The Secrets of the Wild Wood

  “Isa…” he said hesitantly.

  “Yes, Tiuri?” Her voice was soft and sweet.

  “I… you, you were going to tell me something else… You wanted to speak to me in private… Why?”

  “Oh, Tiuri,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t remember.”

  “But I’d really like to know,” he said.

  “So much more can be said without words, Tiuri,” she said with a smile, laying her hand on his chest.

  And suddenly Tiuri felt like a prisoner, bound with invisible gossamer threads. He was tempted to kiss Isa once again, but at the same time he wanted to explode at her in anger. He did neither, but instead said, loudly and clearly, “Isadoro, was it you who wove those yellow flowers into Ardanwen’s bridle? Just tell me, yes or no.”

  She pulled her hands away, hurt or annoyed, and said, “Are you bringing that up again?”

  “Yes or no?” repeated Tiuri. He didn’t want to speak to her that way, but he had to know.

  “Yes!” she said defiantly, but her attitude had changed. She seemed tense, almost afraid.

  “But how could you have done it,” said Tiuri, “when you were scared of Ardanwen?”

  “Don’t you believe me?” she asked angrily.

  No, thought Tiuri, but he said: “I… I have my doubts.”

  “Then you can just keep on doubting me,” she said indignantly and stood up. “I will answer only once. And I am starting to have my doubts about you, too – your behaviour towards me is most erratic!”

  “Isa…” Tiuri began.

  “Do not attempt to apologize,” she said haughtily as she walked away.

  Tiuri went after her. “Forgive me, Isa,” he said, “but this really matters to me! Come with me to see Ardanwen, and then I’ll be sure, and…”

  “You still distrust me!” she shouted. “But I refuse to go with you to see your precious horse!” And she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

  Then Tiuri really did feel miserable. He put his arms around her and tried to soothe her, “Isa, dear Isa!”

  She pulled away and turned on him like a fury, tears still trickling down her cheeks. Before he knew what was coming, she’d viciously slapped him in the face. She looked startled by her own action and her face turned pale.

  Tiuri turned on his heels and left the garden.

  6 THE ROAD TO THE UNHOLY HILLS

  Tiuri fixed his eyes on the ground as he walked to the stables, where Ardanwen was saddled and waiting. He jumped up onto his horse and rode away, past courtyards where people were busy working, through gates and across bridges. He almost didn’t see Piak, who had been waiting for him beside the outermost gate for some time.

  “Hey, Tiuri!” Piak called. “Tiuri, what’s wrong?”

  Tiuri reined in Ardanwen. “Wrong?” he said. “I… um… nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Piak, half surprised, half angry.

  “Just out for a ride,” Tiuri answered brusquely, and then he reluctantly added, “To the forest. Were you waiting for me?”

  “Yes, I was,” said Piak. “But you can forget about it! If you don’t need me, I’ve changed my mind about going.”

  “Oh, do come,” said Tiuri, suddenly feeling ashamed. “Of course you should come, Piak.”

  “No,” his friend replied. “I’d rather not. Goodbye!” He turned around and walked away.

  Tiuri watched Piak go, wondering if he should call him back. He really wanted to be alone for a while, and yet he felt unhappy with himself after he’d left the castle and was heading to the Wild Wood.

  Ardanwen didn’t keep to a trot; no, he raced onwards, and still he couldn’t go fast enough for Tiuri. He wanted to escape from the garden of Islan, from Lady Isadoro. He did not trust her, but he could feel her kiss tingling on his lips even now. And he knew that he had to do something: if the primroses weren’t from her, he needed to find out who had woven them into Ardanwen’s bridle.

  “I’m afraid she’s making a fool of me!” he called to Ardanwen. He could shout as loud as he wanted, because there was no one else for miles around. “I don’t want to be in love with her, but I am! Oh, Ardanwen, it’s all so difficult!”

  There was the spot where he’d sat with Isadoro the previous day. Was something moving in the bushes at the edge of the forest?

  Tiuri dismounted and rubbed down his steed. He hadn’t galloped so wild and so fast for a long time. “If only you could speak,” he whispered to his horse. “You know more about this than I do.” Ardanwen lowered his neck and twitched his fine ears.

  “Come on,” said Tiuri, heading slowly along the path to the old hunting lodge. Again he was seized by doubt. Wasn’t he a fool for coming here alone to look for… but what exactly was he hoping to find?

  At the fork for the Unholy Hills he pulled on the reins and stopped to look around.

  On the ground, in the mud, lay a yellow flower.

  Tiuri jumped down and picked it up. There were no other primroses nearby and this one had been picked just recently. He put his arm around Ardanwen’s neck and looked down the path. No sign of any movement. Something rustled in the undergrowth. A few birds darted up and flew angrily chattering over his head.

  “I think we should head in this direction,” he said, and that’s what they did.

  Just after the signpost he saw another flower and so he kept on riding. “Who is waiting for us, there, beyond the bend in the path?” he said quietly to Ardanwen. “Someone seems to be luring us to the Unholy Hills.”

  The path was narrow and winding, so he could not move quickly, and he also wanted to take some time to look around. He saw silvery-trunked birches and gnarled pine trees; he saw squirrels and partridges and he spotted a fox darting across the path, red tail flashing. The land was undulating, and he passed a few tracks leading off to either side. He saw no human beings, and yet it felt as if someone were keeping pace with him. Although he kept thinking he could see a figure beside him, it only happened when he was facing straight ahead. Whenever he turned to find out what was there, he saw no one.

  Finally, he stopped and jumped down from his horse.

  The track was so narrow now that it was indistinguishable from the side paths; the wood had become much denser. He realized he would have to take care not to get lost, and he didn’t like the thought of being lured in any deeper. He had found no more flowers. Whatever creature was waiting for him – he was almost certain something was there – would have to come out of hiding now. He peered in every direction and called out: “Who seeks me?” Then, more quietly, he continued, “And what is it that I seek?”

  There, in the trees, something was moving, walking! Was it a person? It dashed and darted and then disappeared behind a thick tree trunk.

  Tiuri remembered the stories about woodland spirits… did they exist? And did they have any power to harm humans?

  “I come as a friend!” he called, remembering the words on the signpost. He left the path and walked to the spot where he had seen the creature.

  Behind the thick tree trunk he found no one, but he saw a few snapped branches and trampled leaves. He glanced around and realized he’d lost the path. On every side he saw the same: trees! He couldn’t be in the Unholy Hills already, could he?

  Luckily he caught a glimpse of Ardanwen and ran towards him. But his horse was not alone. Someone stood beside him… a man!

  The man did not run away when Tiuri stepped out onto the path. He pressed himself against the horse and turned to look at Tiuri.

  Tiuri stopped, frozen in astonishment.

  He was a wild-looking man, dressed in little more than a shabby sheepskin. His arms and legs were bare and sunburnt, and his face was framed by a thick mop of brown curls and a tangled beard. That face had a pair of round blue eyes, which Tiuri had once known as childlike and happy, but which now looked at him with fear… fear, and also hope.

  Tiuri gasped. “Marius!” he exclaimed.

  PART THREE
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  THE FOOL IN THE FOREST

  1 AN OLD FRIEND

  Tiuri had first met Marius on his journey to the Kingdom of Unauwen. “I am the Fool in the Forest,” he had told him. “The Fool in the Forest, that’s what they all call me, the woodcutters and the charcoal burners, and my father and my brothers call me the same. But my mother calls me Marius.”

  Tiuri and Marius had become friends. That had been months ago, in a very different forest.

  “Do you remember me?” asked the Fool. “Do you still know my name? Don’t say it out loud! I know you, too. You are a traveller, a rider, and now I call you knight.”

  Tiuri went to greet him. “Marius!” he said. “However did you end up here?”

  “Sssh!” said the Fool. “My cabin is far away and no one can find me now. Not even you, but I saw you and searched for you. I saw you, knight and rider, on your black horse. But you were not alone. Are you alone now, alone with me in this Wild Wood?”

  “Yes,” replied Tiuri. “I found your flowers and I came back to look for you.”

  “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful black horse,” said the Fool, stroking Ardanwen, who calmly submitted. “I wanted to call out to you and to talk to you. But I couldn’t speak out loud and tell you I was there. So I called you with the flowers instead and I told your horse that he must return with you – with you, knight and rider. Did you come here for me, truly for me?”

  “Yes,” said Tiuri. “I truly came for you.” He looked in concern at the Fool. His friend had changed. He had grown thin, and his eyes seemed full of unshed tears. “What has happened, Marius?” he asked. “How did you come to be here and whatever’s wrong?”

  “Sssh!” said the Fool again. “I am happy to see you. Do you remember me bringing you food?”

  “I certainly do!” said Tiuri with a smile. “And I remember visiting you in your cabin.”

  The Fool’s tears suddenly began to flow. He hid his face in the horse’s mane.

  “Oh, Marius! Do tell me,” said Tiuri, laying his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What is it? Don’t be sad. I’ll help you.”

  The Fool raised his head. “I left the cabin,” he said, his voice trembling, “far, far away.” He wiped his nose and continued, “I didn’t want to leave, but they came and said to my brothers, ‘You’re coming with us.’ My brothers went and I had to go, too, but I didn’t want to.”

  “Who came and why did you have to go with them?” asked Tiuri.

  “Shh!” whispered the Fool. “They came and I had to go with them, and that’s how it was. It was a long time ago, and my mother doesn’t know where I am. And I don’t know where I am either.” He looked like he was about to start crying again.

  “Calm down, Marius,” said Tiuri. “It won’t be hard to find the cabin again, you know. I’ll take you there if you don’t know the way.”

  The Fool started to laugh through his tears. “Would you do that, sir knight?” he asked. “Would you do that and do you know the way? The cabin is so far.” Then his face clouded over again. “You can’t go there,” he said. “You mustn’t. They’ll find us and they’ll capture us. They’ll seek us and they’ll catch us…”

  “But who are you talking about?” asked Tiuri.

  The Fool looked around. “They are not here now,” he whispered. “But they will return. They were here last night, in that house, there.”

  “Where? And who do you mean?” asked Tiuri.

  The Fool pointed.

  “In the old hunting lodge? But no one goes there now,” said Tiuri. “And you…”

  But the Fool wasn’t listening. He was peering down the track toward the Unholy Hills. Then he turned back to Tiuri and said, “Come with me, rider. Climb on your horse and ride back. Climb on your horse. I will go with you. Quickly!”

  He broke into a run, constantly glancing back over his shoulder. Sometimes he went alongside the path as if he were scared he might be seen, and then he would step back out into the open to beckon to Tiuri. Tiuri could do nothing but follow him, still confused and wondering what exactly had happened to the Fool. Who were the “they” who had taken him against his wishes, and who were not here now but could return soon? Did they exist only in his friend’s imagination, or were they a real, living danger?

  Danger… But there was nothing out of the ordinary to be found in the Wild Wood, unless you believed in creatures like the Men in Green. And yet… Does Isa know anything about this? he thought. Is there some secret hidden in this wood after all?

  “Marius!” he called softly.

  The Fool turned back and came to walk beside him. “What is it?” he asked. “What do you want, knight and friend? You are my friend, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I’m your friend,” said Tiuri, as he brought Ardanwen to a stop and dismounted. They had reached the signpost.

  The Fool sat down beside the stone and huddled up, as if trying to hide. Tiuri crouched beside him.

  “Now you have to tell me everything,” he said.

  The Fool looked at him with wide eyes. “I’m frightened,” he whispered.

  They waited in silence for a short while. Tiuri felt a strange shiver run down his spine. He sat down beside the Fool, leant back against the stone and peered around. But the wood didn’t look frightening at all. Quite the opposite, in fact – it was nothing but pretty and full of the green of spring.

  The Fool began to speak. “I’m not allowed to tell anyone. ‘Keep your mouth shut,’ they said. ‘Or we’ll beat you to death.’ I mustn’t say anything.” He looked unhappily at Tiuri.

  “Now listen to me, Marius,” Tiuri said firmly. “No one is going to do anything to you while I am here. Do you hear me? You really can tell me everything!”

  “But I don’t want to, Friend,” whispered the Fool. “You don’t know who they are. You don’t know them.” He took hold of Tiuri’s hand. “Do you remember what you said to me before?” he continued. “When you were riding to the place where the sun goes down? That they were looking for you and they wanted to hurt you because of your secret! You said no more than that and I told no one about it. No one! This is a secret as well and I’m not even supposed to know it myself! ‘Ask nothing and say nothing,’ they said to me. They’re still looking for me and they’ll be looking for you, too, if I tell you.”

  “Let them look for me!” said Tiuri. “Please tell me, Marius! You’re talking in riddles. Who are ‘they’? Are there many of them? Or few? Where are they? What do they want?”

  The Fool gave a sigh. “Do not ask, do not ask, sir knight!” he said. “You are a valiant knight, and you are my friend. I have seen other knights, but they did not see me, no, no, never. They did not see me and they did not speak to me.” He furrowed his brow and continued slowly, “I saw a knight, but he was not as fine as you. His cloak was green, but it was ragged, like a poor man’s clothes. That’s strange, don’t you think, for a knight?”

  Tiuri nodded. He said nothing. He dared not say a word, as he feared the Fool might stop talking.

  “He had a sword, just like you,” said the Fool. “And a shield. Do you have a shield, too?”

  “I do,” replied Tiuri.

  “What colour is your shield? The other knight’s was… What colour is yours?”

  “White,” said Tiuri.

  “White. That’s beautiful, white,” said the Fool contentedly. “White. Like snow. But it hadn’t snowed yet when I saw him…”

  “What colour was his shield?” asked Tiuri.

  “That knight’s shield? Green and grey and white,” replied the Fool. “No, not white… What’s that colour called again? Silver! His cloak was green, and his shield was silver, green and grey. He had been fighting. Have you ever fought?”

  “I have,” said Tiuri. “But this knight, was he young or old, or…”

  “He had a beard, like me,” said the Fool. “But his hair was turning grey. I saw him very clearly, but he didn’t see me. He knelt down and cried.”

  “He cried
?” repeated Tiuri incredulously.

  “Ah, do knights never cry?” asked the Fool. “I’ve cried. Don’t you ever cry? My brothers call me a fool when I cry. They get angry and they laugh at me. You won’t be angry if I cry, will you?” He looked anxiously at Tiuri.

  “No, no, my dear Marius,” he said. “I don’t think you’re a fool at all! I’d just like to know why that knight was crying.”

  “He knelt down,” the Fool said again, “with his face in his hands, like this. He said something, but I didn’t hear what it was. And he took his sword, like this” – Marius made a gesture as if giving a salute – “and he cut into the tree. He scratched into the trunk – signs like these.” He put his finger on the letters of the stone signpost.

  “Then what happened?” asked Tiuri eagerly.

  “Then he walked away,” the Fool replied. “He walked to the river. He crouched, and he crept, and he looked. But he didn’t see me.”

  “And then?” asked Tiuri.

  “Then? He ran away. I didn’t see him again. Gone.” The Fool was silent for a moment. “I ran away as well,” he said. “They looked for me, but they didn’t find me. But I couldn’t find the cabin again.”

  Tiuri thought: Ristridin? Did he see Ristridin? The description fits, but… He couldn’t imagine it, Sir Ristridin crying – no, with his face hidden in his hands. Ristridin, taking his sword and carving symbols into a tree trunk…

  “Marius,” he said, “where did you see that knight, and when?”

  “I… I don’t know,” said the Fool. “I…” He jumped to his feet.

  Tiuri stood up, too. “Answer me,” he said urgently.

  “I don’t know if I’m allowed…” whispered the Fool. “They, they said… But he…” He gulped.

  “Was the knight one of the men who took you?” asked Tiuri.

  “No, no,” said the Fool.

  Tiuri leant towards him. “I think I know that knight,” he said quietly. “And, if so, he’s a friend of mine. A friend, Marius, just like you. That’s why I need you to tell me everything you know about him.”