The Letter for the King

  “That is a pity,” said Jaro quietly. But he didn’t actually sound very disappointed at all. Menaures’s response had alarmed Tiuri, though. But, he thought, perhaps his answer will be different when I show him Sir Edwinem’s ring.

  “I could perhaps find a guide for you,” said the hermit, looking at Jaro.

  “Oh. That would be good. Most kind of you, holy man,” replied Jaro.

  “I am no holy man, traveller,” said the hermit. “Just call me Menaures. And what is your name?”

  “Jaro.”

  “And who are you, my son?” the hermit asked Tiuri.

  “I… I am Martin.”

  “And what brought you here?”

  “I would also like to ask you something,” replied Tiuri. “But…” He looked at Jaro.

  “Oh, I shall go,” Jaro said, rising swiftly to his feet.

  The hermit smiled. “Thank you, Jaro,” he said. “We can talk later and I shall see what I can do for you.”

  “My thanks, Menaures,” said Jaro. He gave an awkward bow and left the cabin.

  The hermit stood up and closed the door behind Jaro. Then he turned to Tiuri. “Speak, Martin,” he said. “No one can hear us now.”

  Tiuri also rose to his feet and said, “My name is not Martin. It is Tiuri, although my name is of no import. I am travelling over the mountains to the west. I was sent by Sir Edwinem with the White Shield. See, here is his ring. He told me to show it to you.”

  The hermit came closer and accepted the ring from Tiuri. “Sir Edwinem,” he said softly. “Paladin of Unauwen, Bearer of the White Shield… And where is he?”

  “He is dead,” replied Tiuri.

  The hermit looked at him. His expression showed no alarm, only great concern. Then he looked down at the ring. “Edwinem has met his end,” he said. “Cut down in his constant battle against evil. This is sad news indeed, but it would have been even sadder if he had met his defeat in some other way.”

  “Oh, but he did not fall in battle,” said Tiuri. “He was killed, treacherously murdered!”

  “Then that is not as grave for him as it is for those who killed him,” said the hermit. “But tell me, my son…” He took Tiuri by the arm and Tiuri could not help but flinch.

  “Ah, you are wounded,” said Menaures.

  “It’s nothing,” mumbled Tiuri.

  “Sit down,” said the hermit, “and speak, my son.”

  “But,” said Tiuri, “don’t you already know everything? You weren’t surprised to see me and you weren’t shocked when you heard of Sir Edwinem’s death.”

  “I don’t actually know,” replied the hermit, “but I suspect a great deal. Ah, it seems such a short time since Sir Edwinem first came to visit me here. He was about your age, newly knighted and burning with the desire to do great deeds. His wish has been fulfilled, yet perhaps not as he would have desired, although he could not have suspected that back then. Unauwen’s sons were still young at that time, but I already feared that one of them would become a threat to his father and his brother. It feels like yesterday that young Edwinem was here, even though you were not yet born. And now here you are, ready to take his place and complete his mission. Or is that not the case?”

  Then, for the first time, Tiuri spoke about the task with which Sir Edwinem had charged him. He told Menaures how he had met the Knight with the White Shield and had received the letter to take to King Unauwen in the land to the west of the Great Mountains.

  The hermit listened closely and then said, “The tidings you bring are a matter of grave concern. The King of Eviellan and his followers are wicked men! But do not despair; evil will always be defeated in the end. Your task is to deliver the letter. I shall ensure that you cross the mountains quickly and safely.”

  “But… you can no longer show me the way yourself, can you?” said Tiuri.

  “No, I am too old. But I will give you a guide you can trust as you would yourself. His name is Piak. You have already seen him outside.”

  “The shepherd boy?” asked Tiuri.

  “Yes, the very same,” replied the hermit with a smile.

  “How old is he?”

  “Younger than you, I believe. Fourteen years old. But he was born and raised in these mountains, and he comes from a long line of men who have climbing in their blood. He is the best guide you could have. You and Piak must leave tomorrow morning, at sunrise.”

  “Thank you, Menaures,” said Tiuri. “But what about Jaro? He wants to cross the mountains too and I can hardly say I don’t want him to come with me.” He told the hermit how he had met Jaro and about their journey together to the source of the river.

  “Hmm,” said the hermit. “It is indeed possible that he lied and that he does not have a son on the other side of the mountains. He may be a spy. Do you know, I had a feeling that someone would come to see me today? I thought it would be a young man and that proved true. I did not foresee that man’s arrival, however, so I do not believe he needs my help. But I could be wrong. There is a possibility that he is telling the truth. In that case, you cannot prevent him from travelling with you, because he will never get across the mountains on his own.” He looked at Tiuri. “It is up to you,” he said, “to decide what you wish to do.”

  “Then I have no choice but to let him travel with me,” said Tiuri.

  “I agree,” replied the hermit. “And remember that there will be three of you. Keep a close eye on him, take it in turns to keep watch at night with Piak, and make sure Jaro never walks behind you. I do not believe you will have much to fear from him, however.” Then he walked over to Tiuri and said, “Now take off your habit and let me take a look at your wound. Ah, I see you’re wearing chainmail. You’d better leave that here. It is heavy and will be a hindrance as you climb higher into the mountains. Here, I have some clothes for you in this chest.”

  Menaures carried on talking as he undid the bandage around Tiuri’s arm; the wound had opened up again and soaked it with blood. The hermit dabbed the wound with something from a bottle, which smelled of pine trees. It stung a little, but had a soothing effect. Then Menaures put a fresh bandage on the wound. As he did so, he asked Tiuri about his adventures.

  Tiuri told him his tale and passed on greetings from Father Hyronimus and from the lord of Mistrinaut.

  “Sigirdiwarth Rafox,” said Menaures. “Yes, he has not been up here for a long time. But I do know that he governs his lands well.”

  “Have you known him long?” asked Tiuri.

  “He came here twenty years ago, when he owned nothing more than his sword, which he wanted to use only for a righteous cause. I told him then that he should head down the mountain and follow the Blue River to Mistrinaut because there was a battle there that needed to be fought. And that is how he became lord of Mistrinaut.”

  The hermit opened the chest and said, “Choose some clothes and put them on. And here’s the ring that Sir Edwinem gave you. Take it.”

  “Oh, but it doesn’t belong to me,” said Tiuri. “He gave it to me only so that I could show it to you.”

  “Carry it with you then,” said the hermit, “and return it to King Unauwen, who gave it to Edwinem.”

  “I shall do so,” said Tiuri, hanging the ring from the cord around his neck once again. He was pleased that he would be able to keep the ring with him; he had come to see it as a talisman and as a reminder of the promise he had made to Sir Edwinem.

  “And I shall go and talk to Piak,” said the hermit.

  He left and closed the door behind him.

  Tiuri laid his chainmail in the chest and instead put on a faded blue doublet. He kept his habit, though, and pulled it on over the top. Then he went to the door and looked outside. The view was astounding. He could see many miles to the east, over the Kingdom of Dagonaut. He saw the Blue River winding its way across the land and even thought he could make out the towers of Mistrinaut. Closer, he could see hills and farmland, villages, scattered houses and dark forests. The shadow of the mountains moved over t
he landscape.

  Jaro was sitting on a rock beside the spring. His face was buried in his hands, as if he was sad or reflecting deeply about something. Menaures stood nearby, talking quietly to Piak, who smiled when he saw Tiuri on the steps of the cabin. Tiuri went to join them.

  “This is Piak,” said Menaures. “He will take you and Jaro over the mountains.”

  “And you are Martin; I already know that,” said the boy. “I am at your service. We leave tomorrow morning.”

  “Go and make preparations, Piak,” said the hermit. Then he raised his voice and called out, “Jaro!”

  Jaro stood up and slowly came closer.

  “You can travel over the mountains,” the hermit told him. “Piak, my friend and helper, will be your guide.”

  “Ah…” said Jaro. He sounded surprised.

  “Yes, Martin also wants to head to the west. So the three of you will share the journey. Piak knows the paths.”

  “That’s… that’s excellent,” said Jaro. “Thank you.”

  “You should go and eat now,” the hermit continued. “You have to set off early tomorrow, so you should get an early night.”

  As they ate, Jaro was still quiet, but Piak was very talkative. He told them that he came from a nearby village. He was an orphan and Menaures had taken charge of his upbringing. In return, Piak helped the hermit with all kinds of small chores: chopping wood, cooking food and suchlike. Tiuri asked the hermit how he would manage without his helper.

  “I’ll be fine,” the hermit replied. “Piak isn’t here all the time anyway. How do you think he learnt to be such a good climber?”

  Piak had never travelled beyond the mountains and he asked the travellers what it was like out there, where the land was so flat. He said he wouldn’t want to live there himself.

  “But I would like to go down there some day,” he added, “and see the land of King Dagonaut from close up. It looks so beautiful in the distance. And Menaures has told me so much about it.”

  “Well, you could go down and take a look, couldn’t you?” said Tiuri.

  “Yes, maybe. I wasn’t allowed to go last year. I was too young.”

  “How old are you?” asked Jaro. It was the first thing he had said.

  “I was born on midsummer’s day,” replied Piak. “Fifteen…” He paused and glanced at Menaures. “No, fourteen years ago.”

  “I see,” said Jaro. “That’s very young to be our guide, isn’t it?”

  “He is young,” said Menaures, “but he is not too young. If he wished to do so, he would now be allowed to go down and take a closer look at all that he has seen from afar. And then, Piak, you will realize that everything looks very different indeed.”

  “Have you never visited the land of King Unauwen either?” asked Tiuri.

  Piak shook his head. “I’ve never been beyond Filamen,” he said. “That’s a village on the other side of the mountains. Of course I’ve seen the Kingdom of Unauwen before. It looks even more beautiful than Dagonaut’s land. There’s even a city that you can see in the distance…”

  “The City of Unauwen?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “No, the City of Unauwen is more distant,” said the hermit. “What you can see is Dangria, the City of the East.”

  “It has towers,” said Piak. “Lots of them. And walls. When the weather’s fine, you can see it quite clearly. I’d like to go and explore a place like that. And I think I’ve seen the Rainbow River too.”

  “But not the City of Unauwen?” asked Tiuri.

  “You can’t see the city from the mountains,” said Menaures. “It’s in the west of the country, on the White River, near the sea.”

  “Have you ever been to a city?” Piak asked Tiuri.

  “Yes,” he replied, “the City of Dagonaut. That too is far from here, on the Blue River, beside a large forest.”

  Piak asked Tiuri what the city looked like and Tiuri told him about the gates and the city walls, the houses and the narrow alleyways and the large square where the king’s palace stood. On that square, he told Piak, there was often a market and sometimes tournaments were held there too. Piak was most interested to hear about the tournaments. He had always lapped up the stories about knights that Menaures had told him and he asked Tiuri question after question. Had he ever seen a tournament? What did he know about Dagonaut’s knights? What did they look like, what were their names and their coats of arms, and what daring deeds had they performed?

  Tiuri could have told him so many stories, but he did not dare to do so, because he might have revealed his true identity. So he answered Piak as though he’d occasionally seen knights from afar, not as someone who had spent a great deal of time in their company and had almost become a knight himself.

  “Would you stop asking so many questions, Piak?” Menaures finally said with a smile. “You’re not giving our guest a moment to eat.”

  When they had finished eating, Jaro and Tiuri helped Piak to pack for the journey. It would not be a long trip, but still they needed plenty of supplies: rope, blankets and food. The hermit sat quietly in a corner and watched as they packed.

  “Fine. That’s it,” said Piak after a while. “This should be enough. Otherwise it’ll be too much to carry.”

  “There’s already such a lot,” said Jaro. “Do we really need to take those blankets? We have our cloaks and jackets, and it’s summer.”

  “It can get cold up there,” said Piak, “particularly at night. We may have to walk across ice fields. Wait a moment…” He rummaged around in the chest and took out a couple of sheepskins.

  “Here you are,” he said, throwing one each to Tiuri and Jaro. Then he examined his travelling companions. “You need to hitch up that habit or take it off,” he said to Tiuri. “And let me see your shoes. You’d better wear these boots. May we borrow yours too, Menaures?”

  “But you’re barefoot,” said Tiuri.

  “I’m used to it. And I’m carrying some boots for when we get up high. Good. I think we’re ready.”

  “It would seem so,” said Menaures. “Stack it all in the corner and lay some straw and blankets on the floor. Then you can get some sleep.”

  Soon, they were lying next to one another, with Piak between Jaro and Tiuri, and wishing one another goodnight. The hermit went outside and left the door ajar.

  Piak quickly fell asleep and Jaro lay there very still, but Tiuri could not get to sleep. Quietly, he stood up and headed outside.

  The hermit was sitting on the steps, gazing at the landscape to the east. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, but it was still not entirely dark. In the east, a few stars were already shining in the greenish-blue sky. Tiuri sat down beside Menaures and silently contemplated the view. After a while, he turned to look at the hermit.

  “Yes, my son?” the hermit said quietly, without moving.

  There was something that Tiuri wanted to ask, but when he opened his mouth a different question came out. “Menaures, do you know the land of King Unauwen?”

  “Yes,” replied the hermit. “In fact, I know it very well indeed, because I was born there. I know your land too. Before I retreated to this place, many years ago, I travelled far around the world.”

  “Do you know King Unauwen, and his sons?”

  “Yes, I know them.”

  “How far is it to the City of Unauwen, Menaures?”

  “It takes about five days to get over the mountains,” replied the hermit. “After that, you can reach Dangria in a day. From there, a good road leads straight to the City of Unauwen, over the Rainbow River, through the Forest of Ingewel and the Hills of the Moon. You’ll have no trouble getting there from Dangria in about eight or nine days.”

  Then Tiuri asked what it was that he most dearly wanted to know, even though it was a secret.

  “Do you know… do you know what’s in the letter?” he whispered.

  “No,” said the hermit. “I have no more idea than you.”

  “Perhaps it was a
foolish question,” said Tiuri. “But you already knew and suspected so much.”

  “Even though I live so far away,” said Menaures, “I still know the world at the foot of the mountains. I sometimes hear news from visiting pilgrims, and other things come to me during my silent contemplations. But as far as the letter is concerned, there is no need for you to guess at its contents. Your task is only to deliver it.”

  “You’re right,” said Tiuri quietly.

  They sat in silence. The sky slowly grew darker and lights began to shine deep in the valley. Tiuri stayed with Menaures for some time, thinking about many things and listening to the chirping of the crickets in the grass and the gentle murmuring of the spring. Then he stood up and wished the hermit goodnight.

  “Sleep well,” said Menaures.

  Tiuri fell asleep as soon as he lay down, and his sleep was calm and sound.

  3 ANOTHER FAREWELL

  The next morning, the two travellers and their guide were up early and ready to leave. The sun had just risen and the sky above the Kingdom of Dagonaut glowed pink and gold.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Tiuri said to Piak, pointing to the east. “And you get to see that every day.”

  Piak looked a little surprised. “You’re right,” he replied. “But so often I don’t even notice.”

  The hermit shook each of them by the hand and gave them his blessing. “Have a good journey,” he said.

  Then they picked up their bags and set off. Piak was in the lead, with Jaro and Tiuri following behind. They took a steep path that led upwards behind the cabin. To Tiuri’s surprise, Piak walked very slowly, far more slowly than he and Jaro had walked the previous day. After quarter of an hour, they stopped for a moment to look down at the cabin beneath them. The hermit was standing on the hillside, waving at them. They waved back.

  “Why are we going so slowly?” Tiuri asked Piak, once they were on their way again.

  “Slowly?” exclaimed Piak. “This is how you have to walk. Otherwise there’s no way you can go on climbing for hours and hours.”

  Tiuri realized that he was right. They were walking slowly but steadily and so they could keep going for a long time without having to rest. Even so, Tiuri felt himself tiring after a couple of hours and the sweat was streaming down his face. Jaro was puffing and panting too. Piak made it look easy; he climbed on upwards at the same pace, as casually as if he were walking along a level road, sometimes even singing quietly to himself. But eventually he stopped and announced that it was time for a short rest.