Wood Nymph and the Cranky Saint- Wizard of Yurt - 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

people’s flocks, he felt he had to do something.’
    “He should have caled on a wizard,” I provided. “I know there were wizards, even back then.”
    Other than giving me a quick look, he paid no attention to my interruption. “Saint Eusebius took his crucifix and went to face the dragon, to command it in the name of Christ to leave the area.”
    “But, Joachim, you know that wouldn’t work. It might work with a demon, but dragons aren’t inherently evil, just magic.” It was harder this time for him to ignore my interruption, but he managed. “Inspired by the devil, the dragon began to eat the holy man. But a desperate group of peasants had banded together, armed with spears and meat hooks. When the dragon tried to swalow the saint, it miraculously began to gag and choke on him. While the dragon was thus occupied, the peasants burst out of hiding and attacked it. One of them got in a lucky stroke with a meat hook and pierced the dragon’s throat at the one spot where it was vulnerable.’
    He paused as though the horror of it were almost too much. “But they were too late to save Saint Eusebius. Al that remained of him was his left big toe.” I felt rather proud that I did not even smile. “And so they preserved the relic at the hermitage where he had lived,” I said, “and subsequent generations of hermits have succeeded Eusebius there ever since. Is that it? But what do you have to investigate now?”
    “Saint Eusebius was always a rather, wel, difficult—if holy—man, even while he was alive. Now, fifteen hundred years after his death, some say he’s a difficult saint.”
    “What do you mean, difficult?”
    “WeD,” said Joachim after an almost imperceptible pause, “here’s an example. A lady, a very lovely and vain one, went to his shrine to pray for help in overcoming her faults. The saint began with her vanity, by putting a giant wart on her nose.”
    I could see the problem. What was the church supposed to do when the forces of good turned out to be a real pain?
    Joachim hurried on without waiting for a response. “His, uh, difficult nature is why the bishop sent me here. Certain priests, in a church two hundred miles from here, have written to the bishop. They say that Eusebius appeared to them in a vision, saying that he was ‘fed up with having his relics at this shrine, and that he wanted his toe to be preserved at their church.” Although a saint who induced giant warts had seemed to have promising possibilities, the situation now sounded like the confusing and dangerous churchly concerns they used to warn us against at the wizards’ school. “If he’s been dead so long, why does it matter where his toe is?” I asked irritably.
    Joachim answered with infuriating patience. “The saints are stil here with us on earth at the same time as they are in heaven. Even you must know that.”
    “But why would priests in a distant city want an old dead saint’s toe anyway?”
    Joachim sighed. “This may be hard for you to understand. Their church, the church where Eusebius originaly made his profession, has wanted his relics for fifteen hundred years. He was a priest in their city, the son I believe of a provincial administrator under the empire, before he came to this valey to become a hermit.” A city boy like me, I thought, or at least like I used to be.
    “After the saint was martyred,” Joachim continued, “the priests there rededicated their church in his
    name.
    “But that was al so long ago!”
    Joachim shook his head with the air of someone who had known al along that I wouldn’t understand. “Individuals forget and individuals die. But churches are undying institutions and they never forget.” He took a deep breath. “But you don’t need to worry about either the saint or the hermit who lives there now. That’s my responsibility. I want you to worry about the wood nymph.” He stood up and took the offending bridle with bels off his horse. In a few moments, with our