Series of Initial Letters I Drew for Martin of Gfenn

Book One -- St. Martins

Draw the chickens! The feathers can wait!

--> Eve in her innocence saw the serpent as one more lovely thing God had made for her.

“Kneel beneath this cloth,” instructed the Provost.  Somehow Martin’s gasping wordless confession had left him in a state of grace and this black cloth was his tomb. “No!” he cried in his deep and silent heart, “I am not dead. I am alive!” Mass was said for his soul, ending with the prayer that Martin’s soul rest in peace.

 Book Two -- Zurich

The city was a walled jewel between two blue strands of stream against a shining lake.
“Don’t stop now!” someone yelled. Making a grand gesture with his right arm, Martin slowly drew a ladder. The people cheered.
“Good work, young man!” said one old man in the crowd. 
“I knew it was the story of Jacob!”
Martin saw only the girl standing beside a chair waiting for her mother to be seated. Her brown hair was parted in the middle, drawn back from her face and covered with the lace-trimmed cap worn only by a maid. The pure whiteness of her skin was interrupted only by pink roses on her cheeks, and when she lifted her face to greet him he saw sweet blue eyes fringed with dark lashes above a friendly, open smile. Her lips were the pure carmine Michele said had no place in nature, and here it was, as natural as morning.

Book Three - The Sagentobel

“You may believe that you are Martin, an artist, but for some time you have been Martin, a leper. No man is whole until he is able to live as himself...” 
He came upon a tree that had outreached the competitive struggle of the maple, birch and pine behind it. A magnificent giant with a wide trunk of lucent green, awash in light, its lowest branches so far above the lower growth that they pulled sunlight to the wildflowers on the forest floor. Martin sat with his back against the tree. Above the highest branches, blue sky faded to lavender.

Book Four -- Gfenn

--> “There are no enemies, Martin, save Satan. The rest are teachers, God’s messengers. I found only Anna’s father, what was his name? He stood in front of a group all carrying torches, fiends in the darkness..."
--> He chose the darkest day, the shortest of the year. After breakfast he went directly to the chapel, his pouch filled with the good black charcoal he had made and what remained of brightly colored pastels he had made in Zürich. Above the small arched window, he drew the head of Christ, the window forming the body of the Lord. To the left of Jesus, Martin drew John the Baptist; to Christ’s right, St. Lazarus, the leper leaning heavily on his crutch, shaded from the heat by an apple tree. Each movement of Martin’s hand took his thoughts to this wall and restored his life. If the Commander didn’t like it, Martin had only to wash it away.