Blind Man's Shadow

Whos there? I hear you, and dont play yourself for a squirrel. I may be a dotard but I am no fool. Come now, I shant be undone by silence. If you meant to stay secret you should not have stepped on leaves whilst I was on moss.

Come, come, the game is done. Announce yourself. Tis but you and I here, and I an old cripple. You at least are in no danger. Who are you? Do not torment an old man.

How did you spy me, Count?

Count is it? That name is best left to my son, shy one. I have not been the Count in these lands for many years. Come and name yourself now, and tell your business here. This wood is my sons and I would know why strangers tread the grounds with left-footed stealth.

Speak, speak! Be not afraid. I have told you that I am maimed and any fool could see by my whiskers Im older than the trees above us.

I am not to be known, Count. Not my presence nor my name.

You have the sound of an assassin, sir. But that matters little. I cannot fight you nor is there anyone at hand to lend assistance. Since you are not to be known, I suppose I shall have to find a name for you. How sounds Shy to you? No? It seems a good name, but perhaps not for you. Something in your voice rings grim, and Shy, was never so dark and murderous a name as an assassin must need. Shadow then. It is as deadly as Im like to think up, and as shadow is all I see, it shall be an easy name to keep in mind lest I should need to remember it past the sword stroke.

I am not an assassin.

Good, good. Very good. Then I shall indeed call you Shadow and perchance have reason to remember. Now Shadow, Ive helped you with the absence of a name. Will you have me provide a business for you as well? I already guessed assassin, but that did not do. A highwayman perchance, fallen far afield of the highway? Or are you a timid tax-collector? Nay, even were you an assassin Id not be so base as to call you tax-man. Forgive, forgive.

But you are a trenchant fellow. Ah, it is good all the same. Your stoicism makes me feel young, Shadow, for it puts me in the role of father once more, choosing out names and positions for a brand new son. Have you got a father, Shadow? Of course you have. No man calls the Count, Count, unless his father has taught him. Well then, Shadow, since you will tell me naught else, tell me, what did your father teach you?

He told me not to be known.

And at that you have failed him grievously. Now be a good lad, Shadow, and tell an old man a story. Its not long past that I spent my days in the city and heard stories at all turns and read them besides. Give me a story as payment for trespass on my land. Or do your business whatever it may be.

No, I thought not. A tale then, and of your father, Shadow. An old man likes a tale of early fatherhood. It makes him young again.

I do not know how to tell tales.

Nonsense. All men must tell tales, else their sons will grow without wit or sense. Think, Shadow, of a tale your father told you, and tell it to me.