Angel of Brassario

Synopsis

The story unfolds in Italy in 1950. Twenty years previously Brassario was famous for hosting pilgrims and tourists, until one fateful day when it all stopped. Enter Fr. Joseph O’Connor who has no idea why he is in Italy. His gargantuan assignment is to banish evil and bring prosperity back to the village. Three priests have attempted the task and all suffered and failed. The Bishop and the new priest hatch a scheme, so preposterous that the Good Lord has to intervene to ensure relative success. Under pressure from his housekeeper who sees his future ‘in the leaves’, bullied by his boss and ostracised by most of his flock Joseph resorts to confiding in a strange artefact, while receiving comfort from the only professing atheist in the village. Just as he convinces himself that he is an utter failure and amazing event leads to his coming of age. How he survives successive traumas, seeks the respect of the whole region and the fulfilment of his personal ambition is dramatically described, but will it be sufficient to prevent a return to Ireland in disgrace?

In a humorous way the book exposes the failings of organised religion, the sinfulness of mankind and shows how God still loves people. The hard won ministry and the inadequacies of the priest will be felt and recognised by many. Irrespective of denomination, readers will be able to empathise with the pain this man of God has to suffer.

Book is also available to download and view on a tablet.

Chapter 1

Italy

Hot cobbles sear his feet.

“Dear Lord what have you brought me to? Only four hundred and fifty souls, but surely one of them might be here to greet me?”

Joseph O’Connor trails a finger around the inside of a sweaty collar, wishing he could dispense with this permanent reminder, but standing on Italian soil such a thought seems sacrilegious. The words of the Dean come to mind.

“Rome wants you my boy and if Rome wants you then to Italy you shall go.”

Today he isn’t so sure. His sandals appear to be melting underfoot while God watches to see what his priest will do next. Regular conversations with the Lord usually result in some comfort, but today God appears to be afar.

“Forgive me Lord, but you certainly keep your priests humble.” The sun torments him in its unrelenting attempt to bleach his Berretta. It is removed to give air to brow.

“Do you want me to be in perpetual mourning, while in this country?”

Wiping away the sweat from weary eyes enables a scan of the piazza. Not a soul stirs to greet its priest from the Emerald Isle.

Not a sound penetrates the air apart from the diminishing rattle of the hay cart which deposited him in the village of Brassario. Peering through the heat-haze he spies the church. It is magnificent. He moves towards it, stopping by a weatherworn stone obelisk and gazes upwards. Lopsided, with only half a tower on one side it appears as beautiful as any gothic cathedral. Joseph muses over his shimmering charge.   A voice slices through his rapture, causing neck hairs to rise and a fearful turn of his head towards the obelisk.

“Father O’Connor, you are the priest from Irlanda?” it appears to utter.

Open mouthed, Joseph stares until the form of small woman appears. Little wonder she was missed, dressed entirely in black and standing against stone and cobbles. Breathing hard he waits as the form pulls back a cowl to reveal a human face.

“Father O’Connor; you are Father O’Connor?”  He swallows hard with relief.

“Why yes,” forgetting to speak in Italian but the sprite seems to understand.

“You are in terrible danger.”