by R D Blake
Erick knew his voice was not fair, his range of notes limited; but he sang the simple tunes of his childhood. The birds came to gather about him and warbled in as they came to understand the melodies. Slowly, a peace pervaded the room and the invisible but palatable tension between Erick and the mistress of this fortress eased. At some point, he came to hear the cards being picked up and played once more — so did the final hours of the late afternoon and early evening pass by. The sounds, wood chips falling to the floor, cards being flipped and sorted, and the odd tune hummed or sung low when Erick thought of another one from his days in the nursery, were their sole communication.
She must have joined in at some time, crooning with him, until one song brought back other memories of his home and Erick stopped mid-stanza, hearing her light sounds, thinking of his mother and father, and how — how they must think him dead. He wondered why he had not considered their concern for him before this time. What was this place that thoughts of the kingdom to the south had seldom come to him? Erick knew this vale contained magic of some sort: the animals, this bear were proof enough of it. Was he under a spell himself? Erick considered that notion. It did not feel that way and the woman was still intent on sending him home this coming spring. Yes, Erick believed he was free in his thoughts and feelings. The bear? Well, Erick was still under his guard, but the nature of that was based on a different definition of what constituted captivity and freedom. Was it not?
It was then that Erick realized that the woman had ceased humming after he had stopped and though he deigned not to turn to face her, he felt her regard upon his back. No words had been exchanged between them since the morning, but he felt compelled to explain. So Erick talked to the bear who had awakened and was regarding him as if he too wondered why Erick had ended his singing. “My friend, that song — it was one my mother used to sing to me when I was yet a young lad scarcely able to walk. I have not thought of it in long years. I — I remember she used to hold me upon her lap and sing it softly into my ear. She and this song have led me to think of my former home. That is all. Now, allow me sing it in full to you.”
So he did. And others that came to his mind though Erick began to fear that the lady had left until sometime later he heard the clatter of dishes and the smell of a dish brought fresh out of the oven. She never ate with him, taking her own repasts to her own chambers wherever they might be within this battered ruin. It proved true again this day, but when he turned from his carving Erick discovered a flower beside his plate. He understood not its exact meaning, but one other thing Erick knew of this mistress: she loved flowers and he would assume it was meant as a gift from her and as a thank you. So he would deem it until proved otherwise.
It took several more days of whittling, shaping, sanding and painting until his new game was complete. The woman had been here in the kitchen for the most part, sitting at the far end of the table playing at the cards; he, near the fire working with the wood. The last day as he painted the pieces and the game board he spoke to the bear and the dogs and cats that loitered by the fire and explained the game: what each of the pieces were called and how they were played against each.
When all was complete, Erick sprawled out on the floor by the fire and pretended to play against the bear, talking of his moves, for though this game could be played by one its true nature was such that it was to be joined in with another. Still, the lady amused herself alone at the cards, still remaining in silence by herself.
That evening Erick left the game on the table set up to be played again the next day. When he came in the next morning, he discovered that one of the game pieces had been moved. And though the morning porridge was bubbling slowly on the stove, the woman was not in the room. Erick considered restoring the piece to his proper place; but the bear was suddenly behind him, chuffing sharply. Erick suddenly understood. She had made an offer — a first opening to something more between them. Erick sat down and pondered a response. He made his move and then turned away and gathered a bowl and served himself out of the gruel pot, and after adding a dollop of honey, ate in silence contemplating what possible strategies the lady might employ next.
But Erick knew not how the morning would turn, so after he had finished his meal he gathered a few more pieces of wood from the chamber where it was stored and returned to whittling, thinking he would carve images of the animals that were their companions here among the ruins. So as he worked away by the fireplace, pretending to ignore the woman as she finally returned and began first to clean, later chopping some vegetables and working at new bundles of the flowers they had stored away, he listened with all his senses to see if she would approach the table. Erick perceived nothing, but when he went to draw a hot beverage of tea from the stove he discovered that somehow she had contrived to move a piece. Taking his cup he stood above the table, considering and then made a countermove, afterwards stepping away to rejoin the bear and work on the meadowlark he thought hidden within the oakwood he had in his hands.
Still he heard no movement closer to the board. The sounds of cards being flipped and piled on top of each other began some minutes later. After Erick could bear it no more and amidst some trepidation, he stood up and stretched and announced to the animals gathered about him that he needed to walk a bit — that a lope down the hallway and a few breaths of cold air would waken him and loosen his muscles. As he left the room, careful not to glance at the woman who remained at the far edge of the table, he took a fleeting look at the game board. Several of her pieces had been moved!
He did not take long outside, in fact drawing in only one cold lungful of air to give truth to his words, and then he almost raced back to the kitchen only slowing down at the last moment to mask his elation. Pretending to warm his hands by the stove, he refilled his mug as an afterthought and then feigned to idly stop by the board game. Erick had not wanted to linger long, but she had surprised him by her second moves, and he had to ponder long on how to counter what she had done. Rushing his next move, perhaps too quickly, he advanced one of his own pieces from the edge of his side to the middle, blocking her own. Then he sat down to return to his carving.
Much as he strained to hear her, Erick detected nothing. But minutes later she shuffled away out of the kitchen. His curiosity could not be contained and Erick bounded to his feet from the upright log he used as his chair. His piece was off the board! Captured! When he saw how she had done it, he pulled at his hair in sudden frustration. Those first two moves had been a feint! And now his side was open and many of his other pieces were in jeopardy. This lady was not only a mystery but sly, deceiving and sharp! She must have played this game before. Well, Erick was not planning on losing and spent long minutes mulling how to reply to what she had done. And as he pondered, in his mind he could hear his old tutor who had spent long hours playing this game with him, castigating him for his foolish and poor play.
Once done, he sat down again, hardly caring to pretend he was carving, making only a few fine peels from the first wing of the lark that had emerged from the wood. Some minutes later, the woman re-entered the kitchen, the fragrance of flowers arriving with her. But this time, Erick heard her stop by the table and some sound rose from her throat. Surprise? Frustration? Erick grinned. Finally she moved on and began clipping at the stalks of the flowers rather noisily. Was she upset? Or merely impatient? Well, he was too.
Erick wanted to know how she had countered what he had done. And if — if she had seen the traps he had set up. Erick could hardly force himself to make a pretence of whittling. Placing his mug on the table, after he had surveyed the board and comprehended what she had done, he could barely stop himself from staring at her. Instead a groan emerged from his throat. Wiping at his face, he sat down to figure out how to deal with the disaster now confronting him. She would have his royal pair in only two more moves and he could see no means by which to prevent it. Sliding his eyes toward the woman, he found her with her back was to him; but she was not doing anything with the flowers. Her arms
were by her sides, her bent posture showing by hidden signs that she was waiting — waiting for him to make his next move, so she could make her own.
He could only think of one thing to do. It was rash, far too rash, but otherwise his doom was upon him. Erick took two of her pieces and put her own most valuable ones into danger. She would either have to defend them and give up her strategy or risk everything with her last moves. It would be all or nothing. But was she the type to win at all costs? And somewhere deep inside Erick, he knew he wanted to know.
He returned to the fire discovering the bear alert, looking between him and the woman. There was an intake of breath behind him. Had she seen all — the last trap which he hoped lay invisible from those hidden eyes of hers or would she gamble as he was gambling?
There was the sound of gloved fingers drumming on the tabletop. Hope rose in Erick. Maybe he had stymied her with that last set of moves — done something she hadn’t expected. He could imagine the approval his tutor would have given him and his own father for being so audacious. But he was shaken out of his meandering dreaming by the clashing sounds of pots and pans being stored away. She had made her move. Either she was irritated by his bold counter-attack or betraying an excitement.
Erick rose to his feet and the bear followed closely behind him. Despite his avidness, Erick was careful to keep his eyes on the board, away from the woman who was again at the other end of the room. He was so ready to see the board set for him to make his final moves and claim victory, but what he saw only made him moan out again in dismay. She had captured his royal personages, the figurines now sitting on the tabletop on her side of the board. How? How had she done it? He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at the woman. She had been watching him from the far side of the chamber and though she turned quickly away from him, Erick could feel the palatable glee she was experiencing. “You have outwitted me, my lady. Unmanned me as none has ever done before. If only, if only you would tell me who you are!”
She jerked at those final words and fled yet again from the kitchen, the sound of her slippered, shuffling feet echoing back to his ears. Though Erick yelled after her to forgive him for his impertinence, and it was thoroughly unnecessary, moments later he suffered under another pummelling from the bear who let it be known that Erick was again a complete and utter idiot and fool. Remorsefully, later in his own chambers, as he bound his bruised ribs and applied a salve to the torn skin on his back and shoulders, Erick found he could not disagree in the least.
______Ω______
The following day the lady made no appearance at all. Other than the bear and a few puppies, the kitchen remained empty and bare, leaving Erick with the feeling that all who lived within these northern lands had rejected him. He even had to look after feeding himself though he made no attempt at cooking, limiting himself to simply reheating the gruel from the day before and eating a few apples. Every sound made Erick want to turn about and see if she had returned, but sadly, they all proved false. As he climbed to his chamber and bed that night Erick felt more forlorn than ever he had since being brought to this hidden vale.
The next morning he stumbled into the kitchen having slept little. Even the bear had abandoned his room up among the battlements during the night and just like the previous day the kitchen was barren of life other than for the great black beast himself who Erick found curled up in front of the dead fireplace.
First things first, Erick busied himself at resetting the fire, earning an appreciative grunt from the bear who turned over and inched his black bulk closer to the mounting flames. Then hazarding a glance at the board game on the table, he discovered nothing had changed: the pieces remained set up at their opposite ends. Sighing, he rose to his feet and helped himself to a bowl of cold, congealed gruel and a piece of dried out stale bread: prison food and that was how he gloomily felt about his situation despite the growing warmth of the fire. Then Erick sat down by the bear to complete the last of the wooden morning lark.
He should have finished yesterday, but a grey glumness much like now had seized him that past mid-afternoon and there had been no enthusiasm to add the final touches. Another hour passed in silence, with only the crackle of the flames and the slow steady inhales and exhales of the sleeping bear as his sole company. Eventually, the wooden bird was finished, an image of one about to lift off a branch, its wings extended in its first beat to launch itself upwards. Erick put it down by the board game surveying it once more. If only…
Suddenly, he felt the hot, greasy breath of the bear on his neck. Then the beast came to settle himself on his haunches beside Erick, regarding the game board much as he was. “What think you, great one? If I have learn naught else from you it is that I must allow her to approach me.” And with another frustrated sigh full of regret, Erick added, “I think you know my thoughts about her. I am nigh unto being driven mad by the mysteries about your mistress. But she will not permit even the slightest amount of familiarity. What am I to do? I know she took great pleasure from our battle upon this board until — until I forgot myself and presumed the simplest of a relationship and she was hurt by that. Oh, if only I understood! And time passes. Soon it will be spring and she will send me from this place. And — and I find myself unwilling to leave.”
Idly, Erick picked up one of the game pieces. “There is nothing back there for me beyond a few close friends and my parents. Nothing else I would desire or seek to have. How can I leave her? Do not misunderstand me, my furred friend, I know you all love and protect her in your way. But is that enough? Why else am I here? Why did you along with her countenance rescuing me and bringing me back to health? I know so little, but I would deem it that you see the need in her too.”
In response, the bear brought his broad snout to the board and nudged a piece forward to a new square. “So you counsel to risk an offer? But that is not what you taught me earlier, my friend. She — she is to make the first move.” The giant bear swerved his head back and forth in negation and his eyes now took in the wooden lark upon the table. A rumble grew out of the chest of the beast. Moments later, several birds flew into the room bearing sprigs of flowers in their beaks and lay them beside the board.
Erick wondered at the meaning of this. His thoughts seemed slow this morning — both from lack of sleep and from the confusion he felt over the woman and these animals. Finally, he shrugged. “I will risk it then. What more could go wrong? The worst is that she would send me out into this winter as it lies about on this land. And mayhap I deserve such a judgement.”
Erick returned the piece to its original opening position and then considered and then moved several figurines to new squares. Taking the flowers and after arranging them in a vase, he placed them by the opposite side of the board, adding the wooden meadowlark as a last act. Now all was as best he could make it, but Erick worried that she would see this as a presumption and not as an offer for forgiveness and of a chance to play again — but only to play — nothing else.
Selecting another chunk of hardwood, Erick returned to his position by the fire and began to carve anew. At no time during that day or evening did he see her or sense her nearby presence. And as the hours passed by, his sadness only grew. He carved mindlessly though his hands seemed to know what image lay beneath the grain. Slowly, a fox began to emerge as his knife shaved bits of hemlock from the block. When he tired of his work, Erick drew out his lute and played — mostly sad laments, but his tunes drew the birds and other creatures back to the kitchen and its hearth to listen in. But they did not draw the woman.
The next morning, in the bitterness of the wind over the broken ramparts and the grey of a sky that promised a heavy burden of new snow, Erick trudged down into the fortress to where the kitchen lay. Almost he did not wish to glance at the board, afraid to see its unchanged appearance, the rejection of his offer; but to his surprise he saw that the pieces had been moved. Her pieces! The figurine of the lark was gone as were the flowers, but now there was a bouquet set out by his side. How
that heartened him and lifted him so that Erick felt well beyond the ceiling above him. He flew as the lark would have if it had been real. She had accepted!
Hungrily, eagerly, he surveyed the board, avid to form his response, to begin the game again: both on the board and with her.
There was fresh food offered on the table and a newly cooked meal in the pot warming over the stove and fresh bread on a platter. Yet more than their warmth filled him as he ate. Then Erick returned to sit by the bear who had been joined by a pack of the wolves, all of them strewn on the rushes before the fire, heaped in slumber or in casual reposes about each other. But Erick did not feel like carving. The fox in the wood would be too a slow task to match his mood.
He took out his lute and played what was in his heart: simple songs which he had performed before, ones that held a childlike joy for him. His fingers seemed to find a new dexterity and suppleness, and at least to his ears, his music sounded wonderful. More and more creatures appeared again in the kitchen and the birds added their own counterpoint melody matching him note for note. Many of the animals moved in to crowd about him. And then she came. Erick only knew it; for she was humming along in that hoarse, grating voice of hers.
Erick played on, trying to ignore her but not ignore her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her draw near to the board, appear to consider, then move a few pieces and then shuffle away to clear the stove of their morning meal and begin preparations for their next one. Yet she seemed at ease this day. Erick knew not what to do next. He continued to play on, choosing ones he thought she might like. But a nip from the nearest wolf and a few nudges from the dogs behind him decided it for him and he stopped and moved to the table to consider his next moves. After a minute’s study he saw she had left an opening for him. Almost too obvious, but was it a trick or an offer of her own — perhaps did she feel she had treated him unfairly over the last few days? Was that even possible?
