Chapter the Second, in which we Learn Mr Oats is Familiar with the Bonk School.
I realize now there are a number of 'ass' puns in the text. They are not deliberate, honestly. So I've decided to let them stand and for readers to make up their own minds. Mr Oats does.
Ned had enjoyed the food laid down by his master, though as a wise ass who had been with Mr Oats for some years he was also quite capable of finding his own forage without straying far. It hadn't been a rapid journey from the plains. Mr Oats travelled at the speed of his ass, which was slower than the pace of the average man, but the priest was wise enough to put up with this, (1) learning, teaching, 'hatching, matching and dispatching' (2) as he went – and sometimes confronting evils or dangers with Forgiveness in a very direct way. The books Mightily Oats wrote also helped to finance the search for wisdom that his wandering ministry had become. (3)
Ned had noticed the departing soldier, but was aware the man was leaving. He wasn't spooked as a horse or a less experienced ass might have been. A man leaving the camp was no threat from his point of view.
The two men began to settle for the night. Pastor Oats and Mr Cutter agreed that Mr Cutter would sleep until midnight while the cleric took first watch.
With his companion settled and, an hour into the first watch, Hickory Cutter sleeping, Mightily Oats began to quietly pray for guidance, though not directly to Om. (4)
'Oh mighty one, (5) I seek advice on the path to follow among these men, and though signs are rarely granted to priests of my faith, I humbly request a signpost to the direction I must take.'
In the quiet watches of the night strange things can happen. Even when your camping companion is snoring like a bear in a cave.
Pastor Oats was looking out for dangers of the forest. Hungry bears, hungry bandits, vampires not yet beetotal, feral werewolves, Faerie barbarians in beads and feathers looking better than they had a right to.
The prospect of encountering these things no longer greatly bothered Mightily-Praiseworthy-Are-Ye-Who-Exalteth-Om Oats. He had triumphed over them before, even Gentry as those who still feared the Elves called them. (6) He had done his best to keep the faith and minister to the spiritual and ethical needs of those he met by his wayside, and was not ashamed to meet his god should a foe triumph over him in the physical world.
What appeared unto Mightily Oats was not wholly expected but not entirely unanticipated. The area was high in both background magic (from the predictive pines) and induced magic (from the psychic residue of the raid.)
A silvery figure stood before him. Insubstantial yet quivering with a vengeful rage implying imminent solidity should it be called for. A lumberjack from his appearance, and the felling axe he carried.
'They will come back,' he said, 'guide us in slaying the abominable creatures. And they will beware the man with the iron in his hand.'
The figure vanished before the priest could formulate a coherent reply. Mr Oats was not accustomed to religious visions.
And Hickory Cutter was showing signs of waking up. It had to be close to midnight.
The woodcutter sat up, rubbed sleep from his eyes and yawned hugely.
'You look mightily perturbed, Mightily. (7) I'd say there's something on your mind that just came to your attention, and it's left you looking like you've seen a ghost.'
'I think I may have done. I prayed for a sign and experienced a supernatural visitation. I'm a priest, I can tell. But I'm not sure if the visitor was a divine manifestation or a discarnate spirit with Unfinished Business.'
Mr Cutter noticed the significant pronunciation of the last two words.
'Perhaps you need to sleep on whatever your visitor told you while I keep watch. It might make more sense in the morning.'
'I know the visitor asked for aid against the raiders when they return. And said something odd about them 'fearing the man with the iron in his hand,' but we all know the raiders can't long stand the presence of iron, so why bother saying it ?'
'It really does sound as if you either need to meditate or sleep on your message. You settle down and work it out, while I keep watch. I have my axe to hand, I can deal with any nocturnal problem.'
Mr Cutter took position over the embers of their campfire. (8)
Mightily Oats settled to allow his subconscious mind to work on what he'd learned. Some people might refer to philosophers of the Bonk School as 'the mucky ones,' (9) but in reading their works he'd seen past their rather strange obsession with odd sexual practices (10), (11) to some valuable insights into how the mind worked. The subconscious mind was capable of generating quite remarkable insights if permitted to do so. Even the philosophers had not been able to work out why, but had been able to lay down some techniques that worked. There were even techniques that allowed a sleeper to direct their own dreams. He'd taken the trouble to master them.
He would dream on it.
(1)Author Robert Louis Stevenson took a different view in Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes.
(2)Preaching, namings, weddings and funerals, for those unfamiliar with the idiom.
(3)It is not clear if he deliberately sought to effect the social changes those books were catalysts for.
(4)Who was inclined to spend time partying with other gods instead of listening anyway.
(5)He'd be shocked to learn Evil Harry Dread used a similar prayer. See Sir Terry's The Last Hero.
(6)Possibly a story for another time. He has seen much and done much since Carpe Jugulum.
(7)It's a shortened personal name that takes getting used to. It's handier in Omnian. Apparently.
(8)Either he was very capable or there was something he wasn't letting on about. Or both.
(9)See Sir Terry's Unseen Academicals.
(10)Uberwaldeans from Bonk, eh.
(11)The late Sir Joshua Lavish of Ankh - Morpork had left them standing there. See Sir Terry's Making Money.