Not fettled, but at least you will get the story. Dont archive this yet, please, Mods, its not ready ---------------------------------------------------------------------- THE MADMAN This was a valley deep within the great mountains. Snow capped mountains were on every horizon, their lower slopes covered with tall dark cedars, a fast flowing river flowed though the centre, it was one of the planets greatest watercourses, but you would not know that to look at it here. The land was uninhabited beside a few villages, instead wildlife abounded, the woods and pastures were full of singing birds, bristle tailed squirrels scampered though the trees, brown foxes yipped, elk browsed on the bushes and grass which was full of many flowers. The village was small, and nameless to all except the locals. The inhabitants lived by goatherding, a little crop growing and handicrafts. They had very little to do with the outside world, so it was a surprise when someone spotted a van coming up the dirt road that lead to the plains. "Visitors." A woman pointed down the valley at the intruders. The smith emerged from the forge with a battered pair of binoculars. He surveyed the truck. "`Official` visitors." he spat on the ground. The first woman ran to get the headman, her hands still covered in curds where she had been making cheese, still, that could wait. The villagers assembled in the main street, each managing to make it look as if his or her official business had led them naturally there. The military van had seen better days. It ground to an unseemly halt in the space before the headmans house. The Driver opened the door and got out. He looked around and grunted in evident satisfaction. The headman watched from the shade of a ruined wall. He had no intention of introducing himself unless the soldiers asked after him. But they did not. Another soldier got out from the passengers side. He walked round the back of the van and unlocked the door. "Get out, the journeys over." he barked into the darkness. The third passenger did not emerge. The soldier slapped the door with a sharp bang; "I didnt bring you all this way for you to sit tight. Get out." Nothing happened. Several villagers who had been watching this farce stepped forwards. "Dog wont come?" said the first insolently. He was dressed like all the villagers in scuffed up leathers. Leather and furs were the main items of dress for Spectran natives; only cultured folk wore more than a few items of textiles. The soldier stared from the interior of the van to the speaker with some distaste. He had a marked dislike of the `wild people`, as the dwellers of the planets few towns called them. It was always the natives who caused silly trouble for the militia to sort out. But he knew that the natives often supplied Spectras finest minds, -that and the Elite. "Get out before I smack you silly." There was still no response. A second scruffy villager came up, he was slapping a whip idly against his side. "Not trained him properly, eh?" The driver of the van came round. "Whats causing the trouble?" He glared at the villager under his mask. The first wordlessly gestured into the van. The driver scowled in exasperation. "She said to dump him off and shift." He climbed into the van. There was the sound of a blow and a yelp of distress and a third newcomer came catapulting out of the van. This person was a boy looking to be in his early teens; he was naked and rather dirty. he cowered down, hiding his eyes from the sun. The two soldiers got back in the cab and drove off down the track without further explanation. The puzzled villagers stared at it until it was out of sight. Their abandoned supercargo sat in the dirt, blinking miserably at the light. He was thin and covered in bruises. He slumped to the ground, waiting for acceptance, or death. The headman looked at him. He was very perplexed. What was going on? And what to do with this arrival? "Wait! you cannot drink from that." The youth had dragged himself to his feet and made his way to the horse trough, he slumped down and began to scoop out water. The goat herders wife pulled him away, he looked at her incomprehendingly. "Ill get you some milk." She told him. The youth sat back down. "He needs a bath. Look how filthy he is." said another. The Headman shook his head wonderingly, "another idle mouth to feed." he turned to the visitors, "Ill sort this out," he announced. He then turned back around. what? Their visitor had disappeared. He was hiding under a cart. The goatherder managed to drag the youth out. Put him in the stables. He looks like he can be a handful. Ordered the Headman wearily. The goat herder and the smith manhandled their cross looking charge into the stables. Ill get the Abbot, he will know what to do. Sighed the headman wearily. ------------------------------ The new arrival was quite mad. He seemed incapable of speech beyond a whimper. He spent much of his time in a huddle, staring blankly. The headman brought him a big bowl of roast meat and a few slices of bread. Dont bolt it, you will be sick. He had to hold the bowl back and hand the food piece by peace to his hungry charge. Eventually he finished and settled down in the straw to sleep. ------------------------------ The youth settled in. He was content for once in his life. At home he had been made to feel very inferior, given all the worst tasks to do. Now he was mad he wasnt expected to do anything. Instead he stayed in the stable. Periodically a villager would bring him a bowl of bread and milk or stew. but otherwise he was undisturbed. He had no real idea of the passing of time so did not realise that it was nearly two days when the Abbot visited him. He looked the boy over, grunted in evident satisfaction then departed as abruptly as he had entered the stables. ----------------------------- Later the Abbot sat in the Headman's house drinking tea from a pre-fall teacup. An interesting case, very interesting. He's quite mad. So the poor boy is, but he is also a very holy man. The headman and his wife looked surprised. Holy? He `is` a holy man, the Luminous Spirit has touched his mind, that is why he is completely mad. Mad? Why is he holy if hes so obviously either insane or deficient? Asked the headman. Only the strongest intellects can be spoken to by the Great One and remain unharmed. This one obviously is strong, but not quite developed enough. How can you tell? Asked the goatherds wife curiously. She was neglecting her cheeses, and was sitting across from the headman. Several ways, the Abbot held up his hand. "We Luminati know the Touch of the Searing Eye of Enlightenment. Also the diviners sense a great presence." The Headman knew better than to argue on that. But he was curious on other matters. "Why was he dumped in our village? By the militia too?" The abbot shook his head. "Since its the militia I would say it was on the orders of someone else...Someone in the Luminati...Very possibly going high as the Luminous One himself." The headman did not like the way this was going. "Why here?" He prodded his own tea cup (modern, local made) thoughtfully. "Is it some sort of test?" "If its anything to reassure you, I think your village was chosen at random;" The abbot placed another slice of cheese on his bread, "I like this cheese very much." "I made it myself," said the goatherds wife cheerily, who had been sat silently. She had indeed, a decade ago, this was well matured cheese for honoured guests only. "Ill give you a round." The headman sighed inwardly; You didn't eat ten year matured cheese everyday. The abbot would for a while though. "That's very nice of you," replied the abbot, "if I took a whole round, my monks would eat it all, the gluttons. Ill have just a small lump, if you don't mind." The headman sighed with relief, he would treat himself to some more by way of reward. You asked if it was a test, the abbot was all business now he had eaten the cheese. As I said, I think you were selected at random, but you could view it as a test. Treat this boy well. He is the Great Lights very own. --------------------- The youth was treated much better now he was a holy man. His cage was cleaned thoroughly, and he was given a thorough wash. The carpenter took charge of him, as the Headman and his family were too busy. He lived in a simple cell, its floor was thickly strewn with straw, he had a couple of rough blankets, that and a big water pot that was too heavy to spill was the only furnishings. There was a window but it was too high for him to see out of, even with his tall frame. not that he cared, being content just to sit staring into space. The daily routine was easy, the carpenters oldest son would come with his breakfast, early, for he simply had to be fed before the rest of the family, as an honoured guest. Afterwards would be a brisk rub down with a wet cloth, the rag that he wore would be pulled around to something resembling decency. he would be led out for a walk round the village. The headman didnt trust him and so the youth wore a stout belt to which was attached a rope. After this he was fed,. then out back into his now freshly cleaned pen. This was the routine most days. On holy days he was brought out and paraded around the village on the end of a rope, like a dancing bear or tame ape. There would be a feast, on trestle tables. Each village