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

The Coming King

Every morning and every evening, despite the pain it caused him to hear the voice of his beloved that he could not have by his side, Bryn climbed up to where he could hear the cries of his bride best. As soon as her voice faded into the wind, he returned to the hall where his father and his chief counselor sat together and asked them if it might be time for him to fetch his bride.

As time went on, her voice was followed by the voices of others, most begging to be taken with her before the others began to punish those who called out to him. Bryn listened, knowing from those he'd sent to observe, that those who called for him did so at great expense. He vowed afresh, every time he heard them, to bring back all who'd called his name and to punish those who wanted to prevent it.

Finally, the day came when all was in readiness; he himself was fully ready in Gwyn's expert opinion and the number of those who would accompany him were fully trained and equipped. With a great sense of anticipation, he heard himself give the order for the warriors to gather together, village by village, and to meet up with the rest of the tribe at the village nearest the enemy.

The following day, he himself left his fortress, armored and ready for war. As he made ready to lead the warriors toward the muster point, he overheard a conversation that made him smile, though his helmet hid the sentiment.

"Mama," Caron said quietly. "I'll watch the little ones; you go."

"Caron," chided Rowen gently, "the council of Elders is correct; my children need me at home."

"And your daughter needs you in the valley," Caron shot back. "The girls can help me get my chores done, the same as they do at home, and they can help mind Cary and Cerdic. Baez, Olwyn and Bronwyn can stand watch in place of Tristan." Tristan, Caron's husband, was lined up with the warriors to go, Bryn knew.

War is deadly business and long experience had taught Bryn's people to prepare as if they weren't coming back. If Caron was offering to watch Rowen and Cade's young children, then she was offering to raise them in her parents' stead, should the need arise. Rowen didn't say anything. "Go get your sword," Caron urged again, "and go get my sister Maple."

Trying not to draw attention to Rowen's bit of disobedience against the council, Bryn watched her hug Caron briefly before disappearing into her house. When she came back out, she was armed, and the children were headed over toward their eldest sister, also trying not to be noticed.

Bryn knew what would happen if Rowen were found out and caught by the other elders. As a sitting elder herself, the punishment would be double since she was to be held more accountable as a leader. "Rowen!" Bryn called aloud, drawing as much attention as he could. Rowen sagged, appearing defeated. "Join ranks," the king ordered. "My bride will likely need her mother for support after her ordeal."

His grin widened at the expressions on the two guilty women's faces, but he pretended not to notice. "Your children will do well with their sister. Volunteer to remain in Rowen's place?" he called. "We need a warrior to defend in place of Rowen." No one said a word for a long moment.

Bryn saw his father draw a breath, about to volunteer, when another woman spoke up and dropped out of line. "My king, I'll stay. If it were my daughter, Rowen would be the first to trade with places with me, or with any of us." From where she'd left the line, her husband broke rank long enough to hug his wife, obviously agreeing with her.

"Thank you!" Rowen took her place in line, beside Cade, having expressed her gratitude to all involved; Caron, the volunteer and the king.

On his way past where Caron stood, Bryn raised a fist to get her attention. "Good point," he commented to let her know he'd heard the conversation. His grin only grew when she blushed.

"I'd have asked," Caron shot back, "but it just occurred to me that Ma should go. Thank you, Bryn Ma'ar."

"It's what the king is for," he reminded her, "to rescue his people in time of need." The two of them shared a chuckle before he was out of earshot. After that, the march to the farthest village was a merry one. War may be a deadly business, but for a people dedicated to the art of war and provoked by an undeserved attack, the anticipation of the fight to come put everyone in high spirits.

The young men who'd taken a rotation at spying on the enemy took great delight in describing the fortifications they'd seen, which allowed everyone to participate in discussing how best to overcome said fortifications. Bryn joined in the discussion readily, listening to the opinions and ideas that flowed freely as the warriors marched toward their muster point.

As the sun painted the western skies, Bryn was able to behold his mustered army. It was a breathtaking sight. Before Bryn had arrived, the village elders had been forced to provide an alternate site, as the town square hadn't been large enough to accommodate the entire force of warriors. They stretched out around Bryn as far as the eye could see.

He held up his hand and waited for the murmurs around him to cease. "We are many," he said, then paused so the remark could be repeated to those who might not hear. "We are strong. I want us to stay that way. Take no unnecessary risks. Let's all go home bearing good news of our princess' safe return. For tonight, rest here. Rotate guards to the outer edges of the gathering. With as many as we are, no one should have to stand watch more than a half-hour or so."

There was a smattering of chuckles at that, mostly from the older warriors who were sure to be veterans of previous campaigns. "Elders, let us meet within the village. Long strategy makes short battles." More chuckles preceded the drift of warriors in various directions.

Bryn headed for the village, ready to spend the next several hours arguing with hardheaded and opinionated elders about the wisest course of action. He wasn't disappointed, but by the time the gathering of elders called it quits, they'd formed a relatively reasonable course of action. Weary but full of hope, Bryn found a place to sleep and settled in for what remained of the night.

Come morning, the elders and Bryn enacted their plan. Slowly, quietly, each clan of the tribe took itself off to a certain place to await the signal. When the sun had reached its zenith, Bryn enacted his part of the plan. Fully armored and impervious to the arrows of the inexperienced valley-dwellers, Bryn Ma'ar walked up to the gate and knocked.

He didn't expect that anyone would answer his summons in any way he'd wish them to, nor did he expect to gain entrance to the village. Instead, his appearance, his task that day, was to distract the watch and the elders into focusing solely on him. "High Elder!" called Bryn Ma'ar as he approached the wooden stockade fence. "I would have a word with the high elder of this place!" he insisted.

"Go away!" someone on the watch replied, obviously breaking an order to say nothing. "We have nothing to say to you."

"Your people attacked me and stole my bride from my home," Bryn pointed out in a loud voice. "I would have my bride returned to me, unharmed."

An older man chuckled. "And I would have the wings of an eagle, but it looks as if we both will be disappointed. Go home, Hill-King. Be content and grateful to return with your very life."

Someone signaled Bryn that all was ready. Bryn waved a little to show he'd heard the whistle. "Open the gate and release Princess Maple of the Highest Hill, or we will destroy you," he ordered.

"Oh?" scoffed the same speaker as before, "how will you accomplish that? We're in here and you're out there."

"Who's 'we'?" chimed in a younger man. "All I see is you."

Bryn laughed. "You'd better look harder, Boy," he advised. Immediately, his people made themselves known, having surrounded the entire village wall. "We're out here for now, but it won't be long before there's nothing to stop us from walking straight in."

With that, those closest to the wall revealed pails of live coals, which they dumped on the ground at the base of the walls. Still others added dry tinder while the pail-bearers fanned the coals into flame. Soon, the wall surrounding the village was ablaze. Bryn Ma'ar had come to rescue Maple and nothing would stand in the Hill-King's way.

Bryn could hear the panicked shouts of the villagers within the wall, but above the din, he also heard the excited, joyful and triumphant call of his beloved. "Bryn Ma'ar!" Maple cried out. "I told you he would come for me. Bryn! I'm here!"