Life of Saint Vir The Headless (Introduction)
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 seemed to spin and wobble about, as if standing on the deck of a ship tossing in a storm, and I could barely hold my arms steady. And how strange! The statue itself seemed to wink and begin laughing alongside me. Unable to contain myself any 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 sheep with shaggy wool, wide eyes, and open mouth. It looked to be bleating in laughter!
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 dearly departed father!" He shouted, pointing at me. "I commissioned him to create a statue of commemoration, and he delivered a statue with the head of a bleating lamb!" 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 fell and tumbled over once, my chin landing upon the ground.
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. Realizing what had happened, I screamed, "Oh dear God! Please preserve me!"
My call was answered, for a burly man wearing a black smock burst through the crowd; he grasped a red hot iron in one hand. "Make way," he bellowed "I must cauterize his lesion!" He waddled over quickly, and deftly grabbing my hair, lifted me up and slid the hot iron beneath me. By the Almighty, a jolt of fire flared within my skull, and my vision became pure white! The roar of the multitude faded as the sound of waves crashing on the shore, 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 had not died! When I regained my good senses, I saw that indeed I lived and 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.