Sentence The Twohundredandseventh
And The Hunter told his Tale, while Bernie – she had introduced herself to him and he, Thomas, to her – sat at his feet and listened: “I came from a village, not very far from here, where I lived with my Goodwife and three Daughters, in a fine house, well, it's a Tower, but nothing overly grand; it was my Great Grandfather built it and it hasn't changed much since his time – just different people living in it I suppose, but it's gone now, everything has gone, there is no sign that there ever was such a place as Ercildoune, or my Goodwife and Daughters; I looked for it, once the Cave Folk trusted me to venture forth and return, but becoming The Hunter helped, for I have a useful purpose and contribute to the food store; so when I walked to the place where my house stood, I could see no sign of it, not a stone, nothing! and the village is gone too – not simply razed to the ground as was done in the wars of times past, though that is heartless and dreadful to behold, but eradicated completely – you would never think a people once lived there, my heart was torn and I sat there and wept, for my Goodwife and my Daughters, not knowing what terrible event had occurred and taken them away, and so I came back here, for so far as I can tell, this is all there is; and I apologise for such a rambling circumlocution, I have not spoken of these things in all my ten years here, indeed, nor have I said so many words for so long I am struggling to find the words to express what I mean, too” and Bernie reached up and took his hand and said: “I do not know if this will be an emollient for you, for I have lost those I love also, or if it will only cause you further bewilderment and torment – and you must excuse my circumlocution, for I do not know of any simple way to say what I believe I know to be truth, because I don't know if we are in the Far Future or the Distant Past, but I believe you came here in the year 1250 or thereabouts,” Thomas smiled, “you are a Witch? it was the Year of Our Lord Twelve Hundred and Fifty Two – how can you know this?” and it was Bernie's turn to laugh, “because I've
read Sir Walter Scott's Ballad – 'True Thomas'," and she quoted: “'True Thomas lay on Huntlie Bank, a ferlie he spied wi' his e'e, and there he saw a lady bright come riding down by the Eildon Tree,' I think that's how it starts,” and Thomas' mouth hung open: “who says this? I know of no Walter Scott, though Michael Scott passed a night under my Father's roof the year before I was born – but he was on his way to Rome and I never met him; there is some truth in it, the last I knew of was on Huntlie Bank, that much is true, but never a ferlie or a lady bright was seen by my eyes: I was set about by a band of ruffians, who wanted to rob me – though I had but little upon my person, save only a few coins worth perhaps a Mark and some bread – but they did not believe me and the last I remember was that I had been knocked to the ground, and a mighty man stood over me with a great club in his hand which he swung down towards my head – a searing pain, then darkness, and when I opened my eyes I was here; at first I thought these were just travelling folk who were sheltering me, but once I was able to move about and see my own hills in the distance – I wondered, for never has anyone been in a Cavern in these hills; is this what you wished to learn?” and Bernie took his hand and nodded - “do not fear that you underwhelm me with your tale, for yes, Thomas, it all fits, you, me, Tavish and perhaps this other man, have suffered a life-threatening event and woken here, what confuses it is: you look more like a man in your thirties, not forties – there are no mirrors, or looking glasses here, and I doubt you will have found your reflection in the Tweed, or a pond of much use; my Mum used to watch a movie – okay, rewind, my Mum liked a story about a mysterious Valley, called Shangri La, where everything was perfect, only the people never grew older than they were when they arrived in it – I don't know if this applies to the children, but otherwise it's kinda similar; Tavish and I come from the 21st Century 800 years after you, in Years of Our Lord, and you say you have already been here ten years; there's something in quantum physics about this but I don't understand it – but so far as I can remember, from the Ballad, you are supposed to have spent ten years in Fairyland, and return to your own time with the gift of Prophecy, and got the nick-name 'True Thomas' either in later life or after you died, perhaps a conflated epicedium, because your prophecies came true – does any of this make sense to you?” and Thomas laughed, a deep throaty laugh: “well, if this is Fairyland, I've just lost my Faith in them; and I don't understand a lot of what you say, it's too much for my poor head to take in, it was easier to think you a Witch, but if you can explain it all to me more slowly, and maybe after we attend to these fellows, I will do my best to understand what you say, for in truth, this place is a very strange one to me!”
And The Hunter told his Tale, while Bernie – she had introduced herself to him and he, Thomas, to her – sat at his feet and listened: “I came from a village, not very far from here, where I lived with my Goodwife and three Daughters, in a fine house, well, it's a Tower, but nothing overly grand; it was my Great Grandfather built it and it hasn't changed much since his time – just different people living in it I suppose, but it's gone now, everything has gone, there is no sign that there ever was such a place as Ercildoune, or my Goodwife and Daughters; I looked for it, once the Cave Folk trusted me to venture forth and return, but becoming The Hunter helped, for I have a useful purpose and contribute to the food store; so when I walked to the place where my house stood, I could see no sign of it, not a stone, nothing! and the village is gone too – not simply razed to the ground as was done in the wars of times past, though that is heartless and dreadful to behold, but eradicated completely – you would never think a people once lived there, my heart was torn and I sat there and wept, for my Goodwife and my Daughters, not knowing what terrible event had occurred and taken them away, and so I came back here, for so far as I can tell, this is all there is; and I apologise for such a rambling circumlocution, I have not spoken of these things in all my ten years here, indeed, nor have I said so many words for so long I am struggling to find the words to express what I mean, too” and Bernie reached up and took his hand and said: “I do not know if this will be an emollient for you, for I have lost those I love also, or if it will only cause you further bewilderment and torment – and you must excuse my circumlocution, for I do not know of any simple way to say what I believe I know to be truth, because I don't know if we are in the Far Future or the Distant Past, but I believe you came here in the year 1250 or thereabouts,” Thomas smiled, “you are a Witch? it was the Year of Our Lord Twelve Hundred and Fifty Two – how can you know this?” and it was Bernie's turn to laugh, “because I've
read Sir Walter Scott's Ballad – 'True Thomas'," and she quoted: “'True Thomas lay on Huntlie Bank, a ferlie he spied wi' his e'e, and there he saw a lady bright come riding down by the Eildon Tree,' I think that's how it starts,” and Thomas' mouth hung open: “who says this? I know of no Walter Scott, though Michael Scott passed a night under my Father's roof the year before I was born – but he was on his way to Rome and I never met him; there is some truth in it, the last I knew of was on Huntlie Bank, that much is true, but never a ferlie or a lady bright was seen by my eyes: I was set about by a band of ruffians, who wanted to rob me – though I had but little upon my person, save only a few coins worth perhaps a Mark and some bread – but they did not believe me and the last I remember was that I had been knocked to the ground, and a mighty man stood over me with a great club in his hand which he swung down towards my head – a searing pain, then darkness, and when I opened my eyes I was here; at first I thought these were just travelling folk who were sheltering me, but once I was able to move about and see my own hills in the distance – I wondered, for never has anyone been in a Cavern in these hills; is this what you wished to learn?” and Bernie took his hand and nodded - “do not fear that you underwhelm me with your tale, for yes, Thomas, it all fits, you, me, Tavish and perhaps this other man, have suffered a life-threatening event and woken here, what confuses it is: you look more like a man in your thirties, not forties – there are no mirrors, or looking glasses here, and I doubt you will have found your reflection in the Tweed, or a pond of much use; my Mum used to watch a movie – okay, rewind, my Mum liked a story about a mysterious Valley, called Shangri La, where everything was perfect, only the people never grew older than they were when they arrived in it – I don't know if this applies to the children, but otherwise it's kinda similar; Tavish and I come from the 21st Century 800 years after you, in Years of Our Lord, and you say you have already been here ten years; there's something in quantum physics about this but I don't understand it – but so far as I can remember, from the Ballad, you are supposed to have spent ten years in Fairyland, and return to your own time with the gift of Prophecy, and got the nick-name 'True Thomas' either in later life or after you died, perhaps a conflated epicedium, because your prophecies came true – does any of this make sense to you?” and Thomas laughed, a deep throaty laugh: “well, if this is Fairyland, I've just lost my Faith in them; and I don't understand a lot of what you say, it's too much for my poor head to take in, it was easier to think you a Witch, but if you can explain it all to me more slowly, and maybe after we attend to these fellows, I will do my best to understand what you say, for in truth, this place is a very strange one to me!”
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