looking out of the single small window in his room above the stables when he saw a lone rider appear out of the darkness…
the rider/prince/stable boy immediately headed for the stairs and was already down in the stable when he heard mary magdalen calling…
“clod! clod! you lazy little bastard, where are you!” clod was the name the rider was called by in the inn,
“i am right here, mistress.”
“right here! why are you right here?” mary magdalen held her lantern up and gazed at the stable boy with her dark eyes. “are you reading the future again? practicing the dark arts up there on your bed if straw? there is a rider coming up the road, be here to greet him.”
“yes,,mistress, i know.”
“you know! how did you know?
“i was looking out the window.”
“a likely story. why were you not getting your sleep? we have a busy day tomorrow, even without this new guest.”
“i could not sleep.”
“bah!” mary magdalen came closer and aimed a kick at the boy but he danced away from it.
suddenly st christopher appeared behind his wife. “what is going on here? leave the boy alone, and get back yourself and prepare for this guest.”
with a last baleful glance at the stable boy, mary magdalen departed.
“wake paracelsus up,” st christopher told the boy. “he is probably dead drunk, as usual. and prepare for this new guest, who may be robin hood.”
“or he may be the sheriff of nottingham, or the emperor constantine,” said the boy.
“indeed, he might. but treat all guests with the same respect. “
“yes, master, i know.”
“and no politics! no politics in my inn! but you are a good boy, you know that.” and with that mild admomition, the saint departed, and the boy went in search of paracelsus in the dark recesses of the stable.
paracelsus was the ostler. he was often incapacitated by drink, and the boy did most of the work in the stables.
paracelsus had a small demon growing out of the back of his head. eventually the demon, when fully grown, would fly away and leave paracelsus to his own brain and thoughts.
but now, as the stable boy attempted to rouse the ostler, the demon stared malevolently at him.
“paracelsus, wake up!”
the ostler awoke with surprising suddenness and looked up at the boy. “where am i?” he asked. “wait - i remember. but i had the strangest dream. let me tell you about it -“
“and i have a tale to tell,” squeaked the demon, from the back of the ostler’s head.
“the dream and the tale will both have to wait.,” said the boy, “a lone traveler will shortly be here.” he pulled the ostler to his feet. “i will greet him, along with the master. just be on your feet and ready to help me when i bring his horse in, can you do that?’
“i can do that,” paracelsus mumbled. “who is this traveler?”
“he may be robin hood, or he may be the sheriff of nottingham.”
“or he may be john the baptist,” replied the ostler. “or even cyrus the great.”
“whoever he may be, i hear his horse’s hooves now. i leave you. be ready!”
the boy got outside just in time to be standing beside st christopher as the traveler rode up.
the traveler dismounted and the boy took the horse’s reins that were tossed to him.
the traveler towered above both the saint and the boy. his face was hidden by the brim of his long hat.
“greetings, sir,” the saint intoned. “and who might you be, if i may presume to ask?”
“i have many names,” the traveler replied, “but you can call me - the stranger.”
the stranger!
“welcome, stranger,” st christopher said. “and if you have a tale to tell, we will be happy to listen.”
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