You pose profound philosophical questions, Mr. Collins. Are we the masters of our fate, or is our destiny determined by forces beyond our control? As we journey through our long lives, are we observed by intellects vast, cool and unsympathetic, who play with us as their puppets? Consider Lord @messana , who appears to know the future, and who grants boons will ye nill ye to those of us in favour. And the mysterious being known as The Archivist, who, we are told, records our fates and appears at crucial times, uttering dire warnings, but may not be spoken to.
Now this new paradoxical creature, neither mortal nor immortal. His manner is common. He wields, not a sword as befitting one of gentle birth, but a common tradesman’s hammer, yet he arrogantly claims the right to use it on anyone, high or low, who offends his touchy sense of dignity. (He appears when his name is sounded, so I propose that we refer to him as Master Whanker when discussing him.)
The Lady Evelyn reports that she saw him die as a mortal in Beijing, and yet I encounter him two centuries later here in Amsterdam, claiming to be the same. Is he indeed an Immortal, but one who shammed his own death, much as my friend Kit Marlowe did? Consider the series of unfortunate events by which he met his end, an elaborate contrivance worthy of the fancies of the Rabbi Ben Goldberg himself, but which was witnessed by no one else in that crowded tavern. Lady Evelyn may indeed know more, but if she is under an oath of silence, we cannot as gentlemen ask her to break it.
But I left his head in the street, and here he returns, replying in insolent fashion to your letter.
Is some witchcraft involved? Has this strange imp somehow purloined a recipe that allows him to rise from the dead—some vile concoction such as we are told is employed in Scotland, involving eye of newt and tongue of dog? (Apologies, good McBarkruff, @ghoti, for the image.)
However, I may over-think. I recall the principle of ontological parsimony stated by the great scholar William of Ockham, under whom I had the honour of studying. As he famously said, “Entia non sunt multiplicanda sine necessitate.” I believe Master Whanker has given a hint in his message to you, which refers to a debate in the Realm of the Damned regarding an infestation of vermin. Can it be that there are many Whankers crouching in the drains and crannies of our existence, waiting to make mischief? Are they mentioned in the tales from Hamelin? Were some observed in the Crimea in 1343?
Perhaps we need, not a swordsman, but a piper.
Other Pendragon
Knight
