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

Determination

Bryn was frustrated by his injuries, seemingly at every turn. His broken arm had protected his head from serious harm, but made it impossible to even grip a sword, let alone heft it. Broken ribs also hampered him, causing stabbing pain if he tried to lift anything much with his good arm or even take a deep breath. His concussion throbbed after only a few hours in the daylight and any loud noise was agonizing.

Still though, the overwhelming need to rescue Maple drove him to push himself harder than Gwyn found wise. He knew it would take longer for his head to heal if he didn't rest, but the reports were alarming. Despite the agony they caused his head, Bryn held regular war councils with the elders.

As promised, Wynd returned three days after the attack to report back to the king. Sitting in the King's Hall, Bryn forced himself to sit upright and to keep his eyes open despite the pain. "We followed their trail down into the valley," Wynd told his audience. "I stayed for a day or two and watched to see where our princess is."

Gwyn leaned forward, obviously impatient for his news. "And?"

"They kept her tied to a post in the center of the village overnight, then tied her in a field come dawn. I'd have gone to get her then, but she couldn't even walk, let alone run. She's locked into her cabin at night."

"Does she even want to come home?" The question was from one of the other elders.

Rowen snorted her outrage. "Of course she wants to come home!" With a sheepish glance of apology at Bryn, she lowered her voice a little. "We're her family, her people."

Wynd nodded to Rowen. "She tried to escape that first day. That's how I know she couldn't walk. They weren't long in catching up to her. If she'd made it any farther up the hill, we would have intervened, but Bowen and I weren't going to be able to go up against their entire watch and she was still in the valley."

"She's kept in her cabin?" questioned Yestyn with interest. At Wynd's nod, he grinned. "Then we wait until dark, next new moon, and we go and bust her out."

Wynd only shook his head. "Thought of that," he admitted, "but they expanded the village overwinter. That little cabin sets smack in the middle of the watch now. It's behind the wall." He cleared his throat. "I had Bowen and some of the lads from the nearest village set up a regular outpost just above the valley there. I got four men on watch at a time and they rotate in from the village about once a day. Bowen'll probably be along with a report soon."

Bryn forced himself to nod. "Make sure you rotate watchmen from all the villages. That way, news will reach the entire tribe faster. Let's rotate someone back out, in place of Bowen." The pain in his head was growing harder to ignore. "And send me Bowen as soon as he gets back." Bryn blinked hard against the double image of Wynd in front of him.

Gwyn spoke up. "We'll reconvene when there's more news." She stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. To Bryn's relief, everyone left immediately, including his father. Gwyn spoke up from the doorway. "Sleep, Bryn. You won't heal without rest." He nodded, in too much pain to actually reply. She closed the door behind her. Bryn made himself comfortable on the couch and knew nothing more until Yestyn roused him for a light meal before sending him to bed.

As expected, Bowen arrived a day later and headed straight for the fortress without having to be told. Standing on the hillside, just below the retaining wall for the Garden Hall, Bryn watched him arrive. He'd discovered that it was easier on his eyes to look farther away and at a long distance, the double-vision eased considerably.

Bowen climbed the hill without a word. "My King," the young man said quietly, "My sister Maple is held against her will in the village proper, down in the near valley. During the day, the valley-dwellers make her work their fields and at night, they lock her in that . . . ramshackle cabin."