The Land of the Silver Apples

Jack’s heart sank even further. “You see, she’s never known anything else. She thinks she is a hobgoblin, and she loves her foster parents. It would have been cruel to kidnap her.”

“Although I did think of it,” said Thorgil.

“It’s a good thing you failed,” said the Bard. “Now, we have much to talk about, and Aiden will surely want to hear what happened. Jack, why don’t you ask him around for dinner. Oh, and you might take Pega and her friends a basket of food. Tell them they’ll be most welcome after dark.”

Jack left at once, wondering which bird had told the old man about Pega and the hobgoblins. It was uncanny how the Bard always seemed to know everything that was going on. As he went out the door, Jack heard Father say, “Thorgil is a strange name for a Saxon.”

“It’s very popular up north,” the Bard informed him.

When evening fell, the townspeople went home. They were in a fine mood, laughing and congratulating one another on the victory over the monks. “Father Severus put them on bread and water for a month,” one of the men said.

“Prayers every four hours and work duty the rest of the time,” said another happily. “When they’ve finished mending the walls, they can start on Din Guardi. Ah, it’s good to have a real king again!”

“A fine little princess he’s got himself too.” The men chuckled and made their way through the darkening fields to Bebba’s Town.

Jack listened to them as he lay on his stomach in the long grass beyond the monastery’s perimeter with the hobgoblins and Pega. “Do you think it’s safe?” whispered the Bugaboo.

“I hope so. Brother Aiden told me to enter by way of the lych-gate.” They crept forward until they reached an opening in the wall around the graveyard. It was completely deserted inside, with weeds growing over sad little crosses marking the monks’ graves. A mist drifted in from the meadow.

“All the better to hide us,” murmured the Nemesis.

They came to the back door of the infirmary, and Thorgil opened it. “About time,” she grumbled. “Dragon Tongue wouldn’t let us eat until you arrived.”

Jack was used to the strange appearance of hobgoblins, but Father almost fell off his stool when he saw them. “Demons! D-demons! Come to drag us down to Hell!”

“Stay calm, and you, too, Aiden,” ordered the Bard. “These gentle creatures are hobgoblins, the kindest folk on earth. Welcome, Pega. I’ve saved you the best seat.”

The girl hung back in her tattered and dirty clothes. “I’d rather stay with the Bugaboo and the Nemesis.”

“To be honest, all the seats are best because they’re all the same,” the old man said cheerfully. “You and your friends are guests of honor. Serve the meal, Ratface. You may be dressed like a knight’s squire, but we all know you’re a scullery boy underneath.” Ratface sourly passed around bread trenchers covered in lentil stew and cups of cider.

“To new beginnings!” said the Bard, lifting his cup.

“To new beginnings!” the others echoed. They fell to, and no one spoke until they were finished.

“It’s excellent,” the Bugaboo said after his fourth serving of stew. “It just needs a tiny handful of mushrooms to improve it.”

“As usual, you show deplorable manners, criticizing the food,” said the Nemesis. Jack knew the hobgoblins were completely relaxed when the Nemesis started sniping at his king again.

“Thorgil has told us of your adventures, and I, of course, already knew some of them,” the Bard said. “You are to be congratulated, Pega. It’s no small thing to triumph over the elves. I knew, when you lit that candle at the Yule ceremony, that you were meant to do something important.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, looking down shyly.

“And you, Jack, broke the ring of Unlife around Din Guardi. For a long time the life force has striven to enter. It was like a boil that festered and sent infection all around. Now it is healed.”

“I lost the staff from Jotunheim,” Jack couldn’t help saying.

“I know.”

Of everyone in the room, Jack thought, only the Bard understood what a terrible sacrifice that had been. The old man looked at him with such sympathy, the boy was afraid he might cry and disgrace himself. “There are other powers that come with sacrifice,” the Bard said quietly. “They are known to the Wise, but it takes time to learn them. I knew long ago, at the need-fire ceremony, that you, Pega, and Lucy had set immense change into motion. What I didn’t see was Thorgil. She gave what she most valued when she raised her hand against the Lord of Unlife. And gained much that she has not yet realized.”

“She?” said Brother Aiden and Father at the same time.

“You got used to hobgoblins. You can get used to Thorgil being a girl,” the Bard said. Jack was impressed with how he’d introduced each problem and made it seem like the most ordinary thing in the world. Father was even talking to the Bugaboo, and Brother Aiden had stopped crossing himself whenever he looked at the hobgoblins. Good old Bard! He got the best of everyone.

The door leading to the monastery opened suddenly, and in came Brutus—King Brutus, Jack reminded himself—and Father Severus. “Whew! It’s been a busy day,” exclaimed the new Lord of Din Guardi. “I haven’t been able to sit down once.”

“Tomorrow will be worse,” Father Severus assured him. “We were on our way to bed when I remembered a bit of unfinished business. You can pick out your own beds, by the way. The monks will be sleeping on the floor for a very long time. Dragon Tongue”—he turned to the Bard—“it is time you met someone.”

Father Severus stepped aside, and Ethne came into the room, making the candles seem to burn brighter. “Behold your daughter, Dragon Tongue.”

For the first time since Jack had known him, the Bard was rendered utterly speechless.

Jack understood now why Ethne had seemed so familiar. When she was elvish, she was like a younger version of Partholis. But when she was human—and Jack liked her much better then—she had the same blue eyes and even the same smile as the Bard. Some of her kindness probably came from him too. Alas, it was usually swamped by Partholis’ influence. Now the human side came to the fore.

“I always wondered who my father was,” Ethne said. “I asked Mother and she couldn’t remember.”

“Elves don’t.” The Bard finally found his voice. He looked stunned.

“I’ve heard so much about Dragon Tongue.”

“Seems like you made off with more than Partholon’s magic,” remarked Father Severus.

The Bard cast him a fierce look. “I’ll thank you not to spoil this moment. Ethne, believe me, I had no idea of your existence. I wish I’d seen you when I was young. It was sixty years ago when I was in Elfland, and you are young still, but that’s how things happen there.” The old man smiled sadly. “I haven’t much of a place to offer you, but you are most welcome.”

“She’s going to be a nun,” said Father Severus.

The Bard turned on him. “Now, that is too much. There’s more than one way to step into the stream of life, and I’m perfectly able to instruct her. I won’t have her spending hours fasting and turning her back on the beauty of the world.”

“But—Father—I like fasting,” said Ethne.

“It’s just a novelty to you. What you need is to be immersed in life, let it flow through you, learn to love.”

“I’ve been instructing Ethne for a year,” argued Father Severus. “I’m going to build a nunnery and send to Canterbury for an abbess to run it. Ethne will have companions and instruction. She’ll learn to do good works. She’ll be taught humility. I’ll root out that elvishness and cleanse her soul until the angels will fight over who gets the honor of carrying her to Heaven.”

“Oh, dear, dear, dear.” The Bard sighed and looked very old and tired indeed. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, and I may not have enough years left to save her.”

Jack felt alarmed. He didn’t want to think of the Bard dying ever, even if it only meant he’d be reborn somewhere else.

“There are many branches on the Great Tree, child,” the Bard said gently, taking Ethne’s hands. “Christianity is only one leaf.”