~G.K. Chesterton, ‘The Man Who Was Thursday’~
Come What May
They had ridden into the village with the dawning, a great Knight and his retainers, his armor stained crimson in the rising morn. Curiosity drew the entire town and most of its outlying residents to gather upon the green and gape at the fellow as if they had never seen a stranger before. True, the village was rather small and remote, but merchants and travelers still found their way thither on a regular basis, but true warriors and heroes never ventured into such a place. The ladies brought out various food stuffs and everyone changed into their holiday best; soon it was a veritable festival while the Knight stood in their midst regaling one and all with many a tale of his daring do. The village boys eyed his companions with envy, wishing they too could be on the road to adventure and renown. A slight smile and a knowing look sparkled in the Knight’s eyes as he saw the thoughtful look upon the face of almost every lad in the village, knowing how his stories enthralled their young and eager hearts, he continued to pour out his tales. At last, he stopped for breath and food, and the villagers assaulted him with their myriad questions and glowing admiration. He answered as he might and watched his audience keenly, gaging the appropriate moment to set the hook.
At last, he felt the time had come and he sprung the trap, “I suppose there might be a youth or two in this village with the courage and heart to set forth in quest of adventures unknown, to return himself one day a hero and man of renown?” The mothers in the crowd blanched in fear, the fathers smiled proudly, the girls cheered eagerly, and almost every lad burst into exuberant shouts that he was just such a lad. The Knight let the furor die down and continued, “very well, any and all who think themselves possessed of the necessary mettle can accompany me.” The cheers resumed and he set about telling them what would be needed for the upcoming journey.
Only one lad did not share in the joy of the occasion, Tabor stood in the shadows of the forge and watched his fellows and the stranger with a sad, quiet resignation. The boy was of a sickly and weak disposition, his widowed mother had recently died, making him an orphan as well. He was tolerated by his folk, but no more could be said of his situation. The lads his own age made his life a torment and the girls would have nothing to do with him, save to laugh among themselves when they thought he was not looking. Of all the folk in the village, he had the least holding him there, but such a valiant hero certainly would not want such a pathetic creature tagging along in his wake. So the boy hid in the shadows, watched his fellows with a breaking heart, and wondered what his own future might hold.
A quiet, heartening voice interrupted his thoughts and said unexpectedly beside him, “why are you not intending to head off into the wild unknown with all your peers lad?”
The boy stared at the second stranger in befuddlement, who was this that would deign to speak to him? The man was plainly clad, a stark contrast to the Knight in his glittering mail, but carried a sword at his hip as if he knew well the use of the weapon. His eyes held warmth, humor, and wisdom, and the boy felt no scorn in the man’s question or regard. Said the boy in a timid whisper, “they would not have me sir even if I dared make my hopes known and their censure would be more than I could bear.”
The man nodded in understanding, a grim look on his face, “that man is not all he appears nor are his promises what they seem. Do not be too disappointed that you cannot accompany him, I fear many of your friends will rue their current eagerness before all is finished.”
The boy stared at the stranger in even more astonishment, “who are you to condemn this man?”
The man smiled wryly, “we were boys together, I have known him all my life and I know whom he serves.”
Said the boy in surprise, “should we not warn them if their fate shall be as dire as you say?”
The man shook his head sadly, “who would listen to either of us? I am a poor stranger and you a despised local, our antipathy towards this man would only encourage them further. The signs are there if your folk are willing to see them, but they are likely blinded by their own greed and pride.”
Tabor looked closer at the richly clad stranger and for the first time truly saw him. Though his words were eager and fervent, there was an undeniable undercurrent of derision and grimness in tone and manner. His eyes sparkled with glee, but it was a malicious sort of joy, knowing he had these unsuspecting whelps exactly where he wanted them. His own retainers were silent not in awe but in a gloomy sort of resignation. The boy took all this in and turned astonished eyes upon his companion, saying, “what then shall be their fate if they go with this deceitful fellow?”
The man shook his head, “a few may find their way into the Knighthood of his vile master as promised while the majority will become common foot soldiers in his army or servants in his halls or fields.”
Tabor smiled in spite of himself, “at least here they are free men and will one day inherit their fathers’ land or trade, but to become a menial in another man’s field when one sets out to become a Knight must be a harsh blow indeed.”
The man nodded, “aye lad, they shall become veritable slaves in service to a grim and terrible King, never seeing their homes or families again, unless they return as this fellow has done, to recruit more unsuspecting fools into his master’s service.”
Tabor said sadly, “at least I never need worry about catching his eye. But what is to become of me?”
The man smiled, “whatever you wish lad!”
The boy glanced around morosely, “my greatest wish is to leave this place and see what the world holds for me, but alas, at least here I have food and shelter, wretched as it may be. If I left, I might find myself starving upon the highway or freezing under a hedge.”
The man shook his head and smiled warmly, “I could at least see that you escaped starvation and frostbite.”
The boy’s eyes were wide with incredulity, “did you not just caution me not to go off with a stranger? How am I to know that the fate of my fellows or worse, shall not befall me at your hands?” The man only looked at him and the boy was forced to draw conclusions from what he could see and feel about this man. He sighed heavily and said ruefully, “very well, I suppose you and he are not cast from the same mold. What would be the purpose of me accompanying you?”
The man shrugged, “I am a warrior in my own right, certainly not as bold and showy as my deceitful counterpart over there, but no less skilled for all of that. You could become my apprentice and learn what you must, going your own way whenever you tire of my company.” The boy laughed at the incongruity of thinking himself a warrior of any stripe but the man continued, “I know you think yourself too sick, weak, and pathetic for such a life, but there is more to you than you know lad. In my experience, it is the heart of a man that counts for everything, physical strength is secondary.”
The boy thoughtfully studied his companion for a few moments, smiled contentedly, and nodded, saying, “very well, I will accompany you and let us hope you can make something vital and useful out of this frail and unassuming bit of mankind.”
The man slapped him on the back eagerly and said, “very well lad, we shall set off at first light tomorrow. I will try to convince some of your fellows to rethink their eagerness in the interim.”
The pair withdrew from the shadows in which they had been conversing and companionably joined the gathering on the green. Most did not notice their presence, focused as they were on the other stranger, but the few that did gave the pair an affronted glare before turning their attention back to the veritable hero before them. As afternoon faded into evening, the still excited party withdrew into the inn to continue the celebration. The brilliant warrior continued to extol the vague glories of what the lads would find upon their quest and all hung on his words with trepidation and joy; he spared the plainly clad stranger one scornful look and then continued on as if the man were not there. Said Tabor after the interaction, “he seems to consider you
a nuisance, but not enough of a bother to spare more than a glance.”
The man smiled deeply, “aye lad, he knows I am no real threat to his pontifications and schemes and any lad interested in the likes of me would be of absolutely no interest to him. I am a fly, a mere pest, and nothing more.”
As the night wore on, the Knight withdrew to his room, but bid his companions to be ready to ride at first light. The jubilant youths finally noticed Tabor’s presence and his uninteresting companion. They ignored the stranger and did their best to make him know how fully they despised and scorned him, and how glad they were that he would not survive two days upon such a journey. Tabor bore their torment patiently and the stranger said nothing. Finally, as their contempt wound down, the man spoke, “lads, have you fully considered what it might mean to go off with this man, no questions asked?”
Sneered the largest of the bunch, “we will do as we please! Who are you to question our motives, desires, or actions?”
The man shook his head sadly, “I only ask that you fully think out what it might mean to place yourselves in the power of such a man with only his vainglorious promises for assurance.” They laughed scornfully at him and withdrew into a small knot to discuss their own bright futures amongst themselves.
Tabor said quietly, “you were correct in your assumptions of trying to talk sense to them. Your attempts only make them more eager.” He sighed heavily, “if only there were something I could do.”
The man smiled quietly and said, “by coming with me, you are doing all you can. Who knows what their futures or your own holds? Mayhap you will be the one to rescue them from the peril into which they are blindly and willingly flinging themselves.” All sought their beds soon after, for they would leave early on the morrow.
The Knight appeared the next morning in all his splendor and a half dozen youths soon joined him on the green, most afoot but two of the more affluent riding unremarkable horses. The man sniffed at their pathetic mounts but hid his derision well. He glanced at his recruits in surprise, for twice their number had eagerly thronged about him the previous day, but well was he used to the first eagerness dying utterly when faced with the terror of riding off into the unknown, and he needed no such cowards. The plainly clad stranger and Tabor led their equally unremarkable horses out onto the green beside the gathering party.
Sneered the same boy from the previous evening, “I see you are setting out as well and have even found yourself a companion worthy of equal contempt.”
Said the Knight sharply, “enough chatter in the ranks, let us be on our way.” At this unexpectedly harsh statement, another lad drew back, drawing a glare from their leader, but he quickly dismissed the coward from his mind and ordered his remaining minions out of the village. The overbold youth sneered at the reluctant lad, Tabor, and the other stranger with equal scorn before he vanished around a bend in the road.
The stranger said eagerly, “we too should be on our way.” He glanced at the remaining youth and said, “you have made a wise decision lad, do not regret what you have done. The man’s charm is only skin deep and your companions will learn that only too late.”
Tabor clambered into his saddle, quite unused to riding, but grateful for the horse the stranger had provided. The man watched him in amusement and then led the way out of the village. The remaining youth watched them ride off and wondered what would come of it all. He smiled to think that Tabor of all people was actually riding off on such a venture while he remained safely at home. He turned back towards home and was welcomed joyously back by his distraught mother.
The years passed and no word had yet come back to that particular village of the fate that had befallen any of its missing lads, either for good or ill. On a dreary day of rain, five years after the boys had ridden out so boldly and joyously in the morning, a weary traveler turned in at the inn and sank gratefully into a chair beside the fire. The innkeeper left the table he was wiping and hastened to greet his only guest, for it was yet early in the day. Said the rather young host to the thoroughly wet man, “what would be your pleasure my good man?”
The man’s eyes sparkled in amusement as they met those of the unwitting innkeeper and he ordered something warm to drink. The innkeeper frowned at the man’s inexplicable mirth but hastened back to the kitchens to procure his beverage. He had gone two steps when he froze and turned back towards the unnamed man, still sitting in his chair and bemusedly watching him. The host returned and said in astonishment, “Tabor? Can it be you?”
The man laughed heartily and threw his arms around the innkeeper, who had once been the reluctant boy on the green. They laughed joyously and exchanged surprise and wonder at the changes the years had wrought. The innkeeper shook his head in astonishment, “look at you man! No one would believe you were once a frail, sickly creature!” He laughed deeper, “look at me! I married the innkeeper’s daughter and now run the place in his stead.” He sobered, “what has come of the others?”
Tabor shook his head, “I have not seen them since the day of our parting, but knowing the man with whom they left, I cannot say their fate was a happy one.”
Just then the door burst open and immediately the intruder began demanding a hot drink and a bath. Both of the men stared at the newcomer in amazement, but strangely not surprised somehow to see Tyne standing there in the regalia of a full knight. The loudest, boldest, and largest of the lads that had fled the village that day had achieved that which he had set out in pursuit of. A sneer twisted his face as he recognized the innkeeper but he was clueless as to who the other man might be; he would never have recognized Tabor standing there with a sword at his hip, a man full of vigor and strength or believed it was he, even if he had. He ignored the fool and repeated his demands. The innkeeper bobbed a bow and immediately set about his preparations. Tyne nodded sharply, took off the bulk of his sodden outer layers, and threw himself into a chair by the fire.
Apparently bored while waiting for his bath, the knight said condescendingly to his companion, “so what brings you here?”
Tabor smiled ruefully and resumed his own chair by the fire, “just passing though on other business when the weather encouraged me to turn in here.”
The knight scoffed, “I can’t abide a man who has not the strength of will or body to endure whatever may come, a little rain never hurt anyone!”
Tabor did his best to conceal his amusement, knowing this bold knight was here for the same reasons as himself. Said he as blandly as he could manage, “then what brings you here, Sir Knight?”
The knight glared at the stranger’s temerity for a moment, but then relaxed and said as he settled back into his chair, “you would be wise not to question your betters boy, but my master’s business has me in the area and as I grew up here I thought it might be amusing to revisit my boyhood home.” He eyed the stranger coldly, taking in everything about the man, before hissing, “I know what you are and I do not appreciate meddlers in my affairs. Mind your own business and there need not be any trouble.”
Tabor laughed quietly to himself but said nothing in reply, for the innkeeper had returned with their drinks and said the bath would soon be ready. The Knight grunted his assent and chased the man off with another glare. The Knight sipped from the steaming mug, winced as he burned his lips, and turned his attention back to his unwanted companion, said he, “you don’t need to live like this you know? You could wear the finest clothes, ride a decent horse, and sleep at an inn every night upon the road. You need not be a poorly clad vagrant who sleeps under a hedge as often as not. My master is a generous man to those skilled enough to earn his patronage.”
Tabor scoffed, “I know full well who and what your master is and I wish nothing to do with him, no matter how well paid I might be for my trouble. I am content with my lot, but come, tell me what came of the others who rode off with you that day?”
The knight blinked in surprise at both the question and the stranger’s outright
refusal of his grand offer, recovering quickly he asked, “how is it you know about that?”
Tabor grinned, “you do not recognize me then?”
The Knight shook his head, “who am I to know every wastrel that wonders the highways?”
Said the man quietly, “I was a lad in this village like yourself, your favorite target for ridicule and scorn.”
The Knight blinked again, recognition dawning but not belief, gasped he, “it cannot be!”
Tabor smiled, “I hardly believe it myself, but it is the truth, now come, what of your companions?”
Tyne shook himself, trying to regain his composure, but he finally grunted, “two scrub floors in my master’s palace and the other two I doubt are still alive. They were sent to the wars away south as common soldiers and with little training, constant fighting, and rampant disease, the attrition rate is ghastly.” He smiled maliciously, “but that is what such miserable wretches deserve.” He glared at Tabor, “you would not even have qualified to scrub floors!” He glanced derisively at his sword, “can you actually use that thing?”
Tabor nodded but said nothing, but silently wondered if the man’s offer still stood, now that he knew who he was. The innkeeper returned and escorted the Knight towards his waiting bath. Tabor attended to his drink while his mind raced, wondering if this meeting were indeed chance? The Knight returned an hour later and resumed his vacated chair, his drink now cold, but he was quite revived and even a little relaxed, enough at least to tolerate the fool that still sat beside him. “Can you really be content in such service?” asked the Knight at last, “you will never have renown or fortune or even a home!”
Tabor smiled contentedly, “those things are not what makes life worth the living. I am very content in my choice of profession. What of you? Even with the glory or fame you seem to think necessary, you cannot be happy serving such a lord?”
The Knight scoffed, “what would you know of it? I am what I ever aspired to be and my master is of exactly the temperament as myself, so my situation is nearly perfect.”
Tabor bowed his head in acquiescence, “very well Sir Knight, I meant no offense.”
Tyne scoffed, “I am sure you didn’t but your ilk give it by default. I bid you good night.” He stood stiffly and vanished towards his room. Tabor donned his cloak and went back out into the rain.
The Knight tried to retire early, but to no avail, he tossed and turned all night and the thoughts swirling in his mind would give him no comfort or rest. He was astonished at the changes wrought in the once sickly youth, the physical improvement was phenomenal, but was actually the least of what perplexed the Knight. The man had met his gaze, answered his challenges, and stood his ground, whereas he had always shrunk from the least insult or frustration when they were boys together. What had changed the boy so much? Tyne knew he himself had changed but little, save in the physical disciplines, he was still very much the boy he once was whereas Tabor had become a man. He did not want to admit to himself that he envied Tabor, but it was the root of his unease on that disquiet night. They had both set out seeking their future, but only one of them was truly happy with his lot, and it was not the man who bragged of his might, fame, and valor. He had everything the other man did not, why could he not be content therein? What was his secret, what was he hiding? He must find out.
The Knight rose before the sun, hoping his quarry had not escaped him. The dismal rain of the previous night gave way to a mist shrouded dawn of gold and rose; the trees and grass glistened as if begemmed. The innkeeper assured the Knight that Tabor had not slept at the inn, and familiar with the local area from his youth, it was not difficult to guess where the vagrant had secreted himself for the night. The man was just stowing the last of his gear in his saddlebags when the Knight entered the little glade with drawn sword. Tabor turned around suddenly, hand on his hilt and fire in his eyes. The Knight took an unconscious step back when his gaze met Tabor’s, not expecting to find a warrior of such caliber in the guise of his childhood prey.
“What do you want Tyne?” said Tabor coldly.
Tyne laughed in spite of himself, “I see you are utterly changed indeed.” He sheathed his weapon and held up his hands in token of peace, “I want what you have.”
Tabor relaxed and warmed significantly, “what I have?”
Tyne nodded and looked at the ground, discomfited, “your life is not easy but you are happy. Mine is relatively luxurious but I am discontent.”
Tabor snorted, “and you thought to come and take that by force?”
Tyne seemed fascinated by his toe, with which he was trying to dig a hole, “I thought perhaps to end my disquiet by ending your content. Perhaps if there was no comparison I would be more at ease.” He shook his head grimly, “but murder would not avail me.”
Tabor shook his head in astonishment, “no, it would only make things worse, but all men can have what I have found.” Tyne looked up hopefully as he continued, “but you cannot find it serving as an agent of deceit or in pursuing your own selfish motives.” Tyne looked rather uneasy at this statement, but he knew the man was right, if only he would admit it to himself.
“What must I do?” came the plaintive question.
Tabor shook his head, “it is a question of heart, not of action. Are you willing to change your heart as well as your actions? You can find peace and contentment scrubbing floors with a humble heart but even were you King, you would be discontent with your current attitude.”
The man’s words did not sit well with the uncomfortable Knight and his sword was again bare between them, snarled he, “how dare you preach to me!”
Tabor had his own blade out and said wryly, “are you not the one who demanded such answers of me?” Tyne only snarled as he leapt upon his foe. Tabor easily drove him off and then they began to circle. Tabor asked, “what is the point of all this? How will one of us killing the other avail either of us? It is your own uneasy heart with which you must wrestle, not me!” Tyne snarled again and launched himself fully into the altercation, knowing only that he could not allow this prattling fool to live.
When it was finished, Tyne sat propped against a tree, clutching his wounded arm and gasping for air while the unscathed Tabor stood over him, looking grim and wondering what to do with the unstable Knight. Tyne puffed out, “I will not be beaten by you!” He leapt to his feet, still clutching his arm, and bolted into the woods. Tabor stared after in disbelief, but felt he had best move on before Tyne considered a rematch or found reinforcements. He flung himself into his saddle and rode off quickly in the opposite direction.
Tyne fled blindly into the woods, leaving his horse, sword, retainers, and luggage behind him, knowing only the bitterness of an agonized soul in grief and defeat. For two days he heedlessly ran deeper into the wildwoods on the border of his own master’s grim country and that of his birth. His mind reeled, his arm throbbed, and he could not rest, save for when exhaustion forced him from his feet for a few hours but then as soon as strength returned, he would charge off again, trying vainly to flee the horrors indwelling his own soul. Bitterness, fury, grief, humiliation, and despair raged through him like a blizzard, freezing his heart and numbing his mind. All he could think about was revenge. At last he collapsed and lapsed into dreams dark and grim. He awoke to find himself utterly lost in a dank and dreary forest of ancient trees hung about with hoary moss. He shivered, whether in cold, terror, or revulsion, he did not know, but a sudden gust of wind chilled him to the bone and felt as cold as Death itself. He sat up and glanced warily about him, wondering how to exact revenge when he was not even sure where he was at the moment. His gaze soon fell upon the source of the morbid wind and a cold smile grew on his lips as he stood and made his way thither.
A cave gaped in the side of a hill a stone’s throw from where he had fallen, and from thence did the fell wind originate. He stared grimly into the fathomless void and knew he looked upon one of the fabled en
trances into the Abyss; here would be the ideal place to strike the bargain that would guarantee his revenge upon his pious nemesis, whatever it might cost him. A voice drew his attention and he jumped when he realized he was not alone. A short, bony woman, so twisted and wrinkled with age that he had mistaken her for the dead stump of a weathered tree, sat upon a stone beside the Door, hissed she, “what have the living to do with this place?”
Tyne shivered, his very soul quivering in terror, but he said in a barely audible whisper, “life holds no delight for me any longer, at least while my foe lives, I will pay any price to see him destroyed utterly.”
“Well,” said she with thoughtful and malicious delight, “perhaps we can strike a bargain.” She pointed at the Abyss and cackled, “that is if you are willing to do anything for your revenge?” He shivered but nodded eagerly.
The sun was setting as Tabor drew rein in a little clearing inhabited by a singing brook and the last golden rays of the fleeing sun. He went about his evening chores, but a shadow lay heavy on his heart, he was uneasy as he had never been before. His horse whinnied nervously from across the clearing and seemed to share his inexplicable disquiet. The sun vanished beyond the horizon and a sudden, chill wind came up, driving a thin veil of clouds over the emerging stars and plunging the clearing into blackness. The horse screamed in terror, pulled loose, and fled into the night while the wind howled like a lost soul and carried the scent and cold of the grave. Tabor shuddered, wishing he could flee like the horse, but knowing that whatever was coming would find him regardless. He drew his sword, offered up a silent prayer, and set himself for battle, hoping this menace could be bested with a sword.
“At last,” came a chill, malicious laugh, “you will not escape your fate, fool!”
Tabor nearly dropped his sword in surprise, “Tyne! What have you done to yourself?”
The wraith entered the clearing, merely a darker stain in the brooding night, save for a pair of eyes that glowed like embers in the featureless face, it laughed darkly, “this is your fault, all your fault! And now I shall have my revenge, it cost me my soul, but it will be sweet indeed!”
Tabor shuddered and threw down his sword, knowing it would do no good against this otherworldly villain. Said he quietly, “this is all of your own making; I had no part in it.”
The shadow squawked indignantly, “you will not even stand and fight, coward? You will not even give me the chance to savor your futile efforts to defend your wretched life?”
Tabor shrugged and said in resignation, “I have no weapon or skill to avail me against whatever it is you are, and neither will I despair, even though all seems utterly hopeless. I will accept whatever is to come and therein shall I be content, come what may.”
The wraith howled in agony, “how can this be? Even in death you are content! Where is my revenge? My victory? What is the point if there is no bitterness, sorrow, or terror here at the end? My sacrifice is vain!”
Tabor said quietly, “your whole life has been vain, why did you think this would be any different. It is all for naught!”
“No!!!” shrieked the fiend, “if I cannot have my revenge, at least I can silence your prattling tongue!” He leapt at Tabor, who went to his knees as if he were a condemned man upon the block, and then the whole world erupted into a blinding radiance.
Somewhere a cricket chirped, the brook continued its song of eternal mirth, a star peeped out overhead. Tabor sat up slowly; he shook his head and blinked as he tried to ascertain what had just happened. He caught a brief glimpse of a unicorn standing at the edge of the clearing before it turned suddenly and vanished into the night dark wood. His wondering gaze followed after and an incredible peace washed over him, content whatever was to come.
The lion and the unicorn
were fighting for the crown;
the lion beat the unicorn
all around the town.
The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 113
