Gaal the Conqueror

by John White

  "Surely Gaal knows where we are," she continued. "I'm sure he must know how we feel. If we decided to go back I think he'd let us."

  "Go back? Go back where?"

  "To Canada."

  John sighed. His thoughts were suddenly far away. "I bet my dad's still on the ice."

  But Eleanor's mind was still on Gaal. "He brought us here. I'm sure he'd let us go back if we asked him. He's not mean or anything. Don't you think that we could just shout out for help-that he could hear us-sort of by magic? And then we could go home."

  John's thoughts were focused on a picture of Black Sturgeon Lake on a frozen winter night. "I wonder how long he's been waiting-my dad, I mean. Boy, would I ever like to have him here now." He paused and drew in a breath. "You know, I shouldn't have said that. I don't really want him to come. You see he'd die if he came here."

  It was the wrong thing to say. Eleanor began to weep softly. "This is a hideous place. It's so dangerous. I mean back in Canada even when my dad-I mean, I could run-usually. Here you never know what the danger is. Oh, John, let's not go down there."

  They stared below them. Steps had been cut in the rock, zigzagging like the steps down a Chinese mountain. Beauty flowed up from the beds where flowers of every season and climate seemed to bloom at the same time-hydrangeas, daffodils, hyacinths, fuchsias, amaryllis, lilies, roses, chrysanthemums, begonias, hollyhocks, delphiniums, geraniums and a hundred others, along with jacaranda trees, poinsettias, bougainvillaeas and other plants the children had never seen, all in a riotous, incongruous but magnificent blaze of color.

  John took one of Eleanor's hands in his. "It's all right," he said. "It's going to turn out O.K Gaal wouldn't send us on a trip like this if he thought we were going make a mess of it."

  They must have sat for several minutes without moving. At last Eleanor rose slowly to her feet, stared fixedly at the garden, and said. "I'm sorry. You were right-I mean what you said about real courage. I was going to insist we go back. But there's really no place to go to, and I sure don't want to be with my dad right now. I shouldn't have talked like that. I guess it was the shock of seeing the garden-it just flooded over me sudden ly. Why don't you lead the way-slowly. If I see anything I don't like I may still run!"

  Once down in the garden they could walk side by side. "You know that was courage," John said.

  Eleanor dropped her eyes. Her face was still tear-stained but a tremulous smile played on her mouth and a blush stole into her cheeks. "How do you mean?"

  "You. You coming down here even though you were terrified."

  With slight nervousness Eleanor said, "Oh, I don't know. I figured you were going to come this way anyway-so what the heck!"

  "All the same, it took guts."

  "Thanks. But you were right. I mustn't let my fears rule me. Courage is going ahead even when I'm scared." She paused and took a deep breath. "You know, I've really only just noticed how beautiful this garden is."

  "You mean you didn't see it before?"

  Eleanor shook her head. "Or at least, only for a fraction of a second. Then panic hit." She laughed self-consciously. "I'd love to pick a bunch of flowers," Eleanor said.

  "Well," John replied, "don't forget Shagah. We're in an enchanted garden in an enchanted forest. So far we don't know what or where the danger is. It could be in the flowers themselves. So I'd stay away from them."

  For a while they walked in silence, marveling at the beautiful arrangements of trees, flowers, intriguing rocky shapes and statues. John wondered if one of the statues would come to life, but said nothing so as not to alarm Eleanor. But a moment later she stopped in front of a little ornamental tree bearing red roses.

  "I'm going to pick one," she said, her voice still shaking a little.

  John was about to warn her again, but he was still worried about wakening Eleanor's fears, so he changed his tack "You know, it looks so perfect as it is. Why not leave it? You'll spoil it if you pluck some."

  But it almost seemed as though Eleanor had read his mind. "I'm not going to let my fears rule me. Sure, I'm nervous. But I can't let my feelings paralyze my whole life. I've got to face things!" Her eyes were shining and she was breathing fast as she reached forward with trembling fingers to pluck at a rose stem. But the rose stem was woody and resisted plucking. "Oh, oh!" she muttered pulling back her hand and sucking her finger. "Those thorns are sharp. Lend me your sword."

  "Look, I really don't think-"

  "Please, John, I'll only take one."

  "But, Eleanor-"

  "Please, John. Please!" her eyes implored. John had already been tugging at his sword, but it resisted his efforts.

  "It seems to be stuck," he said, frowning. "In any case-"

  "Here, let me try!" Eleanor seized the hilt of the sword and pulled with John. But after several attempts they both desisted, for it was clear that the sword could not be shifted. Eleanor's face was flushed. "I'm going to get it, even if I have to tear my hands to pieces in the process!" she muttered fiercely, and suiting her actions to her words she began to struggle once again with the stem of the rose she had first tackled, bending the stalk this way and that in an effort to break it.

  John watched her uneasily. He felt something was wrong with her battle with fear, but he could not put his finger on what it was. Eventually Eleanor was successful, though the rose (which was now pitifully battered) seemed hardly worth the scratched and bleeding hands it had cost her. She stared at it a moment and then tossed it aside in disgust. "Well, at least I didn't give way to fear. Let's get going!"

  Uneasily John followed her as she pushed forward toward the narrow area that separated the sections, where the cliffs on either side came close together. In the next circle lawns surrounded a beautiful pool, beyond which lay a shallow rocky basin into which a waterfall fell sheer from an opening in the rocks above. From there the water flowed gently into the main pool, where gentle islands of yellow water lilies clustered lovingly.

  The path followed the edge of the pool round to where steps ascended to the rocky basin. While they had been moving toward it the gentle thunder of the waterfall had formed a sort of background music, adding to the charm of the garden. But as they ascended the steps, the sound suddenly ceased. When they looked up, they saw only the wet and glistening face of the rock behind it, and just behind the point where the waterfall had reached the rocky basin, a statue.

  The statue reminded John of women he'd seen on Greek vases in museums. It was of a Greek woman, her hair in the same style as the vases, and wearing a robe sustained by a broach above her left shoulder. And as they stared at it the statue came to life. The hair turned to a rich brown, the skin a blushing olive, and when the eyes opened they were warm and dark. A smile lit up the woman's features. "Thank you for wakening me," she said, staring at Eleanor.

  Eleanor said nothing, but her face bore the sort of expression that says, "It's nice to meet you, but I think you must have mistaken me for someone else."

  "Yes, dear. It is to you I owe thanks," she said, still smiling at Eleanor. "Your courage has given me life. And for you I have a reward-a reward that will serve as a badge of courage. You overcame your fears, didn't you?"

  "Well, yes, but I don't understa-"

  "And in spite of your fears you plucked a flower, didn't you?"

  "I-I-well, yes, I did. You see I knew if I let my life be controlled by fear I, er, but I didn't mean to do any damage to the garden. I hope I've not-"

  "Of course not, my dear. That is exactly what I hoped you would do. Now, just look at these!" She dipped her hand inside her dress and pulled out an array of jewelry that sparkled in the sun, flinging a million dancing colors at them. There was a coronet, a necklace and two arm bands. "Come," she said, "They're yours. The flowers you wear have faded. Each of these stones is cut in the shape of a woodland flower. But they are flowers that will never fade."

  Eleanor stared, wide-eyed. "Who are you?"

  "I am a servant of Faunus. Now come. Accept what I offer."


  "Oh, really-I couldn't!" Eleanor protested. "I mean they're real jewels. It wouldn't be right."

  "My dear child, they belong to you. They're yours by right. They have been waiting here since the dawn of time for their true owner-the girl who would fight her own fears, conquer them and waken me. It was so ordained. Fling away the flowers that adorn you, and come!" She held them out to Eleanor.

  John seized her arm. "Don't listen to her! It's a trap. Once you take them we'll be in that cage again." Then addressing the woman, "How do we know you're not just fooling us?"

  The woman ignored him. Her glance was still on Eleanor, and she laughed merrily. "He is seeking to arouse your fears, dear. And neither he nor anyone else will ever be able to do so again. You have conquered. Come and claim the reward!"

  Afterward John blamed himself for not hanging on to her, but who knows whether he could have? Eleanor did not wait for more but stepped into the shallow water in the basin of rock. Before he could stop her she had waded across to take the glittering jewels from the lady's hand.

  Instantly the garden vanished. The basin, the Greek lady, the gleaming face of the wet rock-all were gone. They were standing once again in the forest beside the stream.

  John was both scared and angry. "So that's what the enchantment was all aboutl Now we know."

  "Aren't they beautiful?" Eleanor said, unable to take her eyes from the jewels. "Look, each one is in the shape of a flower!"

  "Eleanor! Eleanor, listen! You don't seem to realize-"

  "Oh, but I do! They must be worth a fortune. When I get back my dad will-" She placed the coronet carefully on her head, throwing aside the faded flowers.

  "Eleanor, don't you see? It was Shagah again. I know we didn't see him, but we didn't see him at the pool, or in the wood the night the trees nearly got us. It was Shagah-"

  "She said she was a servant of Faunus. Hm! Servant of Faunus. Who's Faunus, I wonder? You know I used to dream about being a princess. I never thought that one day.. ..... She paused to adjust the necklace. Her back was turned to John, so she never saw his open-mouthed shock.

  "We're in danger, Eleanor. You shouldn't have done it! You fell for the enchantment. It probably began with picking the rose."

  "Here, help me with these bracelets. I can't fasten this one with my left hand."

  John stood in front of her. With a great effort he controlled his feelings. Waiting until she looked up at him, he said, "Take them off, Eleanor. It's enchantment. We-you fell for it. The very thing you were scared of has happened."

  She smiled happily. "Don't be silly. Here, help me with this bracelet."

  "Eleanor, don't you see? They fooled us. It's more of Shagah's work. It's dangerous."

  Eleanor continued to look at him steadily. Quietly she thrust the bracelets into a pocket in the front of her dress. To John she seemed transformed, not so much by the jewels as by a new selfpossession that he had not seen even in her best moments. She said, "You're scared, aren't you? I can see it." Her voice softened. "That's how I was only a few minutes ago."

  "I'm not scared, Eleanor, I'm, I'm-well perhaps I am a bit. But some fear is good. You were right when you said this place is dangerous."

  "I'm never going to be afraid again."

  "No, I know but-but all the same, enchantment is enchantment and-"

  "What enchantment? There is no enchantment, don't you see?"

  Eleanor had turned and was walking along the path, so that he was obliged to follow her, and since the path was narrow just there, he found himself talking to the back of her head. "You know yourself what happened at the pool and at the tower," he continued. She was striding ahead merrily, and he had to hurry to keep up with her.

  "Yes, but what happened this time?" she asked, without turning. "This is more like Gaal, rescuing us. It's good, John. It even feels good!"

  "All the same-" His voice trailed into silence. He began to have doubts about whether he was right or not. Eleanor was not behaving as she had done when they were in the cage together. This was a new Eleanor, relaxed and sure. of herself. For a few moments they walked on in silence, Eleanor striding ahead almost as though she had new. legs as well as new jewels. But John perpetually frowned and stared at the path that seemed to flow backward beneath his striding feet.

  His replies to her became monosyllabic. He had felt good about encouraging her in the garden, when she was afraid. Now he felt useless. The farther they walked, the more confused and depressed he grew. How could the incident with the living statue be anything but evil? Yet on the other hand, how could it be a bad thing that had happened to Eleanor? Her next words seemed to pick up his thoughts.

  "And now all my fear is gone. I'm not afraid anymore."

  The path, which still followed the eastward course of the descending stream, had widened, and they were now walking beside each other. "I'm glad you're not afraid," he said. "But remember when you wanted to pick the rose the first time?"

  "Yes?"

  "Well, you-what I mean is that it's all right to be afraid, and that it's silly to do something just because you're scared to do it. I'm scared of heights, but I wouldn't jump off a cliff just because I was scared to. Would you?"

  Eleanor laughed. "Of course not. But I might climb the cliff."

  `Just because you were scared?"

  "Sure. Now I would. You must admit it turned out all right."

  "But I still say it's stupid."

  "Why?"

  "Well, in that case you'd spend your life doing everything you were scared of. That's not what life's about."

  Eleanor said nothing for a few moments. Then she said, "I probably won't need to now. It's funny. I kind of feel I'm not going to be scared of anything anymore. I ... I'm different."

  Again there was silence. This time John broke it. "Eleanor, fear can be a good thing as well as a bad thing. I remember that when I was on the lake with my dad, I was scared when I was making up my mind whether to come for you or not. I tried to hide it from him-pretending I was sort of excited. But then it was right to do the thing I was scared of. There are other times when it's wrong, when fear is good."

  Eleanor stopped and they faced each other. She was shaking her head. "Fear is never good," she said. "If you lived at our house and knew-" She drew in a deep breath. "Well, I won't be scared of my dad anymore. Not anymore. I won't ever be scared of him again." She smiled, and John thought once again how very beautiful she was. "I hate him," she said huskily. "I've just realized what the feeling is. It's hate. It's like armor all round me. Fear can't touch me now." Slowly she turned to resume the walk along the pathway.

  After a few moments she said, "I guess I hated him all along, only I never realized it till now. It's funny. It was really Gaal who took my fear of him away, but it's only since all my fear is gone that I know I hate him."

  John said, "I was scared of him myself that night. But we were so worried about you that we didn't have time to think about him. What were you going to do?"

  "I just didn't care what happened anymore. I thought I'd freeze to death."

  "We thought you might have been going to that farm, but your footprints were going toward the middle of the lake."

  Sunlight had broken through the trees, and as Eleanor shook her head she scattered flashes of color from the coronet. "No. I didn't care where I went. I didn't want to see him ever again. I didn't even care if I saw my mother again. She didn't know everything-at least I don't think she did."

  "My dad said she used to get beaten up-"

  "Whenever she tried to protect me. Dad said it was all my fault, and I believed him. In a way I still do. But I'll never be afraid of him again. I'm going to go on hating him instead."

  "What will happen to your mom?"

  "I don't know. Some day I'm going to-oh, what's the use? One thing's for sure. I shall sell these jewels and buy a new house for mom and me."

  That evening they came across a Gaal tree. Eleanor took off her jewels and dropped them at the foot of th
e tree.

  "Whatever are you doing that for?" John asked in astonishment.

  "No one will steal them."

  "Perhaps not. But it's such an odd thing to do."

  A momentary shadow of bewilderment crossed Eleanor's face. "Yes, it is an odd thing to do, isn't it?"

  Then shrugging her shoulders she passed inside the Gaal tree. There was a hot meal waiting for them, a meal which John devoured greedily for they had not eaten all day. Eleanor seemed strangely uncomfortable and ate hardly anything, saying that she was not hungry. They talked very little, and John, who was sleepy after the meal went to bed early.

  He woke in the middle of the night and was instantly wide awake. He thought about Eleanor's odd action in dropping the jewels at the door of the Gaal tree, and of her inability to eat once inside. Slowly his body filled with fear. "Eleanor," he thought. "And Shagah! Oh, Gaal, I wish you were here. Something must have happened to her with those jewels. They must give him some sort of power over her."

  A shaft of moonlight fell across his bed from a window, and he stumbled out of bed toward it, leaning on the windowsill, and wondering as he had done since the very first time he had slept in a Gaal tree how there could be windows through which you looked from the inside of the tree, but none that you could ever see from outside. The stream was fifteen yards away, separated from them by an open grassy area. The same moonlight that stilled and soothed the sleeping trees disturbed John and increased his uneasiness. Why was he worried about Eleanor? Surely she would be sleeping.

  A faint sound of music caught his ear, and he glanced to the right where the trees came right down to the path by the stream. Soon he was able to distinguish singing, and stared at where the path emerged from the trees. The voice was a woman's voice-or a girl's. He could feel the muffled beating of his heart. Then he saw her, emerging not along the path but through the trees themselves, whirling, leaping, dancing, singing. He could hear some of the words now. They beat on his head in their terrifying insanity.