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

Belonging

By the time Howe had toured the entire fortress, which resembled an underground city, Rowen had been back for quite some time and had managed to pack what she figured Howe would need of her dowry. Howe took her leave of the king and his household and followed her aunt down the hill with a mixture of excitement and concern.

Would Rowen's husband welcome her as part of the family the way Rowen obviously did? What of their children, would they resent the newcomer? Rowen interrupted Howe's worries by pointing out a house that nearly faded into the hillside.

"That's our home," she said. With still a quarter-mile to go, Howe had some time to study it. Built of native stone and roofed with slate shingles, the mortar had been planted with a type of moss, which would eventually overtake the entire structure and make it blend neatly into the landscape, with the exception of the glass windows set into the walls at regular intervals.

In the valley, only the village elders had glass windows instead of shuttered wind-holes, but Howe had seen windows in enough dwellings to know that the glass wasn't uncommon here. Her trepidation was eased greatly by a man that left Rowen's house and met them at an eager lope. Howe realized he'd been watching through a window for them.

He didn't say much, merely pulled Howe into a fatherly embrace. "Come here, Little Lamb," he said in a voice made husky by emotion and held her tight for a moment. Taller than Howe's father, his embrace made her feel like a child again. "Welcome home."

"And this," Rowen said wryly, "is Cade. Husband, she needs to breathe sometime."

Sheepishly, the tall warrior released Howe. Instead of retreating entirely however, he held her at arm's length with both hands on her shoulders so he could look at her for long moments. "I see both of your parents in you," he said finally. Howe was surprised by the emotion in his voice. Overcome, he wrapped his arms around her again. "My girl," he said in a voice choked with tears. "If I'd known, I'd have come for you two years ago. I'm so sorry!"

Howe hugged him back. The scent of him, the sound of his voice and the feel of his hug reminded her of her father, made her feel as if she really were part of his family. "I'm here now, Uncle," she offered timidly, making him tighten his arms around her.

To Howe's surprise, anger colored his voice. "Bryn Ma'ar has much to answer for," her uncle declared. "He had no right to keep you from your family, nor to leave you orphaned and alone when you so clearly needed us!" He released Howe but kept an arm around her shoulders, escorting her to her new home.

"Sir, he didn't know," Howe protested, wondering why she felt so defensive. "I'm tall for my age and I look older than I am."

"And how old is that, Dear?" asked Rowen as they walked the last few yards to the stone cottage. Howe couldn't be sure, but thought Rowen sounded as if she already knew the answer.

"I'm fifteen; Mother said I was born just before the vernal equinox."

"You have been alone and trying to survive by yourself since you were but thirteen?" The anger in Cade's voice hadn't abated any on that point. "I need to speak to our king."

Rowen's sharp voice stopped her husband from following through before he'd taken more than a few steps back toward the fortress. "Cade, he was shouldering adult responsibility at fourteen and you were but sixteen when you assumed a warrior's role. Most certainly, he never thought she needed assistance and his focus has been on preparing for her as a bride. Our lamb has survived well with her adult responsibilities."

"And nearly starved to death in the attempt," growled Cade, not deterred much.

Howe cleared her throat. "And I'm younger than I appear. Perhaps he thought I was already beyond my majority?"