by Myers, Karen
“Can’t this be decided, once and for all?” George said.
“Ah, but how?” Eurig said. “Some switched their allegiance, subtly or overtly, from Lludd to Gwyn, in recognition and support of his own domain as Prince of Annwn. Lludd was infuriated. Ceridwen was one, and Angharad, here, another. And of course, the two of us. His brother Edern has been caught between them, with his domain under Lludd, and his sympathy for and loyalty to his brother. Even Creiddylad, for a time, maintained allegiance to Gwyn.”
“What cracked the nut eventually,” Eurig said, “was Trevor Mawr’s great discovery.”
He looked to Maelgwn next to him. “That’s who found the Travelers’ Way, my boy, Trevor the Great, the finest way-finder of them all. A fresh cave-in on Gwyn’s Bryntirion lands revealed the entrance of a great way, and Trevor Mawr was the first to set eyes on our new world here at the other end. He saw that the sun’s position shifted in an instant, as it does when you journey east or west via the ways, and he realized he had found entirely new lands to the far west. He went to Gwyn for sponsorship and support, for this would make him immensely wealthy. He could have gone to Lludd. Gwyn was grateful and rewarded him very well.”
“Eurig and I headed the exploration teams that Gwyn sent out,” Tegwen said. “One of the first discoveries was a second way nearby that returned to the old world. Gwyn calls that the Family Way. He keeps it hidden, but the other end was in wasteland not far from Edern’s lands, and Edern adroitly maneuvered to acquire the land and built a country place there, to the bafflement of his neighbors.”
George knew about the Family Way. Its hidden entrance was in the middle of the kennels, in the courtyard. They built the kennels around it as another layer of protection. Hidden or not, he could feel it, though he’d not yet traveled through it.
Eurig said, “Trevor Mawr set up all the way-tokens and concealed the ways. He mapped out some of the new local ways here, too. The secret was kept for several years while Gwyn prepared.”
“You see,” Tegwen said, “It’s not like an earthly court. Wherever the Prince of Annwn and the hounds are, that’s where Annwn is. The Prince defines the domain, not the other way around. Gwyn had the brilliant idea to move Annwn itself, to claim domains in the new world and take Annwn with him. I don’t know how he convinced Cernunnos, but Eurig and I helped him get Beli Mawr’s assent. I’ve heard that he spoke to Cernunnos privately at the great hunt that year.”
“Creiddylad laid the living palisade,” Eurig said, “and Ceridwen supervised all the early building, raising by direct labor what we could, and using her powers to help with the rest. We spent a year here, since we were not often at court and thus little missed, coordinating the venture.”
Tegwen colored. “Well, and we picked out some land for ourselves, too,” she said, looking around at her surroundings.
“All the workmen and lesser vassals came willingly, but once they came, they had to stay while the secret held. Many of these ‘new men’ founded better family positions at that time. Very few went back and forth,” Eurig said. “Even Creiddylad, who couldn’t hide here, kept the faith, astoundingly. She hated her father more than Gwyn then.”
“It didn’t hurt that I kept my eye on her,” Tegwen said. “When she visited Lludd, I went with her.”
“We managed to keep the secret for a full year while Idris organized the move on Gwyn’s old world estates and we took care of it here. Finally, on the night after the great hunt, while everyone was exhausted and sleeping, Gwyn emptied much of his domain and took the hounds. After the procession finished going through the way—it took hours, it did—he closed it while he isolated Annwn in the new world and continued building. He corresponded in private with Beli Mawr and Edern, but Lludd was furious and could do nothing about it. The remnants of Gwyn’s vassals who’d chosen to remain on his own domains suffered Lludd’s wrath, but Beli Mawr put a stop to that.”
“What happened with that year’s great hunt?” George said.
“A year was long enough, Gwyn felt, and he reopened access through the Travelers’ Way in time for the hunt that Nos Galan Gaeaf. We urged him to make it a local hunt for a few years while we consolidated, but he thought that would be a sign of weakness and took the risk,” Eurig said. “I think he was right, after all. That quieted protest better than anything else could have, and tensions throughout Lludd’s kingdom lessened now that there was distance between the factions.”
George thought about the tale in silence. He’d heard parts of it before, but not as one coherent story. Why was Eurig telling him all this now? It didn’t feel like random chance.
“So,” he ventured, “Gwyn had this big choice to make. He discussed it with Cernunnos in advance.”
Eurig gave him an approving look. “Yes, at the great hunt the year before. He spoke to Beli Mawr, too.”
George nodded his comprehension. Gwyn wanted to speak to Beli Mawr again, he knew, from what Ceridwen had told him. “That’s what I wondered.” Lesson learned, he thought. History will repeat itself.
Eurig smiled. “I expected you might find it useful to know this, to understand how Gwyn thinks and plans. You’re a very young man, but I can see a bit of Gwyn in you.”
Brynach furrowed his brow as if to disagree.
Eurig waggled his long mustaches at him and said, “Learn about big strong men, great-nephew. You’ll be one, someday.”
George caught Tegwen hiding a smile at that.
“They come in four flavors, my boy—the bull, the bear, the badger, and the boar.”
He launched into his lecture. “The bull, he’s ready to fight any time, for any cause. He’s dangerous, certainly, but easy to bait and easy to fool. Predictable, if you can keep your nerve while you stir him up. All aggression and bluster. Lludd is like this, and it’s a serious flaw in a ruler.
“The bear, on the other hand, is peaceable. He’ll tolerate a lot. It’s almost impossible to provoke him, but if you manage it, he can be deadly, like a furious blacksmith. It’s not the ideal temperament for a warrior, takes too long to rouse him to attack, but he makes a fine fighter once his blood is up. Gwyn’s brother Edern leans this way.
“The badger, now, he holds his own. No one will defeat him in his own sett but he doesn’t go around looking for a fight. Won’t retreat from one either, though. I have something of that in me, and so does Llefelys. He keeps to his kingdom and holds the borders against his neighbors, but doesn’t seek what isn’t his. Keeps a strong fence, he does.
“The boar—he’s versatile, he is. He doesn’t start many fights but doesn’t hesitate if he finds one. He’ll try to deceive his enemies and lie in wait for them. He’ll fight to the death, either to defend his own or just out of sheer bloody-mindedness. You can’t make him quit. Gwyn has this nature and so, I suspect, does our young George here. Gwyn’s battles are more subtle and elaborate, of course, as befits a mighty prince. But look at how George steered those huntsmen our way the other night, to do his questioning for him.”
George was taken aback at this analysis, and chagrined to see how fascinated both Brynach and Maelgwn were. He cocked an eyebrow at Angharad, and she nodded her agreement with Eurig, which startled him further.
Eurig watched the byplay and said, “It’s true, what I say. You’ll not often see Gwyn angry, but then his enemies look down and find themselves wounded, sometimes unto death.”
Tegwen said, “You’re not going to change his plans any, huntsman, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it. This has been brewing for a very long time. Gwyn’s not tempted by ambition the way his father is, he’s seen that too closely for too long. But he won’t be ruled by Lludd, either. Open conflict has been avoided for a couple of thousand years, but Gwyn has limits. The bolt was laid in this crossbow long ago. You and the rock-wights are just the trigger for it.”
Eurig hung back with George after the meal and took him outside onto a wide stone veranda at the rear of the manor. Tegwen and Brynach went off to show Angharad some of
the improvements that had been made in the workshops south of the building, and Maelgwn accompanied them.
“Thank you for that, in there,” George said to him. “Even we useful tools like to have some idea of what to expect.”
Eurig chuckled. “I thought so. Gwyn’s done this to me before, keeping his plans close, and I don’t think the worse of him for it.” He cocked an eye at him. “Mustn’t get impatient.”
“Yes, of course you’re right. I’m waiting for his conversation with Cernunnos. He’s been hinting at it.” He stared off at the long mountain ridge that ran endlessly north and south. The day was bright but large intermittent clouds carried east by the wind cast dramatic shadows across the landscape.
“Meanwhile, the new hunt staff are my problem,” he said briskly to Eurig. “What do you make of them?”
“I couldn’t get very far. Gwion’s all charm and I have nothing to fault him on. That other one, Dyfnallt, he keeps himself to himself more, but that’s no crime. I know both of their lords, of course.”
“Really? Tell me about them.”
“Glesni’s land is rich and I expect Gwion’s been a bit pampered there. She and Gwyn were consorts for a while, but that was before Annwn. I know she has heirs, but no husband, not for a long time. There were never many who met her standards.”
He summed it up. “She stayed with Lludd and must be presumed loyal to him. It’s unlikely that Gwion has no assignment from his lady, but what he is to do other than watch and learn I can’t say. I do wish I had a better grip on him—it’s like trying to grasp an eel the way he makes you work to pin him down.”
“Hmm,” George said. “He’s performed well in the field and, after his first surprise about Benitoe and the young staff, he’s adapted well. But you’re right, it’s hard to get past the pleasant surface.”
“Cuhelyn, now, that’s a very different matter. He and Gwyn bristle at each other like unfriendly dogs, stiff-legged with disdain. I don’t know of any real cause, but you might want to ask Gwyn, if you find him in the right mood. His huntsman seems like a product of the land, the rocks and fells. You might find him slow to warm up but solid if he does.”
“I think much of his manner is the knowledge that his master is no friend of Gwyn’s, and him expecting to be unwelcome here in consequence,” George said. “I find his reserve understandable, more than Gwion’s affability. And there have been momentarily glimpses underneath…”
“It’s Brynach and Rhian I’m concerned about, you understand,” George said. “Benitoe can take care of himself, I think, but they’re younger. The question is, what can these huntsmen do other than spy? Lludd has other spies already in place, we know that. Why cause these two to be sent now?”
Eurig shrugged.“Brynach’s on his guard, huntsman, and so is Rhian, he tells me. There’s little you can do other than continue on and keep an eye on them.”
Eurig thought he knew what Gwyn intended, to beard Lludd in his den. If that happened, well, Idris was over the ridge in Dyffryn Camarch, his hands full bringing Madog’s old domain back to health. And he and Tegwen were here, ready to hold the rear lines. It would be like old times again. Gwyn should get on with it, though. He sympathized with George’s impatience.
Movement caught Eurig’s eye and he saw Tegwen had reappeared with her charges and was waving them over. “Let’s join them. You haven’t seen our workshops and mills, either.” They walked down the veranda steps and met the others at a point of land where the view to the southwest was uninterrupted.
The contrasting fields and woods rolled down along the foot of the ridge. Some of the cleared acreage was under the plow, but the rest was grazing land, dotted with spotted cattle in a patchwork of colors.
Maelgwn stood off to the side taking a survey of the land by eye, working methodically along from south to north.
Eurig joined him. “You have a feel for the land, don’t you?”
The boy looked up at him. “Yes, sir. I like to know where everything is.”
“More of a wolf, are you, than these lumbering beasts we were discussing?”
Maelgwn nodded a surprised agreement.
“Then you should get to know your territory, like any wolf.” He raised his voice so George and Angharad could hear him. “You are welcome to come ride this land anytime. Explore it at your will. Ten miles it runs, to the north, as far as the river’s source on the ridge, and across the north road to the east, as well.”
He watched with satisfaction as Maelgwn straightened with pride at the offer. How old was he? Must be almost of age, he thought. A young scout would be no bad thing to be raising, with the coming conflict. He glanced at George. “Overnight trips would be good experience for him.”
George reluctantly agreed. “As long as you keep us informed, foster-son.”
Brynach smiled at Maelgwn’s obvious pleasure. “I miss the freedom to roam these lands that way.”
“What are you grinning about?” George asked Angharad, that night. They were alone in their bedchamber, relaxing in their robes in the chairs before the fire, and Angharad had just smiled broadly, for no reason George could detect.
“I was thinking of that discussion of Tegwen and knives today.” She laughed. “I know the details of getting Rhian clothes suitable for court are not part of your mission, but they are mine. Who else could she turn to, after all—Ceridwen?”
George smiled at the thought of the grave Ceridwen trying to dress a teenage princess. Bad enough when Maelgwn and he had to present themselves to be fitted for court clothing.
“Isn’t Rhian cooperating? I know she’s not a dressy girl but I thought she’d accepted the task.”
“That’s not the problem. We’re drowning over there in her rooms in silks, brocades, trimmings, and all the rest. Lovely stuff, really, in beautiful colors. Mostyn’s found some fine materials for us. And she likes it well enough. She’s even taking our guidance on suitable styles.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
“Knives.”
George choked, and coughed. He leaned forward in his chair to recover.
“Knives, everywhere.” Angharad grinned again. “She won’t accept any garment that won’t allow her to carry knives somewhere. And not just strapped to her legs where she can reach them through her pocket slits. ‘Just in case,’ she says.”
“Well, I can’t really fault her for that,” he said.
“Nor I, but it does make for the most incongruous pictures, when she stands there half-covered in dainty lace, testing the draw of a particular blade.”
George smiled himself at the image she painted.
“Speaking of knives,” she said, “did you know that Dyfnallt is a carver? Alun lent him some of the tools from Iolo’s workshop downstairs and he tells me the man’s working on something he won’t show anyone. I suppose this is how he spends his evenings, for I don’t see him much about, outside of work.”
“I don’t know what the two huntsmen do in their spare time, and it worries me,” George said. “Can’t help thinking they’re both up to mischief. What have you heard about Gwion?”
Angharad looked at him. “He’s very charming, anyone will tell you so. No one has a thing to say against him. He knows everyone—the grooms, the craftsmen, the merchants. Not like Dyfnallt, who keeps himself to himself.”
“Hmm,” George said noncommittally. “I’m going to have to leave them as alternating huntsmen when we go with Gwyn, but everyone’s been warned.”
“What are you worried they might do while you’re gone?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see the harm in it, but I don’t like it,” he said.
That reminded him. “Oh, did I tell you? It looks like all four of the bitches have caught. We should be seeing whelps around the middle of March. Ives is in charge of that.”
“Good,” she said, and yawned.
He stood and stretched. “Gwyn assures me we’ll be back by then. I’d hate to miss it.”
He offered his ha
nd to her and pulled her upright effortlessly, not letting her go when she reached her feet but pulling her into his arms for an embrace. He paused to set a screen before the fireplace to guard against sparks, then the two of them walked slowly to the bed, their arms about each other’s waists, and turned down the lights.
CHAPTER 10
George had no idea what to expect.
Ceridwen had invited him to meet her at Daear Llosg, the burning grounds north of the manor a week before they all left for the old world. Some sort of “blessing,” she said.
As he rode into the clearing, he felt both the Archer’s Way to Edgewood, and the new Dyffryn Way, over to the court across the mountain. They were well guarded.
This location had originally been chosen as a ceremonial site for cremations because the little path leading down to the main road and the stream flowing to join the river made it an appropriate intersection, a crossroads. Now that two ways had been opened here, with room for more, George could envision the day when this became an important nexus.
There was enough traffic here, even now, that there were posts set for the guards to tie horses to, like the hitching posts in old west towns. George dismounted and tied off Llamrei, his chestnut mare. He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he was told to bring, and walked back down the slope to meet with Ceridwen at the site of the actual cremations.
She waited for him patiently, the tendrils of her graying hair teased from her braid by the intermittent breeze blowing under the cloud-covered sky.
“So what’s this all about?” he said, after they greeted each other. “You told me to bring things for a three-way blessing, but I don’t really understand. What’s it for?”
