by K. C. Herbel
“It was the look on its face that worried me.”
They both laughed. Each time they managed to stop, one or the other would start laughing, and they would start all over again. Billy laughed so hard that he fell down and rolled on the ground.
This put Lady Myrredith into stitches. She held her side and tried to regain some composure. Between laughter and breaths she tried to speak. Finally she managed to say something. “Oh stop it, Rory, you really are . . . are . . .”
The lady’s laughter had stopped, and her voice fell silent. She reached out and leaned against a small dark stone that protruded from the nearby tower wall. The stone door began to close. Billy managed to sit up and watch as the door shut with a soft thud. Again, with the secret passage closed, Billy could not see where the stones of the door began and the wall ended. Billy had never in his whole life seen anything like it.
“How did you do that?” asked the young juggler.
There was only silence from the lady. Billy stopped his close inspection of the wall and looked into her face. She held her eyes closed tight, and her brow scrunched together. The tower seemed to be the only thing holding her up. Billy watched her, waiting for a sign. He was very close now and could see every detail, every line of her face. The lines made her look oddly old. Billy could tell that some of the lines were from happy times, but there were still many more sad and worrisome lines—each one with its story to tell. He wondered why he had never noticed them. Perhaps they had never been so deep as they were that moment.
“What is it?” asked Billy.
Lady Myrredith pursed her lips together and opened her eyes. Immediately her face changed back to its usual calm beauty, with just a whisper of the storytelling lines. She smiled a half smile for Billy, but Billy felt strangely saddened. He knew that he would never look upon her pretty, kindly face again without seeing something of those melancholy lines.
“Do not be concerned, my friend,” said Lady Myrredith looking out over the wall. “It is just an old flower I carry around in my heart. It’s old and faded. I should have found a way to lay it down by now. I guess I just like holding on to it.”
Billy watched her for a moment. Her eyes were wandering on some distant place. Shortly she turned and focused on Billy. Again she smiled, but this time it was a comforting, unforced smile.
“You remind me so much of him,” she said at last.
“Of who?” Billy asked.
“My brother.”
“Your brother?”
Lady Myrredith reached out a hand and helped Billy to his feet. She held his hand and walked to the edge of the great castle’s wall. It was a glorious day. The sun shone warmly on their faces, and a soft wind flowed over the wall. It tugged at Lady Myrredith’s long wavy hair, forcing her to brush the locks from her face as she spoke.
“Yes . . . My brother and I used to do everything together. In fact the last time I used that secret passage, it was with him. I don’t know why I decided to show it to you. I guess I . . . Well, you’re so much alike—always dreaming of rescuing damsels from dragons and all. You even have his eyes.”
The lady stared quizzically into Billy’s eyes, and then suddenly her eyes were drawn away. She looked out over the ramparts and pointed into the wind. “Look,” she said. “You can see the top of the cathedral from here!”
Billy hopped up on the crenel in the wall and scanned in the direction she indicated. Lady Myrredith looped her arm around him and pulled him close to her. He sighted down her arm to where she pointed. Just over the farthest hill he saw numerous threads of smoke, and in their midst, a sharply pointed roof with shiny dark tiles.
“Is that the city?” he asked.
“Yes, William. That is Dyven.”
“When do we go there?”
“In time, William. In time.”
“But when?”
“In a couple of days. I think it will still be there then.”
Billy looked at his smiling hostess and smiled back at her. “Oh, very well. I guess I can wait. I still haven’t seen all of your castle . . . yet.”
“That’s right. Now come down from the wall before you give my heart a fit.”
“Oh, I’m not gonna fall. I’ve climbed on my father’s stable gates hundreds of times, and they’re ever so much narrower than this old wall.”
Lady Myrredith took a wide stance with her hands on her hips. “Just the same, I’d feel much better if you were down here on this part of the old wall with me. If I had to tell your father that I let you fall from the top of my wall, well . . .”
Billy interrupted her. “Where is your brother?”
Lady Myrredith froze, and her face lost its mirthful demeanor again. Billy sat on the crenel as she turned her back to him. He heard her take a deep breath and release it.
“My brother is no longer with us,” she said flatly.
She glanced over her shoulder at Billy, who stared back blankly.
“No. That’s too easy,” she said under her breath. “I mean . . . he’s dead.”
Billy thought the wind must have taken a sudden chill. He wanted to say something to his friend but could think of nothing worthy of the situation.
“He was still just a boy,” she continued. “Father showed the secret passages to me first. I decided that I would in turn show Rory. After all, we had no secrets from each other. He was younger than me, by a few years, but he always insisted on going off on his own.” Lady Myrredith stiffly stepped away from Billy. “One night, he went into one of the passages alone,” she sobbed. “He must have become confused, down there, in the dark. He didn’t know the way as well as I. The servants looked everywhere for him. I was afraid Father would be angry with me for showing Rory the passages, so I didn’t say anything. I went looking for him there by myself. If I had known . . . I finally told my Father, but by then it was too late . . . They found his little hat, at the edge of a bottomless pit, in the catacombs beneath Cyndyn Hall. If only I had . . .”
Billy came down from the wall and walked to the lady’s side. He took her hand in his own and held it to his heart. Without another word she knelt down and embraced him. She held him tight for several minutes. After a moment, she sniffed and quietly spoke into his ear.
“You are the only one I have ever talked to about this,” she told him. Then she pushed away from him and held him at arm’s length. “William,” she said, “You must be very careful in the secret passages. I don’t want you going into any of them without me. Do you understand?”
Billy nodded.
Then Lady Myrredith smiled. “Do you still want to explore the rest of Cyndyn Hall?”
“Yes, if you do,” said Billy, returning her smile.
“Me? There’s nothing I’d like doing more.”
Lady Myrredith wiped her puffy red eyes dry and, taking her young companion by the hand, continued their tour of Cyndyn Hall. They strolled along, Lady Myrredith pointing out interesting features and dropping in a history lesson or two, for good measure, which included, of course, plenty of knights, dragons, giants, and more secret passages.
“And here we are, back at your room,” said the Lady of Cyndyn Hall, opening the thick oak door.
Billy watched as Lady Myrredith entered the dark and gloomy room. Without hesitation she crossed to the far wall and fiddled with some long sashes that hung there. All at once the tapestry in front of her fell away, and bright light shone through the tall stained-glass window that stood behind it. Multicolored light poured into the room, pushing out all but the darkest of corner shadows. There were reds and blues, yellows and greens, all bright and cheerful. Billy, who still stood outside the door, looked in both directions.
“What is it, William?” asked Her Ladyship.
“Well, it’s just that in the light it looks so different. I thought it might be the wrong room.”
“Come in, William!” said Lady Myrredith, with a laugh. “This is your room.” She paused and looked about the room for a moment. “You know this roo
m does look very different in the light. I had forgotten how beautiful this room could be. My great-grandfather had originally thought to make this room a chapel.”
“What happened?”
“The priests protested that putting the only real chapel in the area so near to the lords’ living quarters might scare off the common folk. That’s why he built the chapel off the garden, and then later built the cathedral and abbey in town. After that, he gave this room to his son, and it has since belonged to the heir of Cyndyn Hall.”
“Then this was your room?”
“No. It was my brother’s. After he . . . passed on, my father ordered it sealed. It has remained so, all these years. I only opened it now, for you.”
Billy bit his lip. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It is only what you deserve, my friend, for you have lifted a burden from my heart and made me feel young again.”
In the new lightness of the room, Billy could see everything that he had missed or had been too busy for. The room was not as colorless as he had originally thought. Many of the items that were black the night before were now deep brown or red. The light coming through the colored pieces of glass seemed to add color to everything. It made the pink in Lady Myrredith’s cheek glow soft and warm. It also made a picture on the stone floor and the rugs that covered a good portion of it. In addition, it revealed furnishings that he had failed to see. A small writing table sat in one corner with a chair, and, to Billy’s joy, a suit of armor stood guard just behind it.
“Wow!” he exclaimed and then quickly crossed the floor to examine the dark plate mail.
“It belonged to the first Ruddar,” stated Lady Myrredith.
Billy examined it closely. He took in each scar and scratch as if he were present at the battle that had put them there.
“Touch it, if you like,” said his almost-forgotten companion.
Billy reached out and touched the smooth, cold steel. He caressed it with delicate care, letting his fingers rest momentarily on a rough spot in the breastplate. The room may have come short of being a chapel, but Billy would have never noticed.
“Wow!” he said in a reverent whisper.
Billy let his hand slide back across the buckles and onto the backplate of the suit. His fingers found a large hole there with jagged edges. He instinctively retracted his hand and leaned to the side to see the gaping rent he had felt.
Lady Myrredith said, “He was betrayed by someone he trusted.”
Billy’s face came out from behind the armor abruptly and stared at Lady Myrredith in shock.
Billy’s host shrugged her shoulders. “My father said, ‘one of the problems of being trustworthy, is not always being able to tell who’s worthy of trust.’ Sometimes I think a person would be better off in a band of outlaws you know you can’t trust.”
While the lady was talking, Billy’s eyes strayed to the giant tapestry on the wall behind her. It was different from the others in that its primary color was green instead of red, and it had been woven in a very different style. It depicted a vast lush valley, with people and many strange creatures. The valley seemed somehow familiar to him, but he knew that he had never been anywhere like it. Billy felt oddly drawn to the tapestry and temporarily forgot the suit of armor.
As he silently crossed the floor, Lady Myrredith noticed his queer expression and asked, “What is it, William?”
Billy pointed at the tapestry. “Where’s that?”
Lady Myrredith turned around and stared at the tapestry until Billy was standing next to her. She stepped behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.
“This is a very special tapestry, William. I doubt there is another like it, anywhere in the kingdom. It was a wedding gift to one of my ancestors, who was reputed to have a bit of the fay in her blood. According to legend, her wee relatives were so pleased by her marriage that they wove this especially for her.”
“You mean, faeries made this?”
“It’s supposed to depict the homeland of the little folk,” she said with a smile. “Do you like it?”
“Oh yes!”
“It was Rory’s and my favorite. I just forgot it was here.”
It made Billy very happy to hear Lady Myrredith talk about her brother without the previous faltering.
“The little people have their own kingdom?”
“Why yes! Do you see the great feast over there, near the river?”
Billy looked at the middle of the valley, along the sky blue river, which flowed through its heart. There, on the green banks of the river, a large number of people and creatures gathered. They were celebrating together in a great feast, drinking and eating from a banquet table as large as a barn. All the people were small. Some of them were no larger than the birds they dined with. The detail was astounding. Even Lady Myrredith, who had seen many fine tapestries in her time, seemed amazed at its artistry.
“Yes, I see it,” answered Billy.
“Do you see who’s at the end of the table?” she asked.
Billy looked closer and saw, at the head of the table, a jolly little fellow dressed in purple with a golden crown upon his head. He was drinking from a long curved horn, and in his other hand he held a golden wand.
“That,” she continued, “is the King of all Faerie. The King of Tirn Aill.”
“Is he magical?” asked Billy
“Oh, most certainly,” she replied, “as are all the little people that live there.”
“And the people of . . . Tirn Aill . . . they’re all little people?”
“I think so.”
“Can the king grant wishes?”
“Well, I suppose he can.”
“I wish I could go there,” lamented Billy.
Lady Myrredith rested her chin on Billy’s head. “Me too, William.”
The two of them gazed at the tapestry for a long while. They daydreamed, letting themselves wander the paths of Tirn Aill, a pair of pilgrims. They were abruptly brought back to their senses by a sharp knocking at the door.
“My, this is quite a room!” said Sir Hugh from behind them. They turned to face him, and he added, “So this is where you two have been hiding. It’s nearly time for supper.”
Both Billy and his guide felt a nudge from their stomachs. They had entirely forgotten about supping. Billy’s innards gave an audible complaint about the poor service, but the sight of the King’s Champion was so satisfying that they put aside their hunger to welcome him.
“Hugh!” said Lady Myrredith. “Is it really that late?”
“Sir Hugh!” blurted Billy. “Lady Myrredith showed me all over the castle. Did ya know there were secret passages? Do ya wanna see one? Can I show him, Lady Myrredith?”
“Now, Billy,” said the gentle knight, “I think that Lady Myrredith showed you those secret passages, because she knew you could keep them a secret. You better not tell me, just in case there are spies around.”
Sir Hugh winked at Billy who returned the wink, pretending to lock his mouth with an imaginary key. Billy then handed the key to Lady Myrredith, who graciously accepted it.
“Why thank you, young sir,” she said as she slipped the make-believe key away.
The three companions left the room and traveled down the corridor in the direction of the main hall. The two nobles led the way, walking side by side, with their young friend tagging along behind.
Sir Hugh turned his attention to the lady. “I missed your company terribly at dinner. Sir Aonghas and I had to share it alone with that vagabond singer.”
“How is Don Miguel?” she asked in an annoyed tone.
“Oh, being his usual, tiresome self. Myrredith—I mean, milady—I know I said I would give him a second chance, but you don’t have to put him up for me. I just don’t want you to be taken in by him. He’s not . . .”
“Never fear,” said the lady holding up a hand. “My father warned me, long ago, about traveling minstrels, alchemists, and their ilk.”
“Did he also warn you about wayw
ard knights?” asked Hugh.
“Well, he did tell me that a knight’s best friend was his horse. And that a knight who has recently lost his best friend might fall into the arms of a woman, if he wasn’t careful.”
“A woman?” said Hugh.
“A woman,” continued Lady Myrredith, “with long straight hair, big brown eyes . . . and the snout of a horse!”
“What?” exclaimed Hugh.
“But fear not,” added Lady Myrredith, “I have a solution.”
Hugh smiled and eyed her suspiciously. “Oh really?”
“Just follow me.”
Hugh and Billy followed their hostess out of the main hall and across the large courtyard. As they approached the far side, a boy ran up to the mistress of Cyndyn Hall and bowed.
“Thomas,” said the lady, “would you bring Pomponnel here, please?”
The boy looked at his mistress as if wanting confirmation of her request. Billy saw a marked trepidation in his eyes.
Lady Myrredith also noticed the boy’s hesitation and smiled. “What is it, Thomas?”
“Wouldn’t you rather see Glynda, milady?”
“No, Thomas. Now run along.”
Thomas bowed again and ran around the corner.
“Pomponnel?” asked Hugh curiously.
“Aye,” said Lady Myrredith.
“What manner of name is that?” asked the leery knight.
“A fitting one,” clipped the lady.
“Who is she?” asked Billy.
Lady Myrredith looked at Billy and laughed. “Oh, just someone I think Sir Hugh should meet.”
“A lady friend?” Billy asked.
“Well . . . Pomponnel is hardly a lady, but a friend . . . I hope so!”
Hugh eyed the lady next to him suspiciously. Billy thought he detected some pain hiding under the knight’s expression.
At that moment, Thomas reappeared leading—or rather struggling with—a beautiful silver-grey steed. Its mane and feathery fetlocks moved like glistening black flames over its muscular neck and licked at its thick ashen hooves. The spirited creature reared up and tossed its majestic head, as if the bridle were scornfully offensive.