A boy travelled through the mountains from Pamplona to Madrid.. It was winter. Snow had begun falling. The bare peaks of the Eneres Mountains were covered with snow. The giants of old that protected the Spanish people for so long against hostile tribes still guarded the plains before Madrid. The path was narrow. Below him, the Rio Taje was running fast through the deep chasm. He halted for a moment. The snow was hindering the sight and the clouds made the path no longer visible. Then, suddenly, unexpected, a cry breasted the air. The boy pressed himself against the cold wall behind him. His mind became filled with terror. Again the cry breasted the air and echoed through the chasm. What caused that cry that sounded so terrible? He had never heard such a sound. An old spirit from the dawn of the world? He had heard tales about it in Pamplona. The old men had told him stories when he was in the inn with his father. He didn't believe in them, but now he doubted. Still frightened he stood up and listed carefully. It was getting darker. Soon the sun would go down behind the clouds and he should have to sleep along the path in the snow. He knew that if I wouldn't walk along, he would die of the cold. No choice was left to him, cry or no cry, he had to go on. Slowly he stepped forward, handling the wall with his hand. Snow crackled under his boots. As sudden as they had come up, the clouds opened and showed him the way down. The last sunbeams lighted the peaks in pink and orange light. The day was at end. Aidun went on in the twilight. Silence fell over the land. The black shapes of the rocks were had to recognize, but Aidun kept on going. The moon rose and softly lit the nightly world. Before him the path bended around a large rock. He passed the rock and saw the moonlit landscape before him. Suddenly he felt a heavy blow against his chest and fell in the snow. He ached in every limb. A small thin spear sticked out of his chest, just under his left shoulder. Horrified he gazed at the thin trail of blood running over his chest into th white snow. He heard footsteps approaching. Three men clad in skins appeared. They talked a bit in an unintelligible language and then bowed over him. Before he knew what was going to happen he lied in the snow, naked and shivering with cold, too weak to even lift op his own body. The snow around was coloured red of the blood. Aidun knew he was going to die. He closed his eyes and opened them again, perhaps for the last time. He was aware that a sharp light was shining upon him. Then he heard a voice. It seemed far away and nearby as well. "Do not fear my son. Thou shalt not die at this cold bare place. Stand up and go on with thy journey, no dangers shall overcome thee for thou art my servant from this moment. Be my priest and tell all thine kindred of what happened to thee. Bring this message to thy king: he shall receive my blessing if he bathes in the river that flows through the city of Madrid. This is thy first task." "How should I call you My lord," Aidun asked in reply and the voice answered: "My name is the almighty. Name me as thou wishes." "Then I'll name thee Luna el Salvador." "So it will be. Go now my son, they are waiting for thee." The sharp light disappeared. In astonishment he looked at his body. The wound had been healed. He stood up en continued his journey to Madrid.
So ends the tale of Aidun Cian the Younger, first priest of Luna el Salvador.
So ends the tale of Aidun Cian the Younger, first priest of Luna el Salvador.
Comment