The Alder King

Sir Oluf rode his horse through the gates of Grossarl much later then he had planned. The preparations for closing his summer city mansion had taken longer than expected. His head butler, usually a dependable fellow, had been stricken with the fever, so the second butler was trying his best to fill in the details. Sir Oluf’s son, Johann, hadn’t helped the situation either. The 5-year-old seemed to have done his best to scamper beneath every piece of furniture moved to storage, to hide under every dust cloth laid over the immovable pieces, and to spring from every trunk that needed to be packed.

The child slept in Sir Oluf’s arms, sitting astride the horse and leaning against his father’s stomach. His mother and sisters had moved to the winter house earlier that week. The lateness of the day, and the energy he’d used causing mischief at the city house had tired him. They were only able to eat a small supper of cheese and bread; everything else had been packed or eaten. It wasn’t a long horse ride to the winter cottage, perhaps 8 hours south, through the thick forest south of Grossarl. Sir Oluf didn’t plan to stop for any eating during the night as they traveled.

The sun was still above the horizon when Sir Oluf and Johann entered the forest. Sir Oluf kicked his mount’s ribs, encouraging the horse to pick up the pace while they could still see without a lantern. The horse shook its head and his gait increased as if agreeing the best way to travel was as quickly as possible. The browns, yellows, and reds of the autumn trees mingled with the rich evergreen of the pines. One could never tell if the autumn evenings would be stifling or cool, Sir Oluf thought. As if in response, a cool breeze ruffled the hair on his head and tiptoes down the back of his shirt. After shivering, he enjoyed the cooling sensation that ease the unexpectedly strenuous day.

“Papa,” Johann mumbled and shifted, “Are you cold?”

Sir Oluf looked down at the top of his youngest child’s head and chuckled. “No, son,” he murmured, “The wind tickled me is all that happened.”

Silence greeted him with a response. Johann had already fallen back into slumber. The man and his son cantered along the forest road easily for a while; the sun sank lower and lower beyond the mountain peaks. The darkness began to overtake them, and Sir Oluf slowed his horse to a steady walking pace with a light touch on the reins. The crisp wind stirred the branches and leaves in the forest, interrupting the otherwise silent forest with a pleasing brushing sound. Johann stirred for a moment in his father’s lap, “What did you say, Father?”

Sir Oluf looked down quickly, “Nothing, my boy. No one has spoken.”

“Hmmm, mmmk,” the little boy responded then let his head tilt away. A few moments later, “Papa! Why do you keep talking to me? You know I am sleeping!”

“I haven’t said anything, Johann,” the father insisted.

“Yes, you were whispering to me, Father,” the boy answered, “I couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. But I’m awake now, so you may as well tell me.”

Sir Oluf blinked his eyes. “I said nothing, son.” He noted the greyness of the forest twilight, and pulled his horse to a stop for a moment. He dismounted, taking a lantern and a flint from his saddle pouch. The lantern was lit in not time, and mounted to the end of a strong alder pole. Sir Oluf remounted, and he positioned the wooden pole into a special harness he crafted for the saddle. “Now we’ve got some light!”

Johann continued to peer into the trees and the side of the road. “Papa, did you just see that man, over there in the shadows? I’ve never seen him before, but he was smiling and waving at me.”

Startled, Sir Oluf scanned the treeline. There was nothing but darkness and trees stirring in the breeze. “Nonsense, Johann. No one is out in the woods at this time of night.”

“We are,” the child commented logically.

“Well, yes, WE are,” his father explained, “But we wouldn’t be if it hadn’t taken so long to close the house, and if YOU hadn’t interrupted the workers preparing to close the mansion.”

Johann giggled, “I’m sorry, Papa. It was just so much fun to pretend we were on a ship, and pirates were forcing us to pack everything and go with them!”

Sir Oluf shook his head slowly and his chest heaved up and down once. He grimaced in the low light, unwilling to comment on how much time his son’s antics had cost him. He would discuss it with the child tomorrow when they had settled into the winter home. Johan was entirely too reckless and imaginative. It was time he began to learn his responsibilities as a man of the house. With all those daughters, Sir Oluf would need all the help he could get, and he would need it soon! All those girls! Four of them before Johann had been born. He had begun to despair ever having a son, but little Johann had come along and set his mind at ease. Strangely, Johann had been the hardest of the five children to manage. He was constantly into mischief or merrymaking, playing jokes, or telling stories that distracted the servants from their tasks. Some of his jokes were entirely too rough for his sisters to hear. No, Sir Oluf thought, the boy needed some serious lessons in discipline.

“What, Papa?” Johann asked.

Did he hear my thoughts? Sir Oluf brought his mind back to the present. “I didn’t say anything. Again. Johann, is this another one of your jokes?”

“No, Papa,” the child whispered, “I thought I heard you say you were going to take me off this horse and teach me..”

Sir Oluf’s eyes widened. Hadn’t his very thoughts been so similar just a minute ago? As he contemplated the strangeness of the boy’s comment, Johann’s small voice rose above the breeze. “Look, Papa! Look! There’s the man I saw a little while ago at the side of the road!”

Peering into the lantern light ahead of them, Sir Oluf could see nothing, and he told his son so.

“But, Papa. Don’t you see him walking backward, just the edge of the light?”

Once more, Sir Oluf squinted and examined the perimeter of the lantern’s glare. Nothing. In the morning, he definitely needed to settle his son’s imagination once and for all. For now, he decided he would play along this one last time. One last adventure. “I thought I might have seen him! Was he the man wearing the blue velvet with tall black boots?”

Johann twisted his head toward his father, a puzzled looked on his face. “No. That’s not even close to what he was wearing. Are you sure you saw something?”

Sir Oluf huffed air impatiently, “No, Johann, I’m not sure. Why don’t you just describe the man you saw!”

Johann looked ahead for a moment. “He’s very tall and slender. He has long hair the color of roasted chestnuts and his fingernails are blood red. When he turns to look at me, his face and skin are white like chalk, but his eyes are a dark grey. He always smiles and motions for me to come with him.”

Sir Olus had never heard Johann imagine such an eerie character before. It must be the darkness of the forest, and the wind moving the tress that has stirred his imagination toward darker things, the father thought. They talked no more for a long while. The horse walked briskly in the coolness. Johann has nestled against his father’s stomach again. Sir Oluf let the swaying of the horse lull him into closing his eyes for a few moments. It had been such a long day…

“Papa!” Johann screamed as sat swiftly upright.

Sir Oluf, startled out of his doze, opened his eyes in panic. “What?! What is it, Johann!”

The child was leaning far over to the right side of the saddle as if to escape some devil’s grasp. “He was right there, Papa! He almost grabbed me! He keeps saying his name is the Alder King!”

Sir Oluf rolled his eyes and took another deep breath. He’d had enough of this childishness. “Son, you are to stop this game at once!”

“It’s not a game, Papa!” Johann insisted.

“I have had enough of your games today!” his father roared. His voice seemed to bounce back beneath the cover of the trees. “Your foolishness delayed our departure today, and now we are traveling through the forest, at night, both tired and worn out. I wanted to talk to you about this tomorrow, but you have forced the topic now. I will have no more of this pretending to see bogeys, or pirates, or whatever else your imagination comes up with to drive us away from our important tasks!  Do you hear me, Johann?”

Silence. Then, “Yes, Father.”

The forest was silent except for the steps on the horse’s hooves on the peaty path. The cool breeze had ceased its blowing. Stillness surrounded them, velvety and thick, enhancing the brightness of the light circle around them. Johann sniffled a little then put his shirt sleeve to his face. He immediately put it back down, remembering he shouldn’t wipe his nose on his clothes. He was learning. Sir Olaf pinched his lips together, regretful that he had yelled at the boy, but at least his silly invention had stopped. Sir Oluf knew Johann would have forgotten all about the incident in a few days’ time. The horse walked. Sir Oluf’s head drooped. Johann relaxed one more time against his father’s torso. Quietness embraced them, even subduing the horse’s blowing and measured gait. Sir Oluf was lucky to have such a well-trained horse that knew the way to the winter cottage.

A while later, a whinny pierced the silence, and Sir Oluf almost found himself thrown from the saddle. He clenched Johann’s body to him as their mount bolted down the path, galloping south. The man pulled hard on the reins. “Whoa, you bloody fool! Whoa!  Stop!”

The stallion ignored his master and continued to gallop toward the winter house. In the near distance, he knew the edge of the forest and safety awaited them. The animal had to save his little master.

Sir Oluf continued to try to make the horse obey his commands to slow down, but it soon became apparent the animal would not respond to his signals. The horse’s flanks lathered and it stretched itself out to a full gallop, breaking the riders away from the edge of the forest and onto a clear stretch of the road. Silver moonlight lighted the landscape, showing the horse and its riders the thatched roof of a large cottage in the distance. Sir Oluf held onto his son and lowered them both over the back of the horse’s neck, just trying to stay mounted.

In a matter of minutes, Sir Oluf and Johann were borne into the gateway of the winter house. The horse slowed to a walk, sides heaving with effort. Sir Oluf gripped Johann and swung them both out of the saddle. He glared at the stallion, wondering what the devil had gotten into him. The horse behaved as if the very hounds of hell had chased them over the three miles they had covered. Then he looked at his son. “Wake up, Johann.”

He shook the boy gently. Johann’s head lolled back against his father’s arm. His eyes were closed inside his small face. The moon’s light glowed against the white skin of Johann’s cheeks. His didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t smile.

“Johann!” Sir Oluf called louder, “Wake up, son!  We’re here. I don’t want to carry you to bed!”

The child remained still and silent. Sir Oluf looked more closely at his son’s face. Some of the stable servants had reached the house yard and caught the horse’s reins. They looked curiously at the man holding his son. Sir Oluf felt a coiling in his stomach.

“What’s the matter with you, boy!” Sir Oluf shook his son harder. Still nothing. Bending his head near to the small boy’s face, he listened for any sound. Nothing. No grunt, no murmur, no breath. No breath! Sir Oluf held his hand under the boys nose. He pressed his son’s chest to his ear. No breath! No heartbeat! “Noooooooo!” He dropped to his knees, cradling the child.

The men in the yard rushed toward their employer. “Nooooo! My son is dead!  Johann!  Johann! Noooooooo”

At the edge of the forest, a willowy silhouette turned to walk into the shadows of the trees. Next to him, small hand in large fist, a child turned to walk with him.