The Letter for the King

by Tonke Dragt

  When they emerged on the other side of the arch, Tiuri saw that the castle came right up to the edge of the water. There was a small landing with a set of stairs leading directly into the building. As they were mooring the boat, a man appeared at the top of the stairs. With a start, Tiuri recognized him as the toll master himself. He just stood there, watching them.

  Warmin was the first to jump ashore and he saluted his master with his sword. Then he ordered his prisoners to follow him. He did not head up the stairs, however, but walked towards a small gate at the far end of the landing.

  Tiuri didn’t move, but said, “I wish to speak to the toll master.”

  “We shall see about that,” Warmin said. “Follow me.”

  “I want to speak to the toll master,” repeated Tiuri. “Now.” He was sure the toll master, standing at the top of the stairs, must have heard him, but the man did not react.

  Warmin paused for a moment and then went up the stairs and spoke to his master. Tiuri saw the toll master shake his head and Warmin came back downstairs. The toll master turned away and disappeared into the castle.

  “Come with me,” barked Warmin.

  “Can’t I speak to the toll master?” asked Tiuri.

  “I’m sure you know the answer to that question,” came the reply.

  “But I have to speak to him,” said Tiuri. “It’s important. Really.”

  “That may well be the case,” said Warmin, “but it won’t be that easy now. I’ve asked him and he said no. And that’s the end of it.”

  Warmin remained silent as he led Tiuri and Piak through the gate and into the castle. He took them along a passageway and down a flight of stairs into a dark, vaulted room. A portly man came over to them, with a lantern in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other.

  “Prisoners,” Warmin said. “Tried to evade the toll.” He took his cloak from Piak’s shoulders and was about to leave, but Tiuri stopped him.

  “Sir,” he said, “you have been so kind to us. And I would ask you for one more kindness. Would you please speak to the toll master on my behalf? It’s vital that I talk to him as soon as possible. I can explain to him why I tried to avoid paying the toll.”

  “Yes. Why did you do that?” asked Piak. Back on the island, the two of them had agreed that Piak should act as if he knew nothing. It seemed the best way to keep it secret that Piak now knew the message too.

  “That is something I can tell only to the toll master,” said Tiuri, as they had agreed.

  Warmin looked at Tiuri, then Piak. “Hmm,” he said. “We’ll see.”

  Then he turned and walked away.

  “Come along,” said the large man. “I’m the jailer. And you’re my responsibility until they let you go.”

  He opened a door and told them to go through. They found themselves in a bare cell with no windows and just a pile of straw in one corner.

  “How long do we have to stay here?” asked Piak.

  “You could have worked for three weeks, outside in the sunshine,” replied the jailer, “and you’d have earned your toll money. Now you’ll have to sit around in the dark for three weeks, doing nothing, and when you get out you still won’t have a farthing to help you pay the toll.”

  “Is there no way they can just let us go now?” asked Piak.

  “No,” said the jailer with a look of satisfaction. “Because I’m your guard and I’m not letting you out. Unless someone comes to pay the three gold pieces for you, that is… That’s the fine for getting you out of jail. And if you still want to cross the bridge, it’ll cost you another three gold pieces. But you didn’t have any gold pieces, did you?”

  Tiuri and Piak didn’t reply.

  “Well then,” said the jailer. “I’ll be off. You’re lucky you’re in here together. At least you’ve got someone to talk to. And if I can give you some advice: take off those wet clothes. You’re better off with no clothes than wet ones. The straw’s dry. I put some fresh stuff in only yesterday.”

  Then he left and locked the door behind him. The cell was plunged into darkness.

  “I don’t know what’s worse,” said Piak. “The cold or the dark.”

  “Let’s hope,” said Tiuri, “we won’t be in here too long.”

  They followed the jailer’s advice and got undressed and curled up on the straw. But there was no way they could sleep. They were far too agitated. Tiuri slipped the ring onto his finger and held up his hand. The light of the stone was faint, but clear, and it gave them both some comfort.

  When they heard a key turn in the lock, they had no idea how much time had gone by. Tiuri slid the ring from his finger and hid it in his hand.

  The jailer came in. He held up his lantern and said, “Which one of you wanted to speak to the toll master?”

  “I did,” said Tiuri, standing up.

  “Then you must come with me.”

  Tiuri quickly pulled on his clothes.

  “Shouldn’t your friend come too?” asked the jailer.

  “No,” said Tiuri. “Just me.” And when the jailer wasn’t looking, he winked at Piak.

  “You’re not leaving me alone in here, are you?” Piak said, pretending to be scared.

  “No,” said Tiuri. “I just need to ask the toll master something. You’ll be fine!”

  Tiuri followed the jailer through the vaulted room and back up the stairs. Another of the toll master’s servants was waiting to lead him up into a higher part of the castle.

  “Here we are,” said the servant finally, opening a door. “Go on in. The toll master is expecting you.”

  Tiuri went through the door. He couldn’t help blinking at first, because it was so bright. Then he looked around. It was a large room with two windows on the opposite wall, which looked out over the river. At the far end was a large table with a man sitting at it. It was the toll master. Tiuri hesitated for a moment and then started to walk towards him. The toll master’s voice stopped him.

  “Go to the window,” he ordered, “and look outside.”

  Tiuri did as he was told. He stood beside one of the windows and looked out at the river. Now he realized where its name came from; in the sunlight, the water glinted with every colour of the rainbow. The bridge was directly beneath him. He saw people walking across it, and a rider and a horse-drawn cart. The sky had cleared up, and he could see a long way.

  Tiuri turned to look at the toll master, who had stood up and come to join him.

  “Have you taken a good look at the bridge?” he asked. His voice was very different than Tiuri had expected. It was a low, melodic voice, the kind of voice you had to listen to, whether you wanted to or not. “It looks smaller from up here,” continued the toll master, “but you get a better impression of the width of the river it spans. This bridge was constructed long, long ago, and building it took a great deal of hard work and effort. Lots of work and lots of money. That is why every person who used it had to pay. Because the bridge was built for everyone. Paying the toll made a person a partial owner of the bridge, even if it was just one stone. This bridge linking east and west now has thousands of owners.”

  “But,” said Tiuri quietly, “hasn’t it been paid for by now?”

  He looked up at the toll master, who stood beside him, his arms crossed and his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his long robe. He was looking out at the bridge, with an expression that was both thoughtful and serious. Then he turned to Tiuri. He had dark eyes, which looked sad rather than stern.

  “If you want something, you have to be prepared to pay for it,” he said.

  Tiuri was surprised by this man, who was so different from what he had expected and feared.

  The toll master looked through the window again. “This bridge, like the others, was built to connect the Kingdom of Unauwen to the world beyond,” he continued. “The Rainbow River was once the country’s border. Many people came from the east, longing to get to the other side of the river and prepared to pay for the crossing. There have also been difficult times, times
of danger, of raids from the north, east and south. Back then, the toll masters were the guards of the river, the defenders of the heart of Unauwen’s kingdom. In later years, the land all the way to the Great Mountains came under the rule of Unauwen, but the tradition remained: anyone who crossed the Rainbow River owed a toll to the king. The king himself appointed the toll masters. This is still the case, although nowadays anyone who crosses more than three times no longer has to pay the toll. And this will probably long remain so. Although I hope the toll masters will never again have to be defenders of the kingdom, the stern, unrelenting lords that many people think we are.”

  Tiuri didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent. The toll master looked at him again and said briskly, “So, now tell me who you are and why you wish to speak to me.”

  “My lord,” Tiuri began, “I wish to cross the Rainbow River, but I have no money to pay with and no time to work for the gold. I…”

  The toll master interrupted him. “What is your name?”

  “Martin,” replied Tiuri, after a brief moment of hesitation.

  “You come from the other side of the mountains. I can tell from your accent,” said the toll master. “Is your name really Martin?”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Tiuri. “That is… what I call myself.”

  “Fine, so on this side of the mountains you are Martin. You have attempted to cross the Rainbow River without paying. That is a punishable offence and one that I never pardon. Why did you not come to me yesterday?”

  “Because…” Tiuri squeezed the ring he was holding in his hand.

  “My lord,” he said then. “I had no gold pieces to pay with, but I have something else, a jewel that is worth far more. I could use that to pay the toll, and the fine for both my friend and myself.”

  “I see. What kind of jewel is it? And why did you not mention this before?”

  “I am reluctant to part with it, my lord. Not only because it is valuable, but also because it is dear to me. I have no wish to sell it either. I wish to leave it as a guarantee. I should like to reclaim it later, and work for it for as long as you require.”

  “A guarantee?”

  “Yes, my lord. As proof that I will return. Do you agree to my request?”

  The toll master narrowed his eyes and did not reply. “Why exactly are you in such a hurry?” he asked.

  “It’s hard to explain,” Tiuri replied.

  “Just start at the beginning.”

  “My lord,” said Tiuri. “I really cannot tell you.”

  Once again, the toll master turned his penetrating gaze on him. Tiuri waited anxiously for his reply.

  Finally the toll master spoke. “You and your friend owe me two times three gold pieces,” he said, “and another two times three gold pieces to get out of jail. If your piece of jewellery is worth twelve gold pieces, I will do as you ask. Show it to me.”

  The toll master held out his right hand, his palm facing upwards. Tiuri placed the ring in it. The toll master stared at the ring, closed his fingers around it, and looked back at Tiuri. Before the toll master had even spoken a word, Tiuri knew that he recognized the ring!

  “How did you come by this ring?” the toll master asked sharply. He opened his hand again and said, “This ring does not belong to you! So how did you get it?”

  “My lord,” said Tiuri, “I see that you recognize this ring. And indeed it does not belong to me, although it was given to me…”

  “Given to you?” said the toll master. “Given to you? By whom? There are only twelve such rings. Look!” He held out his left hand and showed Tiuri the ring he was wearing.

  Tiuri gasped. “It’s the same!” he said.

  “Not exactly. Only two of these rings are identical. King Unauwen gave them to his sons. He gave five to his knights and five to the lords of the bridges and rivers.”

  Tiuri remembered what Sir Evan had said: “King Unauwen gave these rings to his most faithful paladins.”

  “So how did you get this ring?” the toll master asked again.

  His faithful paladins! And the toll master was one of them!

  “Sir Edwinem gave it to me,” replied Tiuri.

  “Edwinem,” repeated the toll master. “Where, when and why did he give you his ring?” Then he asked quietly, “Is Edwinem dead?”

  “Yes,” Tiuri replied.

  The toll master’s face showed no sign of horror, grief or even surprise, but his hand closed so tightly around the ring that his knuckles turned white. “Tell me more,” he ordered.

  “I can tell you but little,” said Tiuri. “He was murdered by the Red Riders and their master, the Black Knight with the Red Shield.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Lured into a trap.”

  “Where?”

  “In the forest close to the City of Dagonaut.”

  “In the Kingdom of Dagonaut? Not in Eviellan?”

  “He rode from Eviellan,” said Tiuri, “and he was on his way here.”

  The toll master walked back to the table and sat down. He pushed aside the book that lay open on the table and placed Edwinem’s ring in front of him. He beckoned Tiuri closer. Tiuri stood beside the table and told the toll master about the slaying of Sir Edwinem, and how it had come to pass. But he mentioned nothing about the letter.

  “I gather from your words that it is he who sent you here,” said the toll master, when Tiuri had finished.

  “Yes, my lord,” said Tiuri.

  “He gave you the ring to carry with you.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And you are on your way to the king.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Is that all you can say?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And you wanted to hand over this ring – Sir Edwinem’s ring – as payment for the toll.”

  “Yes, my lord. As a guarantee that I will return.”

  “It does not belong to you. How can you give something that does not belong to you?”

  “Sir Edwinem would have done the same. I… I am travelling in his stead.”

  “To King Unauwen.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The toll master picked up the ring and looked at it again. “You bring alarming news,” he said. “One of Unauwen’s knights has been murdered by riders from Eviellan. Such a death cannot remain unavenged!” He put down the ring and rose to his feet. He looked just as Tiuri had imagined him to be when he had seen him the previous afternoon: stern, unrelenting, a man who was to be feared by his enemies.

  “Knights have ridden out to avenge his death,” explained Tiuri. “They call themselves the Grey Knights. They have already defeated many of the Red Riders.”

  “Grey Knights. And who are they?”

  “Their leader is Sir Ristridin.”

  “Ristridin of the South? I know his name. He was a friend of Edwinem’s.”

  “And Sir Bendu, and Arwaut, and Sir Evan of this land.”

  “Evan’s with them? Good. But you, Martin, or whatever your name might be, what do you have to do with these matters? What you have told me has surprised me, but much is still unexplained.”

  “I cannot say any more,” said Tiuri. “What remains to be told is for your king alone.”

  “And that is why you’re in such a hurry?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “You are the first messenger to have brought me this news. Do you know anything else about the company that was sent to Eviellan? About Sir Argarath and Sir Andomar of Ingewel?”

  “No, my lord,” said Tiuri. “It was actually by chance that I met Sir Edwinem… or perhaps not chance… I don’t know. But Sir Ristridin did tell me that Sir Edwinem fled Eviellan for some reason.”

  He gave the toll master a brief summary of what he had heard from Sir Ristridin.

  The toll master thought for a moment. Then he handed the ring to Tiuri. “Take the ring,” he said. “You should give it only to the king. You may cross the bridge. But you must promise me that you will co
me here on your return and pay me what you owe me. No one may cross the river without paying the toll.”

  “I promise, my lord,” said Tiuri. “And my friend…”

  “Your friend?”

  “Yes, he has to come with me.”

  “Fine, he may go too. When do you wish to leave?”

  “At once,” said Tiuri.

  The toll master banged a gong that stood beside the table. “You may leave directly, king’s messenger,” he said.

  “My lord,” said Tiuri, “please do not call me that. My mission is secret; no one may know of it.”

  The toll master nodded. The door opened and two servants came in.

  “Fetch the other boy from the cell,” said the toll master to one of the men. “And bring him to me.”

  The servant bowed and left.

  The toll master turned to the second servant and said, “You have something for me?”

  “My lord,” replied the servant, “a messenger has come for you from the east.” He handed the toll master a letter.

  The toll master broke the seals, read the letter and then asked, “Where is this messenger?”

  “He is waiting in the hall below,” the servant answered.

  “I shall come down,” said the toll master. He looked at Tiuri and said, “Wait for me here. I will soon return.” He left the room, with the servant following him.

  When Tiuri was alone, he started pacing the room. He was relieved that everything had turned out well, and eager to continue on his way. He looked out of the window again and thought about what the toll master had said. Then he walked back to the table. He hoped the toll master would return quickly. And Piak, faithful Piak. Tiuri’s eye fell on the book on the table, which the toll master had been reading. It was a big, thick book, and it was open at a page with beautifully drawn letters and a single golden initial, which was decorated with colourful flowers and tendrils. Tiuri walked around the table to take a better look. He recognized the letters, but the words themselves were unfamiliar, the words of a language he didn’t know. As he looked for longer, the words started to seem more familiar, and he realized that he had seen some of them before. In the letter for King Unauwen! Was this book written in the same language? If the toll master knew this language, he would understand the message. If only Tiuri could ask him!