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bowl. There was meat of dubious origin (probably carrion foraged for by Mattna on his wanderings) and blackened potatoes that just about qualified as pommes des terres . Some barley floated reluctantly on the cloudy surface and collided with chunks of incognito mushroom. Despite looking horrific, its taste was exquisite. Vlad was becoming a bit addicted to Mattna’s broth. Despite Vlad’s bowels rumbling for hours after eating it, he always felt great when he relieved himself the next morning. It did something good for him. He was unsure what that something was, but he felt it. Vlad’s mother always shot him a knowing glance when his stomach was churning like that on his post-broth return. Some mothers may have felt slighted that their son would rather eat the food of a strange recluse, but Hana always saw the funny side of it. Besides, it just meant there was more food in the larder for later.
    “The food of warriors,” said Mattna, “but before I share my food with you, isn’t there some food you must share with me?”
    “What?”
    “Food for Judas.”
    Vlad remembered, and opened a small cloth bag and tossed Mattna a worm. Mattna in turned tossed it to Judas, his giant black crow that squawked loudly in the corner of Mattna’s dwelling. The bird expertly caught the worm in its beak and swiftly swallowed it down.
    “I don’t suppose you have a toad in there as well, do you?” Mattna asked.
    “Apologies, my friend, I do not.”
    “One can never have enough toads, I say, I shall have to catch one later.”
    Judas squawked with contentment after his meal and began preening its feathers.
    “He always cleans himself when he’s enjoyed his food,” Mattna said with a smile as he admired his pet.
    “Why have you named your crow Judas?” Vlad asked.
    The old man turned to Vlad, almost happy at the topic being raised.
    “Judas followed his own path, as I do. That is why I lead this hermit’s existence. There are no masters out here for me to obey.”
    “Judas betrayed Jesus and the path he chose took him to Hell.”
    “Judas did what he thought was right and regretted it later. History has not been kind to him, but at least he had the courage to go his own way. That is where my admiration lies.”
    “My admiration lies in your talents and your knowledge; I just think they’re wasted in solitude.”
    “A man’s talent is like his phallus: It’s a battering ram to be wielded wisely.”
    Vlad’s eyebrows shot up, but he remained silent.
    “Now, going your own way does not mean being rebellious for the sake of it; that’s just petulance,” Mattna said. “You must use your ability to punch a hole in this world and leave your mark.”
    “Love is another way to leave one’s mark.”
                  “There was a time when I thought the only solution to the frigidity of life was the treachery of love.”
    Vlad picked up a clump of dust from the table.
    “This place needs a woman’s touch.”
    “No, no, not now. I’m in the winter of my life, and my heart is as stiff as my aching bones. The only future I could promise a woman is widowhood with this hovel bequeathed to her. Not many would want that, and I would not want anyone to go through that for me. I choose to rely on myself.”
    “Your bird has been fed, now what about me?” Vlad asked as he eyed the bowl of broth with large, ravenous eyes.
    “Patience, dear boy, patience, all good things to those who wait.”
    Mattna slid the bowl of broth onto a small, round table for Vlad, and Vlad hungrily took a mouthful, spat out some animal hairs and feathers, and resumed his scoffing.
    “They say you are a madman in Nocturne,” Vlad said with his mouth full. “They say you dance naked in the moonlight and converse with crows. I see the latter bit is true.”
    “I need not explain myself or my life to them. I harm no one. I just want to be left in peace.”
    “People have burned for less, Mattna. I worry about you being all alone out