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At an Inn in the south of France, a man was
putting his feet up on a table. He was wearing strange clothes. He
looked quite tired and the landlord came up to the outsider.
‘Hello, stranger,’ Said the Landlord.
‘Hello. If you want me to go, I will, Said
the man.
‘No, stranger, I just want to know a bit
about you,’ said the Landlord.
‘I’ve been to Rome and back,’ said the
man. ‘My clothes have religious worth, for I am a pilgrim. And I
have brought back this.’ Out of his cloak he brought out an
almost shining bottle of water.
‘Your clothes, what do the mean?’ said
the Landlord.
‘This staff is to ward of the devil, and
fight off the wolves that have attacked me on my journey. This
pouch here is a scrip. It show’s my poverty and that I am a
pilgrim. This robe that I am wearing, is Gods love,’ explained
the pilgrim.
‘Yes, yes I understand,’ said the
Landlord, lapping it all in. ‘And where did you start your
journey, friend?’
‘Not far from here, by St. Sernin,’ said
the Pilgrim.
‘Then why did you not go there?’ said the
Landlord.
‘I am committing penance, I have sinned,
and if I would wish not to set off on the path to Hell, then I
must do this.’
‘Where did you go then?’ said the
Landlord.
‘As I said before, I travelled to the
Rome.’
‘Ah, yes, but why?’ said the Landlord.
‘Saint Peter, the keeper of the keys.’
‘What exactly happened on your journey?’
‘I set off from Toulouse, paying a visit to
St. Sernin. I travelled to Turin, with a few other pilgrims.
Robbers, and marauders beset us. I then travelled to Parme and
Lucques alone. I was attacked by wolves many times during this
period. At one point I thought I wouldn’t make it.’
The pilgrim lifts his broad-brimmed hat,
which was shadowing his face. It showed 3 ugly diagonal scars,
masking his face.
‘In Parme, the food was good, and the
accommodation was satisfactory. The local people however were
appalling and language barrier made the blockade between me and
the local’s even greater. But even with this, they would hide
you still. In Lucques, everything was opposite. The locals were
friendly, but would stab you in the back if the need be! The food
was awful, and the accommodation was worse. I soon made it to
Rome.’
‘What did you see in Rome?’
‘In Rome I saw sight’s I would of never
seen here in Toulouse. They sold me thing’s called
‘postcards’ you can send a letter to your loved ones with a
picture on the front! People dragged me off the streets, they
wanted me so much to stay in their inns! It was amazing. I also
got this, as you seen before.’
He took out the bottle of water and gave it
to the Landlord.
‘It’s Holy Water,’ said the Landlord
with a whisper.
‘Yes, it has saved my life more than once.
God Bless,’ he said to the Landlord and left with his Holy
Water. |
