The Hill-King's Bride: an Allegory for the Modern Church

A New Day

Howe awoke when the king opened the door, allowing bright sunshine to fall on her. Disoriented and stiff, Howe rubbed her eyes and stood up, leaving the borrowed blanket draped over the storage chest. With her legs shaky and feet prickling from lack of circulation, Howe staggered a little as she headed toward the morning light. Immediately, the fully-armored Bryn Ma'ar reached out to assist. "Thank you," she murmured in embarrassment, "I just need a moment."

The king never wavered. "I'll show you where." Howe found herself clutching at his armored elbow as he ushered her to the hidden 'necessary'. "When you return, we'll break our fast," he promised.

Howe nodded her thanks and stepped inside the outhouse. Her mind was a whirl of confusion as she mulled over the events of the night before. It all seemed so surreal! The sense of absurdity only heightened when Howe returned to the cabin's doorway and found that the Hill-King had spread a picnic in the grass for their breakfast.

He invited her to sit with a flourish. Feeling like an impostor, Howe accepted, bemused by the food as much as by he who served it. "You know so much of me, yet I know so little about you," Howe remarked over her plate. Cold, roasted fowl complemented a bit of sweet bread and apple slices.

"You have but ask," the king invited. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her.

"Did you plan what happened last night?"

The twinkle faded from his eyes as his smile failed. "No, that was not planned, though it probably did work in my favor. Please believe that was not how I wanted us to meet, Princess."

Howe considered it. "What was your plan, then?"

That magnificent smile returned. "You mean, apart from approaching your father?" Howe nodded, not taking the bait. "It was in my heart to knock on your door at the next full moon, but I found it needful to come earlier than expected."

"Because I stayed out too late," Howe nodded.

"Because there is a storm coming either today or tomorrow, that will make travel from the mountain impassible until spring," he corrected mildly, "and the elders' greed would not allow me the luxury of waiting until then." He paused thoughtfully. "I believe, come spring, it would be wise to remind them whose hills supplied the wood they stole from you."

He'd intended to save her from freezing to death, Howe realized. She wondered if he knew that none of the villagers would have taken her in once her small supply of fuel had failed. She looked away, not wishing to lead him on. Despite his favor, she was a chaste woman and he was still a stranger to her. "It's of no consequence, either way," she murmured.

It was as if he knew what she had been thinking. "Even if you are returned to your mother's people, Princess, these hills are my lands. Best the village elders remember that, lest I tax them for the timber and game they take, the way they've taxed your gardens and firewood."

His logic made Howe feel foolish. Of course, he would take the village elders to task. A king must guard his lands and maintain his borders if he wished to remain a king. "I must say," remarked Bryn Ma'ar after Howe's silence stretched on, "I was surprised by how late you tarried at wood-gathering last night. Usually, you're quite sensible at being behind a locked door before dark."

Howe gaped and shut her mouth with a snap. "That was you trying my door at night?" Suddenly, all her fears felt so foolish.

The king's expression hardened marginally. "Rest assured, My Princess, that whenever it was not me, the one rattling your door was not animated for very long afterward."

Howe was embarrassed by the prick of tears behind her eyes as he spoke. She'd felt so alone after losing her father, had toiled so long for so little reward, that she'd been considering giving up entirely, never dreaming that she'd been protected and provided for all along by this king who so obviously loved her. "King Ma'ar, will you tell me the tale of your kingdom? I know only what the villagers say."

She paused, seeing the interest in his expression as he obviously wondered what had been said of him. "Which is not much," she continued in a wry tone, hoping to make him laugh. "I think I may be the only maid in the entire valley to have seen your face beyond what is visible through your headgear, and the tales I've heard are more conjecture than knowledge."

He did laugh at that as he gathered up the remnants of their meal. Howe helped him, vastly cheered by the quality of his mirth. The king's laughter was as his voice; a pleasant baritone with an easy warmth that drew one in. "Now that is a tale meant for traveling," Bryn Ma'ar stated with good humor. "Shall we set out, Princess?"

Howe accepted his arm as soon as his helmet was firmly in place. "It will take a bit of getting used to, I think, this being addressed as a princess," she confessed as they began to climb higher into the hills. "Never have I even dreamed of being more than Gardener Howe in all my fifteen years."

"That is your name?" His question hinted at dismay.

Howe slanted him a teasing grin. "You didn't know?" she asked playfully. "How could this be, when you know so much else about me? Who decides to take a bride whose name he doesn't know?"

His tone turned sheepish. "I never thought to ask, for that is nothing like the name your father was born with, and once I came to know who you are, your name didn't seem to matter."

"But it does matter?" Howe felt oddly disappointed, as if it meant she might no longer be found worthy of his attention.

His tone was kind and understanding as he explained. "The name Howe has many translations. In my tongue; it signifies a hollow, a valley, a deep hole in the ground. If you stay, no longer will you be a tiller of valleys, but queen of the hills. I would set you in the high places, as my bride."

Howe felt honored beyond words. "And what name would you call me, Hill-King?" she asked in all seriousness.

His tone turned thoughtful. "I don't know yet, but I will find a name worthy of you, Princess, never fear."

"With you as my guardian and protector?" returned Howe lightly, "what would I have to fear?" Despite their unusual introduction, for the first time since her father's death, Howe felt protected and accepted.