The young knight took them to a small cloistered courtyard, and into a room where an old woman was sitting at a spinning wheel.

“Lady Mirian,” he said. “I bring you guests, honoured guests of the king.”

The woman stood up and walked over to them. She was dressed simply in grey, with a large bunch of keys on her belt that jingled with every move she made. An intricately folded snow-white headscarf framed her friendly face.

“The king asked if you would take care of them, milady,” asked the knight.

He turned to Tiuri and Piak. “I have to return to the king now,” he said. “But you’ll see me again later. I will leave you in the care of Lady Mirian.”

“Such haste, Sir Ivan!” said Lady Mirian. “You have not even introduced our young guests to me. What are their names? Where have they come from?”

“Their names are Tiuri and Piak,” answered the knight. “They are messengers and they have travelled a long way.”

“Welcome, Tiuri and Piak,” said the woman warmly. “I hope that you have not brought us ill tidings.”

“May God forbid,” said the knight. “But we shall hear soon enough.” He bowed and then left the room. Tiuri watched him go. So his name was Sir Ivan, like the lord of the castle in the Hills of the Moon. Was he perhaps a member of the same family? It was possible; he certainly resembled the lord of the White Moon – but he looked even more like someone else…

“So, you’re Tiuri and Piak,” said Lady Mirian. “And where do you come from?”

“From the land of King Dagonaut, milady,” Tiuri replied.

“Well, you are a long way from home,” said Lady Mirian. “But don’t let me bombard you with questions. Look at the state of you! You must feel exhausted after such a long journey.”

“Yes, milady,” said Piak. “And also… somehow… odd… strange… overwhelmed… I don’t quite know…”

“We’ll soon put that right,” said Lady Mirian. “Come with me.”

She organized a bath for Tiuri and Piak and then brought fresh clothes: grey breeches for each of them, and white shirts with embroidered doublets over the top.

“Good,” she said, when they were dressed. “Now you look just like the squires we have running around here.”

Piak smiled and looked at Tiuri. “A squire,” he whispered.

“See for yourselves,” said Lady Mirian, and she took them to a mirror made of polished metal. Tiuri was a little surprised to see his reflection. It was a long time since he’d last seen himself. He seemed to have changed – he was thinner and his face was browner, but his eyes also looked different… more serious somehow.

Piak’s eyes widened. “Oh dear,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve ever been able to take such a good look at myself. And I think I look rather silly, especially in these clothes. Maybe they don’t suit me after all.”

They turned away from the mirror and followed Lady Mirian into the cloister, where they sat down on a bench. The garden looked delightful; white daisies and blue larkspur were blooming, and a fountain splashed away in the centre of the courtyard.

Piak sighed. “This all feels like a dream. Are we truly in King Unauwen’s palace?”

Lady Mirian laughed. “Yes, you truly are,” she said. “And Sir Ivan has asked if you would like to dine with him. I’m sure you’ll feel better after that.”

“Sir Ivan…” said Piak. “There are other knights called Ivan in this land, aren’t there?”

“Yes,” replied Lady Mirian. “This knight is the young Sir Ivan. He’s a son of Sir Ivan of the Hills of the Moon. Look, here comes his squire to fetch you.”

The two friends stood up and thanked Lady Mirian for her hospitality.

“There’s no need to thank me,” she said. “I’ll have a room made up for you, and then you can go to bed whenever you choose. Enjoy your dinner.”

As the two friends followed Sir Ivan’s squire, Piak whispered, “I keep wondering how Slither managed to reach the gate before us… if he was captured in the Hills of the Moon.”

“Sssh!” said Tiuri. Slither’s name sounded so wrong in these surroundings. And besides, at that moment he didn’t care how the spy had reached the gate before them. Slither had been caught and defeated. And Tiuri would have been happy if that was the last he ever saw or heard of him.

Sir Ivan was waiting for them in a large room with red-brown wood panelling and big windows along one side. The knight had removed his helmet and Tiuri realized who it was that he reminded him of: Sir Evan, the youngest of the Grey Knights.

The knight greeted them warmly and invited them to sit at a table by the windows. The table was laid with a white linen cloth, with elegant crockery and fine glasses. They could see the palace gardens through the window, sloping down towards the White River. The squire brought in dishes of food, filled the glasses and then left the room. Sir Ivan sat with them, but he did not eat. He was a gracious host, but he appeared to be concerned about something.

“I have heard the news,” he said after a while. “Sir Edwinem is dead. The Invincible has been defeated by treachery. Many here will be sad to hear of his passing.”

He asked the friends no questions and Tiuri wondered if he already knew more about the matter than they did. After all, they didn’t even know what the message was about. He suddenly felt so empty and downhearted.

“You must be tired,” said Sir Ivan. “I heard you had a difficult journey. All the way from the Kingdom of Dagonaut!” He paused before continuing, “You may have no desire to speak about your journey, but there’s something I would like to ask you. You have come from Dagonaut’s land, and…” He hesitated.

“Whatever it is, please feel free to ask,” said Tiuri.

“I… have a brother. Some time ago, King Unauwen sent him to your land with a message of friendship for King Dagonaut. He was to arrive there before midsummer’s day and return as soon as possible. But we have heard nothing from him since he left.”

“Sir Evan?” asked Tiuri.

“Yes, that’s his name! How did you know?”

“You look so much like him,” said Tiuri with a smile. “Or he looks like you.”

Then he told him that Sir Evan had joined the Grey Knights, who had sworn to avenge the death of Sir Edwinem. As he told the story, he forgot his sadness for a while.

Sir Ivan listened attentively and wanted to know all about the Grey Knights and the circumstances of Sir Edwinem’s death. “I am happy to hear that my brother is well,” he said, “and our father will be too. Now at least I understand why Evan has not yet returned.”

At that moment, the squire came back. “Sir Ivan,” he said, “King Unauwen requests your company.”

The knight stood up. “I must excuse myself,” he said to Tiuri and Piak, “but I shall return as soon as possible. You may view the palace as your home. If there is anything you need, please ask Lady Mirian. Your arrival here has caused quite a commotion. There is much to be done. I shall see you later.”

After he had left, the two friends sat at the table for a while, looking out of the window. The sun was setting and everything was bathed in a beautiful orange glow. They noticed some signs of the commotion that Sir Ivan had mentioned. Knights were riding across the bridge in both directions. In the palace too, they heard the sound of footsteps coming and going, and a murmur of voices, and people shouting orders.

“What do you think was in that letter?” Piak asked.

“It’s still a mystery,” said Tiuri with a sigh. “I think it was something about a threat from Eviellan, some kind of betrayal. But I don’t know what exactly.”

“What should we do now?” asked Piak. “Shall we go for a walk around the palace? I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep.”

“The garden’s a better place for a walk,” said a voice behind them.

Startled, they looked around. At the other end of the room stood a slender boy, who was clothed in every colour of the rainbow. He must have slipped in silently.

“The garden’s wonderful,” he continued. “You can sit on a wall and watch everything happening around you without having to get involved.” As he spoke, he came closer and they heard a soft jingling. Now they saw that he was not in fact a boy, even though he was so small and slight. His age was impossible to guess; he could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty years old. He had a merry, pointed face with dark, twinkling eyes and he wore a white cap with bells on it. “Good evening,” he said with a bow. “I am Tirillo, court jester to King Unauwen – the folly that serves wisdom so well! Now is not the time for jokes or banter,” he continued, “but I would invite you to accept my company and to sit with me in the garden and to talk or to be silent, whichever you prefer.”

He walked to an open window and nimbly leapt through it. Tiuri and Piak followed him and they walked together through the garden to a low wall, where they sat in silence and watched the river flowing past and the hustle and bustle on the opposite bank. Slowly, it grew dark. Here and there, lights were coming on already.

Then the jester moved, and the bells on his cap jingled. “There was once a man who saw a rainbow,” he said, “a beautiful rainbow. It stood in the sky like a high, arched bridge, with its ends touching the earth. The man said to himself, ‘I shall journey to the end of the rainbow. And then I can follow the bridge to the other side of the world…’”

“I always wanted to try that when I was younger,” said Piak. “What happened next?”

“He set off on his journey,” said the jester, “and he travelled for a long time. He passed through cities and villages, through fields and deserts, over rushing rivers and through thick forests. And, all that time, he kept looking forward to what he was going to see. He knew the place where the rainbow ended must be magnificent, beautiful… The closer he came to his goal, the more he longed to see it. But when he got there, the rainbow had vanished, and the place where it had touched the earth looked just like anywhere else. And the man was very sad. But then he thought of how many beautiful things he had seen on his journey, how much he had experienced and learnt. And he realized that what mattered was not the rainbow itself, but the search. And he returned home, with a happy heart, and he said to himself that there would be plenty of other rainbows in his future. And indeed, when he got home, there was a rainbow right above his house.”

“Is that the end of the story?” asked Piak.

The jester smiled and nodded.

“Why did you tell us that particular story?” asked Tiuri, who thought the jester must have chosen it for a reason.

“Ah, just because,” said the jester. “It’s an old, well-known story. But that’s what we jesters are like. We always tell the same old tales.”

All three of them fell silent once again. Then the jester started quietly humming. Tiuri recognized the tune. Lady Lavinia had once sung it to him at Castle Mistrinaut.

The jester stopped humming and said, “Now you feel strange and a little bit lost, because your job is done and you have no other new task as yet. And you are wondering what the message might be about, after carrying it for so long. But the meaning of the message doesn’t matter! It matters only that you delivered it safely, true to your promise, and acted with courage and determination, in spite of the dangers.”

Tiuri looked at him. He was surprised to realize that the jester was right. Now his feeling of emptiness lifted, and he became calm.

“Hmm,” said Piak quietly. “I think I’ll be able to sleep now.”

The jester hopped down from the wall. “That’s the best thing you could do,” he said. “You may well be busy again before long. Go and sleep. I shall take you to Lady Mirian.”

They walked back through the darkening gardens to the palace.

“What is Lady Mirian’s position?” Piak asked the jester.

“She runs the household,” he replied. “She makes sure that there is food on the table and that the beds are made. That makes her, without a doubt, the most important person in the palace.”

In the courtyard, they met Sir Ivan. “I was just looking for you,” he said to the friends. “I see you have been in good company. I have come to wish you farewell for the time being. The king has sent me on a mission to the south. I am about to set off.”

“To the crown prince?” asked the jester.

“To the crown prince,” replied Ivan with a nod. He turned to Tiuri and Piak. “So farewell,” he said. “If you see my brother before me, please give him my greetings. And to you too, Tirillo, my best wishes.”

“And let us hope that your best wishes are good enough,” said the jester. “That is not always the case! But jesting aside, Ivan, my good wishes go with you, and may the sun shine on your white shield.”

Sir Ivan left and Tirillo took the friends to Lady Mirian. She looked as if she had been crying, but she didn’t say a word about her sadness.

“Your room is ready,” she said. “Please come with me.”

Tirillo wished the friends goodnight and Lady Mirian took them to their room. Soon they were curled up beneath snow-white sheets on a soft bed, and sleeping soundly.