Historical Setting: Jarrow, 794 C.E.
The ealdorman’s assigned house, (or “castle” if you are a pauper and have never been in a simple cottage) was purged of the fellow who had been appointed to this seat. The log book he kept for the king was taken away as evidence against him, along with all his personal belongings — all loaded onto a wagon and gone now.
There is a tattered broom left in a webby corner, so I sweep out the floor of cob webs. What else was left here was more dust and dirt, table, chair, oil lamp and straw tick for a sleeping mat. First thing, before nightfall I shake out that linen tick and acquire some fresh straw from the public stable. The stable hand also lends me a rag for wiping down the near empty book shelves, and he offers advice.
“When your work is as mine, dealing with the public, you have two masters: the king who owns the building, and the strangers and villagers who come to you. Do as the villagers say because they come with food and the gifts. The king just demands things from you.”
“Thank you.”
Listening to that, I can understand how it is complicated serving two earthly masters. For me, I serve only one master who is God. It would all be so simple if I wasn’t famished and didn’t just now find the baker bringing a fresh loaf of bread, then asking if he might come tomorrow to speak with me about his complaint against a neighbor. I find I am enjoying the bread, though maybe it was a bribe.
The bread is so fresh and soft the fragrance of yeasty warmth fills the house and overtakes the rancid of the old dweller who was here once. When the baker comes for the basket first thing tomorrow, the bread will be gone and I will be completely at the mercy of hearing his side.
On this new morning, the baker is at my door again and I return the basket he brought, empty now. But I tell him I will need to listen to his complaint with his neighbor later, because this morning I have to go to the monastery for supplies of parchment and prepare the inks and quill to begin this work. He says I really need to know who his neighbor is. He will be back.
Dear God. I intend to judge fairly. Enable me to see beyond the tastiness of the loaf. Amen.
(Continues Wednesday, April 1, 2026)
Lazarus Ink 