The Letter for the King

  “Oh, I beg your pardon,” said the man. “I did not wish to impose. Please do not think that, worthy pilgrim! It is true that one travels faster on one’s own and we weren’t put on this earth to help one another, after all.” The man sighed and trudged onwards.

  Tiuri suddenly felt ashamed at his own lack of courtesy. “My good man!” he called out, as he ran after him. “Come back! I didn’t mean it. Please, come back.”

  The man went on for a few steps before stopping. “I truly don’t wish to impose,” he said.

  Tiuri blushed. “Oh, please forget what I said,” he said. “Of course you may travel with me.”

  The man didn’t need to be asked again. “Well, if you’re asking,” he said.

  “Yes, I’m asking,” said Tiuri. “And I apologize for being so unfriendly.”

  “Ah, I understand,” said the man, walking alongside him. “A pilgrim likes to contemplate. That’s the right word, isn’t it? And to reflect upon higher things. I promise I won’t be a nuisance.”

  As he looked at Tiuri, his mouth smiled, but his eyes did not. Instead, they were studying him sharply and inquisitively. Tiuri felt as if those eyes could see right through his habit to the armour beneath… and that they were looking for what Tiuri had hidden there.

  Nonsense! he thought to himself angrily. He was still ashamed of his rudeness and annoyed by his lack of trust. Suddenly he hated the letter, for making him see every stranger as a potential enemy. Sir Ristridin had warned him about spies who might look like ordinary people. Did that mean he had to reject every request for help and shun all company?

  Then he realized that his unexpected travelling companion was speaking to him. “Forgive me, what did you say?” Tiuri asked.

  “I was just telling you my name,” the man replied. “Jaro is my name. Jaro, son of Janos. I come from the valley over there.”

  Tiuri knew he was also expected to introduce himself, but he couldn’t use his own name or even the name of Tarmin, because the enemy probably knew it already. So he gave the name of one of the monks from the Brown Monastery. “My name is Martin,” he said.

  “Ah, Brother Martin,” repeated Jaro. “You are a monk, aren’t you?”

  “I have not yet taken orders,” said Tiuri.

  “Oh, I see,” said Jaro.

  The two of them walked on in silence. Tiuri went more slowly than before, but soon realized that Jaro was easily keeping up with him. He quickened his pace and told Jaro to say if it was too fast for him.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” said Jaro. “I’m not as old as all that. It’s just that I never travel up here. I don’t like it. But I’m going to visit my son who lives on the other side of the mountains. He left us five years ago. He said goodbye and off he went! I haven’t seen him since. Five years is a long time! So now I’ve finally set off to go and see him. I didn’t want to wait until I was too old and stiff to climb such a long way uphill and back down again. I may even stay there. There’s not a living soul to keep me here. My wife’s dead and I have no other family. There are paths over the mountains, aren’t there? I hope the hermit can show me a way through. I don’t dare to just go climbing without any guidance. So many people have died up there, falling off mountains, tumbling into ravines…”

  Jaro went on talking and Tiuri gave the occasional nod or a brief reply.

  “Oh dear,” Jaro said eventually. “I’ve been talking too much after all. You should have stopped me, pilgrim. I really don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Oh, you’re not bothering me at all,” said Tiuri with a smile he didn’t mean. He kept telling himself there was no good reason for it, but still he did not like his travelling companion.

  Late that afternoon, they came to a cleft in the rocks, where Jaro suggested they should spend the night. Tiuri agreed.

  Jaro chattered away happily as he made a fire and he insisted on sharing his food with Tiuri. “So,” he said, when they had eaten, “it’s time to sleep, don’t you think? We have lots of climbing to do tomorrow. Do you know how far it is to the hermit’s cabin from here?”

  “I think we should be there before tomorrow evening,” Tiuri replied. He had heard from Sir Ristridin and Lord Rafox that Menaures’s cabin was around a day and a half’s journey from the Little Blue River.

  “That’s not so bad,” said Jaro, as he lay down and wrapped his cloak around him. “Sleep well, pilgrim. Remember me in your prayers.”

  But Tiuri didn’t sleep well at all. First he waited for Jaro’s breathing to become slow and steady, but even then he couldn’t relax. His arm, which he’d barely thought about all day, was also starting to hurt again. He tossed and turned until he realized that Jaro was also moving. Then he lay still again and tried in vain to peer through the darkness. Was Jaro awake? Was he staring at Tiuri with those cold, piercing eyes? Jaro moved again and sighed, but he didn’t say anything. Tiuri gazed up at the stars and the slim crescent moon. Where will I be when this moon is full? he wondered. Finally he dozed off, but slept lightly, constantly jolting awake to listen and to check for the letter on his chest. Nothing happened, but the next morning he awoke unrested and drowsy.

  Jaro, on the other hand, was in high spirits. He praised the fine morning, the good weather, the beautiful landscape. Tiuri could hardly bear it. I wish he’d shut up, he thought irritably. And I wish he’d stop laughing so much… His eyes never smile.

  Once they got moving, though, Tiuri’s irritation lifted. It really was a very nice day and the views were magnificent. Even Jaro didn’t seem quite so bad.

  But then the river disappeared into a narrow gorge, where there was no path.

  “What do we do now?” said Jaro. “We can’t wade through the water, can we? And I think I can hear a waterfall. Are we going to have to climb up it?”

  “No,” said Tiuri. “Look, there’s a path up the cliff on the left over there. I think we need to go that way. It looks like it runs onwards along the top of the gorge, high up above the river. Do you see the ledge?”

  “Yes,” said Jaro. “Not an easy path, by the looks of it. It’s so narrow, and what a long drop!”

  “There’ll be trickier paths up in the mountains,” replied Tiuri. “Or no paths at all.”

  They started the climb. Tiuri was right; the path first went very steeply upwards and then led up a gradual incline to the edge of the gorge. They looked down.

  “Look how far away the river is already,” Jaro said.

  “I think we’re going to come out above the waterfall,” said Tiuri. “And then we’ll be able to follow the river again.”

  For a while they walked on in silence, with Tiuri leading the way, as the path was so narrow that they could no longer walk next to each other. Jaro followed, puffing and panting. But he was a good walker, and when they stopped to rest for a moment, he did not seem at all tired. As they continued on their way, the path became narrower and the sound of the water grew louder. Tiuri, who was still in front, walked more slowly, so that he wouldn’t stumble on the loose stones. He glanced down into the chasm, which was perilously deep, even though it was so narrow that a person could jump across it.

  It all happened in an instant. Jaro stumbled, falling into Tiuri and grabbing on to him. Tiuri swayed; he kept his footing, but Jaro lost his hold and started screaming as stones went tumbling into the gorge. Tiuri turned around just as Jaro slipped and disappeared. Horrified, Tiuri stood nailed to the spot, his heart racing. Then he dropped to the ground and peered over the edge.

  To his surprise and relief, he found himself looking into Jaro’s face. The man had grabbed hold of a branch growing from the rocks just beneath the ledge, and was hanging on with both hands. But he was in a precarious position. Tiuri had never seen such fear in anyone’s eyes before. Jaro was moving his lips, but no sound came out.

  “Hold on!” said Tiuri. “Hold on tight. I’ll help you.”

  He slid forward a little, reached out his hands and took hold of Jaro’s wrists. “I’ll pull you up,” he gaspe
d.

  “It-it won’t work,” stammered Jaro. “I’m too heavy.”

  “It will work,” said Tiuri. “It has to.”

  “No,” groaned Jaro. “I don’t dare let go.”

  Tiuri feared that Jaro was right and his plan wouldn’t work. Jaro really was heavy, and it would be hard to brace himself on the narrow, uneven path. “You can help,” he said. “Try to find a foothold.”

  Jaro tried, but his feet scrambled against the rock face. “No,” he groaned. “I can’t find anything to stand on. I’m done for.”

  Tiuri held firmly on to Jaro’s wrists, but he was still too scared to let go of the branch, even though it was obvious he couldn’t hold on for much longer.

  Rope! thought Tiuri frantically. If only I had some rope… Oh, but wait… He untied the rope from around his waist, but as he was doing so he realized it would still be a difficult task. The rope was short and it looked old. What if it broke?

  “I’m going to fall,” said Jaro.

  “No,” said Tiuri. “Hold on… just for a moment. Let me think.” And then he spotted something. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. A wide ledge ran along the rock face on the opposite side of the chasm, about five feet from the top. If he stood on that… “Hold on,” he said. “I’m coming to help you.”

  First Tiuri had to jump over the chasm, and that required some willpower. He took off his habit, so that it wouldn’t get in the way, and he jumped. He dropped down onto the ledge, and then turned with his back to the rock face and looked over at Jaro. “Nearly there,” he said. “I’m coming!”

  Tiuri avoided looking down as he fell forwards with his arms outstretched, until his hands were touching the opposite wall. Leaning there, he formed a bridge between the two sides of the chasm. Very carefully, he made his way towards Jaro. “I’m here, Jaro,” he said. “Lift your feet and put them on my shoulders. Then you can push yourself up.”

  Jaro turned his head and looked at Tiuri with an expression of terror on his face. Tiuri moved a little closer and repeated what he had said.

  “Can you take the weight?” mumbled Jaro.

  “Yes,” said Tiuri. “As long as you’re careful. Now!”

  “Now,” repeated Jaro. He waved his legs around, and the branch he was hanging from creaked alarmingly. Then Tiuri felt a foot on his shoulder, swiftly followed by the other foot on his arm. The foot slipped and came down on his arm again. Tiuri clenched his teeth; it was his wounded arm. It felt like some kind of bad dream, but it worked! Jaro had something to rest on now, and with a great deal of struggling – and pain for Tiuri – he hauled himself up.

  “Now help me up,” said Tiuri.

  But Jaro had collapsed onto the path, gasping for air, and didn’t even seem to have heard his words.

  Carefully, very carefully, Tiuri pushed himself back into position on the ledge. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but he managed to pull himself back up and then jump across the chasm again. He landed beside Jaro, who had still not recovered from his exertions. Trembling, Tiuri dropped down to the ground beside him. They sat together for a while, without saying anything.

  Tiuri was the first to recover. He stood up again, still shaking, and put his habit back on. He wondered if Jaro had seen his chainmail. No, he didn’t seem to have noticed.

  “Come on,” he said, as he tied the rope around his waist again. “Shall we continue?”

  Jaro bowed his head. “Just a minute,” he whispered.

  Tiuri would have liked to rest a little longer too, but a voice inside him told him that it would be better to get on their way. So he said again, “Come on. We can rest later, when we’re away from this gorge.”

  Jaro raised his head and looked at Tiuri, with those peculiar, piercing eyes. There was an expression on his face that Tiuri did not understand.

  “You saved my life,” he said quietly.

  Tiuri did not respond. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll walk very slowly and carefully.”

  Jaro started to get up. “You saved my life,” he said again, a little more loudly.

  “What was I supposed to do? Let you fall?” Tiuri answered, trying to make light of the situation. “It could just as easily have been me hanging there.” Startled by the expression on Jaro’s face, he fell silent.

  Jaro was on his feet by then and he said briskly, “Let’s be off, then.” He turned and started walking slowly onwards along the path.

  Bewildered, Tiuri followed him. He wouldn’t easily forget the expression he’d seen on Jaro’s face. What had it meant? Terror, surprise, gratitude? No, one thing: fury! But he must be mistaken. Why should Jaro be angry with him?

  2 THE HERMIT

  The path took them up above the waterfall and then alongside the Blue River, which was now a turbulent stream full of rapids. They rested for a short while and continued their journey through much gentler surroundings. The path wound its way over hills and along valleys, through pinewoods and across green mountain meadows.

  They did not speak much. The day was growing warmer and they were both weary. Tiuri’s arm was hurting, and his chainmail and his habit were slowing him down. They were not the most suitable clothes for climbing mountains. As the day went on, he noticed that Jaro’s behaviour had changed since his fall into the gorge. He had become silent and surly.

  What a strange man, Tiuri thought. There’s no need for him to be grateful, but why is he being so unfriendly now? Maybe it’s the shock. I almost think I like him better this way, though. It seems more natural somehow.

  In the afternoon, Tiuri spotted a cabin on a hillside ahead of them. A cliff rose behind it, tall and dark, with snow-capped summits beyond.

  “Look,” he said to Jaro. “Do you think that’s Menaures’s cabin?”

  Jaro just grunted. But the sight made Tiuri’s spirits rise, like a horse that knows it’s nearing the stable. As they followed the bends of the path, the cabin slipped in and out of sight. Then they heard music… a light, airy melody that perfectly suited the pine trees, the sun, and the fragrant grass on the mountain slopes.

  A boy was playing the flute in a meadow above the path, with a black-and-white sheep grazing beside him. The boy did not stop playing as they approached, but he watched them curiously.

  “Good afternoon!” said Tiuri.

  The boy put down his flute, smiled and said, “And a good afternoon to you too.”

  “Is the river’s source nearby?” asked Tiuri.

  “Just head around that bend and you’ll see it,” said the boy, pointing. “You must be here to see Menaures.”

  “Indeed,” replied Tiuri.

  “Where have you travelled from?”

  “From the east.”

  The boy grinned. “I know that much,” he said. “I saw you coming.” He was still studying them curiously.

  Tiuri liked him immediately. In his mind, he named him the shepherd boy. He was wearing few clothes and his face and his bare arms and legs were sunburnt. His short, straight hair was dark and his eyes were bright and brown.

  The boy smiled and said, “I shall let Menaures know you’re coming.” The boy put his flute to his lips again and played a few cheerful notes. When Jaro and Tiuri walked on, he leapt to his feet, climbed up the rocks above him and disappeared from sight.

  They came to a small plateau, where the river’s source welled up from between some stones. Above, on a grassy slope, stood the cabin, which was built from weathered wooden planks, with a roof of flat grey slates. It stood on low stilts and had wooden steps leading up to the open door. Tiuri and Jaro stopped for a moment to look at the water, and Tiuri marvelled at the fact that this tiny spring was the source of the largest river in the Kingdom of Dagonaut. As they made their way to the cabin, the shepherd boy came bounding from the opposite direction. He must have taken a shorter route and he reached the cabin before them. However, as the shepherd boy was about to climb the steps, a deep voice sounded from within. “It’s fine, Piak. There’s a young man who would like to speak to me. Pl
ease let him enter.”

  The shepherd boy took a step back and gestured to the travellers to step into the cabin. A thin old man appeared in the doorway, dressed in a robe of rough, blue-grey fabric. His long wavy hair and beard were as white as snow, and his face was kind, calm and wise.

  “Ah, not one visitor, but two,” he said. “Step closer and be welcome.”

  Tiuri and Jaro humbly greeted the hermit and climbed the rickety steps.

  “Come inside,” said the hermit. “Please be seated, travellers.”

  The cabin consisted of only one, humbly furnished room. The hermit sat down on a stool beside the table and pointed at a bench on the other side. “Be seated,” he said again.

  Jaro and Tiuri did as they were told. Side by side, they sat opposite the hermit, who studied them with interest.

  He must be very old, thought Tiuri, looking into the deep, dark eyes of the hermit. And wise. As wise as he is old, or even wiser. It seemed to Tiuri as if that brief, searching look had told the hermit all he needed to know and that Tiuri had no need to explain anything to him.

  Jaro shifted restlessly on the bench beside him.

  “And what brings the two of you here?” asked the hermit. “What are you seeking? Is it something I can give you? All I can do is help you to search, you know; you’ll have to find whatever it is yourself.”

  “You speak in riddles,” said Jaro, clearly feeling ill at ease. “But, as for myself, I am looking for a path.”

  “A path that leads where?”

  “Over the mountains.”

  “I see,” said Menaures. “You wish to travel to the west.”

  “Indeed, wise man, and I have heard that you know the paths in these mountains.”

  “Yes, I know the paths. But I can no longer walk them myself. I am too old.”

  “I understand,” said Jaro, after a moment’s silence. “But could you tell me which path to take?”

  The hermit shook his head. “No,” he said slowly. “The secret paths over the mountains cannot be explained to one who is a stranger to these parts.”