by Tonke Dragt
“Look,” he said. “You can see the cabin one last time.” They had reached the top of their climb and would have to go downhill for some way before they started to make their way up the next ridge.
“Phew,” said Tiuri, throwing down his bag. “I’m so hot.”
“It’s going to get hotter soon,” said Piak brightly. “There are still trees at this height, but it’s more exposed higher up. And when you get even higher, there’s snow and ice.”
“Oh, I could do with some snow right now,” said Tiuri.
“You’ll have plenty of chance to be cold later on,” Piak cheerfully promised him. “Shall we get going?”
“We’ve barely had a minute’s rest,” grumbled Jaro.
“We’ll take a rest later,” said Piak. “When we stop to eat. Or are you really tired?”
“Hmm, tired,” muttered Jaro. “No, I wouldn’t say that. There’s no need to stop on my account. This is a good path. Does it stay like this?”
“No,” replied Piak. “This path leads up to a couple of cabins. After that, there’s not an actual path as such… at least not for someone who doesn’t know the way. But, honestly, it’s really not going to be a difficult journey, and the weather’s good.”
Jaro opened his mouth as if to say something, but then seemed to think better of it.
They continued through a densely wooded valley with a brook babbling through it. Tiuri and Jaro quenched their thirst, but Piak warned them not to drink too much. Then they started climbing upwards again. By the time the sun was in the south, they had reached the second mountain ridge. The landscape was already much more wild and bare, but there was still a path. They sat down in the shade of a large rock, and unpacked their food.
“Wait,” said Piak. “There are some berries growing near here; they’ll be tasty. I’ll go and pick a few.” He dashed off.
“That boy never seems to get tired,” remarked Jaro. “But then he’s used to climbing.”
“You’re right,” said Tiuri with a weary nod.
Jaro picked up a piece of bread and broke some off. He seemed distracted and, rather than eating it, he sat there, crumbling it between his fingers. Then he looked back at the path they’d followed and he frowned. Tiuri thought there was something troubling him, but he didn’t know how to broach the subject, and so he remained silent.
Tiuri could hear Piak singing somewhere nearby, but then he must have moved, because his song became quieter and died away.
“Right then,” said Jaro, so loudly and so suddenly that it startled Tiuri. Jaro took his bag, stood up and looked at Tiuri. “I’ll be going, then,” he announced.
Tiuri stared at him in amazement. “Going?” he repeated.
“Yes, I’m heading back,” said Jaro, pointing eastwards. “I can find the way myself.”
“But why?” said Tiuri, leaping to his feet.
“Don’t you understand?” asked Jaro.
“But you wanted to cross the mountains!” said Tiuri.
“You think so? Did you believe me when I told you that?” said Jaro, staring right at him.
“Well, yes, I had no reason not to believe you,” Tiuri began and then he fell silent. “That’s not why…” he continued. “I mean, you don’t think I don’t want you here, do you?” Again he paused, as he searched for the right words. What he had said was not true. He had doubted Jaro, and he would have preferred not to have his company!
“You don’t trust me,” said Jaro with a grim smile.
“I trust you…” Tiuri began. “Look, Jaro, I have nothing against you! I wish I could explain it to you, but I can’t. But you are welcome to travel with me.”
“Ah, be quiet,” said Jaro. He turned away and stared at the path again. “You were right not to trust me,” he said, without looking at Tiuri.
“Why’s that?” asked Tiuri after a moment’s silence.
Jaro glanced at him. “Don’t you understand?” he asked for the second time. “Do I have to spell it out? I knew very well that you didn’t want my company, but I didn’t care. I’d have followed you anyway. I had no idea why you called me back and asked me to travel with you. I wondered if you were a helpful fool or just very cunning. After all, it’s better to have an enemy as a travelling companion, where you can keep an eye on him, than to have him sneaking after you, isn’t it?” He looked again at Tiuri. “No matter,” he said. “Whether it was folly or cunning, you’ve defeated me. I’m going back. You need fear me no longer.”
“But why?” whispered Tiuri.
“Don’t you understand?” asked Jaro for the third time.
Tiuri thought he understood, but he wanted to find out more, and to be certain. “Be straight with me, Jaro,” he asked.
“Blast it,” said Jaro, his eyes flashing. “If that’s what you want! I have no business on the other side of the mountains. I was sent to kill you and to make sure that the letter you’re carrying would never reach King Unauwen! But I can’t do that now, can I? You saved my life! If you really didn’t trust me, that was a foolish mistake, a mistake I would never make myself. And yet your folly has made me just as powerless as if you’d allowed me to fall into that gorge. I can’t kill you. And I no longer want to.”
Jaro bowed his head, and seemed ashamed.
Tiuri didn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” he said finally.
Jaro just laughed. “The fool gets even more foolish!” he cried. “You thank me for not murdering you!”
“No,” said Tiuri. “That’s not it. I’m thanking you because, because you…” He fell silent. It did seem foolish to thank Jaro. And yet, for some reason he felt gratitude towards the man. Why? Because he had overcome his wickedness?
Jaro interrupted his thoughts. “So now you know,” he said. “And don’t go thinking I’m any better than I am! Back there, by the gorge, I was planning to push you in, but I stumbled and I fell myself. It sounds like one of those stories with a moral, doesn’t it? I thought I was a dead man, but then you…” He stopped. “So, anyway, that’s it,” he said calmly. “I’ve killed men before, but I can’t murder you. Go on your way in peace. Perhaps you will reach your destination, but that is no concern of mine.”
“So you were sent to murder me,” said Tiuri. “Who sent you? Are you one of the Red Riders? Were you sent by the Black Knight with the Red Shield?”
“Yes, I am one of the Red Riders,” replied Jaro, “and the Black Knight with the Red Shield is my master.”
“Who is he?”
“And that is no concern of yours,” said Jaro. “For your sake, I have disobeyed his orders for the first time. Let that be enough for you.”
“But… do you intend to return to him?” asked Tiuri.
“I don’t yet know what I mean to do,” Jaro snapped. “But that is my business. And we shall never see each other again.”
“I don’t like the thought of you going back to him,” said Tiuri.
“Ah, you’re not going to start lecturing me, are you? Maybe I can’t go back. He doesn’t like servants who fail him. But, I repeat, that is my business alone.”
“No,” said Tiuri quietly. “Not entirely, Jaro! We may never see each other again, but each of us owes his life to the other, and that includes all that we might do in the future.”
Jaro thought for a moment. “That may be so,” he said. “Perhaps, if you put it that way, our affairs are somehow intertwined. But each of us will go his own way, even though my path may well be different from what I had always expected.” Then he seemed to regret his words. “I’m leaving,” he said. “And I wish you a good journey.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and walked away.
“Farewell,” said Tiuri.
Jaro walked for some way, but then stopped, hesitated, and came back. “It’s not right of me to leave like this,” he said. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
“What?” asked Tiuri.
“I owe my life to you,” replied Jaro, “and I cannot allow you to think that
the danger is over now that I am leaving. I am not the only man who was sent to follow you.”
“Not the only man?” repeated Tiuri.
“No. We saw your party split up. I was sent to follow your group, and another man went after the group that took the road to the west: two Grey Knights, a squire, and a young man on a black horse. We thought at first that he was the one we were after, but when we saw you setting off along the Blue River all by yourself, we began to have our doubts and so I went after you. When I saw you clearly, I knew you were the one we wanted.”
“How?” said Tiuri, interrupting him.
“I recognized you. I was one of the Red Riders who went after you in King Dagonaut’s forest.”
“And were you with the…?” Tiuri bit his tongue. He had wanted to ask, “And were you with the men who murdered Sir Edwinem?”, but it seemed wiser not to mention that subject.
Jaro, however, seemed to see the question in his eyes. He turned away and said, “You know that I am a wicked man, don’t you?” Then he continued with his story. “The other man who came after you will soon realize that he’s following a false trail,” he said. “But that one won’t give up and return. No, he’ll keep on trying to find you, because that is his mission and his goal. Perhaps he will attempt to find and follow your trail. Or he might try to cross the mountains before you and wait for you on the other side. But he will not rest until he has you! He’s not like me. If you’d pulled him out of the gorge, he’d have thrown you straight down into it without a second thought. He is the best of spies and the worst of men. He is crafty and cunning and nothing and nobody can stand in his way.”
“Who is he?” whispered Tiuri.
“None of us know his true name, but we call him Slither. It seems to suit him. You must be on your guard against him!”
“What does he look like?”
Jaro shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes he is a Red Rider,” he replied, “and sometimes an ordinary soldier. But he usually works as a spy and then you might encounter him in any guise. What does he look like? Not big, not small, not short, not tall, not old not young, not dark nor blond. His eyes are the only thing that give him away; they’re as mean as a snake’s. We were all afraid of him. Sometimes we feared we might become as evil as him!” Jaro was silent for a moment and then he smiled and said, “So now I’ve not only defied my master’s orders, I’ve done my best to scupper his plans! And that was all I wanted to tell you. Farewell.”
Tiuri held out his hand. “Thank you, Jaro,” he said. “If you don’t know what to do now, speak to Menaures. I’m sure he will advise you and help you. He may already know more than you think. Farewell.”
4 PIAK
Tiuri watched Jaro go until he had disappeared from sight. Then he sat down to think through what he had told him.
“Now we can eat,” said Piak, suddenly reappearing. “Here you are.” He held out a handful of berries to Tiuri.
Tiuri looked at him, feeling rather confused. The shepherd boy had slipped his mind for a moment. “Oh, thank you,” he said.
Piak put the berries on a flat stone and squatted down. “So he’s gone, then?” he said calmly.
“Yes,” said Tiuri. “But how did you know that?”
“I saw him leave,” replied Piak, popping a berry into his mouth.
“Oh,” said Tiuri. He wondered if Piak had heard anything of their conversation.
Piak spat out a pip, picked up another berry and examined it. Then he turned his clear gaze on Tiuri.
“Who exactly are you?” he asked quietly.
“What do you mean?” Tiuri asked.
“Are you a knight on a quest?”
“However did you come up with that idea?” asked Tiuri.
“Oh, I already suspected you weren’t an ordinary traveller. I saw your chainmail in the chest in Menaures’s cabin, and…” Piak paused and ate the second berry. “And,” he continued, “I heard every word the two of you said. I didn’t do it on purpose! But sometimes up here you can hear voices from miles away. It’s the echoes. I was going to walk away, but then I remembered what Menaures had said and thought it’d be better if I knew everything.”
“Oh,” said Tiuri again, not sure whether to be surprised, angry or worried.
“Yes,” Piak continued. “At least I know what to look out for now. Like that Slither, for instance. He’s not going to get his hands on us here, not up in the mountains, not if I have anything to do with it! He’s more likely to take a tumble into a ravine himself.”
“Really?” said Tiuri. “But now I want you to tell me exactly what…”
But Piak didn’t let him finish. He leapt to his feet, grabbed their bags and said, “Come with me!”
“What’s wrong?” asked Tiuri.
“Let’s find somewhere else to sit. Think of the echoes!”
Soon they had found a safer spot and Piak resumed his story. “I don’t understand everything that Jaro said to you, but I did get some of it,” he said quietly. “You have a letter for King Unauwen, and some knight doesn’t want the king to receive it. And so he sent Jaro to track you down. And he’s sent a man called Slither after you as well, who’s as sly as a snake.” He paused. “You’re not saying anything. Of course not! You don’t trust me. I bet you’re just like an uncle of mine, who always says: Trust only yourself! Well, you’re right. But I know now and I think it’s better that you know that I know. Then you know where you stand and I don’t have to pretend not to know.”
Tiuri laughed. “That’s true enough,” he said. “And there’s something else that I know now: be careful when you’re talking in the mountains. The echoes can give you away.”
Piak laughed too. But then his expression became serious and he said, “There’s no need to worry that I’ll give you away, though. You really can trust me. You see, I have a task, too. Menaures gave it to me. ‘You must be his guide,’ he said to me. ‘You must show him a short way that is as safe as possible. You must make sure no one follows him. You must remain awake when he sleeps and stay with him when he is awake.’ And that is my task. That’s why I stayed nearby and listened to your conversation. So I have the task of being a guide for someone with a task, and that somehow makes your task my task too.”
Tiuri felt happy and relieved as he looked at Piak. Piak would be not only a guide and a travelling companion, but also a friend. He held out his hand. “I trust you completely,” he said. “Here, let’s shake on it. I do indeed have a task, but I’m not allowed to speak to anyone about it. There are enemies who want to stop me, as I know to my cost. I may tell you more about it later. But I would ask you this: never let anyone else see that you know.”
“That goes without saying,” said Piak, shaking Tiuri’s hand. Then he gasped. “Oh, I’m such a fool!” he exclaimed. “I’ve left the berries behind! I’ll fetch them. Actually, it’s their fault that I found out your secret and they shall be eaten up as a punishment, so that they can never reveal it to anyone else.”
“It’s so beautiful up here,” said Tiuri, as they went on their way. He seemed to be able to see everything so much better now that he was no longer burdened by weariness and pain, by worry and suspicion: the mighty mountains, the spindly pine trees scattered across the landscape, the constantly changing panoramas, the racing, splashing streams, and the clouds like veils on the mountain peaks.
“Do you think so, too?” asked Piak. “This is all I know, so I have no comparison, but I don’t think I’d ever want to live anywhere else. I love to climb and climb and see where I end up. My father was just the same, and the people in my village said that he was mad. He fell into a ravine one day and they say I’m going to go the same way. Which is nonsense! One of my father’s neighbours would never take a step outside the village and he died falling downstairs. You’re better off going headfirst into a ravine, don’t you think? Then at least you’ve seen something of the world.”
Tiuri agreed with him.
Piak went on talking about his fath
er. “They say I look like him,” he said. “His name was Piak, too. Is your father still alive?”
“Yes,” replied Tiuri. “We have the same name as well.”
“So he’s called Martin,” said Piak.
“No,” said Tiuri quietly. “His name is Tiuri, and that’s my name as well.”
“Ah,” said Piak, staring at him with wide eyes.
“But you mustn’t call me that when anyone else is around,” added Tiuri.
“No, no, of course not,” said Piak. It looked as if he wanted to ask Tiuri something, but he remained silent.
Around sunset, they reached the place that Piak had set as their goal for the day: the two mountain cabins he had mentioned. They were both empty and unused, but they would be a good shelter for the night. Tiuri realized that it was indeed becoming chilly now that the sun was going down, and he was glad he had the sheepskin to wear. They set up camp in one of the cabins and had something to eat. They did not make a fire, though, as the smoke might give away their position.
After they had finished eating, Piak took out a small bottle and said, “Menaures gave me this. He said I was to put it on your wound.”
Tiuri smiled and bravely submitted to the treatment. “I don’t know much about this kind of thing,” said Piak, “but I think the wound’s looking good. Menaures said to use the ointment if it starts to hurt again and to make sure the cold doesn’t get into it.”
“It’s fine, you know,” said Tiuri. “It’s not bothering me anymore.”
They rolled themselves up in their blankets to go to sleep.
“Tomorrow,” said Piak, “we’ll take a path where no one will follow us.”