The Secrets of the Wild Wood

by Tonke Dragt

  Sir Ardian interrupted him. “I know this sword,” he growled. “It is from the Cavern by the Chasm.”

  The Red Rider recoiled, but Kraton strode up to Ardian and cried, “No! That is a lie!”

  “My master, the prince, knows this sword, too,” said Ardian. “It is the Weapon of Woe – not perished as we had thought, but still sharp and lethal. This sword is poisoned!”

  A few moments of appalled silence followed. Sir Kraton looked as if he had been hit in the face. “No…” he said again, almost inaudibly.

  “Prince Iridian is the victor,” said King Dagonaut, his voice shaking with fury or pain. “But he will not live to enjoy the peace and he will not see tomorrow’s sunrise.”

  After an eternity – or was it just a minute? – he spoke again. “The King of Eviellan is doubly dead, as he leaves a name that is devoid of honour.”

  “I did not know,” said Kraton. “I did not know!” As he looked in bewilderment at the king, it was clear that he was speaking the truth. “Then I have always served the wrong master,” he continued. “Now everything truly has come tumbling down. I am without king, without castle, without land, and my memories are destroyed… May the King of Eviellan be cursed!”

  “Silence!” cried Ardian. “You never truly knew or understood your master; even now you do not understand him – or you would feel more pity than fury. Do your duty and take his men back to their land in the south. Be their commander and leader. May you be strong enough to fight the difficulties that will await you in Eviellan.”

  Kraton did not reply; his face was grey and drawn. But he grimly held his head up and departed.

  Sir Ardian quickly returned to the crown prince’s tent and was soon followed by King Dagonaut.

  Beside the tent hung Iridian’s banner, the colours of King Unauwen.

  Tiuri and Piak stood together, blind to what was happening around them. They looked only at the banner and at the tent. Prince Iridian lay inside the tent, dying of the slight wound that the King of Eviellan had inflicted upon him. Sir Ardian had said nothing would save him.

  They did not know how long they had been waiting when Sir Ardian came back out of the tent. They saw on his face what he had not yet spoken. He stood beside the banner and the two friends watched through a haze of tears as he slowly lowered the seven colours.

  13 ON THE RIVERBANK

  Tiuri and Piak stood beside the High Bridge, which had now been rebuilt and was wider and more handsome than the original. On the other side of the river was the burnt forest. It saddened them to see it.

  The war was over, but at what price! Prince Iridian was dead; he had been lying for weeks now in the grave on the spot where he had fought his last fight – buried beside his brother and opponent. Both had been laid to rest with their swords, but only the white shield had been placed on the mound over the grave.

  “The Prince of the West lives on in our memory,” King Dagonaut had said, “in everything he was and everything he did. What he won shall not be lost!”

  The army of Eviellan had left, as had the army of Unauwen. Sir Ardian and Tirillo had returned to the west to tell King Unauwen that from now on he would rule alone in his magnificent city. Here, beside the Black River, they had said farewell to Tiuri and Piak. The two friends could still remember their words very clearly.

  “My heart is sad,” Tirillo had said, “and yet soon I must try to bring a trace of joy to Unauwen’s palace. My king has the heavy burden of government to bear alone once again – until Iridian’s son is old enough to help him. And I am a jester; I shall never again be a squire. I am the jester of King Unauwen and I know which song I shall sing first. I think of it constantly. Prince Iridian loved these words and often asked me to sing them for him.” And Tirillo had sung the same words for Tiuri and Piak, quietly and in a soft voice:

  Now I’ll lay down my sword and shield,

  on the river, by the shore.

  No more for me the battlefield,

  No more the cries of war.

  Then Sir Ardian had spoken to them and the last thing he had said was this, “If you can be spared here, then go to visit Menaures, the hermit in the Great Mountains.”

  Menaures…

  He was King Unauwen’s brother, although very few people knew that. Piak would have been happy to leave right away. The hermit’s cabin in the Great Mountains – how he longed to be there!

  And the road to Menaures goes past Castle Mistrinaut, thought Tiuri. Lord Rafox was back there now, and he had promised to go and visit him, him and his daughter. Lavinia – it seemed so long ago that he had said farewell to her.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Piak.

  “About everything I have to tell Lavinia,” replied Tiuri. “I realized that she never met Prince Iridian. Will she ever know just what he was like?”

  He turned around and looked at the Tarnburg. He saw the window of his prison and suddenly felt that he would never be able to play another game of chess.

  King Dagonaut had taken up residence in the castle for the time being; he truly was king of this territory now. Yesterday he had summoned the Master of the Wild Wood – and spoken to him for a long time. And now, today, the king would leave and return to his city. That was why Tiuri was there; he and his squire were to see Dagonaut off at the High Bridge. The real farewell had been early in the morning, when they had said goodbye to Tiuri the Valiant as well. He would be riding in the king’s company.

  Sir Ristridin and Bendu were staying in the forest, as was Evan, the only one of Unauwen’s knights who had not yet left. The rightful lord would return to the Tarnburg. Tiuri wondered if Tehalon was pleased about that; after all, he did not like the castle.

  The procession of men approached; King Dagonaut in the lead, with Tiuri the Valiant beside him. Adelbart was also in the company; he was to become Guardian of the Forgotten City once again. But that city would no longer be called “forgotten”. Other people would most likely go to live in that place, and the roads leading there would become easy to find. The Road of Ambuscade would again be called the Second Great Road, and would be extended from the Owl House to the City of Dagonaut.

  The king stopped for a moment before crossing the bridge and spoke a few more words. He also turned to Tiuri.

  “Sir Tiuri,” he said, “after discussion with Sir Ristridin I give you leave to visit Menaures next week, on a pilgrimage to the Great Mountains. You must report back to my city at the end of the summer.”

  Tiuri the Valiant nodded at his son and his son’s friend again, and then the hoofs thundered over the bridge. King Dagonaut and his company rode to the east.

  As Tiuri and Piak watched them go, Sir Ristridin came to stand with them. “I expect,” he said, “that the king will command you to return to the Wild Wood.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll be back,” said Tiuri.

  Red Quibo joined them and asked Ristridin, “And what about you, my lord? What are your plans?”

  “Sir Bendu, Evan and I are to remain here,” replied Ristridin. “There is still much to do. The wood is just as wild and it may still be dangerous, even though Eviellan has now departed. So much of it remains unexplored. But you, Quibo, know that you are free to return to your own village.”

  Quibo coughed and said sheepishly, “Sir Ristridin, I am willing to stay with you. To be honest, that is, in fact, my will and my wish!”

  “And, also to be honest, it is as I expected,” said Ristridin with a smile. “I can put you to good use, Quibo, because I want to ensure that a proper road is made through the Unholy Hills.”

  “Your mockery almost makes me regret my decision!” cried Quibo. “I do not like those hills! A proper road… With signposts?”

  “With signposts.”

  Red Quibo looked worried, but then his face lit up. “Yes,” he said, “I can certainly see one advantage of such a road: it will lead us all the faster to Islan!”

  “Your only fault, Quibo,” said Ristridin, “is that you talk far
too much.”

  “Oh, but I love words!” cried Quibo. “With words you can say what you are thinking… or hide it…”

  Islan… thought Tiuri. That is where the adventures began. He looked at Ristridin and asked, “Are you planning to return to Islan?”

  Ristridin did not answer immediately. “Who knows?” he said then. “My memories of that place are not so fond, as you know, but I have seen a different side of it. And Lady Isadoro will be a good mistress of the castle. Shall I send her your regards when I am there?”

  “Yes, please do,” said Tiuri, and he continued hesitantly, “The Lady of Islan… I never truly understood her.”

  “You are not the only one,” said Ristridin. “But,” he added after pausing, “that is also true of others. Do you understand Lavinia entirely, or yourself? Probably not, if you take some time to think about it.”

  “Exactly what I wanted to say,” remarked Red Quibo. “Words are often untrue, thoughts so hazy, and…”

  “Come, Quibo,” said Ristridin, interrupting him. “Bendu and Evan are waiting for me in the castle. Are you two coming as well?”

  “We’ll be along soon,” said Tiuri.

  When Ristridin and his squire had left, the two friends stood together for a while, looking thoughtfully at the turbulent water below. Piak sang softly:

  Now I’ll lay down my sword and shield,

  on the river, by the shore.

  No more for me the battlefield,

  No more the cries of war.

  And suddenly Tehalon was standing beside them.

  “That is an old song,” he said. “It is often forgotten, but then people remember it and sing it anew.” He fell silent for a moment and continued, “The High Bridge has been rebuilt, and soon many people will see it, everyone who will travel along the Great Road, from east to west and from west to east. And anyone who wishes may cross the bridge to greet the lord who will live in the Tarnburg.”

  “The Master of the Wild Wood,” whispered Piak.

  “No,” said Tehalon. “The Lord of the Tarnburg will no longer be the Master of the Wild Wood. He will merely be a vassal of King Dagonaut. But, like his forefather long ago, he will obey the king and love peace. I know that will be so, for he is my son.”

  “Your son? What about you?” asked Tiuri.

  “I will withdraw to the north of the Green River, where there are still places no one knows. Never will all of the secrets of the Wild Wood be revealed!”

  Tehalon looked at the two friends. “Farewell,” he said. “Do you see that the dry branches are sprouting again? A new forest will cover the scorched earth, and there, too, will be paths I shall tread.”

  He turned on his heels and crossed the bridge.

  Tiuri and Piak stood and watched him go until he had disappeared from sight: Tehalon, the Master of the Wild Wood.

  Epilogue

  SUMMER IN THE MOUNTAINS

  Piak raised his face to the eternally snow-covered mountaintops, which glistened in the sun.

  “Go to visit Menaures,” Sir Ardian had said, and now Tiuri and he were on their way – upstream along the Blue River to its source. That was where the hermit lived, in the Great Mountains between the kingdoms of Unauwen and Dagonaut.

  It was a warm summer’s day and they were walking slowly, Tiuri leading Ardanwen. At the point where the path became narrower and steeper they stopped for a moment and read the words carved into the stone.

  Pilgrim climbing to the heights above,

  may you travel with God’s love.

  And, dear friend, as you go,

  pray for us in the valleys below.

  Before continuing, the two friends looked back at the flat land they had left behind and thought about the people they knew there.

  They could see nothing of the Wild Wood now. But the Blue River flowed past Mistrinaut and the City of Dagonaut and on past Castle Tehuri. They had broken their journey at Castle Mistrinaut briefly and would stay longer on the way back. Lord Rafox also wanted to visit the hermit, but he would set off a few days later, accompanied by Lavinia. So the four of them would journey back to the east together. But now Tiuri and Piak travelled the path to Menaures, just the two of them, as they had gone adventuring before.

  Tiuri thought: A year ago I walked here, too, with the letter for King Unauwen. Then I did not have Ardanwen with me, as he could not come with me across the mountains. And I had not yet met Piak. A year ago… It feels as if I have known him all my life.

  A year ago, thought Piak, I was sitting up there on a mountain slope. And then I saw Tiuri coming, with Jaro, disguised as a pilgrim. That’s how it all began. But now we’re going only as far as Menaures’s cabin, not over the mountains to the Kingdom of Unauwen…

  And suddenly he was overwhelmed once again by the sorrow that had faded a little since their journey began. A shadow hung over the Kingdom of Unauwen. Prince Iridian, the leader of the knights with the white shields, was no more.

  Piak glanced sideways at his friend, whose face was pensive and serious, but not sad. As he saw Tiuri look back over his shoulder, he thought: His mind’s on Lavinia, of course. Later, when we’re at Mistrinaut… maybe even on our return journey, she’ll make him laugh again. One day – soon – he’ll marry her, and he won’t really need me anymore.

  Tiuri seemed to feel his gaze and he looked at his friend, with a question on his face.

  Piak quickly turned to look at the road ahead and began to sing:

  Now I’ll lay down my sword and shield…

  Yes, he thought, perhaps I no longer need to be a squire. I could stay here, in the mountains, live with Menaures and tend sheep, as I once did. I could climb and climb again, walk across the glacier and look out over the Kingdom of Unauwen, but only from a distance. If I went there, everything would have changed so much…

  These thoughts continued to occupy Piak, although he did not speak them out loud. And when he finally saw the hermit’s cabin on the green slope ahead, beneath the mighty wall of rock, his heart leapt. This was his home!

  “Are you pleased to be back?” asked Tiuri.

  “Oh, yes!” said Piak. “It’s still exactly the same. Nothing has changed.”

  The twists and turns of the path hid the hut from view at times, but they came ever closer. Then they saw a boy sitting in the meadow above the path.

  Tiuri stopped for a moment. “It’s true,” he said. “It really is exactly the same! There you are, just like the first time I came here.” He smiled as he looked at Piak and added, “But this boy is not brown as a berry and he is not playing the flute.”

  Piak did not smile, and his good mood melted away. His place here had been taken by another. This boy was sitting on the slope where he had once sat. And he greeted them with the same words, “You must be here to see Menaures.” He told them to head around the bend to the cabin. He did not hurry there himself, though, as Piak had once done, but remained sitting where he was.

  Will Menaures understand how I feel? Piak wondered to himself. Of course he will, because he knows everything.

  Soon he was looking into the hermit’s wise eyes and he felt stronger.

  “The wickedness of Eviellan has been defeated,” said Menaures, “and Prince Iridian is the victor, even though he is no longer in this world. But,” he continued, “you must remember that the fight goes on, even if we are not at war. Even the peace in our hearts is something we must always fight for.” He nodded at Piak and added, “I am pleased to see the two of you. I am old and one day I, too, will no longer be here.”

  “Why do you say that?!” said Piak, his voice trembling. “I know it’s true, but… oh, why does it have to be that way? One day you will no longer be here, and King Unauwen will no longer be here… and what then? Who will reign over the Kingdom in the West? Oh, I wish I had not said that. I…” He ran out of words.

  “The words I spoke were something you already know,” said Menaures, “even though you would rather not. But before we talk further, y
ou must first meet my young friend. Would you ask him to come here, Piak? He should be nearby.”

  Piak was happy to go back outside. In the mountain meadow, beneath the sunny blue sky, he realized it was almost impossible to remain gloomy. But then he saw that was not true for everyone.

  The boy was sitting in the same spot, but his head was resting on his knees and his whole posture radiated sadness.

  Piak remained at a distance and called hesitantly, “Hey, hello!”

  The boy looked up, quickly wiping his eyes, and then stood and turned his back to Piak, as if studying the view. Piak walked over to him and looked out as well. He could see a very long way over the Kingdom of Dagonaut; he saw the river and the towers of Rafox’s castle, hills and houses, farmland and dark forests. He did not look at the boy’s face, but simply said, “Menaures has sent for you.”

  The boy pointed one finger and said, “That forest over there. It’s not the Wild Wood, is it?”

  “No,” replied Piak. “The Wild Wood lies more to the south, beyond those hills on the right.” Only then did he look at the boy. Was it a coincidence that he had asked about that forest, of all places?

  “I’m Piak,” he said and then, startled, he fell silent.

  The boy was taller than Piak, although he was certainly no older. He stood straight, his blond hair gleaming in the sunlight. His face was calm now and his dark eyes looked questioningly at Piak.

  But Piak did not know what else to say; he just stared at that face in astonishment. He had seen it before, although it was much younger now and not yet marked by war and hardship.

  “Who are you?” he finally managed to say. “Is your name perhaps Idian… or Iridian?”

  “How did you know that?” the boy asked, also surprised.

  “It’s like seeing the prince standing before me!” said Piak. “You’re so… You are his double, my lord!”