Michel's feet hurt. It's not old age; he's only forty-six years old. It's the beginning of gout spreading through his body . Where can he get a cure for his illness? It's the middle of the fifteenth century, and in the French town of Salon, no one has yet found a cure for gout. He knows this very well, he himself is a doctor, and not just a doctor, but one of the most famous doctors of his time.
Michel, a brilliant boy whose parents sent him to study medicine in Montpellier when he was only nineteen years old, later obtaining his doctorate seven years later, not only that, but he discovered recipes for treating the Black Plague, the cursed disease that swept through Europe more than a hundred years ago, and continues to strike the country every now and then.
In his large house in his country, "Salon", he lived with his wife "Anne", and he had made the attic a place where he could seclude himself to write. On this day, he was about to leave it, and he thought that he would walk outside a little to smell some fresh air that might ease the severity of his pain.
He kept as far away from the crowd as he could, for the churchmen were still after him because of his long-standing accusation of heresy, and although he was innocent of that charge, he was still a Catholic Christian, and although when he saw the workman casting a statue of the Virgin Mary he said that he was casting a statue of devils, meaning at the time that the statue itself was full of defects that made it not at all like a saint. But the Inquisition was merciless; it pursued him, accusing him of heresy and of blasphemy against the Holy Virgin, and he had no choice but to flee from the ecclesiastical authority in Montpellier to Sicily, until he finally settled in the town of Salon.
And that day, after he was assured that no one was following him, he closed the door behind him, got into the carriage and went. To reach his destination, it took him half an hour to walk through the city streets in his horse-drawn carriage, then a ten-minute walk to the picturesque fields of Provence and from there to his favorite spot, the spot where he sat leaning against a statue by Giotto di Bondone, the famous French Renaissance artist, looking out over the lush field in front of him, looking up at the sky until it was tinged with the first rays of light, communing with his loss: his first wife, Marie, and his two children who were swallowed by the plague, and his second and third wives who met the same fate.
He was looking at the sky at that very moment, wondering: " Why? You have bestowed upon me, O God, a unique blessing. You have made me an incomparable doctor even in the face of the most deadly diseases, and yet I have been able to save many people except my beloved family. What is the use of all this? " He remained like this as if praying until the sun completed its bright glow in the sky, then he gathered his thoughts and returned home again.
This morning he returned and his wife, Anne, had gone to Sicily to say her last farewells to her mother after they had sent for her, so Michel decided to occupy his time in her absence by completing what he had begun of writing the New Year's Calendar, which the farmers were eagerly awaiting because of the weather forecasts and valuable information it contained for their profession. They had tried it in the previous calendar of the previous year and most of what it predicted had come true , and they had made the best use of it in their investigation of planting dates and rainfall.
Here he is, back home, sleepy, and hoping for a few hours of sleep, then getting up to resume his writing. After making sure all the doors in the house are locked, he is on his way to his room when something stops him. Something is wrong . This book, who put it there? He swears he left it on top of this wooden shelf last night. Wait, and this cup, who filled it? He is home alone, his wife hasn't come back yet, and he is not old enough to do things he will forget later.
While he was lost in thought, he was interrupted by a noise coming from the attic. His senses were alerted, so he leaned over to the wooden shelf and put the book in its place. Then he felt underneath it and took out an ornate metal box similar to the boxes in which they keep gold jewelry these days. He opened it and took out the papers and books inside it to reveal a small, shiny dagger. He drew it and prepared to go up to confront and deter this intruder . After he had made a lot of money from publishing his latest book about his special recipes for treating the plague, his house had become a target for many ambitious thieves, so he decided to keep this small dagger to make him feel a little safe and ready to defend himself.
The commotion is getting louder upstairs, he feels his way up the stairs with his dagger in front of him, he calls his wife by name in case she returns, he waits for a response in vain, now he is approaching the door, he grabs the handle to turn it slowly, he enters suddenly to surprise the intruder.
But inside, he is shocked .. His eyes widen, and the dagger falls from his hand; there was a person sitting in front of him, flipping through his calendar and looking at him with a smile. The strange thing about this person was that he was not a stranger, the strange thing was that Michel was seeing someone he knew well, for Michel was seeing another Michel, as if he was looking in a mirror, another version of himself sitting in front of him indifferently .
Perhaps after two years of complete silence, Michel cried out:
- "Who are you?".
The other replied calmly:
" Haven't you figured it out yet? It's me."
Some words came out of his trembling mouth, words that had no meaning, as if it were a special language that came from another planet inhabited by terrified people, but perhaps the stranger translated them. He replied calmly:
" It's me too, Michel Notre Dame."
He was not at an age to bear the shock, his feet gave way to all his attempts to stay still, and although he held on to the table, a veil began to rise gradually over his eyes until it devoured his vision, leaving darkness, and the time came for him to fall and lose consciousness.
*****