C. Dale Brittain_Wizard of Yurt 02

by The Wood Nymph;the Cranky Saint

  There was a pause, and one of the other apprentices whispered something. "It's the wood nymph, isn't it," said the apprentice who had already spoken.

  "What do you know about the wood nymph?" I asked quickly. But he shook his head without answering.

  "Is there somewhere near here we could stay tonight?" Evrard put in suddenly.

  This seemed to delight the apprentices. All of them stared at us for a second and then began to grin. "Hospitality," said the one who appeared to be their leader. "We've had very little opportunity to practice hospitality, and yet that is a duty of the solitary hermit. You can stay in our huts with us!"

  The stone huts had never looked very appealing, but they had to be better than sleeping in the open. The apprentices lit our way with their torches.

  I thought of saying, "Well done, young wizard," to Evrard but decided I had already sounded like a schoolteacher enough for one day. "Good work," I said instead. "But don't let them see any satisfied smirks if we talk to them about the nymph. We shouldn't shock their chaste sensibilities."

  From the single blanket roll in the corner of the one-roomed hut, I assumed that only one of the apprentices lived here, probably the one who served as leader. Each of them must have his own hut in which to practice living in isolation. It didn't look as though being an apprentice hermit was anywhere near as entertaining as being a student wizard.

  All five of the apprentices crowded in with us. "We need food for our guests," said our host, and two disappeared back out into the night. In a minute they returned with some lettuces, an earthenware jug of goat's milk, and rather stale pieces of bread.

  The wood nymph's raspberries, highly satisfying while we were eating them, now seemed to have made no impact, and we ate hungrily. The dense bread wasn't bad if eaten with enough lettuce, and the goat's milk was better than I had feared.

  The apprentice hermits made a small fire in the middle of the room and sat against the far wall from us, tugging their scraps of clothing around them as the evening air coming through the open doorway became cooler. I wondered where they had come from originally, and, if one of them eventually replaced the hermit at the spring, what would happen to the rest.

  "Have you ever seen the wood nymph?" Evrard asked conversationally, brushing crumbs from his lap.

  The apprentices glanced at and nudged each other for a moment, then one spoke who I thought had not spoken before—although they all looked very similar with their rags and shaved heads. "We've seen her," he said slowly. "Up in the grove. I tried to talk to her once, but it was as though she didn't even hear me."

  Evrard and I gave each other quick, complacent glances.

  "But our master, the hermit, often talks to her," the apprentice continued. Evrard's eyes became round with surprise, and mine may have done the same. "He told us that only wizards can attract the wood nymph's attention, unless she decides she wants to speak with someone anyway. She likes to talk to him. I think— I think our master and the nymph talk about the saint."

  "Saint Eusebius?" I asked, managing not to refer to him as the Cranky Saint.

  "The nymph knew the saint, you see," the apprentice continued in a burst of confidence. "When Eusebius came to this valley fifteen hundred years ago— You did know that the saint was the first hermit at the Holy Grove, didn't you?"

  "Yes, yes," I said. "Go on." Maybe relations between the hermits of the Holy Grove and the wood nymph had been better all these years than I thought.

  "When Saint Eusebius first came to this valley, the wood nymph was already here. I think her presence may at first have—bothered him, but our master has told us that she and the saint became friends and had many long conversations on spiritual issues. She had been a pagan, of course, but he was finally able to convert her to Christianity."

  Evrard frowned at me. My first thought was to find this highly unlikely, but then it occurred to me that, since I had no clear recollection myself of what Evrard and I had discussed with the nymph a very short time ago, someone else might decide after an afternoon with her that they had conversed on spiritual issues.

  "Why does the hermit want to talk to her about the saint?" I asked. I was quite sure he had said nothing of this to Joachim.

  The apprentices gave each other troubled frowns. "Maybe we shouldn't have said anything."

  "No, no," I said reassuringly. "I'm sure it's all for the best that you brought it up. My friend the royal chaplain specifically asked me to try to find out more about the wood nymph. Why does your master talk to her about the saint?"

  "He told me—" started one of the other apprentices uneasily. "He told me he needs her help! Saint Eusebius sometimes, well, acts troublesome, and since she knew him when he was still alive, our master has hoped . . ."

  He trailed off without finishing. If the old hermit felt this was an unsuitable topic to mention to the bishop's representative, then his apprentices must have begun worrying that it could be a further reason to take their master away from them. It was rather ironic that these young men, dedicated to austere Christianity, thought it safe to express their fears to a couple of wizards, just because they knew we ourselves had no prim and fixed ideas about what was or wasn't suitable behavior.

  But in my attempt to assure them that I was Joachim's friend, I may have started them wondering again if they should have spoken at all. "Let's be clear and open with each other," I said. "Neither I nor the royal chaplain thinks the old hermit should leave the grove, unless for some reason he decides to leave himself. But the chaplain is very concerned that the old hermit not be distracted from his prayer and contemplation."

  "No! No! Not at all! He's not distracted at all! He's a very holy hermit!" cried all the apprentice hermits together. "The wood nymph only comes to speak to him when he wants her to," added the one I assumed was the leader.

  Joachim, I thought, might have trouble explaining this to the bishop, but if true it certainly freed me from any responsibility of moving the nymph out of the grove.

  "What have the hermit and the nymph decided about the Cranky Saint?" put in Evrard.

  If they heard his flippant tone, they didn't respond to it. Instead they all shook their heads. "He doesn't tell us about their conversations. I think he believes we are not spiritually ready." Evrard shot me what I was afraid was a smirk, but I was able to ignore him.

  "Have your master and the wood nymph discussed those entrepreneurs at the top of the cliff?" I asked.

  To my surprise, this question made them fall silent as our other questions had not. "We don't really know," said an apprentice at last.

  They must be afraid, I decided, that if a chaplain had come to accuse their master of consorting with a nymph, then two wizards must be here to accuse him of trying to make a quick profit. Before I could try to reassure them again, they all stood up hastily, and their leader snatched up his blankets from the corner.

  "We'll let you have this hut to yourselves," he said. "Thank you again for accepting our hospitality, and God bless you. Good night!" All five rushed out, leaving Evrard and me looking at each other.

  "Let's get the horse blankets," he said. "At first when they started talking about their master having long discussions with the nymph, I was able to imagine all sorts of intriguing scenes, but I'm afraid it must in fact have been very dull and pure—if one could imagine the nymph being dull! I'm glad I never had any foolish ideas about studying to be a hermit. Can you imagine what my hair would look like as shaved red stubble?"

  "Peach fuzz," I said. "On a particularly unappetizing peach."

  There was no door to the hut, but we settled down close to the opposite wall. The small fire in the middle of the room had burned down to darkly glowing coals.

  "It sounds as though making money off pilgrims as you lower them down the cliff," Evrard said thoughtfully, "may be shocking to religious sensibilities, as well as of course extremely dangerous."

  He fell silent for several minutes, and I had thought he had fallen asleep, when he sudden
ly rolled over with a great rustling of his blanket. "Daimbert, how did you manage to get involved in all this in the first place? What does a wizard have to do with chaplains and bishops and hermits?"

  "In the school," I said lightly, "they teach us about the super­ natural power of demons, and warn us against using black magic. Doesn't it make sense for a wizard to try the other side, to learn how to trick the supernatural power of good into helping us?"

  But Evrard, for once, was not willing to be dismissed with a joke. "But how about you?" he demanded. "How did you become involved in the affairs of a Cranky Saint?"

  "I sometimes wonder the same thing," I said slowly. Although he was only a foot or so away, I could sense him more than see him. "Yurt is important to me. If there are problems in the kingdom, no matter what kind of problems, I want to see what I can do about them. You've only been here a couple of days, but you'll see."

  "So you've dedicated yourself, heart and soul, to this little kingdom?" His voice wasn't exactly scornful, but it was close.

  I hesitated a long moment before answering. The royal court, I was sure, would find this a riveting conversation. "No," I said at last. "Not heart and soul. The only thing I belong to heart and soul is magic itself—and maybe not even that, because if I did I'd probably be better at wizardry than I am. But freedom is useless unless it gives you the opportunity to choose, and I've chosen to try to help my friends in Yurt."

  "But why these people?"

  "Because I love them."

  Evrard did not respond at once, and after a moment's silence I rather hoped he would not. But then a coal settled with a hiss, sending up a brief shower of golden sparks, and with the silence between us broken Evrard, irrepressible, spoke again. "But how did you, a wizard, ever become such good friends with a chaplain?"

  "Joachim saved my life."

  "He did? When was this?"

  "The first year I came to Yurt. I had an encounter with the other supernatural powers."

  "Oh, Daimbert, I'm sorry!" said Evrard, at once highly contrite. "I didn't know. But you hadn't said anything about it, and I never heard anybody mention it at the school."

  "They wouldn't have."

  When the resulting pause seemed highly strained, I added, "I do hope you realize I have not become a pawn of organized religion. When I heard the duchess had hired you, I was delighted at the thought of having a wizard to talk to, someone whom I thought I would be able to under­ stand better than I could any priest, and who might even understand me."

  Silence fell again. Evrard did settle down at last and began to breathe deeply—doubtless dreaming of the wood nymph. I shifted, trying to find a less hard and bumpy patch of dirt on the hut floor, and pulled the scratchy blanket up around my ears.

  I was drifting off to sleep at last when abruptly I was brought back to full consciousness by a distant, repeated call. It could have been an owl, a real owl, it could have been the horned rabbits, or it could have been something far worse. I lay perfectly still, but heard only Evrard's peaceful breathing and the strangely ominous rustle of leaves. Talking to the wood nymph had removed the terrors of my predecessor's cottage to a comfortable distance, but now they were back again in this dark hut, made worse by the winds of night and the slightly lighter rectangle that marked the open doorway. I listened for a long time, but the call did not come again.

  IV

  We did not wake until well into the morning. I sat up and looked across the hut to see Evrard just opening his eyes. He jumped up at once when he saw the sunlight outside. "It's late. The wood nymph is going to wonder where we are."

  "And the apprentice hermits must be wondering when they'll be able to have their hut back."

  "Do you think their hospitality extends to breakfast?"

  But we didn't see the apprentices when we came out. We checked my net for horned rabbits, but it had caught nothing yet. I renewed the paralysis spell, and Evrard dropped in some fresher herbs.

  "Maybe the nymph will have something today besides berries," he said as we scrambled up beside the little waterfall toward the grove. "A doughnut and a cup of tea would be even nicer."

  "I doubt the nymph does her own baking," I said. "For that matter, I wonder where the apprentices get their food."

  "From the store," said the city-bred Evrard.

  "Not out here," I said with a laugh. "They must grow their own lettuce, and we saw their goats, but I didn't see a bake-oven."

  Evrard suddenly pointed upward. "Who are they?"

  I craned my neck to look. Tiny figures were descending the cliff, a short distance to our right. They seemed to be making their way down by handholds and toeholds. It made me dizzy just to look.

  "Maybe," I said, "the entrepreneurs have their first five pennies at last—or I'd guess even more, if they're charging five apiece."

  "It's going to take them a while to save enough to hire me if they can only manage pilgrims at this rate," said Evrard.

  I didn't like to watch, but I couldn't look away. There were three figures on the rock face, all robed in light gray. They descended slowly but steadily. In a few moments, the first, then the second and third, reached the ground.

  "Maybe they didn't want to go around by the road on foot because it's so much further," said Evrard.

  "Well, they'd certainly reach the valley floor the fastest way possible if they fell off the cliff."

  They walked toward us, and I was able now to see that the three men all had deep cowls pulled over their heads and crosses embroidered on the shoulders of their robes. Pilgrims, I decided.

  They saw us and stopped, apparently surprised to see two wizards in a holy hermit's grove.

  "Bless you, my children," said the pilgrim who appeared to be the oldest. Then all three seemed to forget us completely. "Do you have the bread and the little bottles?" the old pilgrim asked the others.

  "Right here," said another. He pulled from his pocket a large loaf like the one we had eaten last night.

  "Then let us proceed." They walked purposefully toward the shrine at the center of the grove.

  "If the apprentices have to rely on occasional pilgrims for their bread," Evrard commented, "maybe it's just as well we didn't eat any more."

  A gust of wind caught the pilgrims' robes, lifting them and wrapping them around their ankles. One had to stop and untangle his legs, shod in tall riding boots, before proceeding. But I was looking forward to seeing the nymph again and was nearly as uninterested in the pilgrims as they were in us. I glanced up to see pale tiny clouds coming in a thin but steady flock across the slice of blue sky above us.

  Even though we had just been there yester­ day, the wood nymph's tree seemed very difficult to find. I had begun again to wonder if she was deliberately hiding from us, when at last Evrard pointed to a deep footprint in the soft earth. "That's mine. I came down last night faster than I meant to."

  I said again the spell to call the nymph, and a tinkling laugh came from the tree above us. We caught a glimpse of violet eyes and a beckoning hand.

  But when we started flying up toward her, the nymph darted away, leaping lightly through the air, catching branches just in time to break her fall, swinging through the canopy of the grove. Evrard and I flew after her, almost catching her a dozen times. But every time, laughing and with her hair swirling around her, she dodged or spun away at the last second. Much less agile among the branches than she was, we kept getting leaves in the face just when we thought we had cornered her at last. But finally she returned to her platform, and all of us dropped to the cushions, panting and laughing.

  This morning she had strawberries and the same icy, invigorating water she had offered us the day before. Evrard did not mention that he would have preferred tea and doughnuts. "Were you two sleepy­ heads this morning?" she asked, which made me look suspiciously at my cup, wondering if she had put something in it.

  But I did not ask, deciding instead to find out at once what she knew about the Cranky Saint. She might have some idea w
hy Eusebius wanted to leave. Although I remembered scarcely any of our conversation of yester­ day, I did remember the beginning. The sensation was that most of the rest had taken place years ago and had comfortably faded.

  "Lady, I want to ask you something," I said, putting down my cup almost full, though I was thirsty. She bent gracefully to offer me more berries. "Do you speak to the hermit of this grove and to Saint Eusebius?"

  She looked away, out across the tops of the trees, and an expression passed across her face that might have been a frown. Evrard lifted his eyebrows at me questioningly, but I shook my head at him.

  The wood nymph looked back at us again, not quite smiling. "The hermit and I speak of mortality and of God."

  I opened my mouth to speak and changed my mind. But she took my silence itself as a response.

  "Yes, I have wondered sometimes," she said slowly, "what it would be like to be mortal. You humans are born and live for a period, trying to create something in this world to match your dreams, seeking to achieve something you never quite reach. And when you become old and weary you die. But then, the hermit has told me, you come face to face with God."

  Joachim, I thought, ought to hear this.

  "You live for such a short period of time," she added, "that your goals and dreams can never all be fulfilled. Does facing God make up for this?"

  I didn't know what answer to give, but fortunately she didn't seem to expect one.

  "I don't think I was ever born," she went on, so softly that I had to bend toward her to hear. "The world has changed, and I have changed, but I do know I was here long before any humans first came to the valley." Her head drooped forward, and her long hair almost hid her features. "I have lived here in the grove forever, or at least as long as I can remember. The trees are mine to tend, but even they always grow old and die eventually, in spite of my care. They take the only way that leads out of the ever-repeating cycle of life here on earth, but that way out is closed to me."