I have to escape, Tiuri had thought. Somehow I need to find a way to foil our enemy. I must try to defeat him, as long as he continues to plan his surprise attack along that road to the west.
But they were running to the east; they had no choice. And it was unlikely that they could escape the enemy’s clutches even then. Until now, they had been able to avoid the Red Riders, but they were close to the lands of the Men in Green, and Jaro had said they were more to be feared than the men who served the Tarnburg.
They moved as quickly as possible, constantly glancing around in fear, covered in scratches and with their clothes torn. They barely stopped to rest, pausing only occasionally to hide from pursuers, both real and imagined. But eventually, they sank down to drink from a pool and to eat some of the dried meat that Jaro had brought with him.
Nearby was a tree in blossom. Tiuri looked at it for a moment, marvelling that something so beautiful could exist in this terrible forest. Jaro yawned and wiped the sweat from his face. There was a dirty bandage around his hand.
“I did that,” Tiuri said quietly.
“What?” said Jaro. “Oh, my wound. It was my own fault. Your last attack really did take me by surprise.”
“Did you let me win on purpose?” whispered Tiuri.
“I was planning to,” replied Jaro. “But that didn’t make the fight any easier for me. I couldn’t arouse the Black Knight’s suspicions. If I had fought as I once did, just as all Red Riders fight when they want to win, maybe I would have overpowered you. I say ‘maybe’ because I no longer dare to say with any certainty that the stronger man must always win.”
The Fool whispered, “Tiuri was fighting. But what about you, friendly enemy? Were you fighting for me, too? Not against me?”
“Hush!” said Jaro. “I no longer know who I should be fighting for or against. That’s why I went on the run.”
“But you…” Tiuri began.
“Don’t say anything,” Jaro interrupted him. “Do you remember what you once said to me? That you and I owe our lives to each other, including all we might do in the future. I thought our paths would never cross again, but when they did, I knew that I…” His voice trailed off and he fell silent.
Tiuri didn’t say anything else either. Later, when they had reached a safer place, he would have a conversation with Jaro. A safer place… when would they ever be safe?
When the day was over and it became dark again, they knew they had still not come very far. But the enemy had not found them.
Jaro swore under his breath. “Look!” he said.
Tiuri and the Fool came to stand beside him. Down below, at the foot of an overgrown slope, they could see clear water flowing.
“The Green River,” whispered Jaro. “Just what I was hoping to avoid.”
Yet the surroundings did not look at all dangerous in the early morning light. They could see only part of the river; to their right, it curved to the north. On the opposite bank was a narrow strip of white, and the forest that bordered it stood motionless; not a leaf was moving.
“We’ll carry on to the east,” said Jaro, “until we’re some way past the bend. Then we can head north.”
They did as he said and after a short while they came to a path that seemed to lead to the river.
“We shouldn’t be here,” whispered Jaro, his voice faltering.
Then something darted through the bushes opposite them, parallel to the path. Was it a wild boar? But a moment later another figure followed, more slowly. It stopped and looked at them.
A Man in Green!
The Fool was about to run, but Tiuri stopped him and whispered, “Act like there’s nothing wrong!”
They stood looking at one another for a moment, the Man in Green and the three runaways. The man took a step towards them; then he seemed to change his mind, and turned around and disappeared into the trees.
“Going straight on would, of course, be foolhardy,” Jaro said quietly, “because then we’ll be following him. We don’t want to turn back and the path seems dangerous, too.”
“But we can’t stay here either,” said Tiuri. “Let’s hope he took us for servants of the Tarnburg.”
“He’s sure to be spying on us,” said Jaro. “And if you see one of them, there are usually more nearby. So he’ll have help.”
By then they had stepped out onto the path and they followed it for a while. Then Jaro stopped again.
“No!” he said. “We’re going to end up at the river and we definitely don’t want to be there.”
“They’re coming after us, too,” whispered the Fool. “Along this path.”
Then they were startled by a soft cry that came from somewhere behind him. They looked back to see another Man in Green, who was calling something to them.
Jaro’s hand flashed to the hilt of his sword. The man pointed down the track and said something else, but they couldn’t catch his words.
As if by agreement, the runaways walked calmly onwards. When they glanced back, the Man in Green was no longer there. Only then did they start running. The road went downhill and the river could not be far. Now they could all hear what the Fool had noticed earlier: the sound of hoofs!
“We’ll have to go right,” Jaro panted as they ran. “We can take on one, two, maybe three men. But there are more men than that coming after us.”
But suddenly, on their right, lots of green figures were moving among the trees. They had no choice but to head straight on.
Tiuri cast a glance over his shoulder. There they were! Red Riders came riding towards them. One of them blew his horn and answers came from all sides. The hunt was on.
And there, in front of them, was the river! The path came out at the bend, before taking a right turn and running beside the water. But they saw the Men in Green approaching from that direction. The Red Riders were racing up behind them. They couldn’t go left either, as the riverbank rose so steeply.
They were being driven into the river.
As he ran towards the water, Tiuri realized it was shallow; it would be possible to wade through.
“Stop!” cried a Red Rider.
“That’s it. We’ve had it,” panted Jaro. But, like his companions, he ran on, into the water.
The Red Riders yelled, but by the time they had reached the bank the runaways were almost on the other side.
Jaro got there first; he stopped and waited. Some of the horsemen had now also entered the water. Others raised their bows, and an arrow narrowly missed Jaro’s head.
“Keep going!” Tiuri yelled at Jaro. Jaro leapt into action and ran from the bank. Then Tiuri and Marius also reached the other side. Only a few steps separated them from the shelter of the forest.
As they darted into the trees, Tiuri stumbled. Getting back to his feet, he saw a pair of legs… then the whole man… a Man in Green had appeared in front of him, armed with a spear.
Tiuri gathered his last strength to attack him. But the Man in Green stepped aside and walked past him to the water’s edge.
“Tiuri, Tiuri!” cried the Fool.
Only then did Tiuri realize that lots of Men in Green had appeared; they were standing in a line on the bank. However, they were barely looking at him or at the Fool. Their eyes were fixed on the Red Riders, who were approaching across the river.
Tiuri did not allow himself the time to be puzzled. In an instant he was beside the Fool and running with him into the forest, where he collided with Jaro. Jaro said something, but Tiuri didn’t hear what it was, as so much noise was coming from the river.
The Red Riders and the Men in Green were fighting!
“They’re stopping them!” the Fool cried hoarsely. “They’re not allowed to come across.”
Jaro gave Tiuri a nudge. “Come on!”
They ran onwards. Tiuri’s heart was in his throat; he could hardly take anymore.
Again, though, they were stopped by a Man in Green with a spear. The three runaways looked at him, gasping for breath and ready to drop. Jaro drew his sword, but the man raised his hand and smiled. He pointed towards the river, where the sounds of fighting could still be heard, shook his head and indicated that they should follow him.
They’re helping us! thought Tiuri, but he didn’t have enough breath to say the words. His companions were in the same state, and they all followed the man in silence. Jaro looked most suspicious, though, and he kept his hand firmly clasped around the hilt of his sword.
The Man in Green stopped and pointed at a path. Then he hurried away.
“They’re helping us,” Tiuri said, out loud this time.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” growled Jaro.
The Fool said nothing, but just headed along the path.
“I don’t trust them,” Jaro added.
It had become quieter down by the river, and someone was speaking in a loud voice.
“All we can do is keep on going,” said Tiuri, following the Fool.
“And where will this path take us?” said Jaro. “Into their territory!” But he went anyway, because the sound of fighting had started up behind them again.
The Fool glanced back at Tiuri with a look of surprise and fear on his face. “Look!” he whispered.
The path took a turn and they found themselves standing in front of a strange structure, a kind of scaffold made of tree trunks.
“A watchtower!” exclaimed Jaro.
The tower was very high and consisted of a platform resting on four thick poles that stood at an angle, which were braced with thinner beams for support. A rope ladder hung down to the ground.
As they gazed up, they saw men standing on the platform. One of them came down to join them. Half sliding, half climbing, he reached them in a second. It was another Man in Green; he looked at the three of them as if meeting them here were the most natural thing in the world. Without a word, he motioned at them to climb the tower.
“Not likely!” said Jaro, taking a step back.
The man repeated his gesture. They could hear riders approaching from the river now, which removed any doubts for the Fool. He jumped onto the rope ladder and climbed up. Tiuri followed his example, and then Jaro did the same. The man stayed down below.
Up on the platform, there were two more Men in Green. One was sitting with his back towards them and didn’t even turn around to look. The other, who was standing beside the low railing, signalled that they should sit down.
The sound of horses’ hoofs came closer and closer, accompanied by the sound of angry voices.
“Lie down!” gestured the man by the railing.
The runaways did as they were told; it was all they could do. Two resounding booms right next to their ears startled them. Now they could see that the man who had not looked at them had a large drum in front of him. His friend leant over the railing and said a few words in a language Tiuri did not know.
Lots of men had gathered at the foot of the watchtower. There were wide gaps between the planks of the platform and Tiuri peered through them. He could see Red Riders down below, and Men in Green. The horsemen were talking all at once, angrily and impatiently.
“Where are they?” Tiuri heard someone say. “Let us pass…” “… escaped prisoners…”
Then the man at the railing spoke again. He was calm and composed. Even though Tiuri didn’t understand a word, his language didn’t sound entirely unfamiliar. One word was repeated a few times, spoken with emphasis, “Tehalon.”
The Red Riders were still muttering.
The Man in Green gave a brief reply and Tiuri could tell from the tone exactly what he was saying: “Go away!”
The drum gave a quick roll, as if to reinforce the words.
There was silence beneath the tower, followed by whispering – and soon the Red Riders departed, back to the south, back to the river. The Men in Green who were down below followed them.
The men on the platform turned and studied each of the fugitives in turn. They had sat up by now, and they met the men’s searching looks with some surprise.
Whoever they are, thought Tiuri, they saved us from the Red Riders. Hesitantly, he spoke up. “Thank you,” he said, “for your help! Who are you and what…” He stopped speaking, though, as the men showed no reaction to his words. They just went on staring blankly at him, as if he’d said nothing at all.
The drummer picked up a jug and handed it to the Fool, who was briefly startled. When the man smiled at him, though, he took the jug, raised it to his mouth and drank from it. As he returned it, he smiled back at the man, a little shyly. The man then offered it to Tiuri, who also drank a few gulps – it was tangy and refreshing, and it did him good. “Thank you,” he said again. But when it was Jaro’s turn, he refused to take the drink.
Then the drummer looked at his companion with a question on his face. The answer was a nod. The drummer nodded back – they appeared to understand each other without having to say anything.
Tiuri would have liked to speak, but these men gave him the impression that speech was unnecessary and superfluous.
The drummer bent over his drum again and began to tap it with his fingers, quickly and in an ever-changing rhythm. It was, thought Tiuri, as if he were telling a tale through the sounds he made – a mysterious tale that Tiuri would have liked to understand.
But as he listened to it for longer, a vague suspicion took hold of him. Now it felt as if he and his friends were in danger of being trapped within some sort of spell that would render them powerless. The sky filled with clouds, the sun disappeared, wind rustled the leaves, and fat drops of rain began to fall. He could almost imagine that the sound of the drum had brought about this change in the weather. He had heard of beings who could control the elements and summon wind and rain at will… but perhaps they weren’t just stories. Perhaps they really existed – here in the Wild Wood!
The drumming ended abruptly with a loud boom.
Tiuri jumped to his feet. The Fool was cowering; he seemed to be frightened again. Jaro moved as if he, too, were trying to shake off an enchantment. Tiuri cleared his throat and said loudly, “We’re very grateful for your help, of course. But now we should like to…”
Both men frowned and put a finger to their lips.
And then a response came from afar: more drumming. The men listened carefully.
*
Somewhere along the Green River, Piak reined in his horse and said to the Lord of Mistrinaut: “Quiet! I think I heard something.”
Tiuri stood beside one of the Men in Green at the railing on the watchtower and looked around. He could see the river through the trees, and noted that the path they’d taken continued to the north; he could see along it for quite some way. The drumming came from that direction. It stopped with a short bang.
“Boom!” went the drum on the platform, and then all was silent once again.
The Fool let out a shaky sigh. The man on the drum leant over to him and gave him a friendly nudge. This seemed to put the Fool’s mind at rest, as he smiled again.
“I want to leave!” said Jaro defiantly.
The man beside Tiuri nodded understandingly, beckoned at them to follow him and quickly climbed down from the platform. The fugitives followed. When they were at the foot of the tower, Tiuri said, “Why did you help us? Who are you? Can you understand what I’m saying?”
The Man in Green just shook his head. “Tehalon,” he said slowly, pointing to the north, where the path led. He was clearly telling them it was where they should go.
“He is showing us the way, Friend,” whispered the Fool.
Tiuri had realized that, too, but where did the path lead? He knew, though, that they had little choice but to go the way the man had pointed. In the other direction were the Green River, the Tarnburg and the Red Riders.
“Tehalon,” the man repeated, pointing once again. His friend on the tower leant over the rail and made the same gesture.
“Come on,” said Tiuri to his companions, and the three of them went the way they’d been asked – or ordered – to go.
The Men in Green watched as they walked away.