October 1, 1217
Hello Jenn:
The last few months have been rather depressing for me. I lost a friend
and his memory still haunts me. Gustav was a good man, kind and caring
but troubled by his past, maybe in the same way that I'm tormented by
my past deeds.
I got to know him this last Spring. Finally, I thought that I had
gotten the hang of handling Yellow Dancer, the horse I've been using. I
don't remember his real name but mine is much better in any case.
Anyway, I wanted to learn how to ride him properly so I asked around
and got pointed to Gustav.
A quite guy, almost shy, he gently coaxed me through the lessons and I
haltingly learned how to ride Yellow Dancer. Gustav always seemed to be
embarassed to be with me, and at one point he said that he was too
gruff and unpolished to be with someone like me. Nonsense! I choose who
I want to be with, you well know that Jenn.
So I decided to befriend him. He was so lonely. A fugitive from his
homeland, unfairly accused of treason. His dedication to duty had led
him to this faraway haven. We'd often talk about his life in Northern
Spain and the adventures he had been in.
I think I was happy. I'm not too sure. You know me better than I do
myself. You've said that I go through life as an observer, afraid to
get involved with anyone. Not wanting to fully live, and yet acting out
the part of the happy-go-lucky gregarious bard with the hep attitude.
Sometimes I don't know if I actually feel something real or it's just
part of my act.
A couple of trick-or-treaters came by our place in early June. They had
a message for Lorum, after which he decided to travel to Germany to
stop some nemesis of his. Al and I volunteered to go, Mr. Bus because
he had grown up in that area and me because I had been cooped up too
long in our monastic home. Gustav also volunteered, telling me that
someone had to protect me from the monsters. I laughed at that: Gustav
was really coming into his own.
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We travelled
by boat up the east coast of Spain. There were nine of us,
in total. The skies clear, the air sea-smell laden, quite peaceful.
Some luminous seaweed amused us one night. I sang and played for the
crew, and of course flirted incessantly.
The storm hit us at night, so I'm told. Truthfully, I don't remember
much. You know I sleep like the dead, and I'm really bad in the
morning. I remember Gustav waking me up, water already quite deep in
the cabin. He mentioned something about shipwreck and attacked, then
pushed me outside. Pointing to shore, he pushed me over the edge.
Water cold, choking. No air, no light. The sound, deafening. I don't
know how I made it to shore. I don't remember anything else about that
night. Except that Gustav was dead. His body must have washed up to
shore. He was all torn up from the rocks. I think I threw up.
My mind shut down. I barely recall anything that happened in the next
month. We got to Germany and emerged victorious. Lorum gave me a huge
chunk of gold, part of our spoils he said. I just stared at it,
thinking: this is what Gustav died for?
The next morning I made up my mind. I told the others. They offered to
accompany me, but I refused. This I had to do alone. Maybe I also
wanted time to grieve on my own. Strange, we don't deal with death back
at the village. Trancer or somebody else is always there to patch you
back up. I needed time to handle these feelings.
The journey to Santiago came and went. The deal went through remarkably
smoothly -- funny how a lot of money can cure almost anything. At least
Gustav won't be remembered as a traitor. I think it was the least I
could do.
Farewell, dear heart.
Always faithful,
Larissa |