Historical setting: A dark age in Gaul, probably 462 C.E.
I beg the doctor. “Please let me go alone for my prayers.”
“Lazarus, my boy, you know the dangers of walking alone into the woods.”
“So you think Nantes has its woods filled with robbers wielding dead tree stalks for clubs, waiting to attack and rob me of this assigned conscription infirmary tunic? Or maybe they are waiting to rob me of these bandages you have provided? What use would I be to robbers now?”
“So you have a memory of the weapon used against you?”
Yes, he is right. I did have a glimpse of remembering. They had rotted limbs fallen from trees older than that stand of greenwood in which the robbers hid. The fat woman was on a bed and she wanted my relic.
“Doctor, really, I’m safe. I have no treasure or relic.”
“So you do remember the attack. Tell me what of it you recall now.”
I can’t tell him about the fat woman and the relic. Surely he would think my brain is fluff then. “I just remember they were swinging heavy, rotted logs. The two men attacking me were hardly fit with strength enough to wield such woods. Surely they weren’t professional robbers. In fact they seemed silly and weak, needy they were of both weapons and strength. It was odd they would go up against my strength when I hadn’t even any riches. Yet they did. I’m sure I had nothing to rob.”
“If you go alone into the wood, how can I trust you will take care not to climb onto rocks or try to move more quickly than you are able? Perhaps I should keep watch from a distance so you can have your private prayers but with assured safety.”
“You are an excellent doctor. My healing is remarkable. But you have to admit, I’m quite well enough to take myself for a walk in a gentle wood.”
“Very well then. I see I can’t stop you. I will meet you right here before the sun sets.”
“Thank you Doctor.”
(continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 