Into the Wilderness
A Story about Remembering
Edmond smiled wistfully as he looked out into the trees, where the sun – just beginning to set behind the cabin – made its presence known by turning the amber leaves golden.
“We’ll be heading off, tomorrow,” he said, “into the wilderness. We’ve nothing for it but to go at first light.”
He brought his eyes back into the cabin, glancing first at the dim fire, next at the young man on his right. They were seated around a table, the two of them, with Edmond facing the window and his companion facing the fire.
“You’re young, Will,” he said. “It’s almost a shame. Retreating into the wilderness is an old man’s game. You’ve still some time ahead of you to live in the world.”
“I don’t mind,” said Will. “I think I’ll like the wilderness.”
This made Edmond smile. “I think you’re probably right. You always were cut from a different cloth.”
“Besides, you’ll need me out there. And you’ll need me to carry on when you’re gone.”
Edmond nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You’ll need to carry on without us. You’ll need to take up the work after we no longer can. You’ll need to preserve our memory when time inevitably takes us. And you’ll have to get used to loneliness. The wilderness is always lonely, but once we leave you, you’ll be solitary – perhaps for many years, though we do hope you won’t be solitary forever.”
“Perhaps I’ll find a companion,” Will said with a grin.
“Perhaps. But optimism isn’t ours, Will.”
“No.”
“But I think you’ll do just fine with solitude, Will. You never seemed to mind loneliness. Besides, there is always hope – hope that companions will find you eventually.”
“I’ll be busy. There’s so much to do.”
Edmond smiled again. “You may be old at heart, Will, but you still display a young man’s eagerness. Patience. We will have plenty of time in the wilderness. Rest – as much as you can – that is always good counsel. Stay sharp and stay strong. But shepherd your strength. There may come a time when you need it. Don’t waste it in the thin years – long though they may stretch. Above all, stay ready.”
“I will,” said Will, with perhaps too much enthusiasm.
“I know you will. Keep yourself alert, always ready, but always relaxed. You’ll know when the time comes.”
“For what?”
“To return. Why else would we go out into the wilderness if not to wait for the day when we will return?”
Will seemed puzzled. “How and when will we return?” he asked.
“Patience. There will be time for us to talk all about that when we are gone. There is much you still need to learn. Our numbers have dwindled. We are but few now, so few. But we will keep each other.”
“How many are left? Several we thought we could count on have turned now, haven’t they?”
“You and me. A few others. Hayrist and Albert have already gone out. They’ve gone ahead to prepare the way.”
“How far will we go?” asked Will. “We must leave all civilization behind. How far must that be?”
“We leave it behind to preserve it,” replied Edmond. “It’s hard to say how far out. Beyond. That much we know. Beyond the farthest reach of any society of man. And further – that society may yet expand beyond its current borders, even as it grows weaker. Someday, all things may collapse, but a kingdom can take much ruin before it falls.”
Will looked forlorn for a moment, but the moment passed. “Why leave?” he asked, “if we are only going to return someday? You’ll die, and Hayrist and Albert and the others. And I’ll be left alone. Then I’ll return alone?”
“Unless others join you.”
“But why leave? Why not stay and recruit them now? We’ll need them. How will we stand a chance of recruiting anyone if we are beyond the reaches of mankind?”
“Recruits may come to us – to you, after the rest of us are gone,” said Edmond cryptically. “We will be going far beyond any princely power to reach. But we will leave signs. We will leave rumors. We won’t be hard to find for those who want to remember.”
“Do you think anyone will? Want to remember? Come to join us?”
Edmond smiled again. “You did,” he said.
“I’m confused. First you say I will be alone and caution against optimism when I say I might find a companion. Then you tell me that others will find me – recruits for our side. With luck and hope, that is. How can both things be true?”
“Many things can be true at the same time,” said Edmond.
“You’ve told me that before. But I’m still confused.”
Edmond looked troubled now. “If I’m still confusing you,” he said, “that is because I, myself, am uncertain. The future is impossible to know.”
Will smiled at this. “Before we go,” he began.
“So many questions. You are impatient, young man.”
“I’d like a few more answers.”
“Very well. Ask away. I’ll answer if I choose.”
“Before we go, I must ask again: How will we know when it’s time to return?”
Edmond thought for a few moments. “Mankind will need us again,” he said finally. “They need us now, though they do not know it. They need us to go into the wilderness to wait for a time when they have come to their senses.”
“They’re trying to kill us.”
“Yes. That’s why we’re going into the wilderness.”
“Will they? Need us? Come to their senses? Realize that they need us? Seek us out in the wilderness? Ask for our help or at least not try to kill us when we return?”
“There will always be those who will try to kill us. Perhaps even in the wilderness. For certain they will try upon our return. But mankind will need us again.”
“Will they? They’re destroying themselves. They’re tearing themselves apart: cities of men, councils, governments. If they’ve already forgotten so much, if they’re bent on forgetting, why won’t they forget us?”
“They will. But it is our task to be the ones to remember.”
Will shook his head. “I still don’t get it,” he said.
“We will spread rumors, of course. Fables of our lost existence. Perhaps we shall even drop in, from time to time, on the kingdoms of man. Before our return. Cloaked and disguised, of course. But to keep the rumors alive. To stoke the embers.”
“I see. But you are sure there will come a day again when we are called to return?”
Edmond looked very thoughtful. “Nothing is fated,” he said. “It may be that the forest will swallow us down. It may be that we shall perish, and join those happy warriors – whom we knew. Much has been taken from us. But we wouldn’t be the ones who remember if we were daunted by that. We know – more than any men – the folly of man’s nature. We know how ignorant and bestial he can be. But we also know there is something noble in the hearts of men, and that is what we seek to preserve. That is what we remember. Our task, as you well know, is to keep that which is great, that which is true, that which is honorable – that we might one day pass it on.
We are not a hopeful breed, by nature. But so long as there is good along with the bad in man’s nature, and so long as there is no fate, there is always hope. There is always the possibility that man will learn from the error of his ways. Times may be bleak right now, and the world seems to be falling apart. But there is always the possibility.
Man may be ignorant, but he is still sometimes capable of reflection. Man may be blind, but he is still capable of learning from experience. It may take a great deal of experience. A thousand failures for every stumbling success. Man is a thick creature and it takes him many, many failed attempts before he learns his lesson. But, over the many ages, he does learn. A little.
There is something beautiful about that, Will. The stumbling, bumbling, ever-failing, but ever – in blind stubbornness – trying again, until at last there is the suggestion of a lesson learned. And the ever-greater piling of those lessons on top of one another, always growing higher.
At times like these, much is subtracted from the pile. But there are men like us – who remember and who are grateful. We are the ones who make sure the pile is never scattered completely.
There is much to love in that blind trial and error of man. How in his infinite foolishness he sometimes manages to do something extraordinary. It takes a lot of trial, and a lot of error. A lot. But eventually, sometimes, he mends his ways. Or, at least, he patches them.
So long as there are those who breath and who remember, there will be the possibility of a better day. Not the promise of one, certainly not. But a day when the darkness is cast aside and man lives in serfdom and squabbling no more.”
Edmond could see that his young friend’s eyes were filled with excitement. He wondered whether perhaps it would be better to impress upon Will the graveness and gravity of the danger. They were, after all, heading out into the wilderness.
“Perhaps it is good that the faithless fell away,” said Will. “These last years have been clarifying.”
“Perhaps,” said Edmond. But he looked troubled again.
Will was thoughtful for a moment, as though fortifying himself for the wild lands ahead. Then he asked, “Are you sad that you and Hayrist and Albert may die in the wilderness, before that day of returning comes?”
“Old age has yet its toil,” replied Edmond. “We have much work to do out there. Not only must we survive and keep our band together, but we must keep alive the memory – even in the darkest of nights, when the cold lies upon us and the mists press down our spirits – the memory of what it was when men were free.”
“It seems such a very good thing to me,” said Will, “what we are doing. What we remember. Why must so many persist in hating us?”
Edmond sighed. “Most men do not want to be free,” he said. “Not really. But more than that, they do not want to remember. They do not want to know who came before them, nor do they want to learn. They would rather believe they have been cheated and robbed than believe the world is what it is. They would rather believe they have been wronged than be grateful for what they have been given. But, most of all, they would rather see a great man brought low than be lifted up themselves. It is so much more satisfying to destroy than it is to build.”
“It seems to me, that in this dispiriting time, men would turn to dreams of old heroes, not seek to destroy them,” said Will.
“We live in the Age of No Heroes,” said Edmond.
Now, Will grew downcast. “So much as already been lost,” he said.
“But much abides. Time has made us weak, but we are strong in spirit.” Then Edmond stood and – as though to rouse his young companion – added, “Besides, it will be a grand adventure. Come, my friend. We must away tomorrow. Get some sleep. The road will be long and the going uncertain. But that has never deterred us in the past.”