For Alfred Machin
“By chance, my husband is away on business,” said the Mill Owner’s Wife to the Traveling Player. “Ravish me!”
The Traveling Player stepped forward. He took her in his arms.
“I can only stay until dawn,” he said. “My Company leaves in the morning.”
“That’s okay,” said the Mill Owner’s Wife.
“I won’t be back for sixteen months.”
“That’s okay.”
After that, he ravished her. Later, in the dimness before dawn, as he was getting ready to leave, she grabbed his arm.
“In sixteen months, I will make sure my husband is away again. If necessary, I will contrive some deception. I will leave a candle in the window, so you will know he is not here.”
“I understand,” said the Traveling Player. “This is how it was destined to be.”
The Traveling Player kissed the Mill Owner’s Wife. He did this.
Sixteen months later, the Traveling Player came back. In all of that time, he had not stopped thinking about the Mill Owner’s Wife. He planned to ask her to abandon her husband for him. He had told the others in his Company of this. They told him not to do so. They told him nothing good would come of this plan. But he would not be deterred.
“I must do this,” he told them. “It is my destiny.”
The Company staged two performances that evening. They attracted a small but enthusiastic audience. The Company had been performing together for many years, and it was evident in the easy, confident rapport they shared on stage. After the last curtain fell, the Traveling Player set off towards the mill. The road was very dark. On the way, he saw an owl tangled in some netting by the roadside. It strained and flapped its wings, but it couldn’t free itself. He saw that it had nearly exhausted itself with its efforts. Knowing it would invite misfortune to pass the owl by without helping it, he stopped and disentangled it from the netting.
“Thank you for helping me,” said the owl. “In return, I will give you some advice.”
“If that is what you wish,” said the Traveling Player.
“It is. My advice to you is do not go to the place where you are going. At that place you will meet a terrible, gruesome fate. Turn back.”
“I will not. It is a place I must go to. If that is to be my fate, there is no changing it.”
“I know it,” said the owl. “But my part is written, too. Alas, alas.”
After that, the owl flew away. The Traveling Player watched it go, and then walked on.