| I.2.015 |
|
The completed wedding dress was hung with pride in a corner of the Relyt's living room by
the Shopkeeper who had brought it home from the mill. It was a simple garment with few
frills or decorations. Nor was it particularly well made. The buttons down the back were
unmatched and unsuitable and some of the seams were not well made because of the
difficulty of making sewing thread of an adequate strength. Nevertheless it stood for all to
see, the wonder of the town, the affirmation of its life, and that evening and all the next
day many came to see and feel its texture. The next evening the Relyt family plus Iram were gathered about their fire. There was no other light than the flickering of its strong flames. As they had been doing all day they had been discussing the dress and the wedding but had gradually fallen silent, either from tiredness or lack of anything new to say. In the excitement the Shopkeeper had forgotten that he had sent his son to see the Keeper. Now he suddenly remembered and asked 'How did it go, yesterday? Did you identify the object I gave you? Was it anything of importance?' Although he had intended all along to follow the Keeper's instructions Carl said, 'No father. He said it was nothing important. A corkscrew, he called it.' As he said these words he felt a chill or fear and a part of him wondered why he was being so foolish. But another part of him had already decided that this mysterious implement, apparently of value even to the Pastor, was going to be his possession. 'What will you do with it.' 'I will trade it to a metal worker.' 'Good! Be certain to drive a hard bargain. It is good metal. They can melt it down or forge it or something.' The Shopkeeper shifted in his seat so that he was turned away from his wife and towards his son and said loudly 'And what did you think of old Thomas, now that you have met him properly?' The mention of Thomas provoked an immediate reaction from Becky as the Shopkeeper knew it would. 'What a horrible old man he is! I sometimes believe he is the Devil himself.' 'What nonsense, Becky!' The Shopkeeper laughed. 'You shouldn't speak that way. He can't help it if he's still alive.' 'He should be dead', said Becky, firmly. She leaned across and put her hand on Ruth's knee. 'They say the Devil will keep him alive forever to remind us of his terrible power,' she whispered loudly. 'Becky!' Now the Shopkeeper became annoyed. 'You shouldn't say such things to the children, putting ideas into their head!' 'I'm not a child anymore, pa!' said Ruth indignantly. 'How else does he stay alive?' said Becky. 'He can't work. If he can't work he shouldn't eat. What d'you think Martha.' Martha Wilson tired old voice croaked up from the back of the room, full of confidence in her story and in the fact that her listeners were hanging upon every word: 'It's said how years back he took off into the forest with many others in search of the Magic Hoard they heard about and that they found it and took it for themselves. But then he bewitched the others and killed them, every one, so that he could keep the magic jewels for himself.' 'Then why have none of those jewels ever been seen in the town?' said the Shopkeeper angrily. 'I as Shopkeeper would surely have seen them.' 'They are bewitched' replied Martha. 'You cannot tell them for what they are.' 'Oh, what nonsense!' cried the Shopkeeper. 'Thomas is the Keeper of the Catalogues. He is paid by the town to perform that service. It is required by law. That is how he earns his keep!' 'They could have had a younger man by now,' said Becky, becoming angry in her turn. 'He should be dead! He is an insult to us all!' 'He'll die soon! Soon enough! In the meantime, think of him as our souvenir!' The Shopkeeper shouted and jumped up, 'and Carl and I will have to deal with him.' He stalked away to bed. 'Not soon enough for me,' said Becky when he had gone. Then she arose and packed the children off to bed as well. Later she came back again when only Carl was there. She sat in front of the dying fire and was crying quietly when he came and put his arms about her. 'Son,' she said. 'You shouldn't pay attention to us when we speak like that. It's not true at all.' 'But some people went off' said Carl. 'I know that because others have said the same thing to me. They say my father's father was one of them and that's how my father didn't get to be Shopkeeper until my uncle died.' Becky just looked at her son and rubbed his hair, but he was thinking of the corkscrew. A souvenir. Old Thomas was a souvenir. Carl held the corkscrew in his hand. It fit neatly in his palm, preserved for hundreds of years. He didn't give it to the Pastor. |
|
|
