The Secrets of the Wild Wood, Page 24

  “And I am not so certain of it,” said the Black Knight. “I knew you before I met you at the Low Bridge.”

  Again, doubts began to rise within Tiuri. Was this Prince Iridian, whom he had so admired… or was the Iridian with whom he’d played chess at Castle Ristridin in fact the Black Knight with the Red Shield? How could two such different men look so very much alike?

  “What is your name, my lord?” he managed to say.

  “Master of the Tarnburg is my title, but before that I was Lord of the Seven Castles. I am the Knight in Black, exile, wanderer… You consider me your enemy, but I am not. You do not need to remain a prisoner in my castle! You may be my guest, my friend, if only you will trust me.” The knight fell silent for a moment and asked, “Do you have a suspicion who I am?”

  “You are the prince…” replied Tiuri, his voice trembling a little. “The King of Eviellan.” He began to rise to his feet.

  “Remain seated,” ordered the knight. “I am here incognito. I understand that you have met my… that you have met Prince Iridian.” He leant back in his chair and added, “So now do you understand me better? You did not even know for sure which one of us you were talking to! Do you dare now to make a distinction between us? To follow one of us and to reject the other? Yes, I am the King of Eviellan, but I am also a son of King Unauwen. Forget the discord between Unauwen and Eviellan for a moment and listen to me. I could have killed you, but instead I have talked to you and played chess with you.”

  How can someone with a face like that be evil? thought Tiuri and he whispered, “Why… sire?”

  “You are so young – and it is not your fault that you consider me an enemy,” replied the king. “But as I have already said, I feel only friendship for the knights of King Dagonaut.”

  What about Ristridin? thought Tiuri.

  “I also love my father, King Unauwen,” the prince continued. “Why else would I still wear his ring on my finger? Do you think it was ever my intention to start a war, to bring about death and destruction? Have I not caused Eviellan to flourish and subjugated the cruel lords who live there to my will? And yet I do not feel at home there. I long constantly for my homeland, which I love.” He leant closer to Tiuri.

  “Look at me,” he said, almost whispering, “and tell me I would not look like a paladin of King Unauwen if I were to cross the mountains to the west. Would the people not greet me as their lord, their prince?” He smiled at Tiuri and continued, “And you could ride in my company, a knight on a black horse and with a white shield. You could ride beside me, for you are valiant and could become a great knight…”

  Tiuri moved as if he were trying to shake off a spell. He knew he could not trust the prince and yet, looking at him and listening to him, he could hardly believe that this was the wicked King of Eviellan.

  The king continued to speak, softly, almost pleading, “I shall tell you everything about myself, so that you will know what I am like and what I wish for. I want only to do good, and any evil I have done was only because I was driven to it through no will of my own. I am, like you, a prisoner, and I want to be free. Do you trust me?”

  Tiuri said nothing. To his amazement, he felt the urge to say yes. Now he understood why the King of Eviellan had so many loyal followers.

  “Silence is agreement,” said the prince.

  “That is not true!” whispered Tiuri.

  “But you did not say no… Even Sir Ristridin believed me when I told him that an attack on your kingdom was being planned from Deltaland. It was for my sake that he kept silent about the paths in this wood.”

  Could that really be true? thought Tiuri.

  The King of Eviellan continued, “You are perhaps surprised that I, a king, would take the trouble of talking to you like this. But you deserve to be free! This is no man’s land, and no one will find you here… or even look for you.”

  Was there a threat in his voice now?

  “To be honest,” he continued, “I rather think your friends have abandoned you. Why else did they not accompany you into the wood? But you had the courage to go anyway, a true knight, on your black horse, with your white shield…” and, half to himself, he added, “Just like Sir Edwinem.”

  That name brought Tiuri to his senses. Edwinem of Forèstèrra – he had been murdered, treacherously lured into a trap by a black knight with a red shield, the knight Bendu had been seeking but had not found. How could Tiuri have forgotten that? It was this knight who had committed that infamous deed, the masked Knight with the Red Shield, the King of Eviellan himself!

  “You murdered him!” said Tiuri.

  He was startled by the effect of his words. The man opposite him sat upright. His features twisted and changed and his face became terrifying, wicked!

  Then the king wiped his hand across his brow and the anger melted from his face. But Tiuri knew now he would never be mistaken again. This knight was nothing like Prince Iridian.

  The King of Eviellan looked at him for a long time, with his cold, piercing eyes. Tiuri felt all his courage fading away beneath that gaze.

  “I should not have spoken the name of Edwinem,” the king said. “But it was you who made me do it.”

  “Me? How?” asked Tiuri.

  The King of Eviellan stood up. “I saw him in you,” he said, “as he once was, before the war came. He rode on the black horse Ardanwen, his shield was white, and a peculiar squire followed him wherever he went. In you he could have returned, but this time at my side. I can say that to you now, as it is not going to happen.”

  His voice grew colder and colder.

  “It no longer matters,” he continued. “Sir Edwinem will not return. I killed him; that is true. There will be not one single white shield in my retinue when I cross the mountains along the Road of Ambuscade.”

  To conquer the Kingdom of Unauwen… thought Tiuri.

  The King of Eviellan was wicked, and yet for a moment Tiuri felt some sympathy for him. He would never know happiness, this prince, who killed anyone who stood in his way, who would even destroy the land he wanted to rule.

  Now the king was looking down at him, his face devoid of expression. “Not one single white shield,” he repeated.

  And suddenly Tiuri saw very clearly what his own fate would be. He would have to die, just like Edwinem, like Ilmar and Arwaut. The King of Eviellan knew Tiuri would never follow him… And the land of King Unauwen would be destroyed.

  But that couldn’t happen, could it?! It mustn’t! Evil could surely not be allowed to win?!

  The King of Eviellan leant forward and swept away the pieces that were still on the board. He said nothing, but his gesture said enough.

  I don’t want to die! thought Tiuri.

  He realized that no word, no plea would help him. Was there truly no way out?

  Kneeling down, he hastily gathered up the pieces. He put them back on the board. The third night! he thought. Just give me time until tomorrow night.

  The King of Eviellan turned away from him and walked slowly towards the door.

  Tiuri’s voice stopped him in his tracks. The young knight had stood up and said, in calm and measured tones, “I challenge you, sire, Prince Viridian.”

  And when the king turned around, Tiuri pointed at the black and white board and said, “I challenge you to one last game of chess.”

  The King of Eviellan looked at him coolly and gave no response.

  “A game for life – or death,” Tiuri added.

  8 LIFE OR DEATH

  “Do you think I would tie my fate to the outcome of a game?” said the King of Eviellan. “There are no equal chances in life.”

  Tiuri picked up a black pawn and a white pawn, one in each hand. He closed his fingers around them and took a step forward. “For my life alone, sire,” he said. “You may choose which colour you wish to play with.”

  Luckily, the king did not leave. “For your life… or death?” he said slowly. “Now suddenly you trust me! I could kill you anyway, even if I lose.”


  “I shall have to take my chances,” replied Tiuri, holding out his closed fists.

  The king looked down at Tiuri’s hands. “I have long since dismissed notions such as chivalry and abiding by oaths,” he said. Again he looked at Tiuri. “This game is nothing to me,” he added. “While you, Sir Tiuri, are putting everything at stake.”

  “I know,” said Tiuri. Only later did he realize that the King of Eviellan seemed to be addressing him with more respect now and using his title. They were facing each other as two adults, who knew what they were up against.

  The king appeared to be thinking. “Ah, why not?” he said, with a short laugh. “Your life as our stake, sir knight!” He touched Tiuri’s left fist. “This one,” he said.

  “White!” said Tiuri quietly. Eviellan had drawn white. Was this an ill omen?

  The king also looked rather taken aback. “It would seem our roles are reversed,” he said. “I shall play with white.”

  They both looked at the chessboard, where their two small, motionless armies stood facing each other.

  I have tied my fate to this game, thought Tiuri, rather surprised at how calm he felt.

  The king sat down, and Tiuri followed his example. Then there was silence, broken only by the quiet “tick” of a piece being moved.

  Then there came another sound. The Fool had got up from his bed and come into the room. He stood by the window, watching them play. He did not speak a word, but Tiuri was very aware of his presence.

  I am playing not only for myself, he said in his mind, but also for you, and perhaps for even more.

  He found it reassuring to know that Marius was near – his peculiar squire, as the King of Eviellan had called him. He also realized that meant the king most probably knew nothing of Piak’s existence. And if Piak had escaped, then he would certainly do everything he could to help!

  But Tiuri knew he could not count on that now; he had to concentrate only on the game. This was another duel, and it was even more of a challenge than the previous one.

  He looked at his opponent, who glanced over at the Fool and seemed annoyed by him. Then he stood up and barked, “You have more time than I. We shall continue our battle another day.” And he left the room.

  The Fool went over to Tiuri and said quietly, “You haven’t forgotten, have you, Friend?”

  “What?” asked Tiuri.

  “That we were going to run away? Or do you mean to stay here, between walls, behind bars? He has sat opposite you and talked to you. He has a handsome face, and he is a king… That’s right, isn’t it? But he will not speak to me.”

  “May God forbid that he should ever do so!” said Tiuri, jumping to his feet. “Do not listen to him, Marius! He is dangerous, and more cruel than the Red Riders.”

  “I listened to him,” whispered the Fool, “but I did not understand everything the two of you said. He is Master of the Wild Wood. At first I thought that was another man, but now I see it must be him. Is that not true, Friend?”

  “No, it is not true!” responded Tiuri, feeling something close to anger as he realized that not even the Fool had escaped the King of Eviellan’s influence. “Do you not understand that he is deceitful and that, if I lose this game, he will kill both you and me?”

  The Fool licked his lips nervously and fear came into his eyes. “I understand now, sir knight,” he said. “Now I am glad he did not speak to me. Now I know why I was afraid that the third night was such a long time to wait. That night is tomorrow, but the bars are still in place.”

  They walked together to the window. “It won’t take us any longer than an hour,” said Tiuri, “to remove these two bars.”

  “And then?” whispered the Fool.

  “Then there are still the guards,” replied Tiuri. “But, one way or another, we have to escape tomorrow night.”

  He had an idea. “We could use the bars as weapons,” he whispered.

  Climbing out of the window, with a heavy, iron bar in their hands… jumping onto the guards and taking them out of action… Each of them would have to take on a guard, and Tiuri did not know if the Fool would be able to do that. The chance of one of the guards crying out was high, and it was unlikely that such an escape would succeed. There were soldiers everywhere. And yet it was the only way… unless they heard something from Jaro on the third night.

  There was still the matter of the game of chess, too. When would that be decided? When would his opponent return? On the third night? Then he would have to force the game to a quick conclusion… But what if he were to lose?

  Tiuri lost his calm. “Whatever happens, we need to escape as soon as we see a possibility,” he said to himself. “This game is only a ruse, a stay of execution. Perhaps I shall never finish it, although I should be sorry about that. But I can never fight him as a prisoner, and fight him I must, as long as the Road of Ambuscade runs to the west.”

  The candles had almost burnt down and it looked as if the two armies were advancing across the black and white squares of the board. Tiuri rubbed his eyes.

  “Why don’t you go to sleep?” the Fool asked quietly. “Do not be afraid, Friend. You are a knight, a knight with a beautiful white shield.”

  “A knight!” muttered Tiuri. He sat down and leant his head against the back of the chair. The King of Eviellan had compared him to Edwinem – Edwinem of Forèstèrra, the Invincible, Paladin of King Unauwen! If he knew how very different Tiuri felt! “I am just a pawn,” he whispered, and dreamily he went on:

  I am just a pawn.

  I followed paths

  over fields of white, through woods so dark.

  The earth seems to me

  like a chessboard of ivory.

  North and east and south and west.

  Castles, with towers at the corners.

  Guards standing watch, hear their drums.

  Horses jump from black to white.

  Black horses, white horses.

  Knights ride with white shields.

  Red Riders are on the hunt.

  Two armies face each other:

  battling night and day,

  by light and dark, sun and moon.

  In the midst of each army a king –

  a white one,

  a red one,

  forging plans,

  deliberating –

  moves and countermoves.

  Where shall I go?

  How can I win?

  I look at the stars through iron bars.

  My candle burns dimly,

  and the chessboard gleams.

  How the white shines,

  how the red glows.

  These fields are so narrow yet wide,

  black and white, fields of black and white…

  Dreams, schemes.

  Which way lies my path?

  He did not know if he had thought those words or spoken them out loud. The Fool looked at him quizzically and then blew out the candles. Grey half-light filled the room; dawn was near.

  Tiuri closed his eyes and slept.

  He was awoken by noise. It was completely light now. The Fool was standing at the window again, and he let out a cry. Tiuri leapt up and was beside him in a second. Blinking, he looked outside.

  Men with sticks and whips were running all around, and Red Riders on horseback were shouting loudly. A man lay on the ground, writhing in pain.

  “The black horse!” said the Fool.

  And then Ardanwen came into view, mane flowing and tail swishing. He was trailing a rope behind him. The soldiers and the Red Riders tried to stop him, but whenever he came close they jumped fearfully out of the way. Ardanwen raced around, disappeared from sight, then came back again. A man had seized the rope now, and he was dragged along for some distance before letting go. The black horse reared up, magnificent and terrifying. Then he galloped towards the bridge.

  The Red Riders dashed after the horse, howling and hollering, with the other soldiers following behind.

  “Ardanwen!” yelled Tiuri, but only the
Fool heard him.

  A moment later, another horseman came riding by, surrounded by men in green and black. It was the Black Knight with the Red Shield, the King of Eviellan. He gave a loud cry and rode to the bridge. A few soldiers bent over the wounded man, who was still lying on the ground, before carrying him away.

  “What have they done to Ardanwen?” whispered Tiuri. “Someone must have tried to ride him.”

  He gazed at the bridge. There was no sign of Ardanwen and his pursuers now, but he could still hear shouting in the distance. The Black Knight returned; he was in his full armour, with the visor of his helmet closed. He raised his head for a moment to look at the two prisoners standing at the window, before riding around the castle walls and disappearing.

  “He has run away, your black horse,” said the Fool. “They won’t catch him. They’ll never catch him!”

  “Oh, I hope you’re right!” said Tiuri. “But Ardanwen was injured. I saw it.”

  “He is wild. And he is fast!” whispered the Fool. “And they will not catch him!”

  It was a while before the men returned. They were talking animatedly as they rode by, but the prisoners could not tell how the hunt had ended. But Ardanwen was not with them.

  Tiuri sat down at the chessboard and said, “Whatever has happened or will happen, this is all I can think about now.”

  Head in hands, he pondered matters. He did not look up again until the door of his prison opened, and then he rose to his feet.

  The King of Eviellan clearly did not want to wait long to settle their fight. He stood before Tiuri in the guise of the Black Knight and did not raise the visor of his helmet.

  “Ah, I see that you are keen to win!” came his voice, muted and mocking. “But you have time, while I can stay for only a few minutes. Not that I begrudge you the opportunity to reflect upon your position. Life or death… Have you really thought about it? Sometimes death is preferable to life…” He continued after pausing for a moment, “I’m sure you do not believe that, but just imagine: a dark dungeon… a crypt where daylight never comes. Locked away forever, lying on slippery stone, listening to the dripping of the drops that fall. Nothing else! Would you call that ‘life’?”