truly a teacher by nature. Or maybe he simply thought
that if I wasn’t clever enough to solve his riddles, I didn’t deserve the
answers. That was fair enough.
Anyway, it wasn’t
like there was much else to do out in this isolated cave-cottage but put my
mind to a puzzle.
“Two hundred and
eighty-two,” I pondered. “That means you were born in…1517?” I watched him nod.
“In England? Under Henry VIII?”
“That’s right.”
What a thought
that was. “And is this the body you had when you became what you are now?”
“Yes. I was
twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three,” I
mused. “Are you a ghost?” I asked curiously. “Have you died?”
Merrick set his
book aside and folded his hands, looking at me. “Do you take me in jest?”
I straightened,
surprised. “No, sir! Have I offended you?”
“No, William. But
I cannot comprehend your demeanor. Are you not disturbed by the thought of
speaking with a walking corpse?”
I frowned, thinking
about it. “No,” I said at last, puzzled myself. “No, I suppose I’m not.”
“And if I were a
witch, that would not disturb you?”
“No, sir. As I’ve
told you, my own mother does things that could be called witchcraft. Like all
the Indians. I’ve carried plenty of charms in my life,” I added, though I
couldn’t remember having admitted that to anyone.
“And if I had no
soul?”
“Master Merrick,”
I said helplessly. “If you intended to frighten me, you should not have been so
kind. You’ve made a fine impression on me already, so I don’t mind if you’re a
witch, wizard, or ghoul. I have no particular prejudices against any of them.”
Merrick studied
me, then shook his head in defeat and opened his book. “You are an interesting
young man, William Lacy.”
It wasn’t the first
time I’d heard that, but the way he said it warmed my heart a little. I hoped
he did find me interesting. “Did you like England, sir?”
He looked up
again, raising his eyebrow. “No,” he said. “I was poor, and it was a cruel
place then. I left as soon as I could.”
“Why did you come
to the New World?”
“Because I had
always wanted to.” Merrick closed his book and rose from his chair. As I
watched, worried that I had annoyed him, he came and sat on the bench beside
me. “What’s this you’re reading?”
“It fascinates me
so,” I remarked. The book was a directory of local herbs and their Indian uses,
with intricate drawings of each plant as well as some delightful illustrations
of Indian scenes. Interspersed throughout were sections on beliefs and magical
practices. “And it is a lovely book, finely made…”
“There is still
much to learn from the Indians,” Merrick said quietly, looking over my shoulder
at the page. “It’s a shame what knowledge will be lost as the nation moves
westward.”
He smelled like
cedar and soap, a familiar scent by now and one I had grown very fond of. I
couldn’t help remembering then how we’d bathed the day before in the lean-to. Ah, I remembered. I ought to reply. “Yes,” I agreed, and propped my chin on
my hand thoughtfully as I looked down at a drawing of a woman in a leather
dress holding a feathered wand aloft. “I’d like to see an Indian. On their
land, I mean. That is…”
“I’m sure you will
meet them.” He turned the page.
“Do you ever treat
the Indians?”
“Not here. But we
trade. They are fond of a certain tea of mine.”
“Which one?”
“An aid to marital
passion.”
“I always wondered
what was in those,” I mused. “And if they worked.”
He turned the
page. After a moment he rose and moved behind me in the kitchen, pouring
another cup of tea. “I will be in the cavern.”
I turned to look
at him. “Is there anything I ought to do, sir?”
He stopped in the
bedroom doorway. The straight line of his collarbone caught the lamplight, and
his black hair gleamed. “No, William. Retire when you’d like. And thank you for
your help today.”
“No thanks
that if I wasn’t clever enough to solve his riddles, I didn’t deserve the
answers. That was fair enough.
Anyway, it wasn’t
like there was much else to do out in this isolated cave-cottage but put my
mind to a puzzle.
“Two hundred and
eighty-two,” I pondered. “That means you were born in…1517?” I watched him nod.
“In England? Under Henry VIII?”
“That’s right.”
What a thought
that was. “And is this the body you had when you became what you are now?”
“Yes. I was
twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three,” I
mused. “Are you a ghost?” I asked curiously. “Have you died?”
Merrick set his
book aside and folded his hands, looking at me. “Do you take me in jest?”
I straightened,
surprised. “No, sir! Have I offended you?”
“No, William. But
I cannot comprehend your demeanor. Are you not disturbed by the thought of
speaking with a walking corpse?”
I frowned, thinking
about it. “No,” I said at last, puzzled myself. “No, I suppose I’m not.”
“And if I were a
witch, that would not disturb you?”
“No, sir. As I’ve
told you, my own mother does things that could be called witchcraft. Like all
the Indians. I’ve carried plenty of charms in my life,” I added, though I
couldn’t remember having admitted that to anyone.
“And if I had no
soul?”
“Master Merrick,”
I said helplessly. “If you intended to frighten me, you should not have been so
kind. You’ve made a fine impression on me already, so I don’t mind if you’re a
witch, wizard, or ghoul. I have no particular prejudices against any of them.”
Merrick studied
me, then shook his head in defeat and opened his book. “You are an interesting
young man, William Lacy.”
It wasn’t the first
time I’d heard that, but the way he said it warmed my heart a little. I hoped
he did find me interesting. “Did you like England, sir?”
He looked up
again, raising his eyebrow. “No,” he said. “I was poor, and it was a cruel
place then. I left as soon as I could.”
“Why did you come
to the New World?”
“Because I had
always wanted to.” Merrick closed his book and rose from his chair. As I
watched, worried that I had annoyed him, he came and sat on the bench beside
me. “What’s this you’re reading?”
“It fascinates me
so,” I remarked. The book was a directory of local herbs and their Indian uses,
with intricate drawings of each plant as well as some delightful illustrations
of Indian scenes. Interspersed throughout were sections on beliefs and magical
practices. “And it is a lovely book, finely made…”
“There is still
much to learn from the Indians,” Merrick said quietly, looking over my shoulder
at the page. “It’s a shame what knowledge will be lost as the nation moves
westward.”
He smelled like
cedar and soap, a familiar scent by now and one I had grown very fond of. I
couldn’t help remembering then how we’d bathed the day before in the lean-to. Ah, I remembered. I ought to reply. “Yes,” I agreed, and propped my chin on
my hand thoughtfully as I looked down at a drawing of a woman in a leather
dress holding a feathered wand aloft. “I’d like to see an Indian. On their
land, I mean. That is…”
“I’m sure you will
meet them.” He turned the page.
“Do you ever treat
the Indians?”
“Not here. But we
trade. They are fond of a certain tea of mine.”
“Which one?”
“An aid to marital
passion.”
“I always wondered
what was in those,” I mused. “And if they worked.”
He turned the
page. After a moment he rose and moved behind me in the kitchen, pouring
another cup of tea. “I will be in the cavern.”
I turned to look
at him. “Is there anything I ought to do, sir?”
He stopped in the
bedroom doorway. The straight line of his collarbone caught the lamplight, and
his black hair gleamed. “No, William. Retire when you’d like. And thank you for
your help today.”
“No thanks
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