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A Taste of History: The path untaken by Sir Walter Scott in his classic Rob Roy
Posted by Trent, Oct 8, 2011. 1250 views. ID = 5029

A Taste of History

Posted by Trent, Oct 8, 2011. 1250 views. ID = 5029
This post was written in 53 minutes.
Indulgent. That is the word that comes to my mind on this piece. But then again, don't all who write do the same? It was because of this one sentence in the book Rob Roy that my oldest son is named Zachary. I would have liked for Wally to have followed the path he pointed to just a little more.
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The sound of the ancient door knocker echoed throughout the courtyard. A voice in my mind was seeking to convince me that this was a fool's errand. I knew that voice, knew it all to well; my father. Since childhood he had sought to control me, why should tonight be any different?

A noise on the other side of the large wooden door swept me back to the present reality. What was I doing here? The caretaker had better things to do than meet my whims at so late an hour. Still, I stood.

As the door opened I questioned my judgement. After obligatory greetings I said to the librarian "My name is Francais Osbaldistone. Mr. Jarvie's sent me here on an errand." "An errand?" the man seemed perplexed, "At this hour?".


"Yes, I am uncertain how long I shall be in the city and he suggested I stop by to do some reading." This seemed to confuse him.

"Mr. Jarvie wants you to do some reading? This is the errand of which you spoke?". The incredulous look of the man caused a smile to reveal my feigned stoicism.

"He thought I looked bored" was my honest reply.

"Well", said the ancient bookkeeper bemused "we can't have that, can we? Come in, come in. Was there anything in particular that Mr. Jarvie prescribed to remove the plague of boredom?"

"The one item that he mentioned did capture my attention; a Mr. Boyd's translation of the Psalms. Do you have a copy here?"

With a pleased countenance the curator gently motioned for me to follow.


As he reached the shelves his weathered hand reached out and removed a handsome volume. Placing it on the table to his right he looked into my face. "Read it well for there is none finer Francais" he remarked as he disappeared down the hallway.

It was not a dust-covered volume as I suspected it might have been. It seemed well used. I opened and began to read.

Mr. Jarvie had been right. I realized, I had to know more of this Rev. Zachary Boyd.

Copyright 2011 Trent. All rights reserved. FifteenMinutesOfFiction.com has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.
 


   
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This post is part of a writing prompt: Fictional Character




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