Gemmell, David – Morningstar

The giant approached me as I tuned the strings. ‘You are a lover of music, eh? Good! After a fine meal there should always be music. My name is Piercollo. You play and I shall sing. Yes?’

‘I would be honoured,’ I told him. Wulf joined us, and from his small pack took a flute. He smiled self-consciously. ‘I have heard you play, Owen, and I am not as skilled. But, if you will bear with my lack of talent, I would like to take part.’What shall we play?’ I asked them, and we discussed the merits of various songs until at last we decided upon The Forest Queen’. It is not performed much in these more enlightened days, but it was a good song with a simple chorus. You know it?

She walked within the forest fair,the stars of night upon her hair,and dreamed of sorrows none could share,Elaine, the Forest Queen.

It was a song of the Before Times, when the land of the Ikenas was said to have been peopled by an elder race who knew great magic. The last Queen was Elaine who, betrayed in love, walked through the forest, becoming at last a restless spirit whose song could be heard in the rushing of the streams and the wind whispering through the branches of the trees.

I set a slow and haunting melody. After several quavering, uncertain notes, Wulf joined in. Then Piercollo sang. The children gathered around us and, after a while, began singing the chorus.

It was more beautiful than you could possibly know: the sun shining on the hollow, the whispering of the stream, the harp, the flute and the majestic voice of Piercollo ringing out in the mountains. I remember that day more brightly than any that followed, for it was full of enchantment that not even Cataplas could have duplicated.

We sang and played for more than an hour until dusk. Several of the children were asleep by the fire trench and I saw Jarek Mace stroll away from the hollow to walk to the brow of a nearby hill.

I joined him there and sat beside him. Thank God all that wailing is over,’ he muttered. ‘It was driving me insane.’I felt a great sadness come over me then. For all his charm and courage Mace had no concept of the beauty of music, nor indeed had he taken any joy in the comradeship and the closeness the music had generated. He was a man apart.

‘What are you looking for, Jarek?’ I asked him.

He shrugged. There is a castle I want to own. It stands on the cliff-tops overlooking the western sea, far down in the south.’

‘Why that castle?’Why not?’ he answered, looking away.

Changing the subject, I mentioned the wrestling bout and the incredible balance and dexterity he had shown when thrown into the air.

‘I used to be a tumbler,’ he told me, his smile returning. ‘And a juggler, and a walker upon the high rope.’You have had an interesting life.’Have I?’ he said, with genuine surprise. ‘Yes, I suppose I have. Tell me, Owen, are you happy?’ The question surprised me and I looked into his eyes, seeking any sign of mockery, but there was none. He was genuinely – at that moment – interested.

‘Yes,’ I told him. ‘Very. You?’He shrugged and turned away. ‘I will be – when I have my castle. Youknow, lusedtothinkmusicwassomesort of trick,that people only pretended to enjoy it. For me it is a meaningless series of discordant sounds. I hate it, for its beauty is denied to me.’It is a great loss,’ I agreed, ‘but did you not find the companionship agreeable? The children sitting around the fire, the woodsmoke, the security?’Ah, the romantic in you again, eh, Owen? It was just a roast sheep, my friend, on a warm afternoon. Nothing more.’I think you are wrong. I think I will remember this day all my life.’You should eat roast sheep more often,’ he said, thumping my back. Then he stood, took his bow and wandered off into the forest.

I helped Piercollo clean the pots and scrape the animal fat from the disassembled spit. He gathered the iron rods, bound them together and carried them to an enormous pack he had left under a tree.

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