Wood Nymph and the Cranky Saint- Wizard of Yurt - 2 (21 page)

Saint, and the money-making enterprise at the top of the cliff.

“Had you learned about Saint Eusebius of Yurt before you came here?’ I asked cautiously.

“The duchess told me a little about him,” he replied, equaly cautiously. “Why?”

His answer seemed deliberately to leave in doubt whether he knew anything beyond what she had said. Before I could formulate a response, I was distracted by movement on the road down into the valey.

My first wild thought, in spite of al my attempts at calm rationality, was that it was the old wizard’s monster, but then I saw it was a group of horsemen. Nimrod had seen them, too, and stood up. With the aid of a far-seeing spel, I could tel that there were four mounted men, al dressed as priests and folowed by a pack horse. The man riding at the head was Joachim.

Il

I jumped at once to my feet, vastly relieved. With Joachim here, I could turn over the hermit, the Holy Toe, and the entrepreneurs to him. I realized that, somewhere in the back of my mind, I also hoped he would be able to help deal with the old wizard s monster, even though, as I had often told him myself, magic was much more efficient than religion i one had to face magical creatures. I only restrained myself from flying to meet him by the recolection that the priests from the church that wanted the Cranky Saint’s relics might not look kindly on magic being practiced only a short distance from the Holy Grove.

‘Who’s coming?” asked the duchess behind me. I had not heard her approach.

“It’s the Royal Chaplain and the priests he was expecting.” I turned to see Evrard flash me a grin of triumph.

None of the others seemed interested in the arrival

of some priests in the valey. Diana started teling Nimrod about the nymph, who had apparently spoken briefly with them. Leaving them behind, I started down the road to meet the riders.

I prepared myself for a formal, even distant greeting. Joachim might not want to advertise his friendship with a wizard.

But then he lifted his head, gave a highly unexpected but quite genuine smile, and swung down off his horse. “I m delighted to see you, Daimbert,” he said, wringing my hand. “I’d assumed you were off chasing horned rabbits across the fields of Yurt. I didn’t dare hope you might be here.”

He turned to introduce me to the other priests who, as I expected, had come from the distant church where Saint Eusebius had originaly made his vocation. I looked quickly at their faces, wondering if they might be the purported pilgrims who had climbed down the cliff to the grove. But they were completely unfamiliar. They did, however, al give me highly suspicious looks.

Joachim looped his horse’s reins over his arms and walked beside me while the priests, stil mounted, rode behind. He appeared much more at peace than when I had last seen him.

“I decided two mornings ago to meet these priests at the cathedral city,” he said, “in order to nave a chance to talk to the bishop. I’m afraid I slipped away very early and rather secretly. I wanted a fast horse, to be sure of reaching the cathedral city before the priests left there for Yurt.”

His black eyes flashed at me with what in someone else would have been mischievous enjoyment. “The fastest horse in the stables, of course, used to be the queen’s stalion until she sold it when the little prince was born. So I took Prince Dominic’s new one. Naturaly, I didn’t tel him what I was doing. The stable boy was stil too sleepy to give me an argument. When we al got back to the castle late last night, Dominic wasn’t there.”

This made it complete. The regent would now be furious with al of us. There were few horses in the royal stables that could carry him easily, now that he had gotten so heavy, and he had been inordinately proud of the enormous but light-footed chestnut he had bought that spring. And for the chaplain, of al people, to take it!

But this thought was driven out by another. Why had Dominic not been back at the castle? It was only a short distance to the old wizard’s cottage in the woods. But if the royal regent and Yurt’s best knights had come hammering on the green door, anything might have happened.

I didn’t dare say anything to the chaplain about this with the priests so close behind. “That’s not Dominic’s stalion,” I said instead, looking back at the mount Joachim was leading.

“Of course not. His is a wonderful stalion, very fast and nearly tireless, but it deserved a rest once the need for speed was over.” He smiled again. At this rate he would soon break his previous record for most smiles in an hour. “It was good to see the bishop. I should have gone there before, rather than relying on messages.” By now we had reached the others. Joachim performed the introductions quickly. Nimrod appeared highly startled to see the priests. He stepped quickly back into the shadow of the trees, turning his face away, while they too stared at him in surprise.

“And I have a message you’l al be interested in,” Joachim said. “Since almost everyone else in the castle was gone, the constable had me come to the telephone when the king and queen caled last night.

The baby prince has taken his first steps.”

Evrard smiled politely and Diana said, “How sweet.” I alone was as delighted to hear this news as Joachim. I was also intensely relieved the royal family was not here in Yurt but rather somewhere safe, where a baby’s first steps could be the most exciting

event.

The priests of Saint Eusebius left us and headed toward the shrine. The duchess glanced upward. The sun had long since passed from the narrow valey and the afternoon sky far above was a pale blue. “It’s late,” she said. “We’d better get started if we’re heading back to the royal castle. We won’t get there tonight, but I’ve got a tent big enough for at least four.” Before I could answer, Evrard said, “I don’t know about Daimbert, but I’m staying here. Just leave me a little more to eat, my lady—the wood nymph’s berries aren’t very filing!’

I imagined five or six things that Diana might say in the short pause before she answered, but then she only said, very quietly, “I’d somehow imagined that my ducal wizard would be able to help me with magical problems and magical creatures.”

Evrard refused to take the hint. “I thought I’d already helped you with magical creatures,” he said with a wink.

Diana took a short breath through her nose, not

quite a snort.

“I myself—” I started.

But Joachim didn’t give me a chance to finish. “Wil you stay with us this evening, Daimbert?” he asked, turning his enormous dark eyes on me. “The priests and I wil pass the night near the hermitage and I’d very much like your counsel.”

This was becoming like a frustrating dream in which one runs and runs but never reaches the goal. I had been trying to leave the valey since early this morning, but now I was trapped for another night.

Joachim had never before, that I could recal, asked specificaly for my counsel.

“Of course,” I said. There was nothing else I could

have said.

In a few minutes, Evrard had disappeared back

toward the nymph’s end of the grove, carrying bread and cheese from the duchess’ supplies; she and Nim-rod had started along the road that would lead them out of the valey; and Joachim and I went up to the shrine of the Holy Toe.

The priests were kneeling at the altar and showed no immediate sign of seizing the golden reliquary of the toe and making a dash for it. Two of them were middle-aged and the third, who kept giving the others nervous glances, was younger, probably about the same age as Joachim and I. Once they and the old hermit had finished exchanging blessings, we al started back down the valey.

“We knew, of course,” said one of the older priests, “that Saint Eusebius had retreated to a grove far from the bustle of the City when he decided to become a hermit.” The priest was as round as an apple and he breathed hara after the scramble down the track by the fals, but his eyes did not have any of the good humor I had always associated with apples. ‘But somehow I had not expected that now, a ful fifteen hundred years later, the site of his hermitage would stil be located in such a God-forsaken wilderness.”

“God never forsakes any land of His creation,” said the other older priest, who was as thin as the other was round. He spoke intensely and his eyes seemed to gleam.

‘we’l have to sleep rough tonight,” continued the round priest, paying no attention to this comment. Then he held up a hand, as though to forestal a remark no one in fact had made. “But we must not grumble. God demands far harder of those dedicated to His service.”

“And we must folow to the death,” agreed the thin priest. He whirled on their younger coleague. “I hope you understand fuly!”

“Fuly!” the young priest cried in panic.

I didn’t dare meet Joachim’s eye. But he seemed calm and peaceful. I was quite sure I would not have

been as calm after more than two days in these priests’ company. I reflected how fortunate I was to have come to a royal court where Joachim was the chaplain, rather than someone like either of the older priests. Whatever he wanted of me, I fervently hoped we could finish our discussion tonight.

“Tomorrow,” said the thin priest, “we shal pray that the saint make his wil unequivocaly clear to us—that is, his wil that we take his relics back with us.”

“I have no doubt Eusebius wil be clear at the last,” said Joachim. “This is, after al, the saint who responded, when a man importuned him incessantly to straighten his crooked arm, by resetting the bone so violently that bone fragments flew out through the skin.”

Al three priests stared at him and so did I, but none of them answered.

“I saw some stone huts further down the valey,” said the round priest instead. “I’m sure they are provided for the crude comfort of pilgrims to the shrine.”

“In fact,” I put in, “they’re the huts of the old hermit’s apprentices.” Al three priests turned to look at me as though surprised I would dare address them, and the thin priest started to speak, but I went on determinedly. ‘The apprentices like to practice hospitality. They may be wiling to let us have one of their huts for tonight.”

“Ordained priests of the Church have precedence over mere apprentice hermits,” said the round priest. “We shal take those huts that seem most appropriate for our use.”

“I’l ask the apprentices,” said Joachim. Although he spoke quietly, tne others turnea toward him sharply. ‘ Come with me, Daimbert,” he added and we walked together down the valey, leaving the other priests looking thoughtfuly after us.

I wondered hopefuly if they were planning to report Joachim to the bishop as someone who had become dangerously friendly with a wizard, in which case I need not worry about him being asked to go join the cathedral chapter. I had several things I would nave liked to ask, but the only one I ventured was, “What did the bishop say when you talked to him?”

“He reminded me that God does not give us responsibilities too heavy for us to bear, and that He is always there if we wil only turn to Him.” This was almost exactly what the old hermit had said to me, although I found that it had eased my worries much less than it seemed to have eased Joachim’s.

“Al priests are caled Father,” he continued, “because we act as mediators between humanity and the One Father. But the bishop realy is the father of al the Christian souls in two kingdoms. Even with his manifold duties and responsibilities, he stil took time for a fatherly discussion with me.”

“What did he suggest you do about the Cranky—about Saint Eusebius s relics?”

It was growing dim under the trees, but Joachim’s eyes were even darker. “He told me that I had his ful authority to act, that he was sure the saint would reveal his true purpose to me.”

“And he told you this while these priests were there?”

“Of course,” said Joachim in surprise.

This explained the three priests deference to the Royal Chaplain. It also stil sounded as though the bishop was testing him, to discover his true abilities before taking him away from Yurt.

The apprentices apparently expected us. Al five stood together at the edge of the road, jostling and whispering as we approached. And al five dropped to their knees before Joachim. He blessed them calmly, resting his hand in turn on each of their shaved heads.

“Father, have they, have those priests, have they come to take away the hermit this time?” the apprentices’ leader asked in a strained voice. My attempts to reassure them, two nights ago, had apparently not helped.

“They’ve not come for your master,” said Joachim. “They’ve come for the relics of Saint Eusebius. I know,” he continued, when al the apprentices gasped in dismay, “that he and you are dedicated to the saint’s service. But it is not yet clear whether they wil ultimately take the saint’s relics away with them or leave those relics here. And, even if they do take them, you can folow the relics and the saint to their new home.’

I tried, unsuccessfuly, to imagine the old hermit and his ragged apprentices living in the comfortable urban environment from which I was sure the three priests had come. “For now,” I put in, “we would very much appreciate it if you could let us have one of your huts for the night. I hate to keep turning you out. Don’t you have an extra one you use for storage or something? One hut wil do for al of us.” But as it turned out, we ended up turning two of the apprentices out of their huts. They did not sit with us around the fire, but pressed bread, lettuce and a jug of goat’s milk into our hands and fled. After a supper made up both of the apprentices’ food and some the priests had brought with them—Joachim drank the goat’s milk but the others wouldn’t—the priests of Saint Eusebius went off to the hut they were sharing, reminding each other that one must not grumble about the experiences God sends.

Joachim and I sat on our horse blankets, spread on the hut’s dirt floor before the fire. I felt that sleeping in a bed and sitting on furniture were a dim memory, something I might once have done in my youth.

IV

It was going to be a dark night; there was no moon and clouds hid the stars. Yet, almost ashamedly, I felt safer, less as though trapped in a nightmare, with the chaplain there, even though I knew that the Church’s