The Land of the Silver Apples

“That’s all right.” Pega smiled. “You’re a king, which is better.”

“I can hardly wait to get to St. Filian’s,” said Jack.

“Me neither! I miss Brother Aiden.”

The Bugaboo was about to say something when Brutus called for them to join him. Thorgil’s pony, apparently deciding she was his new owner, followed her up the hill and waited nearby, cropping the grass.

“Are we going to St. Filian’s?” Jack asked.

“We must deal with Bebba’s Town first,” said Father Severus.

“I’ve been arguing with him,” said Brutus. “It seems it isn’t enough to be Lord of Din Guardi. I realize there isn’t much left of the place—”

“There isn’t anything,” said Thorgil.

“—but a title should count for something.”

“You have to understand,” the monk argued. “Bebba’s Town has been ruled by scoundrels for a long time. They don’t trust anyone. You have to win their support before you attempt to take control of the monastery.” Father Severus frowned as Ethne danced to another part of the meadow, followed by Ratface. “For one thing, you must look like a man who could protect them. Yes, yes. I know you’re handsome. Battlefields are littered with the bones of good-looking men. But the townspeople expect you to be fierce, a proper warrior like your ancestor Lancelot. It also doesn’t hurt to seem irritable, as though you’d cut off the head of the first person who annoyed you.”

“I’d never do that!”

“I didn’t say you’d have to do it. Just look as if you might. That’s how Yffi maintained power and how every leader does it.”

“I’d rather rule this field of daisies,” said Brutus, smiling.

“Pay attention, you dolt!” Father Severus looked both fierce and irritable. Jack realized the monk would make a far better leader than Brutus, but the job wasn’t open for him. “You have a duty to these folk. Great injustice has been done, and innocent people have been plundered and killed. You must take control. I have a plan—but before I get to it, would you mind going down to that meadow, good Nemesis? Tell Ratface I’ll turn him over to the yarthkins if he doesn’t leave Ethne alone.”

“Gladly,” said the Nemesis.

After Father Severus outlined his plan, Brutus went off to find the Lady of the Lake—by himself, because (he said) the Lady despised all mortals (except for him, of course). He was gone a very long time.

Jack despaired of ever getting to Bebba’s Town. He was hungry, and the meadow had little food to offer. The Bugaboo and the Nemesis found turnips, but raw turnips hardly qualified as food in Jack’s mind. When Brutus returned, however, they saw what had taken him so long. The Lady of the Lake had given them wondrous gifts.

For Jack there was a white tunic and a blue cloak embroidered with silver moons and stars—most suitable for a bard, he thought. Thorgil was given a dark blue tunic and a leaf green cloak with vines around the edge. It made her—well, it made her look beautiful, Jack thought, remembering the kiss beneath Din Guardi. He looked away in embarrassment.

Father Severus wore a black monk’s robe. To go with it, the Lady had provided a crozier, a shepherd’s crook with the end carved like an uncurling fern. “It’s magnificent!” cried the monk, waving it about. “Even better than the ones I saw in Rome. All the best bishops have them—good heavens, I’ve just committed the sin of pride!”

Ethne was radiant in a white gown sprinkled with diamonds. Ratface was dressed as a proper knight’s squire, which took away some of his weasel-like demeanor. “There’s a heap of swords, belts, and pennants next to the lake,” Brutus said. “We can pick them up on the way.”

But for Pega and the hobgoblins there was nothing. “I can’t go in this,” Pega cried, pointing at her threadbare, secondhand dress.

“The Lady must have forgotten about you,” Brutus said.

“She didn’t forget!” fumed Jack. “She’s taking revenge. Partholis must have told her about the candle.”

“Don’t cry, dearest. It’s much nicer to wait here,” said the Bugaboo. “Hobgoblins can’t go into town anyway. Mud men throw rocks at us.”

Pega wiped her tears away. “They are mud men, aren’t they? Oh, how I hate them! And the Lady, too!”

“I’ll tickle up some trout, and the Nemesis will build a fire. When it’s safe, we’ll go to St. Filian’s and see your Brother Aiden.”

“You’re so good to me,” she said, sighing.

“And who would not be?” the hobgoblin king declared.

It was easy rounding up horses—they seemed relieved to find owners again. Thorgil rode her pony, and Jack found one too. He had never been on a horse, except with King Yffi’s men, but he had some experience of donkeys. A pony was exactly the right size to learn on. He turned to wave good-bye to Pega and the hobgoblins. All three were hidden in the grass, and if Jack hadn’t known exactly where they were, he would have missed them.

The band set off with Jack and Ratface bearing green pennants that fluttered in the breeze. Jack was pleased with the new and extremely well-made sword at his side. It was short and light enough to be used easily. To no one’s surprise, Ethne turned out to be an excellent horsewoman. She had only to ask, and the beast did exactly what she wanted as though it understood her speech. Brutus rode a coal black stallion with neat hooves and flashing eyes. They made a glorious pair, with Father Severus going ahead to announce them. Ratface plodded behind on a heavy-footed nag he was afraid of.

“Brutus will charm all the women, and Ethne will charm all the men,” observed Thorgil as she and Jack brought up the rear. “Perhaps they should marry.”

“Ethne wants to be a nun,” said Jack.

Thorgil laughed. “You might as well ask a butterfly to haul rocks. I know little of nuns except that Ethne would make a bad one.”

“She’s allowed to try.”

“I wonder. In some ways she’s like Frith and Yffi—oh, not cruel or vicious like them. But she’s caught between two worlds. Such creatures often go mad.”

“Father Severus will watch over her,” said Jack uneasily.

The entry into town was all they could have hoped for. Everyone was gathered in the market square, for all had heard that Din Guardi was no more. A pair of shepherds, looking for lost sheep, had watched its destruction. “It were a dragon!” one of them told the excited crowd. “All breathing sparks and whatnot. Horrible noises, just horrible!”

“We daren’t stick out a toe all night,” the other exclaimed. “Else we’d be gobbled up too. In the morning there was nothing. Not… one… pebble.” The tidiness of the destruction impressed everyone.

It was then that Father Severus rode up on his steed, crying, “Make way for the new Lord of Din Guardi!” Everyone scattered to make room. Brutus followed, cheerfully raising his hand in greeting. “Look fierce,” hissed the monk, and so Brutus frowned adorably.

“Coo! He’s a handsome one,” a woman said.

“What about her?” said a man. Ethne made her horse lift its hooves delicately, as though it were dancing. It was a pretty trick that caused many a shout of approval, but of course the prettiest trick of all was the glamour that shone all around.

“You tell me if that looks like a nun,” Thorgil said to Jack.

“Behold the man who rules Din Guardi after the death of the vile usurper Yffi!” cried Father Severus, raising his crozier. “In the night, destruction fell on that fortress. All evil was swept away, and now is the time of new beginnings.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” said a man who seemed to be a local leader, “you mean a dragon didn’t tear the place up?”

“There are no dragons here,” the monk said scornfully. “It was the wrath of God that fell on Yffi.”

“But He had help, right?” insisted the man. “By the way, I’m the mayor.”

“Well, mayor of Bebba’s Town, God chooses His instruments where He pleases. Behold Brutus! Rightful heir to his father, Lucius, of the line of Lancelot!”

Again Jack found himself admiring the monk’s skill. Not once did he actually lie. God had chosen His instruments of destruction: yarthkins. But by proclaiming Brutus, Father Severus left the