by Tonke Dragt
His four guests climbed the stairs and knocked at the door.
“Let’s go in,” said Bendu when they heard nothing. He did exactly that – and the others followed him.
Then they stopped in their tracks and looked around in surprise. The room was so very different from what they’d seen of the castle so far, not bare and forbidding, but filled with splendour and opulence. There were colourful tapestries on all the walls; soft animal skins on the floor; beautiful, carved furniture; and fine plates and glasses on the table. It was rather dark in the room, as the only light came through the green panes of two narrow windows. As they surveyed the room, a curtain at one end slid aside, and a young woman appeared, with a candle in her hand.
Tiuri held his breath.
Isadoro, the Daughter of Islan, looked just as Red Quibo had described her – a girl like a May rose, with honey-blonde hair and hands as white as snow. She wore her hair loose, and jewels sparkled on the band around her head. Her dress was a pale green, with wide sleeves. She stood motionless for a moment, beautifully silhouetted against the deep purple of the curtain. Then she came to greet them, with a smile on her face. “Welcome,” she said, “to Islan.” Her voice was gentle and melodious.
She put the candle on the table, shook hands with her visitors and gave each of them a kind word of welcome. Then she offered to take their shields and assist them with their helmets, but they said this was not necessary.
Then Evan pulled back a chair for the lady. She sat down and the visitors joined her at the table. Then she enquired where they had come from and where they were going. “I dare not presume,” she added, “that Islan was your actual destination.”
“And yet it is, my lady,” said Bendu.
“If we had known what it was like here and who lived in this place, we would have come far sooner,” said Evan, giving her a meaningful look.
“You, sir, are a knight of Unauwen,” she said. “Why have you come here, from your land on the other side of the Great Mountains?”
“I am a friend of Sir Ristridin,” replied Evan, “and I…”
“A friend of Sir Ristridin?” she said, interrupting him. “But surely you do not seek him here?”
“We know he has been here,” said Bendu.
The lady rose to her feet. “That was months ago,” she said, “but I can still remember it well.” She walked to a window, opened it and leant out. The last light of the sun made her cheeks glow and lent a rosy gleam to her hair. “Winter had come early,” she continued, “and there was snow on the fields. I was standing at the window and I saw him approaching on foot through the snow. He looked like a real knight, tall and proud, even though his green cloak was torn and his face weather-beaten.”
“Ristridin,” said Bendu quietly.
Lady Isadoro stared outside as if she could still see the scene before her. “He blew on his horn,” she continued, “and my father went out to meet him. They spoke for a time.” She turned away from the window and went back to join her guests. “He did not want to enter the castle,” she said. “He was in a hurry and had to travel onwards. He rode to the east, into the Forest of Islan.”
“Rode?” repeated Bendu. “But he was on foot.”
“My father gave him a horse,” said Lady Isadoro quickly.
“Was he alone?” asked Bendu.
“When he arrived here, yes,” she replied, “but not later. Men on horses came after him from the direction of the Wild Wood. I do not know how many – maybe ten, maybe twenty. They waited for him near the castle, and when Ristridin had spoken to my father, they followed him.”
“Do you think it was Arwaut and his men?” said Evan.
“Do you know who they were?” Bendu asked Isadoro.
“What are the colours of Sir Arwaut?” she asked.
“Green and red.”
“One of the riders had a shield of green and red,” she said. “In fact, I think many of them were clothed in green and red. But they did not stay long and did not come inside, but rode swiftly with Sir Ristridin to the east.”
“Did he say nothing about where he was heading?” asked Bendu.
“Or mention where he had been?” said Tiuri. “He came from the Wild Wood and asked my father to send a message to the king and to his brother Arturin. Did you hear nothing of it?”
“Yes, we did hear of it,” replied Bendu. “But that message was brief. Sir Ristridin agreed to meet us this spring at the castle by the Grey River. So far he has not appeared, and so we should like to know more about the plans he had last winter.”
“My father can tell you exactly what Sir Ristridin said to him,” said Isadoro. She paused for a moment before continuing, slowly and somewhat hesitantly: “Although… I think… there was something mysterious about it…”
“Why’s that?” asked Bendu, leaning forward and looking at her. As she moved her head, one of the jewels on her hairband twinkled like a star in the flickering candlelight. “He was in such a hurry,” she said, almost in a whisper, “and he did not say where he was going. I’m sure about that. But there are people who live nearby, close to the Forest of Islan, who saw him going by. I heard from them that he was on his way to the south, but not to Castle Ristridin.”
“So where was he going?” asked Bendu.
“Perhaps none of it is true,” said the lady. “But I heard he was going to Deltaland.”
“Deltaland? Deltaland again!” said Bendu.
“Deltaland,” repeated Isadoro. “Where exactly does that country lie?”
“To the south-east. It shares a border with Eviellan,” replied Tiuri.
“Why would Ristridin go to Deltaland?” asked Bendu.
“I have no way of knowing,” said the lady. “Perhaps I should not have told you, as I do not know if it is true. Sir Ristridin did not mention it to my father and I did not speak to him myself.”
She looked at each of them in turn. Her eyes were like deep pools, sometimes almost black, and then green or blue. “Why are you so worried about Sir Ristridin?”
“We are not worried,” said Bendu. “We just want to know where he is.”
“No, you are worried about him,” said Lady Isadoro calmly. “But Ristridin is a knight of renown. He is sure to return. Are you afraid he might not?” She stared intently at Bendu.
“Oh, no, no,” he replied a little impatiently. “It’s just that…” He fell silent.
“Sir Kraton also mentioned Deltaland,” mumbled Evan.
“And who,” asked the lady, “is Sir Kraton?”
“A gentleman from Eviellan,” replied Bendu, “and therefore not to be trusted.”
“Not to be trusted,” said the lady. “Because he comes from Eviellan?”
“Of course,” said Bendu.
“I know little about all those lands so far from here,” she said apologetically. “I should like to hear more about them, but we are so isolated here and hardly anyone ever passes this way. That is why I am so delighted by your visit.” She stood up. “But I am neglecting my duty as your hostess!” she continued. “I have not offered you anything to eat or drink, or asked if you would like to rest. Let me show you to your rooms, so that you may remove the dust of your journey. And in the meantime I will have some food brought to the table.”
She took the candle and led them to the guest quarters. The rooms were just as beautifully and opulently furnished as the hall they had left. There was a small room for Bendu and a larger one for Evan, Tiuri and Piak to share. “I’ll see you soon, when we dine,” said the lady as she left them.
Piak looked at the huge four-poster beds and carefully stroked the velvet curtains.
Evan sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs and sighed. “It is a long time since the tumult of the fray felt so far away,” he said.
Evan had fought in a battle only recently. He had said little about it and Tiuri wondered now what memories he had of that experience. He looked at the calm face of the young knight. How would it feel if your country we
re at war, if you had to set out to kill or be killed? Tiuri would have liked to know, but he didn’t dare ask. Evan didn’t seem the type who would enjoy talking about it, and now was certainly not the right moment.
“She’s like a fairy of the forest,” the young knight continued.
“Who? Lady Isadoro?” asked Piak.
“Who else?” said Evan. “I say ‘fairy’, because she hardly seems real. Fairies can just suddenly disappear into thin air, you know.”
“I think she’s real enough,” said Piak. “But she’s very beautiful, I’ll give you that.”
Evan laughed. “You seem almost reluctant to say so,” he said.
“Well, um… I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Piak. “But I think Lady Lavinia is at least as beautiful as Isadoro. Don’t you, Tiuri?”
To his annoyance, Tiuri could feel himself blushing. He tried to hide his face from Evan. “Yes,” he replied reluctantly. “But she’s completely different.”
“Lavinia?” asked Evan.
“Yes! Lavinia!” said Piak indignantly. “The young lady of Castle Mistrinaut. You surely must remember her, Sir Evan.”
Tiuri agreed with him. How could anyone forget Lavinia?
But, when he was looking at Lady Isadoro, Tiuri hadn’t given much thought to Lavinia himself.
They ate in the company of Sir Fitil and his daughter; the other residents of the castle apparently ate elsewhere. “I am sorry I have nothing more to tell you about Sir Ristridin,” said Sir Fitil. “I can only repeat his message to you. Give me a moment to think and I might remember it word for word. He was most insistent that I passed on his exact words, you see.”
He moved his eyebrows as he slowly recited: “From Sir Ristridin to King Dagonaut, with respectful greetings. No dangers found in the Wild Wood . All the paths are dead ends or lead to ruins of towns and villages that were abandoned long ago. So, in winter, I shall travel to other places, where there is more for a knight to do.” Then he looked at them and added, “The same message went to Sir Arturin.”
“And that’s all?” asked Bendu.
“That’s all,” said Sir Fitil. “Your friend appeared to be safe and sound. He was in the company of a group of riders in green and red. They came along later and rode with him.”
“To Deltaland?” asked Bendu.
Sir Fitil raised his eyebrows. “Where did you get that idea?” he said.
“I told them, Father,” Lady Isadoro interjected in a quiet voice. “That’s what some people said.”
“Ah, people say so many things,” said Sir Fitil. He looked at Bendu. “Now you know as much as we do,” he said. “That really is everything.”
“Tomorrow I should like to ride along the road that Ristridin took,” said Bendu thoughtfully. “To the east. Perhaps that will give me some clue.”
“Yes, you must do that!” said the Lord of Islan cheerfully. “And I shall go with you.”
Tiuri said, “Let’s start our ride at the Wild Wood, where he came from.”
“That’s too far for one day,” said Sir Fitil. “Besides, what can the wood tell us? There’s not a soul living there, and Ristridin left because nothing was happening.”
“I hear you have often been into the wood,” said Tiuri.
Sir Fitil filled his plate again. “In the past, yes, when I was young,” he replied. “I took pride in wandering through the forest without going astray.”
“So you never got lost?” asked Piak.
The Lord of Islan twitched his eyebrows again – it seemed to be something of a habit. “Oh, very occasionally,” he said. “But I never found anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes I’d startle a young bear or come across a wild boar – nothing more dangerous than that. That’s why I never understood what Sir Ristridin thought he might find there. He really should have asked my advice before going into the wood.”
“It was on the king’s orders,” Bendu said sternly. “And Sir Ristridin and my nephew Arwaut found and routed a band of robbers to the north of the Black River.”
“Oh, yes, there,” said Sir Fitil. “But that’s not so unusual. I was afraid Sir Ristridin might be looking for gnomes!” He laughed his loud laugh and then turned his attention to the food.
“Do not jest about such matters, Father,” said Lady Isadoro, shivering. “I am afraid of the Wild Wood. It is so dark and lonely – truly a place where the Little Folk might dwell.”
“As far as I am concerned, they may keep it,” said Bendu scornfully.
Soon after that, Sir Fitil looked around the table. “Have you finished eating?” he cried. “Am I to assume you’ve had enough?”
“Most certainly!” said Piak.
“Then let us end our meal,” said the lord of the castle, “and retire to the Round Chamber. It is actually my daughter’s domain, but it’s cosy and that’s where she keeps her harp. Perhaps, Isadoro, you would like to play and sing something for our guests.”
In the Round Chamber many long white candles burned in tall brass candlesticks.
Lady Isadoro sat by her harp. Behind her was a tapestry, with intertwining flowers and plants, in ochre and azure, emerald and rose red. The four guests sat around her. Sir Fitil took a seat in the background, with the dogs at his feet.
The lady ran her hands over the strings; they were pale and white with slim, pointed fingers. Her hair gleamed like gold. As he looked at her, Tiuri tried to picture Lavinia’s black plaits, but he did not find it easy.
“Shall I sing?” said Isadoro, a little shyly.
Lavinia had sung as well, but she had not played the harp. The sound was like the pattering of raindrops or the babbling of a brook.
Tiuri felt a strange lethargy taking hold of him. All he could see was the lady and the images that her song brought into his mind.
Isadoro sang:
I heard tell of a city of stone,
that stood by rivers wide.
That once was so, but is no more,
for there, by riverside,
there now stand only trees.
Dreams, schemes… Who may go near?
“Do you really want to sing that song now, Isa?” asked Sir Fitil, knitting his nimble eyebrows. “It’s far too long and dreary.”
The lady shook back her hair. “Would you like something else?” she said, sounding a little hurt. “That’s fine.”
She waited for a moment, and then strummed the harp and began again, this time playing very light and fast:
A young knight wandered far and wide
through valleys, over mountainside.
‘Whither goest thou, knight so good?
To the field or to the wood?
The bright field or the darkest wood?’
A young knight wandered wide and far
by light of sun and light of star
his hair gleamed like the purest gold.
‘Whither goest thou, knight so bold?
To the wood or to the wold?’
‘Let me wander, let me roam.
My journey takes me far from home,
I shall guard my honour as I should, –
in the field or in the wood,
The bright…’
Sir Fitil pushed back his chair. “Why choose that song?” he said, interrupting his daughter. “Of all the songs you know?!”
“But it’s about you!” said Isadoro.
“Exactly!” grumbled Sir Fitil. “And such an old song is better forgotten. I’m not the sort of man to sing songs about.”
Tiuri stared in surprise at the stout man in his chair piled high with cushions, at the wrinkles on his forehead, at his thinning hair. And yet he had once been that wandering knight, young and blond like Evan. He turned his gaze to the lady again, who was looking at her father, a wry smile on her lips.
“Then you must tell me what I should sing,” she said calmly.
“Any song you like,” said Sir Fitil, peering down at his feet. “But, please, not that one.”
The lady bowed her head
and played again. She sang a number of songs, but the atmosphere of enchantment was gone and soon the guests retired to bed.
3 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILD WOOD
Tiuri awoke early. He got out of bed quietly and began to get dressed. Piak opened one eye and asked sleepily, “Is it time to get up?”
“I’m ready,” said Tiuri, “but you can stay in bed for a bit longer if you like.”
“I had such a strange dream,” mumbled Piak. “About Sir Bendu and little men in green and…”
“About what?” came Evan’s voice, sitting up in bed.
“Sssh!” said Piak. “No, too late! I’ve forgotten.”
Tiuri left the room. It really was very early and he saw no one about. Bendu was apparently still asleep, and there was no sign of Sir Fitil and his daughter. And yet people were awake in the castle, as he could hear footsteps and the murmur of voices.
He walked around until he found himself in the gallery, where he stopped and looked down into the hall, with his elbow resting on the wooden balustrade. Two servants were busily sweeping the room.
“The master was up before the sun this morning,” said one of them. “That doesn’t happen very often!”
The other man laughed. “You’re right. He usually prefers to stay beneath his covers,” he said.
Then they spotted Tiuri and looked guilty.
A moment later, the lord of the castle himself came into the hall, his hair tousled and his cheeks bright red. As always, his dogs ran alongside him. He spotted Tiuri immediately. “Good morning!” he called cheerily. “And I really do mean that. This is most certainly a good morning. Marvellous weather for a ride! I’ve just come from the stables. What a fine horse you have, Sir Tiuri. Not the friendliest of creatures, though. It barely allowed me anywhere near.”
“Oh, Ardanwen won’t harm you,” said Tiuri. “It’s just that he obeys only one master.”
“And that’s you!” said Sir Fitil. “Oh, I love fiery horses. That gives me an idea – perhaps we should hold a tourney tomorrow.” He waved at Tiuri and went on his way.