Chapter 19: The Ode

“I’m sorry I hit you with Master Herrwn’s staff, which is the symbol of wisdom and judgment and which is not ever to be used for hitting, and I will never do it again.”

Herrwn’s finely attuned ear for nuance caught an element of ambiguity in Caelym’s apology to Benyon. In an older boy, he would have thought it intentional, but he told himself that so young a child could not have the subtlety of mind to apologize for using the staff as his weapon rather than for the violence he’d done with it.

In any case, the sight of Caelym sadly picking up Hwppiddan’s empty food bowl and putting it on the shelf next to his toy horse was so pathetic that Herrwn didn’t have the heart to remonstrate further. In fact, he grew increasingly worried when the little boy sat listless and downcast through his lessons, left his noontime meal untouched, and spent the rest of the day on the stone bench in the priests’ courtyard, rocking back and forth and silently moving his lips as tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Your beloved hare is happy, I am sure, being back with its own kin, and it would want you to be happy as well.”

Caelym only shook his head as he sat on the edge of his bed that night, his dark curls tangled and the ties of his nightshirt hanging undone.

Herrwn tried a different approach. “But of course you are sad and must now put your sadness into words.”

For a long moment, Caelym remained still and silent. Then, suddenly, he jumped off the bed, mounted a small stool, drew in a long, wavering breath, and—his chin thrust forward, his arms at his sides, his hands clenched into fists—cried out, “An Ode to Hwppiddan!” and began what was to be his first original recitation in a voice that cracked with grief.

Hwppiddan, Hwppiddan, greatest of hares,

He could leap over mountains

And up and down stairs.

As brave as a bear and as quiet as a mouse,

He never ran from danger

Or pooed in the house.

Oh, Hwppiddan, Hwppiddan, my very best friend,

I wish you were here

With me once again.

If ever I see him, a shout I will give—

“I’ll love you forever,

As long as I live!”

Ending with a shuddering sob, Caelym stepped down off the stool, climbed into bed, turned his face to the wall, and pulled his blanket over his head.

Although somewhat awkward in its meter and unsophisticated in its pattern of rhyme, the poem, with its juxtaposition of the hare’s imaginary and real virtues along with the depth of feeling it conveyed and the passion with which it was delivered, was a remarkable feat for a boy not yet seven years old. After blowing out the candle in the niche above Caelym’s bed, Herrwn sat in the dark, feeling the weight of his responsibility for nurturing and molding such an amazing gift.

The next morning, Herrwn was relieved to see Caelym fully recovered. He only wished he could say the same for Olyrrwd, who remained adamant that Ossiam had acted out of malice.

As Ossiam could not be persuaded to admit to either responsibility or regret for the previous day’s misunderstanding, or to apologize for the grief that had resulted from it, Herrwn knew before he started that his efforts to mollify Olyrrwd would be to no avail.

He tried anyway, pointing out that even though Ossiam had ordered Benyon to bring Hwppiddan to be sacrificed, he surely must have meant for Benyon to obtain the proper consents before taking the hare out of the classroom—and might not have understood that it was Caelym’s pet.

Olyrrwd continued to glower as Herrwn concluded what he considered to be a well-reasoned explanation by pointing out that from Ossiam’s point of view, being sacrificed in a sacred rite was an honor for the animal involved. Resorting to a well-meaning, if clumsy, attempt at humor, he added, “And you must admit, it is a higher end than simply being killed and cooked for a common meal.”

“And were you planning to eat him?” Olyrrwd stomped out of the room before Herrwn could finish saying, “Of course not!”