Rufus the Red
Instead of sitting at the top of the stairs, waiting for the click of the shutter in the darkness, I sequestered myself in my phrontistery, where I carried out my studies. pouring through volumes of research, I studied the characteristics of those people who had the special ability to see the others; known by many as the “sight” or the “whim”. Children were most likely to see mystical creatures, also the aged, but this was often attributed to the sporadic cartwheels of developing or deteriorating minds. It was reported that many Anglo-Saxons sporting red hair commonly had the ability, but my research revealed that those red heads claiming to have the sight shared more than physical features, they had a common twisted root in the family tree: King Rufus the Red.
Not only did the king have red hair, he was said to have a fiery disposition and a wild streak of insanity; having some 27 gilded and stone encrusted cages built to house his pet yams. Tucked behind a vintage jar of pear and lemming chutney in the musty archives of the library annex and larder at Windsor, I found an old diary. It included an account of the Queen’s bodice lacer’s foot maid who claimed that Rufus’s birth was not the result of a royal marriage, but instead the offspring of a rare chance encounter of his mother with a lusty wood sprite. The result was a king with split allegiances, and a disturbed mind, he taxed his people heavily to purchase great tracts of dark and enchanted forests on both sides of the Channel. He took no queen, but records show his presence at the baptism of a red-haired male child of a Bristol barmaid at Canterbury Cathedral. It is said that the refusal of baptismal rights by Anselm, abbot of Bec, led to the cleric’s persecution, and the deepening of the King’s distaste for organized religion. The day before he was to sever his ties with the church and take the young barmaid as his queen, the king took his brother hunting the last pair of great bustards in the New Forest. It was there, at Brokenhurst, that an errant arrow skewered his left eye and another accidentally pierced his heart as he passed a group of hooded monks. Though they employed the great medical advances of the time: the thumping of the head with cedar bows, the king soon expired.
According to my research a considerable number of those blessed with the “”whim” could trace their ancestry back to that same Bristol barmaid, and many sport great shocks of red hair. Accounts are unreliable, and many children are hushed up by parents who rightfully worry of being branded as witches, but the ancestry includes the great Yorkshire families of Wright and Griffith, as well as my own great great grandfather; Ichabod Galubrious.
Composed by Dr. G on Tuesday, Mar. 4, 2008
Gentle Reader Responses
Maren says:
Very interesting....... The plot thickens.
Elena says:
What else is in the library annex and larder?
Isn't an account from the queen's bodice lacer's foot maid rather far removed?
Maybe your girls have the gift from Ichabod.
Loryienne says:
Maren had my thoughts almost. I was thinking "thicker and deeper."
Other than that, I want to say more, but I am speechless.
Tara says:
I can't wait to see a picture of Ichobod! :-)
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