A Pilgrim in White
There once was a girl named Orla, she was smaller than the other children but no less brave or clever. She lived in a village called Sabhail, there many families lived who were all blessed with many children. They were a well-behaved, polite, and honest people who worked earnestly, laughed easily, and took bread and wine each Sunday faithfully. Few people left Sabhail, few people came there.
To all the rest of the world it may have not existed at all, to those that lived there this was all there was. Had you travelled there, you would not mark this place as any different nor stranger than any other place. Save for a strange thing the mothers said to their children, before school, before they went off to play with friends, before tucking them into bed.
“From dawn to dusk, noon until night,
While you’re with me, you won’t know fright,
Never run away or leave my sight,
Never trust the Pilgrim in White.”
Orla being the obedient girl she was nodded along when her mother said this, but never asked what it meant, though she wondered sometimes. Smart girl she was, she knew that it meant to not run off, and that she was safe with her mother. But who was the Pilgrim in White? Embarrassed that she didn’t know, she didn’t ask, and decided she would have to figure it out one day.
One day came eventually when Orla was playing in the garden around her home, her mother inside making dinner. The sun was high, and the day was bright, and Orla made sure her mother could always see her from the window. She danced amongst the vegetables and the flowers, until she twirled a tad too far and ended up at the edge of the garden and the beginning of the wood.
There she stopped and froze, for in her sight, there stood at the edge of the wood. The Pilgrim in White.
He stood tall, his head halfway up the height of a tree. Cloaked in the robes of a pilgrim, with a deep hood hiding his features, sleeves hiding his hands. Unlike many monks or pilgrims, his robes were not a humble brown, but a brilliant white. Yet for how bright he was it seemed Orla’s mother could not see him from the window, only Orla could see him.
“Do not cry or scream,” said the Pilgrim. “I don’t wish to harm you, I am not as bad as I seem.”
“Who are you, why are you here?” asked Orla. “And why should I not run away in fear?”
“I go by many names, I go to many places, but am welcome nowhere, such is my plight. But you would know me as the Pilgrim in White.”
“Mother has told me about you, she tells me every night, that I should not trust the Pilgrim in White.”
“How cruel and mean your mother must be, is there anything untrustworthy you see about me?”
“You don’t seem so bad, why mother doesn’t like you I haven’t a clue, but why would she say not to trust you, if it were not true?”
“Ah, your mother like many hates strangers, people different than she. Many in this world scorn an outcast, they persecute and spit on those like me.”
“That doesn’t sound like my mother, she’s ever most kind, though a reason to hate you I can’t yet find.”
“I will earn your trust, and then you’ll see, all I ask is for apples three. I have travelled far and have not eaten in so long, will you not feed me, so I might remain strong?”
“I’m so sorry sir, I don’t wish to be crude, but I’m not sure my mother would approve of giving you food.”
“Hark! Is it not the right of everyone to eat? I ask very little, what have I done for this simple need to be dismissed, for me to starve in the street?”
“Alright, alright, I’ll get you some apples, after all they always taught us charity over at the chapel.”
“Thank you, thank you, you have a heart like no other, but just take care to not tell my presence to your mother.”
So Orla ran to her home, where her mother was cooking. And she asked politely for three apples. Her mother questioned her, it was almost dinner, she would spoil her appetite. Orla almost told her about the Pilgrim, but he had asked her not to, so in the first lie she ever told, Orla told her mother there was a passing herd of deer that she wished to feed. With that her mother gave her the three apples and Orla returned quickly to the Pilgrim.
“Wonderful! Wonderful! How much more kind than the others, you are, as bright and beautiful as a shining star!”
The Pilgrim took the apples and ate them all whole.
“I shall leave you now, and thank you for the apples! But just remember for next time, while I am around, never mention nor talk of things like the church or a chapel.”
So the Pilgrim left and Orla went about her day. She thought it strange how reasonable the Pilgrim seemed to be, yet her mother still warned not to trust him. Every night for the next seven nights, Orla’s tongue burned with questions about the Pilgrim, and with the truth that she had met him and trusted him. But she remained silent, fearful she would get in trouble and be punished. And so without interruption, her mother would repeat:
“From dawn to dusk, noon until night,
While you’re with me, you won’t know fright,
Never run away or leave my sight,
Never trust the Pilgrim in White.”
On the day after the seventh night, the Pilgrim would return, at the edge of the woods, beckoning to Orla. Like before, it seemed only she could see the Pilgrim and her mother couldn’t, so Orla approached him.
“Hello, Hello my darling friend, I’ve come to you for a fix,” the Pilgrim said. “Last time I asked you for three apples now I need six.”
“Oh but sir we aren’t that wealthy and apples we only have a few,” Orla said. “Maybe there are others that can help you?”
“Bah! Girl, did you forget? Everyone shuns me, they see me as a threat.”
“Still, my mother only has enough to give us a meal, maybe if we talked with here we could come to a deal?”
“No! No! Your mother is mean, and I fear that if you tell her I shall be banished, and you shall be punished and made to clean.”
“But what can I do, sir? My mother isn’t slow, if I keep asking her for apples she will surely say no.”
“Steal! Wisk the apples away, this is how you can feed me, this is the only way.”
Orla wished to tell him that stealing was wrong, for that is what they taught at the Chapel. But she remembered that the Pilgrim had asked not to hear of such things. Not wishing to be rude, Orla returned to her house, very unsure of what to do. She saw mother in her rocking chair, knitting Orla a garment for the coming winter, and Orla wished to tell her everything. But how could she? Her sweet mother had always been kind, how could Orla tell her that she had disobeyed her? But she also wished to be kind to the needy Pilgrim, so with guilt in her heart, Orla quietly stole six apples and returned to the Pilgrim.
“Amazing, a virtuous women you’ll be, at least if you continue to listen to me.”
The Pilgrim took his leave and Orla returned home. Feeling guilty as her mother would take notice of the missing apples, counting over the amount they had and muttering to herself how they had gone through them so fast. She told Orla they would have to be careful and eat fewer apples from now on, never suspecting that her obedient daughter could have stolen them.
Seven nights passed again, and the day after the seventh night the Pilgrim returned again. Orla marched up to him, rather annoyed.
“Come to ask for more apples again?” she said. “Well you can’t have any, I won’t steal you more, I must make this plain.”
“No matter, I tire of apples, and do not worry you won’t need to steal,” the Pilgrim said. “All I ask is for your dinner meal”
“My dinner? But that’s mine, and if I don’t eat properly I’ll grow thinner.”
“Ah! But you eat every day and have a home, compared to me, you are a princess, and with beggars and paupers do I roam.”
“I’m sad for you, but I have to eat, to give up a meal is no small feat.”
“Hark! Does your chapel not teach you to give? To be charitable and to forgive?”
“Yes it does sir, but I don’t understand, just the other day you scorned the chapel and church, yet now with their teachings you would make this demand?”
“Gah! How mean and cruel you are to this sinner, you are just like the rest! Don’t you wish to be kind and good? Why won’t you offer me but half your dinner?”
Orla did wish to be good, and she felt guilty for not helping the Pilgrim. And giving him half her dinner was more reasonable than all of it; and he was right, though Orla and her mom were not rich they had far more than the Pilgrim. So Orla bid the Pilgrim wait, and soon dinner came, Orla ate only half her share and with a still hungry stomach she sneaked the rest out to the Pilgrim.
“Wonderful! Hip Hip Hooray! Because of your kindness, I shall not starve another day.”
So Orla went to bed that night still hungry, though that upset her, she was glad she had made the Pilgrim happy and done kindness to him. And she had done so without lying or stealing again.
Once again the seven nights past, and once again the Pilgrim came.
“Hello my love, you know the deal, I once again require your dinner meal.”
“Sir, you made due with just half last time, and I have already given you three apples then six, how much more do you need until you feel sublime?”
“Do not lie to me, how mean of you! Last time you gave me a full meal, and apples? I have only ever gotten four apples, that much is true!”
Orla remembered three apples, then six, had she forgotten? She had certainly been hungry after the last time she gave the Pilgrim food, maybe it had been her whole meal. The Pilgrim saw her hesitation and spoke again.
“Oh my poor sweet, I do not cry, I am only ever so hungry, and I knew with how kind you were you would never deny.”
Orla did wish to be kind, as she had always been taught to. So with great difficulty she sneaked out her whole plate of food to the Pilgrim, who helped himself joyfully.
“Yes! Yes! This is great. Thank you, my beloved, they will sing your praises when you reach the gate.”
When Orla went to bed that night, her stomach twisted and burned with hunger, it was oh so painful. So much that she began to cry, she couldn’t help it. And quickly enough, her mother came in to see what was wrong. Orla was far too distraught to tell her everything, only that her last meal had been given to the Pilgrim in White, but Orla told her nothing of all the other times he had met with her.
“My darling, what did I tell you about the Pilgrim in White, we will speak no more until you’ve had a bite.”
So Orla’s mother quickly made her a meal and had her eat, which made her feel far better, but even the small amount of disappointment that crept into her mother eyes and voice was too much. She cried and apologized, but still couldn’t tell her about all the other times she met with the Pilgrim, she couldn’t bare how that would upset her mother.
“Hush little one, I forgive you, but now listen closely for what you must do. These Pilgrims, they always lie, they’ll ask for more and more, forever until you die. They prefer to speak to children, as they are often kind, and to their twisted ways children can often be blind.”
So Orla went to bed, and slept soundly for seven nights, then eight, then nine, then more. It seemed the Pilgrim would leave her alone, still Orla did not tell her mother about stealing the apples or lying to her. She hoped she would never need to.
On the day after many sevens of nights the Pilgrim came again, but not to the edge of the wood, no. He was so bold as to come right up to Orla’s bedroom window, and tap on it with a single gnarled finger.
“Pilgrim! Go away! I shall no longer be your servant, I shall not be your prey!” Orla said.
“Oh sweet Orla, my beloved dear,” The Pilgrim said, Orla had never told him her name. “What happened to your kindness and your cheer?”
“My mother warned me, told me what you do, told me of the evil and the lies you spew!”
“But have I ever lied? Have I ever asked any more than I deserve? Have I ever tried to hide?”
Orla was upset and confused, she couldn’t remember the Pilgrim lying, and all he had ever asked for was for food. Yet mother had been insistent. The Pilgrim spoke again.
“You accuse me of lying, but you lie and steal. How about this, do one more favour for me and I shall leave forever, let's make a deal.”
“I will keep your secrets, I won’t tell a soul,” the Pilgrim said. “All I ask is that you come with me, or else I promise in your stockings from now on you’ll only get coal.”
“Come with you where? I can’t go far, I have to eat breakfast, I have to go to morning prayer.”
“Prayer won’t be needed, and if you don’t come you’ll be shunned. I’ll tell of your lies and your thievery, I’ll tell everyone!”
Orla was fearful for what her mother would say, what her friends would say, if they knew she was a liar and a thief. The Pilgrim never asked much, so if she could send him on his way with one last favour, then that would be good. With that, Orla opened her window, and took the Pilgrim’s hand.
We don’t know what happened to Orla after that, she was never seen again. Her mother wept and wept and wept. She blamed herself of course, saying to everyone how she could have warned her daughter more, protected her more, watched over her more. Men of the village would search the woods for the Pilgrim, but could never find him, priests would pray for Orla’s soul, but hope waned.
Through the years many other children saw the Pilgrim, many even spoke with him. But thankfully, many had learned from Orla, and better knew how to not fall for his tricks. Things would move on, and anyone visiting the village of Sabhail would think nothing odd about it. Save for a strange thing the mothers said to their children, before school, before they went off to play with friends, before tucking them into bed.
“From dawn to dusk, noon until night,
While you’re with me, you won’t know fright,
Never run away or leave my sight,
Never trust the Pilgrim in White.
He’ll come asking for food,
or for water, only a drop.
For kindness and charity,
But he’ll keep asking for more,
He won’t ever cease, He’ll never stop.
He’ll take advantage of your good soul,
Your faith and your prayer,
But in the end, he doesn’t care,
He’ll eat you up whole.
So teach your children to keep in sight,
Teach them when they’re with you, they won’t know fright,
Teach them that some people lie about their plight,
Teach them that when demons and devils come to them,
They won’t always look like Pilgrims in White.”
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