The Letter for the King

by Tonke Dragt

  Tirillo smiled. “That’s right,” he said. “When King Unauwen gave it to me, he said, ‘One does not need to carry a sword and a shield to be a knight.’”

  “Yes,” said Tiuri. “Yes, of course.”

  It was true. Why should a jester not be among the king’s most faithful paladins? Tirillo was worthy of such a ring. He knew how to cheer people up when they were downhearted, and that was a gift few people shared.

  9 KNIGHTS AND KINGS

  The next day, more and more knights came riding over the bridge to the palace. They had all been called to the capital by King Unauwen. Tiuri and Piak heard the king was waiting for a message from the City of the South, where his eldest son, the crown prince, had his residence. It was said the crown prince himself would come, but that might not happen for some days yet.

  Among the knights who came was a man whom Tiuri had met before: the lord of the White Moon, the father of Ivan and Evan. Tiuri had a long conversation with him, and they talked a lot about Sir Evan.

  At midday, the knights and lords gathered in the largest room of the palace, where King Unauwen would address them. Tiuri and Piak were permitted to attend, and they felt most insignificant among all those powerful people. They saw the king in his full regalia for the first time, wearing white and purple, with a golden crown and sceptre. Not all of his knights were present; many were still in other parts of the land, not to mention those who had been sent to Eviellan. But there was a good number of knights, with gleaming helmets, white shields and rainbow-coloured cloaks. There were councillors and wise men in long robes and tall, pointed hats. Only Tirillo looked as he always did, with his fool’s cap and bells, and the glittering ring on his finger.

  King Unauwen rose from his throne and welcomed everyone. Then he said, “Friends, knights, subjects, hear now what I have to say. You know that two young men have brought us news of Sir Edwinem’s death. Tiuri and Piak have travelled through many dangers from the Kingdom of Dagonaut to our city…”

  Tiuri did not take his eyes off the king, but he could feel that many people were staring at him and Piak.

  “In addition to this sad news, they brought me a message,” the king continued, “from a letter that Sir Edwinem had passed on to Tiuri before his death. This letter came from Eviellan, but the ruler of that land did not want us ever to read it. As you know, the King of Eviellan has asked for peace, and in the spring I sent a delegation of knights to him. You also know that Sir Edwinem fled from Eviellan and that he was attacked and killed by Red Riders in the Kingdom of Dagonaut. So you will already have realized that Eviellan did not truly wish for peace. Messengers have been sent to the south for more information but it will be some time before they return. And yet I have news for you, a message that will be painful, although now it may not come as such a shock. Sir Andomar of Ingewel will never return to our land either. He was killed in the Southerly Mountains by men from Eviellan!”

  A deathly hush fell upon the room. Every face bore an expression of pain, horror or fury.

  “He was a valiant knight,” said the king softly, “a true paladin. May heaven have mercy on his soul.”

  Everyone in the room bowed their head to remember the valiant knight who would never return to Ingewel. Tiuri could picture the beautiful forest, and the village on the lake. His own anxious forebodings had been correct. Had the offer of peace been a trap to lure the knights to Eviellan?

  Then the king spoke again. “I received this news an hour ago,” he said. “It was brought by carrier pigeon from the City of the South in a message from the crown prince. The message was brief, but I hope to hear more soon. My son himself is to come here. Sir Andomar was killed but his squire escaped and reached the City of the South on the same day as Tiuri and Piak arrived in our city. His adventures may well have been similar to theirs. Sir Andomar was on his way to our land, perhaps with the same news as Sir Edwinem…”

  A quiet murmur went around the room, but as the king started talking again, everyone fell silent.

  “So, now for the message,” said King Unauwen, “the letter that Sir Edwinem gave to Tiuri. I did not want to reveal its contents until the crown prince had been informed, as the message primarily concerns him and his brother, the King of Eviellan. Sir Ivan took the message to him immediately and the crown prince has now heard the news.” He paused for a moment, his face troubled.

  “I have already told you that my younger son – because yes, the King of Eviellan is also my son – did not truly desire peace,” he continued. “And yet I tell you that he certainly wanted to sign a peace declaration! And if Sir Edwinem had not been there, we should be at peace now!”

  Another murmur rippled around the room. Tiuri looked wide-eyed at the king. What did it all mean? Surely the king did not doubt Sir Edwinem!

  “Sir Edwinem fled from Eviellan,” the king continued, “dressed in black, with a black shield. But the white was concealed beneath the black. He had discovered something… we do not know how, and we shall never know, because he can no longer tell us. A knight and riders from Eviellan killed him to prevent him from telling me what he knew. But the letter he wanted to bring was saved. Or rather, its contents were. It was written in the old tongue that is known to only a few adepts. My younger son also knows that language.”

  The king paused again.

  “I shall tell you what would have happened,” he said, “if Sir Edwinem had not been there and if the message he wanted to bring had been lost. We would have made peace with Eviellan. My younger son would have been reconciled with me and with his brother and he would have returned to his fatherland and his ancestral home. And we would all have been delighted, not suspecting what danger threatened us, what misfortune awaited us. We would have welcomed the enemy inside our borders. And what would have happened? Before long the crown prince would suddenly have died! Do you understand? My younger son was planning to kill his brother, or to have him killed, at a time when we no longer suspected him of any wrongdoing… so that he could get what he wanted: power over this kingdom! After the death of the crown prince, he would be the heir apparent. And that is the treacherous plan that lay concealed behind his request for peace! Eviellan is not enough for him; he wants to rule this land too!”

  King Unauwen looked around the room. Sadness was in his eyes, but his expression was stern as he said, “Now you know that the King of Eviellan is still our enemy. He must never rule this kingdom, for he is wicked! He is my son and I love him, but he is a wicked man. Sorrow would come to this land if he were ever to become its king!”

  So that was the message, thought Tiuri. He looked around and saw expressions of horror, fury and disgust. Then he looked back at the king. He was clearly angry too but, more than that, he looked sad.

  King Unauwen spoke again. “We know now about his evil intent,” he said, “so he shall never be able to carry out his cunning plan. He shall soon become aware that we know about it, if he does not realize already. He has already killed two of my knights so that his murderous plans would not be revealed. We do not yet know what has become of the others – of Sir Argarath, of Marcian, and Darowin – but I fear the worst. But, gentlemen, we already know enough. The King of Eviellan has failed; he will not ask for peace again. I fear that he will now attempt to achieve through violence what he can no longer gain through deception! I am afraid he will take up arms again. So we must prepare to defend ourselves.”

  The king concluded, “The news I have brought you is sad, but there is one stroke of good fortune: we now know where the danger lies. And, if needed, we shall face it together. Who among you is ready to fight?”

  The knights unsheathed their swords and the room became a forest of gleaming blades. And they all cheered their king.

  Then there was a discussion of how best to prepare the country’s defences. Tiuri and Piak were excused, as those matters did not concern them.

  The two friends left the palace and headed into the city. They stopped on one of the bridges over the White River an
d talked about what they’d heard. After a while, they ran out of things to say and, lost in thought, they both gazed down into the clear water.

  Tiuri thought about the young squire who had brought back news of Sir Andomar to the Kingdom of Unauwen. It was strange to think that he had not been alone. Another young man had been charged with the same kind of task as Tiuri and had perhaps known the same fears and the same satisfaction. Had the other messenger also found a friend as loyal as Piak? Tiuri looked at his companion. Piak was looking down the river towards the west.

  “Just think,” he said. “The sea’s over there. You know, I really would like to sail down the river to the sea.”

  “Me too,” said Tiuri. “If we had more time…” As he spoke the words, he realized that he had no time at all. He couldn’t stay any longer: King Dagonaut was surely expecting him to return. Nothing was preventing him from going back now. His job was done.

  “If we had more time,” he repeated, “but I need to get back to King Dagonaut.”

  “I understand,” said Piak. “When do you want to leave?”

  “I have to go, so it might as well be as soon as possible,” replied Tiuri. “Tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” said Piak, “then we’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Would you like to stay longer?” asked Tiuri.

  “I’m going with you,” was all that Piak said.

  They stood in silence for a while and then Piak asked, “Do you want to go back?”

  “Yes and no,” said Tiuri. “I’d like to remain here for a while and get to know the city and the people better, but I’m also longing to return home. It’s funny, eh?”

  “No,” said Piak. “I feel the same way. Part of me wants to stay here and another part of me wants to go back to the mountains.”

  “The Kingdom of Dagonaut seems so terribly far away,” Tiuri continued. “Sometimes I feel that everything will have changed when I get back there.” How long was it since he had left? Not even a month. Yet he’d seen so much in that time!

  Piak turned in a circle, waving his hand. “Farewell then, City of Unauwen,” he said.

  “No,” said Tiuri. “Not farewell. Let’s say, ‘Until we meet again.’ I’m certain we will return.”

  When they went back to the palace, the meeting was over and they found Tirillo surrounded by knights and squires.

  “So, Tirillo,” called one of the knights, “you chide us for daring to think about the great deeds that we will perform. But are you not accompanying us when we ride out?”

  “Most certainly,” replied the jester. “Someone has to keep an eye on you!”

  “And which weapons will you be taking, Tirillo?” asked another in a gently mocking tone.

  “His fool’s bauble to rap our knuckles,” said Marwen of Iduna, “and his jests to save us from pride.” Although he said this with a smile, he was clearly being serious.

  “That’s right,” another knight agreed. “If we are to combat evil, Tirillo’s presence is required.”

  “Well said, sir knight,” said the jester. “As long as you remember that fighting evil doesn’t necessarily make you good! Good and evil are each other’s enemies, but they are often found close together. Never forget that our crown prince and the King of Eviellan are brothers, the two sons of one father.” Then he spotted Tiuri and Piak. “Aha,” he said. “Here come our two friends. So, do you feel at home in our city?”

  “Yes, Tirillo,” said Tiuri.

  “But now, sadly, you must leave us,” the jester continued.

  “That’s right,” said Tiuri. He was no longer surprised when the jester guessed his thoughts. “Do you think we could speak to the king today?” he added.

  “Come with me,” said Tirillo, “I’ll take you to him. I’m sure he has a moment.”

  Tiuri and Piak followed him and Tiuri thought, Now I understand even better why Tirillo wears that sparkling ring. Not only because he is both wise and cheerful, but also because he makes sure the knights never become too conceited.

  Tiuri and Piak told King Unauwen that they had decided to begin their return journey as soon as possible.

  “You are right to do so,” said the king. “You are subjects of King Dagonaut. And Tiuri, now that you have kept your promise and completed your mission, you must tell your king everything. This time you shall be my messenger. I shall give you a letter for King Dagonaut. No, do not fear. It is, of course, an important message, but there are no dangers involved this time.”

  Tiuri smiled. “I am at your service, sire,” he said.

  “And what about you, Piak?” asked the king. “How far do you intend to accompany your friend? To the Great Mountains?”

  “N-no, sire,” said Piak. “We have agreed that I will travel on with him, to the City of Dagonaut.”

  “But I imagine you will be returning along the same route, will you not?” said the king. “When you see the hermit Menaures, please give him my regards.”

  “Do you know him, sire?” asked a surprised Piak.

  “Yes, I know him,” said the king. He smiled at the two boys and continued, “I am sorry you must leave, but I hope and expect to see you here again. Though your home and your duty lie in the Kingdom of Dagonaut, you will forever be allied with my own country too.”

  PART EIGHT

  BACK TO THE CITY

  OF DAGONAUT

  1 BROTHERS AND FRIENDS

  The next morning, the two friends left the City of Unauwen. They had taken their leave of the king and the other people they had met, and rode towards the rising sun. The sky ahead of them blushed purple, pink, red and gold but, as they rode slowly on, they often looked back at the city, wondering when they would see it again. When the city was finally out of sight, they urged on their horses, and the greater the distance from the city became, the faster they rode.

  “Now I just want to get home as soon as possible,” Piak remarked.

  Tiuri felt exactly the same way. So they rode quickly, even though they were sometimes hit by a pang of longing for what they agreed was the most beautiful city in the world.

  They spent the first night of their journey home in the open air and the second at the castle of the White Moon. The day after that, they rode through the Hills of the Moon, this time in sunlight. It was already quite late by the time they reached Ingewel, where they returned the horses to the innkeeper at the Inn of the First Night.

  The innkeeper offered them fresh horses to ride to the toll fortress. He seemed to regard them as personal friends of the toll master and important servants of the king.

  This time, there were many villagers gathered at the inn. They were not there for the company, but to discuss the shocking news that had just reached Ingewel. Sir Andomar’s death had, of course, hit them particularly hard.

  Tiuri and Piak listened to their conversations without joining in but, when the innkeeper told his other guests that the two boys had just arrived from the City of Unauwen, they were bombarded with questions. Was it true that the King of Eviellan himself had killed Sir Andomar? And that the lord of Forèstèrra had also been defeated? What was the latest news from the city? Had they seen the king? Had he said there was going to be a war? Was the crown prince really going to challenge his brother to a duel?

  King Unauwen had told Tiuri and Piak that there was no need for them to keep any secrets now. So they answered all of the questions as well as they could but, as if by unspoken agreement, they remained silent about their own role in the events.

  The next morning, when they headed outside, where the innkeeper was waiting with their horses, they saw a small procession of riders approaching along the lakeside. They soon drew level with the inn and the villagers stopped what they were doing and stood at the roadside, bowing respectfully. The first rider was around the same age as Tiuri; his expression was sad and grave, but his bearing was brave and proud. He was dressed in grey, as a sign of mourning, and he carried no weapons. A number of men-at-arms followed him. “Andomar of Ingewel,” said the
innkeeper, when the procession had passed by and was heading to the west.

  “Sir Andomar?” repeated Tiuri, rather surprised.

  “His son,” said the innkeeper. “He shares his father’s name and he also resembles him. He is now on his way to the City of Unauwen. I believe the king will knight him, so a new Sir Andomar will soon be lord of Ingewel. You see, when a man dies, there is always another to take his place.”

  “Always another to take his place,” repeated Tiuri thoughtfully.

  “It’s true, though, isn’t it?” said the innkeeper. “So we must not be too downhearted.”

  As the two friends rode through the Forest of Ingewel once again, they were both silent. The flowers were blossoming just as magnificently as before, as though nothing had changed. I so hope, thought Tiuri, that nothing will happen to destroy this beautiful forest. But then he realized that, even if it did, other flowers would come to take their place. These were strange thoughts, ones that had never occurred to him before…

  After they left the Forest of Ingewel, it was not far to the Rainbow River.

  They rode over the bridge and asked to speak to the toll master. Tiuri had received some money from the king, so that he could pay the toll fee they still owed.

  The toll guards didn’t recognize the friends at first; it was only when Warmin came up and greeted them warmly that the other men realized who they were.

  “I hadn’t expected you back so soon,” said Warmin. “I must announce your arrival to my master.” He led them into the castle. “I know what you were up to now,” Warmin said to them. “You were taking important news to the king. I haven’t heard the details yet, but my master has recently started new training drills with his guards. He says his castle may soon become a real fortress again, as it was hundreds of years ago. My lord’s spirits are low. In the evening, he stands on the bridge and peers down into the water, without saying a word.”