The Land of the Silver Apples - Farmer Nancy. Страница 27

Pega drew in her breath sharply, and Jack felt his world tilt to one side. Elves were angels? Father lumped them with demons, creatures to be hated and feared.

“It happened at the beginning of the world,” said the little monk. “Adam and Eve had been driven from Paradise for eating of the tree of knowledge. Life was hard for them, poor sinners. Where once they had only to stretch out their hands to take honeycombs from the trees, now they toiled from dawn to dusk. Cold of winter and heat of summer tormented them. Dry winds withered their crops, and rain brought plague to their livestock. Even more terrible, one of their sons slew the other.”

“That was Cain and Abel,” announced Pega, who listened to Brother Aiden’s tales every chance she got.

“Yes, my dear,” the monk said. “Yet God did not entirely forget His children. He gave them good advice and He harkened to their prayers. Unfortunately, He was about to have trouble in His own home.”

“Heaven,” Pega said contentedly.

“Why don’t you keep quiet and let Brother Aiden tell the story?” said Jack.

“Among the angels was a most beautiful and glorious being called Lucifer. Alas, he was consumed with jealousy and wanted Heaven for himself, and so he made war upon God.”

“I didn’t know such things were possible,” said Jack.

“They aren’t,” said Brother Aiden. “Any fool knows God is all powerful, but Lucifer was an idiot. He recruited an army of other idiots and tried to take over.”

Jack was enchanted by the little monk’s tale, which was completely new to him. The angels sounded just like a pack of Northmen. Only, of course, God wasn’t anything like Odin. “What happened next?” he asked.

“The battle was veryshort,” said Brother Aiden. “Lucifer and his followers were tossed into Hell for all eternity, and I imagine the good angels had a victory feast afterward. Order was restored except for one little problem.”

Pega, though she was listening carefully, was still tucking away odds and ends for the journey. A chunk of salt, fennel, sage, rosemary, and thyme were layered in a small parcel. Dried sea kale and fish filled a basket.

“I was writing down this very story in the village,” said Brother Aiden. “God grant I return to finish it. There were the evil angels who followed Lucifer and the wise ones who followed God. But there was also a third group that refused to take sides. ‘We’ll wait to see how it comes out,’ they said. ‘We’re angels and above such things as war.’ They didn’t realize that the very job of angels is to come down on the side of good. There’s no room for moderates in Heaven.”

A long red bar of sunlight came in through the narrow window. The sun was setting, and for a moment all paused to watch. Jack thought about the hole that had opened up under St. Filian’s Well: Black as Satan down there,the men exploring it had said. Big enough for an army.He wondered whether they’d ever see sunlight again.

“When the war was over,” Brother Aiden continued, “God called this third group before His throne. ‘Be gone from Heaven, you lukewarm cowards,’ He said. ‘You have lost your souls through indecision. Yet because you did not take up arms against Me, I will show you mercy. You will live among My children on earth and not be cast into Hell. Your years will be long and your powers great, but your path to Heaven will be hard. My mortal children have souls, but you must create yours through suffering and good deeds.’

“With that, the lukewarm angels were sent swirling down to earth like so many autumn leaves. They landed in meadows, mud puddles, and streams. All their finery was stripped away. Their wings were gone. Though they were still as beautiful as the dawn, they felt ugly compared to what they had been. Full of sorrow, they crept into the hollow hills, far from where human eyes could see them. And there they built their halls.”

“So that’s where elves came from,” said Pega. She had finished packing, but her hands, never idle, were still busy whisking last night’s straw into a tidy heap. “Even half-fallen angels must be happy.”

“Not really,” said the little monk. “The elves live long with many pleasures, but true joy is hidden from them. In the end they fade like rainbows when the night comes on, and they reach neither Heaven nor Hell.”

“Nor are they taken into the life force to be reborn,” added the Bard. “We bards have other tales of them, but all say the elves stepped out of the living stream long ago. They’re only shadows—beautiful shadows. Most amazingly beautiful.” The old man sighed.

“To gain souls, elves must agree to endure the sorrows of humanity—hunger, illness, pain, and death,” Brother Aiden went on. “They have to do this willingly. No one can force them. Even then, an elf may not succeed, for he must also do good deeds. Kindness doesn’t occur naturally to him. He could walk by a drowning child and not think to stretch out his hand.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jack as a thought occurred to him. “Brutus called Lucy one of the Fair Folk. Does that mean—”

“I’m afraid so,” Brother Aiden said. “I suspected it all along. When I saw her dancing in the fields, when I compared her with the other village children, I knew there was a mystery about her origins. Now I’m sure of it. The Lady of the Lake would not have taken a mortal child.”

Suddenly, everything fell into place for Jack. Lucy’s selfishness, her lack of feeling for others, even her mad fantasies made sense if she was an elf and not a human.

“I suppose that explains why she was such a pain,” mused Pega.

“How can I ever get the Lady of the Lake to release her?” Jack said, thinking of Mother grieving and alone on the farm.

Her true daughter was lost, her foster child cared not a whit about her. And if Jack didn’t find the Lady of the Lake, Father wouldn’t be coming home either.

“That’s where Brutus can help you,” said the Bard, breaking into the boy’s thoughts. “He has skills few possess.”

“Oh, sure! He can roll around on the ground and pass gas.”

“Now, now. He hasn’t had a chance to show his true worth.”

Jack glared at Brutus, who was hunkered down like a large, untidy hound. The slave was practically panting with the excitement of being taken along on a quest. If we do meet a dragon, I suppose he can take the edge off its appetite,the boy thought uncharitably.

“As for weapons, he can use this,” said the Bard. The old man rummaged in the bedding chest and pulled out a long bundle tied with rope. A sour stench washed over Jack. Brother Aiden and Pega recoiled.

“By the Lady, how did you find it?” cried Brutus. His eyes shone as he knelt to accept the gift.

“Poking around. Don’t unwrap it yet,” warned the Bard. “Yffi’s been hunting it for years, tapping the walls for hidden chambers and so forth. Your mother was a wise woman as well as a queen. She knew he wouldn’t think of something so simple as a pigsty.”

“What is it?” said Jack, annoyed beyond endurance by the Bard’s obvious respect for the slave.

“Shh. We must not draw the guards’ attention.”

And, indeed, the guards were at the door. They tramped in and roughly ordered Jack, Pega, and Brutus outside. “Be gentle with them,” begged Brother Aiden, which only made the guards smile unpleasantly and shove harder. But the Bard raised his staff and sent a swirl of bedding straw around the warriors’ heads. Their smiles vanished instantly, for all knew the power of bards to drive men mad by blowing on a wisp of straw.

“You can ride with me,” the captain of the guard growled when they got to the gate. Jack frowned, remembering how his hands had been tied and how he’d been forced to run behind the horses all the way to the fortress. But there was no point holding a grudge. The Bard’s threat had at least ensured them decent treatment on the way back to St. Filian’s Well.