A Hero's Tale

  "What have you done?" she asked me.

  "What do you mean?"

  She gestured at the northern army, at Bru and his men, then out over Elen's camp, still lost in fog. "According to your friends, this is all your doing, but they didn't tell me how you accomplished it."

  "That would take many days," I said. "I hardly know myself."

  "Better tell me, then, how it happens that you have an army at your command, because I believe they're preparing to do battle."

  "They are at Bru's command, not mine, though I have pledged him my help, if there's anything I can do."

  "Who is Bru?"

  "The man who came for you." I smiled. "Did you not know him?"

  Puzzled, Maara shook her head.

  "I wouldn't have known him either," I told her, "but he knew me. He and his men were once Merin's prisoners, until she set them free. They found me, lost in the forest, trying to find Elen's house. When they learned where I came from, they offered me their help, to make some return for Merin's kindness."

  I gave Maara time to take it all in.

  "They think Merin set them free?" she said at last. "You set them free."

  "Hush," I said. "They don't know that. They have already repaid me many times over. I don't want them to feel they are still in my debt."

  Maara nodded, but I don't think she agreed with me.

  "With whom is this army preparing to do battle?" she asked.

  "With the warriors of the mighty."

  "I thought the warriors of the mighty had defeated them."

  "They did," I said, "and took many of them prisoner. Their chieftains came this morning to negotiate for their release. We convinced them to help us. We made a plan, which went wrong almost from the beginning, but everything worked out all right in the end. We got you back, and the prisoners escaped."

  Maara frowned. "Do they think fortune will favor them today when she deserted them before? They must now be greatly outnumbered."

  "Not if Elen's army is divided," I said. "It soon will be. Elen is at this very moment preparing to take the field against the king's brother."

  "Why?"

  "When we went to Elen's tent, we went in under his banner, demanding your release in the king's name. Then, as if that weren't enough, Bru provoked her anger against him."

  "How did he do that?"

  "He convinced her that the king's brother had learned the truth about his brother's death."

  "What truth is that?"

  I hesitated. I wanted to take care how I answered her. I wanted to relieve her of her guilt, but at the same time I feared causing yet more harm. How would it feel to her to know that someone she once loved had used her with such cruelty?

  "What truth?" she asked again.

  "It wasn't you," I said.

  "It wasn't."

  "No," I said. "You didn't kill him. She did."

  "Bru said that?"

  "Yes."

  "How would he know?"

  "He didn't," I said. "He threw it at her as an insult, but once he said it, I knew what must have happened." I saw the doubt in Maara's eyes. "You don't believe me."

  "Do you think I never thought of that myself? I can believe it's possible, but how can I be sure it's true?"

  "Because I heard her confess it."

  Maara closed her eyes. I understood what she was doing. She was watching the world rearrange itself. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze slipped past me, into the distance. She looked a little sad.

  A cry floated up out of the fog, a distant cry, not quite human. Then a long silence. Another cry. Not a cry of pain. A long howl of grief, a keening. Then cries of alarm. Shouted orders. Battle cries.

  The cries came from far away and muffled by the fog, but understandable, their meaning clear. Elen didn't challenge the king's men to take the field, nor did she surround them and demand their surrender. She sent her warriors into their camp, hidden by the fog, to murder them.

  Maara stood up and drew me to my feet. Soon we heard the sounds of battle. The king's men were beginning to fight back. All of us, the northern army and their chieftains, Bru and his men, Maara and I, stood on the hill and watched, though we could see nothing but the fog. I reminded myself that the men who were dying there below us had come to Elen's house to watch Maara die.

  I was so intent on the sounds coming from Elen's camp that I didn't notice a man emerge from the fog on the hillside below me. Maara did. She took my arm and started to draw me up the path toward Bru and his men.

  "Wait," I said. "It's Finn."

  Behind him others came. Some I recognized as Bru's kinsmen. All were of the common folk. All were armed and ready to do battle. When they saw the northern army, they stopped, fearing a trick. Bru's men went down to meet them, to quiet their fears and explain the situation.

  Finn saw me and came to greet me. He extended his arm to me, but his eyes were on Maara. "So," he said, "this is the one."

  "This is the one," I replied. "Maara, this is Finn, whose brother left me his bow."

  Maara took his arm. "I am in your debt," she said.

  "Not at all," he said. "Rain falls where water flows."

  I didn't know what he meant by that.

  Bru came and joined us. "What news?" he asked Finn.

  "Whispers have gone round the camp," said Finn. "Watch for something unexpected." He grinned. "Late into the night they were telling stories of the king's return, not the false king they had been expecting, but the king lost to them of old. I heard songs sung last night I haven't heard since I was a boy.

  "They awoke this morning and remembered. Then they watched the queen behave as if she had lost her wits. They expected signs, and they saw them everywhere. They woke to the sounds of murder, the killing of the king's men. The fog hid the horrors from the eye but not from the ear. They wanted no part of it. Half of them have already left the camp. Some will go home, but many more will join us."

  Men were still coming out of the fog. Bru's men took charge of them, assembling them around their leaders, keeping them away, as much as possible, from the warriors of the northern tribes.

  "We must soon make our move," said Bru. "When the fog lifts, I want everyone in place."

  "What can I do?" I asked him.

  "Stay here," he said. "Stay safe. I will have need of that subtle mind of yours when the fighting is over with."

  Bru had already spoken with the chieftains of the northern tribes and the war leaders of the common folk. He had made his battle plan. He explained it to Finn and me, while his men made certain everyone was ready. Bru meant to leave half the northern army on the hilltop, spread out as much as possible, to look as threatening as possible. When the fog lifted, they would be clearly visible from the camp. Their main purpose was to intimidate, but if Bru needed them, they would be fresh, ready to join the battle where they were needed or, if things went badly, to cover a retreat.

  The other half of the northern army would approach Elen's camp from behind the tents, while Bru would take his men by way of the battlefield, to approach the camp from the east. He meant to pass through the camp, through what men of the common folk remained. He doubted they would oppose him. He believed many would join him. The northerners were to wait for Bru to engage the warriors of the mighty. Then they would crush the enemy between them.

  87. A Hero's Tale

  Bru left me with Finn and Maara. Finn remarked on how tired I looked. I reminded him that he had been awake as long as I had. In the end I gave in to his insistence that I sit down and rest, since nothing would happen until the fog lifted. Maara found a protected spot for us to sit, on grass so soft it was all I could do not to lie down upon it. Finn had brought food from Elen's camp, enough to share with us a modest breakfast.

  "I'm not sure I understand," said Maara. "Who is fighting here, and what are they fighting for? I know the northerners would like to seek revenge for their defeat, but what of those who have deserted Elen's camp? What do they hope for, if Elen is defeated?" br />
  "They hope for the king to take her place," said Finn.

  Maara looked puzzled. "Haven't we just heard Elen's warriors murdering the king's men, and perhaps also the king himself?"

  "Not that king," I said. "In the years you spent in Elen's house, did you never hear anyone speak of Totha?"

  Maara shook her head, then frowned. "I've heard the name whispered," she said. "No one dared speak it openly. I never knew why."

  "Let Finn tell it," I said. "It's his tale to tell."

  "Totha was once the king in Elen's house," said Finn. "That was a long time ago. Our people are descended from him and from those who remained loyal to him. We have never forgotten that we are in exile, nor have we lost our lineage. We can name each firstborn son of Totha's line, from Totha all the way down to Bru."

  Finn told Maara a short version of the story he had told me. "There are as many tales of Totha the king as there are winter nights," he said. "They tell of his journeys to strange and distant lands. They tell of the hardships he endured. They tell of the hardships his descendants have endured, hardships that made us strong and clever.

  "The stories tell also of the evil that befell those who betrayed him. His treacherous kinsmen quarreled among themselves. The story of their descendants is an endless cycle of betrayal and revenge. What they visited upon Totha they visited upon themselves down through the generations, until at last their power failed, and the mighty came and conquered them."

  "So the common folk of Elen's house are descended from Totha's people too?" I asked Finn.

  He nodded. "They would have lost hope, but in their darkest hour, when they had been humiliated by the mighty, Totha's heirs came back to them. The mighty didn't know the difference between us. They made us welcome. They found us useful. They employed our craftsmen. They traded with our travelers. They let our stories in. We taught them to the common folk, until they too learned to long for the king's return."

  "I hope you will soon be telling new stories in Elen's great hall," said Maara.

  "I hope so too," said Finn. "And she will be in all of them."

  "Who? Elen?" I asked.

  I had been watching Maara. I thought I had been listening too, but perhaps I had missed something.

  "Not Elen," he said. "You."

  "Me?"

  "If not for you, would any of this have come about?"

  "Oh," I said.

  "How did this come about?" Maara asked. "That's a story I would like to hear."

  Finn settled himself like the storyteller he was. "In the heart of the forest," he began, "a hunter came upon a wolf, lying curled up asleep on the forest floor. He drew his bow, but before he let the arrow fly, the wolf sprang up and changed into a girl. She was just a little scrap of a thing. Could she be a forest sprite? A fairy child? Whatever else she was, she was an archer too, and her bow had a familiar look about it."

  So Finn told his tale, while Maara listened and I remembered. He told how the hunter came to him, bringing his brother's bow. From the hunter's description of the girl, Finn knew who it must be. Since Maara too was from the house of kindness, he dwelt upon his sojourn there, where he knew me as a healer. Then Finn spoke of his brother, a man betrayed first by a northern chieftain, a man who wore a wolfskin, then by Vintel.

  As a storyteller myself, I saw what he was doing. Two threads, bright and dark, knit his tale together -- the light thread of the merciful, the dark thread of the avenger. Signs and symbols, picked out by the clarity of hindsight, revealed the hidden meaning of the tale. The wolfskin, first a symbol of betrayal, then a sign of reconciliation. The bow, brought to Merin's land and left there for me to find and carry back to them. In Finn's story, his brother was a messenger, the bow the message. It was by the bow they knew me.

  Then Finn wove in his tale of exile, of how it came about that Bru, the rightful king, had dared to take the field against the mighty. Elen, their queen, held a prisoner whom the wolf girl sought to rescue.

  "To return kindness for kindness," said Finn, "those who had once been prisoners themselves offered her their help. The girl asked only for a guide, but Bru read the signs and saw that change was coming."

  "Did he really?" I asked.

  "Well," said Finn, "he did eventually, didn't he?"

  Finn told of our journey to Elen's house, our meeting with his friend the armorer, and our supper in the kitchen yard, when I was taken into the house to serve at table. With half a wink to me, he skipped the part where I was kicked out of it. He said only that I had rejoined them to finish my meal.

  "It was then that she produced the knife," he said.

  Maara flinched. "I should have thrown the cursed thing away."

  "No," I said. "That's what got me back inside. They thought I stole it. They dragged me into the great hall and accused me before the queen."

  I stopped. I was not yet ready to revisit Elen's house, not even in memory.

  "For three days," said Finn, "we waited for news. There was no sign of her. No word. We feared the house of wickedness had swallowed her up and we would never lay eyes on her again. But then things began to happen. The queen suddenly prepared for war, and when her army marched out to the battlefield, they brought the prisoner with them. Now we would have our chance at rescue, we thought, but where was Tamras?"

  Finn leaned toward us and lowered his voice, though there was no one anywhere nearby to hear him. "That night," he said, "when we were all asleep, out of the queen's dungeon she walked, past the queen's servants, and out of the house, in plain sight down the empty street. So she came to us and told us what she'd done."

  Finn paused for effect, while Maara and I both waited to hear what it was.

  "It seems there was an army gathering in the east, intending to make war on the people Tamras came from."

  Maara nodded. She had seen it too.

  "Too late to take them a warning herself, Tamras sent an army out against their enemy."

  "How did she do that?" Maara asked.

  "Strange," said Finn, "how evil will turn back upon itself. All Tamras did was inform the queen of the presence of the army. She also told her its intentions, but the queen didn't believe her. She thought it was a trick. She led her army out and took her prisoner with her. The rest you know."

  Maara looked at me. "Not quite, I think," she said.

  She was asking me to tell her what had happened while I was in Elen's house. Did she know it was another story of betrayal? I took a breath, while I wondered where to start. Finn put his hand on my arm to stop me.

  "This is your tale to tell," he said, "but I will begin it, because it is a hero's tale."

  I shook my head and started to protest, but Finn spoke first.

  "There is an old story of a hero, a younger son of Totha, who embarked on a quest to distant lands, where he was captured and held in thrall to an evil queen. For a time he succumbed to her enchantment, but at last, by his pure heart, he overcame her. I have now seen that story told again."

  "I'm not a hero," I said. "I had no idea what I was doing. I blundered through it all."

  Finn touched my brow lightly with his fingers. "You may not have known what you were doing or how you did it, but look at the result. You set this woman free. You saved the house of kindness from the malice of their enemies. You divided the mighty and so gave Bru his opportunity. If he fails, he is the king no more. But I think he will not fail."

  Finn watched me, waiting for me to understand.

  "Whatever you took with you," he said, "whatever you may wish to call it, purity of heart, strength of spirit, greatness of soul, you took that and nothing more into the house of wickedness, and you came out of it again, bringing fortune to your friends and ruin to your enemies. If that's not a hero's tale, I've never told one nor heard one told."

  "It won't make the telling any easier," I whispered.

  "Perhaps not," he said, "but it may make the listening less painful." He turned to Maara. "Listen, but don't judge, until you've heard it all
. She is utterly truthful, and she will not spare herself."

  Then he got up and left us.

  "Finn is too kind," I said.

  "What is he afraid that I will judge you for?" Maara asked me.

  I opened my mouth to answer her, but I found I couldn't speak.

  "What are you afraid that I will judge you for?"

  "You saw it all yourself," I said. "You were there."

  "I was," she said, "and I was proud of you."

  "Proud? Why?"

  "You kept your wits about you. You spoke so well. I have seen many stand before her, men and women of the highest rank and with their wisest counselors. None of them was a match for her."

  "In the end, neither was I."

  Maara grew still. "It was a vile trick she played on you."

  "And I believed her."

  "For a time." It was half a question. In her voice I heard the hope that I had soon after come to my senses. I had to disappoint her.

  "For the whole time," I said. "I forgot you. I forgot everything but what would make me doubt you. I knew nothing else until I left Elen's house, when Bru told me you were still a prisoner."

  Once the words were out, I felt a bit lightheaded. Perhaps lack of sleep had caught up with me, or perhaps I expected her to tell me what I most feared to hear, that I was no longer worthy of her.

  "Do you doubt me now?" she asked.

  I saw in my mind's eye the image I had fixed there, of Maara running down the hill to meet me. I shook my head. "Of course not," I told her. "No."

  "Then why is it that you feel so far away from me?"

  "Do I?"

  I felt it then, the barrier between us, as I had felt it long before, when it was the walls around her heart I felt. Now it was the walls around my heart.

  "What do you need to hear from me?" she asked.

  Her voice had an edge. I didn't know what she meant.

  "Do I need to tell you that I never touched her, that I would never have allowed her to touch me?"

  That was the farthest thing from my mind.

  "I hope you would have done whatever you had to do to save your life," I said. "Where you bestow your body may not be within your power to choose. I care only for who has your heart."