by Tonke Dragt
“If enemies find us, each of us must try to escape – to run away, Marius – and to take the news to the king.”
“To the king,” repeated the Fool.
“And now let’s go,” ordered Tiuri. “Marius, take us to the Owl House, but don’t use the path.”
The Fool was so happy to be given this task that he forgot his fear for a moment. “No one will find us, Friend,” he said, and again he led the way.
Leading the horses by the reins, Tiuri and Piak followed him silently. It seemed like hours before they saw the Owl House ahead of them. Tiuri decided that they would pass behind the building and find a place to hide for the night some distance away in the forest.
“We mustn’t go too far from the river,” he said, “but it seems better to avoid the paths. We can’t make a fire later, either.”
“It’s already getting dark,” whispered the Fool. “I shall listen carefully and warn you if they are coming.”
“Marius, now you really do have to tell us who they are,” said Tiuri a little later, after they had taken cover in a small hollow.
“Wait,” said the Fool. “Listen!”
“It must have been your enemies who killed Sir Ristridin’s friends,” Tiuri continued. “You surely realize they have to be punished!”
“Sssh, listen!” whispered the Fool.
From far away, very vaguely, a sound came to them. Or was it just the pounding of their own hearts? Then it was gone… All they could hear was the wind in the trees.
“Wait,” said the Fool once more.
And yes, there it was again. It wasn’t their imaginations, they really could hear it – a dull and regular thud… The sound of drums!
After a while, it stopped, but then it began again. It was so threatening and ominous in the night.
“It’s them,” whispered the Fool, when all was silent again.
“Are they coming here?” asked Piak, so quietly it could barely be heard.
They huddled together in the darkness, unable to see one another. Keeping perfectly still, they listened. There it was again! No, it wasn’t coming closer – but it wasn’t moving away either.
“They’re in the trees,” said the Fool.
“Who?” whispered Tiuri.
Again they waited in silence until the drumming died away.
“The drums,” the Fool told him quietly. “The drums are in the trees and they speak to one another. But I don’t know what they say.”
“Is it the Men in Green who are drumming?” asked Tiuri.
“Maybe,” replied the Fool. “But maybe others. Many creatures live in the forest… Bad men in strange clothes, and men in coats of metal who have no faces…”
“No faces?” repeated Piak with horror in his voice.
“Helmets,” whispered the Fool. “All you can see is their eyes, wicked, angry eyes.”
“Closed visors,” murmured Tiuri.
“They came to my cabin,” the Fool told them, “and they said to my brothers, ‘Come with us.’ I had to go too, and I didn’t want to, but you know that. They took us with them, me and my brothers, far, deep into the wood… The path along the dark river is long, much longer, and that’s where they live. And there are other paths. But sometimes they tied something over my eyes so I couldn’t see. I did see some things, though. I saw the Owl House and other houses of wood and stone.”
“Is that where they lived?” whispered Piak.
“Not in the Owl House, but in other houses,” said the Fool. “And I saw the Men in Green sitting in the trees. They look at you and then they’re gone. They run beside the water with long spears in their hands, sharp spears…”
“But what are they doing in the wood?” asked Tiuri.
“I cannot say,” replied the Fool. “They told me nothing, nothing, Friend! They wanted to make more paths, and my brothers and I had to cut down trees for them. We weren’t allowed to leave, and no one is allowed to know that they are there. That’s what they said. ‘Keep your mouth shut,’ they said, ‘or we’ll beat you to death.’”
Tiuri could feel him shivering. “And then you ran away?” he asked quietly.
“Not for a while, Friend,” said the Fool. “I was scared. They were bad men. At first I was too scared, but then I had to go. I knew I’d die if I stayed…” His voice was trembling. “I ran away, one night,” he continued. “They didn’t notice at first, but then they came after me, cursing me, looking for me, but they didn’t find me.” He paused before concluding, “That’s it, my friends. That’s all I know. It’s not the first time I’ve heard the drums! I was in the woods for a long, long time, walking, hiding, waiting…”
Then Piak grabbed hold of Tiuri. “What’s that?” he whispered. “Light!”
Tiuri was startled for a moment, but then he said, “It’s just the moon rising.”
“Phew,” sighed Piak. “I’m jumping at everything.”
All three of them held their breath and listened to the mysterious sounds of the night. They could no longer hear the drums.
Then Tiuri spoke up. “The second message from Sir Ristridin was false!” he said. “The message Sir Fitil passed on to us…”
“So do you think Sir Ristridin ever went to Islan?” asked Piak.
“That is indeed the question,” whispered Tiuri, and then he stopped speaking. He was trying to imagine what part Sir Fitil had played in all of this. Had he lied? Did he know more than he’d said? Had he, a knight of King Dagonaut, been a traitor? Or was he in fact a victim of betrayal? Sir Fitil, who had wandered through the Unholy Hills without getting lost… how far had he travelled into the forest?
Then Tiuri remembered the story of Red Quibo, who claimed he had seen a ghostly tournament. “Were they actually people, not spirits, not some fantasy creatures?” he wondered aloud. “So where do they live? Where are their houses?”
The Fool, beside him, sat up straight. He could see him vaguely now by the light of the waxing moon. The whites of his eyes gleamed.
“They live there, and there,” he whispered, pointing to the west and to the south.
The Unholy Hills lay somewhere to their south. And, according to the Fool, there had been people at the old hunting lodge.
Tiuri thought about Isadoro. He had to admit to himself that she could have known more about it, too. That would go some way to explaining her behaviour. After all, she had done everything she could to convince him there was nothing in the Wild Wood, and yet at the same time she had also warned him about it. He sighed. These were only vague suspicions, puzzles to which he had no answer. But in any case, Islan was not the place they should go for help. Their goal had to be King Dagonaut himself, the man who had ordered Sir Ristridin to go to the Wild Wood.
The Fool spoke again, almost in Tiuri’s ear: “Their Master, their Lord and Master, lives at the end of the dark river,” he said. “Or is it at the beginning? Far, far, where the sun sets. There are mountains there and the sun goes down behind the mountains. He lives in a castle, the Master of the Wild Wood…”
A shock went through Tiuri. How did that song go again, the song Isadoro had sung?
I heard tell of a fortress grim
by mountains and by rivers wide.
“That once was so, but is no more…” he said out loud.
“Quiet!” whispered the Fool. “They said he lives beside the other river, too, in a cave…”
“Which river?” asked Piak.
“Who?” asked Tiuri.
“The Master of the Wild Wood,” said the Fool.
“Who…” said Tiuri and Piak at the same time.
“I don’t know, my friends,” whispered the Fool. “They spoke so quietly about him, never out loud. He was their Master and he told them what to do. But I never saw him, no, no, never.”
“The other river, could that be the Green River?” asked Piak.
“Yes, the Green River. I know that river, too,” said the Fool. “They fought there, the men who live in the wood, and other men. Fi
rst I heard the drums, both far and near… Then they came – knights, riders. Other men jumped out of the bushes, out of the trees… And they fought!”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” asked Tiuri.
“I don’t always remember everything at the same time, Friend,” replied the Fool. “I’d really like to forget about it all. I’m only remembering this for your sake. They fought, but I didn’t want to watch, and so I ran. I’d already got away by then. And later, by the dark river, I saw one of those knights again… your knight, the one with the green cloak and the green and grey and silver shield.”
Ristridin, thought Tiuri. So that’s what had happened: Ristridin and his companions had first defeated the robbers who lived between the Black River and the Green River. That must have been somewhere to the north of the Dead Stone. Then they’d gone to the west, deeper into the wood, to look for the Men in Green. They’d found them, and perhaps others. In any case, they’d been attacked by enemies, and none of them had ever returned to civilization, except perhaps for Ristridin. Tiuri wondered again if he had really been to Islan. It was so unlikely, almost impossible, that Ristridin would have been there and then, without saying anything, would have ridden onwards to… Deltaland.
Deltaland… did all of this have something to do with the invasion?
He pulled his blanket more tightly around himself and shivered, and it was not just because of the cold. The Fool had fallen asleep. He was groaning and mumbling, caught up in some bad dream or other. “Stop thinking now,” Tiuri said to himself. “You’re not going to figure it out, and you need to be fresh tomorrow.”
He had his own troubled dreams, about Ristridin and Ilmar, about Arwaut and the Men in Green. He heard the sound of drums again, mingling with the soft, sweet voice of Lady Isadoro as she sang. But Isadoro was on the side of the enemy. He dreamt of fierce horsemen, and he himself rode ahead of them, sometimes as their leader, sometimes as a fugitive. But, in truth, nothing at all happened, all night long.
10 ENEMIES
Tiuri looked up. The sky was clear, the sun had just risen, and dewdrops were glistening on the leaves. Piak had climbed a tree so that he could look out over the area.
“No trouble in sight,” he announced when he was back down on the ground. “But that’s not saying anything, because you can’t see much more than the treetops up there. The Owl House isn’t far. I could see one of the chimneys.”
“We’ll try to keep walking parallel to the river,” said Tiuri. “I hope we’ll find Marius’s path again. Do you know where it comes out?” he asked the Fool.
“Which path?” he replied.
“The one the black horse Ardanwen found,” Piak explained.
The Fool wrinkled his forehead. “It goes on through the wood,” he said, “but there are other paths there, too, and I don’t know all of them.”
“But that’s the way you came from your cabin,” said Tiuri.
“Yes, yes, that way, Friend,” said the Fool. “But we took detours, and it was a long time ago.”
Tiuri held back a sigh. “How long does it take to get from the Black River to the Green River?” he asked.
“I don’t know exactly, Friend,” said the Fool apologetically. “More than a day, maybe even a week.”
“Hadn’t we better take the same route as we did on the way?” asked Piak.
“Yes, that seems safer to me, too,” said Tiuri. He pointed to the south-east. “The Black River’s over there,” he said, “so let’s go that way. But I’d rather not travel along the path right now.” He turned to the Fool and added, “We’re going to see the king first, Marius, and then back home to the cabin.”
“I knew it, I knew it,” said the Fool. “I’ll go wherever you go, my friends. You know better than I do.”
“Just as well it’s not summer yet,” said Piak, trying to be cheerful, as usual. “Then everything would be even more overgrown.”
He was right. It was already bad enough. Undergrowth, creepers and prickly bushes made the going very difficult. Occasionally, Tiuri and Piak had to take out their swords to hack a way through.
“I never imagined we’d end up using our good swords for this!” Piak remarked.
Sometimes they had to change direction, as the path ahead was not clear, and by midday they weren’t sure they were going the right way at all. Piak climbed up another tree, but all he could see was “one great big mess of green”, as he put it – and no sign of the Black River. They were hot, tired and miserable, and felt hungry and very thirsty.
Piak opened the bag of provisions and closed it again. “We should wait to eat until we have some drink to wash it down,” he said.
Soon after that, the Fool said, “Ah, here comes our drink, my friends!”
And yes, there was a stream, where they could quench their thirst. They did not eat yet, though, but first walked for a way along the stream, because, as Tiuri realized, “it has to flow into the Black River.”
He was right. After a while, they came out onto the track Ardanwen had discovered.
“This is the stream we crossed on the way,” said Piak. “It was close to the Owl House. So we haven’t made much progress!”
“But we’re not lost, and that’s something,” said Tiuri.
“Let’s take a short rest,” said Piak. “We can eat and I can dangle my feet in the water.” He took off his shoes and did just that.
“I’m going to take a look around and see if everything seems safe,” said Tiuri, after he’d finished his bread. “Perhaps we can go along the track for a way. Then we can ride and we’ll move faster.”
He peered down the path in both directions. There was no one in sight. But someone might easily appear around a bend at any moment.
“We should just keep under cover, don’t you think, and walk parallel to the path?” he said to Piak and the Fool, who had both followed him. “And then back through the marsh, and onwards from there.”
Piak pulled a face, but still nodded in agreement.
“We can get on the horses now, though,” said Tiuri. “Piak, come up with me on Ardanwen.”
They rode into the wood that ran between the path and the river. Then Piak suddenly gave a little gasp.
“Wait a moment,” he said. “Oh, I’m such an idiot! I’ve left our bag of food behind.” He jumped down from Ardanwen’s back. “I’ll just fetch it,” he said. “It’s down by the stream. You two ride onwards. I’ll be back soon and I’ll catch up with you.” He ran off and soon disappeared from sight.
Tiuri and the Fool rode on very slowly. Marius raised his head and sniffed the air, as if he could smell something strange. Then he looked at Tiuri and said, even though there was nothing to see, “They’re coming!”
“How…” Tiuri began and then he heard sounds, somewhere behind him – clinking, a voice in the distance… It wasn’t Piak – where had he got to?
“Away!” he ordered the Fool, but Marius hesitated.
“Come on!” Tiuri urged Ardanwen onwards. The horse sped forward and started to canter, breaking twigs and branches and swerving to avoid tree trunks. He glanced back; luckily, the Fool was following him. But Piak, where was Piak?!
He had no choice, though. Danger was close at hand, and he had to flee.
Then a number of helmeted men loomed out of the undergrowth. They tried to block his way with lances and spears. Ardanwen reared up.
“Danger!” cried Tiuri. “Danger! Flee! Flee!” He drew his sword.
He heard the Fool shriek somewhere behind him. Then there was a yell; it sounded like Piak. And meanwhile he fought to defend himself. He managed to shake off the men, and Ardanwen took him to the path in just a few leaps. There was more shouting and the sound of hoofs. And then he saw the Fool; other men, dressed in green, had pulled him from his horse. And along the path, more enemies came riding towards them from the direction of the Owl House. But he did not see Piak.
“Flee! Flee!” he shouted again, as he prepared to make a rescue atte
mpt, although he wondered if he shouldn’t be trying to get away himself. But Marius was so anxiously crying for help!
Tiuri drove apart his friend’s attackers, but by then the horsemen had reached them. The ensuing fight was a short one. Tiuri defended himself valiantly, but he was no match for such superior numbers. Within just a few moments, he and the Fool had been overpowered. Their enemies surrounded them: soldiers in chainmail, and rough fellows in ragged clothes, and men dressed in green with black caps on their heads. Ardanwen whinnied in anger at being held fast by so many hands. The Fool whimpered softly.
But Piak was nowhere in sight. Tiuri prayed he had escaped.
“A knight with a white shield!” cried a fierce-looking man, bringing his face very close to Tiuri’s. Tiuri couldn’t help taking a step back.
A murmur spread throughout the others.
“Sir Tiuri and his squire!” cried a horseman in brown and yellow, who had just joined them. He did not raise the visor of his helmet, but his voice sounded familiar to Tiuri.
Brown and yellow. Weren’t they the colours of Islan?
“Whatever possessed you to attack me?!” began Tiuri. “Highway robbery is forbidden in the Kingdom of Dagonaut.”
A few of the men laughed mockingly. “We are no robbers,” said a man dressed in green, who was clutching Tiuri’s shield and sword.
“You are our prisoner,” added the fierce man.
“No, he is our prisoner,” said the horseman in brown and yellow.
“No, we are taking him with us,” said the fierce man. “Those are our orders.”
“Where to?” replied the horseman.
“To where our path takes us,” said the man wearing green. And, grabbing hold of Tiuri, the fierce man shouted, “Come with me!”
“Islan!” cried Tiuri, but the soldier in brown and yellow withdrew and the other men pressed more tightly around him. The Fool huddled up to Tiuri, still whimpering.
“Shut your mouth,” one of the enemies barked.
“Leave him alone!” said Tiuri. “He is my friend and… squire. Release us this instant!” Then he stopped. The expressions of the men around him made it clear that they wouldn’t even contemplate letting him go and he didn’t want to humiliate himself by demanding something he would never get.
