12
Understanding
'...His Holiness had turned his attention to other matters: he nursed a lamb in swaddling bands.'
Finishing the bedtime story, Joachim allowed the paperback to close then placed it on the ornate mahogany bedside table beside the lamb. The lamb was fast asleep; and probably had been for most of the story. The rapid movement of its eyes, discernible through lids not quite closed, showed it to be dreaming. Vaguely wondering what lambs dreamed about, Joachim yawned and stretched; it had been a long and tiring - exhausting - day. He switched off the bedside lamp and settled into the enveloping warmth and softness of the fabric-conditioned duvet.
He jumped. Slowly realising that he had fallen asleep, he picked up the fallen book. There were only a few last lines to read: 'He understood the gifts of the Magi. He made to offer the crucifix back to the Dalai Lama but stopped. The lesson given - and received - His Holiness had turned his attention to other matters: he nursed a lamb in swaddling bands.'
Finishing the bedtime story, Joachim closed the stiff covers of the book quietly and placed it on the simple beechwood table beside the lamb. The lamb was fast asleep; and probably had been for most of the story. Its eyes, not quite hidden beneath lids which seemed too small to fit, flickered and fluttered in rapid bursts of unconscious thrill. Joachim yawned and stretched; it had been a long and tiring - exhausting - day. He pinched out the guttering candle and snuggled under the smooth comfort of the starched linen sheets.
He started awake. The cold, dark suspicion of wrongness dissipated as he realised that he had merely fallen asleep whilst writing up the day's events. He picked up the fallen scroll and saw that only one paragraph remained to be written: 'And Joachim looked: He saw the death; He watched the deputation on their long search: He understood the gifts of the Magi. He made to offer the crucifix back to the Dalai Lama but stopped. The lesson given - and received - His Holiness had turned his attention to other matters: he nursed a lamb in swaddling bands.'
Finishing the tale, Joachim wiped the nib of his quill, lidded his inkpot and rolled up the scroll carefully before placing it on the rough oaken chest which stood beside the lamb. The lamb was fast asleep; and probably had been for some time. Beneath slightly open lids, its eyes danced to a tune that only it and the angels could hear. Joachim yawned and stretched; it had been a long and tiring - exhausting - day. He adjusted the smoking wick of the lamp, noting that the little pool of oil in the shallow bowl would last through the night, then shuffled himself down beneath the felted wool blanket.
He woke suddenly. Cold talons of fear gripped his heart. Peripheral phantoms slid abruptly from his vision but refused to leave his presence. They remained, invisible and ineffable, in the dark corners of space and mind: indescribable, nameless demons of the night. An alien memory of strange visions, of an unnatural chanting, washed fleetingly over his consciousness and a voice that might be that of a high chieftain commanded: 'Look! See! Understand!' He dismissed it immediately: such thoughts sent ordinary men mad; only the shaman might risk intercourse with the spirit world.
Near him, the new, untimely lamb twitched in its bed of tired and flattened winter straw. The other animals were quiet, though, and their stillness calmed him: nothing was truly amiss this night. He blew on the embers of the fire, and added a log to ensure that it survived to the morning. A large goose-feather, carried on the rough bark, flared briefly in a black stink. Joachim sighed at the waste of it, then pulled the heavy grey skin around his arthritic shoulders and settled once more into needed sleep. Outside, far away, a lonely she-wolf sat atop a high rock and howled for her lost mate.
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This is one of the Tales of Joachim |
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Ink Amera |
(C) David 1/9/2007 |
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