The Letter for the King

  The first guard shook his head. “Please come with me,” he said to Tiuri. “There’s no talking to that one. The only thing he’s good for is chess.”

  He led Tiuri into the courtyard, where there was another gate in an inner wall. The two of them dashed across the courtyard, as the rain was still coming down. The guard unlocked the door with a large key. “If you carry on through there,” he said, “you’ll find someone who’ll direct you to the great hall and a place to sleep for the night.”

  Tiuri thanked him and did as he was told. He came to another courtyard, bigger and more beautiful than the first, but it was gloomy and deserted in the rain. On the other side of the courtyard was a covered gallery with people hurrying to and fro. As Tiuri headed across to join them, a man in blue came to meet him.

  “Blessed be your evening,” said Tiuri with a bow. “I am a pilgrim and I ask you kindly to grant me shelter.”

  “Be welcome, pilgrim,” said the man. “Just go through that door and you will come to the great hall. There’s a fire in there, so you can dry your wet clothes while you wait for dinner.”

  “Thank you,” said Tiuri.

  The great hall looked a little like the hall at Castle Tehuri, his home, but it was older and much darker. The beams were blackened with smoke, and the walls were grey and worn. Long benches and trestle tables filled the room. At one end of the hall was a platform with a table on it, which was covered with a white cloth. That was of course where the lord of the castle sat, along with his family. It was also the place where the minstrels and the musicians would perform on festive occasions. A servant in blue stood beside the large open fireplace, turning a large piece of meat on a spit. It smelled delicious. Tiuri walked over to the fire to dry himself off a little.

  The servant smiled. “Good evening, brother,” he said. “You are early. Are you very hungry? You’re not fasting, are you?”

  “Not today,” Tiuri said, smiling back at him.

  Other servants came in, carrying pitchers and bowls of bread, which they put down on the tables. One of the servants lit the torches that hung in metal rings around the walls. The light completely changed the dark hall, bathing everything in a warm, reddish glow.

  Tiuri’s gaze rested on a tapestry on the wall above the high table. The image on the cloth almost seemed to come to life. The tapestry had the strangest figures on it: soldiers with winged helmets were fighting a monster that looked like a dragon, but had many vicious-looking heads and sinuous necks. In the shifting light of the torches, the scene looked beautiful and mysterious, but also a little eerie.

  Then one of the servants banged a gong. More people came into the hall, castle residents and guests, and sat down at the long tables. Tiuri found a seat too, in a dark corner. The people who joined him at the table said good evening, but then mostly ignored him. They were more interested in another guest, a pedlar who was showing his wares and chattering away about what he had to sell.

  Last of all, the lord of the castle entered. He was a tall and strong-looking man with a pale, stern face and red hair and beard. He was accompanied by two ladies and a priest. When they were seated and the priest had said a prayer, everyone started to eat.

  Tiuri tucked in. There was plenty of white and brown bread, roast meat, fruit and ale. He sat quietly in his dark corner, eating, watching and listening. His thoughts turned to Castle Fantumar, where he had lived as a squire, and to Castle Tehuri, his home, where he had spent his carefree childhood years. Not that long ago, he thought, I was sitting at the high table in a castle too, as part of the lord’s family. There were always lots of guests at Tehuri as well, passing travellers who were given shelter. He thought about his parents, who were probably wondering where he was and worrying about him.

  After dinner, a servant showed the guests to their sleeping places. He led them along lots of corridors and up and down flights of stairs. Tiuri realized that the castle was very large and had a complex layout. He was sharing a room with the pedlar and a farmer who said very little. The room was small and basic, but clean, and had three beds. Tiuri and the farmer both wanted to go straight to bed, but the pedlar said he was going back to the great hall, because he might be able to do some business there.

  “Perhaps the lord would like to buy something,” he said. “I have some lovely jewellery for his wife and daughter: necklaces and hairbands and clasps for their cloaks.”

  “What’s the lord of Mistrinaut actually called?” asked Tiuri.

  “Now you’re asking!” said the pedlar. “I did know, but I’ve forgotten. It’s one of those impossibly long foreign names, a real tongue-twister. So most people just call him the lord of Mistrinaut. Well, that’s what he is, after all. You know he’s not from these parts, don’t you?”

  “Where does he come from?” asked Tiuri.

  “He’s from the north. They say all the people up there have red hair like him. But he’s been living here for a long time now. He’s a powerful lord, and a good man too.” The pedlar gathered up his goods, wished them goodnight and left.

  Tiuri was soon in bed, and he lay there listening to the rain. The farmer soon fell asleep, as Tiuri could hear from his steady breathing. But Tiuri was wide awake. That surprised him; he had every reason to be sleepy and he was in a comfortable bed, instead of on the hard ground somewhere outside. He had no idea how long he lay awake, but he heard people talking outside and then the castle growing quieter and later he heard the pedlar return and climb into bed… and in all that time he had not slept a wink. Finally, the castle was silent and he realized that everyone must have gone to bed. Even the sound of the rain had stopped.

  Why can’t you get to sleep? Tiuri thought to himself. You don’t deserve a nice, dry bed! Come on, go to sleep!

  But beneath those thoughts another feeling was lurking, a feeling he didn’t want to give in to. It was… a sense of foreboding. Quietly, Tiuri got up and opened the door, which led onto a small courtyard. It was dry now, but still cloudy; he couldn’t see a single star in the sky. A cold wind was blowing and he shivered as he returned to bed.

  Finally, Tiuri managed to fall asleep, but soon he was awakened by the sound of many hoofs clattering over the drawbridge. Who could that be, so late at night? he wondered, but he was too sleepy to think about it for long. He went back to sleep and did not wake again until the next morning.

  The farmer and the pedlar were still asleep. Tiuri reached for the letter, which was the first thing he did every morning. Then he got up and went outside. It was still dry, but the sky was grey. He could tell that more rain would fall before long. Tiuri washed at the pump in the courtyard and headed to the great hall. The servants were already up and busy at work in the large courtyard. One of the men was chasing a white chicken, which flew into the great hall with a loud cackling, just as Tiuri arrived. He bent down and scooped up the agitated bird in his arms.

  “Thank you, brother,” said the man, taking the chicken from him. “She’s such a pampered little beast. She thinks she can do whatever she likes. You’re up at an early hour, aren’t you?”

  “Well, I want to make an early start today,” said Tiuri. “Might I be able to get something to eat yet?”

  “Oh yes, of course,” came the answer. “Everything’s ready for breakfast. Many of us have already eaten, including our master. But I’m afraid you won’t be able to leave right away; the drawbridge is up.”

  “Oh, is it?” said Tiuri. “When will they lower it?”

  “Well, it’s usually down by now. By six at the latest, in the summer. Generally they don’t even bother to raise it at all. But the boss’s orders are that the drawbridge can’t go down until he says so. I’m sure it won’t be long, though. There are other guests who want to leave and some of us have work to do outside the castle.”

  “Then I shall wait,” said Tiuri. “Do you know why the drawbridge is up this morning?”

  “No idea,” said the man. “They say some unexpected guests arrived in the middle of the night a
nd the drawbridge went up soon after that. But go and eat. I’m sure you’ll be able to leave after breakfast.”

  Tiuri had a strange feeling in his stomach as he started his breakfast. He didn’t like the drawbridge being up. But he thought to himself, Don’t go jumping at shadows, Tiuri! You mustn’t fear danger wherever you go. And the monk’s habit is a good disguise. Just make sure you don’t show how keen you are to get away…

  After breakfast, he walked out into the courtyard, where he caught snatches of conversations: “Strange knights…” “In the middle of the night… The lord’s friends…”

  Tiuri was becoming more and more worried, so he made his way to the gate. One of the guards was sitting on a bench in the passageway, stringing his bow.

  “Good morning,” said Tiuri.

  “Morning,” replied the guard.

  The other guard called through the doorway. “Your move! Your king’s in check!”

  “Blast it!” said the first guard. “Just leave me in peace for once!” He lowered the bow and said to Tiuri, “So, Brother Tarmin, you’re leaving us, are you? You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid. The drawbridge isn’t down yet.”

  “When will I be able to go?” asked Tiuri.

  “Oh, I don’t really know. The bridge is usually down by now,” replied the guard and he began to tinker with his bow again.

  Tiuri gave an impatient sigh.

  “Eager to leave, reverend brother?” came a voice from behind him.

  Startled, Tiuri turned around to see the lord of the castle. He must have walked up behind him very quietly. The guard was about to stand up, but the lord raised his hand and said, “Please do not get up. Carry on with your work.” Then he turned to Tiuri and said, “My other guests are still at breakfast. I shall soon give the order to open the gate and let down the drawbridge.”

  Tiuri noticed that he spoke with an accent.

  “Where have you come from, brother?” asked the lord of Mistrinaut. “And where are you going?”

  Tiuri answered only his first question. “I have come from the Brown Monastery,” he said. “And now that you are here, my lord, I should like to thank you for your kind and gracious hospitality.”

  “You are most welcome,” the lord replied.

  Tiuri thought the man was eyeing him suspiciously, but he could not tell for certain, as it was dark in the passageway and the lord of Mistrinaut was standing with his back to the light. But he was glad that he had pulled up his hood.

  The lord turned and started walking towards the courtyard. “So, brother,” he called back over his shoulder. “You have come from the Brown Monastery. But there is another question I would like to ask you.”

  Tiuri followed him. They stopped just outside the passageway. The lord looked up at the grey sky and said, “There is another storm on the way.” Then he turned to Tiuri, who could finally take a good look at him. Tiuri saw that his skin was not so much pale as very fair, and that his eyes were light green and penetrating, beneath bushy eyebrows.

  “Did you by any chance encounter a young man on your travels, brother?” he asked. “A young man of about sixteen, with dark hair and blue-grey eyes?”

  It felt as though an ice-cold hand was closing around Tiuri’s heart.

  “A young man…” he repeated. “I can’t remember seeing anyone who looked like that. But I wasn’t paying too much attention to my fellow travellers.” He wondered if his words sounded convincing or if the man had noticed how anxious he was. The gaze of those pale eyes was so intense! “One sees so many people on the road,” he added.

  “But you would have noticed this young man,” said the lord. “He is wearing torn and ragged clothing, most probably a robe that was once white, but on his finger he has a valuable ring with a sparkling, white stone.”

  Tiuri shook his head. “No, my lord,” he said slowly. “I didn’t see that young man. I am certain of it.”

  “Well, there was a chance you might have done, was there not?” said the lord. “After all, you are travelling from the same direction. But he has had a longer journey, from the east.”

  “I am sorry I cannot help you,” said Tiuri, as calmly as he could. “Who is this young man?” he added after a moment’s thought. “A friend of yours?”

  “No, I have never met him,” replied the lord and then he fell silent.

  Tiuri waited in silence too, not knowing what else to say. He looked out at the quiet courtyard and wondered if the lord was still studying him. Then he heard the second guard’s voice again, “Come and see! Your king’s in check, I tell you!”

  “What is your name, brother?” asked the lord.

  “Tarmin,” replied Tiuri.

  “You have a young voice, Brother Tarmin. How old are you, in fact? Sixteen, seventeen? Have you already taken orders?” He leant over to Tiuri. “I should like to see your face more clearly,” he said. “Would you lower your hood?” And before Tiuri could react, the lord had reached out and done it himself.

  “Aha!” He frowned. “Dark hair, blue-grey eyes! I believe you are also the right age.”

  Tiuri took a step backwards and said, with as much surprise as he could muster, “You surely don’t think I’m the young man you’re looking for, do you?”

  “I know there are many people who match the description,” replied the lord, “but you are the only one among my guests. So I would like you to accompany me for a moment.”

  “But why?” said Tiuri, still acting astounded. “I don’t know what you want from me! I am Brother Tarmin from the Brown Monastery and I…”

  “You have nothing to fear. At least if you are who you say you are. I only want you to come and meet a few friends of mine, who arrived here last night. If you are not the one they are seeking, there will be no consequences.”

  “But no one is looking for me!” shouted Tiuri. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  “I do not want anything from you,” said the lord abruptly. He put his hand on Tiuri’s shoulder and ordered him to go with him.

  Tiuri obeyed. If he kept resisting, he would only make the lord even more suspicious, and escape was not an option, not with the closed gate and the raised drawbridge. His heart was pounding. He was afraid that he knew who the lord’s friends were. But he planned to maintain his new identity for as long as he could. They walked across the courtyard and through the second gate. The lord did not remove his hand from Tiuri’s shoulder. He seemed concerned that Tiuri might run away. As they passed through the second courtyard, Tiuri saw something that almost stopped him in his tracks.

  Two grooms were rubbing down a black horse, which was reluctantly submitting to the treatment. Other servants were standing around and making comments like, “Full of fire, that one!” and “What a beautiful creature!”

  Tiuri recognized the horse immediately. It was his trusted ally, the ebony steed of the Knight with the White Shield. And now he knew the horse’s real name: Ardanwen, or Night Wind. There was no need to wonder how the animal had come to be there.

  When the horse saw him, it raised its head and whinnied.

  “That horse would appear to be greeting you,” said the lord. “Do you know the creature?”

  “No,” said Tiuri. He was sorry that he had to deny knowing his good companion, but he knew he had no choice.

  The lord glanced sideways at him, but said nothing. They walked on, through the covered gallery and the great hall, and then through a door and up a flight of stairs to another door, which the lord opened. He released his hold on Tiuri and stopped in the doorway, blocking Tiuri’s view of the room.

  “I have only one guest who matches the description,” said the lord. “Do you wish to speak to him?”

  A voice called out, “Wait a moment…” And then, “Send him in.”

  The lord turned to Tiuri. “Go on,” he ordered.

  Tiuri did as he was told. He heard the door close and found himself in a low-ceilinged room with a large table that was covered with the remains of a me
al. Around that table, standing and seated, were the men he had expected to see. The four Grey Knights and their squires. They were all wearing their helmets, with their visors down.

  “He calls himself Brother Tarmin,” came the lord’s voice, “but he answers to the description you gave.”

  Tiuri glanced over his shoulder. His host was leaning with his back against the door and looking at the Grey Knights with a frown on his face. The men had all stood up by then and Tiuri could see that their eyes, gleaming through the slits in their helmets, were focused on him.

  “Is he the one you are looking for?” asked the lord.

  “I don’t know,” answered one of the knights. “Does he have the ring?”

  Don’t let them see you’re scared, thought Tiuri. He feigned astonishment as he addressed the knights, “What do you want from me? Who are you? I don’t know you!”

  “Do you have the ring?” said another of the knights, in a gruff voice.

  “Ring? What ring? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Tiuri exclaimed.

  The Grey Knights and their squires said nothing. They stood motionlessly, staring at Tiuri.

  “So he is not the one you are seeking?” asked the lord.

  “We do not know,” said the knight who had spoken first. Tiuri recognized him by his voice. It was the knight with the silver horn.

  “But we intend to find out,” added the second.

  “Indeed we do,” replied the first. He turned to Tiuri and said, “Have you fled here from the east, from the Royal Forest?”

  “I have come from the Brown Monastery,” replied Tiuri.

  “Do you have the ring?” asked the second.

  “I don’t know anything about any ring,” said Tiuri.

  “We will know if you are telling the truth,” said the first Grey Knight. “You may well have concealed it beneath your habit.”

  “I do not understand why you are treating me this way,” said Tiuri, feigning anger. “You really should raise your visors and say who you are!”

  “This is not the attitude of a meek and obedient lay brother!” said a third knight.