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Chapter 15 - The Brothers Lionheart Fairy tale by Astrid Lindgren

The day of the battle, the day everyone had been waiting for, came at last. There was a storm over Wild Rose Valley that day, so that trees were bent over and broken. But it wasn’t that kind of storm Orvar had meant when he had said:

“The storm of liberation will come, and it will break the oppressors, as when a tree breaks and falls. It will go forward with a roar, sweeping away our slavery and finally freeing us again!”

He had spoken like that in Mathias’s kitchen, to which people had come in secret to hear him and see him; yes, they wanted to see him and Jonathan.

“You two, you are our comfort and our hope, you are all we have,” they said when they came creeping to Mathias’s house in the evenings, although they knew how dangerous it was.

“Because they want to hear about the storm of liberation just as children want to hear sagas,” said Mathias.

The day of the battle was the only thing they thought about or longed for now. This was not all that strange, for after Orvar’s escape, Tengil had grown crueller than ever, every day finding new ways of tormenting and punishing Wild Rose Valley, which was why they hated him even more passionately than before and why even more weapons were being forged in the valley.

From Cherry Valley, more and more freedom fighters came to help. Sofia and Hubert had an army camp in the deepest depths of the forest, near Elfrida. Sofia sometimes came through the underground passage at night, and in Mathias’s kitchen they made their battle plans, she and Orvar and Jonathan.

I lay there, listening to them, as I was sleeping on the sofa-bed in the kitchen, now that Orvar needed a place in the hideout. Every time Sofia came, she said:

“Here’s my savior! I didn’t forget to thank you, did I, Karl?”

Then Orvar said each time that I was the hero of Wild Rose Valley, but I could only think about Jossi out in the dark waters and feel sad.

Sofia also arranged for a supply of bread for Wild Rose Valley. It was brought over the mountains from Cherry Valley in wagons and was smuggled through the underground passage. Mathias went around with a pack on his back and in secret, shared it among the houses. I hadn’t known before that people could be made so happy with nothing but a little bit of bread. Now I saw it, because I went with Mathias on his walks, and I saw how the people in the valley were suffering and I heard them talk about the battle they were longing for so much.

I was frightened of that day, and yet I almost began to long for it in the end, I too, for it was unbearable to go on waiting, and dangerous, Jonathan said.

“You can’t keep so much so secret for so long,” he said to Orvar. “Our dream of liberation could be crushed so easily.”

He was certainly right in that. It needed only one Tengilman to find that underground passage, or a renewed search of houses, for Jonathan and Orvar to be discovered in the hideout. I shuddered at the very thought of it.

But the Tengilmen must have been both blind and deaf, or they would surely have noticed something. If they had listened just a little, they would have been able to hear how that storm of liberation was beginning to rumble, the storm that was soon going to shake the whole of Wild Rose Valley. But they didn’t.

The night before the day of the battle, I was lying in my sofa-bed, unable to sleep because of the storm outside, and because of my own anxiety. It had been decided hat the battle would start at dawn the next morning. Orvar and Jonathan and Mathias were sitting at the table talking about it, and I was lying there listening. Orvar spoke the most; he talked and talked, his eyes glowing. he was longing for the morning more than anyone else.

This was how it was to go, as far as I could make out from their talk. the guards at the main gateway and the river gateway were to be struck down first, so that the gates could be opened for Sofia and Hubert, who would then ride in with their forces, Sofia through the main gateway, Hubert through the river gateway.

“And then we must be victorious together, or die,” said Orvar.

It must go quickly, he said. The valley must be freed of all Tengilmen and the gateways close again before Tengil had time to bring Katla, for there were no weapons against Katla. She could not be defeated in any other way except starvation, Orvar said.

“Neither spears nor arrows nor swords affect her,” he said. “And one tiny lick of her fire is enough to paralyze or kill anyone.”

“But if Tengil has Katla over there in his mountains, what’s the use of liberating Wild Rose Valley?” I said. “With her, he can suppress you again, just as he did the first time.”

“He has given us a wall to protect us, don’t forget that,” said Orvar. “And the gateways that can be shut against monsters. Kind man that he is.”

I need no longer worry about Tengil, Orvar said, for in the evening he and Jonathan, Sofia and some others were to penetrate into Tengil’s castle, overwhelm his guard and finish him off there, before he was even aware of the rebellion in the valley. Then Katla would be chained up in her cave until she grew so weak and starved that they could kill her.

“There’s no other way of getting rid of such a monster,” said Orvar.

Then he again spoke of how swiftly they must rid the valley of all Tengilmen, and Jonathan said:

“Rid? You mean kill?”

“Yes, what else would I mean?” said Orvar.

“But I can’t kill anyone,” said Jonathan. “You know that, Orvar.”

“Not even if it’s a question of your own life?” said Orvar.

“No, not even then,” said Jonathan.

Orvar couldn’t understand that, and neither could Mathias.

“If everyone were like you,” said Orvar, “then evil would reign forever.”

But then I said that if everyone were like Jonathan, there wouldn’t be any evil.

Then I didn’t say anything else, for the rest of the evening, except when Mathias came and tucked me in. Then I whispered to him:

“I’m frightened, Mathias.”

Mathias patted me and said:

“So am I.”

All the same Jonathan had to promise Orvar that he would ride around in the confusion of the battle to give other people the courage to do what he himself could not or would not do.

“The people of Wild Rose Valley must see you,” said Orvar. “They must see both of us.”

Then Jonathan said:

“Well, if I must, I must.”

But I saw how pale he was in the light of the one little candle in the kitchen.

We had to leave Grim and Fyalar in the forest with Elfrida, when we had come back from Katla Cavern. But it had been decided that Sofia was to bring them with her when she rode through the main gate on the day of the battle.

What I was to do had also been decided. I was to do nothing, only wait until it was all over. Jonathan had said that. I was to sit all alone at home in the kitchen and wait.

No one slept much that night.

Then the morning came.

Yes, then the morning came and, with it, the day of the battle. Oh, how sick at heart I was that day! I saw and heard more than enough of blood and cries, for they were fighting on the slopes below Mathias’s house. I saw Jonathan riding around, the storm tearing at his hair, and all about him nothing but fighting and flashing swords and whistling spears and flying arrows and cries and cries; and I said to Fyalar, if Jonathan dies, then I want to die too.

Yes, Fyalar was with me in the kitchen. I had thought of not telling anyone about it, but I had to have him there. I couldn’t be alone, I just couldn’t. Fyalar also looked out of the window at what was happened on the slopes below. Then he whinnied. I didn’t know whether that was because he wished to join Grim or whether he was as frightened as I was.

I was frightened, frightened, frightened.

I saw Veder fall to Sofia’s spear, and Kader die by Orvar’s sword, Dodik too, and several more, falling right and left, and Jonathan riding there in the middle of it all, the storm tearing at his hair, his face growing paler and paler, and my heart grew more and more sick within me.

And then the end came!

Many cries were heard in Wild Rose Valley that day, but one came that was like no other.

In the middle of the battle, a battlehorn sounded through the storm and a cry went up:

“Katla’s coming!”

Then the scream, Katla’s scream of hunger, which everyone knew so well. Swords and spears and arrows fell to the ground and they who were fighting could fight no more, for they knew there was no saving them now. Nothing but the thunder of her storm and Tengil’s battlehorn and Katla’s screams could be heard in the valley, and then Katla’s fire hissed out, killing everyone whom Tengil pointed at. he pointed and pointed, and his cruel face was dark with evil; now I knew that the end of Wild Rose Valley had come.

I didn’t want to look, I didn’t want to look---at anything. Except Jonathan. I had to know where he was, and I saw him just below Mathias’s house, sitting there on Grim, pale and still, the storm tearing at his hair.

“Jonathan,” I cried. “Jonathan, can you hear me?”

But he didn’t hear me and I saw him spur on his horse and fly down the slope like an arrow, flying faster than anyone in heaven or on earth had ever flown, I know. He was flying toward Tengil...and he flew past him...

Then the battlehorn sounded again, but it was Jonathan who was blowing it now. He had snatched it out of Tengil’s hand and was blowing it so that it resounded, so that Katla should know that she had a new master.

Then it was quite quiet, even the storm was dying down. Everyone fell silent, just waiting. Tengil was sitting taut with fear on his horse, waiting. Katla was waiting too.

Once again Jonathan blew on the horn.

Then Katla screamed and turned in rage on the man she had once obeyed so blindly.

“Tengil’s time will come one day,” Jonathan had said, I remembered.

It had come now.

That was the end of the day of battle in Wild Rose Valley. Many people had given their lives for the sake of freedom. Yes, their valley was free now, but the dead were lying there and did not know it.

Mathias was dead and I no longer had a grandfather. Hubert was dead, the first to fall. He had never even got through the river gateway, because there he had met Tengil and his soldiers; and worst of all, he had met Katla. Tengil had brought her with him that very day to punish Wild Rose Valley for the last time for Orvar’s escape. He had not known it was the day of battle, though when he realized it, no doubt he had been glad Katla was with him.

But he was dead now, Tengil, just as dead as the others.

“Our tormentor is no more,” said Orvar. “Our children will be able to live in freedom and be happy. Soon Wild Rose Valley will be as before.

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Chapter 13 - The Brothers Lionheart Fairy tale by Astrid Lindgren

Yes, I saw Katla, but I don’t know what happened next. I just sank into the black depths and didn’t wake up until the thunderstorm had passed and light was already beginning to appear behind the mountain peaks. I was lying with my head in Jonathan’s lap, and terror washed over me as soon as I remembered---there, far away on the other side of the river, was where Katla had stood on a cliff, high up above Karma Falls. I whimpered when I recalled it, and Jonathan tried to comfort me.

“She isn’t there any longer. She’s gone now.”

But I wept and asked him:

“How can things like Katla exist? Is it---a monster, or what?”

“Yes, she’s a monster,” said Jonathan. “A female dragon risen from ancient times, that’s what she is, and she’s as cruel as Tengil himself.”

“Where did he get her from?” I asked.

“She came out of Katla Cavern---that’s what people think.” said Jonathan. “She fell asleep down there one night in ancient times and slept for thousands upon thousands of years, and no one knew she existed. But one morning, she woke up; one terrible morning, she came crawling into Tengil’s castle, spurting death-dealing fire at everyone, and they fell in all directions in her path.”

“Why didn’t she kill Tengil.”

“Tengil fled for his life through the great rooms of his castle. As she approached him, he tore down a great battlehorn used for calling up soldiers to help, and when he blew the horn...”

“What happened then?” I asked.

“Then Katla came crawling to him like a dog. Ever since that day, she has obeyed Tengil. And Tengil alone. She’s afraid of his battlehorn. When he blows it, she obeys blindly.”

It was getting lighter and lighter. The mountain peaks over in Karmanyaka were glowing like Katla’s fire, and we were going to Karmanyaka now! How frightened I was, oh, how terribly afraid! Who knew where Katla was lying in wait? Where was she, where did she live, did she live in Katla Cavern, and how could Orvar be there? I asked Jonathan and he told me how things were.

Katla didn’t live in Katla Cavern. She had never gone back there after her long and ancient sleep; no, Tengil kept her tethered in a cave near Karma Falls. In that cave she was chained with a chain of gold, Jonathan said, and there she had to stay, except when Tengil took her with him to instill terror into people he wished to terrorize.

“I saw her in Wild Rose Valley once,” said Jonathan.

“And did you cry out?” I said.

“Yes, I cried out,” he said.

The terror grew in me.

“I’m so afraid, Jonathan. Katla will kill us.”

He tried to calm me again.

“But she is tethered. She can move no farther than the length of her chain, no further than that cliff where you saw her. She stands there nearly all the time and stares down into Karma Falls.”

“Why does she do that?” I said.

“I don’t know,” said Jonathan. “Perhaps she’s looking for Karm.”

“Who is Karm?”

“Oh, that’s just Elfrida’s talk,” said Jonathan. “No one has ever seen Karm. He doesn’t exist. But Elfrida says that once in ancient times he lived in Karma Falls and that Katla hated him then and cannot forget it. That’s why she stands there staring.”

“Who was he that he could live in such a terrible waterfall?” I said.

“He was a monster too,” said Jonathan. “A sea serpent as long as the river is ride, Elfrida says. But that’s probably only one of those old sagas.”

“Perhaps he’s no more a saga than Katla?” I said.

He didn’t reply to that, but said:

“Do you know what Elfrida told me while you were in the forest picking wild strawberries? She said that when she was small, they used to frighten children with Karm and Katla. The saga of the dragon in Katla Cavern and the sea serpent in Karma Falls she’d heard many a time in her childhood, and she liked it very much just because it was so terrible. It was one of those ancient sagas that people have frightened children with in all times, Elfrida said.”

“Couldn’t Katla have stayed in her cavern, then,” I said, “and gone on being a saga?”

“Yes, that’s just what Elfrida thought, too,” said Jonathan.

I shivered and wondered if Karmanyaka was a country full of monsters; I didn’t want to go there. But I had to now. We fortified ourselves with the food sack first, saving some food for Orvar because Jonathan said that starvation reigned in Katla Cavern.

Grim and Fyalar drank the rainwater that had collected in the crevices. There was no good grazing for them up here in the mountains, but a little grass was growing by the bridge, so I think they had had just about enough when we set off.

We rode across the bridge toward Karmanyaka, the country of Tengil, and the country of monsters. I was so frightened that I was shaking all over. That sea-serpent---perhaps I didn’t seriously believe that he existed, but all the same, suppose he suddenly flung himself up out of the depths and pulled us down off the bridge to perish in Karma Falls? And then Katla; I dreaded her more than anything. Perhaps she was waiting for us now, over there on Tengil’s shore, with her cruel fangs and her death-dealing fire. Oh, how frightened I was.

But we crossed the bridge, and I saw no Katla. She wasn’t on her cliff, and I said to Jonathan:

“No, she isn’t there.”

And yet she was there. Not on the cliff, but her terrible head was protruding from behind a huge block of rock by the path up toward Tengil’s castle. We saw her there. She saw us and let out a scream that could demolish mountains, jets of fire and smoke pouring out of her nostrils as she snorted with rage and jerked at her chain, jerking and screaming over and over again.

Grim and Fyalar were so beside themselves with terror that we could hardly hold them, and my terror was no less. I begged Jonathan to turn back to Nangiyala, but he said:

“We can’t let Orvar down. Don’t be afraid. Katla can’t reach us, however much she drags and pulls at her chain.”

And yet we had to hurry, he said, because Katla’s screams were a signal that could be heard as far as Tengil’s castle, and soon we would have a swarm of Tengil’s soldiers on us if we didn’t flee and hide in the mountains.

We rode on. We rode along wretched, narrow, steep mountain paths, riding so that sparks flew from us, riding hither and thither among the rocks to lead any pursuers astray. Every moment I expected to hear galloping horses behind us and shouts from Tengil’s soldiers trying to get us with their spears and arrows and swords. But none came. It was probably difficult to follow anyone among Karmanyaka’s many cliffs and mountains, where it was easy for the hunted to evade his pursuers.

When we had ridden for a long time, I asked Jonathan:

“Where are we going?”

“To Katla Cavern, of course,” he said. “We’re almost there now. That’s Katla Mountain straight in front of you.”

Yes, it was. In front of us was a low, flat mountain with steep slopes dropping straight downward. Only in our direction were they less steep and there we would easily be able to make our way up if we wanted to, which we did, for we had to get right across the mountain, Jonathan said.

“The entrance lies on the other side toward the river,” he said. “And I must see what happens there.”

“Jonathan, do you really think we can get into Katla Cavern?” I said.

He had told me about the huge copper gate across the entrance to the cave, and about the Tengilmen who stood on guard outside day and night. How on earth were we going to get in?

He didn’t answer me, but said that we would have to hide the horses now, for they couldn’t climb mountains.

We led them into a sheltered crevice immediately below Katla Mountain and left them there, horses, packs, and everything. Jonathan patted Grim and said:

“Wait there. We’re only going on a scouting trip.”

I didn’t like the idea because I didn’t want to be separated from Fyalar, but that couldn’t be helped.

It took us quite a time to get up on mountain plateau, and I was tired when we eventually reached it. Jonathan said we could rest for a while, so I at once threw myself full length down on the ground. Jonathan did too, and we lay there, up on Katla mountain, the wide sky above us and Katla Cavern directly beneath us. It was strange to think about; inside the mountain somewhere beneath us was that terrible cavern with all its passages and caves, where so many people had languished and died. And out here butterflies were fluttering about in the sunlight, the sky above was blue with small white clouds, and flowers and grass were growing all around. It was strange that flowers and grass grew on the roof of Katla Cavern.

I wondered, if so many people had died in Katla Cavern, whether perhaps Orvar were also dead, and I asked Jonathan whether he thought so too. But he didn’t reply. He just lay there staring straight up at the sky, thinking about something, I could see. Finally he said:

"If it’s true that Katla slept her ancient sleep in Katla Cavern, then how did she get out when she awoke? The copper gate was already there then. Tengil has always used Katla Cavern as his prison.”

“While Katla was sleeping inside?” I said.

“Yes, while Katla was sleeping inside,” said Jonathan. “Without anyone’s knowing about it.”

I shivered. I couldn’t imagine anything worse; think of sitting imprisoned in Katla Cavern and seeing a dragon come crawling along just like that!

But Jonathan had other thoughts in his head.

“She must have come out another way,” he said. “And I must find that way even if it takes a year.”

We couldn’t stay any longer because Jonathan was so restless. We were heading for Katla Cavern, which was only a short walk across the mountain. We could already see the river far below us and Nangiyala over on the other side. Oh, how I longed to be there.

“Look, Jonathan,” I said. “I can see the willow where we bathed. There, on the other side of the river.”

But Jonathan made a sign for me to be quiet, afraid that someone might hear us because we were so close now. This was where Katla Mountain ended in a perpendicular cliff, and in the mountainside below us was the copper gate into Katla Cavern, Jonathan said, although we couldn’t see it from up there.

But we could see the soldiers on guard, three Tengilmen; I only had to see their black helmets for my heart to begin thumping.

We had wriggled on our stomachs right to the edge of the precipice, to be able to look down at them; if only they had looked up they would have seen us. But they could not have been more useless as guards, for they did not look in any direction, but just sat there playing dice, not bothering about anything else. No enemy could penetrate beyond the copper gate, so why should they keep watch?

Just then, we saw the gate swing open down there, and someone came out of the cave---another Tengilman. He was carrying an empty food bowl which he flung to the ground. The gate fell back behind him, and we could hear him locking it.

“Well, now that pig has been fed for the last time,” he said.

The others laughed and one of them said:

“Did you tell him what a remarkable day it is today---the last day of his life? I suppose you told him that Katla is expecting him this evening when darkness falls?”

“Yes, and do you know what he said? ‘Oh, yes. At last,’ he said. And then he asked to be allowed to send a message to Wild Rose Valley. How did it go, now? ‘Orvar may die, but freedom never!’ “

“Ha!” said the other man. “He can tell that to Katla this evening and hear what she has to say.”

I looked at Jonathan, who had turned pale.

“Come on,” he said. “We must get away from here.”

We crept away from the precipice as quickly and quietly as we could, and when we knew we were out of sight, we ran. All the way back, we ran without stopping until we got back to Grim and Fyalar.

We sat in the crevice with the horses because now we didn’t know what to do. Jonathan was so sad and I could do nothing to comfort him, only be sad too. I realized how much he was grieving for Orvar. He had thought he would be able to help him, and now he no longer believed it.

“Orvar, my friend, whom I never met,” he said. “Tonight you will die and what will then happen to Nangiyala’s green valleys?”

We ate a little bread, which we shared with Grim and Fyalar. I would have liked a gulp or two of goat’s milk too, because we had saved some.

“Not yet, Rusky,” said Jonathan. “Tonight, when darkness has fallen, I’ll give you every drop. But not before.”

For a long while he sat there quite still and dispirited, but in the end he said:

“It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack, I know. But we must try, all the same.”

“Try what?” I said.

“To find out where Katla got out,” he said.

Though I could see he didn’t really believe in it himself.

“If we had a year,” he said. “Then we might. But we’ve got only a day.”

Just as he was saying it, something happened. In the narrow crevice where we were sitting, a few bushes were growing at the far end by the mountain wall, and out of those bushes a terrified fox suddenly appeared, slunk past us, and was gone almost before we had time to see him.

“Where on earth did that fox come from?” said Jonathan. “I must find out.”

He vanished behind the bushes. I stayed where I was, waiting, but he was so long and so quiet, I grew uneasy in the end.

“Where are you, Jonathan?” I cried.

And then I really got an answer. He sounded quite wild.

“Do you know where that fox came from? From inside the mountain! Do you see, Rusky, from inside Katla Mountain! There’s a big cave in there.”

Perhaps everything had already been decided in the ancient days of the sagas. Perhaps Jonathan had been named as Orvar’s savior even then, for the sake of Wild Rose Valley. And perhaps there were even some secret saga-beings who guided our footsteps without knowing it. Otherwise how could Jonathan have found a way into Katla Cavern precisely where we had happened to put our horses? It was just as strange as when among all the houses in Wild Rose Valley, I happened to find Mathias’s and none either.

Katla’s exit from Katla Cavern; that must be what Jonathan had found; we could not believe otherwise. It was a passage straight into the mountainside, not at all large, but large enough for a starving female dragon to make her way along, said Jonathan, if she had awakened after thousands of years and found her usual path closed by a copper gate.

And large enough for us. I stared into the dark hole. How many sleeping dragons would there be in there, who would wake if you went in and happened to step on them? That was what I wondered.

Then I felt Jonathan’s arm around my shoulders.

“Rusky,” he said. “I don’t know what’s waiting in there in the dark, but I’m going in there now.”

Jonathan stroked my cheek with his forefinger, as he used to do sometimes.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to wait here with the horses?”

“Haven’t I told you that wherever you go, I go, too?” I said.

“Yes, you told me that,” said Jonathan, and he sounded quite glad.

“Because I want to be with you,” I said. “Even if it’s in an underground hell.”

Katla Cavern was an underground hell. Creeping along that black hole was like creeping through an evil, black dream which you cannot wake up from; like going from sunlight into eternal night.

The whole of Katla Cavern was nothing but a dead old dragon’s nest, I thought, reeking of wickedness from ancient times. No doubt thousands of dragon’s eggs had been hatched out there, and cruel dragons had crawled out in hordes to kill everything in their way.

An old dragon’s nest was just the kind of place Tengil would think of as suitable for a prison. I shivered when I thought of everything he had done to people in here. The air seemed to me to be thick with old dried wickedness, whisperings from far away inside the cave, which seemed to be about all the torment and tears and death which Katla Cavern had experienced during Tengil’s reign. I wanted to ask Jonathan if he could hear the whisperings too, but I didn’t, because I was probably imagining them.

“Now, Rusky, we’re going on a walk that you’ll never forget,” said Jonathan.

It was true. We had to get right through the mountain to reach the prison cave where Orvar was just inside the copper gate. It was that cave that people meant when they spoke of Katla Cavern, Jonathan said, because they didn’t know of any other cave. We didn’t even really know whether it would be possible to reach underground. But we knew that the way there was going to be a long one, for we had walked that stretch before up on the mountain, and it would be seven times worse making our way down here though dark rambling passages, with only the light from the torches we had with us.

Oh, how terrible it was to see the torchlight flickering over the cave walls, only lighting up a little of the great darkness around us, and so everything outside the light seemed even more dangerous. Who knows, I thought, perhaps there were dragons and serpents and monsters galore lying in wait for us in their dark caves. I was also frightened that we would lose our way in the passages, but Jonathan made black soot marks with his torch as we went on so that we could find our way back.

Walk, Jonathan had said, but we didn’t do much walking. We crept and crawled and climbed and swam and jumped and clambered and struggled and toiled and fell, that’s what we did. What a walk! And what caves! Sometimes we came to huge caverns so vast that we could see no end to them, except for the echo which told us what huge rooms they were. Sometimes we had to go through places where you couldn’t even stand up but had to crawl on your stomach like any other dragon. Sometimes the way was barred by underground streams which we had to swim across. And worst of all, sometimes great gaping chasms appeared at our feet. I nearly fell into one of these. I was carrying the torch and I tripped, dropping the torch. We saw it falling like a stream of fire, farther and farther and farther down, until at last it disappeared, and we were left in the dark, the worst and darkest darkness in the world. I dared not move or talk or even think I tried to forget that I existed, standing there in the black darkness on the edge of a chasm. But I heard Jonathan’s voice beside me. He lit the other torch we had with us, meanwhile talking to me, talking and talking quite calmly, so that I wouldn’t go mad with terror I suppose.

So we toiled on, for how long I don’t know, for in the depths of Katla Cavern there was no time. It seemed as if we had been wandering around for an eternity, and I began to fear that we wouldn’t get there until it was too late. Perhaps it was too late already, perhaps darkness had already fallen out there, and Orvar...perhaps he was with Katla now?

I asked Jonathan if he thought so too.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But don’t think about it now if you don’t want to go mad.

We had come to a narrow, twisting path, which never seemed to come to an end, but simply grew narrower and more confined, bit by bit, shrinking in height and width until we could hardly go on, and finally it became just a hole into which you had to crawl to get through.

But on the other side of the hole we were suddenly in a large cavern, how large we couldn’t tell, for the light from the torch did not reach very far. But Jonathan tested the echo.

“Ho-ho-ho,” he called, and we heard the echo replying “ho-ho-ho” many times in many different directions.

But then we heard something else, another voice far away in the dark.

“Ho-ho-ho,” it mocked. “What do you want, you who come in such strange ways with torches and light?”

“I’m looking for Orvar,” said Jonathan.

“Orvar is here,” said the voice. “And who are you?”

“I am Jonathan Lionheart,” said Jonathan. “And with me is my brother, Karl Lionheart. We’ve come to save you, Orvar.”

“Too late,” said the voice. “Too late, but thanks all the same.”

Hardly had the words been uttered when we heard the copper gate opening with a screech. Jonathan threw down his torch and stamped on it so that it went out; then we stood still and waited.

Through the gateway came a Tengilman with a lantern in his hand. I began to cry silently to myself, not because I was afraid, but for Orvar’s sake. How could things be so cruel that they were coming to take him away at this very moment!

“Orvar from Wild Rose Valley, prepare yourself,” said the Tengilman. “In a moment you’ll be taken to Katla. The black escorts are on their way.”

In the light of the lantern, we could see a large wooden cage made of rough timbers, and we realized that inside that cage, Orvar was imprisoned like an animal.

The Tengilman put the lantern down on the ground by the cage.

“You may have a lantern for your last hour. In his mercy, Tengil has decided that, so that you will get used to the light again and be able to see Katla when you meet her, which I’m sure you want to.”

He cackled with laughter and then vanished through the gate, which fell back behind him with a crash.

By then we were already up to the cage and Orvar, and we could see him in the light of the lantern, a wretched sight, as he could hardly move, but he crawled up to the bars and stretched out his hands toward us through the timbers.

“Jonathan Lionheart,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you at home in Wild Rose Valley. And now you’re come here.”

“Yes, now I’ve come here,” said Jonathan, and then I heard that he too was crying a little because of Orvar and his wretchedness. But then he whipped out the knife he kept in his belt and began hacking at the cage.

“Come on, Rusky! Help, now,” he said, and I hacked with my knife too, though what could we do with two knives? What we needed was an ax and saw.

But we hacked away with our knives until our hands were bleeding. We hacked and wept, for we knew we had come too late. Orvar knew it too, but perhaps he wished to believe that it wasn’t true, for he was panting with excitement inside his cage, mumbling now and again:

“Hurry! Hurry!”

We hurried so that the blood ran. We hacked away wildly, every moment expecting the gate to open and the black escorts to come in. Then the end would have come for Orvar and for us and for the whole of Wild Rose Valley.

They won’t be fetching only one, I thought. Katla will have three tonight.

I felt that I couldn’t endure much more; my hands were shaking so that I could hardly hold the knife, and Jonathan was shouting with rage, rage against those timbers that would not give way, however much we hacked at them. He kicked them, shouted and kicked and hacked again and kicked again, and then at last there was a crash---at last one timber gave way. And then another. It was enough.

“Now, Orvar, now!” said Jonathan, but there was nothing but a gasp in reply. So Jonathan crawled into the cage and pulled out Orvar, who could neither stand nor walk. Neither could I, almost, by then, but I reeled ahead of them with the lantern, and Jonathan began to drag Orvar away toward our rescue hole. He was tired now and panting, too; yes, we were panting like hunted animals, all three of us, which was exactly what we felt like, too; at last I did.

However he managed it, Jonathan succeeded in dragging Orvar right across the cavern, squeezing into the hole and in some amazing way taking Orvar with him, now more dead than alive, as I felt then, too. Now it was my turn to creep through the hole, but I didn’t get that far, for then we heard the screech of the gate and it was as if all the energy ran out of me and I couldn’t move at all.

“Quick, quick, the lantern!” gasped Jonathan, and I handed it to him, although my hands were shaking. The lantern had to be hidden; the slightest glimmer would betray us.

The black escorts---they were already in the cavern, and more Tengilmen with lanterns in their hands. It grew terrifyingly light, but over in our corner it was dark and Jonathan bent down and grabbed my arms and pulled me through the hole into that dark passage behind, and there we lay, all three of us panting and listening to their cries.

“He’s gone! He’s gone!”

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Chapter 14 - The Brothers Lionheart Fairy tale by Astrid Lindgren

That night we carried Orvar through hell. Jonathan did. He dragged Orvar through hell; there was no other way of describing it. I only managed to drag myself, and only just that.

“He’s gone! He’s gone!” they had cried, and when silence fell, we expected them to pursue us, but they didn’t. Yet even Tengilmen must have been able to reckon that there was a way out of Katla Cavern through which we had gone, and that wouldn’t have been all that difficult to find. But they were cowardly, the Tengilmen, daring to face the enemy when in a herd, but not daring to be the first to crawl into a narrow passageway where an unknown enemy was lying in wait. No, they must have been too cowardly, for otherwise why had they let us get away so easily? No one had ever escaped from Katla Cavern before, and how would they explain Orvar’s flight to Tengil, I wondered? But that was their problem; we had quite enough of our own. Not until we had dragged ourselves through the long narrow passageway did we dare stop for a while to get our breathe back, which we had to for Orvar’s sake. Jonathan gave him goat’s milk, which was sour, and bread, which was wet, but even so, Orvar said:

“I’ve never had a better meal.”

Jonathan rubbed Orvar’s long legs to bring some life back into them and be began to revive, though the couldn’t walk, only crawl.

Jonathan told him which way we had to go, and asked him if he still wanted to go on that night.

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Orvar. “I’ll crawl all the way home to Wild Rose Valley if necessary. I don’t want to lie here waiting for Tengil’s bloodhounds to come howling along the passageways after us.”

It was already noticeable who he was; no subdued prisoner, but a rebel and freedom fighter, Orvar of Wild Rose Valley. When I saw his eyes in the light of the lantern, I understood why Tengil was afraid of him. Weak though he was now, he had a kind of burning fire inside him, and it was probably that fire which carried him through that night of hell, for all of the nights in the whole world, none could have been worse.

It seemed like an eternity, full or terrors, but when you’re sufficiently exhausted, you don’t worry about anything, not even whether there are bloodhounds after you; yes, we did hear the hounds coming, howling and baying, but I hadn’t the energy to be afraid. Anyhow, they soon fell silent, for not even bloodhounds dared penetrate far into the depths where we were crawling.

We crawled along for a long, long time, and when we eventually came out into the daylight by Grim and Fyalar, battered and sore, bloodstained and soaked to the skin, almost dead with exhaustion, the night was over and the morning already there. Orvar stretched out his arms as if embracing the earth and the sky and everything he could see, but then his arms fell and he was asleep. We sank into a coma, all three of us, and we were unconscious until it was almost evening. Then I awoke. It was Fyalar nudging me with his nose He no doubt that I had slept long enough.

Jonathan was also awake.

“We must get out of Karmanyaka before dark,” he said. “After dark; we won’t be able to find the way.”

He woke Orvar, and when Orvar came to life and sat up and looked around and realized he was no longer in Katla Cavern, tears came into his eyes.

“Free,” he mumbled. “Free.”

He took Jonathan’s hands and held them in his for a long time. “My life and my freedom---you’ve given them back to me,” he said, and he thanked me too, although I had done nothing and had mostly been in the way.

Orvar must have felt much as I had when I was released from all pain and had come to Cherry Valley. I longed for him to reach his valley alive and free, but we weren’t there yet. We were still in the mountains of Karmanyaka, now probably seething with Tengil’s soldiers searching for him. It was fortunate enough that they hadn’t found us sleeping in our crevice.

We sat there eating the last of our bread, and after a while Orvar said:

“Just think, I’m alive! I’m alive and free!”

For he alone of the prisoners in Katla Cavern was alive; all the others had been sacrificed one by one to Katla.

“But you can trust Tengil,” said Orvar. “Believe me, he’ll see to it that Katla Cavern isn’t empty for long.”

Again tears came into his eyes.

“Oh, Wild Rose Valley of mine,” he said, “how much longer will you have to sigh under Tengil?”

He wanted to know everything that had happened in the valleys of Nangiyala during his imprisonment; about Sofia and Mathias and everything Jonathan had done. Jonathan told him about Jossi too. I thought Orvar would die then, right in front of our eyes, when he heard that he had suffered for so long in Katla Cavern because of Jossi. There was a long pause before he pulled himself together and could speak again, and then he said:

“My life means nothing. But what Jossi has done to Wild Rose Valley can never be expiated or forgiven.”

“Forgiven or not, he’s probably been punished by now,” said Jonathan. “I don’t think you’ll ever see Jossi again.”

But rage had fallen over Orvar. he wanted to leave, it was almost as if he wished to start the struggle for freedom that very evening, and he swore at his legs because they carried him so badly, though he tried and tried and at last succeeded in getting up on them. He was quite proud when he was able to show us that, and he was certainly a sight as he stood there, swaying backward and forward as if he might be blown over any moment. We had to smile as we watched him.

“Orvar,” said Jonathan. “Anyone can see from a long way that you’re a prisoner from Katla Cavern.”

It was true. All three of us were blood-stained and dirty, but Orvar looked the worst, his clothes in rags and his face scarcely visible what with his beard and hair. Only his eyes were visible, his strange, burning eyes.

There was a stream running through our crevice, so we rinsed all the dirt and blood off us there. I dipped my face into the cold water, again and again. It was wonderful; we felt that we were rinsing away the whole of Katla Cavern.

Then Orvar borrowed my knife and cut off a lot of his beard and hair, so that he looked less like an escaped prisoner, and Jonathan took out of his pack the Tengil helmet and cloak that had got him out of Wild Rose Valley.

“Here, Orvar, put these on,” he said. “Then perhaps they’ll think you’re a Tengilman who has taken two prisoners and you’re on your way somewhere with them.”

Orvar put on the helmet and cloak, but he didn’t like them. “This is the first and last time I’ll ever put on such clothes,” he said. “They reek of oppression and cruelty.”

“Never mind what they reek of,” said Jonathan, “as long as they help get you home to Wild Rose Valley.”

The time had come now to leave. In an hour or two the sun would set and then it would be so dark in the mountains that no one would be able to find his way along those dangerous paths.

Jonathan looked very serious. He knew what we had to face and I heard him saying to Orvar:

“The next two hours will decide the fate of Wild Rose Valley, I think. Can you manage to ride for that long?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Orvar. “For ten hours if you like.”

He was to ride Fyalar. Jonathan helped him to mounts, and at once he was quite a different Orvar, as if he were growing in the saddle and becoming strong. Yes, Orvar was one of those brave, strong people just like Jonathan. I was the only one who wasn’t at all brave. But when we’d mounted and I was sitting there with my arms around Jonathan’s waist and my forehead leaning against his back, it was as if a little of his strength came through to me and I was less afraid. And yet I couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it’d be if we didn’t always have to be strong and brave like this. If only we could be together again like during those first few days in Cherry Valley. Oh, how long ago it seemed now.

Then we set out on our journey. We rode towards the sunset, for the bridge was in that direction. The paths were many and confusing in the mountains of Karmanyaka and no one but Jonathan could have found the right way in such a maze, but he managed in some strange way, fortunately for us.

I watched out for Tengilmen until my eyes ached, but none appeared, only Orvar riding behind us in his horrible helmet and black cloak. I felt a stab of fear ever time I happened to turn my head and see him, so frightened I had become of those helmets and everyone who wore them.

We rode and rode and nothing happened. It was so calm and peaceful and beautiful all the way. A still evening in the mountains, you could call it, I thought. If only it hadn’t been so untrue. Anything might appear in all that stillness and peacefulness, and all we felt was a kind of horrible excitement; even Jonathan was anxious and on his guard every moment.

“As long as we get to the bridge,” he said, “then the worst will be over.”

“How soon can we get there?” I asked.

“Within half an hour, if all goes well,” said Jonathan.

But that was when we saw them, a troop of Tengilmen, six men with spears, on black horses, appearing where the path curved around a mountain wall and trotting straight toward us.

“Now our lives are at stake,” said Jonathan. “Move up, Orvar!”

Orvar rode quickly up beside us, and Jonathan flung his reins over to him, so that we should look a little more like prisoners.

They hadn’t seen us yet, but it was too late to escape. There was nowhere to escape to, either. All we could do was to keep riding, hoping that Orvar’s cloak and helmet would deceive them.

“I’ll never give myself up alive,” said Orvar. “I want you to know that, Lionheart.”

As calmly as we could, we rode toward our enemies, getting nearer and nearer. Prickles were running down my spine, and I had time to think that if we were caught now, we might just as well have stayed in Katla Cavern and avoided the torment of a long night to no avail.

Then we met. They reined in their horses in order to pass us on the narrow path, and I saw that the leading rider was an old acquaintance, none other than Park.

But Park didn’t look at us. he was looking at Orvar, and just as they passed each other, he said:

“Have you heard if they’ve found him yet?”

“No, I’ve heard nothing,” said Orvar.

“Where are you going?” said Park.

“I’ve got a couple of prisoners,” said Orvar. Park was given no more information and we rode on as fast as we dared.

“Turn around carefully, Rusky, and see what they’re doing,” said Jonathan, and I did as I was asked.

“They’re riding away,” I said.

“Thank goodness,” said Jonathan.

But he had spoken too soon, for now I saw that they had stopped and were all looking back at us.

“They’ve begun to think,” said Jonathan.

That was clearly what had happened.

“Stop a moment!” shouted Park. “Here, I want to take a closer look at you and your prisoners.”

Orvar clenched his teeth.

“Ride on, Jonathan,” he said. “Otherwise we’re head men.”

And we rode on.

Then Park and the whole troop turned around; yes, they turned and came after us so fast that the manes of their horses were fluttering.

“Now, Grim, show them what you can do,” said Jonathan.

And you too, my Fyalar, I thought, wishing that I myself was riding him.

No one had better steeds than Grim and Fyalar, who now flew along the path, knowing that it was a matter of life or death. Our pursuers were behind us; we heard their clattering hoofs, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away, but insistent; they did not go away, for now Park knew whom he was chasing, and no Tengilman could allow such a prey to get away. That would be a great prize to take back to Tengil in his castle.

With them at our heels we galloped over the bridge, and two spears came whistling after us, but they did not reach us.

Now we were over on the Nangiyala side, and the worst should be over, Jonathan had said, but I couldn’t see that that was so. The hunt was continued along the river. High up on the bank the bridle path leading into Wild Rose Valley twisted and turned, and we raced along it. This was the way we had come on another summer evening, which now seemed a thousand years ago, when we had come riding along at dusk, Jonathan and I, slowly riding on our way to our first campfire. That was how you should travel along rivers, not the way we were now, racing so that the horses almost fell.

Orvar rode the most wildly because he was riding home to Wild Rose Valley. Jonathan couldn’t keep up with him, and Park was catching up on us; I couldn’t think why until I realized it was because of me. There was no swifter ride than Jonathan, and no one would ever have been able to catch up with him if he had been along on the horse, but now h had to think of me all the time and that hindered him.

This ride was to decide the fate of Wild Rose Valley, Jonathan had said. And I would be the one to decide how it would end. It would end badly; I became more and more sure of that. Every time I turned around to look, those black helmets were a little nearer, sometimes hidden behind a hillock or some trees, but then inexorably there again, nearer and nearer.

Jonathan knew as well as I did that we could not save ourselves now, not both of us, and it was necessary that Jonathan got away. I couldn’t let him be captured because of me. So I said:

“Jonathan, do as I say now. Throw me off around a corner where they can’t see. And catch up with Orvar!”

I saw that he was astounded at first, but not nearly as astonished as I was.

“Would you really dare?” said Jonathan.

“No, but I want to all the same,” I said.

“Brave little Rusky,” he said. “I’ll come back and fetch you. As soon as I’ve left Orvar safe with Mathias, I’ll come back.”

“Promise?” I said.

“Yes, what do you think?” he said.

We had reached the willow tree where we had bathed, and I said:

“I’ll hide in our tree. Fetch me from there.”

I didn’t have any time to say more, for now we were hidden behind a hillock, and Jonathan reined in his horse so that I could slide down. Then he set off again and I rolled quickly aside into a hollow. I lay there listening to the soldiers thundering past. I saw Park’s stupid face for one brief moment. H was snarling as if ready to bite---and Jonathan had saved the man’s life!

But Jonathan had already caught up with Orvar. I saw them disappearing together and I was pleased. Ride on, old Park, I thought, if you think that helps. You’ll see no more of Jonathan and Orvar.

I stayed in the hollow until Park and his men were also out of sight, then scrambled down to the river and my tree. It was good to crawl into the green center of the tree and settle into a forked branch, because I was tired now.

There was a little rowing boat bumping against the bank just by the tree. It must have torn itself loose from its moorings higher up the river, for it was not tied up. Whoever had lost it would be sad now, I thought, as I sat there looking around and wondering about this and that. I looked at the rushing water and Park’s rock and thought that’s where he should be sitting, that cowardly Park. And I saw Katla Mountain on the other side of the river and wondered how anybody could imprison other people in its terrible caves. I thought about Orvar and Jonathan and wished until it ached that the would escape into our underground passage before Park caught up with them. I wondered, too, what Mathias would say when he found Orvar in his hideout. How glad he would be. All that, I sat and thought about.

But dusk began to fall, and then I realized that I would perhaps have to spend the whole night there. Jonathan wouldn’t have time to get back before dark. It was creepy, and anxiety began to crawl over me as dusk fell; I felt very lonely.

Then suddenly I saw a woman riding along high up on the riverbank, and it was none other than Sofia, yes indeed, Sofia, and never had I been so pleased to see her as at that moment.

“Sofia!” I cried. “Sofia, here I am!”

I crawled out of the tree and waved arms, but it was a long time before I could make her understand that it really was me.

“But, Karl,” she called, “how did you get here? And where is Jonathan? Wait a minute, while we come down to you. We must water the horses, anyway.”

Then I saw two men behind her, also mounted. I recognized one first---Hubert. The other man was hidden, but then he rode up and I saw him. it was Jossi.

But it couldn’t be Jossi---I thought perhaps I had gone mad and was seeing things. Sofia couldn’t have come here with Jossi! What had gone wrong? Was Sofia mad too, or had I just dreamt that Jossi was a traitor? No, no, I hadn’t dreamt it; he was a traitor! I wasn’t seeing things, here he was, and what would happen now?

He came riding down toward the rover in the half-light and he called from a distance:

“Well, look who’s here, little Karl Lionheart. fancy meeting you again!”

All three of them came down, and I stood still waiting for them with only one thought in my head. Help, what will happen now?

They jumped down from their horses, and Sofia came running up to me and flung her arms around me, so glad that her eyes were shining.

“Are you out hunting wolves again?” said Hubert, laughing.

But I stood there without speaking, just staring.

“Where are you going?” I managed to get out at last.

“Jossi is going to show us where we can best get through the wall,” said Sofia. “We must know to be ready when the battle actually starts.”

“Yes, we must,” said Jossi. “We must have a plan ready before we attack.

I was boiling inside. No doubt you’ve got your plan ready, I thought. I knew why he had come. He was going to lure Sofia and Hubert into a trap; straight to destruction, he would lure them, if no one stopped him. And then I understood: I am the one who must stop him, and it couldn’t wait. It had to happen now. However much I disliked the idea, it had to happen now. But how should I begin?

“How’s Bianca, Sofia?” I said at last.

Sofia looked sad.

“Bianca never came back from Wild Rose Valley,” she said. “But do you know anything about Jonathan?”

She didn’t want to talk about Bianca, but I had heard what I wanted to know; Bianca was dead. That was why Sofia had come here with Jossi. She had never received our message.

Jossi wanted to know, too, whether I knew anything about Jonathan.

“Surely he hasn’t been captured?” he said.

“No, he hasn’t,” I said, and I looked straight into Jossi’s eyes. “He’s just rescued Orvar from Katla Cavern.”

Jossi’s red face turned pale and he fell silent. But Sofia and Hubert were delighted, so delighted that Sofia hugged me again and Hubert said:

“That’s the best news you could have given us.”

They wanted to know how it had all been done, but Jossi didn’t, for now he was in a hurry.

“We can hear all about that later,” he said. “We must go to where we’re heading for now, before dark.”

Yes, because Tengil’s soldiers will no doubt be lying in wait, I thought.

“Come, Karl,” said Sofia. “We can ride together on my horse, you and me.”

“No,” I said. “You mustn’t ride anywhere with that traitor!”

I pointed at Jossi and I thought he would kill me. He grabbed hold of my neck with his great hands and snarled:

“What did you say? One more word and I’ll finish you.”

Sofia made him let me go, but she wasn’t pleased with me.

“Karl, it’s dreadful to call a person a traitor when it isn’t true. But you’re too young to know what you’ve just said.”

Hubert just laughed quietly.

“I thought I was the traitor. I, who know so much and like white horses, or whatever it was you wrote on the kitchen wall at home.”

“Yes, Karl, you hurl your accusations in all directions,” said Sofia sternly. “You must stop doing that.”

“I’m sorry, Hubert,” I said.

“Well, what about Jossi?” said Sofia.

“I won’t say I’m sorry for calling a traitor a traitor,” I said.

But I couldn’t get them to believe me. It was dreadful when I realized that. They wanted to go on with Jossi. They were bringing their own misfortune on themselves, whatever I tried to do to stop them.

“He’s leading you into a trap!” I cried. “I know he is. I know! Ask him about Veder and Kader, whom he meets up in the mountains. And ask him how he betrayed Orvar!”

Jossi looked as if he wanted to rush at me again, but he controlled himself.

“Can’t we get going now,” he said, “or are we to risky everything because of this boy’s lies?”

He gave me a look full of hatred.

“And I liked you once,” he said.

“I once liked you, too,” I said.

I could see how scared he was beneath his rage. He really was in a hurry now, because he had to have Sofia captured and imprisoned before the truth dawned on her, otherwise his own life would be in question.

What a relief it must have been to him that Sofia didn’t want to know the truth. She trusted Jossi and had always done so. And I, who had accused first one person and then another, how could she believe me?

“Come on now, Karl,” she said. “I’ll sort all this out with you later.”

“There’ll be no ‘later’ if you go with Jossi,” I said.

I wept then. Nangiyala could not afford to lose Sofia, and here I was unable to save her, because she didn’t want to be saved.

“Come on, Karl,” she repeated obstinately.

But then I remembered something.

“Jossi,” I said. “Open your shirt and show them what you’ve got on your chest.”

Jossi turned so deathly pale that even Sofia and Hubert noticed it, and he put his hand on his chest as if wishing to protect something.

There was a brief silence, but then Hubert said in a harsh voice:

“Jossi, do as the boy says,”

“We must hurry,” he said, moving toward his horse.

Sofia’s eyes hardened.

“Not so much hurry,” she said. “I’m your leader, Jossi. Show me your chest.”

It was terrible to see Jossi then, standing there panting, paralyzed and afraid, not knowing whether to flee or stay. Sofia went up to him, but he thrust her aside with his elbow. He shouldn’t have done that. She caught hold of him and tore open his shirt.

And there on his chest was the Katla mark: a dragon’s head, glistening like blood.

Sofia turned even paler than Jossi.

“Traitor!” she said. “Curses on your head for what you have done to Nangiyala’s valleys.”

At last Jossi sprang into life. He swore and rushed over toward his hors, but Hubert was there before him. So he turned and looked around wildly for another escape route and caught site of the rowing boat. With one single leap, he was into it and before Sofia or Hubert could even get to the bank, the current had carried him out of their reach.

Then he laughed, and it was a horrible laugh.

“I’ll punish you, Sofia!” he cried. “When I come as chieftain of Cherry Valley, then I’ll punish you.”

You poor fool, you’ll never get to Cherry Valley, I thought. You’ll get to Karma Falls and nowhere else.

He tried to row, but raging waves and whirlpools caught the boat and tossed it between them, trying to crush it, tearing the oars from his hands, and then a hissing wave came and tipped him into the water. I wept then, wanting to save him, even though he was a traitor, but I knew there was no means of saving Jossi. It was so terrible and sad to stand there in the dusk, watching and knowing that Jossi was quite along and helpless out there in the swirling waters. We saw him come up once on the crest of a wave, then he sank again and we saw no more of him.

It was almost dark now as the river of The Ancient Rivers took Jossi and carried him off to Karma Falls.

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Chapter 12 - The Brothers Lionheart Fairy tale by Astrid Lindgren

We slept under a fir tree that night and woke at dawn; it was freezing cold, at least I was. Mist was lying between the trees and we could hardly see Grim and Fyalar. They looked like two gray ghost horses in the gray light and the silence all around us. It was utterly silent, dismal in some way. I don’t know why everything seemed so gloomy and desolate and worrying that morning. All I know is that I longed to be back in Mathias’s warm kitchen and I was uneasy about what lay ahead of us, everything that I knew nothing about.

I tried not to show Jonathan what I was feeling, for who knows, perhaps he would suggest that I go back, and I wanted to be with him through every danger, however great it was.

Jonathan looked at me and smiled slightly.

“Don’t look like that, Rusky,” he said. “This is nothing. Things’ll get much worse, you can be sure.”

Well, what a comfort that was! But just then the sun broke through, the mist vanished, the birds began to sing in the forest, all that had been gloomy and desolate disappeared, and the dangers seemed less dangerous. I grew warm, too, and everything felt better, almost good.

Grim and Fyalar were also all right. They had got out of their dark stable and could now graze the rich green grass again. They liked that, I’m sure.

Jonathan whistled to them, a quiet little whistle, but they heard it and came.

He wanted to get away, now, Jonathan. Far away. At once!

“Because the wall’s just behind that hazel thicket,” he said. “And I’ve no desire to see the whites of Dodik’s eyes.”

Our underground passage came up between two nearby hazelnut bushes, but the opening could no longer be seen because Jonathan had covered it with branches and twigs. He marked the place with two sticks so that we would be able to find it again.

“Don’t forget what it looks like,” he said. “Remember that big stone and the fir tree where we slept, and the hazel thicket. Because one day we may come this way. If...”

He said no more and we mounted our horses and rode silently away.

Then a pigeon came flying over the treetops, one of Sofia’s white pigeons.

“There’s Paloma,” said Jonathan, though I don’t know how he could recognize her at such a distance.

We had waited a long time for news from Sofia, and now at last her pigeon had come, just when we were outside the wall. She flew straight toward Mathias’s house and would soon be landing in the pigeon loft outside the stable. But only Mathias would be there to read her message.

This vexed Jonathan.

“If only she’d come yesterday,” he said. “Then I’d have known what I want to know.”

But we had to be away now, far away from Wild Rose Valley and the wall and all the Tengilmen searching for Jonathan.

We were to make our way down to the river via a detour through the forest, Jonathan had said, and then follow the banks toward Karma Falls.

“And then, little Karl, you’ll see a waterfall such as you’ve never even dreamt about.”

I had seen very little before I had come to Nangiyala, certainly no forest like the one we were now riding through. It was one of those truly sagalike forests, thick and dark, and there were no trodden paths. We simply rode straight on through the trees, which slapped their wet branches across your face. But I liked it, all the same. All of it---seeing the sun sifting through the tree trunks, hearing the birds, and smelling the scent of trees and wet grass and horses. Most of all, I liked riding there with Jonathan.

The air was fresh and cool in the forest, but as we went on, it grew warmer. It was going to be a hot day, we could feel that already.

Soon Wild Rose Valley was left far behind us and we were deep in the forest. In a glade surrounded by tall trees, we came across a little gray cottage, right in the middle of the dark forest. How could anyone live in such a lonely place! But someone did live there, for smoke was coming out of the chimney and there were two goats grazing outside.

“Elfrida lives here,” said Jonathan. “She’ll give us a little goat’s milk if we ask her.”

We were given milk, as much as we liked, which was good, because we’d ridden a long way and had had nothing to eat. We sat on Elfrida’s steps and drank her goat’s milk, and we ate bread that we’d had with us and goat’s cheese which Elfrida gave us, and we each had a fistful of wild strawberries which I’d picked in the forest. It all tasted very good and we were satisfied.

Elfrida was a fat, kindly little old woman, and she lived alone there with nothing but her goats and a gray cat for company.

“Thank the Lord I don’t live behind any walls,” she said.

She knew many people in Wild Rose Valley and she wanted to know if they were still alive, so Jonathan had to tell her. He was sad when he did that, for most of it was the kind of news a kindly old person must grieve to hear.

“That things should be so wretched in Wild Rose Valley,” Elfrida said. “A curse on Tengil! And on Katla! Everything would be all right, if only he hadn’t got Katla.”

She threw her apron over her eyes, and I think she crying.

I couldn’t bear to watch, so I went to find some more wild strawberries; who was Katla and where was Katla? When would I be told that?

We got to the river in the end, in the heat of the midday sun. The sun was sitting like a ball of fire in the sky and the water glittered too, flashing like a thousand little suns. We stood high up on the steep bank and saw the river far below us. What a sight it was! The river of The Ancient Rivers was rushing toward Karma Falls so that the foam swirled. It wanted to get there with all those mighty waters, and we could hear the falls thundering in the distance.

We wanted to go down to the water to cool off. Grim and Fyalar were let loose in the forest to find themselves a stream to drink from, but we wanted to bathe in the river. So we rushed down the steep slope, almost tearing our clothes off as we ran. There were willow trees down on the riverbank, and one of them had grown right out over the river, dragging its branches in the water. We climbed along the trunk and Jonathan showed me how I should hold on to a branch and let myself down into the swirling water.

“But don’t let go,” he said, “or you’ll get to Karma Falls far quicker than is good for you.”

I held on so hard that my knuckles turned white. I swung there on my branch and let the water rush over me; never have I had such a wonderful bath, nor such a dangerous one. I felt the pull of Karma falls right through my body.

Then I climbed up onto the trunk again, Jonathan helping me, and we sat in the crown of the willow as it in a green house swaying over the water. The river leapt and played directly below us, trying to lure us in again, trying to make us think it wasn’t at all dangerous. But I only needed to dip my toes in, and in my big toe alone I could feel that pull that wanted to take me with it.

As I was sitting there, I happened to look up on the slope and then I grew frightened. There were riders up there, Tengil soldiers with long spears. They were coming at a gallop, but we hadn’t heard the sound of their hoofs because of the roar of the water.

Jonathan saw them too, but I could see no sign that he was afraid. We sat there silently, waiting for them to ride past. But they didn’t ride past. They stopped and jumped down from their horses as if they were going to take a rest or something like that.

I asked Jonathan:

“Is it you they’re after, do you think?”

“No,” said Jonathan. “They come from Karmanyaka and are on their way to Wild Rose Valley. There’s a suspension bridge over the river at Karma Falls. Tengil usually sends his soldiers that way.”

“But they needn’t have stopped just here,” I said.

Jonathan agreed with me.

“I really don’t want them to see me,” he said, “and get funny ideas about Lionhearts into their heads.”

I counted six of them up there on the slope. They were talking and arguing about something, pointing down towards the water, though we couldn’t hear what they were saying. But suddenly one of them started riding his horse down the slope toward the river. He came riding almost straight at us, and I was glad we were sitting so well hidden in the tree.

The others shouted after him:

“Don’t do it, Park! You’ll drown yourself and your horse!”

But he---the one they called Park---just laughed and shouted back:

“I’ll show you! If I don’t get to that rock and back, then I’ll stand you all a beer, I swear!”

Then we realized what he was going to do.

There was a rock protruding out of the river some way out. The currents were swirling around it and only a little of it showed about the surface. But Park must have happened to see it as he riding past, and now he was showing off.

“The fool,” said Jonathan. “Does he think a horse can swim against the current all the way out there!”

Park had already flung off his helmet and cloak and boots, and in nothing but shirt and trousers he was trying to force the horse down into the river. A lovely little black mare it was. Park shouted and swore and urged, but the mare was unwilling. She was afraid. Then he hit her. He had no riding crop but hit her on he head with his fists, and I heard Jonathan draw in a deep breath like a sob, just as he had done that time in the square.

At last Park had his own way; the mare neighed, and terrified, she hurled herself into the river just because that madman wanted her to. It was terrible to see how she struggled when the current caught her.

“She’ll drift right down toward us,” said Jonathan. “Park can do as he likes, but he’ll never get her to that rock.”

But she tried, she really tried. Oh, how she struggled and what terror she felt when she sensed that the river was stronger than she was!

Even Park eventually realized that his life was now at stake, and then he tried to get her back to the bank, but he soon saw that she couldn’t manage. No, because the currents wished otherwise; they wished to take him to Karma Falls, a fate he thoroughly deserved. But the mare, I felt sorry for her. She was quite helpless now, and they came drifting toward us just as Jonathan had said; soon they would pass us and disappear. I could see the terror in Park’s eyes; no doubt he knew what was going to happen.

I turned my head to see where Jonathan was and cried out when I saw him. He hanging from the branch, dangling over the water as far out as he could get, upside down, his legs hooked around the branch, and just as Park came immediately below him, Jonathan grabbed him by the hair and pulled him in so that he could catch hold of a branch.

And then Jonathan called to the mare.

“Come, little mare, come here!”

She had already drifted past, but she made a wild attempt to get back to him. She didn’t have that great lump Park on her back now, but she was almost sinking. Then in some way Jonathan got hold of her reins and began to tug and pull at them. it grew into a tug-of-war between life and death, for the river did not wish to let go; it wanted both the mare and Jonathan.

I grew quite wild and shouted at Park:

“Help them, you big ox, you! Help them!”

He had scrambled up into the tree and was sitting there safe and sound, quite near Jonathan, but the only thing the fool did to help was to lean forward and yell:

“Let the horse go! There are two horses up there in the forest. I can take one of those instead. Just let it go!”

You grow strong when you’re angry, I’ve always heard, and in that way you could say that Park helped Jonathan save the mare.

But afterward he said to Park:

“You blockhead, you, do you think I’d save your life so that you could steal my horse? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

Perhaps Park was ashamed, I don’t know. He said nothing and he never even asked who we were or anything. He just clambered up the slope with his poor mare, and soon afterward he and the whole troop disappeared.

We made a campfire above Karma Falls that evening, and I’m sure no campfire in any day or in any world has burned on a campsite like the one where we lit ours.

It was a dreadful place, terrible and beautiful, like no other place in heaven or on earth, I think; the mountains and the river and the waterfall, it was all too vast, all of it. Again, I felt as it I were in a dream, and I said to Jonathan:

“This can’t be real. It’s like something out of an ancient dream.”

We were standing on the bridge then, the bridge that Tengil had had built over the chasm separating the two countries, Karmanyaka, and Nangiyala, on either side of the river of The Ancient Rivers.

The river was rushing along deep down in the depths below the bridge, then throwing itself with a great roar over Karma Falls, an even deeper and more terrible chasm.

I asked Jonathan:

“How do you build a bridge over such a terrible chasm?”

“I’d like to know that, too,” he said. “And how many human lives went into building it? How many people fell down there with a cry and vanished into Karma Falls? I’d like to know that very much.”

I shuddered, thinking I could hear the cries still echoing between the mountains walls.

We were very near Tengil’s country now. On the other side of the bridge, I could see a path winding its way up through the mountains: The Ancient Mountains of Karmanyaka.

“If you follow that path, you come to Tengil’s castle,” said Jonathan.

I shuddered again, but I thought things could do what they liked tomorrow---this evening, I was going to sit by a campfire with Jonathan for the first time in my life.

We had our fire on a ledge of rock high up above the waterfall, near the bridge. But I sat with my back to everything, because I didn’t want to see the bridge over to Tengil’s country or anything else, either. I saw only the light from the fire flickering between the mountain walls, and that was beautiful and a little terrible, too. And then I saw Jonathan’s handsome, kindly face in the firelight, and the horses, which were standing resting a little way away.

“This is much better than my last campfire,” I said. “Because now I’m here with you, Jonathan.”

Wherever I was, I felt safe as long as Jonathan was with me, and I was happy that at last I could sit by a campfire with him, what he had talked about so many times when he had lived on earth.

“The days of campfires and sagas, do you remember saying that?” I said to Jonathan.

“Yes, I remember,” said Jonathan. “But then I didn’t know there were such evil sagas in Nangiyala.”

“Must it always be like this?” I asked.

He sat in silence for a while, staring into the fire, and then he said:

“No. When the final battle is over, then Nangiyala will probably again be a country where the sagas are beautiful and life will be easy and simple to live, as before.”

The fire flared up, and in the light, I saw how tired and sad he was.

“But the final battle, you see, Rusky, can only be an evil saga of death and more death. So Orvar must lead that battle, not me. For I’m no good at killing.”

No, I know that, I thought. And then I asked him:

“Why did you save that man Park’s life? Was that a good thing?”

“I don’t know whether it was a good thing,” said Jonathan. “But there are things you have to do, otherwise you’re not a human being but just a bit of filth. I’ve told you that before.”

“But suppose he’d realized who you were?” I said. “And they’d caught you?”

“Well, then they would have caught Lionheart and not a bit of filth,” said Jonathan.

Our fire burned down and the darkness sank over the mountains, first a brief dusk for a moment turning everything almost mild and friendly and soft, then a black, roaring darkness, in which you could hear nothing but Karma Falls and see no glimmer of light anywhere.

I crept as close to Jonathan as I could, and we sat there, leaning against the mountain wall, talking to each other in the dark. I wasn’t afraid, but a strange unease had come over me. We ought to sleep, Jonathan said, but I knew that I couldn’t sleep. I could hardly speak either, because of that feeling of anxiety, which had nothing to do with the dark, but something else, I didn’t know what. And yet Jonathan was there beside me.

There was a flash of lightning and then a crash of thunder, the sound of booming against the mountain walls, and then it came over us, a storm beyond all imagination, the thunder rolling over the mountains with a roar that drowned even the sound of Karma Falls, and flashes of lightning coming one after another. Sometimes the lights flared up and the next moment it was darker than ever; it was as if a night from ancient times had fallen over us.

And then there was another flash of lightning, more terrible than any of the others, flaring up and throwing its light over everything.

And then, in that light, I saw Katla. I saw Katla.

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