Dear Elizabeth,
		You did miss a truly wonderful holiday at Bath.
	The balls were a wondrous delight, with many of our
	favoured acquaintances in attendance.  My mother
	introduced me to several worthy gentlemen, and - oh!
	Elizabeth! - we danced often and long, and I feel
	so languid this morning.  I truly wish that you and
	your mother would make amends, you would have laughed
	and conversed with delight at all the handsome men.
		Forgive me, my beloved friend.  I would hardly
	wish to force unfortunate feelings upon you by
	speaking gaily, but the joy continues to flow to
	my pen, and I trust that you will find comfort other
	than ill within these words.
		There was a most fascinating man at one of the
	balls - I truly apologize, but I cannot remember
	which night it was - who stood off in the corner,
	keeping his person and his thoughts to himself.  As
	you know quite well, Lizzie, I will not abide a quiet
	man in a room filled with laughing faces, and as I
	approached him, he seemed to withdraw even further into
	the corner as I grew closer.  He was dressed well, but
	not opulent: indeed, he carried a subdued air about him.
	He was handsome, but strangely so, as I could not focus
	my gaze on any one feature of his face.  Lizzie, I would
	fain say that I received an impression of male beauty.
	I stood in front of him, and to my astonishment, he
	spoke not a word of greeting.  I wondered if the man
	could be mute.
		"I should be extremely sorry to appear impertinent -
	yet hardly know how to avoid it."
		"Impertinent... not at all, Madam," he answered
	quietly.  "I am pleased and flattered that I seem worthy 
	of your attention."
		He spoke with an odd accent, Lizzie, you recall
	the Duke we were acquainted with for some time who
	hailed from Germany?  This man spoke with the
	inflections and emphases much like the Duke, and yet
	there were differences.  My curiosity was surely piqued.
		"Would I be too impolite as to inquire your name, sir?
	I am Miss Pandora Collins, and I do not think I err in
	stating that I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
		He smiled slowly then, Elizabeth, but I do not
	remember his smile reaching his eyes.  "Madam, you
	remain the furthest from impolite that I could imagine.
	You honour me with your condescending concern and
	attention.  My name, such as it is, is not truly
	important, but if you require it..."
		"If you would not mind indulging me..."
		"Very well, Madam.  Some people name me The Wandering
	Jew, and still others name me not at all.  You, Madam,
	may call me Count de St. Germain."
		"You are a Count, sir?  From what country do you
	hail from, if my impertinence can be withstood for a
	few moments longer."
		Before he answered, it seemed as if his eyes	
	gazed beyond me, searching for something that no one
	else could see, and Lizzie, I felt a curious chill
	down my back.
		"I am from many places, Madam: I wander from
	Court to Court, giving counsel when I may and when
	it is needed."
		"Indeed!  Well, have you come to the fair city
	of Bath to give counsel to an honourable gentleman,
	or a fair lady?"
		With my question, his gaze held mine for an
	interminable period of time, but I was not frightened,
	Lizzie, I was tremendously excited.  I have met
	my first mysterious stranger, and his eyes were
	captivating!
		"You ask many questions for a young girl who
	is visiting Bath for the first time.  But I will
	indulge you one last time: I am here at the request
	of Lord Holdenbrook, and if he was aware that a
	young girl was interrogating his guest with such
	charm and grace, I would not be astonished if he
	whisked me away before I became too enamoured of
	your presence."
		I could only curtsey at his compliment, but
	before I could reply, his prediction became truth:
	Lord Holdenbrook appeared beside me, begged my
	pardon, and whisked the mysterious stranger away.
		I have not seen the Count since that time,
	and I cannot force his words and demeanour from
	my mind, Elizabeth.  Later on during the evening,
	I was sitting with my mother and father, watching
	the dancing, and I asked my father if he knew of
	a Count de St. Germain.
		"Was he here?  I will be damned if I missed
	him: I have heard that he is a very wise man, very
	religious, very pious, a good, good man.  Still,
	he seems a restless man.  I have heard stories of
	his conduct in France, Germany, and Spain."
		That irritating man, Sir John Powell, had
	overheard my question and insinuated his way into
	the conversation.  "I have heard, sir, that he
	is also known as The Wandering Jew, and as such,	
	should hardly be trusted.  There is something
	not altogether right about that man."
		Still, Lizzie, nothing that odious man could
	say would alter the favourable opinion I carry of
	the Count.  What noble, delicate his character
	seems to be.  I do hope that the Count makes a
	return engagement with Lord Holdenbrook.
		Oh, before it slips from my mind, Lizzie,
	Sir Powell said another thing which greatly
	interested me: "I have also heard tell, sir,
	that he has been giving his 'good' counsel
	for more than a few years.  I have even heard
	a rumour that he advised Queen Elizabeth at
	one time, but I cannot put faith in such a
	ridiculous argument."
		It would seem ridiculous to me as well,
	and everyone is well aware of the incredible
	things that Sir Powell will say to

Matthew looked up from the letter to pay the barmaid. He looked at the tankard of ale for a moment before taking a deep swig. The letter's seal that he had broken ten minutes before was still fresh, although if Matthew remained in the pub for much longer, he would have to deal with spilt beer and drunken louts, and so he downed the rest of the ale and left.

The smell of inevitable rain was strong in the air as he hurried to his destination, the house of Elizabeth Townsend. He stopped in a doorway two blocks away, lit a match, and carefully re-sealed the letter. The sound of encumbered thunder quickened his movements. The rain held off until he reached the foyer of Townsend House, Matthew clucking at himself for playing dice with fate once too often. Elizabeth flowed down the stairs in her sitting-room dress, which was only slightly less lavish than her ballroom dresses. The servant kept his irritation in check and handed the young woman the letter with a smile.

"Here you are, Madam! A missive from Miss Pandora not an hour in passing."

Elizabeth snatched the letter from his hand and flicked some coins in his direction. "Thank you, Matthew, and do not wander too far: I will need you to carry a reply before teatime."

"Yes, Madam," he replied, stooping to pick the coins off the floor.

For the twentieth time that afternoon, Matthew wished for an umbrella. Elizabeth was kind enough to wrap her reply in a towel so the papers would not become damp; however, nature was not kind enough to wrap her servant in sunshine so Matthew would not become damp. As he trotted through the streets, he considered the mysterious figure of the Wandering Jew. Did he remember... what was Charles talking about last week in Culver's Inn? Something about a man who came and went with the quickness of wind and the silence of the fog. Servants lived and died on the quality of their idle thoughts, James always used to say, and this was an idle thought worth pursuing.

	Dear Lizzie,
		I had the wonderful fortune of meeting the Count
	once again, and this second time was truly exquisite.
	There was another ball at Holdenbrook Hall, and there
	he stood, in the corner, unassailed and stolidly quiet.
	I could barely restrain myself as I quitted my parents
	and strode directly over.
		"Well, it is the endlessly gracious Miss Pandora
	Collins.  How has your evening been, Madam?"
		There seemed to be no change in him: indeed, he
	was wearing the same clothes that I last viewed him in.
	His demeanour, though, looked somewhat cloudy, and I
	wondered what counsel he could have been giving the
	Lord Holdenbrook.
		"My evening has improved tremendously, now that
	I have arrived here at Holdenbrook Hall.  I trust
	that your counsels and your visit are both wearing
	well?"
		"Both, Madam, are progressing nicely.  But I
	believe that a young man desires your presence in
	the next dance."
		I turned to discover the very personable Sir
	Gabriel standing patiently beside me, and his smile
	was such that I found myself incapable of refusal.
	Even so, Lizzie, I found my gaze returning time and
	again to that lonely corner.  However, once I was
	rewarded with a sight so dreadful that I can barely
	repeat it to you now.  As I glanced in the Count's
	direction during a turn, he seemed to fade somewhat,
	and on his forehead was a burning cross.  I cried
	out in surprise, lost my way in the dance, and
	humiliated myself to a terrible extent.  Once the
	confusion has been settled, the Count had
	disappeared, and I could find no word of him for
	the rest of the evening...

Idle thoughts transformed into excited speculation: Matthew sat up straight, blinking, and the barmaid asked if he would like another. He failed to acknowledge her for several seconds, until she finally shook his right shoulder to make sure he was alive.

"Sorry, mum, but I've been thinking a bit too hard."

"Well, then, as my dad would say, it is time for another ale!"

Matthew shook his head, rose, and left some coins on the table. Idle thoughts, indeed.

"That girl certainly takes her blessed time in writing. Give it here, Matthew."

He restrained the impulse to toss the letter on the floor, and handed it to her. He stood waiting as Elizabeth broke the seal and began reading. He still stood there as she began to walk away, muttering to herself. Matthew thought he caught the words "Wandering Jew", and then she was up the stairs. Sighing, he wandered slowly into the kitchen, where Elspeth was preparing afternoon tea.

"Oh, did the missy forget to give you some coins again? Here, let me give you a few, and I'll take some out of her cabinet later." Matthew mumbled a thanks and sat down on a stool to wait for Elizabeth's inevitable summons.

"Edward? He sits over there, in the corner. The red-headed lout. Take a care you don't start a fight, hm? There's already been three this week, and I can't afford the damage."

Matthew nodded to the barkeep and wound his way to the corner, sitting down across from a dishevelled youth who looked like he was only a year removed from being breast-fed.

"Yeah, and what do you want, sitting here at my table?"

"Calm down, man. I just want to talk to you about a man who may be staying at Holdenbrook Hall."

"Not the stranger? I had enough of that fellow, I can tell you."

"Really?" said Matthew. "Tell me all about it."

"Well, he's a strange one, that he is. Always walking about the hallways late at night without a candle, looking out the windows at London. I even caught the bloody creature sitting on the roof!"

"Was he not afraid?"

"He wasn't as scared as I was, my friend. He stood up on the tiles, the wind flapping his clothes, but he said not a thing. He never smiles neither."

"Is he usually fully dressed when he goes out walking?"

"To tell the truth, squire, I've never seen him in anything but full dress. And he eats like a dead man, if you take my meaning."

"You mean he doesn't eat at all?"

"Not a scrap. It's not right, I tell you."

They sat for a few moments in silence. Finally the young Edward burst out, "What am I telling you all this for? Who are you and what do you want? Are you from the King?"

Matthew had not prepared himself for any resistance from this young Edward, but he liked the sound of that last question.

"This is very secret, Edward. You must not tell a soul that we had this conversation. But the King is concerned that perhaps this stranger, this Wandering Jew, is not beneficial to England."

Edward's eyes grew large, and he said, "You can count on me, sir, I won't tell not a thing, not even to my master."

"Good, good. One last question, and then I will leave. Does this stranger ever leave Holdenbrook Hall?"

"Why, yes he does, sir. About once a week, sir, he leaves the house by himself and walks out to the country. And at night, sir, now that's a dangerous thing, to walk at night being a nobleman. But he finds no robbers, sir."

"Or they don't find him." He seemed to fade somewhat...

The moonlight that reflected off the south windows of Holdenbrook Hall seemed to search out the young man hiding behind a scruffy bush. Before Matthew could regret his choice of hiding-places, a door creaked somewhere close by. His eyes strained vainly to see beyond the darkness and shadows. He waited anxiously for a few moments for a hand to fall upon his shoulder, or a startled cry of alarm, or an apparition to charge him, screaming. Everything remained still. Matthew looked up at the heavy moon and shivered. Why did I choose the bloody full moon to stalk under? As well I caper with legions of daemons or howl with wolves.

The moon passed behind a cloud.

It is during tense moments such as these when the common man doubts his own existence. And fears for it as well.

Matthew was ready to run in a panic for home when he heard the stealthy crunch of a footstep not twenty paces away. He found that his left leg was shaking uncontrollably. Putting both hands on his leg, he willed it to stop.

The footstep became two, then three, and then stopped in front of the bush.

He can see me, he can see me, he will cry for help any moment, he will kill me on sight, I am truly doomed...

The footsteps began again, away from the bush and down the street. The moon returned to shine, Matthew fought his fright to a standstill, and followed the mysterious stranger.

A horse-drawn carriage rumbled past a man darkly dressed, and the passenger, who has just come from dallying with his mistress, received a bothersome chill. Suddenly he had the impulse to tell his wife all about his affair once he arrived at home. He pulled his coat tightly around him, and cursed the driver.

Matthew watched the carriage pass by and jumped back on the road. There was a bridge spanning a small river thirty paces ahead, and Matthew realized that he could not see the mysterious stranger. Panicking somewhat, as he felt much less alone if he was following someone; it is the height of danger to walk alone at night, and so he ran across the bridge.

"Do not be so hasty."

Matthew skidded to a stop, slipping on the smooth stone and falling to the ground.

"You see? I told you."

It was at this point that Matthew discovered that he had not brought some sort of weapon with him. He got up slowly, staring at the mysterious stranger, who was leaning against the stone railing of the bridge. Matthew found that he had nothing to say; he did not actually expect to have a conversation with this man.

"I find, young Matthew, that I must satisfy your curiosity about myself." His deeply dark cloak brushed silently against the cobblestones, the hood obscuring the stranger's face, and Matthew suddenly feared that this man might be carrying a hidden scythe.

The river chuckled happily beneath them.

"I... I was merely strolling down the road toward my aunt's house, sir, I meant no harm by my presence, and..."

"Don't bother, young man. Your story is as transparent as the wings of a fly." Matthew felt as if the stranger was coldly examining him, peering into him, beyond the clothes, beyond the skin, into his soul.

"I am the Count de St. Germain." With this announcement, he drew back his hood to reveal a passably handsome face, pleasant to look at, but not remarkable enough to remember it ten minutes later. "I am also known as the Wandering Jew in some parts, the Mysterious Stranger in others. And if I am not mistaken, you are a servant... perhaps of Miss Pandora Collins?"

Matthew remained silent and very uneasy.

"Yes, that young girl has quite a fixation on my being. Is she a God-fearing woman, Matthew?"

The servant's eyes widened. "How did you learn my name?"

"Answer the question, man, it is worth your life and more."

Matthew found that he could not resist the Count's strong, urgent tone. "She is, sir, God-fearing, I mean."

The Count smiled darkly. "Then I do not think her fixation would last beyond the night's end if she was aware of who I was." He laughed, and the sound was like the anguished cry of a seagull lost at sea.

Matthew could restrain himself no longer. "I'm sorry, sir, but who are you?" Bright eyes flashed in his direction, and Matthew pressed his body tighter against the opposite railing. In a blink of one of those bright flashing eyes, the Count was across the bridge and holding the young servant by the arms.

"You ask and yet you do not know the price of knowledge? Such courage in a young man." The Count closed his eyes, deep in thought. "Tell me, Matthew, what did your namesake in the Holy Book tell the world about the fate of Judas the Betrayer?"

"Uh, well, sir, I..."

The Count shook him violently. "Come on, man!"

"Yes, sir, Matthew says that... Judas was overcome with remorse at betraying the Son of God... and he hanged himself."

The Count laughed, and the sound was like the bellowing of elephants in the African night.

"Indeed, Matthew, that is what is written. Or, at least, that is what I wanted written."

"Sir?"

The Count released him from his grip and spun around, pacing the bridge, his voice rising bitterly with each word. "Am I a sir? I hardly think so, my good and righteous man... To satisfy your boundless curiosity, I will tell you that I have been condemned to walk the earth until the Final Judgement. I, Matthew, am Judas Iscariot. The Betrayer and enemy of all mankind. What say you now?" The Count stood several feet away, his stare burning holes in Matthew's eyes.

Perhaps the man is insane - I should agree with everything and then run for my life...

"Perhaps, young sir, I am insane. Living for nearly two thousand years can test the bindings that hold together any mind. And perhaps I could kill you. But I cannot." He sat on the stone railing, and for the first time, the Count did not seem masterfully imposing; he looked like an old and withered man, beaten down, his shoulders bent and pained.

"Sir? Are you well? I did not mean to..."

"Yes, yes, yes. You do not need to worry about my person. There is nothing you could do to improve or worsen my condition. But still you could make an old man happy by listening to a story."

Matthew sat beside the mysterious stranger. "Tell your story, elder one. I am eager to learn."

"Two days before Passover, I had just departed from Jesus' side when a strangely dressed man came up to me. He told me that I was to betray the Lord's only son. When I asked why, he smiled sadly and said that I must make the greatest sacrifice that any human being will ever make. This will be done for the sake of mankind. I did not understand, and I did not believe, and I was about to tell him so when Jesus came up behind me and asked me who my friend was. I said, 'My Lord, this is no friend of mine!' 'And why is that, my friend Judas?' 'He wishes me to betray you, my Lord.' And Jesus looked at this strange man, and his countenance grew tired and weary. Jesus turned to me and said, 'You must obey this man, for he is an angel in disguise, and his bidding is my Father's bidding.' Jesus went back to the house, looking sad. It was the next day at the Last Supper that Jesus announced that one of us would betray him. Knowing that it was me, I protested, but softly. I tell you, Matthew, I cried when I brought the soldiers, and kissed Jesus for the last time on the forehead, for I knew his doom. However, I did not know mine."

"I could not help myself, I had to visit Jesus on the cross before he died. I needed to know why I betrayed the Son of God. Jesus saw me approach and he said, 'Take thee from my sight, Betrayer. I cannot look upon you again.' 'But I was told to betray you, my Lord, I did not want to.' 'Betrayer, for your deed, you are condemned to walk the earth unceasing until I return for the Final Judgement.' And I cried, for I did not understand my punishment. He then cried out, 'Why has thou forsaken me?' and I knew that he did not mean me. I wandered in the desert for many days and nights, wanting to die. Yet despite my undying thirst and hunger, I lived on. And on. I have walked the earth ever since, Matthew, trying to find some way to make up for the evil deed that I committed. I have given counsel to Kings and Queens, Chiefs and Wise Men. I advised the great King Arthur as the wizard Merlin. I have travelled the world thrice around, helping who I can and when I am able. I have seen wondrous things, Matthew, and I have seen monstrous things. And I still walk the earth. I am the mysterious stranger, the betraying wanderer, the man in black, the dark man, the man of shadows, the destroyer of light and the harbinger of ill tidings. And I understand now what the strangely garbed man meant when he said that I would make the greatest sacrifice of all. I have sacrificed my death."

Judas began to cry. "I cannot go to Heaven, and I cannot go to Hell. I cannot go where I do not deserve to go, and I cannot go where I do deserve to go and worse: I cannot love, for I have betrayed the greatest love mankind has ever witnessed."

They sat in silence, listening to the crickets and the rustling leaves and the river chuckling happily below them.

"I find cold comfort in the darkness of the countryside and the gentle howling of wolves. I hope that some day, with all the good things that I have done, the Good Lord shall finally embrace me in his loving arms. I had a dream, once, a dream that I finally died, and I reached the gates of Heaven, and they were wide open, and a celebration like none since the ascendance of the Son of God carried me to His throne."

Judas raised his head and looked at Matthew. "Do you forgive me?"

Matthew took the Betrayer's hand in his. "I forgive you."

"Thank you, young man." The mysterious stranger stood up. The old man disappeared, and in his place stood the imposing dark figure of old. "I must be off, now. Please, good servant, do not forget me. Mine is a lonely life, with no friends and little hope. Remember my sacrifice, and do not betray me..."

He walked back in the direction of London in the same way he lived his endless life. Alone.

The servant remained seated on the stone railing until the sun rose a few hours later. Remembering his duties, and remembering sacrifices that still were to be paid, Matthew Lewis trotted home.