XXIX.

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state

There on the broken courtyard bench sat Jacques, muttering to himself and wholly lost in thought. One would notice his stooped shoulders and gnarled fingers that curled protectively around something small. Every now and then, he would look around like a pitiful street urchin, as if a dog that had been whipped across the hind-legs. A few minutes would drift by before he would start sighing all over again.

‘Ah ahh ahhh! What have I done!’

‘Old man! What are you doing here again?’ a young timid man asked him, walking up the path that led from a nearby residence.

‘What have I done wrong again?’ the old man muttered to himself.

‘If you told me I might solve your problems’, the young man urged.

The ancient looked at him in the eyes, his flame yellowed gaze sparkling like aged home brew. His gaze was mocking at first, testing the young man’s will, and then turned away despairingly.

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,

‘Pah, you’re just a young man. What do you know? Pooh, you care for nothing else but lazy company, wrenching and bad wine.’

The young man winced, as if the ancient had hit on a sore spot. Silence ensued for a while, as he attempted to gather his courage.

‘Maybe I can help you? I’ve seen you sitting here every day and yes, since you’re always near my family’s property, you can say that I’m curious,’ the young man paused for a while, considering hard, ‘do you happen to have any relations around here? Sons? Daughters? A wife perhaps?’

‘So what do you know about me, eh? You’re just one of those good for nothing scholars, corrupting your father’s name and spending his fortune.’

‘But, I’m not like that dear sir.’

‘Oh ho, don’t you call me sir. The very next thing you’ll be praising me to the heavens with some ridiculous your Majesty. Yes, I know your kind.’

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;

The young man frowned, slightly incensed. Was there no right for him to be curious about those about and around him? He tasted a bitter sensation in his mouth and continued to ponder the case of a strange tramp. Yet, he felt that the ancient was not a tramp at all – no! In fact, he was far from that. The young man sensed a thread of boldness within the tramp. The young man couldn’t explain it at all – and most of all, he couldn’t understand why he felt an affinity with the ancient.

‘I know that you’re looking for answers, young man,’ the old man said slowly, ‘but cannot find them. I too am searching.’

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

The young man started slightly and shifted his feet uncomfortably, which caused the leaves under his feet to crackle. For the first time, he noticed that autumn was nearly over. How could he fail to notice before?

A hardened, pained voice spoke. ‘I lost my wife in an accident. An accident was what I told myself. Yet, I could not believe it and I still cannot,’ the ancient glanced over at the young man and continued ‘before that, I was a mad man. A man mad fuelled by rage because I looked to this worldly society as a guide.’

The young man stared at his feet. Now, he was truly sorry about interfering in the affairs of others, especially old tramps. ‘Oh, oh! I am a fool!’ he berated inwardly.

Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

‘Yet, do you know something? My only hope was in a son, who has long since forgotten. Or maybe he is still chased by shadows of the past. I had sold everything after my dear wife’s accident – no, murder, I’ll never forget it. Enough of lies.’ The ancient grabbed the young man by the collar roughly, and quite suddenly, frightening the wits out of him.

‘Do you know that I gave him up to another family to nurture? He doesn’t remember me as he was a tiny creature when he went away. I passed by the residence day and night since. Waiting, forever waiting, like a hideous monster afraid to meet his very own son,’ then softly adding, ‘my own blood too.’

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

The young man’s face lit up, suddenly, anxiously. ‘I know how to help you sir! I’ll get your son for you. It’s simple. Just tell me where he lives.’

Moistened eyes pored over the face of the young man, constantly watching. ‘There’s nothing you can do, all is settled.’ The ancient’s hand moved in a quick gesture of release. Blue tinged wings specked with yellow fluttered, then flitted away along the weeded path.

The young man looked at the old man’s hands, so like his own, and all became clear.