The War Hound and the World's Pain (2 page)

Through the treetops I saw clear blue sky, and sunlight warmed the glades. But no insects danced in the beams; no bees crawled upon the leaves of the wild flowers; not even an earthworm twisted about the roots, though the soil was dark and smelled fertile.

It came to me that perhaps this was a part of the globe as yet unpopulated by God, some forgotten corner which had been overlooked during the latter days of the Creation. Was I a wandering Adam come to find his Eve and start the race again? Had God, feeling hopeless at humanity’s incapacity to maintain even a clear idea of His Purpose, decided to expunge His first attempts? But I could only conclude that some natural catastrophe had driven the animal kingdom away, be it through famine or disease, and that it had not yet returned.

You can imagine that this state of reason became more difficult to maintain when, breaking out of the forest proper one afternoon, I saw before me a green, flowery hill which was crowned by the most beautiful castle I had ever beheld: a thing of delicate stonework, of spires and ornamental battlements, all soft, pale browns, whites and yellows, and this castle seemed to me to be at the centre of the silence, casting its influence for miles around, protecting itself as a nun might protect herself, with cold purity and insouciant confidence. Yet it was mad to think such a thing, I knew.

How could a building demand calm, to the degree that not even a mosquito would dare disturb it?

It was my first impulse to avoid the castle, but my pride overcame me.

I refused to believe that there was anything genuinely mysterious.

A broad, stony path wound up the hillside between banks of flowers and sweet-smelling bushes which gradually became shaped into terraced gardens with balustrades, statuary and formally arranged flower beds.

This was a peaceful place, built for civilized tastes and reflecting nothing of the War. From time to time as I rode slowly up the path I called out a greeting, asking for shelter and stating my name, according to accepted tradition; but there was no reply. Windows filled with stained glass glittered like the eyes of benign lizards, but I saw no human eye, heard no voice.

Eventually I reached the open gates of the castle’s outer wall and rode beneath a portcullis into a pleasant courtyard full of old trees, climbing plants and, at the centre, a well. Around this courtyard were the apartments and appointments of those who would normally reside here, but it was plain to me that not a soul occupied them.

I dismounted from my horse, drew a bucket from the well so that he might drink, tethered him lightly and walked up the steps to the main doors which I opened by means of a large iron handle.

Within, it was cool and sweet.

There was nothing sinister about the shadows as I climbed more steps and entered a room furnished with old chests and tapestries. Beyond this were the usual living quarters of a wealthy nobleman of taste. I made a complete round of the rooms on all three stories.

There was nothing in disorder. The books and manuscripts in the library were in perfect condition. There were preserved meats, fruits and vegetables in the pantries, barrels of beer and jars of wine in the cellars.

It seemed that the castle had been left with a view to its inhabitants’ early return. There was no decay at all. But what was remarkable to me was that there were, as in the forest, no signs of the small animals, such as rats and mice, which might normally be discovered.

A little cautiously I sampled the castle’s larder and found it excellent. I would wait, however, for a while before I made a meal, to see how my stomach behaved.

I glanced through the windows, which on this side were glazed with clear, green glass, and saw that my horse was content. He had not been poisoned by the well water.

I climbed to the top of one of the towers and pushed open a little wooden door to let myself onto the battlements.

Here, too, flowers and vegetables and herbs grew in tubs and added to the sweetness of the air.

Below me, the treetops were like the soft waves of a green and frozen sea. Able to observe the land for many miles distant and see no sign of danger, I became relieved.

I went to stable my horse and then explored some of the chests to see if I could discover the name of the castle’s owner. Normally one would have come upon family histories, crests and the like. There were none.

The linen bore no mottoes or insignia, the clothing (of which quantities existed to dress most ages and both sexes) was of good quality, but anonymous. I returned to the kitchens, lit a fire and began to heat water so that I might bathe and avail myself of some of the softer apparel in the chests.

I had decided that this was probably the summer retreat of some rich Catholic prince who now did not wish to risk the journey from his capital, or who had no time for rest.

I congratulated myself on my good fortune. I toyed with the idea of audaciously making the castle my own, of finding servants for it, perhaps a woman or two to keep me company and share one of the large and comfortable beds I had already sampled. Yet how, short of robbery, would I maintain the place?

There were evidently no farms, no mills, no villages nearby; therefore no rents, no supplies. The age of the castle was difficult to judge, and I saw no clear roads leading to it.

Perhaps its owner had first discovered the tranquil wood and had had the castle built secretly. A very rich aristocrat who required considerable privacy might find it possible to achieve. I could imagine that I might myself consider such a plan. But I was not rich. The castle was therefore an excellent base from which to make raids. It could be defended, even if it were discovered.

It seemed to me that it could also have been built by some ancient brigandly baron in the days when almost all the German provinces were maintained by petty warlords preying upon one another and upon the surrounding populace.

That evening I lit many candles and sat in the library wearing fresh linen and drinking good wine while I read a treatise on astronomy by a student of Kepler’s and reflected on my increasing disagreement with Luther, who had judged reason to be the chief enemy of Faith, of the purity of his beliefs. He had considered reason a harlot, willing to turn to anyone’s needs, but this merely displayed his own suspicion of logic. I have come to believe him the madman Catholics described him as. Most mad people see logic as a threat to the dream in which they would rather live, a threat to their attempts to make the dream reality (usually through force, through threat, through manipulation and through bloodshed). It is why men of reason are so often the first to be killed or exiled by tyrants.

He who would analyze the world, rather than impose upon it a set of attributes, is always most in danger from his fellows, though he prove the most passive and tolerant of men. It has often seemed to me that if one wishes to find consolation in this world one must also be prepared to accept at least one or two large lies. A confessor requires considerable Faith before he will help you.

I went early to bed, having fed my horse with oats from the granary, and slept peacefully, for I had taken the precaution of lowering the portcullis, knowing that I should wake if anyone should try to enter the castle in the night.

My steep was dreamless, and yet when I awoke in the morning I had an impression of gold and white, of lands without horizon, without sun or moon. It was another warm, clear day. All I wished for to complete my peace of mind was a little birdsong, but I whistled to myself as I descended to the kitchens to breakfast on preserved herring and cheese, washing this down with some watered beer.

I had decided to spend as much time as I could in the castle, to recollect myself, to rest and then continue my journey until I found some likely master who would employ me in the trade I had made my own. I had long since learned to be content with my own company and so did not feel the loneliness which others might experience.

It was in the evening, as I exercised upon the battlements, that I detected the signs of conflict some miles distant, close to the horizon. There, the forest was burning; or perhaps it was a settlement which burned. The fire spread even as I watched, but no wind carried the smoke towards me.

As the sun set I saw a faint red glow, but was able to go to bed and sleep soundly again, for no rider could have reached the castle by the morning.

I rose shortly after sunrise and went immediately to the battlements.

The fire was dying, it seemed. I ate and read until noon.

Another visit to the battlements showed me that the fire had grown again, indicating that a good-sized army was on the move towards me. It would take me less than an hour to be ready to leave, and I had learned the trick of responding to nothing but actual and immediate danger. There was always the chance that the army would turn away well before it sighted the castle.

For three days I watched as the army came nearer and nearer until it was possible to see it through a break in the trees created by a wide river.

It had settled on both banks, and I knew enough of such armies to note that it was constituted of the usual proportions: at least five camp-followers to every soldier.

Women and children and male servants of various sorts went about the business of administering to the warriors. These were people who, for one reason or another, had lost their own homes and found greater security with the army than they would find elsewhere, preferring to identify with the aggressor rather than be his victims.

There were about a hundred horses, but the majority of the men were infantry, clad in the costumes and uniforms of a score of countries and princes. It was impossible to say which cause, if any, it served, and would therefore be best avoided, particularly since it had an air of recent defeat about it.

The next day I saw outriders approach the castle and then almost immediately turn their horses back, without debate. Judging by their costume and their weapons, the riders were native Germans, and I formed the impression that they knew of the castle and were anxious to avoid it.

If some local superstition kept them away and thus preserved my peace, I would be more than content to let them indulge their fears. I planned to watch carefully, however, until I became certain that I would not be disturbed.

In the meanwhile I continued my explorations of the castle.

I had been made even more curious by the fearful response of those riders. Nonetheless, no effort of mine could reveal the castle’s owner, nor even the name of the family which had built it. That they were wealthy was evident from the quantity of rich silk and woolen hangings everywhere, the pictures and the tapestries, the gold and the silver, the illuminated windows.

I sought out vaults where ancestors might be buried and discovered none.

I concluded that my original opinion was the most likely to be true: this was a rich prince’s retreat. Possibly a private retreat, where he did not wish to be known by his given name. If the owner kept mysteries about him as to his identity, then it was also possible that his power was held to be great and possibly supernatural in these parts and that that was why the castle went untouched. I thought of the legend of Johannes Faust and other mythical maguses of the previous, uncertain, century.

In two days the army had gone on its slow way and I was alone again.

I was quickly growing bored, having read most of what interested me in the library and beginning to long for fresh meat and bread, as well as the company of some jolly peasant woman, such as those I had seen with the army. But I stayed there for the best part of another week, sleeping a good deal and restoring my strength of body, as well as my strength of judgment.

All I had to look forward to was a long journey, the business of recruiting another company and then seeking a fresh master for my services.

I considered the idea of returning to Bek, but I knew that I was no longer suited for the kind of life still lived there. I would be a disappointment to my father. I had sworn to myself long since that I should only return to Bek if I heard that he was dying or dead. I wished him to think of me as a noble Christian soldier serving the cause of the religion he loved.

On the night before I planned to leave I began to get some sense of a stirring in the castle, as if the place itself were coming to life.

To quell my own slight terrors I took a lamp and explored the castle once more, from end to end, from top to bottom, and found nothing strange. However, I became even more determined to leave on the following morning.

As usual, I rose at sunrise and took my horse from the stable. He was in considerably better condition than when we had arrived. I had raised the portcullis and was packing food into my saddlebags when I heard a sound from outside, a kind of creaking and shuffling.

Going to the gates, I was astonished by the sight below. A procession was advancing up the hill towards me. At first I thought this was the castle’s owner returning. It had not struck me before that he might not be a temporal prince at all, but a high-ranking churchman.

The procession had something of the nature of a monastery on the move.

First came six well-armed horsemen, with pikes at the slope in stirrup holsters, their faces hidden in helmets of black iron; then behind them were some twoscore monks in dark habits and cowls, hauling upon ropes attached to the kind of carriage which would normally be drawn by horses. About another dozen monks walked at the back of the coach, and these were followed by six more horsemen, identical in appearance to those at the front.

The coach was of cloudy, unpainted wood which glittered a little in the light. It had curtained windows, but bore no crest, not even a cross.

The regalia of the riders looked popish to me, so I knew I would have to be wary in my responses, if I were to avoid conflict.

I wasted no time. I mounted and rode down the hill towards them. I wished that the sides of the hill were not so steep here, or I should not have had to take the road at all. I could not, as it happened, make my departure without passing them, but I felt happier being free of the castle, with a chance at least of escape should these warriors and monks prove belligerent.