Life of Saint Vir The Headless (Introduction, second go)
In the hundredth year after the ascension of Christ into that heavenly place, and the apostles having traveled throughout the lands performing miracles and preaching the word, many have turned to Him and called Him by name. However, many others have built all manner of temples to worldly things, and worship therein instead.
I am called by the name Vir, a citizen craftsman in the practice of statuary. Some days ago, a citizen called by the name Iratus commissioned me to create a statue of his lately departed father. And so, I set to work. On the first day I completed the legs, on the second the torso, and on the third the arms. On the final day when the work was due completed, I set to work on the head of the figure.
I started the day early, carrying my tools outside, and began to tap my hammer upon the chisel, driving it into the grainy marble. The sun hung low at first, close to the earth, but soon swung higher into its path through the heavens, casting a brilliant white sheen on the ground, and sending a crushing heat atop my shoulders. Each swing of my arm felt as moving about in a thick swamp, and I began to tire.
Nearby was a large vase of wine, and seeing no man to claim it, I fetched it over, and lifting it up towards my mouth, took a deep draught. I immediately felt a warm glow insinuating through my limbs, and dispelling the heavy air from around me. If one gulp of wine had this effect, surely another two or three would even greater increase my vigour, and I might finish my work in half or quarter time. So, I lifted the vase again and took numerous hearty draughts. Then I set back to my work.
Slowly, I felt a rising tide of euphoria building in my chest, and I began to giggle gleefully, the ground spinning and wobbling about before me. I was a sailor standing on the deck of a ship tossing in a rowdy storm, the sea spilling forth over the rails. I stumbled forward, and strong arms caught me. Looking up, I saw the face of the marble statue wearing a stern expression. "Boatswain!" It roared. "Should this man fall over, lash him to the stern and deliver fifty strokes upon the buttocks!" Frightened, I grabbed my tools and stood dutifully, continuing at my work. "Thou sallow-faced sack drinking derelicter of duty." The statue continued, "Boatswain, adhere your eyes to this man's buttocks, should he begin to defecate, throw him overboard." At this, I was able to contain myself no longer. I dropped to the floor, rolling about, my chest heaving in laughter, and I fell asleep.
I awoke to a sharp blow in my ribs, and a muffled shouting. Opening my eyes and sitting up abruptly, I saw Iratus standing above me gesturing off to the side. Looking over, I saw the statue of his father, but to my horror the head of the statue was not of a man with locks of hair, but of a smooth rotund buttocks protruding forth, split midway in a cleft with shaggy hair within.
Before I could explain myself, Iratus grabbed my collar and dragged me unceremoniously into the nearby street, where some citizens were passing by. "This rascal has dishonored my dear father!" He shouted, pointing at me. "I commissioned him to create a statue of commemoration, and he delivered a statue with buttocks for a head!" A crowd had now gathered around us, and many began laughing. "For this cruel mockery, I must demand satisfaction!" Iratus drew his sword and advanced upon me.
Seeing no other option, I drew my sword as well. However, I knew not that the man was employed in turning the grindstone at the imperial barracks, and often tested sharpened blades by slicing blocks of cheese, and was thus familiar with all manners of form in slashing and thrusting. In a flash, he covered the ground between us, and I saw a blur of blue steel before my eyes. I felt no sensation, but the force of the blow launched me upwards, high above the nearby rooftops, before I tumbled back towards the ground, and after rolling over and over, I came to rest upon my chin.
Off to the side I saw a headless corpse. That was strange; I didn't remember a corpse being nearby. It was wearing a handsome green tunic, as the one my wife had recently purchased me. Behind the corpse stood my opponent lounging, his hands resting upon his hips and a playful smile on his face. The fool! Did he think hiding behind a poor corpse would protect him from my forthcoming onslaught? I made an effort to stand, but to my astonishment my legs did not respond. Then, before my eyes, the corpse rose to its feet. My opponent lithely stepped to the side, and used the flat of his blade to smack the rump of the corpse cleanly. It fell over, clutching its behind with both hands in agony. The gathered crowed erupted in laughter. "Who amongst you would like to see this fool thrown deep into the reeking lavatory pit of a nearby tavern?" Iratus shouted, gesturing towards me.
Horrified, I screamed, "Oh dear God! Please preserve me!" My call was answered, for an apothecarean wearing a green apron appeared, bursting through the crowd. "Make way!" He bellowed, "How can such heartless men make a mockery of one so near to death? I will save his life!" He waddled quickly over, and made to grab my hair. However, the stones beneath his feet were damp with the moisture of recent rain, and he slipped clumsily, knocking me over. I fell sideways, and began to roll quickly down a nearby slope, turning faster and faster, and upon hitting a large cobblestone, I was launched high into the air, and through a nearby window.
I landed in a large body of warm water, the air thick with foggy steam. To either side of me, submerged waist-deep, were two elderly men, so stooped and decrepit as seeming mere minutes from death. "What was that sound?" Murmured the one to my left. "Did you release gas?" The one to my right replied. "Come now, a man of your age dawdling in liquor and farting about." The one to my left reached out and scooped me up. "Please sir, you must bring me to an apothecarean," I begged. "I have been attacked by a madman with sword and separated from my body." "It appears to be a talking stone," the elderly man said, squinting his eyes. "Perhaps I should bring it to market and see what price it might fetch?" "Fool!" The other replied. "This thing is clearly a demon, no doubt intending to defile us lasciviously whilst we are unrobed!" He snatched me from the other's grasp, and hurled me back out through the open window.
And so I began rolling down the hill again, and once more striking a large cobblestone, hurled through the air, and into another window. This time, I landed atop a stone anvil, where a smith set about his work. "Please sir," I begged, "An old fart has thrown me out a window, and I require medical attention imminently." The smith looked up. "My friend, you have landed in a most auspicious place! I happen to have completed six months of medical apprenticeship before pursuing my current trade." He then flipped me upside-down and examined my stump closely. "Your neck bone has been clearly severed, leaving a gaping lesion. Should you wish to live, I must cauterize the bone, and prevent your soul from escaping." He turned around and yanked a red hot iron from the furnace. "Not to worry my friend, you shan't feel a thing." Then, he smacked me upside the head with the hot iron.
By the Almighty, a jolt of fire flared within my skull, and my vision became pure white! My ears filled with the sound of a ringing bell, and I neither heard nor saw a thing. I knew my days were at an end and I began to ruminate. Would my Lord be cross with me for my act of drunken foolishness? Had my wife received payment from Iratus, and gone to the market to purchase bread for our children? I awaited my judgment with timidity.
But behold, I did not die! When I regained my good senses, I saw that my polymathic friend had indeed saved my life, and I was in good spirit. However, now being only a head and having no arms and legs, I can neither walk nor use tools, and thus my former trade is closed off from me. However, my speech and sight remain, and I can even ambulate freely about. By striking my chin upon the ground, I can hop about as a happy frog in a swamp, and by wiggling my nose, I can roll freely this way and that, as a leather ball that children kick in the street.
Thereby, I have decided to take up my calling as a missionary of God, and so investigate the variegated temples which the unbelievers have built, and commune with them therein.