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Authors: Hasekura Isuna
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a mist-gray sash. He also carried a staff longer than he was tall, with a palm-sized bell affixed to the top.
A black-furred sheepdog paced to and fro about its master, as if keeping guard. Its long fur made it seem like a tongue of black flame as it sprinted across the plains.
It was said that there were two things travelers needed to be careful of when encountering a shepherd on their travels.
The first was not to offend the shepherd. The second was to make sure the shepherd robes did not conceal a demon.
The shepherds, who wandered the vast plains with naught but sheepdogs for company, evoked such strange warnings because their lives were even lonelier than those of traveling merchants—they were often seen as nearly inhuman.
Leading their flocks across the plains alone, controlling the animals with nothing but staff and horn in hand—it was easy to imagine shepherds as some kind of pagan sorcerers.
Some said that meeting a shepherd while traveling ensured protection from accidents for a week, thanks to the spirits of the land—others said that shepherds were demons in disguise, and if you let your guard down, they would imprison your soul within one of the sheep they tended.
For his part, Lawrence found nothing strange in these beliefs. Shepherds were mysterious enough to warrant such ideas.
He raised his hand and waved it thrice in the way that had become ritual for greeting shepherds, and he was relieved to see the shepherd raise and lower his staff four times in the traditional fashion. At the very least, this shepherd was not a ghost.
This first barrier had been cleared, but the real test would come when he got closer and could ascertain whether or not the shepherd was a demon in disguise.
“I am Lawrence, a traveling merchant. This is my companion, Holo,” declared Lawrence by way of introduction once he got close enough to make out the patchwork on the shepherd’s cloak and brought his horse to a stop. The shepherd was rather small of stature, only a bit taller than Holo.
While Lawrence talked, the dog that had been rounding up the sheep came trotting over to its master, sitting beside the shepherd like a faithful knight.
Gray eyes tinged with blue steadily scrutinized Lawrence and Holo.
The shepherd was silent.
“I have come by this road and met you by the grace of God, and if you are a good shepherd and true, you’ll be well met.”
A true shepherd would be able to prove himself with the traditional hymn and dance of his kind.
The shepherd nodded slowly and planted his staff directly in front of him.
Lawrence found himself surprised at the shepherd’s small, slender hand, but he was even more surprised at what came next.
“By the blessing of God in the heavens...
The voice that intoned the shepherd’s hymn was that of a young girl’s.
“By the protection of the spirits of the land...”
Moving her staff with skill, the shepherdess drew an arrow in the dirt with practiced ease and then, starting from the tip of the arrow, inscribed a circle around herself counterclockwise.
“The word of God is carried on the wind, and the blessings of the spirits of the land inhabit the very grass eaten by the lamb.”
Once her circle reached the tip of the arrow, she began to stamp her feet in the earth.
“The lambs are led by the shepherd, and the shepherd by God.”
Finally, she held her staff still, aligned with the tip of the arrow in the earth.
“By the grace of God, the shepherd follows the path of righteousness.”
No matter the country, the shepherd’s hymn was always the same. It was not the habit of shepherds to associate the way craftsmen or merchants
did, but it was no exaggeration to say that the hymn and its dance were universal.
It was enough to lend credence to the idea that shepherds could converse across great distances by sending their words on the wind.
“My apologies for doubting you. You surely are a shepherdess,” said Lawrence as he climbed down from the
A black-furred sheepdog paced to and fro about its master, as if keeping guard. Its long fur made it seem like a tongue of black flame as it sprinted across the plains.
It was said that there were two things travelers needed to be careful of when encountering a shepherd on their travels.
The first was not to offend the shepherd. The second was to make sure the shepherd robes did not conceal a demon.
The shepherds, who wandered the vast plains with naught but sheepdogs for company, evoked such strange warnings because their lives were even lonelier than those of traveling merchants—they were often seen as nearly inhuman.
Leading their flocks across the plains alone, controlling the animals with nothing but staff and horn in hand—it was easy to imagine shepherds as some kind of pagan sorcerers.
Some said that meeting a shepherd while traveling ensured protection from accidents for a week, thanks to the spirits of the land—others said that shepherds were demons in disguise, and if you let your guard down, they would imprison your soul within one of the sheep they tended.
For his part, Lawrence found nothing strange in these beliefs. Shepherds were mysterious enough to warrant such ideas.
He raised his hand and waved it thrice in the way that had become ritual for greeting shepherds, and he was relieved to see the shepherd raise and lower his staff four times in the traditional fashion. At the very least, this shepherd was not a ghost.
This first barrier had been cleared, but the real test would come when he got closer and could ascertain whether or not the shepherd was a demon in disguise.
“I am Lawrence, a traveling merchant. This is my companion, Holo,” declared Lawrence by way of introduction once he got close enough to make out the patchwork on the shepherd’s cloak and brought his horse to a stop. The shepherd was rather small of stature, only a bit taller than Holo.
While Lawrence talked, the dog that had been rounding up the sheep came trotting over to its master, sitting beside the shepherd like a faithful knight.
Gray eyes tinged with blue steadily scrutinized Lawrence and Holo.
The shepherd was silent.
“I have come by this road and met you by the grace of God, and if you are a good shepherd and true, you’ll be well met.”
A true shepherd would be able to prove himself with the traditional hymn and dance of his kind.
The shepherd nodded slowly and planted his staff directly in front of him.
Lawrence found himself surprised at the shepherd’s small, slender hand, but he was even more surprised at what came next.
“By the blessing of God in the heavens...
The voice that intoned the shepherd’s hymn was that of a young girl’s.
“By the protection of the spirits of the land...”
Moving her staff with skill, the shepherdess drew an arrow in the dirt with practiced ease and then, starting from the tip of the arrow, inscribed a circle around herself counterclockwise.
“The word of God is carried on the wind, and the blessings of the spirits of the land inhabit the very grass eaten by the lamb.”
Once her circle reached the tip of the arrow, she began to stamp her feet in the earth.
“The lambs are led by the shepherd, and the shepherd by God.”
Finally, she held her staff still, aligned with the tip of the arrow in the earth.
“By the grace of God, the shepherd follows the path of righteousness.”
No matter the country, the shepherd’s hymn was always the same. It was not the habit of shepherds to associate the way craftsmen or merchants
did, but it was no exaggeration to say that the hymn and its dance were universal.
It was enough to lend credence to the idea that shepherds could converse across great distances by sending their words on the wind.
“My apologies for doubting you. You surely are a shepherdess,” said Lawrence as he climbed down from the
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