Chapter 1
In which Archibald is chased from the city and finds a little girl among the flowering gooseberries.
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Long ago, when people did not wash often, there lived in a walled city an old eccentric. His name was Archibald. He did not like his neighbors. He thought they were stupid or bad and were annoyed by their noise. Together with his goat he lived in a little house made of wood that he had built himself.
Not far from the church Archibald had set up a stall. There he sold jars of ointment, bottles of herbal drinks and pills for pain.
One fine Sunday in May, Archibald sat behind his stall reading The Human Race is a Farce. The colossal book lay open on his lap. It was bound in dull glossy parchment and bursting with records and stories of the lives of people on earth.
A man looked at the jars and bottles.
'The Devil celebrates in my right leg,' he said. (translation note: i understand what is being said here, but I don't like the way it is sounds. between google and deepL, the various options for translation offer similar results and this feels the best, but still does have a good ring in English. any suggestions appreciated).
As he continued to read quietly, Archibald pointed to a bottle of herbal potion.
'Don't forget to put down a few dimes,' he said.
'Does it help?" the man wanted to know.
'It won't hurt,' Archibald said.
'You look strong and healthy,' the man said. 'What is your secret?'
'Every day I wash my feet in a brook,' said Archibald. 'Every day I eat a plate of goat's milk porridge. And every day I read in this beautiful book. Nothing can happen to me.'
The man put down a few dimes. After uncorking and drinking the bottle, he trudged away with a dragging foot.
Archibald remained engrossed in his book. He didn't notice any commotion in the marketplace.
Magister Aesculaap was striding toward the stall. His fat belly was sticking out jauntily. The bailiff and his two henchmen followed him. A giant sword hung from their belts. The people in the marketplace hurriedly dived aside.
Magister Aesculaap stopped at the stall and bent down to a bottle of herbal potion. Squinting, he looked at the frolicking duckweed.
'This looks like ditch water,' he said.
'It is,' Archibald said without looking up from his book.
Magister Aesculaap bent down to a jar of ointment, lifted the lid, smelled the contents, and coughed grimly.
'Your ointment smells like rancid fat,' he said.
'It's rancid fat, too,' Archibald said.
'And your pills, man, look like rat droppings.'
Archibald licked his index finger wet and turned a page.
'You are guessing, aren't you?" he said.
'I am Magister Aesculaap,' said Magister Aesculaap. 'The Countess and I have decided that you will be driven out of the city.'
Archibald now looked up from his book. He saw that Magister Aesculaap's pipe and broad-brimmed hat were earth black.
'Have you spoken to the Countess recently?" he asked kindly.
'I am her counselor and personal physician,' said Magister Aesculaap. 'I speak to her every day. The Countess loves true medicine. She wants nothing to do with quackery.
'Counsellor and personal physician,' said Archibald, 'that's not bad.'
He laughed and read on.
'How dare you laugh at me,' cried Magister Aesculaap.
'I wasn't laughing at you, Magister Know-It-All,' said Archibald, 'I was laughing at what I have just read in The Human Race is a Farce. Listen, I'll let you hear it.'
Archibald held up his index finger to the lines.
'Beware of pill pushers in black,' he read aloud. 'They give people all sorts of new ailments and want to be rewarded for it. Their heads are as pale and bulbous as a plucked chicken. They sweat all day. They have grown such powerful bellies from eating and drinking so much that they can no longer see their own feet. They give themselves showy Latin names. They know as much about medicine as a monkey knows about the alphabet.'
The church bells began to chime.
Magister Aesculaap shouted, 'Smash the quack's stall to pieces.'
The bailiff and his henchmen drew their swords and smashed Archibald's stall to pieces. The jars and bottles shattered into shards, the pills flew around.
Men and women walked past the broken jars and bottles on their way to the church service. They raised their fists and shouted, "Stab him to death, that old fool.'
Archibald slammed the book shut.
'Don't worry,' he said, 'I'm going already. Can I take my goat with me? And this book? My clothes, pots, pans and my mattress full of fleas?'
The bailiff and his henchmen put their swords in their scabbards.
'Take your rubbish with you,' said Magister Aesculaap, 'and never show yourself again.'
In his little house, Archibald leisurely ate a plate of goat's milk porridge.
He burped vigorously and took a nap.
His goat licked him awake.
'Sofie, we are going on a journey,' Archibald said after a long yawn. 'Together nothing can happen to us. Every day I will have my plate of goat's milk porridge and you will have your fresh leaves.'
Sofie stuck her head out the window and nibbled on a bush.
Archibald loaded his cart full of supplies, pulled a worn leather hat over his ears and picked up his walking stick.
Dead calm, he walked through the deserted streets of the city. His beard fluttered in the wind.
Sofie dragged the cart. Every now and then she bleated.
The wheels creaked and squeaked, the pots and pans rattled.
They crossed the square. From the church, the pious singing of young children sounded.
'Yes, Sofie,' said Archibald, 'even after chasing away a poor bugger, people like to listen to heavenly voices.'
Archibald and his goat trekked through deep valleys and over high hills. After a two-day trek, Archibald decided to follow a stream.
They came to a large forest.
'The Forest of Delusion,' said Archibald, 'I have heard of it. People are terrified of it. They think evil spirits dwell there. What now?
Sofie bleated.
Archibald untied Sofie from the cart.
'I happen to know,' he said, 'that evil spirits hide from old men and goats. Cheer up, Sofie. In this forest we will live. No one will disturb me here while I read in The Human Race is a Farce.'
Sofie stepped to the stream, stretched her neck and quenched her thirst.
Suddenly she raised her head in surprise. She pricked up her ears.
'Do you hear something I don't?' asked Archibald.
Sofie lifted her nose, showing her thick teeth.
Archibald pressed his right ear forward with his index finger and listened. A plaintive cry came to him.
'A human,' Archibald said.
With her wiggly butt, Sofie preceded him.
The crying grew louder.
Sofie and Archibald stopped at a spot full of flowering gooseberries.
Among the gooseberries lay a small child. It wore a white cap and a white jacket with bloodstains on it. Sofie leaned over to the child and nibbled on the gooseberries.
"What are you doing here?" Archibald asked the child.
Hearing Archibald's crackly voice, the child stopped crying.
'An infant, Sofie,' said Archibald, 'do you see the father or the mother anywhere?'
Sofie tilted her head. From her mouth gooseberries stuck out.
Carefully Archibald lifted the child.
'Did someone lose you?' he asked. 'Or left you here? Why are there bloodstains on your jacket? Tell me.'
Archibald saw that the bloodstains were letters.
Care for Mariken, he read.
'You are a girl,' Archibald said to Mariken.
Mariken looked at Archibald. Her eyes were dark and large.
'Your mother asks me to take care of you,' Archibald said.
He pressed his little finger against her lips.
Mariken tried to suck on the little finger.
'That won't help you,' Archibald said.
He put Mariken back between the gooseberries.
Sofie sniffed Mariken's nose. She sank her teeth into the jacket.
'Leave that alone, Sofie,' Archibald said, 'don't act like a goat.'
Sofie let go of the jacket.
Archibald grabbed a pot from his cart, crouched down by Sofie and milked her firmly and lovingly.
Mariken shrieked heartily. Her little legs kicked, her little fists clenched.
Archibald pulled the leather cap off his head. After some searching, he found an awl among his belongings. He pried a hole in the leather and poured the warm milk into the hollow of the cap.
Drops of milk leaked onto Mariken's lips.
The drops were blown away.
Archibald made the hole a little larger. Now he could squirt the milk into her mouth in a thin stream. Mariken smacked and drank the milk. A few times, she grunted with pleasure.
Archibald thought.
'Tell me honestly, Mariken,' he said after a while, 'would you want an old man and a goat for a father and a mother?
Mariken hiccupped.
Archibald and Sofie looked at each other.
'What now?' said Archibald.