Never before
had the Great Hall been the center of such a commotion. No battle had ever
created this much argument and confusion. It was almost daybreak and The Elders
were still finding the energy to jump to their feet in anger at every statement.
This was an unprecedented situation. Outsiders - not just from other villages,
not just from other tribes, but real outsiders, strange-looking people from
faraway lands, had camped just the other side of the river. They had beautiful
horses, incredible wagons, and the most amazing clothes. They were like nothing
anyone had ever seen before - and King Lomen’s men were scared.
Times had
been changing for a while. Fishing boats were coming back with wreckage they had
found floating, the likes of which they’d not seen anywhere. Strange boats had
been seen in the distance. Unusual items had washed up on the beach. There was a
feeling of being watched.
The warriors were ready of course. They grew
bored easily and had been keen to march or sail out to meet the strangers for
weeks now, but the King had told them to wait. With the food shortages of late,
the last thing he needed was a war, and he hoped these were peaceful visitors.
He’d consulted the wise man of course, but he wasn’t sure old Drayhus really
knew what he was saying anymore. And who was going to take his place? None of
his surviving sons had pleased him enough to be taught the old ways of the
sorcerer, and his chosen successor, a grandson by Nuthal, the beloved son he had
lost in battle, was blind. “Supposed to be a seer, ha!” - the King thought this
ironic, and made his own counsel.
All this talk was behind them now, and
the strangers were here. Quite a few of them too, by the looks of things. A
watch was put on the river, but they couldn’t play this game forever, a decision
had to be made.
“My Lord, we must have the upper hand, we must protect
our lands and our people. To wait for them to just walk into our villages is
insanity!”
“Sit down......... sit DOWN Ruter, no-one is suggesting we go
like lambs to the kill. But they have shown NO SIGN of wishing violence. We have
seen no weapons, no armor.”
This was true, but it made no sense to Ruter.
As the King’s loyal and trusted military leader he had no experience of any
outsider who came in peace in such large numbers. Yes, traders sometimes arrived
in small groups, maybe ten at a time. They posed no threat by their small
numbers, and although carefully watched, were generally allowed to enter Lomen’s
lands. Here though, were over a hundred men, and who knows how many more in the
strange boats on the horizon. What could they possibly want other than harm, to
bring such a quantity of men?
“If I may speak?”
The King was happy
for this calm request, as he had been shouted at all night.
“Please
Stiha” and he gestured to the center of the Great Hall. He had been waiting for
the gentle wisdom of his cousin, the widow of the slain Nuthal. Stiha bowed
courteously.
“If we assume these people are here to harm us, perhaps they
will. Perhaps we’ll get our wish.”
She was still grieving the loss of her
husband 15 years before, when a large army was raised from not just warriors but
village tradesfolk and farmers too, to counteract a threat perceived by the
movement of a whole tribe towards the lands governed by Lomen. In fear the new
arrivals fought them, and hundreds of lives were lost - over a misunderstanding.
The survivors, under torture, all told the same story of being driven north by
famine and were heading for an island their ancestors had known. They were just
passing through the great valley.
The King nodded sagely. The same
memory was haunting him. He’d lost his elder son in that battle, and his only
male heir was a tiny child. If anything happened now.......
His
people had known peace since then, and although times had been hard, with failed
crops and several waves of disease, fishing was good, the population was steady,
and the future seemed bright. The last thing he needed was this. He put his head
in his hands. This rare display of emotion caused murmurs in the Hall, and the
King’s chief advisor raised his hand.
“The King is exhausted, we all need
sleep. Go to your homes. Those of you on watch, keep your eyes open. The King
will speak when he is rested.”
It was a fitful sleep. The Queen had not
attended the council, was fully rested herself, and now made every effort to
keep light and noise from disturbing him, but eventually he called her
over.
“Ah, my most trusted of all trusted advisors, what am I to do my
dear?”
I know you’ll do the right thing my darling.”
“Your faith
in me exceeds my skills, I fear. I wish I knew what the future held.”
The
Queen smiled. She knew her uncle, Drayhus the sorcerer was past his prime. Being
of the same family as him, the King always looked to see if there was perhaps a
little of the witch in her, to go along with her natural female intuition. His
tired, lined face was asking for that now. Begging even.
“Ah, my
husband, the future is not written in stone. Even the prophecies of the wisest
ones can be altered. There would be no point in living if it were all decided in
advance. Fate is like a river. You know it flows towards the sea but you can
never be CERTAIN of its course.”
And she kissed him gently on the
forehead like a child needing comfort. At times like this, that was exactly how
he felt.
“I have a responsibility my dear, I must act. People are waiting
to hear what we will do. And.....I’m afraid. I feel.........lost. I was born a
warrior, like my forefathers. I know all about war, but this isn’t war. This
is.....different.”
The door burst open and a young warrior had been sent
with a message. He looked excited.
“Sire! One of the strangers is coming
across the river in a small boat. He’s alone!”
Gathering his wits
and his clothes, the King found his way to the door and looked out across the
valley. Sure enough a single figure in a tiny boat was slowly rowing his way
towards them. He was being watched eagerly by at least a hundred of the King’s
warriors at the rock wall halfway-down the hill. The sheer courage of this
gesture in the face of the obvious danger to him was all that was holding some
of the men back. The decision had been made for him, there was only one thing
the King could do under the circumstances, to show the right intent. He walked
down the hill to greet him. Alone.
Half expecting the stranger to pull
out a knife from his cloak and kill their King, the warriors stood edgy and with
weapons ready, and Ruter watched intently. But the handful of strangers on the
far bank watching their compatriot stood unarmed and humble, and to Ruter's
utter disbelief the stranger prostrated himself at the King’s feet. On rising,
he showed his empty hands palms upwards in an obvious gesture of peace. After a
short time the King patted the man on the shoulder and gestured for him to
follow back up the hill.
“Ruter,” called the King, “Our greatest problem
here is one of language. Bring me everyone you can find who speaks a foreign
tongue.”
Several tradesmen who had carried their wares abroad were
brought to the Great Hall, but none could find any similarity in the stranger’s
speech to anything they had come across. Surely, this man had traveled a great
distance. The communication difficulty became more awkward, until the stranger
took off a band around his wrist and handed to the King. It was gold. His eyes
said “Keep it, it’s a gift”, and something in his manner suggested such a deep
sincerity that even Ruter began to relax.
“These aren’t refugees from a
land stricken by want. Nor do they appear to be traders. He brings no bag of
wares. If they truly have come in peace, what DO they want?”
“I don’t
know Ruter, and if we can find no common tongue we may never find
out.”
The door opened and the King’s daughter Visha appeared. He looked
pleased to see her. Like her mother she was wise beyond her years, and also like
her mother, her radiant beauty filled a room and brought an unspoken joy to all
who saw her.
“Father, I’ve heard that the stranger speaks a strange
tongue. I know who may be able to help!”
“My daughter, thank you, but we
have called in everyone who has traveled away from our lands, none of them
recognize this language.”
“But what about Gohna? He knows many tongues.
He even speaks the language of animals!”
Ah, thought the King, yes, the
blind boy, spends all his time talking to anyone who’ll listen, copies their
voices. If ever a trader passed through the valley Gohna would have made every
effort to find him, to listen to him. To memorize his speech. But everyone knew
the boy was quite eccentric, the shock, when very young, of seeing his father
brought home in pieces had robbed him not only of his sight, but of his reason.
And his grandfather’s mentorship had addled his brain further. But what else
could they do?
“Bring the boy.”
Of course, Visha was ready, and
Gohna was with her. She brought him to the King. He sat down without being
asked, and seemed to be perfectly at ease. Ruter despised him.
“Gohna, I
want you to listen to this man’s speech and tell me if it resembles, even
slightly, anything you’ve heard before.”
“My Lord, I have been listening
from behind the door.....”
Ruter fidgeted.
“.....and his tongue is
familiar to me.”
Glances were exchanged all round. Ruter looked like he
was going to burst.
“Please boy, tell him that King Lomen welcomes him
in peace.”
Gohna paused for a while then found the words he needed. The
stranger gave an enormous smile, raised his hands above his head and cheered.
Knowing his place he directed his reply to the King, and waited patiently for
Gohna to translate.
“I thank you from my heart for this welcome. It is
with much fear that we travel to new lands.”
“And why are you here
friend, what can we do for you?”
The word friend, which Gohna translated
with extra emphasis, being a confirmed pacifist, was the clincher. The stranger
opened his heart to the King.
“My name is Yenahu. I come from a land so
far that two summers have passed since I left my home. The journey has not been
easy. We have lost many on the way.”
“Are the boats we see in the
distance part of your people?”
“Yes, we came by boat, we followed the
coast west until there was nothing more, then we turned and came north. We have
stopped at many ports, but most were not friendly. We have been turned away and
attacked many times. But we must keep going on. We have to tell
you.”
