A Matter of Life And Death

The shadowed figure came over the hill and looked down upon the valley farm. It was so different from the city he had been in for the past few days- more green, more alive. The city had been terrible, and too busy for him. It was all work, work, work, and no beautiful views to savor as a reward. It had welcomed him into its squalor and horridness, invited him to wallow in the filth. Of all the places he had visited, the city had been the worst. The announcement that he could leave was sweet music to his ears.

The crops grew on the south side, and the house, wells, and stable were on the north. Scattered here and there were little figures dashing about; children. They were everywhere all at once, even in the fields. A few dogs ran about with them, happily panting after the little balls of energy. How the place had changed since the shadowed one had left it- then, it had just been a shack for a house, a mule, and virgin land, unplowed. And Morwen had been swollen up with child when the figure had left- the shadowy figure had never forgiven himself for leaving her in such a state, with only a young Caitlin to help her mould the farm to be what it was today. 

The verdant land had a novel grey speck near the fields. It was a stone set on the far side of the farm which looked like it had never been forgotten, despite it being in the “wild corner” of the pasture. A grave, perhaps. Yes, a grave. He should have remembered, remembered that Morwen’s husband had Died the past spring.

The figure walked calmly down the mountains, trying his best to think of how to introduce himself. That was always the difficult part for him. A hallo? Should I sit in the kitchen and wait? Morwen’s always in the kitchen; I can wait there. Or knock? Whatever I do, I’m sure she’ll be surprised to see me. I’ll wait inside. 

Though the day was clear and he stood in the light, not one of the many children saw him come into the house. A dog barked, but quickly shied away after a pat on the head. It slunk off with its tail between its legs, afraid of the shadowy figure. The guinea hens all scattered away from him, all thoughts of food banished from their minds as they scrambled for the henhouse. Animals had always sensed him- he could never sneak up on them like Morwen could.

The door opened easily at a touch, as it always did- no locks could keep the shadowy figure out. It was a particular talent of his, getting through every measure against him. Nothing could stop him when he set his mind to it.

The kitchen was messy, and supplies cluttered up the counters. There was a long, empty table in the middle, with long plank stools running its length. Some seats had faces scratched into them, and the table was variously stained in spots from years of hearty meals. A high chair stood at one end, next to two stools on the short side of the table. On the other short side, only one stool had a place. The figure was intrigued by this- he had not expected a new head of house on the little farm. He had taken the old one away because he wanted Morwen to be free to run the farm herself- silly Morwen, not realizing the gift he had brought her in taking Alexander Prescott away.

As he had guessed, Morwen came into the kitchen. She was carrying a large bowl full of bread dough, and was about to set it on the long table when she caught sight of the stranger. She gasped sharply, and dropped the bowl. It shattered, sending a million tiny pieces all over the floor, and dropping the dough into the dust and the dirt. 

“Hello Morwen.”

“I know you….. I saw you the night of Alexander’s death!” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the stranger caught every word perfectly and with the clarity of crystal. Her corpulent body shook as she stared at him in utter horror.

“I know you saw me. But let’s sit, and talk for awhile… I am your visitor, after all.”

“If you’re anything, you’re a trespasser!”

“Will you stop and chat with a trespasser then?”

“I will not harbor you in my house. Not again. Not ever. Get out!”

“You have no power over me Morwen. Only God in Heaven does. You telling me to leave will not stop me from my duty.”

“Your duty? Your duty must be to make people suffer and wail then- that’s all you do!” 

“That is not all I do, Morwen. Even you know that's not all. I help complete the circle. And sometimes, people are glad that I exist- why, if I told you every time I brought down a dictator or an assassin you would sing my praises.”

“Gerald was not a dictator- and he wasn't a murderer!”

“No, you’re right. Gerald was a good, noble man. So, naturally, it was time for his reward. And it is my job after all, this moving of souls from one realm to the next…”

“You make people suffer! My aunt Anne, God rest her soul, died of a terrible coughing sickness- suffered to the bitter end- tell me how that is praiseworthy!”

“Oh, Sickness (my dear sister) is different. You’ll have to take that complaint up with her. And I’ll have you know that by the time I arrived at your aunt’s bed, it was a mercy I did.” 

Morwen was silent. This shadowy stranger had a way with words that was infuriating, explaining everything with the suave air of one who knows better than you and knows it. She could tell that there was no fighting him- she had tried before, and Alexander had still died.

“Who did you come for this time? Me?”

“That’s confidential. I keep that to myself. But I can say, that I have showed up early today, because I want to be sure it is my patient’s time. I do my best to prevent accidents in my work.”

“Will you stay for supper?” 

“I’m not sure how long my analysis will take. And I do not take food, as you know.”

“I forgot. You never sleep either.”

“That is true. I simply have no need of eating, nor of sleeping. My duty takes all my time.”

“Well then…” She paused, still shaken, but now more afraid for her children then herself. “I’ll be making dinner then.”

She took the broom from the corner and swept up the glass bits. Her children rarely wore shoes, and she would not let a bleeding foot be the cause of Death’s arrival in her kitchen. Once that was done, she looked at the dough. Taking a knife, she cut away the dusty parts and put them in the dog bowls. The rest she shaped into a loaf and set it in the oven, once the fire was going. Rather than sit around and read, as she usually did, she returned to sweeping the floor. Knowing that Death was standing against the wall in the corner, not ten feet away, her movements were hurried and rough, rather than meditative and long, as they usually were.

The children started to come in when they smelled the bread cooking. There were ten in all, but only nine came in. The tenth was a month old baby, being carried in the arms of his mother, Caitlin Prescott Howell. Caitlin’s long straight hair was fine, and always whipped about in the breeze. She carried her infant in, laughing all the way, and sat on one of the two stools at the far end of the table.

“Owain will be in soon Mama! He’s just come back from the village, and is bringing us some delightful cheeses and grapes! Isn’t that lovely of him?”

“Yes, dear, you’ve got a lovely husband...” Morwen was clearly distracted, and her statement lacked feeling. The fear of Death hung over her face like a cloud.

“Today is such a lovely day! I don’t think there will ever be another like it!”

“No dear… never”

“I picked berries, gave little Elis a bath, and I even weeded the garden and liked it! I hope tomorrow is just as happy as today, for otherwise I shall be inconsolable.”

Beside her at the table were the children, a motley mix of redheads and brunettes. Death watched them shove each other and run around the kitchen before Morwen finally got them to sit down. He heard names shouted about in voices much too large for their bodies, and watched little fistfights and doll-play. Children had always fascinated him. They were just so full of life.

Suddenly, a great shadow fell across the room from the doorway. A loud voice yelled and echoed around the room, like a booming drum.

“I’m home!” 

The place broke into complete pandemonium for a few minutes. All the children were trying to get a hug from their father all at once, and for a minute Death worried that someone would be trampled in the petite mob. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to stay for supper. But no, no one was trampled. Even Death is sometimes forced to wait, and the suspense was killing him.

Caitlin pushed her way through to her husband. Owain was a tall, muscular man, perfect for the farm life of splitting logs, pushing behind the plow, and driving the herds. Death looked on him with envy. He too was full of life, and vigor, while Death was lanky, thin, and lacked the muscle to even kill a butterfly without being ordered by God. As much as Death wanted to bring down Owain’s earthly frame, it was not his time yet. Death could see that Owain would live for years, eventually dying in old age. He wouldn't get to lower that strong body himself- Time would do that. Time had all the fun, Death thought.

Death was even more infuriated when Owain took the seat at the head of the table. Prideful, thought Death; thinking he’s all high and mighty. We both know who makes the food here and keeps the farm running while he does business. And he can do nothing which is not ordained for him. Yet he sits at the head, like he’s the king of the world.

The family ate dinner, and Death looked at each one. Morwen’s eyes followed him around the room, the family often asking what she was looking at. They could not see him; actually, Death was confused as to why Morwen could see him. He had wanted to see her, but not the other way around. Usually he crept up on people, not chatted with them.

His eyes kept returning to two of the party: Caitlin and Eira. Eira was a little bouncing child with a long sheath of red hair that caught the eye like a feathery ruby. She gobbled up her grapes and cheese with enthusiasm, and clutched a little cornhusk doll to her side. Caitlin tried to eat like a lady, and clutched her baby while she ate dinner, pushing her hair out of the way constantly. It was one of these whom Death had come for, but he was not looking forward to bringing her away. She had much to live for- so much. 

“Are you sure that it’s time, Lord?” He cried to the heavens. “Please, give her more time. I do not want her to go before she is ready. I do not want to make a mistake!”

The Lord replied to Death, “She will not go to the fires. She is ready.”

“But she isn’t, I just don’t think-”

“Have I ever not watched over my sheep? I know when they are ready. It is her time.”

Here, Death paused. The Lord continued.

“She is a devout child of mine. It is time that she was reunited with me. She will be even happier in Heaven than she is here. Do you see why I asked you to bring her?”

Death looked at the young woman. He saw what the Lord meant- while she was happy here, she would be happier in Heaven. “Yes, you are right. It is time. May I at least give her a last dinner with her family?”

“I would prefer that you did.”

Death looked at Morwen with a somber smile. “I have my orders, Morwen. Caitlin shall die tomorrow.” Here, Morwen gasped and looked stricken. “But don’t fear for her. The Lord will take her to Heaven after she dies, and she will be happy forever. She said herself, she hopes every day is as good as today, or she will be inconsolable. Well, it shall be for her. She will be reacquainted with her father, and you have no need to grieve. I hope that you have no bitter feelings against me either- I only do as I am told. Goodbye, Morwen. Until we meet again, that is.”

“I never want to see you again. I- I detest you!” Another whisper. This one was laden with tears that Morwen was vigorously trying to keep back.

“Cheer up, Morwen. Some day, I too shall die,