The Letter for the King

  “How do you know that?” asked Tiuri, yawning.

  “Nobody else knows about it. I don’t think even my father ever discovered it. Menaures showed it to me and he only happened upon it by chance. Actually, someone else found it, someone who came from the other side of the mountains to visit the hermit.”

  “Oh yes?” said Tiuri sleepily. “So how did he find it?”

  “It was a very long time ago, before I was born. A young knight of King Unauwen was travelling over the mountains; he got lost and found himself in a snowstorm. So he blew on his horn and Menaures heard it and went to look for him. And he found him on that path, which he’d never seen before. The knight had already crossed the pass and wasn’t that far from his destination. Menaures said it had to be a miracle, because the knight didn’t know his way through the mountains at all. He was a fine fellow and he later became a famous knight. His name was Sir Edwinem.”

  Tiuri was immediately wide awake. “Edwinem?” he repeated.

  “Have you heard of him?”

  “Yes,” said Tiuri.

  “Do you know him?” asked Piak.

  Tiuri did not answer immediately. “Yes,” he said after a while. “I once met him.”

  “Really? Did you speak to him?”

  “Hm… yes,” said Tiuri.

  He heard Piak sit up. “Hey,” he whispered, “your name’s Tiuri, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” replied Tiuri, a little surprised at the question.

  “I know a song about the knights of King Dagonaut. About the great battle in the east. Listen.” And Piak quietly sang:

  Oh, come and listen to my song,

  and I shall sing to you

  of deeds so brave and men so fine

  and knights so brave and true.

  And how our great king Dagonaut

  roamed so far and wide

  and fought against our enemies,

  with his paladins at his side.

  The king clad in his purple cloak

  rode on his fiery steed

  and battled for his people

  in our hour of need.

  And who rode upon his right

  with shield azure and gold?

  Sir Tiuri was his name,

  a knight so brave and bold.

  “You see, Sir Tiuri,” said Piak, breaking off his song. “Tiuri the Valiant. Is he your father?”

  “Why would you think…” Tiuri began, but then he changed his mind. “Yes, he’s my father.”

  “So you are a knight, after all!” Piak whispered excitedly.

  “No, I’m not,” said Tiuri. “I’m… I was… just a squire.”

  “Oh, but you’ll become a knight later, won’t you? First a page, and then a squire. That’s how it works, isn’t it? Tell me all about it!”

  “I was my mother’s page and my father’s squire,” said Tiuri. He smiled in the darkness at the memory of those happy years at Castle Tehuri. For the first time in days, he wondered again how his parents were faring. Were they waiting for him in the City of Dagonaut, or had they returned to their castle?

  “And when I was thirteen, I became Sir Fantumar’s squire,” he continued.

  “Sir Fantumar,” repeated Piak, his voice full of awe. “The song mentions him, too.”

  And who rode upon his left

  with shield of red and white?

  Sir Fantumar was his name,

  that fine and worthy knight.

  “And then I went into King Dagonaut’s service,” Tiuri told him. “As every prospective knight must do.”

  “And when will you be knighted?”

  “I should already be a knight,” replied Tiuri. “But now I don’t know if I ever will be. I’ve broken the rules and the king is a strict man.” He told Piak about the vigil in the chapel, and about the voice asking him to open the door and the stranger who gave him the letter for the Black Knight with the White Shield. He told him how he had found the knight dying and then taken on his task: to deliver the letter to King Unauwen.

  “Ah,” sighed Piak. “Then I would say that you’re a knight on a quest. You did what had to be done, didn’t you? You couldn’t have reacted any differently, could you?”

  “No,” said Tiuri, “I couldn’t.”

  “And what about the Black Knight with the White Shield. Who was he?”

  “Sir Edwinem, lord of Forèstèrra. But I only found that out later.”

  “I’m glad you’ve told me,” said Piak. “Maybe you’ll tell me more stories about all the things you’ve done… You know, I’d really like to be your squire.”

  “But I’m not a knight,” said Tiuri.

  “Yes, you are!”

  “I’d rather you were my companion and my friend.”

  “Would you? Then yes, let’s be friends. I really want to hear more about your adventures, but I’m so tired now. So I’m just going to dream about what you’ve told me instead. Goodnight, Tiuri.”

  “Goodnight, Piak.”

  And then all was silent in the cabin.

  5 MIST AND SNOW

  The next morning, they both woke at the same time. Piak got up first, walked over to the door and looked outside. “Oh no! Mist!” he said. “I thought as much.”

  Tiuri went to look. The world outside had disappeared, and everything was enveloped in a thick grey cloud.

  “I smelled it as soon as I woke up,” said Piak.

  “What do we do now?” said Tiuri, shivering with the cold.

  “It might lift later,” said Piak. “It’s early and the sun’s still low in the sky. We can get as far as the Green Shelf in any case. I know the way with my eyes closed.”

  Tiuri didn’t reply. He wondered how anyone could ever find their way through such thick mist.

  “Let’s take our time over breakfast,” said Piak. “At least we can make a fire now. No one’s going to see it.”

  Tiuri thought that sounded like a fine idea. Before long, they were eating a hearty breakfast beside a fire that was merrily crackling away. When they’d finished, they looked outside again. It was a little lighter, but the mist was still just as thick.

  “What do you think?” asked Tiuri. “Shall we wait a little longer or just set off?”

  “What do you want to do?” asked Piak.

  “I don’t know. There’s no way I could find my way through, but you’re at home in the mountains. You’re a better judge of the situation.”

  “If we wait, we could be here all morning,” said Piak. “Let’s get going. We’ll just head for the Green Shelf for now. And then we’ll see.”

  They put out the fire, picked up their bags and set off, with Piak leading and Tiuri following close behind. Piak had put on his boots and was carrying a walking stick that he’d cut from a tree.

  As they slowly climbed on upwards, Tiuri realized that his life was entirely in Piak’s hands. He could see no more than a few steps ahead and could only blindly follow his new friend. They did not speak much and whatever they said sounded strangely muffled. The mist seemed to deaden every sound, including their footsteps and the rushing water that they heard now and then. Sometimes Piak warned Tiuri about a steep incline or a sudden descent, or a fissure or a stream that they had to step over. Tiuri lost all sense of direction. He had no idea how long they’d been walking for or how far they’d come. Then Piak stopped and said, “Wait here. I’m going ahead to take a look. Don’t move from this spot.” Before Tiuri could respond, he was gone.

  Tiuri sat down on a rock and tried again to peer through the mist. He felt so completely alone. It seemed like a really long wait and he started to wonder where Piak had got to. Perhaps he was lost; how would he ever find him again? But then he heard a reassuring cry, “Ho, there!” And his young guide emerged from the mist.

  “Come on,” Piak said cheerfully. “Let’s get going. I think the weather’s improving.”

  Tiuri couldn’t see any signs that it was getting better. “Where were you?” he asked.

  “I just wanted to chec
k exactly where we are,” replied Piak. “I recognized a big rock some way along the path. We’re not far from the Green Shelf.”

  “Did you get lost?” asked Tiuri.

  “No,” said Piak, “I just wasn’t sure how far we’d come, and I didn’t want us to walk past the Green Shelf without noticing. It’s hard to tell in this mist how far you’ve come,” he added apologetically.

  “I can see that,” said Tiuri. “Wouldn’t we have been better off waiting in the cabin?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Piak. “You want to get over the mountains as quickly as possible, don’t you? And we can at least get as far as the Green Shelf. After that, we’ll need to be able to see more clearly, but I think the mist should lift soon.”

  “How can you tell?” said Tiuri.

  “Can’t you feel the wind getting up? And look, it’s lighter in the east now.”

  They walked onwards, still one small step at a time. When they came to a large rock, Piak stopped. “This is where Menaures was sitting when he heard Sir Edwinem’s horn,” he said.

  “Did Menaures often used to go up into the mountains?” asked Tiuri.

  “Yes, in the old days. My father went on a lot of journeys with him. But Menaures would travel alone, as well. He’d sit thinking for hours and hours on a mountainside or a peak. Hey, look over there!”

  Tiuri looked where Piak was pointing. The veil of mist parted to reveal the top of a mountain. It vanished again in an instant, but Piak smiled and said, “Perhaps we’ll be walking in the sunshine before too long.”

  They decided to wait by the rock until the mist cleared a little. Piak said they could shelter there, as the Green Shelf was more exposed to wind and weather. The two boys sat for a while and ate some bread. The mist started to swirl, revealing sketchy fragments of the scenery around them. It was a wondrous, shifting spectacle. Piak was right about the mist lifting; about half an hour later, the sun appeared, small and pale. They decided to continue.

  Tiuri and Piak soon reached the Green Shelf. Tiuri could make out two different paths leading onwards, but Piak said they were not taking either of them.

  “One’s a dead end,” he told Tiuri. “The other goes in the right direction, but the route we’re taking is one that no one else will follow.”

  He walked to the edge and looked down.

  Tiuri did the same and found himself looking down into a ravine. He couldn’t tell how deep it was, because it was still full of mist.

  “Really? We need to go down there?” he asked incredulously.

  “Yes, it’s easier than it looks.”

  “I hope so,” said Tiuri, taking a step back and looking around. He realized they were even higher up in the mountains; there were no trees, and the landscape was bare and desolate. To the west, he spotted a beautiful, conical mountain peak, and beside it a field of ice or snow, with claw-like fingers reaching out to the valley below.

  “That’s where the pass is,” said Piak, pointing. “We’re going over that glacier and on the other side of the ridge you’ll be able to see the Kingdom of Unauwen.”

  “It doesn’t even look all that far now,” Tiuri remarked.

  “We can reach the pass tomorrow morning,” said Piak, as he roped the two of them together. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.” But before they set off, he bent down and picked up something from the ground.

  “For you,” he said, holding out two flowers to Tiuri; one was white and greyish-green and looked like a star, and the other was like a small, blue bell.

  “What? There are flowers growing up here?” Tiuri exclaimed.

  “Yes, tuck them into your belt if you like. You’ll need to keep your hands free.”

  Slowly and carefully, they began the descent. It was indeed easier than it looked, although they had to be careful because the surface was wet and slippery and strewn with loose stones. This time it was Tiuri who led the way, but Piak kept calling out to him to tell him the best places to put his feet. After a while, Tiuri became used to going downhill and he walked faster and more confidently.

  But before long he slipped on a stone and went sliding down the slope. A tug on the rope brought him to a stop.

  “Are you all right?” called Piak. “You haven’t hurt yourself, have you?”

  “N-no,” said Tiuri. “I d-don’t think so.”

  Piak was beside him in a second, helping him to his feet.

  “It’s all right,” said Tiuri, “I’m fine.”

  “If you slip again, drop down,” Piak advised him. “And try to keep as close to the ground as you can. Falling itself isn’t so bad as long as you don’t end up sliding.”

  “I see,” said Tiuri, rather sheepishly. Only now did he truly understand that Piak, who was younger than him and who looked up to Tiuri as a brave knight, had so much to teach him about the mountains, and that he was a guide he could trust. “Don’t you want to lead?” he asked.

  “No, that’s not how it’s done,” said Piak. “A guide has to lead while climbing, but follow during the descent.”

  It took a moment for Tiuri to realize why. As his guide, Piak was responsible for the lives of both of them; if Tiuri were to slip, Piak had to brace himself and stop him falling.

  Tiuri heard rushing water, and soon they reached the bottom of the ravine. They waded through a stream, walked along the opposite bank for some way and then climbed back up again. By then, the sun was shining more brightly and there was a strong breeze.

  “The weather really is nice now,” said Tiuri when they stopped to rest for the second time.

  Piak frowned and stared at the sky for a while. “What time do you think it is?” he asked. “Three o’clock, maybe half past? It’s about an hour from here to the glacier, and then it takes another hour to cross it. We need to be past the Seven Crags before dark. Then we can reach the pass tomorrow morning and be within sight of the Kingdom of Unauwen by midday. We should get going.”

  Tiuri stood up and followed him. He would have preferred to rest for a little longer, but he knew that Piak must have good reasons for wanting to press on. They climbed a long way uphill on the other side of the ravine and after that they went up and down – more up than down – over increasingly difficult terrain. There was no sign of a path, but Piak headed onwards without hesitation and, whenever it was possible, he moved far more quickly than they had at the start of their trek. The higher they climbed, the more strongly the wind blew. It became colder and the sun disappeared into the clouds. After about an hour, they reached the glacier, a vast field of ice, furrowed with narrow, fast-flowing streams and treacherous crevasses.

  “Just as well it hasn’t been snowing,” said Piak, as they stepped out onto the glacier. “But something’s changed since I was last here. It looks like there are more cracks in the surface.” He untied the rope between them, carefully coiled it back up, and then led the way over the ice. He didn’t walk in a straight line, but seemed to be following a path, even though Tiuri could not see one.

  The wind blasted across the landscape and it was icy cold.

  “You’re unlucky, Tiuri,” said Piak. “When the sun’s shining, you can sometimes walk around half-naked up here.”

  The walk across the glacier was an extraordinary experience for Tiuri. He had never seen anything quite like that ice field in the cold, grey light. They passed a strange and wonderful sight: some large boulders balancing on low, thin columns of ice. They looked like giant toadstools.

  “They’re glacier tables,” said Piak. “That’s where the mountain spirits sit when they come down from their peaks. Sometimes they pick up the boulders and start hurling them at each other. It sounds like rumbling thunder. You can hear it for miles around.”

  “Is that true?” asked Tiuri, looking around as though he expected a giant mountain spirit to appear and fling a rock at him.

  “I’ve never seen them myself,” said Piak. “But I’ve heard them in the distance.”

  They jumped over a few crevasses and stream
s, but when they were about halfway across the glacier they came to a stream that was too wide for them to leap across. It had carved out a deep bed in the ice and its sides were as smooth as glass. All they could do was follow the course of the stream in the hope of finding a spot where they could cross.

  “More bad luck,” muttered Piak.

  They walked quite some way before they dared to make the leap. And then they had to head back along the bank to a point where the path across the glacier was safer. As they walked, the wind grew colder and the sky became greyer.

  Tiuri and Piak were chilled through by the time they reached the far side of the glacier. It had taken them much longer than an hour to cross. Piak looked up at the sky again. “Call me a goat if it’s not about to snow,” he said. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

  “How far do you want to get today?” asked Tiuri, when they stopped after a while to rope themselves together again.

  “I want to get past the Seven Crags,” replied Piak. “That’s the most difficult part of the route. I just hope it doesn’t get dark too soon.”

  But, once again, luck was not with them. The darkness rolled in at a frightening pace and the first snow soon began to fall. The wind picked up and their only good fortune was that it was at their back. The blizzard made it hard to see anything and the ground underfoot was even trickier than it had been before, because it was so slippery.

  “First mist, then snow,” grumbled Piak. “You know, the mountains could have given you a warmer welcome.”

  At that point, they were standing on a narrow ridge, with high rocks and cliffs to the right, and a ravine to the left.

  “Where are the Seven Crags?” asked Tiuri.

  “We’re beneath the fourth crag now,” Piak replied. “Let’s keep going.”

  They scrambled onwards in the dwindling light. Tiuri’s teeth were chattering and he had no sensation in his hands or feet. Worst of all, his arm was hurting again; it had become painful on the glacier and grew worse with every step he took. But he didn’t mention it and ploughed on in silence.