The Secrets of the Wild Wood, Page 8

  He spotted it at the side of the path, where it sank at an angle into the boggy ground, grey, old and partially covered with moss. But the letters, which must have been carved into it long ago, were still clearly visible. Tiuri leant forward to decipher them. However, the words they formed were unfamiliar to him.

  Isadoro began to speak. “It’s a signpost, and this is what it says.” She continued in a singsong voice:

  You who come as an enemy,

  retrace your steps

  or may the Wood devour you!

  You who come as a friend,

  tread this path in peace

  and may you reach your goal,

  may you not go astray

  and may the Spirits of the Forest watch over you!

  Then she walked up to the signpost and sat on it as if it were a throne. “My father found this stone when he was still a boy,” she told them, “buried under creepers and dead leaves. He had it placed upright here as a reminder of days gone by. Someone later translated the words for me.”

  “Who?” asked Piak.

  “Someone I once met,” replied Isadoro, and there was something evasive about her expression.

  “How old do you think the stone must be?” asked Piak.

  “Hundreds of years ago there were castles where the trees now grow,” said Isadoro. “That’s what the chronicles and legends say. Knights and princes lived there, who had come from afar, from beyond the Great Mountains…”

  “From the Kingdom of Unauwen,” whispered Piak.

  Lady Isadoro shrugged. “Who can say?” she said. “Those days exist only in stories now, stories that not everyone believes.”

  Tiuri realized the words on the stone might well be written in the old tongue of the Kingdom of Unauwen, which was still used by some as a secret language.

  “This is what they say,” said Lady Isadoro. “In a castle on the Black River lived a knight who loved peace. But war stalked the land and enemies pressed in on every side. So the knight said he wished to be left alone and swore never to leave his castle again. And trees began to grow around his castle and to hide it from people. But there were paths that led there, and he had them marked with signposts like this one. As the years went by, the paths became overgrown and closed up, and he died all alone and was forgotten. His castle, the Tarnburg, became a ruin, entangled deep within the forest. But they say the knight’s ghost still haunts the place. People call him the Master of the Wild Wood.” She stopped talking and sang another fragment of the song she’d begun the night before:

  I heard tell of a fortress grim

  by mountains and 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?

  Tiuri and Piak stared at Isadoro as she sat on her strange perch, the bottom of her white and red cape falling across those ancient carvings.

  But suddenly she leapt to her feet and said, “I mustn’t sing that song here! We should go.”

  Tiuri picked her up again and they headed back along the path in silence.

  As they approached the meadow, they heard the sound of hoofs.

  “Put me down,” said Isadoro.

  Tiuri did as he was told. He had continued to carry her even after they’d left the muddy path.

  A rider dressed in brown and yellow was approaching. It was the grim-faced captain of Sir Fitil’s men.

  “Hamar!” Isadoro exclaimed.

  The man-at-arms reined in his horse. His expression was even grimmer than usual. “Lady Isadoro,” he said, politely but sternly, “you know your father does not allow you to go out alone.”

  “My dear Hamar,” said Isadoro, “I am not alone! Look, Sir Tiuri and his squire are accompanying me.”

  “Sir Tiuri and his squire know their way in the Wild Wood even less well than you,” replied Hamar. “When I heard which direction you’d ridden in, I immediately came after you. That’s what your father would have ordered me to do had he been at home.”

  “Sir Tiuri and Piak wanted to ride to the old hunting lodge,” said Isadoro. “Father knows about it. And I thought I could go with them.”

  “Does your father know about that, too?” asked Hamar, still politely, but with an expression that clearly said he wasn’t planning to let Isadoro dismiss him.

  Isadoro seemed to realize that, because she smiled and said, “Ride with us, Hamar, and do not let us out of your sight!”

  Hamar bowed his head. “Thank you, my lady,” he said.

  They walked back to the horses. Tiuri was the last one to mount his horse. As he did so, he gave a gasp of surprise. Little yellow flowers had been woven throughout Ardanwen’s bridle!

  “Look at this!” cried Tiuri. “Who could have done it?”

  “How strange!” exclaimed Piak.

  “Your horse has certainly made itself look very fine,” said Hamar.

  Tiuri leant forward to take a closer look at the flowers. There was no way it could have happened by chance, as they were so neatly woven into the leather.

  “Who did this?” he said, looking at the others.

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” said Piak.

  Grim Hamar grinned scornfully at the thought that he might have come up with such an idea. Then he looked at his mistress. She was staring in amazement at the yellow flowers that stood out so brightly against Ardanwen’s gleaming black coat. She slowly shook her head.

  “Well, someone must have done it!” Tiuri cried.

  “You really don’t need to ask,” growled Hamar, his eyes still on Isadoro.

  “It wasn’t me,” she said, but it didn’t sound very convincing. “Come on, let’s go to the hunting lodge,” she said as she rode off.

  Tiuri caught up with her. “Did you do it, Isa?” he asked quietly.

  She frowned and replied, “Hamar’s right. There are some things you shouldn’t ask about.”

  “But…” Tiuri began, but then he fell silent. He really didn’t know what else to say. Isadoro seemed just as mysterious as the stories about the Wild Wood.

  Now they were riding along the path in the direction Sir Ristridin had come from. Of course, there was no sign he had ever passed that way. Any trace had been wiped out after such a long time, and there were no people living anywhere around who might have been able to answer their questions.

  “What are we actually doing here?” asked Hamar, when they stopped.

  “I don’t know,” Isadoro said with a sigh. “It’s so dark and gloomy!”

  The abandoned hunting lodge was dilapidated and covered with moss; its doors were closed and the windows nailed up. It was surrounded by tall, dark pine trees and brushwood that was dry and old. The path came to a dead end there.

  “Look, some branches have been snapped,” said Piak, pointing. “Do you think it might have been Sir Ristridin?”

  “It could just as easily have been an animal,” said Hamar. “There are wild boars around here.”

  “Oh, let’s go home, shall we?” Isadoro pleaded.

  There was little else they could do than grant her wish. There was no chance of finding any sign of Ristridin here.

  “And what if we had found something? What then?” said Tiuri to himself, as they rode back to Islan. “Ristridin has already left the forest.” He felt annoyed and dissatisfied.

  The yellow flowers were starting to wilt and he wondered again what they could mean. Piak had not woven them into the bridle, because he surely would have said so. Hamar had not done it either; the very thought was ridiculous. So it must have been Isa. But why would she deny it?

  Oh, of course, he realized, she’s embarrassed.

  “Every flower has a meaning,” said Isadoro’s voice beside him, as if she had guessed his thoughts.

  “A meaning?” asked Tiuri.

  “In some cases, the names speak for themselves,” she replied. “Rue, heartsease, forget-me-not… For others, you need to know t
he language of the plants. Rosemary for remembrance, violet for modesty…”

  “What about this one?” asked Tiuri.

  “They’re primroses,” she said. “And primroses mean…” She looked right at him. Then she whispered, “I want to speak to you, alone.”

  She urged on her horse and rode ahead of him towards the castle.

  “So it was her!” said Tiuri to himself. He was about to chase after her, but thought better of it. She had said enough and apparently no longer wanted to ride with him. She had never ridden very closely beside him, even though she had allowed him to carry her.

  Why did he still feel so uncertain?

  It was only as they arrived at the gates of Islan that the answer came to him.

  Isadoro was so scared of Ardanwen that she didn’t dare to approach the horse. So it could not have been her who wove the yellow flowers into the bridle!

  5 IN THE LADY’S GARDEN

  “All we have heard is what we already knew,” said Bendu as they ate dinner. “Ristridin rode to the east through the Forest of Islan.”

  “And we heard more talk of Deltaland,” Evan added. “Ristridin and his men stopped to rest for a short while at a hunters’ cabin at the edge of the forest. A hunter who was there at the time heard them talking about Deltaland. But he didn’t hear enough to give us any leads. Do you have anything to tell?” he asked Tiuri.

  “No,” Tiuri replied after a moment of hesitation.

  Evan looked at him curiously, but did not ask any questions.

  “Then we must soon return to Castle Ristridin,” said Bendu.

  “But not right away!” exclaimed the Lord of Islan. “You have only just arrived.”

  “We can wait another day,” replied Bendu. “But I am sure you understand that we do not wish to stay away too long from the place where we are to meet Ristridin and Arwaut.”

  “Of course, that’s perfectly clear,” said Sir Fitil. “Then please remain here tomorrow as our guests. We shall do something enjoyable, a tourney with jousting, tilting at rings and the like. My best men can take part and my daughter will present the prizes. Then I shall hold a grand farewell meal, with singing and music, so you will not be quick to forget Islan.”

  “I’m sure we won’t do that,” said Bendu. “And the young men will certainly appreciate such festivities.” Bendu himself did not seem particularly interested.

  Tiuri was not in the mood for a celebration either, even though, like the others, he said it sounded most entertaining. He couldn’t stop thinking about the yellow flowers and he kept wondering if Lady Isadoro had lied to him. And, if so, why? But she could have overcome her fear of Ardanwen and that meant she must have something important to say to him. He needed to talk to her alone, as soon as possible.

  As they rose from the table, he was able to whisper to her quickly. “Isadoro, were those flowers yours?”

  “Yes,” she whispered back.

  Tiuri noticed that her father was keeping an eye on them, and Isadoro could see it, too. “Tomorrow, in my garden,” she added quickly before turning away from him.

  The rest of the evening he spoke to her only in the company of others, and not a word was said about the flowers.

  Tiuri lay awake for a long time. Evan was breathing quietly and Piak seemed to be asleep as well. But then he sat up, got out of bed and went to perch on Tiuri’s bed.

  “Hey, Tiuri,” he said quietly. “Are you in love with Lady Isadoro?”

  Tiuri did not reply.

  “I know very well you’re not asleep!” whispered Piak.

  But Tiuri really didn’t know how to respond to Piak’s question. Was he in love with Isadoro? He thought about her all the time and kept seeing her in his mind, but there was something else mixed in with his emotions: distrust.

  “Whether you’re in love with her or not, you mustn’t believe everything she tells you,” said Piak. “She’s acting as if the flowers were her idea, but that’s not true! She doesn’t even dare to stroke Ardanwen!”

  “I know,” said Tiuri.

  “Oh. Well, I’m glad to hear that,” said Piak. “So what now?”

  “Hush!” whispered Tiuri. “I’ve told you that I already know. And tomorrow I’ll speak to her, and ask her straight out what’s going on…”

  “Straight out? You can’t even think straight when she’s around,” sniffed Piak. “She’s beautiful enough, but she’s as tricky as a… as a…” Then he fell silent because he couldn’t think of a good comparison.

  “Ah, stop talking so much,” said Tiuri wearily. “But I will tell you this: tomorrow I’m going to the Wild Wood again. If she didn’t do it, I want to know who did.”

  “Back to the forest?” whispered Piak. “But there’s that tourney tomorrow.”

  “I’ll go early, alone, and make sure I get back in time,” said Tiuri.

  “On your own? Can’t I come with you?” asked Piak.

  “Yes, you can come,” replied Tiuri.

  “So we’re going together?” asked Piak, stressing the final word.

  “Yes, together,” said Tiuri.

  Evan turned over and gave a sigh.

  “And now I’m going to sleep,” said Tiuri. “Goodnight, Piak.”

  Piak climbed back into bed and soon nodded off, but it was some time before Tiuri fell asleep.

  Even so, like Piak, he was up and about before dawn the next morning. But when they went into the great hall, they found Lady Isadoro had risen even earlier. The three of them ate breakfast together.

  “Tiuri and I would like to go for a short ride,” said Piak. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

  “Of course,” said Isadoro. “Where are you going?”

  “Oh, we’ll see,” replied Tiuri.

  But Piak said defiantly, “To the Wild Wood.”

  “That far?” she said. “You know we’re having a tourney later. Don’t tire yourselves and your horses, and make sure you’re not back too late.” She didn’t seem at all guilty or concerned. In fact, she looked happy, and she kept giving Tiuri meaningful glances.

  When they’d finished breakfast, Tiuri told Piak to go ahead to the stables. As for himself, he followed Lady Isadoro to the garden.

  They walked along corridors and through rooms, up and down stairs, across courtyards and through gates.

  Castle Islan is another place where it would be easy to get lost, thought Tiuri. Isadoro had told him it was very old. Once there had been a wooden house on the same spot, of which only a few parts remained, and then a stone castle had been built, and every lord who had lived there had added something new. There were many courtyards, with rooms around them, all kinds of towers, and various ramparts and moats surrounding the castle.

  The garden was on the south side of the building, completely enclosed by high walls, with just one small door. Isadoro unlocked it with a key that hung from her belt, and said, “No one may enter this garden without my permission.”

  They went through the door and Tiuri took in the scene with surprise. Here, in this sheltered spot, spring was in full bloom: small, delicate trees like bouquets of blossom, bluebells and crocuses blooming in the grass, and creepers of rich green. Gravel paths led around the garden, and there were benches and pots of shrubs dotted about.

  “This is my garden,” said Isadoro. She almost looked like a pretty flower herself.

  They strolled along the paths. Isadoro showed Tiuri the plants, told him their names and related little stories about them. Tiuri listened, but he was waiting for her to start talking about more important matters.

  They sat down on a bench and Isadoro said, “Whenever I am tired or angry, or when I am feeling lonely, I always find comfort here. But it is more pleasant to be able to share this place with someone.” She looked at Tiuri with a melancholy smile. “You probably feel it’s too quiet here,” she said. “You are a knight and you must dream of adventures and thrill at the thought of tourneys and banquets.”

  “Oh, no,” said Tiuri. “Well, not al
l the time. I haven’t been a knight all that long, you know.”

  “Tell me about the journey you went on last year,” said Isadoro.

  “Ah,” said Tiuri, “but isn’t there something you wanted to say to me?”

  “What would you like me to say?” she replied vaguely. “Look, a butterfly! It’s the first one I’ve seen here.” She spoke cheerfully now. “Do you think it will settle on my finger? That will bring us good luck!” She stood up and chased after the butterfly. The green sleeves of her dress fluttered and her blonde hair rippled.

  Tiuri would have preferred to forget his plans and stay here with the lady in her garden. But was it really the right time for such a carefree game? He had to find out what was going on – and what she was hiding from him. Tiuri stood up and walked over to her.

  Isadoro had stopped beneath a big, gnarled tree in a corner, close to the wall, and was leaning against the trunk, her eyes fixed on a barred window in the wall.

  “Gone,” she said flatly.

  “Gone? Who’s gone?” asked Tiuri.

  “The butterfly. I can’t see it anywhere. Can you? It was supposed to bring us luck.”

  But Tiuri didn’t look for the butterfly; he was gazing at Isadoro. She held out her hand and he took it in his. Was she crying? He leant towards her and kissed her, first on her eyes, then on her lips. He simply could not help himself. And she put her arms around his neck and responded to his kiss. He felt as if a dance of fiery butterflies were whirling all around him, but when he opened his eyes, he saw only her eyes, green, blue, like pools in a forest.

  “Oh, Isa…” he whispered.

  She laid her finger on his lips. “Hush,” she said quietly. “Hush, hush!”

  Far away, somewhere beyond the wall, they heard Piak’s voice: “Sir Tiuri!”

  Tiuri heard him, but he did not listen. Arm in arm, close together, he and the lady walked through the garden and sat down once again. Isadoro leant against him, and he played with a lock of her hair, his head full of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to kiss her again, but the question that was bothering him still remained unanswered. Or did it no longer matter?