Studies

His legs hung off the back of the cart as it moved down the dusty road towards Whithorn. The pace of the ride was slow, the only option he had found for travel in Wigtown was a wheat farmer, taking his harvest to Whithorn. His old and lame horse seemed to struggle to pull the heavily laden cart. Richard probably wasn't helping his load either, especially since he had three heavily laden bags.

At least the journey was almost over, he had traveled all the way from St. Andrews, in Fife. He leaned back against the pile of wheat, contemplating the job he had been offered. It was somewhat unusually and he was still doubting whether he was smart for accepting it. After all what did a grown man need with a tutor? Highly unusual, but the pay offered was too tempting to turn down. Plus his patron had offered to take him along wherever he may travel. That was probably the most tantalizing part of the offer, for with his station in life, travel wasn't something he did often.

Before he knew it, the cart had pull up into the town. It was quiet, not many people out. It was still mid-afternoon and he assumed they must still be in the fields. The driver didn't bother to help him with his bags, so he took them down one by one and carefully stacked them one on top the other before adjusting his robes. He squinted his eyes in the late day sun, in an attempt to spot the inn, his patron had told him he would be waiting for him there . . .

Lance had decided to take the day off in anticipation of the monk’s arrival. Instead of working he had contented himself with lazing around outside The Whistle & Thistle, sipping whiskey and making small talk with whoever happened to stop by. It was true he would be traveling soon and that’s why he had sent for Richard from St. Andrews.

Anyone could tell you that Lance loved to argue and debate any and all issues. That had been the foundation that his political and heraldic careers had sprung from. He knew that wherever he travel there would always be imbeciles to argue with and occasionally a few good people with which to have constructive discourse. However, there was a desire to have someone very intelligent come with him, to muse over any number of complex political, religious, and philosophical questions.

Intensely curious and questioning by nature, Lance had found that questions and ideas that were intriguing to him were often more of a nuisance to other people. There was something about knowledge and just sitting quietly and thinking that appealed to him. He credited his even-keeled temper to that part of his personality. In the end he decided to seek out someone that could serve as both an advisor and honestly, just someone that could entertain his need for someone else to talk religion and philosophy with.

That person happened to be Richard Cornwell, monk and teacher at St. Andrews University. He had written all of the Universities, as well as many of the larger monasteries, asking Priors and Rectors, who would be a suitable candidate for such a job. The benefits of Lance's station in life, meant that money wasn’t a problem and paying more then giving the man food, shelter, and travel was more then generous on his part. Richard had come highly recommended and he could tell just by his correspondence with him that they held . . . different views on a lot of issues. It was those differences that would lead to good discussion, he thought.

Nevertheless, he had been waiting all day for Richard to arrive. Finally, he saw a small cart, letting off a robed man, who was carrying more bags then a monk ought to have. Feeling this was probably Richard, he moved across the square to greet him. A little haughty for a simple monk to have so much luggage, isn’t it? He asked teasingly in an attempt to break the ice. I assume by your robes and by the fact you look completely lost, you must be Richard . . . I am Lance, your new patron. Come, lets go have a drink in the tavern across the way, you can tell me a little more about yourself there.

With that he lead on towards the tavern, inquiring more about the man he had just hired.

As he continued looking around the town, trying to get oriented he noticed a man walking across the square towards him. He wasn't very finely dressed, and looked more like a shop-keeper then someone wealthy. Still the air of familiarity the man spoke with gave away his identity.

"A little haughty for a simple monk to have so much luggage, isn’t it? "

He was a little taken back by this man's bluntness. I keep few possession myself M'lord, these are mainly texts and manuscripts, he said as he placed a protective hand on the stack of luggage. He was feeling incredibly uneasy about this meeting. Hearing the rest of what Lance had to say he gave a shallow bow. Yes, I am Richard Cornwell, lately of St. Andrews University. Hesitating momentarily he added, And I don't drink Sir, I have taken vows to remain sober and not over indulge myself. If it is your wish, though, I will accompany you to the tavern.

Taking out a sealed letter from his robes he added, This is a letter from the Rector of St. Andrews, with my credentials. He then picked up two of the trunks and prepared to head to the tavern. If you don't mind my asking M'lord, I'm still very unclear about what my duties are to be. I don't mean any offense but surely a man of your age does not need a teacher or tutor.
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And I don't drink Sir, I have taken vows to remain sober and not over indulge myself. If it is your wish, though, I will accompany you to the tavern.

He nodded, though he was was used to even most holy men in Scotland drinking their fair share. Lance took the letter Richard offered him and stuffed it in his pocket. I am well aware of your accomplishments and areas of expertise from your time at St. Andrews.

Moving over to pick up the last of the trunks, he continued . . . Well no harm in sitting around while I have a few drinks then. If you're going to be traveling about with me, might as well get to know each other. I'll explain more once we're inside.

He lead Richard across the square to the Whistle & Thistle and headed inside. Finding an empty table in the corner, he dropped the trunk he had been carrying and motioned for Richard to sit down. Motioning first to the bartender for a shot, he turned back to the monk, who still looked a little out of sorts.

Well, lets get down to business then. I hired you to travel around with me and give me someone to discuss religion and philosophy with. The Rector at St. Andrews gave you a good report. You've studied Aristotle, Plato, Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas, and the list goes on and on. He paused for a minute as the bartender arrived with his drink.

Taking a sip, he studies Richard for a moment. Your humility does not do you credit, you might be one of the best educated men in Scotland. I am not, Richard. I know how to run a distillery, how to manage a county, how to wage war . . . but I often dwell on deeper issues, issues I can't learn just from practice, I need a teacher.

He could tell Richard was a bit uncomfortable at being given such praise. The Rector also told me that though you are a man of the cloth, you do sympathize with some of the ancient views as well. He could see Richard getting agitated more as he continued . . . I have such questions and doubts, will you help me?

His patron seemed excessively informal for a man of his rank. Years at the monastery, then teaching at the University had instilled a rigidity and respect in his life. There was a clear line of authority in the world and Richard respected them. There was Jah, then the Pope, then the Cardinals, then the general clergy, then the peasants at the bottom. There was a King, and his subjects were to obey him faithfully. Equality does not exist in the world, some people are born to rule, others are born to obey. A Baron, should not treat a simple monk and teacher as an equal.

He thought all this as he followed Lance to the tavern, nodding politely to his comments. The idea of sitting in a tavern, while his patron drank himself away wasn't appealing to him, but he was curious to hear more about his new job. Entering, he saw a few people already drunk and it couldn't be far past noon. He gave a silent prayer for these poor farmers and tradesmen of Whithorn as he took a seat across from Lance.

May I just have a cup of water? He half asked, half ordered from the bartender as they came by. He listened intently as Lance began to speak, nodding in affirmation after the name of each man's work he had studied.

You might be one of the best educated men in Scotland

He instinctively averted his ayes at this praise. You give me too much credit M'lord. The scope of my knowledge is rather limited to what I could get my hands on in the Priory and then the University. Not really knowing how to handle the situation he paused for a moment before continuing, I am sure you did not get ahead in the world off brute strength either. In most ways I'd even say your practical knowledge is better to have then whatever I could teach you.

The bartender brought back his drink as he heard the last of what Lance had to say. His mention of his interest in the classical philosophers over the contemporary church ones, made him feel even more uncomfortable. There are always doubts and questions, I will tell you, books and ideologies will not change that for you. If anything it will make them worse. I tell you now there is only one way to assuage those feelings and that is deep penitence to Jah, not philosophy. A thinking man is seldom a happy one, my bishop used to say. Feeling a little on edge, he took a gulp of his water and looked down at the table; not wanting to make eye contact with his master.
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He leaned back in his chair, continuing to sip his whiskey, as Richard began to preach at him. Richard was clearly either very passionate about this issue, or was just ashamed of his own feelings on the matter. It would be out of place for a man of the cloth to have an interest in knowledge that might be contrary to Jah.

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There are always doubts and questions, I will tell you, books and ideologies will not change that for you. If anything it will make them worse. I tell you now there is only one way to assuage those feelings and that is deep penitence to Jah, not philosophy. A thinking man is seldom a happy one, my bishop used to say.

The monk was obviously out of his element. Lance decided not to aggravate the situation too much more. After all it was only the first day of them working together. Pounding back the rest of his whiskey he responded . . . For a long time now I have doubted Jah, I am not afraid to admit it openly. If it was right, it would feel right. The issue is simple, I have the money and opportunity you want. You have a knowledge of philosophy and religion that I want. Surely you must have had some inclination that this is what I wanted, and yet you still decided to accept my offer.

He stood up and threw a couple coins down on the table. Here, enough for either lodging and lodging tonight or a carriage back to St. Andrews. I'll be back here tomorrow at noon to begin. If you're not here, there will be no ill will, you are free to come and go as you please. But if you stay, we will be exploring issues other then Jah, so make peace with yourself.

Giving one final nod, he walked out of the inn, leaving Richard alone to ponder his decision.

Lance spoke down to him with a slightly discernible tone of anger. Despite this man's personable nature, he obviously was still used to getting his way most of the time. In an odd sort of way Richard now felt more at ease. The familiar relationship between a patron and his hired help was back in place. As he continued though, he only listened and nodded. Then he heard the final ultimatum provided to him . . .

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Here, enough for either lodging and lodging tonight or a carriage back to St. Andrews. I'll be back here tomorrow at noon to begin. If you're not here, there will be no ill will, you are free to come and go as you please. But if you stay, we will be exploring issues other then Jah, so make peace with yourself.

His patron had abruptly left after saying that bit, leaving only a few coins on the table. He humbly picked them up, examining the sum before putting them in the pouch that hung around his neck. It was true, he himself had doubts about what was "right" and "wrong" in the universe, but it wasn't for him to question, outside of his curiosity. He hated that aspect of himself, wishing he could just happily accept what he was told as fact. Still, he had a decision to make.

Sitting there for a while he pondered the issue, while finishing his water. Putting the glass down he went up to the bartender and spoke in whispers with him. Afterwords, he turned and left the tavern.
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He had slept comfortably that night in the small house he was renting in Whithorn. With a feeling of freedom he made his way down to the proprietor's office and canceled his lease. There was no further reason to stay in Whithorn. His dread had been lifted from him and he would make his way north to Glasgow to meet some old friends and learn what we could.

First though, he had to go see if Richard had decided to stay on. Making his way one last time across the square to the Whistle & Thistle, he entered optimistically. His optimism was rewarded, there was Richard, sitting as uncomfortably as ever. He gave the monk a friendly slap on the back as he approached him.

Well, well, look who's still here. A very fine choice, if I say so myself. No one can resist travel and research, it is the life blood of every educated man. So, get your trunks, I've already ordered a carriage for us. We will be making a brief stop in Drummore before heading north. He moved other to pick up one of the book-laden trunks. Come on now, the coach will be waiting by now.

He exited the building, Richard in tow and left the trunks for the coachman to deal with. Taking a seat in the coach, he waited for Richard to follow suit. Once settled he knocked on the side of the carriage, letting the coachman know he was ready to go. Well then Richard, we have at least two days ride ahead of us. So let us get to the first topic I've devised for our debate. Tell me your thoughts on the human spirit. Do we have one in a permanent sense? Or is that too just some invention of the human mind.

He had his own thoughts on the matter, but wanted to hear Richard's take on it first. Looking outside as the town passing by them, he awaited a response . . . .

Robert was always surprised by the abruptness and appearing randomness of everything his patron did.

Tell me your thoughts on the human spirit. Do we have one in a permanent sense? Or is that too just some invention of the human mind.

He stared a little blankly across the carriage at Lance. Who asks that kind of question, first off so early in the morning, and secondly just as a point of conversations? True, he was brought here to apparently debate issues at with his patron, but still, it felt like there should be a bit more formality to such studies.

How had he agreed to do this? The entirety of last night had been spent wondering what to do with the purse Lance had presented him. In the end he had found himself back down in the tavern, waiting to go on whatever strange journey he was about to embark on. Ten minutes later he was here, sitting in a carriage, heading to another town. His thoughts were drifting again though, and he caught an inquisitive stare from Lance.

Um, well, it is not really that simple of an issue. It is not necessarily, either this or that. My old prior used to say that "it is the innermost aspect of humans, that which is of greatest value in them, that by which they are most especially in Jah's image." It is part of Jah inside us, that is eternal. Our soul holds the sum of our life and will, in the end be judged by Jah. It is also not such a simple thing, it requires constant maintenance on behalf of the individual. You must practice repentance daily to keep your soul clean, to make it a worthy vessel of Jah.

I would say there is nothing more important in this world or the next, other then your soul and you would do wise to treat is as such, he finished, sounding unintentionally critical. Looking out the window briefly, he spoke once more, How often do you pray for your soul?
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He listened intently to Richard's words as they traveled on. Even Lance admitted he wasn't sure of his own thoughts on the issue. They had ample time to discuss it though on the ride to Drummore, then to Kirkcudbright. Richard seemed to be easing up to his presence and even more outspoken.

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it is the innermost aspect of humans, that which is of greatest value in them, that by which they are most especially in Jah's image

That statement in particular he had mused over throughout the journey. Now, back at Mochrum, he broached the subject again with Richard. I was thinking about what you said about the soul. I admit my own ignorance in the matter. There is definitely something inside us, something that gives us that spark of life in the first place. But to call that a soul, I am not too sure. It almost seems like a construct of the mind, to explain the inexplicable. You claim it is "that which is of greatest value in them" and I believe you must be referring to a moral compass of sorts.

He paused for a moment, not sure he had the right words or intelligence to explain his thoughts clearly. What I have seen in my travels is that morals are very relative. You and the church claim that there is a definitive "right" and "wrong", but reality around me contradicts that. Is it really wrong to kill an unjust lord? Is the beggar condemned to the abyss for stealing a loaf of bread for his family? I cannot reconcile that in my mind . . . that absolutes exist in this world. If they do not exist, and morality is subjective, how can the soul be most in the image of Jah?

Leaving the questions open for Richard to explain more, he went over the words he had just said in his mind. Wondering if they would make sense and whether there really was a good answer to them.

Of all things, he had found Mochrum to be a wonderful place. For all of Lance's . . . faults, he at least had an interest in learning. Though rare, he had accumulated a fair share of books, which Richard has naturally added his own too. Now in Kirk he had found others, like Robert on the estate that he could at least relate too. Even Lance's cousin, Nicolette, seemed a little less brash then his master.

Deeply involved in a work of Plato, he was interrupted by Lance one day.

You claim it is "that which is of greatest value in them" and I believe you must be referring to a moral compass of sorts.

He pondered that last statement for a moment. Yes, Jah is the judge of right and wrong and tuning our soul to such wishes, we are closest to him. You can call it morals, but as you say, morality can be subjective. My own experience in life has shown that humans are terrible creatures. We are capable of great evil, when left unchecked. I believe we can only have order in society, when there is someone dictating our actions. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing . . .

There is clear order in life and all of society is dependent on it. The lowly farmer that works your fields is directly responsible to his overseer. It does not matter what he thinks is "right" or "better", he follows the orders of his overseer. It doesn't matter who is "right" or "wrong" in the situation . . . surely you have heard the saying, too many cooks spoil the soup. Richard felt he was explaining this poorly. There seemed to be two dichotomies to human nature, those that believe order is the key to progress, then those that believe complete freedom is the key to success.

Well . . . what happens if the peasants challenges his overseer? Instead of plowing the field they waste time arguing what the best way to plow the field is. In the end, what does that accomplish? It is more important and beneficial for the peasant to obey his overseer unconditionally to get the field plowed. It goes on and on up the ladder as well . . . the overseer follows the order of the Manor Lord. The Manor Lord follows the command of the local Baron, and the Baron follows the command of the King.

All are subject to the will of Jah, though. If you have a bad overseer or Lord, naturally, Jah will punish them fittingly. It is not your place to punish them. The King, like all others is dictated to by Jah . . . you do not question what is "right" or "wrong", they are absolutes to be followed without question. In the end Jah determines everyone's fate. You are a Baron for a reason master, and the peasants that work your fields, are peasants for a reason. Trying to upset that order is going against the wish of Jah. Just like stealing, under any circumstance is going against Jah. The justification for your actions is unimportant, the rules are set in place by those above us, and Jah is above us all. Even if you do not fully understand the reasoning, the tenants of our religion were made by someone much wiser then us and with the best intents of mankind in mind.

Even a couple weeks ago he would not have debated this long with his master. Now though . . . there was a certain comfort level between the two men. If nothing else, he was determined to draw his master back to the flock. He was in essence a good man, though the democratic set up of the Counties, might have put strange ideas into his head.
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Richard laid out his arguments well, he'd give him that. Never before had he actually been able to sit down with a member of the clergy (or anyone else for that matter). It was good to have someone that thought as deeply as he did about issue. Issues perhaps others thought frivolous, he had always been a politician first and foremost, only a few . . . maybe no one, knew his inner thoughts.

So, if right and wrong are absolutes, is there no room for opinion in the world? He paused for a minute before continuing on, attempting to apply it to something in his life. I recently had an argument with someone in Galloway. They preached that there were no absolutes, that compromising personal morals is the only way to resolve conflicts. In that regard I can agree with your thoughts on absolutes. When you have your set of beliefs, you should not change them, just to assuage others. When you start doing that, you lose that little bit of you, that makes you an individual.

But you also say that we should all have the same opinions, stemming from Jah. How do those two points live in harmony? I believe we each create our own principles, that there is no definite in life . . . as you claim. Am I to sacrifice, what I think is right for the sake of Jah or any other individual? Isn't that the very definition of weakness?

He moved over to the bookshelf in the room, distracting himself as he read some of the titles. He had gone off topic, but there were issues bothering him in life. For his entire life he had stuck to his own principles, whether people completely agreed with him or not. On the whole though, he had been rather successful with his approach, this would be his sixth term on Council. He had been Duke twice, and at least in his mind, he had done a good job. People seemed to have his back and his family life was much improved, from where it was when he had broken down in February.

I suppose the words of a few people shouldn't bother you . . . he spoke more to himself then to Richard. I read a passage from Pompeii once, something I have thought often on. "How happy, to be a slave, to have no will, make no decisions . . . driftwood. How very restful it must be." He turned to Richard, with unintended condescending . . . Is it Richard? He thought back to the simple days, where he had tended his own fields and done nothing but drink with friends in the tavern. Often the thought crossed his mind . . . was he happier then, or now? He still wasn't sure. I guess it's the price we all pay, he stated as he turned back to the bookshelf.

I will stick to my principles then and let Jah take care of others. I do not understand absolutes though . . . but I want to. Richard, I think I will ask Flaith to baptize me. I am so tired, so very tired Richard. These internal struggles are overpowering, I hid them best I can from the public, but I feel myself falling again, as I did many months ago. He turned back to Richard, eyes watery, though no tear escaped, I am in my own hell now . . . I need help.

He listened to Lance for a while, wanting to jump in and debates the points presented. But the conversation continued to take a turn towards depression. Granted he hadn't been at this service long and really didn't know him all that well. Still it seemed uncharacteristic of his nature. The usual boisterous and outgoing behavior, replaced with regret and stress. Perhaps it was all just a veil. He had heard one of the monks say before that when you serve the people, you lose your own life. You become a shell of what you were, your own needs and wants go unanswered in the tireless tasks presented to you.

Lance finished what he was saying, the last line particularly stuck on Richard's mind. There was an awkward silence in the study, Lance still staring at him, seemingly hopeless and he, himself, not really knowing what to say. He started off easy, addressing some of the philosophical points. I don't have all the answers, I never promised that when I came here. You are right, your principles should never be sacrificed. He paused once again, Jah is gracious, he gave us one thing that he gave no other living being on earth. We have free will, and the intelligence to use it for either good or evil. Yes, Jah dictates principles to us, but it is up to you to follow them. In the end, the choice is yours and if your principles are not in line with Jah, that is ultimately your own choice.

How happy to be a slave? he would have laughed in any other situation. You think the decisions I make on a daily basis are any easier then yours? We all struggle in our own way, to stay true to ourselves and Jah. I can never possibly understand the pressure that someone like yourself might feel. But I have struggles of my own, even simple monks have wants and desires that need to be surpressed for the greater good of society. Just as you try to set an example, I am an example of what spiritual life is supposed to be. The world depends on people like me for guidance, isn't that the very reason you brought me here?

The news of his want to be baptized was very welcome news, but also exceedingly odd for a man such as Lance. While that would be a great event for you, do not do it out of desperation, or because you think it will solve all your problems. He suddenly became more stern, perhaps trying to talk some sense into his master. Look at yourself, do you really think you are fit at this moment to accept Jah into your life. How can an unclean vessel hold something so holy? You must be at a place in your life where you want to accept Jah for his benefit, not yours. Though your zeal is admirable, I believe this is self serving.

Standing up, he softened his tone a little. Let us sort you out first, before rash decisions, that you might come to later regret. Sit, let us talk some more on this . . .
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I don't have all the answers, I never promised that when I came here.

He was growing calmer as Richard continued speaking. Lance was prone to moments of breakdown, though others rarely saw them. For all his public life, he was sure he could count on one hand the number of people that knew of his inner struggles. His private life . . . was just that to him. Aye, he spoke after a long pause, I suppose we are all meant to be examples in our own way. How to live our lives, or how not to . . I guess there is no way to truly know how people would view your actions, until after the fact . . .

With a heavy sigh, he allowed himself to slip into the nearest chair in the study. If Jah is the only person truly worthy to judge our actions, why do I worry so much? He asked it more rhetorically, but hashing his beliefs out was always easier with someone else to at least listen impartially. All my days grow long though Richard, I am more tired then anyone could imagine. I have always relied on my own inner strength, for most everyone else you lean upon lets you down at some point. Using that I have reached quite possibly the pinnacle of everything I could achieve. Now, it's a daily struggle to just maintain it all . . . I honesty can't remember anymore if I was happier when I first arrived in Kirk, or if I am happier now, after all my success . . . he trailed off in contemplation.

Perhaps I brought you here in an attempt to find something else to lend me strength, to prolong my own time in this world. I almost crave finality though, it must be nice to finish when you die, he spoke more matter of fact then one who actually wished for his own death. Still it was something which had run through his mind more then once, during the past months. He turned back to Richard, feeling he had droned on enough on a tangent.

Maybe it was rash to suggest joining the Church in such a state. I am prone to act abruptly when I am feeling particularly low. I know that's why I brought you here, even in Galloway there are few I would confide in, or speak freely too. I must have too much politic in me. Sitting forward in his chair, more focused . . . I often feel like my whole life is just a dream, as if it's something I haven't got control over anymore. I'm not even sure I could tell what reality is now if I wanted to. He chucked a bit, Maybe we're all just a part of a collective hallucination, maybe green is actually blue. There are so many place and people I've never met. Does Glasgow really exist, is there a Duke of Sussex . . . or am I just driving myself mad with thought . . .

Suddenly he sat up, Meet me in courtyard in half an hour.

Richard just nodded as Lance continued speaking. The man seemed to be suffering deeply from things, he himself, would probably never understand. His realm was that of learning and religion. It seemed as if Lance was loosing faith, but on the other hand, he wasn't even sure what he had faith in in the first place, it most certainty wasn't Jah. What then? He pondered, almost tuning out the last part of his master's speech. What did this man, who had accomplished so much, have faith in? What drove him to accomplish what he had? What gave him the strength to continue on? Was it the people of Galloway? His family, his friends? Was it a childish fascination with how the world worked? An internal fire in his heart that always pushed him higher?

Honestly, he had no words of comfort for the man. Even after the months spent together, Richard wasn't entirely sure even he had gotten a brief glimpse into the man's soul. He could easily understand why this man lived alone and spent hours secluded in his office. When he did decide to make public appearances, he noticed he could be the life of the party, but that was often short lived. Maybe like a fire that burns low after blazing so boldly, whatever internal flame and desire Lance had once had were fading. Like a meteor that streaks brightly across the sky for a few brief seconds, before finally dwindling. Ambition in life can only drive someone so far, that is why he often suppressed his own pride and ambition, unless it was for the will of Jah. Such things were always self consuming in the end . . .

Meet me in courtyard in half an hour.

He was shocked back from his musing. Of course, was all he could say, not really knowing what Lance had said prior to that. Getting up from his chair, I shall take my leave then, Lord Dunbar. He took in the strange look on his master's face, it looked oddly excited, like someone that had just gotten a brief stroke of genius. Richard had become used to his randomness, so didn't pay Lance's odd demeanor much though and with a slight nod of his head, he exited to prepare himself.
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Standing there, he made a slight motion of acknowledgment as Richard left the room. He was alone again, always his greatest source of solace. Moving his hand up slowly to the pouch that was always hidden around his neck, he knew he had no intention of leaving. He bent over his desk, taking up the decanter of whisky, which he kept in every room in his estate. Pouring himself a generous drink, he removed the pouch from his neck. The words of his cousin, Severin, ran through his head . . . "Mind you don't use more then a pinch". Lance knew well why, but circumstances often dictated irrational thoughts. Emptying the entirety of the pouch into his cup, he mixed it around with his finger, watching as the powder was consumed by the amber liquid. With a tilt of his head, he downed the entirety of the drink, with one massive swig. The burning sensation rolled down his throat . . . Yes, this is real.

He knew he didn't have much time, he moved a chair over to the large window at the end of the study. It overlooked the fields of Mochrum and the small hill, where his family was buried. It was all so peaceful, he could see small groups of laborers making the final harvests of the season, their bodies wrapped up to escape the biting cold of late autumn. Sinking into the large armchair he felt his entire body relaxing. It was actually comforting . . . No, this is not so bad, he reassured himself.

His mind wandered to those few people he loved most. Robert would take this hard, he had been like a father to him, always guiding his actions with elderly words of wisdom. The Dunbars and Campbells, some of which he was closer to then others. He had always been a source of constancy for both. Briefly the all familiar guilt that plagued his mind, overran him . . . it was too late now. They would go on without him, like all other things in life. Galloway would be fine and all the people he had been so reluctant to leave at one point . . . ebb and flow, ebb and flow.

He could feel his breathing slow, taking deep breaths seemingly minutes apart. Then he mind wandered to his remaining sister, Nici. He hoped that she wouldn't be the one to find him. She had deserved more from a brother and protector, he had failed, much as he had done with the rest of his family. They had all had hard lives and this was a burden he didn't want to put on anyone else. Selfish some would call it, but he had never done a selfish act in his life, everyone else had always come first, for once now, he was doing for himself.

The desire to sleep was overwhelming. Finality and peace, seemed to be what he had been yearning for for so many months. He had tried looking for it in dozens of places . . . family, politics, drinking, women, solitude . . . no where had he found peace and happiness. But here, at the end of it all, as he fought to keep his eyelids open, he felt restful. The reward for a long life of service, loneliness and rest. He dreamed about green fields and roaring streams, a small cottage secluded in the woods, an idealistic view of a place he would want to spend the rest of his days. That place didn't exist though, except in his dreams, he no longer had the hope or desire to seek that place on earth. The world is an ugly place and his strength had been sapped by all his exertions over the past two years. He knew there was no going back to a time where the world had seemed innocent, never again could he be a simple farmer, a simple citizen.

A tear ran down his face, regret and guilt trying to get one last good jab in on him. He closed his eyes, no longer fighting it, his breathing almost non-existent. With his last thoughts he pondered on how this must be how it is for everyone that takes this journey, high or low, rich or poor . . . it's always peaceful at the end . . . this is the great equalizer and I will not fear what so many before me have gone through. With a last utterance he lets two words escape his lips . . . Ne Obliviscaris . . . and then nothing . . .

Richard had retreated from the studying, going to the small chamber he occupied. It was furnished just as you would imagine a monk's chambers to be. It had a small bed and a wardrobe for what few clothes he had. Books were strewn here or there around the room and the few holy icons he possessed were displayed in various areas. He didn't really have riding or travel attire, he actually wasn't sure why Lance had sent him away, unless he wanted time to prepare himself. He thought the whole series of events odd, the long discussion, the abrupt end, then a journey. Actually maybe that was how most things in life ended. But before his musings got the better of him he headed out towards the courtyard. He was early, but better to be there when his master arrived, then to keep him waiting.

It was a nice day out, a little chilly, but not uncommon for late November. A flock of birds few overhead and he watched them briefly fly over the southern wall of the estate. Waiting is very boring, even for someone of the religious path that is used to it. Though Richard couldn't be sure of how much time had passed, he knew it had to be at least half an hour. The study didn't face out onto the courtyard so he couldn't even inquire about what might be taking Lance so long, Probably got tied up in Council work, he mumbled to himself as he continued waiting.

But still, Lance did not come, there was no cause for alarm, as Lance was as slow as they come. Always sidetracked, always another project to get a few minutes work in on. Those minutes usually turned into hours though, maybe he had just told Richard to meet him outside so he could have some peace and quiet. There was no putting anything past his master. Eventually though, he reached the brink of his impatience. Reentering the main hall he happened upon Robert, the faithful keeper of the house. He inquired upon whether or not he had seen Lance coming down at all. He was met with a negative answer. Sighing, he climbed the staircase back up to the study, to see what had sidetracked Lance this time.

He gave a brief knock on the door, before unceremoniously entering, he no longer followed many of the formalities between commoners and nobles. He was met by an unusual sight, Lance apparently sleeping in a chair he had moved over to the large window that faced out over the fields of Mochrum. This too, was not overly rare to witness and he moved first over to the desk as he decided whether he should try and wake him from his slumber. A feeling of unease came over Richard at that moment, he saw an unfamiliar pouch laying on the desk, completely emptied of its contents, right next to the still open decanter of whisky. He picked up the pouch curiously, there were still some remnants of powder on it. Taking a whiff, the smell was unfamiliar, if not a bit pungent. Putting two and two together he realized this must be something to help his master sleep or relax, perhaps he had taken too much and fallen asleep.

In a move of daring he gave Lance a bit of a nudge, expecting some grumble of "get away" or "later" . . . but there was nothing. Something wasn't right, the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on edge. He prodded his master harder, still nothing, no movement, no sign of life. In fact he was oddly cold, moving around to face him proper, he could see a contented look on Lance's face, but it didn't react to anything Richard did to wake him. Lord Dunbar! he yelled as he shook him, attempting to make him conscious again. Panic began to set in, it didn't take much thought to realize what must have happened. No time to dwell on the reasons though, he wasn't sure how long he had been like this. Quickly he checked for a heartbeat or breathing and came up empty again. Stumbling he ran out of the room, half afraid of what he was viewing, half wanting to get help. Robert was still in the main hall and he urgently rushed to him. Robert, quickly, something's happened to the Lord! he yelled as he ran back up the steps, Robert in tow.

Quickly now, lets get him out of here, he commanded Robert as he slipped his own arms under Lance's to hoist him up. Robert grabbed his legs and they quickly moved him out of the study and into his bed chamber. There were still no signs of life and Robert seemed even more petrified then himself. Go, send someone to town, get some water, I'll see what I can do here. He raked his mind for anything he knew about medicine, which wasn't much. His panic increased, he had no idea what to do, he didn't want to get Lady Nicolette feeling she didn't need to see this. In desperation he began shaking Lance harder, beating his hand against his chest, as if a heartbeat might magically appear. Come on! he roared as he tried everything he could. Then finally a sign, a shallow breath and his master's eyes flickered open for a minute.

Robert reappeared and he instructed him, they continued shaking Lance, which to anyone outside might have looked like a vicious attack. But he was breathing again, We need to keep him awake, don't let his eyes close again, he finished, seeing dazed eyes again as Lance briefly opened them. They continued on in this fashion, shaking, pressing, and hitting their master an untold amount of time but it was slowly working and he was beginning to show signs of longer consciousness . . .
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Richard heard as Robert entered the room again, turning to him as he spoke.

I don't think we should just leave her to wander the house

Alright then, are you sure you’re going to be fine? He asked mostly rhetorically. Nodding his head he headed down the steps not waiting for a response. Lance was looking a lot better, a while ago he would have hesitated to leave his side. True, he had never heard of Lady Physax, though from Robert’s words Lance thought highly of her.

As he rounded the last step he beheld the woman. She looked quite plain for a Lady, which wasn’t an insult by any means to him. Some need titles, jewels, and fancy clothing to stand out, others need only their mind and personality. He approached her with an odd air of familiarity, as if they were from the same social class. Lady Physax, it is a pleasure to meet you, he bowed, taking her hand, trying to hide whatever worry he had in him. He hoped his own simplicity and straight forwardness would be familiar to her as well.

I am sure Robert already told you that Lance is indisposed at the moment. I am sure you know how he can be: work, work, work, he gave her a pleasant smile. Looking at her now, he wanted to tell her what had happened and honestly he intended too. But, he needed a better way to break the news. So tell me, what occurrence leads to us enjoying your company today? He hesitated for a minute . . . If you wish to see Lance, I can take you up to him, though I warn you, he’s not feeling very well.
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Brief flickers of light came into his eyes, shapeless form that were there for a brief second, then darkness again. No thoughts crossed his mind, just brightness, then darkness. Over and over for longer then he could comprehend. In time though, the periods of light crew longer, he could move his eyes to take more in. It didn't last long though and his eyes always closed at the end, plunging him back into dark. But he could hear now, a few people bustling around, no discernible words.

He felt pain in his chest, and blows being landed on him, but he could definitely feel. In stark contrast to his last memories, the signs of life were encouraging to him. His eyes still closed, he focused all his energy on his right arm, slowly moving it up, he felt a man's arm, the hits stopped suddenly. More murmuring, this time louder and the bustling around the room increased. Letting his arm drop in exhaustion he fell back into a half-sleep . . . his senses working, but it was some time before he could manage to open his eyes again.

This time shapes were more visible, he could make out Robert by his side. Always faithful Robert, he thought as he laid there, still mostly immobilized. For a long time he lay there, as more and more of his senses came back to him. He could keep his eyes open now, taking in more of the room, he realized he was in his bed. R . . . Robert . . . what . . . was all he could utter before exhaustion overwhelmed him once more.

Then again, he came too, stronger this time. He moved his hand up to grab Roberts. Why am I here? There seemed to be large gaps in his memory, a lot of black. It felt like he had been asleep for days, weeks even. Moving his head about he scanned the room again . . . Where is Richard? That was the last person he could remember seeing. And my sister? I she alright? He strained his head up to look at Robert, helpless, sad, looking for answers.

Taking the lady's hand he shook it delicately before releasing. You'll have to excuse me for my formalities, Lady Physax, I'm afraid not everyone has the same open mindedness that I seem to find among the citizens of Galloway. I am Richard Cornwell, he could notice inquisitiveness in the woman's eyes and he knew he wasn't much for small talk, but anything to take some of the focus of what had recently happened. I was formerly a teacher at St. Andrews, before I was hired by Lord Dunbar. I suppose, you could call me tutor of sorts now to Lance.

Turning, he moved over towards the large table in the hall, motioning for the lady to follow him. I am afraid you've caught the house at a bad moment. Besides the one party we had here, I don't believe I've seen another person visit that wasn't family. Though, Lance is usually off in Dumfries for Council or elsewhere himself, so it's not that surprising. He had asked before, but he decided to ask again, though he believed that Physax might not know exactly why she was here either. If his master was any indication of the customs and manners of this county, well, things just seemed to happen on whims. So what do we owe this visit to?
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