[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.She turned her attention to Ars, and spoke quiet phrases in her mother'sancient tongue.Ars grinned."Few folk know Ma's speech," she said."How did you know I did?""When you greeted me, I heard familiar intonations.""Then I have no fear of speaking truth with you.Well-wishes in the old speechare a magical spell as are all words."From Ars, Pierrette learned of the saltwater tamarisk, the three kinds ofreeds, and the tiny telltale flowers that marked solid places in the deceptivesea of tall grass, the Camargue.She learned also of what she most wanted tohear."Old incantations still have power there," Ars said."Fadrad meh sor." she began."Page 152ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlPenan mo ser," Pierrette continued, then stopped."Is it the same? Does it repel flies andmites?""Anything that stings," Ars replied."You can tell when you're near a salin, when you get bitten.""A salt-drying pond? Why?" Pierrette asked."Are bugs attracted to salt?""I don't know.But I can tell a salin is nearby before I smell it."Pierrette had only to speak the first words of a spell for Ars to chime inwith those that followed.She was delighted; the magical country was all thatshe hoped.Those spells had done nothing in Citharista, yet Ars had used themto good effect."Master ibn Saul said you know old stories," Pierrette remarked."Stories! That's what he calls them.I enjoy his hospitality.I would notspeak ill of him, but.""But?""He's a pragmatist.That's to say, he's blinded by what he believes, and whathe does not.He doesn't believe anything that defies explanation, so he won'tbother writing my `stories' in his books." That, thought Pierrette, was all tothe good.He had "explained" the Wendish rite, and look what happened."Will you tell me a story?" asked Pierrette."What do you want to hear? There are many."Pierrette explained how tales heard from Christian tellers were subtly changedfrom older versions."Iwant a story that Christians tell one way, but that you know differently.""Tell me one you know, and I'll let you know what's wrong with it," said Ars."Very well," Pierrette replied."A hundred years ago, a man named Giles wastouched by God.He gave away all he owned, and departed his native Greece on araft and, like the three Marys, was borne toCamargue's shore.He was dying of thirst, but a hind showed him a hiddenspring of sweet water."Ars was agitated."What is it?" Pierrette asked."No, you go on.I'll have my say when you've finished.It's all wrong, the wayyou tell it."Pierrette continued."A noble hunter shot an arrow at the hind, and Gilessnatched it from the air.The hunter was so impressed with Giles's feat andhis holiness that he commissioned a shrine of stone over the hidden pool."Another tale of Giles," Pierrette said, "recounts how he was given two carveddoors by the Holy Father in Rome.He threw them in the Tiber River, and theyfloated all the way to Camargue, and washed up near his chapel.I think thatstory has been confused with the one about the raft, and with the boat withoutsails that conveyed the apostoli.Only one may be a proper account.I don't know which.""Bah!" said Ars."The tale of the hind is also told about Saint Godfric, inthe North, and the one about the doors is elsewhere attributed to othersaints.Neither is Giles's true tale.""Then tell me what is true," Pierrette urged.* * *When the Wisigoths conquered Arelate, said Ars, Giles, the bishop, would havenothing to do with theArian heretics.He walked westward on the Roman road, then into the tracklessCamargue, and dwelt in a hovel of leaves and branches.He lived on wildberries and drank sweet water from a hidden spring.The thickets were home to tusked sangliers wild boars and roe deer.One evening, as the birds became silent, he heard rustling in the underbrush,and saw two great yellow eyes.Terrified, he hid, sure he had seen afull-grown boar, not a young pig.Ha! The animal that emerged to drink was ashy doe with white stockings."I've gone mad from solitude!" he cried, "toPage 153ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmltake a graceful biche for a sanglier."He had spoken aloud.The frightened doe ran away."Don't go!" he called after,suddenly aware of how lonely he had been but she was gone.Only the calls ofwood owls and the hoots of great round-eyed hiboux filled the night.In the days that followed, Giles got little joy from his solitude.He tried toremember what the deer had looked like.Brown or beige? Skinny or plump? Everynight at dusk he waited quietly behind a tree, hoping to see her.A month passed, and at last he heard the rustle of brush.The doe! He crepthesitantly toward her as she bent to drink.Ah! She was so beautiful.Hertapered legs were white from knee to shiny hoof, and her curved neck bent withthe grace of a windblown vine.Her eyes were so warm Giles could crawl rightin them.The hermit remained still until she had finished drinking, his silence brokenonly by the beating of his lonely heart.At last, the doe departed.Would shecome back?Giles cut tender, fragrant leaves, and left them by the still pool, on therock where the doe had placed her forefeet while she drank.She soon came todrink and feed almost every evening, as the birds' last songs faded.One nightGiles did not lay the fragrant herbs on the stone.When the sweet creature haddrunk, he held out the delicacies, and slowly approached her."Don't fear,little one," he murmured, a man addressing a shy lover.The doe stretched outher neck, and took his offering."From then on," said Ars, "the doe and the old fou had an understanding.Hefed her, and spoke to her as to a friend.She listened, and the regard of hersoft, brown eyes was more welcome than words."Man and doe lived thus, he feeding her, she easing his loneliness, and bothwere content.Neither pondered the doings of men in the lands beyond but thatdid not mean nothing was happening.Wambo, the Wisigoth, and his chiefs and sons, were not content to lounge aboutthe fountains of Arelate, with fawning servants to bring them wine and fruit.They were forest men who loved to hunt with their great, rangy hounds.One morning, the ground beneath Giles's hut trembled with the impact ofhooves.The silence was shredded by howls of the pack and cries of hunters.The hermit's beloved companion fled.The forest resonated with tramping feet,stamping iron-shod hooves, and shouted orders.Giles covered his ears and shuthis eyes [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]