The Secrets of the Wild Wood

  “I don’t know anything,” whispered the Fool. “That’s what they always tell me: ‘You are a Fool and you know nothing, and you talk nonsense!’”

  “Where did you see him when he was carving letters in a tree?”

  The Fool thought for a moment and pointed to the north. “Far from here, in the wood,” he replied. “I truly don’t know where, sir knight. I have travelled for so long. But it was close to the dark river.”

  “The Black River?”

  The Fool nodded vigorously. “Yes, the Black River,” he said.

  “And when was this?”

  The Fool thought again. “The leaves were brown,” he replied, “and some of the trees were almost bare. But it was not yet snowing.”

  So it must have been last autumn, thought Tiuri and he asked, “Were no others with him? Knights? Horsemen?”

  “Sssh!” said the Fool. “No, he was alone. All alone. But he was not alone in the wood.” He shivered and added anxiously, “They haven’t killed him, have they?”

  “Oh no, no,” said Tiuri. “But I am glad you have told me this, Marius. You do not need to be afraid. I shall help you. I only want to know if there are dangers in this wood.”

  “What dangers do you mean? The animals? I am not afraid of the animals,” said the Fool. “But I am afraid of others, even with you, knight and friend. Even with you and your black horse.”

  “We need to know the dangers we face, Marius,” said Tiuri. “The better we know them, the less we have to fear them.”

  “Yes, but I do not know them myself, knight who keeps asking question after question!” the Fool argued. “They told me nothing. They just shouted or laughed at me.”

  “The Men in Green?” guessed Tiuri.

  “Shh!” whispered the Fool. “The Men in Green are always on the lookout and they hear so much. But they never speak.” Then he took Tiuri’s hand and he pleaded with him, “I don’t want to talk about this wood! I just want to go back to my cabin. You said you were going to help me, didn’t you? What do I have to do?”

  “Come with me,” said Tiuri. He realized he was going to have to leave the Fool in peace for a while. He really did seem very upset. Suddenly Tiuri felt himself becoming angry at the mysterious creatures that were to blame. Poor Marius, who would not hurt a fly!

  They slowly walked to the edge of the wood. The Fool stopped for a moment and pointed towards the hunting lodge.

  “They were there, in that house, last night,” he said. “Were they looking for me? What do you think, Friend?”

  “The old lodge is never used these days,” said Tiuri, half speaking to himself.

  “I saw light inside,” whispered the Fool.

  “Did you?” Tiuri whispered back. “So who was there?”

  “They came from every direction,” said the Fool. “But I couldn’t see them very well in the dark. I saw their shadows. I heard their voices. Were they looking for me?”

  “I don’t think so, Marius,” said Tiuri, “but I can’t know for sure. Let’s go over there and take a look.”

  “No!” said the Fool, and he seemed so horrified that Tiuri didn’t dare to insist.

  He looked at the path. He could tell that horsemen had ridden along there, but it could have been the tracks that he and his companions had left on yesterday’s ride. How much longer ago it seemed!

  At the edge of the forest they stopped in the meadow with the yellow flowers.

  “Marius,” said Tiuri, “were you here yesterday, watching us?”

  “Yes,” replied the Fool. “You were sitting there, with the lady.”

  “The lady. Do you know her, Marius?”

  The Fool shook his head. “No,” he said. “She is beautiful. I would be too scared to speak to her!”

  “Have you ever seen her before?”

  “No,” replied the Fool. He picked a flower and wove it into Ardanwen’s bridle. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he said, looking at Tiuri with a devoted smile. “Who is the lady? Has she enchanted you, knight and traveller?”

  Enchanted! Yes, Tiuri realized, you could call it that. Isadoro had enchanted him. But right now it felt as if the enchantment had lost much of its power – even though he still found it difficult to fathom his feelings for her. Was she just a fickle young woman who wanted to make a fool of him? Was she the lady Evan believed her to be, more like a woodland fairy, barely an ordinary mortal at all? Or was she something entirely different? Whatever she was, she had lied about the flowers.

  “Why do you say nothing, Friend?” asked the Fool.

  Tiuri returned to reality. Here was someone who had more need of his attention. “You are coming with me, Marius,” he said. “Come on, climb up onto the horse. Ardanwen is strong enough to carry us both.”

  “Is that his name? Ar-dan-wen, your black horse?” said the Fool. “I know your name, too – Tiuri. But I call you Friend.”

  “Come on,” said Tiuri. He suddenly remembered that he should have been attending Sir Fitil’s festivities. How long was it since he had left Islan? The sun was already in the south, and it was still quite some way to the castle. He was sure to be late, a most impolite way for a guest to behave. Yet he could not regret his decision, not now that he had met the Fool.

  “Where are you going?” the Fool asked. “I don’t want to go that way. No!”

  “Don’t be like that, Marius,” said Tiuri, a little impatiently. “We are going together. There’s a castle that way, where there are friends of mine.”

  “You have many friends,” said the Fool. He climbed onto Ardanwen’s back, clumsily, but he managed. Tiuri climbed up in front of Marius, who wrapped his arms around his waist. And off they rode to Islan.

  “You have many friends,” repeated the Fool. “I do not. I have only you, rider, knight.”

  “My friends will be your friends, too,” said Tiuri. “I know my squire, Piak, is going to like you.”

  Piak! he thought. He’ll be furious with me – and rightly so! He sighed. Soon he would be at Islan, and the thought of facing Isadoro again was a worrying one.

  2 A CELEBRATION DISRUPTED

  Islan’s drawbridge was down, the gate was open, and flags flew on poles all around the castle.

  As Ardanwen arrived with his double load, a large number of horsemen went riding into the main courtyard. Tiuri recognized Evan as one of them, but he did not see Piak.

  “Who lives here?” asked the Fool.

  “Sir Fitil,” replied Tiuri, “with his daughter, Lady Isadoro.”

  “And all those men, too?” said the Fool. “Then I do not want to go there.” He let go of Tiuri and jumped down from the horse. “What are you doing?” cried Tiuri.

  “I shall wait for you outside,” said the Fool. “I don’t want to go inside, not with all those knights and horsemen. I shall wait outside for you, or by the wood. No one can see me there.”

  Just then, two people came out of the castle and walked towards them. “There he is!” one of them cried. It was Bendu and Piak.

  The Fool was about to run away, but Tiuri jumped down and held onto him. Soon, Piak and Bendu had joined them.

  “Well, a fine knight you are!” Bendu said gruffly. “Is this a habit of yours, not showing up when everyone’s expecting you?” Then he turned to look at the Fool. “And who’s this?” he asked.

  The Fool tried to hide behind Tiuri.

  “Don’t be scared, Marius,” he said. “This is an old friend of mine,” he added to Bendu. “I met him in the wood.”

  “Whatever made you decide to ride all the way to the wood?” said Bendu. “The festivities are almost over. Well, you’re here now and you’ll just have to make your apologies.”

  “I shall explain everything later,” Tiuri began, but then he fell silent. How much could he say?

  “Don’t tell him anything!” the Fool whispered. “Say nothing, Friend.”

  “Who is this wild man of the woods?” asked Bendu.

  “They call me the Fool,” Marius said, ha
lf timid, half defiant. “I am the Fool. Everyone says so. But my mother calls me Marius and so does he.”

  “The Fool in the Forest!” exclaimed Piak. It was the first time he had spoken.

  “Yes, he was the one who put the flowers in Ardanwen’s bridle,” said Tiuri.

  “Flowers?” repeated Bendu with a puzzled look on his face.

  “That really doesn’t matter now,” Tiuri said hastily. “What matters, Sir Bendu, is that Marius saw Ristridin in the Wild Wood.”

  “He did? When?” cried Bendu.

  The Fool hid behind Tiuri again. “Why did you have to tell him?” he wailed. “Why?!”

  “Marius,” said Tiuri, “this knight – Bendu is his name – is the best friend of the knight you saw in the forest.”

  “They’re all best friends! All of them!” said the Fool. “I do not know them, your friends. I know only you, and I will speak only to you! And you say too much, Sir Tiuri, far too much. You even talk about the Men in Green.”

  Bendu listened with impatience. “I fear you also say too much,” he said to the Fool. “But what do you know of Sir Ristridin?”

  “Who is Sir Ristridin?” asked the Fool. “I don’t know. I don’t know!”

  “Calm down,” said Tiuri soothingly. “The knight you saw carving signs in a tree. Do you remember?”

  Bendu turned to the Fool and questioned him in his usual gruff tone.

  That only scared the Fool even more and the longer his answers were, the more confused and evasive they became.

  “What a lot of nonsense!” Bendu finally blurted out.

  Tiuri said angrily, “You are frightening him, Sir Bendu! Please ask him no more questions. I shall talk to him.” He turned to the Fool and tried to calm him, but with little success.

  “I know, I know!” said the Fool. “I talk nonsense. Everyone says so.” He continued to babble almost unintelligibly about the “men who are coming back” and the “Men in Green”.

  At those words, Bendu really did lose his patience. “That’s all we need,” he sneered. “The Men in Green, in the depths of the forest, flying from tree to tree.”

  The Fool stared at him. “Yes, yes! That’s exactly what they do!” he said. “You have seen them!”

  That was enough reason for Bendu to dismiss all the Fool had said as truly foolish nonsense. “Right,” he said brusquely. “I’m going to see the champion crowned. And if you think it at all important, Tiuri, you might also wish to show your face.” And Bendu strode away.

  “You mustn’t be scared of him, Marius,” Piak said to the Fool. “Sir Bendu is often a little rough-spoken, but he doesn’t mean any harm.”

  The Fool wiped a tear from his eye. “You all talk too much,” he mumbled. But Piak seemed to have made him feel a little better.

  “Then, for now, we shall be silent,” said Tiuri. “Come on, let’s go to the castle. We’ll talk more later.”

  But the Fool refused to take a single step in that direction. “I am not going in there,” he declared.

  The sound of applause came from the castle.

  “I’ll wait for you, outside or in the forest,” said the Fool. “I’ll wait for you. And this friend,” he added, nodding at Piak, “can come, too. But I’m not going in there.” Then he turned and ran away.

  Tiuri went after him. “Marius!” he called.

  The Fool stopped and looked at him. He seemed much calmer now. “I won’t forget,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”

  Tiuri realized he could not persuade him. “Fine, then,” he said. “I’ll see you again tomorrow. And I’ll take you back to the cabin.”

  The Fool smiled. “You are my Friend,” he said and started walking again.

  Tiuri frowned. Should he really let Marius out of his sight? The Fool was older than Tiuri, but in many respects he was like a child.

  “He’s different, not like other people,” he said quietly.

  “Yes,” Piak agreed. “You’re right.”

  “I owe you an explanation,” Tiuri said to his friend.

  “Never mind,” he replied.

  “I rode off without…” Tiuri began.

  “Without me,” said Piak, interrupting him. “Oh, maybe it was just as well.”

  They made their way to the castle. Soldiers had appeared in the gateway and were watching them.

  “What’s this story about Sir Ristridin?” asked Piak.

  “I’ll tell you later,” replied Tiuri. “First the festivities.”

  “No one had any idea where you were,” said Piak. “Except perhaps for Isadoro. I think Sir Fitil was angry, but he still kept laughing long and loud. And Sir Evan won the ring-tilting contest.”

  A large crowd was gathered in one of the courtyards. As Tiuri and Piak entered, everyone was cheering Sir Evan as the victor of the games.

  Lady Isadoro was standing with Evan on a platform. She placed a wreath on his head and declared, “To Evan the victory! And good luck to him!”

  Everyone cheered and Tiuri felt a pang of jealousy. So the enchantment was not entirely gone; he wished Isadoro had looked at him the way she was looking at Evan now. He was annoyed that what had happened between them seemed to have made little impact on her.

  Then Sir Fitil came over, accompanied by Bendu.

  “You have missed out on the fame and the honour!” he cried with a booming laugh. But his expression was not unkind.

  “My lord,” said Tiuri, “I offer you my apologies. It was truly not my plan to remain away from your festivities so discourteously. I believed I would return in time, but…”

  “You met a friend,” the lord of the castle said, completing his sentence for him. “I just heard the news from Sir Bendu. A rather peculiar fellow, I understand.”

  “Oh no, not at all,” said Tiuri. “A little strange perhaps for those who do not know him well. He was in trouble.”

  “Where is he?” asked Sir Fitil, frowning and narrowing his eyes.

  “He didn’t want to come inside,” replied Tiuri.

  “The poor chap’s not quite right in the head, is he?” said Sir Fitil.

  “No. That’s not true,” said Tiuri indignantly.

  “Fine, fine!” said Sir Fitil breezily. “A knight must stand up for his friends, Sir Tiuri! Ah, I see my daughter has spotted you, too.”

  Tiuri followed his gaze. Isadoro was staring at him. He bowed to her, feeling rather uncomfortable.

  Evan was beside her and people were crowding around them, so Tiuri could not go to her.

  “The prodigal son has returned!” cried Sir Fitil. “And the best part of the festivities is yet to come: the fatted calf has been killed! Fine food for one and all! Let us head inside, sit down for our feast and raise a glass of the best wine from my cellar!”

  His words were greeted by cheers and all the guests followed him as he entered the castle.

  Long tables had been set up in the hall, and laid with pewter cups and glasses and bowls full of all kinds of bread. Two cooks were at work beside the big fire, where meat was roasting on a spit. Colourful banners hung on the walls and vases of blossom were dotted around the room.

  Musicians arrived with their lutes and trumpets. They climbed the steps into the gallery, where they took their places and began to play. They were a little out of tune, and Isadoro, who was sitting with Evan in the place of honour, laughed and covered her ears. One of Sir Fitil’s dogs began to howl, which didn’t improve the sound, and it was chased from the hall with much hullabaloo. By then everyone was seated and they waited in silence as the lord of the castle began the feast with a prayer and a blessing. Then the guests tucked in, trying to make themselves heard above the music. Before long Sir Fitil beckoned the musicians to join them at the table. “You must have worked up an appetite!” he cried. “And even more of a thirst! Isadoro, I shall send for your harp. You must play something for us.”

  The guests, most of whom were soldiers in Fitil’s service, clapped their hands, and Evan, still wearing his victor’s wre
ath, laughed and said something to the lady.

  But Isadoro did not laugh. She looked at her father and said, “No,” so abruptly that it was almost rude.

  For a moment it seemed as if Sir Fitil would respond in anger, but then he laughed and shouted, “Isadoro does not like to play this early in the evening. Let us remain patient and sing something while we wait – but not with our mouths full, of course!” He started the song himself, in his deep voice:

  Gathered here together, all good friends,

  all good friends…

  The sound of a horn outside made him break off his song. “Aha, the gate is still open. Another guest at our feast!” he cried. “The more the merrier!” And he ordered his servants to go around with the wine once again.

  A man appeared in the doorway, dirty and dusty from a long ride.

  Sir Fitil saw him first. “Welcome, welcome!” he called. “Celebrate with us in honour of Sir Evan and Bendu and of… of all who are guests here or who live in my castle. Come in, sit down!”

  The man came closer, walking unsteadily, as if he were very tired, but he did not sit down. He opened his mouth and said something that could not be heard above the hubbub in the room.

  “Sit down, sit down!” cried Sir Fitil.

  The man spoke again. “Sir Bendu…” was all Tiuri heard.

  “Hey, everyone! Be quiet for a moment!” called Sir Fitil.

  Now they could all hear what the man had to say.

  “I come from Sir Arturin at Castle Ristridin with a message for Sir Bendu and his companions.”

  “Has Ristridin returned?” asked Bendu, standing up.

  “No,” said the man. “There has been… They came from Deltaland. They’ve invaded! They’ve invaded our country.”

  “Invaded?” repeated Fitil.

  “An invasion from Deltaland,” said the messenger. He took a deep breath and leant with one hand on the table. “Sir Arturin sent me here as soon as he heard,” he added, haltingly. “I rode without stopping. I’m sure no one has ever covered that distance so quickly…”