walls were also stone, ordained with rich tapestries, arms and armor; bronze candle holders allied with several rude chandeliers to light the room like twilight sun. Raised on a dais, the head table stood perpendicular to the others, with Lord Milada at its head and an open chair beside him, meant for Ivona.
Milada stood, his tall, lanky figure swaying in an involuntary dance, as was his wont when things excited him. Like an inverted rainbow, his smile broke on his face, and his eyes danced along with his arms as they played to the jig the fiddler wove. He was a different man here than in the forest, for here he had authority and there weakness.
“My daughter, I have returned at last!” He threw his arms around her as she reached the dais.
Her composure had returned, and once more she was gently joyful. “Father, it is time!” was all she could say before her tears broke through once more.
“Tears of joy, and what joy it is, to be here at last. And on your birthday, the day you become an adult, a woman, the lady of the castle!”
“Yes, father. I am a woman now, and I have decided what I will become.”
“A flower cannot keep itself closed; yet I have a special present for you, a present that you cannot imagine!”
The people assembled in the hall gave a loud cheer. Over a hundred people stood there, everyone from the village and the castle household. They venerated Milada for many reasons, and in that time of oppression, he was on firm footing domestically. After a moment, the crowd began to hush, and Milada stood once more: this time on the sturdy oaken table before him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered together to celebrate the birthday of my blooming and beautiful child, marking her entry into womanhood. It is also the day of my return from a long and troubling journey, one giving me many pains and stresses. Indeed, I am not lying when I say that I barely returned home at all!”
He paused here and delivered the last phrase with emphasis. The audience gasped and waited for him to continue.
“I was traveling from Horam on the forest road, the last leg of my trip, and had not met a soul for three days. Things grew tedious and I fell asleep, leaving Hismoni and his guards to steer the way. Then, at noon today, I was awoken by a loud cry. I jumped from my seat and saw a half dozen ruffians battling with my three guards. They were the fiercest, toughest men I have ever seen: seven feet tall and stronger than a dozen horses. In a moment, they had wiped Hismoni and his men to the ground without being injured themselves. Then they rushed toward me, with an evil light in their eyes that left me sure they would leave me dead. The leader, a humongous brute with a face like a dragon, reached in through the window and grabbed my shirt, pulling me up and throwing me back down with a low growl. I was terrified.
“But then, from nowhere, came a deep and commanding voice – the very voice of God – booming as thunder and roaring as a thousand lions in full rage. It spoke these words, ‘You ruffians and heartless brutes! Release him at once or I will make you suffer the wrath of the heavens and the earth!’ They turned to see who spoke, and as they did their ranks opened and I was able to see him as well. It was a man, of normal height, but with a strong build and a fearsome face. His hair was dark and low, as was his beard. Both were uncombed, and he himself was dirty and clothed in a soiled rag that reached neither his feet nor hands. This wild man was the one who had spoken, but his appearance was at odds with his intelligent speech, and even more so with the marvelous sword that hung from his side, glittering in the sun like a lightning bolt. ‘Surely,’ I thought to myself, ‘This is Zeus, and that his weapon of fire!’”
Again the crowd gasped, and Ivona herself was amazed and frightened: appalled at what her beloved father went through, yet thankful for the strange man’s courage. The nobleman went on:
“The bandits were at first frightened, but then – seeing they outnumbered him six-to-one – they charged, and I put my head into my hands, hiding my face in shame at the thought that he would lose his life for my sake. I could hear the clash of swords and cries of pain – like men being killed – and a fierce roar that no doubt came from the wild man, though it sounded like a bear. Suddenly, all was silent and I looked up, expecting to see him slain; but he stood there alive, all by himself. Around him were the bodies of his opponents, everyone of them as dead as death itself. The guards were beginning to wake, and he came closer that I might hail him. ‘My lord,’ I said, ‘What man are you that you do such mighty deeds?’ He looked at me solemnly and said, ‘I am Prince Willard, heir to the throne of Bombay, making my hermitage here to gain wisdom and love before my reign begins.’ I was once more astonished, for Bombay is well known to be one of the richest and most powerful nations in the world!”
This last part Milada greatly embellished, for it did not exist, as far as he knew. But Willard had told him and he believed, because of the latter’s heroic deeds. He went on:
“I bowed and offered him all he could want. But he declined, saying he had come to deny himself. I then asked him if he was indeed looking for love, as he had implied. He said yes, and I told him of Ivona. This, then, is the wondrous present I have brought you, my daughter: the heroic Prince Willard of Bombay is to be your husband!”
The crowd cheered again, a smile playing on every lip, for each respected Milada and loved his daughter. But then something happened that they did not expect: just as he announced the marriage, Ivona fainted and fell down at his feet.
Chapter 13
It was in her bedroom that Ivona awoke, in the company of her father and of none other. She had been unconscious for ten minutes, during which time Milada was very anxious to know the cause of her fainting. His lean figure paced the room and he muttered to himself, in distress once more. His outward bravado at dinner had given way to his writhing at the forest melee. His worries soon came to a head, either way, for Ivona’s fair features began to awaken from their involuntary slumber. She looked about, confused until her eyes lit upon her father. Then her face fell to the ground, and she remembered what had been said.
“Tell me you were merely jesting, father.”
“No, it was all truth,” his thin limbs wiggled in a half-hearted dance, “But for the bit about the dragon heads, which I embellished for the sake of the tale.” He seemed proud of his attempt at humor and began his natural jigging movements again, to which Ivona could do nothing but laugh and sigh inwardly at the apparent simplicity of her beloved father.
“Father, tell me, am I so false to you that you promise my heart to a wild man before you had even conversed with him for half an hour? Am I, the jewel of your heart, given at half price to an unknown merchant – or even, for all you know, to a pawnbroker?”
His dancing stopped. “Would you, then, be an old maiden all your days? The man is a crown prince and a valiant warrior, articulate and of honorable morals. He defended an old man whom he had never met before at the risk of his life, and would take no reward for it. Ivona, listen to me and heed my words – this life is as hard as it is fleeting, as uncaring as it is meaningless. And you must live it by its own rules. You cannot sit here and hide yourself away behind the vale of the vast forest, nor can you ignore the truths which crown this existence as frail and empty, coloring them with thoughts of God and religion, thoughts of service over authority and humility over pride. You chase after all that is not seen and is not known in hopes of gaining wisdom, not realizing wisdom is the cessation of such pursuits. Look about you, my daughter, look about you and see: do not the evil flourish and the righteous fade away? Do not the lawless defeat the law, and the haters conquer the lovers?”
Ivona arose, her spirited eyes blowing with the spirit of the forest. “And if what you say is true, father, then why live at all? If all the joys of life are ill-gotten, and all happiness bought with the price of another’s suffering, then why feel love for any? Yes, father, this life is fleeting; and all is forgotten, without love or hope in all the earth. Those who have gone before us have no meaning here, nor do those who toil along with us, for all is selfish and made to serve its owner. And so my heart longs to serve its owner, though it is not myself who owns it, but God. While all else is torn down and ridiculed by men, while all that is good is proclaimed by the wise to be wicked, and all that is wicked is proclaimed by the good to be wise, there is one who remains steadfast, whose message does not change: love your neighbor more than yourself, and do to others what you would have them do to you, for that is the law
“I have had enough of your spiritual delusions and metaphysical masquerades! There is nothing but what can be seen and felt, there is nothing beyond the here and now, so do not sacrifice yourself to divine apparitions; instead, marry a man who is strong and powerful. For your supreme beauty will bring you riches and power, if you allow it.”
“Father, how can such blasphemies flow from your mouth as freely as water from a fountain? If I am made
