“He and the bishop were worried that the wood nymph might be an inappropriate influence here at the Holy Grove, but when I talked to her yesterday it was clear that she herself takes spiritual issues seriously.”
As I spoke I realized, almost guiltily, that it was much easier talking to the hermit alone than it would have been with Evrard there.
The hermit smiled gently. “My daughter, the wood nymph, certainly does not distract me from my devotions, if that is what the chaplain has feared. I wish he had mentioned his concerns, and then I could have eased his mind.”
“I don’t think I need any spiritual reassurance myself,” I said, “but I did want to ask you something. What has the Cranky- I mean, what has Saint Eusebius said to you? He appeared to the chaplain in a vision and told him he wanted to leave this grove. Apparently he was fairly firm on that point.”
“As I told you before,” said the hermit, looking at me with bright eyes, “he will not want to leave the shrine where he worshipped when in the flesh, and where his relics have always been.”
I hated to doubt the word of such an obviously holy hermit, but I knew he was prevaricating-either that or I would have to doubt the veracity of Joachim’s vision.
“You mean,” I said, lowering my eyebrows at him and trying to give an air of wizardly wisdom, “that your conversations with the wood nymph have persuaded you that the saint’s cranky temper comes and goes. You are personally confident he will no longer be irritated with life in the valley if the entrepreneurs are removed from the top of the cliff.”
“Those poor souls do seem somewhat confused,” said the hermit, which I took as a confirmation of my guess. “Do you know,” he added, cocking his head to one side, “they came to visit me yester day?”
“They did?” This was a surprise.
“They came in disguise, of course, because they were embarrassed at the spiritual inappropriateness of what they doing. They hoped to find out, without actually asking, what was my opinion of their business, and, even more importantly, if Saint Eusebius might be thinking of leaving the grove. From the point of view of their enterprise, I realize, the departure of the saints’ relics would be disastrous.”
“In disguise? But- Of course. I saw them too.” I should have realized myself that the three men in gray robes were not really weary, footsore pilgrims. I had even seen their riding boots. “What did they say?”
“Very little. They offered me loaves of bread, as true pilgrims normally do, and they knelt in prayer at the shrine, although they seemed uncomfortable doing so. They took some water from the river in little bottles. But I know that Saint Eusebius will judge the spiritual impulse of their inner hearts, which made them ashamed of making money from the things of God.”
“And what did you tell them about Saint Eusebius?”
“I merely told them that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.”
The hermit was fairly astute, but I had a different explanation for why three disguised entrepreneurs should have come to the shrine. If they had been hired to upset the Cranky Saint by the priests of the distant church who wanted the saint’s relics, then they wanted to find out how well their plan was working.
But I recalled that, when Evrard and I had seen the half-constructed scaffolding, I had concluded they really must hope to make money from pilgrims coming to see the Holy Toe. This was rapidly becoming too confusing for me this early in the morning.
“You say that you do not need spiritual comfort yourself, my son,” continued the hermit, his eyes resting on my face. “But I think that you do. Come back to the grove with me now. I was going to break my fast with some of the bread those poor souls left with me, and I would be happy to share it with you.”
I hesitated for a second, knowing that Joachim would be surprised if I did not go, knowing that Evrard would roll his eyes at me if I did, and wondering uneasily what my teachers at the school might say. But then I stood up. I could certainly have breakfast with an old hermit. Besides, I was hungry.
Early morning was just reaching the valley. We picked our way up the path beside the waterfall and went into the center of the grove, where the hermit’s hut backed up to the shrine of the Holy Toe. The inside of the hut had the same dirt floor and rough walls as the huts of the apprentice hermits; if anything, it was a little smaller.
He gave me a slice of black bread and took a crust for himself. Having had nothing to eat the day before but the nymph’s berries, I devoured it ravenously, washing it down with spring water that tasted exactly the same as the nymph’s water.
“You seem hungry, my son,” said the hermit with a small smile, and I realized with embarrassment that he had only taken a few small bites of his bread while I was polishing off mine.
“I thank you, Father,” I said meekly. He wasn’t my father any more than Joachim was, but I felt I had to show respect.
He put down the rest of his crust uneaten. “If you have finished satisfying your physical needs, then, perhaps I can help your spiritual needs.”
I was still hungry, but it would have been rude to ask for more, especially since I doubted he always had enough himself.
He took me by the shoulders and turned me gently toward him. His touch was cool and very light. His bright eyes reminded me oddly of the deep pool in the center of the grove. “You are very confused, my son.”
I started to deny it, then changed my mind.
“Surely your friend the chaplain has told you that God is the answer to confusion.”
Actually Joachim had never said this to me. Oh, well, I thought. Since I had eaten the hermit’s bread, I would now have to listen to him.
But his next remark surprised me. “Have you ever thought of the origin of your magic?”
“Magic’s a natural power, part of the same forces that shaped the earth,” I said promptly. That every wizard knew.
The hermit smiled as though at a clever pupil. “And you know that the earth was formed by God. In performing magic, wizards touch the hem of His garment and take part, even if only in a very small way, in His power of creation.”
This they had
“You have an awesome responsibility, my son. It would indeed be too heavy a burden for mortal man to bear, were it not for God’s mercy.”
I started to deny I had any awesome responsibility, then stopped. As I had told the old wizard, with an audacity that amazed me as I recalled it, I was Royal Wizard and responsible for any magical events in the kingdom.
“But God does not forget the sons and daughters of His creation, even when they forget Him.”
I looked into the old hermit’s bottomless eyes until I felt I was sinking into them. I felt almost as if in a trance, my breathing deep and regular and my heartbeat slow, though my mind felt unnaturally clear. I
But then I remembered I had something important to tell him. I fought back to myself like someone swimming up from deep under water I broke eye contact with him and mentally shook my head. Being trained in wizardry had always made me susceptible to powerful outside influences.
I was a wizard, and the world needed wizardry as much as it needed priests and hermits. Here, I thought, the old hermit would agree with me.
“Did you know that three priests are on their way here,” I asked, “to see if Saint Eusebius would be willing to have his relics leave with them? They come from some distant city-I forget its name-but it’s where the saint was originally made a priest.”
“On their way? When will they arrive?”
“The pigeon message from the bishop said they would reach the royal castle of Yurt-” I paused to calculate and was surprised at the answer I reached. “They should have reached there yesterday.”
“Then I may see them today or tomorrow,” said the hermit peacefully. “I am sorry they will have had such a long trip without result. But I must not say that. They will certainly find it spiritually refreshing to worship at the shrine. No priest from the church where the saint received his youthful training has been to the grove since I have been hermit.”
