Historical setting: 589 C.E. when Brittany was forest
The village is just ahead. It’s a nestling of thatched round houses common among Celtic people. I’ve seen these also on the Island where Bishop Patrick set his Christian communities. There is a wide swath of these people it seems.
Here I am looking for those hunters assigned by Guldilyn to mentor me in hunting and hopefully to help me find the Vosges Mountains and the Irish Christians. The thief will, no doubt, be looking for loot here in this village to add to his burden. He is already wandering away to meet the women. Wait a minute. Now that may be a perfect synchronicity, the answer to my selfish prayer of how to rid myself of this thief. First I should speak to their druid.
Here he is, still in his ceremonial white robes — like the weasel changing his coat to white for the winter.
“Druid Balfour…”
“So it is you, Ezra! We trusted you, but you ran from your duty. I thought you drowned but Guldilyn said you’re an able swimmer so you meant to run away.”
“I can explain…” And maybe I have a defense because I was brought up in a Jewish home where the marriage bond is sacred; so of course, I’m not of a presence to plant my seed amid the last women of this pagan tribe just to insure its continuation. And yes, “I escaped.” But he has no interest in my explanation. He interrupts my thought.
“We didn’t take you in just to give you hunting lessons. Of course you have a duty to our tribe! We gave you shelter and you gave us, what?”
“I understand. So now I’ve brought you this other man. See him there near the well? He’s already eyeing your women, and he has a whole sledge of treasures, gifts you yourself would give to elves for good luck. He will enrich your tribe. But let this be our secret. You will need to work your magic on him. Guide him in your ways, and surely your fertile daughters will bear lots of beautiful children maybe with his golden curls.”
The druid takes a long moment to ponder, then breaks into a jovial smile, a welcoming grin it is, as he grips my shoulder, and calls forth the hunters. They are instructed to take me on to the Vosges. Thank you, God.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 