!"

"This is the Breslau to Berlin train," said the man, by now becoming a little irritated. "This is the border post of Guben. Next stop Frankfurt-an-der-Oder, then Berlin."

Isabel froze. "It can't be!" she insisted. "I am on my way to Szczecin!"

The officer asked for her tickets and called over the conductor as the train rolled out of Guben station and headed for Frankfurt.

"You are on the wrong train."

"I must go back!" cried Isabel, shaking. "Please let us off!"

"It is too late, madam," said the man. "You will have to disembark at Frankfurt and return to Poland from there."

Her mind was in a swirl, with tickets bought all the way to Sweden, but with no money left for anything else, she was in a jam.

Now the German ticket conductor wanted the Guben-Frankfurt fare paid for.

"I have no German money," she said, beginning to cry a little.

A furious discussion took place between the customs official and the conductor while all eyes in the carriage looked at poor Isabel, for whom such situations were the worst possible kind of nightmare. She loathed the attention of lots of strangers and had it not been for the boys she would probably have made for the toilet and hidden. She felt trapped, exposed and wanted to run.

They looked at the tickets again.

"You are going to Sassnitz?" they asked. "And then taking the ferrey to Trelleborg in Sweden at 23:35?"

She nodded as the conductor thumbed through a large train timetable, presumably checking to see if some other connection could be made.

"It makes no sense to cross back into Poland again and then return to Germany," said the ticket official, trying to reassure her.

"You can take a train from Berlin to Eberswalde and Prenzlau which will take you straight to to Sassnitz. It will give you time to catch your ferry to Sweden. You can have the Anklam to Sassnitz part of the ticket refunded but you would have to pay from Guben to Anklam."

"I told, you, I have no German money - I already have tickets to Sassnitz!" protested Isabel, as anger took over from blind panic.

"But this is on Polish railways to Stettin - that ticket is not valid on the Bundesbahn!" said the ticket collector, apparently not wanting to know anything more about her predicament. "You can probably reclaim your money on the Polish side."

Isabel explained that she was not returning to Poland but returning home to Sweden - that she would have no opportunity to reclaim it.

"Then you must get off the train at Frankfurt and cross the border to Słubice (Dammvorstadt, a former suburb of Frankfurt on the Polish side of the River Oder) - there you can resume a later train to Stettin," said the man, by now getting very impatient. "But I must have the fare from Guben to Frankfurt!"

Isabel froze, not knowing what to do. She had no money at all, save for a few Swedish kronor to allow her to get from Leksand by bus or taxi up to Kadesh-Naphtali. She had wanted to make this journey without anyone's help. She would return home under her own power and spare herself the humility of having to be picked up by Stan or one of the others ... and especially not by the others. She had it all planned - she would arrive at night the following day and quietly return to her room without anyone noticing and from there figure out how to face her husband and sister-wives.

"I only have some Swedish kronor," she said, and showed the scowling ticket conductor who wished to move on to check the other passengers before the train arrived at Frankfurt.

"Very well," he said, "I will accept this from Guben to Frankfurt. Then you must disembark and cross the border across the Oder at Słubice."

There was no time to work out an exchange rate. The German was breaking company rules anyway but was wise enough to see that if he called the police to have her arrested in Frankfurt the railway company probably wouldn't see a single Mark.

Parted with her Swedish money, Isabel found herself in Frankfurt railway station. But what of the train she was supposed to be on? How could she ever catch that now? To get to the that train she would have to find her way some 25-30 kilometers to a town called Rzepin (Reppen). How could she possibly walk that distance with a pram, luggage, and a child in tow, especially as she was both exhaused from the stress of the day already as well as not fully recovered from her concussion?

The sky was still overcast and menacing but at least the rain had stopped. The three stood outside the Hauptbahnhof, the Central Railway Station of Germany's second Frankfurt in the east, and she wondered what on earth to do next. Isabel froze in blind panic. She had no money for a bus, tram or taxi. All that she had were her legs and guts.

"I must go home to Sweden, I must go home to Sweden," she kept repeating to herself insistently, and without knowing where she was going, just started walking as fast as she could, dragging Stanisław behind her at a trot.

"Wo ist Polen? (Where is Poland?)" she asked a passerby in her broken German, who pointed her eastwards to the border. All she wanted to do was get out of Germany and back onto familiar territory again.

Isabel remembered little of the trek through Frankfurt-an-der-Oder. Most of it was all a blurr to her. Steely determination, something that was not natural to her temperament, had gripped her and her whole soul was now focussed on one place: Rzepin. If she didn't make it there in time to catch the slower train she had accidentally missed she knew she was finished. She would be stranded for goodness knows how long and have to call her father and wait for him to collect her. It would be captivity for life if that happened.

How she got to the bridge she never knew for a power not her own guided her across that city. She never once looked at a signpost, hardly noticed the traffic at all, in fact.

The border. She was very tired and yet her journey had hardly begun. The traffic queued at Customs. Her eye ran down the line of cars and lorries in the hope she might be able to get a lift.

"Lord, lead me to where I am to go," she pled in desperation in a mumbled prayer. A "PL" sticker caught her eye and she headed for it - a lorry. Normally unable to do such a thing, she boldly went up to the driver and asked if he could give her and the children a lift over the border.

"Where're you going," asked the Pole, looking up from his newspaper, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Rzepin," she replied almost inaudibly.

"OK," came the unhesitant reply. "I'm going to Świebodzin (Schwiebus) - I can drop you off there. Hop in!"

Isabel breathed a sigh of relief, hardly able to believe her luck. She quickly thanked the Lord, and got Benoni out of the pram which promptly fell over backwards. The traffic was beginning to move so the driver jumped out and helped her get her things on board and his new passengers secured.

He asked her no questions and Isabel was in no mood to give answers anyway, so the silence was to their mutual liking. He occasionally glanced at Benoni and smiled, but that was all. Isabel began to wonder about the time. The village of Kunowice (Kunersdorf) came and went. They were safe across the border!

"Can you drop us off at the railway station at Rzepin?" she suddenly asked, breaking the silence. "We have a train we need to catch!"

"Jasne (Sure)," said the driver nonchalantly. They hadn't even introduced themselves so she never did learn his name. Stanisław was enjoying the ride, the first time he had been in a massive truck. The enormous windscreen reminded him of the bridge of a Starship in a science fiction film he had seen with Władysław in Raj.

The railway station loomed ahead ... and in the distance an approaching train. Isabel panicked.

"There's our train!" she cried out, not knowing whether it was or not but not wanting to take the chance. The driver didn't need to be told what she needed and pushed down hard on the gas peddal, making the truck lurch forward. She grabbed Benoni to stop him flying into the dashboard - Stanisław grabbed his mother's left arm.

The lorry screached to a halt outside the station whilst Isabel and the boys were hurriedly disgored, almost tripping over themselves to get to the train. There wasn't even time to thank the driver who waved at Stanisław as he looked back at the shining hulk which for a while had been his own spaceship.

It was her train - she hardly dared believe it. Yet another mad scramble, with only just enough time to get her suitcase off the platform before the train moved out and headed finally towards Szczecin. Isabel slumped into her seat and began to laugh - not with joy but with shere relief. Then she cried a little whilst Stanisław looked up sympatheticallly to comfort her.

Now nothing seemed to matter. She never noticed the stations as they passed - Kostrzyn (Küstrin) ... Stan would have told her the history of the place if he had been there with them and she chuckled. She would have listened this time because suddenly he became attractive to her in a way he had never been before. Now she wanted to really know him, even the German history which she, as a Pole, had always despised. She saw him in her mind's eye and heard his voice echoing in the distance ....

"Now this, dearest," she imagined he was saying, "is the fortress of Küstrin where Frederick the Great of Prussia was imprisoned by his father when he was a young man in a rather austere castle. And there's the bridge the Germans tried to blow up in 1945 using Mistletoe aircraft jammed full of TNT to stop the Soviets crossing the River Oder." And so he went on and on in her mind, as she knew he would have done had he been with them, and she smiled and laughed a little, and wished he was there holding her hand and cuddling her. She would listen to anything just to have him back. And yes, she'd have Anna, and Kryztina and all the others back- all of them. She suddenly wanted to be the plurally married woman she had never been before.

The sun broke through the dark clouds and at once she did feel joy. It felt like a sign. Stanisław and Benoni picked up her mood and happiness returned to them too. Stanisław, Jr., with the same curiosity and hunger for knowledge about places as his father, kept asking his mother about every village they passed through, and each time she said, "You'll have to ask father when we get home!"

"Look!" he said, "Chojna!"

Isabel looked blankly at him. What was so special about that town?

"Don't you know, mother?" he asked, as though she should know.

"It's Chojna!"

Isabel still stared blankly at her son.

"Father told us that Chojna is the old German town of Königsberg in Neumark, and Königsberg is the German for Królewiec!"

Isabel hadn't remembered - such things had never been of interest to her before, but now, hearing Stanisław's explanation, she made a symbolic connection to her journey ... she was returning home to her name - Królewiec - and here was a town connected to it in some way. She saw it as a prophetic sign, and was thankful for Stanisław's alertness.

Once more they were crossing the Oder and a short while afterwards the train lumbered into Szczecin station. And even though she had to change trains again, Isabel was at peace. Everything was back on schedule, the way she liked things.

A few hours later, tired but happy, they were standing on the pier at Sassnitz on the island of Rügen where Stan and Anna had once stood holding hands. She remembered the time Stan had called her from his hôtel and the household had breathed a sigh of relief that they were both safe. Now she wanted to sleep - desperately - and was the first passenger to board the ferry and fling herself down onto her bunk bed with the boys in the cabin. She hadn't noticed the cabin number - 333 - until some months later when Stanisław, with his eagle-like eye, spotted it on the ticket. But even if she had, she would have been too tired to note its import.

For 3½ hours Isabel slept soundly until woken by the intercom announcing the ship's arrival at Trelleborg. Sweden at last! But there was still a long journey up to Kopparberg, and home.