Look Marion, The Sky Is Filled With Angels

What could be better for a fledgling writer of history texts than to have a sixteenth century chest in which to store your work. It seemed perfect, as if it was a sign that I was destined to succeed as an historical writer. The owner told me it had arrived just yesterday with two boxes of old papers and he quickly left to haul them out. They were very large, and after dragging them to the middle of the shop, he stood aside as I flipped through a few inches of each of them, hoping of course that they were filled with papers from the period of the desk, which would have been a great find and something worth many nights of scouring. But they were not. It seemed to be mostly personal registers, bank reconciliations and such, dating from perhaps fifty years ago. I quickly abandoned the examination of the papers without taking the time to look any further. I told him I really had no interest in them and he soured a bit. “Why not take them and give them a better look?” I told him I really didn’t need a closer look. He pressed me, asking if I were sure about not being interested in them, and I said yes. From the quick inspection I had made, there was no reason to even consider taking them out of the shop. Then I realized he was concerned I might transfer that lack of interest to the chest. I quickly reassured him that I still wanted the chest and he brightened, said that would be fine, and we agreed on a price. He asked me if I would mind grabbing one of the boxes and follow him out to the trash. He hoisted his box up, groaning under the strain and tossed it in. It broke from the weight of the papers and they spilled out over the trash already there. He turned and began to walk back into the shop. “Just toss it in, and we’ll finish up our transaction.” I hauled the box up and heaved it, it also split open. Then I saw them strewn amongst the papers. They had certainly been in the box, but far below the level I had examined a few minutes ago. Three leather covered objects. They looked like old manuscripts. I leaned over and pulled out the thickest one. It wasn’t bound, two age darkened pieces of leather wrapped with cord around pages of what seemed to be parchment. I reached for another one, but before I had dragged it out I heard the voice of the owner, I turned and he was standing in the door. I dropped what was in my hands. Inside we completed our transaction. Then I said jokingly, “No discount for not taking the boxes!” He laughed and said, “No discount, but you can still have them if you want to dig them out!” I laughed and said I might spend a few minutes retrieving some of them if he didn’t mind. “Suit yourself.”