His name was Elmer, at least that was what he called himself these days. This once-elegant gentleman of forty-two summers had steely gray eyes that, as it had been said in his youth, conveyed a certain coldness. His silky, straight, prematurely whitened hair was worn loose about his shoulders. In these past two years, he never bothered to tie it back as was the fashion. His angular, handsome face was obscured by a full gray beard and a thick moustache. Elmer was of average height and weight, although he had become much thinner. The skin, once pale and smooth, was now roughened by constant sun exposure, something he never allowed in youth. His thin lips parted to reveal a row of jagged teeth – teeth that were once perfectly white and straight. The clothes on his back were threadbare and dingy. Before leading a life of destitution, Elmer dressed in rich brocades and silks, every last detail carefully selected to reflect his refined lifestyle.
So what happened? How did Elmer, a man born into wealth and privilege end up as a poor, ragged beggar? A man living life hand to mouth, not knowing from where his next meal would come. What events caused him to abandon everything he ever knew? Only he could answer that, and even then he couldn't bring himself to tell the whole story.
It had been two years since he inexplicably left the comfort of his home in the city. He often wondered if his family or friends ever took it upon themselves to find him, that is if they believed he still lived.
Shaking his head again, as if to expel the memory of the real reason behind his flight from his former life, Elmer carefully removed the huge rock covering his special hiding place. It was a makeshift vault – just a small recess in the cavern floor to be exact – used to keep what few valuables safe from prying eyes.
After removing the rock, Elmer rummaged around that recess, his hand finally feeling the familiar plush texture of that velvet bag. He pulled the bag from its depository then opened it. The bag, of fine black velvet and tied with fading blue silk ribbon, contained the last vestige of Elmer's former life: a ring.
In this drab dwelling, in the dreariness of overcast skies and drizzle, the ring was the only thing of beauty.
It was an extraordinarily gorgeous piece of jewelry, its design exquisite beyond compare. The ring was a solid band of the finest gold, expertly wrought with intricate filagree. Dominating it was an emerald of the deepest, clearest green, a stone of immense size and luster. Elmer examined this ring, the only thing from his past he managed to salvage during his flight. Why keep this when there was so much he could have taken with him? Why hang on to this obviously highly priced gem that could, if he wanted to sell it, fetch a nice tidy sum. At least Elmer would not have to live as a hermit, not have to wear tattered clothes, not have to beg for a measly morsel of bread or a bottle of stale wine.
He didn't think of that. He wanted to hang on to this piece, not sell it. This was the only connection he had to his former life. Upon Elmer's sixteenth birthday, the ring was a gift from his father. Elmer recollected the day he received it, that it had been in the family for four generations. Quite a legacy, and Elmer wondered if he had a son, would he continue the tradition. Not in this life, as Elmer was widowed young; his lovely wife of three years died in childbirth, the baby expiring a few hours after delivery.
So he resigned himself to grieve over his lost love and child. However, there was the promise of a new love, a beautiful woman named...Well, he could not quite recall her name; it had been so long ago, but not that distant as he had just met the woman days before...
Catastrophe struck the day he was to ask her to become his wife. He did not want to relive those harrowing days. All he could recall was frantically trying to get out of the city. Everything he knew and loved was falling apart; he had to get out. Already, his beloved had been captured; perhaps she is dead by now. And what became of another lady he tried to protect? He never knew her fate. It had been two years since he last saw either lady, and he felt somewhat guilty leaving them behind, saving himself only to spend the remainder of his days in a hard-scrabble existence.
What does it matter now? At least he was safe. No one would ever find him here. No one in these parts would ever recognize him; his present appearance alone prevented just that. Even the people in the nearby village of Caché (odd name for a tiny village, but it seemed apropos) didn't know his true identity. For what it was worth, the villagers knew him as "Elmer", a wayfaring beggar who settled in these parts, albeit temporarily. He told them his home was in England but came to this country on a merchant ship.
Elmer didn't elaborate much other than claiming to be an orphan and fed up with his former life as a apprentice to a local minor merchant. He also explained that he had lost the love of his live, thus necessitating abandoning all he ever knew. He just wanted to get away, away from nosy people who always seemed to bother him with petty business. So the villagers took pity on the beleagured, grief-stricken man. They were somewhat taken aback at Elmer's literacy, a rarity in these parts as the majority of people around here could barely sign their own names. The good villagers also marvelled at Elmer's artistic tastes. He often told them of his adventures and brushes with the great composers of the day. So many times he could be heard humming lovely strains of Handel and Mozart, two men who Elmer claimed to have met long ago.
Elmer, now sated from his sparse meal, thanked God the rain finally stopped. It was getting late; darkness would fall soon. Now was the time for sleep. Come morning, he'd be on his way, making his daily trek to Caché, looking forward to those good people's generosity and kindness. Even in these unsettled times, the villagers, most of them barely existing on so little, managed to scrounge enough spare food and money. In a way, it made Elmer that more appreciative of those born under less than privileged circumstances. Perhaps, some day when the rabble of war settled, he could return to his former life, but it would have to be elsewhere. Maybe he could travel to the land he claimed as his birthplace. At least there he had a few contacts, friends of his family who could take him in, get him reacquainted with the posh life he left behind.
In the waning hours of daylight, Elmer replaced the precious ring in its velvet bag then returned the treasure to its hiding place. Spreading a blanket upon the stony cavern floor, Elmer laid down to sleep. Before drifting off, he said a prayer for his dead wife and child. He also asked God to watch over the two ladies he had come to love. One was nearly his wife; the other a cherished friend who now faced an uncertain future.
Elmer wrapped himself in the thin blankets, warding off the damp autumn chill. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, then quickly drifted into a sound slumber.
He had no idea he was being watched.
TO BE CONTINUED...Go to Part II
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