So My Blog Is like the proverbial bus you wait ages for a the next instalment and then two come along at once
The Healer couldn't get warm. He huddled over his tent’s brazier and pulled his bearskin cloak tighter around his shoulders. Outside he heard the sounds of his industrious followers hard at work on a supposedly warm summer's morning. He could hear the notes of his Wife's voice, just out of shot. He couldn't quite hear the words of the conversation but by the tone he could tell his Wife was giving the orders.
He knew he must have been colder. Last winter he had made his own clothes from the pelts of the animals he'd trapped and now it was the height of another summer nearly a full year since he'd left the future.
He knew he was fit he had ensured his diet, and his Acolytes, was the best it could be balanced in nutrition and vitamins. He also knew he wasn't Ill he'd introduced a new type of cleanliness to his immediate world by producing an antibacterial soap and even managing to cultivate some antibiotics. In fact, he was now ahead of his schedule as his army of acolytes grew as word spread that he could heal the sick. Now his followers saw him as touched by the Gods. Finally, having sat there all morning he decided that the cold in his core was a physical manifestation of a mental depression.
‘I should be happy’ he thought, he also thought that telling himself that was useless as he plainly wasn't. Despite his health, despite his curing the sick, despite his plans, despite his very young, very beautiful, very clever, very manipulative Wife.
He decided to address the elephant on his soul. The one the black dog was plainly barking at; Taking a wife had never been part of his plan. He had fantasised about a harem as personal reward to himself for achieving his goals but.. he had fallen in love. Perhaps after spending four months in the cold it was inevitable that he'd fall in love with first human to show him kindness. She was so beautiful and since travelling to the now his first friend.
For some reason he had made the effort to ensure himself she was sixteen before he'd touched her. In fact he'd married her before he'd made love to her. It had just seemed right. He'd thought by marrying her he was rescuing her from The Farmer… The Farmer. He remembered the last look on The Farmer's face before he'd died. It had been disbelief. In fact The Healer couldn’t believe it either. He had not been party to his Bride's mutiny.
He grimaced as he remembered the evening of his wedding night. How half the guests had choked to death whilst the savvy ones, who hadn't eaten the bread, fought desperately or begged for their lives. However old scores were settled and The Healer watched silently as, apparently, in his name, his followers killed those loyal to The Farmer and then blew up a building to access The Farmer's hoard.
The Healer hadn't liked the Farmer especially on learning about his abuse of his Now Wife but he hadn't wished him dead. He had told his Wife as she served him on the farm about his plans to use the knowledge inked on his body to raise an army to conquer the world but he hadn't planned on starting that evening. One of his foremost thoughts was his complicity. He hadn't planned the poison but His Wife had gotten the idea from the tattoos on his fingers. He had thought it prudent to have edible plants tattooed to his right hand’s fingers and poisonous plants tattooed to left hand’s fingers. It had been more than useful in his time in the wilderness and he hadn't thought twice in sharing this knowledge with Now Wife his only friend.
Once the killing had stopped it had been his idea to set the trap for the Housekeeper. And as they rode the cart through the morning mist and an explosion rattled in the distance he knew he had actively taken a life and crossed a line as a human. The guilt of taking a life outweighed the reasoning for his action. Maybe, the thought slipped in, he wasn’t cut out for world domination.
He remembered watching the way The Housekeeper had treated the slaves. He remembered the crucified women and children in the village he had stumbled upon on his first day. His wedding feast wasn't his first taste of a violent world but he couldn't get used to it. He couldn't reconcile.
He remembered the dead children on the streets of Londinium, starving and ignored by rich and poor alike, as if they were an everyday nuisance like pigeons. Upon seeing them he had insisted that all the street children and sick be brought to him his Wife had counselled against it and his acolytes had seemed bemused but followed his demand and now his army was mostly children.
These thoughts had made him feel physically sick as his stomach twisted with anxious guilt. Doubt entered his mind maybe he had got caught up in the how of world domination but had never considered the why.
His Wife came in. “A patrol has captured two men on our land.”
Technically It wasn't their land; they were renting it. The agreement with their landlord was that they would mine his quarry and deliver the stone as rent in exchange for the run of the dilapidated estate and farmlands. Their Landlord had a villa in London and had no problem with the agreement especially as he also got a percentage of the surplus quarried stone which the Healer seemingly used to explain his wealth to anyone who bothered to ask. The Healer hadn't mentioned to his Landlord about the other ores and minerals the now rapidly growing strip mine produced.
“Are they the Landlords men?” The Healer asked his Wife, in Latin, he tried his best to practice the language as often as he could. He had been concerned that their operation might gain attention.
“You had better come and look.” She replied in Latin and then in English added “Bring your Game face.” an expression The Healer had taught her.