The thick carpet of ferns undulated beneath the canopy of cypress trees like waves upon the mighty Lake. It was this time of year the powerful draw of water through the gaps in the Dam created an uncharacteristic breeze within the Cypress Forest. Though the sounds of the foliage was welcome to cover the sounds of his passing, the Valley Knight did not appreciate all the extra movement. Though the Trout Run had ended weeks ago, there were still many dangerous animals lingering in the area. Now that the large gaps in the Dam were soon to be sealed, the animal population would drop to their normal numbers.
With spear in hand and hammered iron shield on his shoulder, the Knight stalked through the ferns eyes narrowed by wariness. His concern wasn’t for dangerous animals. He had a debt to pay and the sooner done, the better! Stopping for a moment, the Knight surveyed the area and in spite of being camouflaged by thick ferns, he’d found the place required to leave payment. Giving another cautious look, once satisfied no predator lay in wait the Valley Knight set his shield beside him and leaned the spear against a small boulder. From his back, the Knight took off the small goatskin bag. Pulling out wadded grass, he then pulled free two ceramic pots and set them before the boulder.
The Knight whipped about and at his rear stood a large Pride Male Lion. Instinctively, the Knight crouched with spear at the ready but then noticed all was not as it appeared. The Lion’s mane was thick, but just as the male it drooped and was mixed with patches of gray. Though it had both eyes, they were growing cloudy and were nearly closed shut by the scars of numerous battles. The Knight could see clearly even if the Lion wanted to lunge at him, the ability to do so was long gone. This was an old warrior looking for a quite place to finally rest.
“That’s right Caretaker.” The Knight felt the skin on his entire body stretch suddenly as he fought the reflex to jump out of it. Standing beside him was his wife’s second husband, the God Qatula. “Ah, you should have seen him in his prime! He was a lot like you. However, such prowess and beauty will not last among mortal creatures.” The Knight did not relax his grip on the spear as the god in the form of an elder, moved toward the dying beast with proud unbent shoulders, bald, covered in gray and black stripes over loose wrinkled skin.
Qatula’s eyes flashed with a gentle red glow and he held out his hands as he said, “Come old one. Come with me to rest in the forest’s shade and quiet one last time.” It pained the Knight to watch the Lion take obviously difficult steps towards the god. However like the proud and dignified King it most assuredly had been, the Lion closed the gap to be embraced by the elderly looking god. The Knight knew this was just one of several forms he’d seen Qatula take. One thing he’d learned in his dealings with his wife’s often unpredictable second husband was; there always lay reason for him appearing in a particular form.
It came to the Knight the last time he’d seen Qatula as an elder was in the Realm of Death. Qatula intervened on his behalf when he refused Death's offer to become its lover. Now the God was once more in that form and in some fashion, death was near again. “Qatula as promised, I have brought your drink. You seem busy, so I will take my leave....”
His eyes still smoldering with red light the God replied, “Nonsense. You were kind enough to bring two pots. Sit and share a drink with me and this old warrior in his last hour.” The Knight was reluctant at the least. Qatula was powerful as his wife the Priestess and untrustworthy on top of it. The God had tricked and even killed him once. On the other hand, Qatula gave him invaluable advice before. Also It was the God who crafted the terrible weapons the Knight used to cut a bloody path across the earth for ten years. Last and most important, Qatula was a jealous husband who made it plain he wanted his wife back.
Knowing better than to be rude to a god, the Valley Knight sat before the boulder. Qatula smiled that razor-toothed grin the Knight never could tell was friendly or mischievous. The God sat cross-legged with his back leaning against the boulder and then beckoned for the Old Lion to come. Once more, the Knight could not suppress a wince at watching the deposed King of Beasts painfully make its way over to the God. Just as it did, the last vestiges of its once mighty strength gave out causing the Lion to collapse. Qatula gently caught the Lion’s large graying head and laid it upon his lap. With labored breathing, the Lion’s scarred eyes closed with relief.
Patting the Lion’s head Qatula remarked, “We fight so hard as mortals to make a place where we can rest our heads in peace.” The Knight looked at the scene of an old painted man with a lion’s head in his lap and was skeptical. Qatula instantly caught the look on the Knight’s face and gave a sharp laugh that caused birds to take flight and disturbed the dying lion. “Sorry about that old one.” While patting the massive head to soothe the disturbance Qatula then said, “You forget Caretaker, just like our wife I too was once mortal.”
The Knight said plainly, “Pardon me for my failing to imagine you as a mortal man.” Qatula gave a grunt and retorted, “I’ll give you that. I wasn’t exactly like you, but I certainly was mortal. Be so kind as to pour us a drink Caretaker.” The Knight did as custom required since it was he who brought the libations. Breaking the wax seal on the pot of the Aesir Chief’s Honey Meade, the Knight poured out a measured amount into the lid which also served as a drinking bowl. He then handed it to the God who reached over the lion’s head and took it without spilling a drop.
The Valley Knight had to admit, this was the first time he’d ever been near a lion that wasn’t either preparing to kill him or he hadn’t killed. After taking a full drink, Qatula remarked, “Strange isn’t it? Being so close to an enemy and not being concerned with killing one another. That’s the catch with being mortal. You’re trying so hard to survive, both you and your enemy won’t take the time to recognize moments of peace between you.”
Again, the Knight had to admit to the God’s point. In his younger days, all that mattered was; at the end of a duel or battle, him being the last standing. Not until he’d wandered into the Valley from the desert, did the Knight learn the true value of peace. At the extension of the bowl from the God, the Knight poured out another measured amount. This time, Qatula put the bowl before the mouth of the Old Lion. “Drink old one and feel your pain slip away.” The Knight watched as a tired and damaged tongue lapped up the golden liquor until the bowl was empty. The lion gave what could not be mistaken for anything less than a sigh of relief.
“See Caretaker? Sometimes, it is not a bad thing to give respite to an enemy. The key is knowing for who and when to bestow so valuable a gift.” At that moment, the Old Lion’s ragged breathing evened out to that of one resting comfortably. It even managed a powerful purr which made the ground under the Knight’s buttocks vibrate. Then the purr died down to nothing. Qatula gently laid the Lion’s head upon the ground near his feet. “Speaking of gifts....” The God tossed a bundle toward the Knight which landed before him with a heavy thud.
Wrapped inside a black cloth, were three terribly familiar items. Astonished, the Valley Knight looked to Qatula and asked, “Where did you find these?” Rolling his red eyes Qatula snapped, “I made the damn things! How could I not find them after you lost them?” On the black cloth lay his dark metal short sword, black heavy hornbow and quiver of black arrows made from feathers and bones of the semi-divine witch’s body ‘Aunt’. Upon close inspection, they were as he last saw them before their loss during the quest to return the Chief’s men to the Northlands.
“But how can this be? I lost them in the River of Death. You gave them back to me and then I gave them to my younger self!” Raising his hand to still further questions Qatula replied, “All true. But remember, the weapons you’d given your younger self were ‘new’. These are the weapons you carried for thirteen years and lost in Death’s Realm. I simply brought them back to you. Don’t think about it too hard Caretaker, lest your mortal head explode....”
Giving the God a hard look the Valley Knight barked, “Why? Why did you return them? I am finally free!” Looking thoroughly displeased with the Knight’s disposition concerning the gift, Qatula tilted his head back with those red eyes narrowed. “I returned them... because you will soon need them. Despite your annoying ability to wield my wife’s spear, you cannot call upon its powers. With your weapons, few mortals can stand against you. In the not too far future, there will be those who shall try.
Because of my interference long ago, our wife was not able to complete the transfer of her godly self into her mortal body. She exists as both which has never happened before. Though few Gods can stand against her, it is possible a mortal could kill her.”
The Knight had long been aware of this possibility. It was unimaginable taking account of a mortal who would be foolish enough to try and kill his wife. Untrustworthy as Qatula was, the God had yet to speak in half-truths concerning their wife. “Who would dare such a thing?” asked the Knight. Qatula’s near white bushy eyebrows rose in surprise at the Valley Knight’s rare display of ire. Waving a gnarled old finger before the warrior, the God made the sound scolding mothers used on errant children.
“Now, now, you know the rules. ‘Tis enough you have the warning. Naming those to come without knowing the circumstances of why they will commit their acts, will be of no help to you. You want to be of service to our wife? Reacquaint yourself with your ‘old traveling companions’. Be vigilant Caretaker. Enemies have a bad habit of appearing at the most inauspicious times.”
No sooner said, the Valley Knight had instinctively drawn his black sword. Where the Old Lion had laid to rest, now stood a massive Pride Male in his prime. This time, it’s eyes shined with the same red fire as did the God’s. The Pride Male didn’t take kindly to the murderous look in the Knight’s eyes and returned the gaze with bared fangs. “All right children, that will be enough.”
The elderly Qatula struck an ancient walking stick upon the forest floor and the ground shook as to cause leaves to fall from the trees. Both the Knight and Lion relinquished the other’s gaze but kept guarded mannerisms. “Ah, entertaining as watching you two go at it would be, you have things to do Caretaker. Have a drink.” The Valley Knight bent down to pick up the remaining bundle. Upon standing up, both the God and the Pride Male were gone. The Knight noticed both pots of liquor were gone as well. Left atop the small boulder was the pot lid filled with the golden liquor. Pausing for a moment, the Knight took up the lid and quickly downed the contents.
Shaking his head, the warrior had much to think about on the long walk home. The air still had a small remaining touch of Spring coolness to it and the Knight used the black cloth as a covering. He found the finely woven fabric was more voluminous than expected. With ease, the Valley Knight was able to enshroud himself from head to toe within the folds of the cloth. Knowing Qatula, there would be a use for this cloth as well. For five years, he’d been free of these terrible weapons and during that time he’d known peace. For an instant, the Knight wanted to curse Qatula for bringing these tools of death back into his life. Yet in the darkest part of his mind, the Valley Knight rejoiced.
To be continued....
© 2012 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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