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

The Gift

"We?" enquired Yestyn with some consternation.

"Cade helped me," Howe explained, "and whenever we got stuck on some point, we asked for help. Sir, there are many that love you; none knows of the others, and each promised secrecy."

Yestyn's eyes were suspiciously moist. "Well then," he drawled, "the only thing to do is to try it on." With Gwyn's help, he buckled the 'inner boot' in place before sliding on the outer one. "Well now, don't that look fine?" he asked his wife. "New boots need to be worn for a while, don't you think?"

Before Gwyn could stand up, he braced his hand on the arm of the chair and raised himself to his feet. Gwyn stood up but didn't move. She seemed to be holding her breath as Yestyn took a hesitant step, and then another. He was halfway across the room before Howe realized she was holding her breath as well. Yestyn quickened his pace as he got a feel for the false limb.

"Father, you're walking!" The startled exclamation drew all eyes to the doorway, where the king stood in amazement. "How is this, that you have two feet?"

Yestyn laughed. "Your princess gave me a foot for Midwinter's Day. By all that's holy, the look on your face is the best part of all." Still full of mirth, Yestyn shouldered his way past his son and rejoined the assembly.

Before Howe could take a step toward the door to watch, Gwyn threw her arms around Howe. The shine on her face stood in stark contrast to her tears. "To see my husband walk on two feet is the only Midwinter's Day gift I could ever have asked for."

Howe hugged Gwyn back. "To see you happy is the same, for me."

She was aware of another pair of arms, draped over both of them. "We've tried pegs," the king added, "but we could never figure out how to keep such a short peg on a long stump. Thank you, My Princess."

Rowen cleared her throat, so the king released them. Howe released Gwyn at the same time. "You better go see," she advised. Gwyn hurried from the room. Judging from the merry sounds coming through the door, Yestyn's new boots were the subject of much celebration. Howe had no doubt that those who'd helped would receive due credit.

Smiling, she turned to the king. "My gift to you is one that requires a bit of explanation," she told him as she went to retrieve her pillowcase. The last gift she had to give had been all but forgotten in the bottom. She held the little pouch up, the packets of seeds still inside. "I can't give it to you yet though," she told him.

He grinned, obviously expecting a joke. "Why is that?" he asked.

"Because I have to plant them first and it isn't time to start seedlings yet," Howe explained, feeling as if she'd blundered her explanation, badly. She'd forgotten to tell him what was inside. Hastily, she continued. "You have to barter for vegetables, so I thought I'd plant you a garden, here at the fortress. I can tend it, the same as I tend the one I'll plant for Cade and Rowen . . ." She paused, trying without much success to corral her racing thoughts. "I'll have to trade for some seed-potatoes though. I left mine at the cabin in the valley. We'll have spinach, salad greens, carrots, onions . . ."

The king laughed. "We two think alike then, My Princess!" He hugged her again, but released her with a sheepish glance at Rowen, who's own expression was rather pointed. "I too, have made you a Midwinter's Day gift I cannot give. With Rowen's permission, I'd like to take you up to see it, though."

Together, the two of them made their way from the King's Hall, leaving through the doorway to the Common Hall, and then to a set of stairs in a corridor that would lead upward, around the Greatest Hall without having to encounter the gathering of the tribe. Clearly, the king wanted time alone with his chosen bride- at least, as alone as Rowen would allow.

At the top of the Greatest Hall, Howe discovered that the doorway to the outside had been reworked a little. Instead of being angled upward, it led straight out, and instead of the incredible view she'd expected, a second doorway set into a new-looking rock wall greeted her. Bright sunlight illuminated the wall, but Bryn Ma'ar didn't go through the doorway.

Instead, he angled their progress to the side, where a narrow flight of steps brought them to what had once been the top of the hill. The hilltop had been surrounded by a short wall and roofed over with thick glass panes. The wall was higher than the dome of glass panes, obviously hiding the shine of the glass from view.

Howe stared in wonder at the green grass that thrived under the protection of the dome. "It still gets cold at night," the king admitted, "so we've had to bring in braziers for warmth." He sighed a little. "And the days are still too short for the grass to grow much."

"You made me a garden I can grow in winter?" Howe fairly skipped around, inspecting it. Any water that fell on the glass would gather at the base of the dome, where the wall rose higher than the glass. Vents carved into the rock would channel the water to pipes, which would then direct it to the top of the grassy knoll to water the garden.

"I take that back," Howe told him in delight. "I can plant now and start the seedlings up here. Spinach, broccoli and cabbage don't mind a bit of chill or short days." Her inspection took her back to where Bryn Ma'ar was standing. Howe threw her arms around him with a hearty, "thank you!"

He held her close. "You're welcome," he murmured, and wouldn't release her until Rowen's clearing throat told Howe he was pushing it. Howe realized she would marry him. If Gwyn and Yestyn could find love together after their marriage, surely she and Bryn Ma'ar could too?

Howe looked up at him and grinned. "Want to join the celebrations?" she asked. He did, so they returned to the Greatest Hall. In the back of her mind, Howe knew they'd spend more time alone in the garden hall, in the days to come.