"Softly," whispered Hal, much moved. "Softly, good friend. He is far beyond your reach, or mine."

Alan sat down, breathing hard. As his boiling blood cooled somewhat, he realized how he had assailed the

wall of secrecy that had always surrounded Hal. He at- tempted to withdraw.

"I spoke hastily," he began. But Hal stopped him with a smile.

"Of all men that walk the land, I love you best," Hal stated, with dignity that allowed for no embarrassment.

"I have known so since we met, and I do not wish to have

any secrets from you. . . . But bear with me, for this is painful to me."

Hal slowly put on his tunic, lacing it tight before he continued. "I had better get the worst over with first.

Those wounds you saw were given to me by order of my father."

"Your father!"

Hal nodded. "There is no great love between us," he said wryly. "The man is a fiend." He forced the words out, straining. "His name is Iscovar. And he sits on the throne of the Kingdom of Isle."

For Alan, it was as if the night sky had fallen in.

Everything went black, pierced by flashes like falling stars. Involuntarily his whole body stiffened, and he drew back as if he had seen a serpent- His Jaw clenched as he stared in horror at this gray-eyed youth whom he had thought to be his friend.

Hal cried out as if he were in physical pain. "Alan, do not look at me so! By my wounds, I would rather be the most pitiful beggar m all of Isle than the son of that man!" He covered his face with his hands and bowed his head, moaning like a child who has lost the only warmth he has ever known.

Alaa went to him at once. No force of will or of men's bidding could have kept him away. Putting his arms around Hal, he spoke to him brokenly.

"I am all amazement and confusion. You should be my bitterest enemy. Yet I know you, what you are: the best man I have ever known, and the best friend. I do not

The Forest 33

know how it can be that such crop sprang from such seed.

But it is so."

Gratefully, shakily, Hal touched his hand. They sat in silence, collecting their thoughts.

Alan had good cause to hate the name of Iscovar.

King of Isle. In former times, folk said. Isle had been like a paradise. Every man served his own gods and tilled his own land, and the deer grazed up to the cottage doors.

There were kings and chieftains, to be sure. but their warriors were their comrades, and their people were their kin. When they fought, it was the high, free strife of which the bards used to sing. But for the most part they kept the peace of the High King, who rode the land with his magical sword.

Then the invaders had sailed in from the east, and not even the mighty sword had been proof against them. It was undone by sorcery, folk said, or thrown into the sea.

With ruthless force the Easterners raped Isle by way of the Black River, slaying the chieftains and herding the folk like so many cattle. So the people became slaves to the manor lords, seldom free to tend their own poor plots. And though great tracts were cleared, and the ground as fertile as it had ever been, hunger and disease stalked the land.

The Easterners came in the name of their god, the Sa- cred Son, and many were the warlocks and priests in their ranks. The leader was named Herne; he called him- self the Sacred King. He divided the conquered land among his captains, and with every new lord went a priest. To people who had suffered, these spoke of the sanctity of torment, and many believed them, for their magic was strong. Only in the west and north Heme could not take hold. In these mountainous parts lived a proud, fierce people, scions of tribal Kings and the an- cient Mothers. They could defend their rocky land for- ever against the invaders. So, since no great wealth seemed hidden in these barren parts, Herne left them to their denizens.

The Sacred King built his castle by the Black River, and in it a tower that came to be the terror of all the land. There Heme imprisoned those who had displeased him, so that their agonies might ease the torments of the Sacred Son. Polk called it the Dark Tower, or the Tower of Despair; everyone knew the place that was meant.

34 THE SILVER SUN.

Seven generations passed. Herne gave way to Hervyn, to Heinin, Hent, luchar, Idno and Iscovar. The invaders had abandoned their harsh, guttural language, by and large, for the gentler speech of Isle. Some wed Islandais women, and here and there a lord ruled who was Just, even kind, to his folk. Such lords were likely to be quickly overthrown by their more ruthless neighbors. Like their despotic Kings, most lords remained cruel.

But in the southwest of Isle, in meadow-ringed Laueroc, one such line of kindly lords had grown very powerful indeed. Perhaps Laueroc's people were akin to the war- like folk of Welas, the West Land lhat lay Just beyond the Gleaming River, where the Blessed Kings still ruled in Welden. The folk of Laucroc looked often that way, and they loved their lords. Their armies were always victors, but never aggressors.

King Iscovar, however, had turned his attention to the west. He had captured the gentle lord of Laueroc, spir- ited him to the Dark Tower and placed one of his hench- men in his stead. And years earlier, by treachery, he had conquered proud Welas. That kingdom also now must bend the knee before Iscovar and his heirs.

"Your given name is Hervoyel, then," Alan mused, still grappling with disbelief.

"Don't call me that. My mother always called me Hal."

Alan knew well, as did everyone in Isle, the story of Hal's mother. She was Gwynllian, daughter of the royal house of Welas, a tall maiden with hair the color of au- tumn forests and eyes the stormy gray-green of the au- tumn sea. Through many lands she was famed for her beauty. When Iscovar came with his vast armies and laid siege to Welden, he offered peace on one condition: that she should be his bride. He knew that her son would be heir to the throne of Welas, for the West Land reck- oned lineage in the old way, through the woman.

Torre, the Blessed King, Gwynllian's father, saw no hope for victory, but left the choice to her. Though bitter at her fate, she was proud to be the means of peace for her people. She was wed within the week. No sooner did Iscovar have her well away than his troops turned to take Welden and the whole of Welas. Torre, with his sons, fled to hiding in the mountains. The commanders of the army became the manor lords of Welas, and a noble

The forest 35

named Uiger became known as the Wolf of Welden. Is- covar went on with his bride to his castle at Nemeton.

"What did he-what did Iscovar call you, Hal?"

"Nothing. Not once in my life has he ever spoken to me by any name."

"Was there not a time," asked Alan gently, "when you were very young, perhaps, that he-favored you in some way... ."

"Never."

Hal went on to explain, as best he could, how he had lived in the court of Iscovar, King of Isle. It was a jungle of intrigue, theft, bribery, extortion and petty cruelty. He had no friends. The boys with whom he took his schooling, sons of his father's henchmen, liked to torment him with their various forms of senseless hostility. He learned early that he must take care of himself. He was strong, and he soon became a skillful, quick-witted fighter, with or with- out weapons. Yet, though he taught the school bullies to let him alone, he never fought except in defense.

This was his mother's influence; she had taught him to love peace and singing. Hal and his mother were very close, and kept much to themselves. They avoided the King, They had two faithful servants who had come from Welas with Gwynllian: an old nursemaid, Nana, and her husband, Rhys. The rest of the hundreds of servants in the castle they could not trust. Many of them were spies bribed by the various lords, or by the King himself, to spy on the lords' spies.

"When we could, we fed the widows and orphans that the King had created," said Hal bitterly, "and provided for the care of the poor, maimed wretches that emerged from his Dark Tower, Certainly he knew what we were doing, but he said nothing.' It is not his way to speak- only to torment.

"So, on my sixteenth birthday, my mother died. I was out practicing in the yard when Rhys shouted for me, and I ran in to find her in writhing torment. She grasped for me, and tried desperately to speak, but could not. She died in my arms. Obviously she had been poisoned, but no one could say by whom. The next day, with little cere- mony, she was buried. The King did not come.

"The following day, Rhys was seized in order to be flogged, then killed by the bowmen for target practice. I swallowed my pride and went to the King, begging for his

36.

THE SILVER SUN.

life. He flew into a rage at what he called my insolence, and I was taken to the Tower. I am sure now that poor Rhys's death was only for this purpose, to torment me.

The condition of my release was that I should sign a writ of obedience to the King. Even he knew that I would not break my word. When I refused to sign, I was hung in chains by my wrists and flogged. There was no daylight in that hole, but I think this went on for two days and nights.

From time to time they varied the treatment with canes, or clubs, or burning irons, but the effect was the same."

Alan looked sick, and Hal reached out to him. "Indeed, it was not as bad as it could have been. I was the heir to the throne, and the King had need. of me if his vassals were to serve him. So he could not have me blinded, or castrated, or maimed. . . . They simply flogged me. After a while it became apparent that I was growing indifferent to the flogging and that they would have to try something else, so they took me down."

Hal paused to steady himself before he continued.

"What they did next could only have come from the mind of the fiend himself. They brought before me a goodly man, handsome, near middle age but powerful and trim of body. They told me that he was to be tortured, slowly, to the death, unless I put a stop to it by signing the King's writ. At this he cried out, "Do not heed them, my Prince!"

They hit him across the face to silence him, and the blood ran down from the comer of his mouth. I stared, for to my knowledge I had never seen him before.

"They started the tortures. After a while it seemed that he was senseless, and they left the room. He spoke to me at once, urging me never to give in to the King, but to es- cape him and fight him if I could. For, as he said, I was the only hope of the people of Isle. In wonder, then, I asked him his name, and he told me: Leuin, seventh lord of Laueroc."

Alan gasped sharply, and Hal faced him with pity in his eyes- "Your father, Alan?"