Birgitta the Nun

Part 20 - The Merchant

"So, what is it that you're selling?" she asked, finally acknowledging she was now someone's company. She would give it a try - at least for five minutes - and make some kind of polite conversation.

"I mostly do the buying," the merchant replied.

"Oh—and is that a lucrative business?" the abbess continued, indeed sounding very polite.

"No—not really. It takes money to buy things."

"But of course—and you sell in your turn, some of the things you buy?"

"No."

"But—" the abbess hesitated. She didn't get it.

"I do a lot of dealing, that's all—keeping the balance," the merchant offered. "And I come in handy a lot, fix things, solve problems."

"And where do you keep your objects then?" the abbess asked. "Your finds?"

"Here and there, wherever they're useful."

"But they are yours?" the abbess insisted.

"Yes," the merchant also insisted.

"But—you do not use them?"

"I use what I need, like this old cart and this fine nag."

The abbess didn't understand. But she was no merchant and she had never made a trade. It seemed like a lot of work though, this dealing and fixing things. How could one find the energy, the motivation?

"Do you have kids then?" the abbess wondered. "A lot of mouths to feed?"

"I probably have fewer kids than you do," the merchant replied, pointing to the fact of talking to a nun.

The abbess was impressed. It seemed the merchant kept toiling for no apparent reason. Maybe just because she felt like it. It was a kind of freedom the abbess had never heard of before.

"I am a mother, but I don't have any children," the abbess offered.

"Do you miss it?" The merchant turned to inspect the nun.

"I have cats, and sisters."

"Oh—well, then you're all set." The merchant again turned to the road, then, "A cat is not a horse, but it's a fine animal. As for sisters, I wouldn't know."

"You've got a brother?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"That's alright," the merchant replied. "Somebody's got to take care of my parents. And he's doing a decent job, when he's not complaining. Or spending their money—"

The abbess fell silent. She didn't know about spending money. She didn't know if she were missing out, or if she should be relieved. However, she did know about spending time - she had had a lot of time to spend. But if they were one and the same in the end, time and money, she didn't know.

The journey continued in silence. In no rush whatsoever, the nag brought her passengers further and further along the road. Her walk was slow but firm. It was a quiet adding up of strides, one hoof at a time, carefully put in front of the other, eventually creating a journey.

"Mesmerizing, is it not?" the merchant said after some time. She didn't turn to the abbess with her question, but looked about her, at the wilderness surrounding her cart, and nodded to herself.

"What's that?" the abbess replied.

"The landscape," the merchant continued, nodding towards a vast field spreading along the road and yonder, "Mother Nature—isn't it fabulous? I do enjoy being a traveller when views like thees are offered—mhmm, indeed." And like an artist painting a picture, she waved her arm and described their environments.

The abbess didn't answer. She didn't understand the question. "Mother Nature" would have a hard time impressing the abbess. She shuddered as she observed the flat wasteland now surrounding them, clinging to the cart, as if to the last remnants of civilization. Everything around the precious vehicle was barren, deserted and enormous.

The blank stare of the abbess fell at nothing in particular as she tried to see what the merchant saw. But nothing. The views were shut to her.

The merchant observed her passenger and shook her head, "You can't just glance at the world. You have to look at it—observe it, and try to study it."

The abbess made an effort. Then, with a tired expression, "I see a horse if that's what you're after? Here, right in front of me—very broad over the hips—" But a serious look from the merchant told her to check herself.

"Try again."

"Eh," the abbess faltered, darting her eyes about the cart, "stones?"

"You know—it's really not that hard," the merchant said with a queer laugh. "Maybe you just need time to adjust. Look—to your left," she pointed, but kept her eyes on the abbess. "The field—do you see that field?"

"Yes—yes, of course I see a field," the abbess replied, rather annoyed. "What of it?"

"Sure, you see a field," the merchant continued, "it's a vast thing—but do you really SEE it?" She turned away from the abbess to take the landscape in. "Do you see the colors? Do you see a rich field painted in the most glorious shades of green? Do you see the rainbow-colored bugs? there, they scuttle along thin, but strong, straws of grass? And over there, do you see that brilliant red fox? It's lost out of the woods, looking for its lair—" The merchant stopped to smile. "Look—look at that gray cat stalking some cows in that pen, do you see? The cows in their turn are stalking some cranes crossing their field. And the cranes in their turn are running after their chicks, making constant course corrections not to scatter their little family. It's an outright circus—"

The abbess didn't reply. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all, getting lift by some stranger? Who knew conversation could be such an exhausting thing? She closed her eyes and leaned against the frame of the cart, trying to get some rest. The merchant didn't persist but again turned to the road.