The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

by Susan Skylark

  ~The Gospel according to John~

  Words, Words, Words...

  With little orange feet, a comical waddling walk, slightly bulging eyes, a mournful voice, and arrayed in light grey feathers, thus equipped, did our heroine set forth on her adventures. She laughed wryly, even her mirth sounding woeful in the peculiar voice, who ever heard of such a heroine? In the tales, the heroes were always finding themselves cursed by truly respectable sorcerers who turned them into rocks, trees, monsters, old men, frogs, snakes, and any number of horrible or disgusting things. Of course those so cursed in the old stories always earned the wrath of their magical benefactors by accident of birth or interfering in some plot or in some other sensible way, not by accidentally stepping out in front of a speeding carriage and imperiling not only oneself but also the magician’s haste and equipage. Perhaps the old wizard had done her a favor in saving her life but was she doomed to spend the rest of her days garbed as the most innocuous of all fowl? A dove, a gentle, none too bright, unexciting, dove. She was neither fearsome nor hideous or even interesting. What was to be done? She was about to be trampled by those thundering horses but magic and instinct had combined to save her life, finding herself instantly in avian form, her birdish brain had ordered her feathered form aloft before she even realized her danger. But then the carriage had continued on in its haste and left her gaping after like the silly bird she was. Putting her wings to use, she pursued the coach and its occupant, hoping he might reverse the curse that now lay upon her.

  She pondered these things as she flapped along, such hexes were always laid upon royal personalities or those of great virtue or wisdom or valor or destiny. She was a poor farmer’s daughter of neither great virtue nor vice, unless a tendency to daydream could be counted as such, which had thus resulted in this travesty. Night was beginning to fall and she felt a great urge to seek out some hidden covert of the woods and tuck her head beneath her wing. She fought this strange instinct and hastened on after the lumbering carriage, whose horses were showing signs of the day’s haste. At last it pulled up before a small inn and its occupant disembarked and entered the inn. The dove blinked, this fell sorcerer seemed to be a rather plain looking, slouching fellow who was very shabbily dressed. She flew in the open door after him and perched among the rafters of the common room, to better study her prey. He made his request of the serving girl and sat himself down beside the fire. He ate and then went to bed, as if he were nothing more than a tired traveler. The dove escaped out an open window and found the man’s carriage in the stableyard, intent on finding some place to secret herself within that she might confront the man on the morrow about her perplexing fate. At last, instinct could take over and she tucked her head peaceably beneath her wing.

  She wakened early, as most birds do, and glanced hastily about, hoping it had all been a dream, but alas, she found herself unconsciously preening her feathers with an all too authentic beak for it to be anything but real. Finished with her morning grooming, she made sure her hiding place was secure and then impatiently awaited the wizard. Said magician soon gained his accustomed seat and the vehicle quickly rattled off. Once well on their way, again rushing off recklessly down the road, the dove emerged from her hidey hole and fluttered upon the vacant seat across from the mage. She blinked foolishly at him and he blinked just as foolishly at her. There seemed to be no recognition or understanding in the man’s eyes. She had thought to find cunning and something a little uncanny in those eyes, but they were as guileless and insipid as those of any milk cow. She sighed and ruffled her feathers in frustration, who was this boy and where was the vile wizard that had laid this curse upon her? The boy stared at the bird with as little understanding and finally asked in hesitation, “what is all this about?”

  The bird blinked in surprise, “all what?”

  The boy stared in disbelief but not at the talking fowl but rather at its ignorance, “why this mad haste? Why the cryptic instructions? Where are we going? Why me?”

  The dove cooed a mournful laugh, “I am afraid you have mistaken me for someone else. I was going to ask you questions of a similar nature. Come, tell me your own strange tale and I shall tell you mine.”

  The boy said, “this monstrous carriage pulled up into my village a few days ago and the coachman told me I had best get in. It then thundered off as if bandits were pursuing it and only stopped as darkness fell. The footman told me to go into the inn, order supper, and sleep the night. Such have I done for three days and never a word will either of my companions say to me than that I must either get in or go rest and sup!”

  The dove told her own tale and then they stared at each other, neither having more of an answer but each glad for at least one companion on such an adventure. Said the boy at last, “I suppose there is nothing to do but get to journey’s end and see what awaits us there.”

  “I suppose,” sighed the dove.

  After that, neither seemed much inclined to talk, each completely caught up in their own uneasy thoughts and what might lie at journey’s end. They rattled on for three more days, each night alighting at a wayside inn for supper and sleep and then onwards, ever onwards, come morning. The boy took to saving some of his bread each night for the dove while she spent the entire journey in the coach. On the fourth day of their journey together, the forest without took on a decidedly darker feeling and appearance. The wind moaned disconsolately, dull grey clouds lowered menacingly, and the temperature plummeted while a miserable drizzle began to fall. The trees might have been glowering old men, crooked and bent, darkly cloaked, and huddling along the roadside to glare repugnantly as the impudent coach drove past. The road became rutted, twisted, and barely wide enough to allow passage of the carriage; the very air seemed to tingle with menace and dread. The boy sighed, “my only consolation is that we are not forced to ride atop the vehicle in such weather or amongst such a wood.” The dove fluffed her feathers in dismay and cooed her agreement.

  As twilight darkened the perpetual gloom into complete blackness, the coach at last rattled to a stop and the door was thrown open. The coachman and footman stood on either side of the opening and glared at their passengers. The boy shuddered but silently descended from the coach and motioned for the dove to perch upon his shoulder. The moment he was out of the vehicle, both men hurried back to their posts and the carriage rattled off with all haste, leaving the boy and dove to exchange another uneasy look. With nothing to do but stand perpetually in the grim night or move forward and see what awaited them, the lad took a step and then another. After an interminable journey through the sodden night along a barely discernable path, at last a great black shadow loomed out of the night before them. After a few moments, they realized it was a crumbling castle of black stone, as dark and grim as the forest in which it huddled. They exchanged another meaningful look and the boy entered the gaping gates. Not a torch nor a flicker of fire disturbed the gloom. They explored the sodden courtyard and collapsed stable but found nothing to either greet or alarm them. Shaking his head, the lad made for a small side door in the castle proper and turned the groaning handle which sounded ominously loud in the otherwise tomblike silence. He shuddered and entered the Keep.

  Both blinked in utter astonishment, for they had expected a dark corridor filled with dankness, fungi, and all sorts of hideous things crouching among the shadows, or perhaps even instant death or an abandoned and crumbling room, not a snug little library stuffed to overflowing with books with a crackling fire upon the hearth, a smug cat upon the rug, and a birdlike little man with wispy gray hair and half-moon spectacles smiling at them from a faded armchair. “You are come at last then,” chirped the man, “very good, but I fear you have just missed tea, a pity that, but perhaps we can have an early supper.”

  Feeling something about to shift within her, the dove fluttered quickly to the floor and the next moment stood a rumpled peasant girl as ever she had been. Said she in complete wonder, “sir,
who are you and why are we here?”

  The man laughed and settled more deeply into his chair, his hands on his stomach, “you lady, I hope shall keep house for us while your flummoxed companion here is to be my apprentice.”

  The boy stuttered, “apprentice? Apprentice what? Sorcerer?”

  The man laughed, “do not be silly lad, I go in for none of that vile magic stuff though there are enchantments enough surrounding us, it is none of my doing. Rather, you shall learn what it is to be The Keeper of the Library.”

  The boy gaped, “which Library?”

  The man sighed in the long suffering of fools, “The Library.” The pair stared at him blankly and he continued, “do you children know nothing about lore, legend, myth, or history?” They continued on agape and he resumed, “apparently not. This is The Library, the place where all of the wisdom of the ages before and yet to come resides. There is not a bad sonnet spouted by an illiterate peasant to his beloved that does not make it into the collection. It is here that heroes, wizards, kings, sages, and all seekers of knowledge and truth eventually come and here that they find their answers. We are the gatekeepers of that knowledge.”

  The girl frowned, “why such theatrics to bring us to this place? Why not just ask about and hire a sensible lad and servant girl as other people would?”

  The man laughed heartily, “this is The Library lass, it does as it pleases and we are merely here to accomplish its whims. It does as it sees fit and who are we to argue? Of course you can refuse, but that would be silly indeed, for The Library does not choose vainly. Well?”

  Too overwhelmed to speak or even think, the pair nodded in resignation and settled tiredly into a pair of nearby chairs, for they had nothing better to do at the moment. Perhaps once the initial shock wore off their minds would once more begin to function. Seeing how overwhelmed and tired they were, the bespectacled man took pity upon his guests and actually went through the tedious ordeal of preparing them a minor repast. They thanked him blankly, still too overcome to process much, but grateful for the simple but reviving fare. A little more rested and their hunger and thirst addressed, there was perhaps hope for a meaningful conversation.

  Said the boy at last, “why do you need an apprentice sir? With all the other oddities about this place, I would not doubt that the Librarian here might not live forever.”

  The man replied with a chuckle, “you do have a head on your shoulders after all then lad? Very good, though I should have known as much for the Library would not choose one so ill-fitted to this position. I am getting on in centuries, I have lived a very long time as you have assumed but my heart is still mortal and I begin to grow weary of this existence. I feel very soon the time will come for me to see what else the world may hold for me, or perhaps to glimpse what lies beyond it. Either way, a replacement must soon be found. My poor wife wearied of this life not too long ago and retired from her service as lady of the place and I will soon follow after her. Thus a new housekeeper and Librarian are needed.”

  The girl had revived a bit and her usually ready wit, though still reeling with all that had happened, made itself known, said she, “why all the disguises, tricks, and diversions? Why the grim old fortress, the dour servants, the horrid forest, and the need to transform me into a dove?”

  The man smiled in private amusement as he polished his spectacles but looked into the girl’s furious eyes but his smile only deepened as he answered, “we cannot allow just anyone to come traipsing in here now can we? The Library feels the need to protect itself by various means to keep gawking tourists and nefarious villains alike at bay. Those who need what is here, will find it and those who don’t are none the wiser. As to your altered persona, my lady, this is a respectable establishment attended by respectable people. As such, we cannot have an unmarried lass like yourself ensconced with an equally unmarried lad in a closed carriage for days on end, what would people think? Nay, you will either have to marry the lad or spend your time alone in his presence in a guise other than that of a maiden.” She made a squawking sound very much like an enraged pigeon might, but he only shook his head and continued, “it is not my will lass but as the Library dictates. Neither need you remain against your will if the Rules are not satisfactory to you.”

  She sighed heavily and collapsed back in her chair like an old and tired woman, too overcome to do aught but think. The boy turned wary eyes upon the old Librarian and then glanced nervously at the lady, unsure what to make of this proclamation. The man laughed, “easy lad, it must be by mutual consent that you are wed, if you ever are. It was an agreeable arrangement with my own dear wife and perhaps the pair of you will make a go of it one day, but you need make no decisions now.”

  The girl had revived a bit and exchanged an incredulous gaze with her companion before the lad asked, “who exactly founded the Library and who oversees it?”

  The man shook his head, “the Library has always been and will always be, though perhaps not in the same shape or form; for wisdom and knowledge never die nor shall they pass from the realm of being though the earth perish and the stars themselves burn out. As to who oversees it, that is a silly question if ever I heard one for the Library oversees itself and attends to its own needs and wellbeing most assiduously. We are merely its servants.”

  The boy shuddered, “it then has a will of its own?”

  The man laughed heartily, “nay lad, it is not an entity per se, but rather an idea that is self-perpetuating and sustaining, set in motion by the same hand that sent the worlds spinning and maintained in like manner. The Library has no more will in and of itself than does the earth, but even so it functions as a living, growing being and throbs with the breath that called order out of chaos, light out of darkness. Here is Wisdom and Truth, the source of all real power and we are its humble guardians.” The man turned gentle, laughing eyes upon the flummoxed younglings and ordered them both to bed, knowing their exhaustion and wonder would impede any further understanding this night. They hastened to comply and were soon lost in grateful sleep. Once the youngsters were abed, the man stood staring thoughtfully into the fire, his pipe between his teeth, and he said quietly to the dozing cat, “was I that clueless when first I came here?” The beast smiled knowingly and the man grinned wryly around his pipe stem.

  Morning found them again in the snug sitting room with their host in his usual chair. He harried the girl off to the kitchen to see to their breakfast while he stood and motioned for the boy to follow him on a brief tour. There was not much to see, at least not at the moment. There were the three bedchambers, the number changed according to the needs of the Library’s guests and servants, the kitchen where the girl puttered about as if she had known the place all her life, and the book filled sitting room. The boy turned a startled gaze on his host, “what is this? This huge castle has so small an interior?”

  The man laughed merrily, “what you saw on the outside is certainly not the true exterior of the Library, if it has one, rather it was a vision to keep out unwary and unwanted company. As to the interior, whole worlds might be lost in a forgotten closet while this snug little room contains all the knowledge of the ages before and yet to come. Don’t let your eyes deceive you, it is as big or small as it needs to be at the moment. When you need a certain book it will be given and when unneeded you won’t need to dust it, worry about mold destroying it, or have it needlessly lying about underfoot. Think how much trouble it will save that dear girl if she need not maintain an entire castle on her own!”

  The boy nodded, still not comprehending the bizarre physics of this place outside of Time and Space as he once knew them, and he asked, “and what is it the Librarian does? I assume you don’t spend all your time copying old manuscripts or chasing about the world for new bits of wisdom.”

  “Very good lad,” laughed the man warmly as they took a seat at the old battered table in the homely kitchen, “the Library does all its own literary housekeeping. The Lib
rarian’s job is to act as intercessor between the Collection and those come to seek its Wisdom.” The boy nodded, more and more eager to see what strange story he had suddenly found himself in the midst of. The girl listened with interest as she set their food on the table.

  Said she without preamble, well recovered from the shock of the previous evening, “what of me? Must I scrub pots and floors whilst he is spared slaving over old manuscripts with a dull quill and poor light?”

  The Librarian grinned quite mischievously for a man of his age and position, said he, “nay lass, that answer you already know.”

  She smiled warmly at him then, her mock glare vanishing in their shared joke, said she, “aye, true enough. The pantry is full of eggs I did not gather, vegetables I did not raise, wood I never cut, and the pots as clean as the day they were made though I have used them this very morning.”

  Said the older man, quite content, “it is not a bad existence, not in the least and the Library would not have called you into this service were you not exactly suited for it. Will you stay?”

  The pair exchanged an eager grin and then each nodded firmly at the old man, whose eyes glowed with pure delight. “Very well,” said he, “then I shall be off then.”

  The boy gaped, “but I thought I needed to complete my apprenticeship!”

  The man laughed, “you just did. You understand and anything you don’t yet know will come when needed. You will do well, both of you. Remember what I said about getting married, it will prove rather inconvenient for the lady until you can arrange matters properly. Fare you well!” With that, he took up his pipe and wandered out the back kitchen door and into whatever fate awaited him thence. The remaining pair exchanged a stymied look, but knew he had the right of it.

  And then the girl was again a dove and she sighed in consternation, “this will never do! How am I to accomplish anything, save perhaps dusting, garbed like this?”

  The lad grinned impishly, “is that a marriage proposal then, my lady?”

  The bird turned plaintive eyes upon the new Librarian, “I suppose it is. At least it will make things far less awkward around here.” The lad smiled and the next moment there came a knocking upon the sitting room door. They exchanged a startled look and the lad hastened to answer. A rather perplexed man in clerical robes stood upon the doorstep and blinked at the young man who answered his summons. The boy ushered him in and he blinked all the more to find himself in such a place when he had been knocking upon the crumbling door of a ramshackle hovel.

  Said the man rather tentatively, “you have need of me?”

  The lady, a maiden once more, smiled and said, “we wish to be wed good sir.”

  The man nodded, still rather perplexed, but wasted no time in fulfilling their wishes. Said he in reply when asked to stay for a celebratory luncheon, “I am sorry, but I have other duties to be about this day, I really must be going, but I wish you all the best. Whoever you are!”

  They saw him to the door and he hastened from that place, not sure even where or when he had been, only that he had felt a great urgency to attend to some business or other in that derelict cottage only to find himself in a stonewalled sitting room that might have lurked in a great lord’s keep, the two occupants were dressed strangely, as peasants might two hundred years ago in a distant country remembered now only in old tales. He shook his head and hurried on his way, inexplicably content with his day’s business. The newly wedded pair watched him go with a knowing smile, shut the door, and returned to the Library’s business.

  So passed many a year, or perhaps none at all. The Lady kept house and catered to the needs of their many and varied guests. The Keeper helped said guests find the knowledge that was vital to their immediate quest. And they dwell there still, or perhaps their heirs if they have grown weary of the timeless years, ever waiting to aide those who come to that place of All Wisdom in search of what can be found nowhere else. The cat still sits upon the hearthrug, smiling smugly, and knowing far too much. And even after time itself has passed out of memory and all the worlds are changed, still will the Library wait to avail itself to any soul in need and none can come away unchanged.

  I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,

  The reason why I cannot tell;

  But this I know, and know full well,

  I do not like thee Doctor Fell.