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

Lost and Found Again

"My father was a blacksmith before he lost his hand," Bryn Ma'ar said. Howe realized he was ready to continue the tale. "In return for their aid, we taught these people to make decent weapons, and then to use them. That was where my armor came from; I needed to be able to let them truly have at me without fear of death."

Howe grinned appreciatively at his wry humor. He quirked another grin in her direction. "Also, it's fairly arrow-proof, so I grew accustomed to wearing it whenever I leave my fortress. That was how I knew I'd be able to rescue you from the village over and above the Elders' objections."

"So that was how you repaid Gwyn's son- by rescuing his tribe from their enemies?"

"It seemed only right, seeing as though he rescued Father and I from our enemies," Bryn Ma'ar agreed. "Now tell me of your childhood; did your father teach you to fight?"

The idea of her father- gentle, kind, crippled, Gardener Hays- as a warrior made Howe laugh. "Father couldn't fight," she gurgled. "He was crippled in his right hand. He wouldn't have been able to hold a sword or bow any better than he could a hoe. Mother did most of the gardening while Father tended the house and wee ones."

He shook his head, denying what she'd told him. " Father and Rowen will both tell you; Rhys Broderick was to be chief of his clan one day. He was a warrior to be counted on. In fact, ask anyone not born in these hills."

"Then perhaps you have the wrong maiden after all," Howe suggested soberly. "Mother didn't know how to fight either. The elders said since neither of them could contribute to the common defense, then they had to pay more in dues than any of the other village families. When Mother grew discouraged, he always shook his head and said it was the price of having others defend us."

"As opposed to defending themselves," argued the king stubbornly. "Your mother was much darker-skinned than your father, who was much darker than any of the valley-dwellers. Where they are quite pale, you father always looked as if he'd been in the sun too long to any of them, and you, My Princess, take more after your father than your mother. You have her cheekbones and the set of her lips and brow, but your nose, your eyes, your skin and your height, you get as a Broderick. Tell me, did your father ever enquire after someone to teach you or your brothers to use a weapon at all?"

Howe nodded in remembrance. "He approached the elders during my tenth summer but they denied him and then laughed at us. Valley women do not wield weapons and Father was made sport of sorely any time he suggested anything that contradicted their ways."

"If you were to return to the cabin, I bet you'd find his weapons hidden somewhere inside," Bryn Ma'ar asserted. "It must have eaten at him dreadfully, not to be able to use them or even teach you and your brothers. If your father was not Rhys Broderick, he would never have approached the elders."

Howe chuckled ruefully. "So, all my life, I've been hill-folk and never knew it at all. It seems the story of my life to ever be the outsider; now that I am among my father's people, I still do not belong in that I don't know the things I need to know to be a part of you."

From behind them, Rowen cleared her throat, having followed and remained at a discreet distance. Howe turned to look at her. "Princess, you plan to remain the winter, at least; is that correct?" Rowen nodded once, acknowledging Howe's own nod. "Then we will take this winter to teach you what you need to know, what all of our maidens learn. If, having learned everything you would have if you'd been raised among us, you still feel as if you don't belong, then take our king up on his offer."

"Well," Howe decided slowly, "I have nothing to lose but the winter and everything to gain by it. Who shall teach me?"

"I will teach you whatever a mother would have taught her daughter, of course. As your chaperone and, if you'll allow, adoptive guardian . . ." Rowen allowed her voice to trail off, seeking Howe's approval of the title. Howe felt her eyes fill with tears; feeling wanted.

Rowen wasn't merely proposing a business offer, she was asking to adopt Howe as part of her family. Howe nodded for her to continue, not sure she could speak through a throat tightened with emotion. "I'd like to bring you back to my home. Cade and I will teach you, along with your cousins."

The king cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. "If you must remove my betrothed, I at least reserve the right to teach her to wield a sword and bow," he commented in mild tones.

Rowen laughed. "Oh, absolutely!" she gurgled. "Is it not yours as king to teach all of our young warriors? My sword will do just fine for her until one may be made, but the princess must have her own bow, and soon."

"And Cade must teach her to make her own arrows," the king agreed. He stood up, offering a hand to Howe. "Either way, the day is begun and so must we."

Rowen jumped to her feet, obviously eager to begin the day. "My king, with your permission, I'd like to go and ready a room for the daughter of my brother; and most assuredly, Cade will want to hear."

The king smiled affectionately and turned to Howe. "Cade, above all men, will welcome you as a daughter, My Princess. The love he bore your father was that of a brother, and they fought back to back as if they were one warrior after he finished his mentorship under my father."

"I'm going today?" Howe squeaked. Both the king and her aunt nodded, grinning. "Will I return here?" she asked again, feeling rather insecure and transient just then.

"Of course," the king assured her. "Your Hall is your own, which I built for you as part of your dowry."

Rowen came and put her arms around Howe. "You are ours, Princess, and we have greatly anticipated your arrival. I'm sorry that you weren't given the opportunity to anticipate coming as much as we have longed for you to, my poor, orphaned lamb!" She held Howe and sniffed, obviously crying. Howe realized she was crying too and couldn't have stopped the tears if she'd wanted to. "I should have gone and fetched you after your father died," Rowen murmured. "I'm sorry I didn't."

"Why didn't you?" Howe was crying in earnest by this time.

"I didn't realize how poorly off you were," Rowen explained. "The watch King Bryn put over you reported that you had food, the cabin was sound and you were doing well. We didn't realize that the food wasn't enough. I'm sorry, my lamb. We're here now though. You're not alone; we'll take care of you." It was exactly what Howe needed to hear. She clung to her aunt. When the two of them had calmed themselves, the king had disappeared. Rowen offered Howe a watery grin. "Come on, Lamb. Let's go meet Cade."

Howe nodded. "You said last night that he wasn't eager to be apart from you all winter. If nothing else, he'll be happy to have you back."

"Part of it was that he was annoyed not to be included," Rowen laughed. " I know you're worried about meeting him but truly, he will welcome you. You are Rhys' daughter, after all. "

As they descended from the top of the fortress, Howe shook her head ruefully. "I guess touring the fortress will wait." She sighed, feeling truly disappointed and surprised by the emotion.

"Don't be silly," Rowen denied. "I want to go and get your room ready before you come. If I'm not mistaken, Gwyn will be asked to chaperone in my absence."

A level below, Gwyn called up. "I'm right here, Rowen Dear. Bryn felt you wanted privacy with your brother's daughter, so he went to take report from the night watch. Princess, he'll be right along to continue the tour."

Rowen returned the greeting cheerfully. "Elder Gwyn, you take good care of my lamb until I come back or you'll have not only me, but Cade to answer to!"