Our King, of course, talks to everyone, freely and cheerfully, but he talked to me much more after that. I cannot be familiar with him. The weight of kingship and all our Kings before him makes him a heavy matter to me. Our position oppresses me, too. We cannot be called prisoners, yet what else are we? So when he makes his jokes, I do not laugh.
“Fluffyhead, you do come of a serious-minded family,” he said to me one day, in a brown field, where the grass lay plastered down with mud in long ripples. “Can’t you laugh? I know you’ve had your troubles, but look at me. I’ve lost my two sons, my wife, and my kingdom, and I can still laugh.”
“I expect you’re looking forward to conquering the Heathen and getting your kingdom back, Majesty,” I said, “and I’m not.”
“Great One!” he said, twinkling his eyes at me. “Do you think so, solemn face? I gave up that idea months ago. The most I hope for is to save my skin until I can get a new heir. It will be my son who benefits from the One’s help, not me.”
I thought this was just his joke at the time, but it has now become clear to me that our King has inde
ed no intention of fighting the Heathen again. He inquires daily about the Heathen, but this is in order to avoid them.
Many times it has been on the tip of my tongue to tell him that the Heathen he is running from is only Kars Adon—though I think there are other little bands, too, as Kars Adon said—and that the real menace is Kankredin. But I have not said. Kars Adon is a Heathen and an enemy, but his way is better than our King’s. I do not blame our King. Jay has told me how terrible the wars were. But I will not tell him about Kars Adon. Duck will not tell him either. He says our King bores him, and nobody can do anything about Kankredin. As for Hern—well, I found out when we had news of Kars Adon at last.
Summer drew on us as we traveled. We approached the River again, which seemed to revive Robin, and came into the hills at the end of the great lake. The lake was beautiful. It was blue as solid sky. The many trees around it were reflected upside down in the blue. But it was spoiled for me by the people there. They said we were Heathens and stoned us. Duck has a scar from it which will last all his life.
Jay stopped the stoning by saying we were Heathen princes under the protection of the mages. Robin was very angry with Jay.
“What should I have said, lady?” Jay asked. “You try telling them the truth.”
While we were there, some men came over the broken bridge, very pleased with themselves. They had fought Kars Adon. They knew it was him by the flags. Kars Adon’s people had been surrounded in a valley across the River. Numbers of them were killed before they could fight free.
“Why didn’t you kill them all?” our King asked pleasantly.
Hern told me this with a pale face. “The fool!” he said. “The stupid fool! Fancy getting himself penned in on low ground!”
Now I know the other part of Hern’s misery. As Hern has failed in what he set himself to do, he has taken comfort in the dreams of Kars Adon. He knows it is wrong—that is why he is so moody—but he cannot help himself. I had often wondered why Hern listened so eagerly to the King’s daily messages about the Heathen.
He was hoping for news of Kars Adon. Now we have it, it is bad news. Poor Hern. It is lucky our King does not intend to fight the Heathen. Hern would be on both sides at once.
2
We journeyed through forest beyond the lake. Robin was bounced over tree roots and thrown out of the cart once. It seemed to me that much more of it would kill her.
“Go and tell the King the One wants us to stop until Robin’s well,” said Duck.
It was an excellent idea. “Suppose I tell him the One wants us to be left behind in an empty cottage, on our own?” I said.
“He won’t do that,” said Duck. “He wants the One.” He was right.
Our King readily agreed to camp until Robin was well. “Still looking very peaky, isn’t she?” he said. He pointed through the budding green. “Suppose she rests up in that old mill over there. We’ll camp outside, and the village over the River can send us food. We’ll give her a week or so. There don’t seem to be any Heathen in these parts.”
I had no idea we were near the River. It was all forest to me. Imagine my surprise when I found it was the mill across the River from Shelling—the one that is haunted by a woman, that they say the River forbade them to use. I told the King it would do perfectly. I hoped I would see Zwitt’s face when he knew.
Jay went over to Shelling in the punt Uncle Kestrel keeps on the millpond and gave them the King’s orders. Shortly Zwitt and some other people came over in boats, bringing a few things and protesting about the rest. I think food was short. The floods had been in all the gardens. But Zwitt would protest if he was sitting on a heap of vegetables a mile high and someone asked him for a carrot.
Zwitt saw Hern with the King and knew him at once. He asked to speak to the King alone. I looked out from the mill and saw them walking together among the forget-me-nots by the millrace. Zwitt, by his face, was uttering dire warnings. Our King was laughing and patting Zwitt on the back. I see why our King was so pleased. Now he knows that we told the truth and the One is indeed the One. I think he came to Shelling on purpose. It is what I would have done in his place, I suppose, but my heart is heavy. He will never let us go now. Hern says Zwitt made the King promise him twice as much as usual, as a fee for leaving us alone. But promises are easy.
“Your friends across the water tell me you put bad spells on them,” Jay said to me. “Are you a witch?”
“I wish I was. I’d—I’d turn their feet back to front!” I said.
“Temper, temper, now!” said Jay.
I am still very bitter. From upstairs in the mill, where I sleep, I can see the ruins of our house. Zwitt did that. It was to soothe my bitterness and my worry about Robin that I began to long to weave. Then came my dream. Then Uncle Kestrel.
We made Robin a bed in the dry room on the ground floor. It has a door, for loading flour, which opens onto the River, and I have this open in the daytime so that Robin can see the River. All the time I have been weaving it was at its most beautiful. The water is a deep, shining green, like an eye in the light. It flows lazily, slowly. The sun slants down in beams and turns the water green-gold. Midges circle in. Every so often a fish leaps, or a willow bud falls heavily and swims to the doorstep. But Robin does not enjoy it. And I find it so hard to be patient with her.
That first day I was near shaking her. As we were settled, I wanted Gull with us, where I could see him. If we exchanged him for the Young One, no one but us would know the difference. Robin unwrapped Gull and let me have him. But she would not have the Young One in exchange.