Brief Discussions with the Traveler

ACT I.

SCENE I. A large study filled with charters and packaging.

[ODWIN at his desk, working intently. Enter TRAVELER suddenly.]

[TRAVELER observes ODWIN and his study for a few moments. ODWIN has not noticed him.]

TRAVELER
I can see you've spent quite a lot of time here.

ODWIN (startled)
What! Who... See here now, who's there?
Who stands before me?
If you've no appointment, begone from my office.
I've no time for the rabble.

TRAVELER
I wonder if you might reconsider.
How different are you from them,
when your worth is weighed in full?

ODWIN
I can't understand what you mean.
Just look out there.
Look at the people digging for worms.
Digging for carrots and iron.
I've risen above that. Through my own work!
Why be a grub when you could be a lion?
What does it matter if they suffer as a result?
The lion does not cry over its meal.

TRAVELER
Perhaps you're right, sir, though
I cannot but hope for otherwise.
What a cruel world you paint yourself in.
I wonder, what will you do
when a greater lion comes hungry for you?
Indeed he will not cry for you.
Must you then cry alone, at the end?

ODWIN

Hmph! What sentiment is this?
We are alone from the beginning.
Should I encounter an overwhelming foe,
It is my own weakness that I have to blame.

[Exit TRAVELER suddenly]

Of course no one will weep for me!
Ah, but he is already gone.

[Exeunt]

ACT II.

SCENE I. A broad forest.

[CASSIA stands low, bow in hand. She spies her target and pulls the bowstring taut.]

[Enter TRAVELER suddenly, directly in front of CASSIA.]

CASSIA
Ha! It is the merry vagabond himself!
I near mistook you for a stag.

TRAVELER
There's merit, perhaps, in such a thought.
Though I would not make so fine a meal.
You seem at ease, huntress.
Are you not shock'd at my arrival?

CASSIA
Mine eyes have seen much and more
That make your magic a paltry show.
Truly, what is one strange man
when compared to the strangeness
of this shifting, monstrous world?
I have seen bone fall off skin,
And time turn sideways.
I confess, those sights alone
now hold merit for such cries.

TRAVELER
For a moment, I questioned
your solitude. I see now,
why you walk upon this track.
For shame! I have been foolish.
It is agreeable, yes,
To roam the forests and see
The shadow of our canopy,
But you mustn't forget this:
It is only by the grace of light
That you may bear witness to any matter.
We are all blind fools without it,
stumbling quietly from place to place,
just as I do.

CASSIA
Hm. Perhaps I have judged you in haste.
You hold a fair measure of wit,
Though your badgering carries
the weight of this argument.

ACT III.


WYRE
Aye, it would be ages better to be a man of money.
I could hold my own keep,
And thenceforth demand whatever good I may desire.
Should I seek a fine supper? Why, I'd simply ring a bell,
And in brief time a roasted duck would appear before me.
Or perhaps a horse? Readily,
They'd fly over fields to carry my saddle.
And if my demands are not filled forthwith?
I would seek myself a rough crowd,
Such as the one I am truly given to,
And ask these villains to find their own bells to wring.

TRAVELER
Clever fellow! Your kind is familiar to me.
My eyes can see the toils of your mind
As clearly as the toils of your hands.
Your head is as fallow as your field.

WYRE
Away with that! My intent I have already made known.
There'll be no tilling ‘til the fill of coin is mine to feel.
In meantime, I'll keep to the byways and start my fortune
From the shares of the old merchants.
If I must contend with the drifters in my home,
then I shall rival them on the roads.

TRAVELER
Come now, look at this earth.
Can you not see the life under the surface?
Look, look! There lies a secret hold for you.
There is a future here beyond your dismay.
Though you must work, you wield the strength
To make mountains. A seed, planted in patience,
will take root and grow tall. Taller than your worrying.
That is the gift, the grand citadel of the humble farmer.

WYRE
Oh, is that so?
I should like to see you try it sometime!
I wonder how your own hands might fare
Under weight of scythe and rake.

TRAVELER
Believe me, dear man,
I have toiled much,
and still I see the fruits of my work laid out before me.

[Exeunt]

ACT IV.


SCENE I. A small burial yard.

[METILDA kneeling at a gravestone.]

[Enter TRAVELER suddenly, at a distance]

TRAVELER
Ah... I know this sight.
It is here that words are silenced
And lofty dreaming put to rest.
May I forgive myself a moment of weakness:
My skin longs for the caress of the soil.
Silent keener, please, if you would favor me,
Tell me of the one you've lost
And of the brighter days behind.

METILDA
He was my husband, stranger.
A loud man, and one of poor mirth,
but he was patient and pigheaded.
To his last breath he believed himself
cured of his illness.
As for the brighter days,
I can think of none.
The hunger, the cold, the foul screams of night.
They have always been there and will remain.
Fool that he was, my dear Flynnt has escaped our sorrow.

TRAVELER
I see I have asked too much of you.
I cannot expect to restore your peace,
Nor can I hold the sun in the sky,
Nor warm the sad earth,
Nor banish monstrosities.
No, I am only a man,
But I can offer you the knowledge I have.
The knowledge that has sustained me,
Through my years of doubt:
There's more to this world
Than can be owned by man or reason.
‘Though it is painful,
I beg you to hold on to the hope that binds you.
There is more strength in dreaming than despair.
You are not alone, even in this tomb of silence.
Work with your fellows,
Hold firm to your baffling fantasies,
And you may find yourself, someday,
In the presence of warmth and plenty and sanctuary.

METILDA
I know you now, stranger.
You are that lost soul of song and tale.
Always late, never lingering,
yet you leave more than you arrive with.