C Dale Brittain - Wizard of Yurt 2 - 1993 - The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint

The Wood Nymph and the Cranky Saint

C Dale Brittain

THE WOOD NYMPH AND THE CRANKY SAINT

PART ONE The Hermitage

When it was over, the living back where they belonged—or someplace else—and

the

dead buried, I thought again of the day it all began. I wanted to keep Yurt

the

charming, bucolic, little out-of-the-way kingdom it was, but I had also

wished

for a little excitement.

A wizard should know better than to wish for something. Sometimes wishes come

true.

As Royal Wizard, arrayed in midnight-blue velvet, I was supposed to give an

air

of deep wisdom to the court proceedings. But I no longer nad the slightest

idea

what that days case was about.

My king, however, seemed to have an excellent grasp of the details. I leaned

against the wall and watched him. King Haimeric bent forward on the throne,

pulling his ermine-trimmed cloak tighter around his thin shoulders as the

late

afternoon breeze came in the open doors and windows of the great hall.

He settled his spectacles more firmly on his nose

2 C. Dale Brittain

and looked at the people before him with shrewd eyes. "So even though he

struck

you, he didn't try to deny that you had a right to bring your cows into the

field? '

"Of course he didn't deny it!" "I only struck him when he started beating me

with his stick!" "Don't listen to him! You can't believe someone who'd dig up

a

grave!" "Listen to his lies!" "Look at my leg; the bruises are there yet!"

"His

wife was the worst, and she knew she could thump me all she wanted because I

wouldn't hit a woman!" "Anyone can tell you I cleared every stump out of that

field with my own hands!"

Two dozen men and women, all from a village located five miles away, stood in

front of the throne. I still hadn't sorted out which were the claimants,

which

members of their families, and which the character witnesses they had brought

along. A young woman with straight flaxen hair was crying openly. Over to one

side, apart from the rest, a man with very broad shoulders was moodily

examining

the tiles of the fireplace as though trying to dissociate himself from the

whole

quarrel.

The knights of Yurt, ranged along the wall to help give authority to the

proceedings, looked both bored and tired, with an air of having long ago

stopped

hearing what anyone said. Even the kings burly nephew Dominic, who used to

pay

very close attention to legal cases, had wandered off, but then he had been

acting somewhat distracted lately anyway.

During pauses in the arguments, I could hear faint clangings from the

kitchen.

The smells of supper gradually became more pronounced. Several times already

a

servant had peeked around the door to see if we were done yet.

Abruptly, King Haimeric pushed aside his lap robe and stood up. "I ve heard

enough!" he exclaimed. The excited arguing of the group before him stopped

short.

"You brought this to me as a property dispute," he said sternly. "But both

your

documents of property

The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint 3

rights and your witnesses are highly suspect and highly contradictory."

"We already told you, Your Highness, that they stole our deed and substituted

a

lying fake!" one woman put in bravely.

"And it's become clear," the king continued, not even pausing for the

interruption, ' that much more than property is involved. This field has

become

the excuse for verbal abuse and for physical violence, which you know I

consider

intolerable. Some of you have even claimed that others have dug up somebody's

relative and hidden the body—don't interrupt me! And now you've told me that

the

quarrel over this field has even been the cause of a serious breach of

promise."

I had missed this final detail amid everything else, but it explained the

weeping young woman.

"If those of you who were in the wrong originally," the king continued,

"hoped

that by utter confusion you would avoid a ruling against you, you are

mistaken."

All of the principal disputants looked jubilant, as though secure in the

knowledge that not they but the others had originally been in the wrong.

But the king's next words took the smiles from their faces. "All of you are

in

the wrong. This case cannot be settled by a simple determination of right."

I certainly agreed with him there. I even had to abandon what would have been

my

own solution, to divide the field down the middle between the two

claimants—if

indeed there were only two.

The king crossed his arms and glared. "I have only one option left to me. I

am

going to swear you to peace H

The knights all straightened to attention and slapped their sword hilts

ritually.

"But in that case—" someone began.

Again the king paid no attention. "You will have to work out for yourselves

who

has the right to plow and gather, who to pasture cows on the stubble, where

4 C. Dale Brittain

your cousin is buried now, and who will many whom, but you will have to do it

without violence!"

He turned and motioned toward Joachim, the Royal Chaplain, who had been

standing

on the other side of the throne from me. A dissatisfied murmuring and

shuffling

began with the king's words but stopped immediately as the chaplain came

forward, carrying a heavy Bible in both hands.

He was as young as I and didn't even have my wizardly white beard to give an

aura of mysterious wisdom. But the absolute seriousness of his gaunt face and

his enormous and compelling black eyes always gave him an air of dignity and

authority that I knew I would never be able to equal. This was made even

worse

by the knowledge that in his case the effect was entirely unintentional.

The chaplain set the Bible on a table beside the king. "Come forward!" the

king

commanded. "Each of you, put your right hand on the Bible. Swear before God

and

the saints that you will practice violence no more, but that you will seek

peace

with these your neighbors."

With covert glances at the tall and silent chaplain, all the disputants and

all

their witnesses came forward, abashed, and swore individually. The

broad-shouldered young man came over from the fireplace to swear last of all.

"Now take each other by the hands in fellowship," the king continued. "All of

you. Take each one's hand to symbolize the peace that now exists between you."

The flaxen-haired woman, her cheeks still wet but no longer weeping, went at

once to the young man. She stopped as though abruptly shy two feet short of

him,

but he reached for her hands and said something to her. She slowly started to

smile. While the rest went back and forth, shaking each other's hands,

sometimes

with what I thought unnecessary firmness, the two stood silently, looking at

each other's faces.

The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint 5

When the whole group left a moment later, they were still holding hands.

The king, the chaplain, and I went out into the courtyard with them and

through

the gates, to watch them walk down the hill from the royal castle of Yurt.

The

sun was low and red in the west. The king continued to stare sternly after

them

until they were out of sight.

"Well," said King Haimeric in satisfaction, his usual good humor reappearing

as

soon as they were gone, I don't think well hear from them again. And that's

the

last of this month's cases. I don't know about you two, but I find giving

justice hungry work. It's hard for an old man to have to wait for supper!"

We went back into the great hall where, just in the few moments we had been

gone, the servants had illuminated the magic lamps that dated back to my

predecessor's time and brought out the trestle tables for supper. Now they

were

spreading the tablecloths and lighting the fire in the fireplace. In the

little

balcony high on the wall, the castle's brass choir tuned their instruments.

"In fact," said the king, "there shouldn't be any more urgent cases this

summer.

I think I deserve a vacation, say for a month or six weeks. How would you two

like to try running the kingdom?"

The chaplain and I exchanged surprised glances. In the two years I had been

wizard of Yurt, I had never known the king to leave his castle for more than

a

few days at a time.

"You mean," I said, "exercising royal authority—" I had only recently managed

to

make myself into a passably competent wizard, and it would certainly be a

challenge to become a competent substitute for a king.

The king smiled. "No, I wouldn't really make you two act as regents. But I am

serious about taking a vacation."

The knights and ladies of the royal court were

6 C. Dale Brittain

assembling in the hall. The queen came in, carrying the baby boy all of us

considered the most important person in the castle. His nurse hurried behind,

frustrated as usual because the queen kept stepping in to do things the nurse

felt were her proper duties.

"So you finished up the last case?" said the queen, smiling at the king

affectionately. She was less than half his age and the most beautiful woman I

had ever met in my life. "I'm sure you handled them all with justice and

wisdom."

She set the little prince down on the flagstone floor. He crawled

determinedly

to the table, took hold of a table leg, and started cautiously pulling

himself

to a standing position. His face carried an expression of intense

concentration.

The queen caught him just before he reached the tablecloth. Holding onto one

of

her hands with both of his, the prince swayed a little but remained standing

and

gave a wide smile of triumph. He already had four teeth. "Dwrg," he said.

"Did you hear that?" asked the queen in delight. "He called you 'Daddy.' "

The king seemed happy to believe it. I decided not to mention that just the

day

before the little prince had looked directly at me and indubitably said,

"Gizward."

Above us, the brass choir began to play and we went to our seats, the king at

the head of the main table and the queen, with the prince in her lap, at the

foot.

The king had said nothing to the queen in my hearing about a vacation. I

glanced

again toward the chaplain, whose place was directly across the table from

mine.

He gave a slight shrug, with no better idea than I. Could the king really be

planning to leave Yurt?

Servants brought steaming trays from the kitchen and we all began to eat, too

hungry for more than minimal conversation. It was early summer when the days

are

longest, and yet the sun was setting outside.

The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint 7

But as we reached dessert, people settled back more comfortably to talk. I

sat

at the table, as I always did, with the queen's aunt on my right side and the

king's nephew on my left.

Dominic, royal nephew and presumptive heir until the birth of the baby

prince,

was built along the lines of a bear, large and solid. The layer of fat that

had

begun to replace his muscles did not conceal the fact that plenty of muscle

still remained. Like a bear, too, he moved slowly—these last few months

especially— but there was always the suggestion that he could move very

rapidly

if he wanted to.

The Lady Maria, on the other hand, gave an impression of constant motion even

when quite still. Although, in the two years since I had come to Yurt, her

golden curls had turned a rather attractive ash gray and she had given up

lacy

gowns for dark colors and severe styles, her manner still verged on the

girlish.

"I'm always so impressed with King Haimeric when he gives judgment," she told

me. "He cuts right through to the truth!"

"He certainly had a complicated case this afternoon," I agreed.

"I'm sure it's a great help to him to have the assistance of a Royal Wizard

at

his side!" she added with a smile. "Our old wizard hardly ever assisted in

legal

affairs."

The implied insult to my predecessor, I realized, was actually supposed to be

a

compliment to me. "I can claim no credit, my lady; the settlement today was

all

the king's idea." It was interesting to hear that my predecessor had not

stood,

as I had, through long afternoons of complicated quarrels. I could appreciate

his point of view. Listening to dull court cases was not the challenge to my

magical powers I had anticipated when becoming a royal wizard.

The old wizard, who had been Royal Wizard of Yurt for a hundred and eighty

years

before me, through

8

C. Dale Brittain

five generations of kings, was still alive. He lived by himself with his

magical

roots and herbs in a little green house down in the woods. Although when I

first

came to Yurt I had negotiated a truce with him, which is about the best one

can

hope for between young and old wizards, and he had taught me some of his

herbal

magic, there were still a large number of things about him I did not know.

But the Lady Maria moved on to other topics. As dinner ended, people rose and

stood talking around the fireplace. The evening air, coming through the hall

doors laden with the scent of roses, was just cool enough to make the fire's

warmth welcome.

The king said to me, "How about some of your illusions to round out the

evening,

Wizard? I may not get a chance to see many more of them for a while."

So he really did mean to go. As I put together the words of the Hidden

Language

to shape my spells and produced a few simple but effective illusions—a golden

egg that pulsated with fire and hatched into a phoenix and then a twenty-foot

giant who strode the length of the hall while waving its club and roaring

silently—I wondered how he could bear to leave. I couldn't imagine wanting to

go

anywhere else.

n

And yet I also surprised myself by envying him. Wherever the king was going,

he

would see new people, new sights. Yurt was a wonderful place, but sometimes I

had to admit, very quietly to myself, that it could be a little dull.

I went to talk to him the next morning. Every morning that the weather was

fair

King Haimeric spent a few hours in his rose garden outside the castle walls,

weeding, pruning, trimming off faded blossoms, examining the bushes for slugs

and insects, and planning which varieties to plant or breed next. It was hard

to

The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint 9

imagine the castle without the king in it. As I came across the drawbridge, I

saw that the barred garden gate was swung open and could hear his and the

queen's voices at the far end of the garden. I proceeded slowly along the

grassy

paths, taking time to admire the roses.

Some bushes were tall and robust, others propped against tiny trellises. Some

blossoms had scores of petals and were as big as saucers, while other bushes

were covered with tiny blooms no bigger than my thumbnail. Every shade of

white,

pink and red was represented. At the far end, where the voices came from, was

a

section of yellow roses. The king had begun his rose garden when a young

prince,

but he had only started on the yellows within the last eight or ten years.

The

mingled scents from the different blossoms were almost overwhelming.

I spotted the king and queen sitting together on a bench. He looked happy and

not at all regal, with a broad-brimmed straw hat on his white head and grass

stains on his knees. A bowl of cut roses and his garden shears were beside

him.

The queen had put the baby prince down on a blanket, but he kept crawling off

it. As I watched, he reached for her skirts to try to pull himself upright.

She

reached down and lifted him into her lap with a smile of affection and

maternal

solicitude that made my heart turn over.

I had been in love with the queen since the first moment I saw her. As a

mother,

she seemed even more beautiful to me than ever. However, this was certainly

something I had never felt appropriate to tell the king. For that matter, my

feelings had also never been something to tell a woman so obviously in love

with

her husband as the queen—even if he was more than twice her age.

"I thought I saw you come in, Wizard," said King Haimeric. "Come join us. We

were just talking about our trip. And look at my new bush; the buds started

opening today."

10

C. Dale Brittain

It was one of his yellows, with pale blooms almost the color of parchment but

tinged very delicately with red on the edges. I bent down to get a faint

whiff

of scent. "So where are you going?"

"To visit my parents," the queen answered. "I think Baby Buttons here is old

enough to travel safely."

The castle without the queen in it would be even worse. "Why can't your

parents

come visit us?" I asked.

The queen laughed. "They visited here last year when their grandson was born.

And you know they hate traveling. I think they got their fill six or seven

years

ago, going around the western kingdoms trying to find someone appropriate to

marry me to—until I found someone myself r with a smile for the king.

"I'm still a little concerned about my garden," said the king. "You know,

I've

never been away from the roses in June. Some of the bushes haven t bloomed

yet,

and I'm starting to worry about them."

The little prince looked up at me from his mother's lap. He had startlingly

bright emerald eyes, the same shade as hers. He gave an unexpected chortle.

"Giz-ward," he said.

"Did you hear that?" asked the queen, so quickly that I almost wondered if he

might not have said what had seemed so clear. "He just said 'Wizard'!"

In spite of the king's concerns about leaving his rose bushes in June, the

trip

almost immediately became something for which the whole castle was preparing.

The king and queen would travel with a relatively small party: the baby's

nurse,

the queen's Aunt Maria, a few ladies, and a half dozen knights. The king was

leaving his chaplain and me behind, although we had often accompanied him on

short trips.

"You'd be bored silly in two days,' he told me with a conspiratorial smile.

"The

queen's parents are very dear people, but ... besides, I trust you to keep an

eye on Dominic."

The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint 11

Since they planned to be gone over a month, the king took the precaution of

appointing his burly nephew as regent. Prince Dominic listened to the

announcement without any apparent emotion. He merely nodded and slowly

twisted

the ruby ring he always wore on his second finger. The ring's setting was a

golden snake, with the jewel resting on its coils, and I had always felt it

would be a much better ring for a wizard than for a prince. This regency, I

thought, might be the closest Dominic would ever come to being king of Yurt,

and

I would have expected more reaction from him.

I had sometimes wondered at Dominic's calm acceptance of the birth of his

young

cousin. After all, the royal nephew had probably spent most of his life,

until

the baby was born, assuming he would someday be king. I wondered if he

planned

to revolutionize the running of the castle while the king was away and rather

hoped he didn't, for, if so, I might be the first to go.

Less than two weeks after the king and queen first announced they were going,

they were gone, riding off in the cool of the early morning accompanied by a

fanfare of trumpets. Tne whole party rode white horses with bells on their

harnesses.

Everyone had come out to say good-bye and, for several minutes as the riders

mounted, there was a great deal of laughing and calling final messages and

instructions. The baby prince, riding in a pack on his nurse's back, frowned

at

us all. Dominic alone stood stolid and dignified, as though already feeling

the

weight of his responsibilities and wanting to be sure we all knew it.

The king reined in his horse just as they all started down the hill. "Be sure

to

cut the roses every day," he told the constable. "As I already told you, it's

better to cut them in the bud than to have the blossoms all fade on the

bushes."

12

C. Dale Brittain

"Yes, you already told me, sire," said the constable respectfully, but with a

hint of an indulgent smile.

'All right, all right," said the king, who did smile before hurrying to catch

up

to the rest.

They reached the edge of the woods below the castle's hill and disappeared

from

sight with a final ringing of harness bells. The morning suddenly seemed

extremely quiet and extremely empty.

"Well, it looks like you're in charge of the castle now, Prince Dominic," I

said

to break the silence. "At least until the royal family comes back."

The regent was juggling something heavy in his hand which I recognized as the

royal seal of Yurt. "But it's not my castle, and they're not my wife and

child,"

he growled, turned on his heel, and stomped across the drawbridge into the

castle.

The staff and the Knights and ladies who were staying behind drifted back

inside, but I didn't feel like going in yet. The day had gone flat, and it

would

be at least three more days before we could expect a telephone call, telling

us

that the royal party had arrived safely at the castle of the queen's parents.

My biggest wizardry accomplishment since coming to Yurt had been the

installation of magic telephones. They were not like the magic telephones

common

down in the great City, but then, very little of my magic seemed to be like

anyone else's. This was largely due to the fact that I often had to improvise

to

compensate for all the courses at the wizards' school where I had not paid

proper attention—in this case I had managed to avoid courses in the technical

division completely—but I preferred to think it demonstrated my unique flair

and

creativity.

In the meantime, I didn't want to mope for three days, waiting for the

telephone

to ring, imagining the royal family attacked by bandits or dragons without

their

wizard there to protect them.

"Joachim," I said to the chaplain, who was also still

The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint 13

looking off across the green fields of Yurt, "let's go sit in the king's

garden

for a moment."

He gave a start, as though he had forgotten my presence, but answered calmly.

"All right, Daimbert."

We were the only people in the castle who used each other's names, being

Father

and Wizard to everyone else. We didn't always understand each other and I had

long since despaired of giving him a proper sense of humor, but we had

managed

to become friends, at least most of the time, though traditionally priests

and

wizards do not get along at all. For that matter, wizards don't usually get

along with other wizards.

We sat on the bench by the king's yellow roses. The king had been up at dawn,

pruning everything one last time before he left, so the only blooms on the

bushes were the buds that were just opening.

"Do you know what's bothering Dominic?" I asked. "I'd expected he'd be

delighted

to have a chance to act as king of Yurt."

"I think that's his problem precisely," said the chaplain. "He loves the

little

prince—everyone must love him—but Dominic had been heir apparent to the

kingdom

his entire life, and now he isn t. Being named temporary regent must

emphasize

for him that the future he'd always thought he was preparing for will never

come

to pass."

If Dominic was undergoing some sort of emotional crisis, I just hoped he

didn't

bother me with it. "Well, at least it's not us," I said cheerfully. "What

shall

we do first while the king is gone? How about if I try to discover a spell to

raise up armed men from dragons' teeth?"

Joachim stretched his long legs out in front of him and glanced at me from

deep-set eyes. "I'm afraid we have no dragons' teeth," he said, perfectly

serious. "But I have a task of my own. I received a message from the bishop

yesterday, asking me to investigate

14

C. Dale Brittain

the situation at a hermitage at the far eastern end of the kingdom."

This sounded deadly dull to me. One advantage of being a wizard rather than a

priest was that the wizards' school wasn't always giving us the

responsibility

of carrying out uninteresting tasks.

But something about this message had bothered Joachim. There was a faint note

of

concern in his voice that no one who did not know him as well as I did would

have noticed. "What's the problem?"

"I don't understand why the bishop asked me," he said, turning his huge dark

eyes fully on me. Even after two years, the effect was still intimidating.

"Why

didn't he just send one of the priests from the cathedral?"

"Maybe because the hermitage is here in the kingdom of Yurt," I suggested,

puzzled why this was important. "You're Royal Chaplain, but the cathedral is

located in the next kingdom."

Joachim shook his head. "That shouldn't make any difference. Both kingdoms

are

in the bishop's diocese.'

"Maybe the bishop thinks you'd do the best job."

He frowned at this. "The bishop should realize I have no special merits."

I expected the bishop thought the exact opposite but didn't say so. I was

still

wondering why being asked to do something which sounded simple and dull

should

bother Joachim so much, when the constable appeared, walking briskly down the

grassy path between the roses.

"I thought I'd find you here, Wizard," he said. "A message just came in on

the

pigeons for you. It's from the count."

I took the tiny cylinder from him, all that carrier pigeons could handle.

Since

the royal castle still had the only telephone in Yurt, the rest of the

kingdom

had to communicate with us via pigeons. I unrolled the little piece of paper.

Yurt had two counts and a

The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint 15

duchess; this message was from the older of the two counts. The message was,

by

necessity, brief.

"Have strange magical creature here. Don't think it represents immediate

danger,

but wish you would look at it, soon as possible."

I read it again. It made no more sense the second time.

"Look at this," I said, handing Joachim the piece of paper. "What do you

think

he means? If they 'have' a magical creature, does that mean that theyve

captured

it? Or does he mean that some nixie is flitting around the castle at night?

Any

magical creature poses potential danger, yet he claims this one doesn't—or at

least not immediately. But if it's not dangerous, why was he concerned enough

to

write me?"

Joachim shook his head, with no better idea than I.

'The count's castle is over at the eastern end of the kingdom," I said, "so

it

must be quite near your hermitage. If we go together, we can investigate both

at

the same time. All right then," turning to the constable without giving

Joachim

a chance to object. "Send the count a message to expect us. We'll leave for

his

castle as soon as I tell the regent we're going."

If nothing else, this certainly solved the problem of what to do while

waiting

to hear from the king and queen.

in

We sat under a beech tree, eating bread and cheese. Our horses, their saddles

off, grazed before us. If I had been going alone, it would have been faster

to

fly, but flying is hard mental and physical work, and I still wasn't as good

at

it as a qualified wizard really ought to be. Besides, I was glad of Joachim's

company.

"You had been starting to tell me about this hermitage," I said, brushing

crumbs

from my lap and leaning

16

C. Dale Brittain

back against the tree trunk, which rose smooth and white above us.

"Yes, but I'm beginning to wonder if I am wrong to bring a wizard into the

affairs of the church without consulting the bishop," Joachim said slowly.

I was glad I wasn't a priest. There seemed to be all sorts of things over

which

one could have moral dilemmas, none of which would have bothered me in the

slightest.

"But perhaps it's best that I have," he continued after a moment, "for the

hermitage has a magical creature of its own. The hermitage is built in a

grove

at the source of a little river. There has always been a wood nymph living

there."

I sat up straight. "How very exciting! I had no idea we had a wood nymph in

Yurt. I've never seen one before—I'll definitely have to visit this grove. So

how do she and the hermit get along? Is that what you're going to investigate?

I

wonder if it's the nymph who is annoying the count?"

He looked at me and looked away, seeming to find the idea of a wood nymph

much

less exciting than I did.

"The old wizard, my predecessor, must know about the nymph," I continued.

"I'll

ask him when we get home again. There's a lot of the old magic of wood and

earth

that he knows but which they don't teach at the school."

"My investigations have nothing to do with the nymph directly," said Joachim.

"But with you along, it may be easier to deal with her if she appears—I've

never

seen a nymph myself. The bishop nas sent me to the hermitage on a matter

C Dale Brittain - Wizard of Yurt 2 - 1993 - The Wood Nymph & the Cranky Saint

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