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

The Hilltop

Come morning, when Howe and Rowen returned to the Common Hall for breakfast, Howe couldn't help but stare at her host. Without his armor, he seemed vastly different, even though she'd seen his face the day before. Dressed in the way of his people, Bryn Ma'ar wore a pair of undyed woolen trousers, made from the wool of a dark-colored sheep, and a shirt that tucked into a leather belt.

His armor made him appear more massive than he was, though the unarmored man was built with the musculature and frame to support the heavy iron he habitually wore. One of his hands bore a scar similar to the one on his face and neck. He looked up and caught her staring. "What?" he asked, flushing a little.

"My apologies," stammered Howe. "This is the first I've seen you without your armor. You seem . . . lighter, without it."

He chuckled. "I feel lighter without it, anyway, My Princess. Truly though, I was unarmored at supper last night."

"Says the king to the lass who fell asleep over her plate, she was so exhausted," teased Gwyn with a wink at her husband. "I doubt our princess noticed anything at all last night, save where to lay her poor head. Bryn Dear, why didn't you stay in the upper line cabin instead of half-killing your intended with travel?"

When he looked confused, Rowen gently added, "we of the hills are accustomed to such travel, My King, but my brother's daughter has barely just set foot out of the valley for the first time, and she's been ill beside."

"You've been ill?" The king's expression and voice both expressed alarm at the possibility. Howe shook her head in confusion. She hadn't been ill since the previous winter, when she'd eaten a bit of meat gone bad.

"Of course she has," Gwyn agreed immediately. " Truly Dear," she continued in Howe's direction, "you didn't come a day too soon."

"Elder Gwyn, I have been healthy all summer and fall," protested Howe in confusion. "What led you to think otherwise?"

Gwyn flustered for an answer, obviously embarrassed by the gaffe, but Rowen answered immediately. "You're so thin and pale, My Dear, and the circles beneath your eyes speak of convalescence."

Made self-conscious by the assessment, Howe flushed and looked down at her hands. Bryn Ma'ar offered a quiet explanation. "The valley elders have taxed her heavily, far beyond what they tax the others. All of what you notice can be explained by long labor unrelieved, and by the conservation of food. It wasn't just the storm that prompted me to arrive a fortnight before we'd planned. I didn't dare leave her through the winter with as little as she was allowed to keep in provision."

Rowen puffed air through her lips, obviously repressing some emotion, but Howe didn't know what. "If it hadn't been for the runners that spotted you at the line cabin, My King, I wouldn't have known to come. You're lucky I had time to ready the bath and help Gwyn get dinner ready, last eve." She winked at her charge, making Howe fell a little better. "And you have a bit of apologizing to do, Bryn Ma'ar. My Cade is quite annoyed with you."

"I shall apologize profusely as soon as my princess is settled and not apt to get lost within the fortress," Bryn Ma'ar decided immediately. "Cade is a respected warrior and always has been. The last thing I would want is for his wrath to fall on my shoulders, armored or no." His answer made everyone grin and brought a round of jesting from those who knew the man in question.

"Truly, you were blessed to be reunited with him," Yestyn observed to Rowen after the last of the jesting had faded away.

His observation brought a beauteous smile to Rowen's face. For an instant, it was as if Howe was seeing her father again. "Bryn Ma'ar is the author of that blessing," she explained to Howe. "I was carried off by the enemy tribe and Cade was badly injured. He was barely alive by the time Bryn Ma'ar found him. Together, they came after those of us who'd been stolen or scattered. He reunited the tribe one person at a time, our king did."