A Moment in Time

by Bertrice Small

  "The child is Prince Anwyl without question, my good lord," Cynbel of Teifi said silkily. "Dyfed's heir has most assuredly been restored to us, but I question the wisdom of allowing him to return to Gwent."

  "Why is that, my lord Cynbel?" Rhiannon asked coldly. "Do you feel perhaps that my son would be safest in your gentle daughter's tender care, as opposed to the care given him by Elaine and Teirnyon?" There were snickers from those gathered, and sly looks were directed at Bronwyn as Rhiannon continued. "Your daughter may have Pwyll of Dyfed to husband if that is what they both choose, but she will never have care of my child. He returns to Gwent!"

  "Where," Teirnyon told them all, "he will be zealously guarded and kept safe from all harm until the day comes that he inherits Dyfed from his father." The lord of Gwent smiled toothily at Cynbel and his daughter.

  "It is the custom of my people," Rhiannon now said, "that a man or a woman unhappy in their marriage union may dissolve that union by merely releasing their partner from his or her vows. So I release you of the vows we made together in my father's court those six long years ago, Pwyll of Dyfed. I am no longer your wife. You are no longer my husband."

  Pwyll nodded wordlessly, his shoulders slumping in a final defeat. "Our son, Anwyl, will have his inheritance of me nonetheless, Rhiannon," he promised her.

  "What of my children?" hissed Bronwyn furiously. "Are they to have nothing so this half-breed may have everything?"

  A monstrous clap of thunder shook the hall menacingly. A cloud of violet-blue mist sprang up directly in the center of the room and, with gasps of sheer fright, most of the court stepped back. The cloud dispersed as magically as it had appeared and a regal young woman whose golden hair was plaited into seven braids, each of which was woven with glittering jewels, and whose gown shimmered with light, stood before them.

  Rhiannon could not help the faint smile that touched her own lips as her younger sister, now Queen of the Fair Folk, made a most dramatic entrance. Her heart swelled with joy to see her sibling once again, for she had never believed that she would.

  "I am Angharad, Queen of the Fair Folk of the Forest and the Lake," Angharad announced in stentorian tones. Her cool gaze swept the room, softening as they passed over her nephew and his guardians; hardening as they encountered Bronwyn of the White Breast, who had the temerity to have attempted to take her sister's place. "You speak of your children, Bronwyn of the White Breast, but you will have none by any man, Pwyll of Dyfed or another. Your womb shrivels even now within you. You will be barren in this life, for to allow such evil blood to be passed on would be a crime against nature. This is the judgment the Fair Folk place upon you for your part in this matter of my nephew.”

  Bronwyn glared defiantly at Angharad, but the queen of the Fair Folk was through with her and looked to Cynbel of Teifi.

  "For your secret crime, lord of Teifi, you are cursed, and all those of your blood who follow you for a thousand generations to come."

  Cynbel of Teifi seemed to wither before their very eyes, and Rhiannon felt it incumbent to communicate with her sister. It was not necessary for her to speak aloud for Angharad to hear her. Be merciful, sister.

  I might have had they showed you any mercy.

  There are some who were thoughtful of me in my distress.

  I know them, and they shall not feel my wrath, Angharad promised her sister as she fixed her gaze once more upon the court of Dyfed. "To those of you known or unknown who aided my sister by thought or deed, I disburse unequaled good fortune for you, and for your descendants for a thousand generations to come. We of the Fair Folk are not really so different from you of the Cymri. We live and we die. We love, and sometimes, though we try hard to control such negativity, we yet hate."

  Angharad now turned to take in Pwyll. Poor Pwyll, she thought for a brief moment, and then she remembered the misery that this man had caused her sister.

  You can take no more from him, Rhiannon silently told her sister.

  But I can, came the hard reply.

  Did you not promise me you would not interfere? Rhiannon gently scolded Angharad.

  No, I did not, Angharad told her disbelieving sister. Think back, sister. You asked me to make that promise, but I did not. Still, I stayed free of this controversy until Anwyl was found and your innocence proven beyond a doubt. I allowed you to endure terrible suffering that the name of our people not be further besmirched.

  Pwyll sat slumped in his seat of office, his head within his hands. He knew whatever fate Angharad of the Fair Folk pronounced upon him, he was more than deserving of it. Feeling her demand, he looked up at her.

  All anger was gone from Angharad's voice now, and only a deep sadness remained as she sternly said, "Pwyll of Dyfed, when you came on your marriage day to wed with my sister, Rhiannon, she asked but two things of you. She asked that you give her your complete love and your complete trust. It was so little in the face of the sacrifices she made in order to become your wife. But you were unable to keep faith with my sister, Pwyll. You betrayed her on both accounts. You ceased to trust her in the face of your people's false condemnations of her, simply because she was not of the Cymri race. Therefore, her credence was to be instantly doubted; but even that the Fair Folk might have forgiven you had you remained true in your heart to her, but you have not. You lay with Bronwyn of the White Breast, and your love for Rhiannon wavered as surely as your faith in her wavered. Did you ever once in all these years remember the great concessions my sister made for you, Pwyll of Dyfed? You left her helpless. You left her unable to defend herself. You left her caught between two worlds, and for that, Pwyll of Dyfed, you will be punished!

  "Our people have watched agonized as Rhiannon was made to suffer because of you and your people. Even you, O foolish Cymri, cannot know the depths of her suffering! You were too busy wallowing in your own self-pity. It has been agreed by the high council of all the Fair Folk that Rhiannon be restored to her own kind. Though she has tried hard, she can never be one of you. To leave her caught between two worlds as you did was cruel. We are not by nature a cruel people. This, however, could not be done until the natural balance of things was corrected. With the restoration of my nephew, Anwyl, to his rightful place, it is. Rhiannon is once again one of us, and I have come to take her home."

  "My powers…?" Rhiannon whispered softly.

  "Restored, dearest sister," replied Angharad. "It is as it was once before. You will never again be helpless before anyone!"

  Her heart hammering joyously, Rhiannon smiled the first smile of genuine happiness that anyone had seen her smile in years. Kissing her son, she told him, "Go now with Teirnyon and Elaine. I will see you soon."

  Anwyl put his arms about his mother's neck and hugged her hard as he placed another kiss upon her cheek. He did not protest as Rhiannon placed him back into Elaine's welcoming arms.

  "I will keep him safe," Elaine promised Rhiannon, her warm and loving gaze meeting the violet eyes of her foster son's mother.

  "Let us go home, Angharad," Rhiannon said simply.

  "Rhiannon!" Pwyll's anguished voice tore through the hall. "Rhiannon, you must forgive me! I love you! 1 do!"

  Angharad reached out and placed warning fingers over her elder sibling's lips. "That, Pwyll," she said stonily and with great satisfaction, "is your punishment! For incarnations to come, though the paths your two souls may take will meet and cross, you will remember this moment in time, although Rhi-annon's soul will not. You will know no deliverance from the guilt you now bear for your faithlessness against Rhiannon. You will remain frozen in time spiritually life after life after lifetime until another moment in time, somewhere in the future, when, if the soul now inhabiting my sister's body remembers this time and this place, and if she can find it in her heart to truly forgive you; then Pwyll, and only then, will you be given deliverance and fully exonerated of your crimes against Rhiannon. She must remember on her own, Pwyll. You cannot tell her. Until then, Pwyll of Dyfed, your own sad soul will suffer in unrequited
anguish, even as you have allowed my sweet sister to suffer these past four years. And now, farewell!"

  And before the astonished eyes of the assembled court of Dyfed, Angharad, queen of the Fair Folk, and her elder sister Rhiannon disappeared in another puff of silvery smoke and a thunderclap. Bronwyn whimpered, frightened, and clutched at Pwyll's arm once more, but he angrily shook her off.

  "Rhiannon!" he cried after his wife. "Rhi-an-non! Rhi-an-non!"

  The mauve mists. She was once again surrounded by the mauve mists, swirling about her furiously, even as the weightlessness overcame her once more, and she felt as if she were floating. Floating. Floating. No! Not floating. She was falling. Falling through time and through space at such a rapid rate that she feared she would be smashed down and totally destroyed. With a surprised gasp, Wynne of Gwernach opened her eyes and sat bolt upright in her bed, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, Madoc's handsome face before her.

  Chapter 9

  "YOU KNOW NOW," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

  She nodded slowly. "How long have I slept, my lord?"

  "Two full days and three nights, dearling. This is the third morning."

  "How long have you been here, Madoc?" she gently asked him.

  "Since Megan brought me your message. You dreamed?"

  "I have known the legend of Pwyll and Rhiannon since I was a child at Gwernach; but the story always ended with Rhiannon forgiving Pwyll, and their living happily ever after," Wynne replied thoughtfully.

  "A Christian ending to a Celtic tale," he said bitterly. "Our people were less forgiving in those far distant times, Wynne, than they have been since the coming of the priests."

  "What happened to Anwyl?" she wondered aloud. "I cannot remember."

  "The Fair Folk blessed Elaine and Teirnyon with a single child, a daughter. Anwyl grew into a fine man who ruled for many years after Pwyll's death in Dyfed, and also in Gwent by his wife's side. He took Morgana, the daughter of his foster parents, for a wife."

  She nodded slowly. "It is good," she said.

  "Wynne?" She heard the desperate question in his voice.

  "Oh, Madoc," she said, looking up at him, her mind and her heart perfectly clear and suddenly filled with understanding, "of course I forgive you! With every ounce of my being I forgive you! What happened between Pwyll and Rhiannon was a series of wrongs on both sides. Don't you understand that? The Fair Folk were obviously of a higher order than the Cymri. It was most unfair of Rhiannon to ask poor Pwyll to give her his complete love and his total trust in exchange for her promise to wed him. It was equally foolish of the besotted Pwyll to give her that promise, for he could not keep it. But how often do we recognize our own weaknesses? But most of all, Madoc, my love, it was wrong of Angharad to place such a punishment upon Pwyll. Only the Creator has such a right, but once a curse is spoken, the Creator will not gainsay it. Rather, he turns his eyes upon the one who uttered the curse. Angharad was removed as Queen of the Fair Folk, for although she loved her sister well and had shown some restraint in the end, she proved herself too immature in her judgments."

  "Who took her place?" he asked, relief pouring through every fiber of his being.

  "Rhiannon did. It was her fate, though she had tried to avoid it. She did not remarry, however, and her nephew Ren ruled after her." Wynne smiled at him. "Do not ask me how I know these things because I cannot tell you, my lord. I simply know now." She sat up and stretched her limbs. "I am ravenous, Madoc!"

  He laughed. "Then we must feed you, dearling. I cannot have it said that I starved my bride." Suddenly his face grew serious. "You are still my betrothed wife, my sweet Wynne, aren't you?"

  "Aye, my lord, I am your wife now and forever. The past is finished for us, Madoc. Only today exists, and all the wonderful tomorrows to come," Wynne told him. "I have let go of the past. I would that you release it too, that we may, upon this bright and shining spring morning, begin our life together anew."

  He took her hands in his and, raising them to his lips, he kissed them softly. "As Pwyll feared his worthiness with regard to his Rhiannon, so I fear my worthiness in regard to you, dearling. How can an innocent little country girl be so wise?"

  Wynne pulled him close and kissed his lips. "I am hardly an innocent any longer, my love," she murmured, and then she chuckled. "As for the wisdom you attribute to me, Madoc, I think it is no more than common sense." She swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Send Megan to me, my lord. I must wash and dress. April is upon us, and we have a wedding to prepare for and scarce a month's time in which to do it!"

  Madoc was astounded by her vigor and enthusiasm during the weeks that followed Wynne's return from her sleep journey. He had not been entirely certain of her ability to forgive him, and waited for a storm that never came. Finally he realized that she had indeed meant it when she told him that the past was finished and done for her. It was then he understood that having borne the knowledge of Pwyll's crimes throughout the ensuing centuries, he had become obsessed by them. His new awareness allowed him the final release he sought.

  Wynne's excitement was contagious. Raven's Rock throbbed with activity as preparations for the wedding progressed. Wynne's family arrived from Gwernach, and she greeted them joyously. Dewi appeared to have grown much taller in the several months since she had last seen him, and Mair was more confident than Wynne had ever seen her shy little sister.

  "Dear child!" Enid embraced her eldest granddaughter and, stepping back, her hands upon Wynne's shoulders, searched her face a moment and smiled, very pleased. "You are happy!" It was a statement of fact, and Enid said it in a most satisfied tone.

  "Aye," Wynne told her. "I am happy."

  "You are content to make this match, my child? There are no doubts lingering in the recesses of your mind?" Enid questioned her.

  "There are no doubts, Grandmother. I love Madoc and he loves me. We will have a long and happy life together and, God willing, many children."

  Enid nodded. "It is good then. I am happy for you both."

  "Tell me of my sisters," Wynne asked Enid. "Are they well?"

  Enid snorted with laughter. "They are living proof that the Devil takes care of his own kind," she replied. "Both bloom and are huge with child. They are very disappointed they cannot come to Raven's Rock for your wedding, but even they acknowledge 'twould be dangerous for them to travel now. Caitlin told me to tell you that she expects you will invite them to visit you this summer."

  Now it was Wynne who laughed. "Oh no!" she said. "Even my patience has limits, Grandmother. However, both Madoc and I would be pleased if you and Mair would come to live at Raven's Rock."

  Enid 's face grew soft with her emotion and, blinking back her tears, she said, "My dear child, 'tis most kind of you to want us, but I think it better I remain at Gwernach a few more years. Dewi is not as grown as he believes himself, and still needs the guidance of an older woman in his life. I hope, though, that you will ask us again."

  "I will," Wynne said, disappointed, but she smiled, that her grandmother not be made to feel uncomfortable.

  Nesta arrived from St. Bride's, her adoring husband in her wake. "Ahh," she said, her eyes bright with pleasure, "you and Madoc have made your peace. I am so glad!" She hugged her brother and kissed Wynne's cheek.

  "And you, dear sister," Wynne said gently to Nesta, "will in future think before you speak harsh words that may not be taken back."

  "Then you know," Nesta said, not in the least nonplused.

  "That the soul inhabiting your body once inhabited that of Angharad? Aye! Once I remembered, 'twas easy to recognize you, but tell me, Nesta. How is it that you knew and I did not?"

  "It was only several years ago that I began having these dreams," Nesta began. "At first they frightened me, and I tried to ignore them. When I finally realized that I could not, I told Madoc. No sooner had I spoken to him than it all became quite clear to me in my mind. You can but imagine how awful I felt, knowing what I had done and being unable to help m
y brother, whom I loved best among all men. He reassured me that he held no ill will toward me, and that when he wed with you, all would be well, and it is!"

  "Aye, it is, and now the past is done for us all," Wynne said.

  "Thank God it is over," Nesta replied, relieved, and then she said happily, "I am to have a baby, dearest Wynne! Just before the feast of Christ's Mass. "

  "Should you be traveling?" Wynne fretted. "My sisters could not come to Raven's Rock because both are expecting their children soon."

  "I have only just confirmed my suspicions myself," Nesta said, "but both Rhys and 1 agreed that we would not miss this wedding! I am no weakling to sit by the fire plying my needle for the next several months."

  The princes of Wenwynwyn were an ancient family, and so Raven's Rock Castle filled with guests as the wedding day approached. Wynne had never seen most of the guests before. Madoc assured her she would in all likelihood never see them again. Still, they must be invited lest anyone important be offended. Wynne's distant kinsman, the king, Gruffydd ap Llywelyn, sent his regrets along with a pair of great silver candlesticks. The night before the wedding ceremony the Great Hall bulged with revelers who ate and drank and thoroughly enjoyed the Irish minstrels who had been brought to the castle for entertainment.

  Wynne sat beside Madoc in the place of honor at the high board. Her scarlet and gold tunic dress flattered her fair skin and her dark hair. It was obvious to all gathered, from the looks that she and Madoc kept exchanging, that a love match had developed between them.

  "My lords and my ladies," the majordomo's voice rang through the hall, "his lordship, the bishop of Cai."

  "My God!" Nesta's hand flew to her mouth. " 'Tis Brys."

  "He is not welcome here," growled Madoc, "and well he knows it, the devil!"

  "My lord," Wynne put a restraining hand upon his arm, "you cannot send him away, else you create a scandal. Whatever has passed between you must be put aside, if only for a brief time."

  "He has done this deliberately," moaned Nesta. "He has come publicly, and at a time when he knows we dare not send him away! Madoc, my beloved brother, you must beware!"