A gentle but steady rain began pouring on Meaux, watering everything under the sky. Both human and pig got wet, but not for long as Anton went inside where it was warm and dry, leaving Marcel outside. Anton went upstairs and changed out of his wet clothes.
When he returned downstairs, Uncle Rupert was in the living room watching television. Meanwhile, Madame Marchant prepared truffles in the kitchen.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I thought I could help,” he replied.
“I’m almost finished,” she said, “why don’t’ you ask your Uncle if he wants to do something?”
“He looks busy, too,” said Anton.
Madame Marchant led Anton to the living room. Uncle Rupert was reclined in his chair, with a glass of Brandy in one hand and the television remote in the other.
“What are your plans for today, brother Rupert?”
“I may prepare a cheese plate and watch some football.”
“Why not kick the football with Anton instead?”
“It’s raining outside.”
“Rain won’t hurt you.”
“I have a better idea,” said Rupert.
He rocked the chair forward and went to the bookshelf in the corner. He plucked out an old wooden box. He gave a quick huff and a cloud of dust came off the top. As he opened the lid, it revealed a set of black tiles.
“Dominoes? That seems boring,” replied Anton.
“Boring? Hardly!” spouted Uncle Rupert. “Do you remember your Great Uncle Gilbert?”
“Was he the priest?”
Rupert nodded.
“I went to the Cathedral in Saint Julian every day after school and we’d play dominoes until it got dark and was time to go home.”
“I still don’t think I’ll like it.”
“That’s because you have never played Dominoes.”
“I play with them all the time at school.”
“I said play dominoes, not play with dominoes.”
“What’s the difference?” shrugged Anton.
Uncle Rupert dumped the tiles on the coffee table and flipped them all so they faced down.
“Now, we each pick five dominoes.”
Anton carefully sorted through the tiles, picking five dominoes. He then sat them on their side, so only he could see the dotted sides. It was just as his Uncle had done.
“Now what?”
“We take turns placing dominoes on the table, one at a time. The number of dots on the end of any domino must match the number of dots on the side of the domino it touches.”
“Like this?” asked Anton as he placed a domino with five dots on side against the domino on the table, which also had five dots on one side.
“Exactly.”
“What do we do if we don’t have any matches?”
“Then you pick a new domino from the boneyard, that pile of dominoes that we haven’t used yet.”
“And if that domino doesn’t match?”
“Then you pick another tile.”
“What if the boneyard is empty?”
“Then you pass, which means you skip your turn.”
“And to win?”
“Get rid of all your tiles, of course,” answered Uncle Rupert.
They played the first game, with Uncle Rupert winning. At the end, they counted the dots (also called pips) on Anton’s unplayed dominoes. That was Uncle Rupert’s score for that hand.
“Would you like me to fix a cheese plate?” asked Uncle Rupert.
Anton nodded.
“Face all the dominoes down and shuffle the tiles while I fix a plate.”
“Do we have camembert?”
“If we do, I’ll add it to the plate,”
As Anton readied the dominoes for another hand, Uncle Rupert went to the kitchen, where Madame Marchant was cleaning dishes.
“You’re hungry already?” she asked.
“I’m just fixing a cheese plate,” replied Uncle Rupert.
“Let me do it,” said Madame Marchant.
“Anton wants Camembert and I want another snifter of Brandy.”
“How about I fix hot tea instead?”
“That’ll be fine,” replied Uncle Rupert as he returned to the game.
Uncle Rupert returned to his domino game while Madame Marchant prepared the mid-day snack. When she was finished, she joined the boys in the living room. The tray not only had cheese and crackers, but fresh grapes and truffles, too.
“You know those are tiny monks, right?” she stated.
“What?” said Anton.
“The dominoes are tiny monks. They were called dominoes because they reminded ancient Romans of the French priests, who they called ‘domini’. The domini wore black robes with white inside their cloaks.”
“Did Uncle Gilbert wear that kind of robe?” asked Anton.
“He was a priest, not a monk,” stated mother.
“What’s the difference?”
“Monks stay in their monasteries or seminaries. They believe it’s the highest form of worship. Your Great Uncle Gilbert was a priest at his church, but he didn’t live there.”
“Why would monks live at their monasteries?”
“Part of their oath is to remain separate from the public life.”
“Why are we allowed to visit the local monastery in Meaux?”
“They don’t remain completely separate. They sell things to help support their way of life, just like the rest of us. We get our honey from that monastery. Monks have jobs, just like everyone else.”
“They make electronic parts like my father?”
“I don’t think they do that, but they do cook and clean and bake homemade bread, too.”
“What is their day like?” said Anton.
“I would guess it’s very busy. I know they wake up very early and go to bed very late. I often see them walking around the gardens in the monastery.”
“Yes,” replied Anton, “I’ve seen them, too.”
“They also join together during the day to pray. Sometimes, they even sing Gregorian Chants or Canticles. The Chants are prayers, sung in Latin.”
“We sing Canticles in church, right?”
“Probably the same ones the monks have sung for centuries.”
“How do you know all this if monks lead private lives?”
“Although they choose to be separate from the rest of the world, sometimes the world does not stay separate from them. There are wars and natural disasters to force the monks from their monasteries. That is probably how the Romans knew about the monks.”
“There could not have been so many disasters or even wars.”
“There was also freewill. Some monks didn’t stay hidden away from everyone. Your Great Uncle Gilbert was one of those men.”
“He was a monk?”
Madame Marchant nodded.
“Although he loved the spiritual life, he did not love being apart from his family. One day, he packed his things and left the monastery.”
Uncle Rupert nodded, “He often talked about his days in the monastery. Leaving was one of the tough choices he made, just like becoming a priest. It’s a life of devotion.”
“What’s devotion?”
“Dedicating as much of yourself as you can to something in which you believe.”
“I’m devoted to Camembert cheese!” announced Anton.
“I think the devotion is to more important things, like family,” suggested Madame Marchant.
“I’m devoted to Camembert and Dominoes with Uncle Rupert.”
“That sounds like a plan,” said his mother, “I think I’ll devote some time to watching football and eating cheese, too.”
Anton spent the rest of the morning with his uncle and mother, eating and playing dominoes. This was the kind of devotion he truly enjoyed. Now he understood why his Great Uncle Gilbert chose to leave the monastery – to be with the ones whom he truly loved.
Dominus Dominoes
