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LOVE CHASE The spring's almost summer-like weather transformed everyone I came across that next week into children. However, I seemed to walk about in a daze. Mr. Shaw was on my mind more than ever. I felt convinced he was an emotional time bomb on the verge of going off. I wondered which disturbance might erupt first, frustration or sexual mishap? There was so much I needed to know before an intelligent treatment could be enacted. Because of this I cancelled five of my regular patients and found myself going over and over my notes on the storyteller. Yvonne had her hands full fielding off patients who called complaining about my pushing off their appointments. I longed for and dreaded our next session all at the same time. Would he bring in another tale? Would I ever get to pin point his alter ego's behavior in reality? Who his other characters were? Would any sense ever come out of why he needed to tell me these tales? My patience felt as if it were wearing thin while my mind begged me to wait until his sleight of hand faltered just enough for me to catch him off guard. Maybe then I could get him to discuss openly the tale of Martin Shaw, circa 1985! Discuss it before the world read about him as a sniper or rapists or a mass murder slicing people up with a Roman sword! With Catiline dead I correctly guessed a second tale had ended. I sat awaiting Mr. Shaw's entrance with hopes that he would finally clarify his problem in less round about means or at least allow me to begin a series of questions needed to ascertain his problemgoal as he called it. I itched for an outright challenge about the odd events happening to Denise. But logic dictated these events to be coincidental. I really did not believe that but I'd appear awfully foolish if Mr. Shaw went thoughtless and blank. No less would my reputation suffer if word got out to my peers. The picture I conjured up of Aaron and Tim bouncing the story between them, one taking it so seriously, the other cracking people's sides with his wit, was enough to make me set the idea aside. As before, I had surmised a sexual problem under foot. His shocking revelation concerning Catiline's sister Julia and her nocturnal ritual added another notch to my scenario. But who was the embodiment of Julia in Mr. Shaw's life? For that matter, how did Catiline figure into his life? Mr. Shaw had wealth but I did not think he was a politician or a political activist; he temperament was too conservative for either. His reference to Cato's depraved behavior also prompted me into worrying about how he envisioned the sex act: as an act of love or a form of aggression wherein one partner devours the other? The entire case sat like a puzzle, its every piece did not fit. No matter how insistently one forced them. All I could make of it as I shoved pieces to and fro was that he was leading to something, an act of commitment, an act of settling the score between him and his Cicero, a commitment to gain back Sheba. Had I an inkling more of a shred of proof, I would had committed him at the start of our session! But that would had went over as good as sticking my fingers into a mouse trap if, when seeking the authority needed to place him under observation, I discover he's the official I must speak with. After all, I had no idea who Mr. Shaw really was. Entering, he casually took a seat. I quietly greeted him with a nod and waited for him to begin. When he instantly stepped into another story I hide any disappointment. In fact, looking back on it now, I kind of expected it. At least he allowed me access to his imagination too. But this simple entry left me wondering if I'd ever exit with a solution to his mysterious problem. "This is not the end of my story," he said with that discerning smile. "But it is the last tale I will tell to you." "Any particular reason why?" I prayed he'd answer. "You will know all the answers shortly after this last story." He fired a hopeful chord in me as I gestured for him to proceed. With God speed, I might add. "We move now into the middle ages, Doctor," he began while I silently listened. "My story carries us to the gray, cool shores of England. The year is 1378. That year and indeed that whole era was an extremely eventful one for all of Europe. England and France were tit-for-tat within a 100-year war. The feudal system had just about ran its course. Kings heeded popular opinion unlike any since classical Rome. In Rome the church drew a Schism in that year. A parting of ideas produced two popes, one in Rome and one in Avignon, France. Need I tell you both excommunicated the other? Not that this was news then for Avignon had the papal seat for many years. However, the Church never had two popes disclaiming the other with such vehement. Also in that year a landmark of the ReformationJohn Wyclifcame before a bishop's assembly at Lambeth, England, to face chargers that he incited to do what Henry VIII did a century later: subject the church under the state. Most notable concerning this event was that government and populace supported Wyclif. This revolution, for the first time, shook the foundations of the Church of Rome and Avignon. One could say about 1378, that it was the one certain moment when Europe awoke from the long, deep depths from the Black Death. The Renaissance still sat years out of reach but in that year man was truly climbing out from the dark ages. Social, political and religious changes electrified community, cities and especially schools. Exciting the minds of men, it conceived a confidence in their hearts. Revolution and reform thrilled men's blood and readied their anxious muscles for action. Wise men wrote marvelous and inventive essays concerning the important role of the common man. Reformers used those words to organize an influence no king could deny. And the common man again demanded rights as he had last done before the Caesars. That of course was for healthy men. Adding to the social and political environment, hampering it, the Black Death broke out again and again throughout England. It has been said that the plaque claimed one out of every three men when it did strike. It's also said the war with France claimed one of three and those remaining turned to begging for their income. Fortunately, such remarks were just exaggerations. Within this exciting atmosphere you and I, Doctor, focus in on a town named Weare in Somerest County. Weare's a long distance from Canterbury and Westminster. Therefore Weare only received yesterday's news as well as being a bit outside the fashion of things. This little township had a baron who still ruled much like a feudal lord claiming his right to do so directly from divine source. The logic went well with children and those with short memories. I'll explain why after I tell you a little about this baron. Lord Alfred played two sides of the pound. On his side he subjugate the people of Weare in such a way that the people did not find unappealing. For the most part Lord Alfred enjoyed a locally adventurous life full of light heartedness and merriment. Thus he expected his subjects to live similar lives. Daily toil came no easier for all this gaiety yet they succumbed not knowing how else to react since he owned all of Weare and most of Somerest County. On the other side of this precarious coin, Parliament, the bishops and King Richard II left him alone and to his own devices since he filled their purses whenever asked. He also made the best of accommodations for heads of state and Church whenever a rare visitor would travel to Weare. Alfred stood out among rural lords as a lusty fellow eager to call a jousting tournament or hunt the forest for days on end. If and when the King asked for able-bodied men for war, Alfred drummed up the best of his lot. Usually this was achieved through cunning speeches written by better hands, often spoken by better tongues. Recruiting in those days came easy at times, harder at others. The disappointing Crusades worried new would-be knights into placing chivalry aside for the livery hammer or the tranquility of the baron's farm. Many who might have been knights accepted positions as squires and turned to the profitable trades of wool and other fabrics. Just the same, the common man believed it more honorable to die in battle than in bed. To quote a favorite anachronism of the time: 'A natural death was a disgrace no man could survive.' Alfred's position came handed down to him by his grandfather, Sir John Ball. Who earned the title of Baron through the good fortune of mining coal found under his land. It was during the past century that England held the distinction of exporting the most affordable coal and metals. The Kingdom is of greater value under the land than above, was a common verse in the thirteen hundreds. However, the coal dwindled out during Alfred's reign. He, fearful of becoming a vassal himself, he invested in many herds of sheep. Thus wool slowly pulled the men from the mines and placed them above the fields teeming with sheep. Women and children tendered the racks producing fabrics of which Weare came to be renowned. This success left Alfred a wealthy baron and created some political leverage as well; since wool attracted many markets and craftsmen from far away and influential places like Flanders and Florence. Through his grandfather's lineage Alfred's family often found themselves uncomfortably thrown in the middle of the social and religious revolts of the day. Alfred's second cousin, the Reverend John Ball held a high admiration for Wyclif and fanatically aided both clergy and laymen to stand against King and Popes. This eventually led to his cousin's downfall and forever made Alfred a juggler of sensitive issues. When Wyclif in May of 1378 appeared before the bishops' assembly at Lambeth to defend his views, Alfred's cousin urged the family to show support for the religious reformer. However, Alfred saved face with the Church by avoiding the issue. And, by privately expressing delight in Wyclif's sermons, he saved face with family and Kingwho also privately supported the reform. These events are not directly involved in my story, Doctor, but help explain the position and character of Lord Alfred. A man entrusted with responsibility that he accepted seriously enough to change his mask as often as situation required it. Alfred wore his masks well, keeping gaiety alive in his people while bowing to the whims of government and church. There existed three major religious forces in England at this time: The Church of Rome or the traditionalists, the Archbishop of Canterbury whose ties fluttered from RomeAvignon and the king, and lastly the occult. "The traditionalists, as they fondly called themselves, clung to Rome and/or Avignon. Most could not explain why except it was the established Church of Jesus. The Reformists argued the point, asking where in His teachings Jesus suggested His priests fill their purses with hard workingmen's money and fornicate with anything that smiled. Not to mention why there existed two representatives for Him on earth; each executing the other! The occultists were the unseen ones whose doctrines were seldom, if ever heard. Yet sorcery rattled the hearts of God-fearing people and all prayed that the Jesus, either in Rome or Avignon, would keep the unknown gods of these dark sects far at bay. The occultists were not represented in England since Rome pushed them out of court graces some hundred years prior. Merlin was still fondly remembered and revered by most Britons but later court magicians turned off too many kings and subjects. The world of the occult was always intended for the secretive few so naturally it evolved back into the dark, silent forests. "At the seat of government the King cared little for the popes because they seemed always to want little else but money. This annoying trait weighed heavy on England because she trapped herself in war with France. And the Pope in France, in effect, was taking money from England and giving it to French military endeavors. Therefore the King longed for reform and desired all his subjects to think along the same lines, though he did this outside the view of the sacristy. Therefore Alfred's keen sensitivity to his own little kingdom forced him to realize the political advantage of having all his subjects comply with the King. "I do not want to paint a picture of Alfred as a ruthless lord. On the contrary, he ruled with the best interests of Weare at heart. And for most of his life all went very well. His subjects knew him. Realized the man thought God put him on earth for their benefit and so long as the common man walked a wide path around Alfred, all were happy. He did keep watch that his subjects enjoyed his reign by actually going out among the folks and asking point blankly. Sometimes beheading those who sought too much reform or hailed the Church too fervently. And since those in charge of carrying out his edicts knew this of him, they made certain his orders were well followed least they be commoners soon also. "But things took a turn for the worse in 1378. Alfred's wife, the Lady Esther, long harbored a mysterious illness. It weakened her daily to eventually strap her to a sick bed in that year. This also took its toll on the good lord Alfred. Till then Esther over saw all the castle activities with its many servants and maidens. Now domestic decisions were being pressed upon Alfred. Decisions he truly felt he could not handle. And seldom did he handle them well. "He found an oasis from all this, however, in his daughter Lisbeth. When a hallway filled with the rustle of her day dress he would pause any occupation to seek her lithe and budding continence. Her sweet scent always announced Lisbeth's whereabouts as Alfred's anxious eyes hurried to capture his little, blonde lady entering the chamber. "Lisbeth began each day filled with a love for life and the glow of youthful passion. As princess of Weare her duties lay over the multitude of children in the castle. A chore she took to like a bird to the air. Never did the children debate Lisbeth's role or wish for a jollier maiden. She was just a child herself who understood the ignorant bliss of youth. The further she kept them from the concerns of the world the happier she and everyone else felt about life. Each evening Lisbeth instructed the children to the following day's events and at what time and place they were to meet. Seldom did a tot come late and never Lisbeth." "So we have three characters," I interjected. "I'm expecting a fourtha man." "You are listening to my tales!" Mr. Shaw beamed knowing all along I was. "Our last pertinent character is John of Tenlis. At this stage in my tale, John was only known by reputation, not well known in Weare. The more one inquired about him the more varied his reputation grew. Some claimed that as a young boy pirates kidnapped him and raised John to be a lethal terror worldwide. Eventually he escaped the life of a pirate and he came to Weare to settle down. Others said John of Tenlis' parents were murdered by forest hoodlums leaving the infant to fend for himself among the wilds of England's treacherous forests. Legend says a great sorcerer found and raised the boy, taught him the ways of magic. And many marvels were accredited to John. Still others sighted that he must have been a grand thief only. For surely he obtained much wealth from unknown sources and trades and, besides, he carried a title no one in or out of Weare ever heard of before because a township named Tenlis never appeared on any map the folks ever knew. But one fact all agreed on about this mysterious man was that he was Lisbeth's suitor." "Here we go!" I fell back into my chair. Almost kicking my feet up as if the entire story would unfold before my very eyes there and then. "I can tell you your own tale, Mr. Shaw." He looked puzzling at me. "This John chases Lisbeth but never gets her. Like Tanu losing Sheba to a grave and Catiline losing Elena due to his misunderstanding." "You are way off, if I may say so, Doctor," he flatly stated. "In both casesall casesyou are missing the point. Please listen more carefully this time." Shaw baffled me. Didn't his tales relate themselves just as I supposed? What was I missing? Playing the good doctor I covered up my confusion with a dim smile and pretended to stand corrected. But I felt like a real idiot. I know what I'd heard, had the stories down pat. Perhaps I needed to listen better? If that were possible! "John and all the mystery surrounding him confounded Alfred to no end. He distrusted mysterious men. Besides John professed no faith, no politics and was three times Lisbeth's fifteen years of age. Moreover he frightened other suitors away by his many strange reputations. Alfred never desired to betroth away his lovely daughter but, if needed to, wanted at least a good pick and choosing. Each time John approached the castle with his many minstrels, jesters and banner wavers to call upon Alfred's court in search of Lisbeth's hand, Alfred would send them away frustrated with a wait and see answer." Mr. Shaw ended here. He stood up to stretch within his fine suit, his arms out wide and his face the picture of satisfaction. "That is the introduction to our next drama?" I surmised. "Yes." He remained standing and readied himself to leave. "Again four characters." I may have sounded like a broken record but I felt totally frustrated. Mr. Shaw smiled in a teasing manner. He went for the door saying, "All will be clear to you in a matter of weeks. Good-by, Doctor Thomas, my old friend." This session ended unusually short. I hated Mr. Shaw as if he well knew I'd be wracking my brains out between patients trying to guess if this tale would go as the other two. And what I had been missing all along. If indeed I was missing anything. For the next hour that was exactly what I did. The unfortunate patient who followed Martin Shaw was Mrs. Ziegler. She was a high-class lady with furs, pearls, fine jewelry, you name it and she owned it. But she lived a lie. Under all her wraps wandered an insecure, lost woman. Once she was just a mixed up prostitute until a man came along, a wealthy fellow, married her and tried to mold her into something she could never be. The odd thing about her case was she did not realize her own situation. She came to me because it was fashionable for the rich to have a psychiatrist on the payroll, and because her nights were tainted with occurring dreams. Dreams wherein a dark veiled woman would kidnap her and chase her through crowded streets. Naturally this woman was none other than her true self. Her inner person trying to tell her she lived one big lie. In her waking state she carried on as the wife of privilege. What her husband suggested of her she followed along in a sort of way, play acting a person whom didn't exist. She was trying to be someone she fooled herself into thinking was wiser and more important than herself. She spoke about her week away from me. Soon I started to read a comparison with her and I and my relationship with Martin Shaw. I began wondering if his tales were causing a response from me. Maybe even causing a reaction that lingered over into Dennie's life? The thought was not unreasonable. Like Mrs. Ziegler, perhaps I searched too hard into Shaw's tales for a meaning where there may be none at all. The significance supplied by my own imagination. As she rambled on, I reviewed exactly how I treated Mr. Shaws tales. I decided I had focused too much on the characters. Didnt he just tell me I got him all wrong? Still, I believedI knew I had the players correct. I must have been misinterpreted the plots? It had to be once I figured out the plot or plots in his story line I would discover his fantasy as it compared to his life. But I did not know anything about his life! Even with Mrs. Ziegler present, I tossed through notes on Martin Shaw. My only documentation, unconcerned with the plots, lay around his conservative characteristics and, what I assumed to be, sexual mishaps or problems. I did not know how much time he had before striking the iron of his goal. But I figured I had one last tale and its length to figure it out. |
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