Steven George & the Terror
11
The Shrouded Muse
ONCE UPON A TIME, behind the ivory veil that separates our world from that of spirits and demons, there lived a proud prince named Walrath the Fierce. He was given his name because in battle there was none so brave as Walrath.
At the battle of Moritia, Walrath slew a thousand enemies in a fight that lasted from the rising of the sun to its setting on the following day. When no enemies came forth to do battle, Walrath sought them out in their hiding places. It is said that Walrath would make enemies just for the joy of slaying them.
But Walrath had a secret desire. He had kept it hidden in his heart for so long that it scarcely flickered in his eyes. But it remained a pain deep inside. When he was not out killing his enemies, Walrath sat alone in his high-walled castle brooding.
Walrath’s mother, the Queen, had long known that Walrath had a secret desire, though he had never spoken of it. She saw, as only a mother can, that something was amiss in her son from the very earliest age. When he was but a baby, he would have fits of rage and flail his fists. It was only his mother’s voice crooning lullabies to him that could soothe his soul.
Music seemed such a soothing influence on her son that the queen ordered musicians in the castle to play at all hours of the day and night. But when war threatened, the musicians were dismissed and Walrath marched into battle fiercer than before.
It was at the end of the war with Rocklaven that Walrath was changed. There was scarcely a soldier left alive in the Rocklaven monarch’s army, and wandering in the hills searching for those who fled, Walrath heard a voice. He caught just a bit of the tune and the melodic voice, and then it faded away. It was just enough for Walrath to want more. He wandered for days through the mountains and hills, catching a bit of music from “just over there” or a melody from “just beyond.” Each time he heard the music, his heart was filled with greater desire, and so he followed.
When Walrath had wandered for a full cycle of the moon, chasing after the mysterious musical voice, he found that he was deep in a strange and unknown territory. But the voice was less fleeting now and seemed much nearer, so he forged ahead. At last, he came to the mouth of a cave from which the music issued continuously. He found that he needed more courage to enter this cave than he had needed to face entire armies on the battlefield. But somehow, he found that courage from the desire buried in his heart, and he entered into the gloom of the cave.
There he found a shrouded figure playing a lute and singing in the sweetest voice Walrath had ever heard. He lay down his sword and sat before the figure, enrapt with the music she played. When at last she spoke to him, it was in dulcet tones that scarcely differed from her singing.
“What is it that you desire, Walrath the Fierce?” she asked melodically.
Now, in any court or before any king, Walrath would have shouted, “Victory!” But the smooth tones of the shrouded woman brooked no lies and Walrath searched deep in his heart for the hidden desire.
“Music,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I have always wanted to make music.”
The shrouded woman’s laughter fell like a gentle rain on Walrath’s ready ears. He felt he had never heard such a beautiful sound in his life.
“Why then, why don’t you?” asked the woman.
“I dare not,” answered Walrath. “It would make me weak. My warriors would not follow me.”
“So, you want to make music without anyone knowing it is you making music,” mused the lady. “But there is no secret music only you can hear. The delight of making music is having others listen to it.”
“You make music in secret,” responded Walrath.
“I am secret, but not my music,” answered the muse. “Perhaps that is the answer to your problem.”
The lady rose from her seat and approached Walrath, who watched in silence and peace. Whatever she did, he was content to let it happen. He marveled that he could ever know such peace in his heart.
A slender hand reached from beneath the shroud holding the singer’s lute.
“Take it,” she said. Walrath accepted the lute. “Hold it as tenderly as your lover. Caress its strings gently. If you would have it give you music, you must coax it out with kindness and love.”
Walrath hesitantly stroked the strings. The sound was harsh and he changed his grip as she spoke in her musical voice. He coaxed the lute with his fingertips and asked it as a supplicant to give him music. And, indeed, it did. The clear tone was followed by a change in Walrath. He lifted his face to the lady and a smile warmed his expression. The lady leaned over him. He felt her lips pressed against his through the thin fabric of the shroud. Then the fabric began to fall over him. It draped his figure as he sat on the ground in the cave. It darkened all that was around him.
“Now you are secret,” whispered the voice of the muse from all around him. “As long as you wear the veil, no one will know that it is you who plays the lute. No one will know it is your voice that sings the ballads. But there is one limitation that you must know. As long as you live, you will never be able to slay a musician—not in battle, or anger, or passion. Beware and know that is your true weakness.”
“I could never slay a musician anyway,” laughed Walrath.
He was ecstatic that he had found the answer to his heart’s desire beneath the shroud. But he was curious as well.
“I should like to know my benefactor,” he said pulling the shroud from around his head. But there in the cave, was only darkness. He found no one there.
Walrath wandered back through the mountains and hills with the shroud over him, learning the contours and tone of the lute and discovering how it responded to him as if he were learning the body of a lover. Occasionally, he happened upon some shepherd or farmer who paused to stare agape at the shrouded figure that passed playing heavenly music.
But when Walrath was within sight of the walls of his castle, he removed the shroud and wrapped the lute in it. Thus, he returned to his guise as Prince Walrath the Fierce.
When he entered the gates of the castle, his soldiers and servants bowed before him and rushed to do his bidding. The castle lived in fear of its master.
Walrath rushed to his chamber and carefully hid the lute and shroud. After bathing and refreshing his appearance, he emerged on the ramparts of the castle to review his troops. He had been gone and considered lost for more than two cycles of the moon, but everything seemed to be in order when he had finished his inspection.
Late that night, a shrouded figure made its first appearance on the castle walls. The music reached the soldiers below and they set out to capture the intruder. Realizing his mistake, Walrath fled, pulling the shroud from his head and wrapping it around his lute.
The next day, Prince Walrath issued a decree forbidding anyone to approach or hinder the passage of the shrouded singer. His soldiers were surprised, but when the figure appeared on the parapets again that night and the next, they made no move to hinder him. Many found themselves strangely at peace for the first time in their lives.
It was, therefore, with disappointed shock that they found Wolflok, Warlord of the Steppes had invaded the principality. Prince Walrath ordered his troops to prepare to move out. The two armies faced each other across a great field where the battle would take place. The camps were both in unrest. Men found it hard to sleep before marching to battle. Then, the shrouded musician appeared. He walked the entire length of the field playing and singing and bringing peaceful sleep to all who heard him.
In the morning, when Walrath’s army rose to do battle, they found Wolflok and his horde had left the field and returned home. A few days later, an emissary appeared at the gates of the castle escorting a beautiful princess, the sister of Wolflok.
“Wolflok, Warlord of the Steppes, sends greetings to the most feared Prince Walrath the Fierce and sues for peace between our nations,” intoned the emissary. “In token of honor for our pledge, we present to Walrath our sister, Princess Ursula, to consider for his marriage. May union between our royal houses make long the peace between our nations.”
Now, Walrath had no mind to marry, but when he saw the beautiful princess and she told him how happy she was to be considered as his bride, he thought himself a fortunate man indeed. If there was no war on the borders of his land, there would be no need for him to don his armor and leave behind the shroud of desire that he wore each night. This seemed good to Walrath and so he consented to marry the princess, with thoughts of living happily ever after.
The princess was, in fact, very willing to please Walrath, and he found his choice to be pleasurable without measure. However, late in the night, he would still rise and drape the shroud over himself to wander the ramparts and the city, playing the lute and singing.
Over the course of a year, Walrath became very comfortable with his very enthusiastic wife. The country was at peace, and Walrath got to play music every night. But Princess Ursula was clever, and it was not long before she associated the nightly music of the shrouded figure with her husband leaving the room.
She carefully probed about the singer, but Walrath was always on his guard and did not tell her anything she could use. When he grew tired of her questions, he would say, “The singer is a phantom that soothes my kingdom,” or “The shrouded singer is the spirit of all those I have killed in battle, and I must attend to it each night or have nightmares.” Each time she asked, he made up a different story, but never told her the truth.
When they had been married a year and a day, Walrath entered the royal chamber to find his wife packing her bags.
“What is the meaning of this?” Walrath asked in disbelief.
“Truly husband, you do not love me,” said Princess Ursula, “so I have decided to return to my homeland.”
“But I do love you,” said the Prince. “More than life itself.” And as he spoke the words, he realized they were true, for his wife had won him body and soul.
“You do not love me,” said Princess Ursula. “Otherwise, why would you always lie to me about the shrouded singer and desert my bed in the middle of the night? If you really loved me, you would tell me the truth.”
Now Walrath was sorely vexed. He loved his wife, but the muse had told him explicitly not to let anyone know the secret of the shroud. But, he reasoned, a husband and wife are truly one person. There is no difference between the two and should be no barriers between them. And having reasoned thus, Walrath sat with Ursula and told her all that had befallen him in the mountains.
“Now, truly, I know you love me!” exclaimed his wife. She swept the bags from the royal bed and drew him to her. Walrath slept in his wife’s arms that night and the mysterious shrouded singer did not appear on the castle’s walls.
When Walrath awoke in the morning, he felt refreshed and alive as he had never been before. He felt as though he was a free man; that his spirit had transcended the mortal and was bound to a new height.
Then he found that the Princess was not in bed with him. He searched through the chamber, but she was not there. He went to the kitchens and the gardens, to the stables and the kennels, but the Princess was not there. Princess Ursula had, in fact, left in the middle of the night when Walrath slept and the castle guards waited for the shrouded singer to appear.
What was worse, she had stolen the shroud and lute from Walrath’s hiding place.
Walrath despaired. He retired to his chamber and refused to emerge. With the shrouded singer missing from the ramparts of the castle, the soldiers and villagers alike began to worry and to bicker among themselves. As the Prince continued to build his rage alone in his chamber, fights broke out on the streets and in the barracks. Even though there was no war, there was also no peace. When Prince Walrath the Fierce emerged from his chamber, he was angrier and more vengeful than he had ever been before. He rallied his troops and rode at their head toward the Steppes, there to do battle with Wolflok, to regain his princess.
Wolflok was already there and waiting. They came to face each other at the same field where the mysterious shrouded musician had played over a year before.
The camps were restless. No sleep came to them and the shrouded singer did not appear between the camps to lull them to sleep. When morning came, Walrath strode onto the field of battle with his banner raised high and his sword drawn. But as the armies closed to do battle, Walrath heard something new. Wolflok’s entire army was whistling a marching tune as they came to meet Walrath’s army. Walrath found his sword arm paralyzed. He faced soldiers coming toward him with swords drawn, but could not fight them because they whistled a tune. They were musicians, and they cut through Walrath’s army clean as a whistle.
Before the Prince fell, he knew for a fact that his wife had betrayed him, for he saw at the top of a hill behind the opposing army, the shrouded figure of a singer, silhouetted against the darkening sky.
It is said that the shrouded muse still roams the hills of that kingdom, and that those who hear her music, hear also the screams of the dying Prince.
Chills ran down Steven’s spine as he stared at the weaver. For the first time since he met him, the weaver smiled at Steven.
“Your turn,” Zurbaran said, folding his arms.
Steven swallowed more wine and then began his story.
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