King of the May

by Myers, Karen

  “This is a ritual that most of us invoke from time to time, but it’s never been done for you, as I just reminded Gwyn. Here, before our departure, it seemed to me a good idea to make sure you were included.”

  “As for the gods, Gwyn’s line, your line—most of us follow one or the other of three gods. There’s Cernunnos. You know all about him.”

  George rolled his eyes. “Well enough.”

  “I am a follower of Senua. She watches over hidden things, as I’ve told you. Women commonly follow her, but others as well—prospectors, scholars, all the seekers after knowledge. Rhodri, like other way-finders, favors her.”

  “And Taranis?” he asked. “Sounds like a thunder god, but what does that mean?”

  “Ah. He’s a personal favorite of some in the royal line. Power, certainly, but righteous power, a smiter of evil.”

  “Not a defender of the weak?” He thought of his Christian upbringing.

  “What better defense than to kill their enemies?” she said.

  He quirked a smile in sardonic acknowledgment. “Security before prosperity,” he suggested.

  “Just so.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me exactly what to bring?” he asked.

  “That’s not how it works. Each man’s choice is personal. It must come from within.”

  She showed him a flat rock, part of the mountain surface exposed to the air. It was about three feet across, just in front of the cremation area. “This is hallowed ground. Present your gifts to the gods here, and be blessed.”

  Nothing for nothing, he thought to himself. These gods must be paid, I suppose. I forgot to ask her if I get them back.

  He reached into his pocket and unfastened the chain securing the small bone thunderbolt. He bent down and placed it on the rock. “This seemed the obvious choice for Taranis,” he said, and Ceridwen looked on without response.

  “I wasn’t sure what to bring for Senua, but then I thought of this. The ways are certainly hidden enough.”

  Out of his coat pocket he pulled a small piece of something rock-like enclosed in a wire cage. It was a piece of Seething Magma, something she gave him to remember her by. To taste, as she put it. He hadn’t told anyone, but he had once licked it to see if he could, indeed, taste her. It was a strange flavor, like sun-baked granite with a bit of iron.

  He put that down next to the bone thunderbolt. Ceridwen’s face was unreadable.

  “Cernunnos was hard, both too many choices and not enough. You said it had to be personal…”

  She nodded.

  “I want to offer a bit of my blood. He’s part of me now. Will that do?” He hesitated. “He gave me back my life, as a gift. It seems like the right thing.”

  He pulled out the knife at his belt and pricked a fingertip. He bent over and squeezed the finger and let the blood drip onto the rock so that the two objects and the blood drops marked the three points of a triangle.

  He straightened up again and watched Ceridwen. Her eyes were closed and she murmured words he couldn’t hear. The air felt suddenly heavy, pressing down on him as if an abrupt summer thunderstorm were coming. He could smell the ionization in the air and hear a distant roll of thunder, very strange in February. He tasted Seething Magma, the hint of iron like blood in his mouth, and he heard a faint, almost silent, lullaby. Taranis and Senua were suddenly more than abstract words to him.

  In apparent answer to that thought, Cernunnos erupted without warning as the deer-headed man, as if to jealously claim him for his own. George wasn’t prepared and staggered under the weight shift, but he forced himself to stand upright. He absorbed the world through his altered senses—the smells of the blood on the stone and the chill on Ceridwen’s skin, the reduction of color but the compensating width of view, almost a full circle around him, the feel of his ears twitching, the heavy antlers. It was very real.

  The atmosphere lightened and the sense of uncanny presences vanished. He pulled back the deer-man form and took on his normal appearance.

  Ceridwen said nothing, but gestured for him to pick up the two objects on the rock. She bent over and used a flint knife at her belt to cut out a small bit of turf, winter dormant grass with a couple of inches of soil attached to the roots. She scrubbed the drying blood off the rock with it, the dirt soaking up the blood. With her fingers she tore apart the handful of sod and scattered it around the rock.

  He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. She waved him toward his horse in dismissal and stood there silent.

  The last he saw of her, she was walking around the rock, clockwise. She hadn’t spoken to him at all since the ritual. Didn’t we do it right, he wondered.

  George joined Gwyn and Edern in the council room, at Gwyn’s request. Edern walked over and closed the door, locking it. George had never seen it locked before. No interruptions, he thought.

  Gwyn invited both of them to sit comfortably before his desk. He sat down behind it, silent for a moment.

  He’s nervous, George thought, astonished. Gwyn rarely exhibited such hesitations.

  Gwyn said, “Ceridwen tells me that your blessing went well.”

  “Did it?” George said. “She didn’t say.”

  Edern looked over at him. “All three gods manifested. That doesn’t often happen.”

  “Oh,” George said. “I didn’t know.”

  Gwyn cleared his throat. “I am sorry to have kept you in the dark all this time, great-grandson, but I believe you will understand my reasons. Relations with my father will come to a head, soon, and we must commit to a plan.”

  He paused, then stood up. “May we speak to Cernunnos, please?”

  George had a stray thought, that it must be convenient not to have to wait for the great hunt this time.

  He nodded and got up from the chair, glancing over his head automatically to make sure there was clearance for the antlers. Edern rose and stood off to the side.

  George invited the god and, as usual, the full deer-man manifested first. George was accustomed by now to the posture changes necessary to hold the head with the heavy antlers, and the change in his senses as his sight lost most of its color but sound and smell intensified. George gave him control willingly, watching and listening from within.

  Gwyn faced him in his full princely dignity. “Fifteen hundred years ago, great lord, you allowed me to transfer your hounds, and everything that ties your kingdom to the earth, here to this new world. I have tried to serve you faithfully ever since, and will continue to do so for as long as you will allow it.” He bowed his head, and the deer-man dipped his in acknowledgment.

  “You know my father’s blindness in this,” Gwyn said. “So far we have avoided open conflict, but that time is ending. There are new powers in the land that are players, the rock-wights in particular, but also this great-grandson of mine, whom you had a hand in making, who is such a threat to the ways. The human world continues to influence us, and we cannot remain unchanged.”

  He looked straight into expressionless face of the deer-man as George listened, Cernunnos’s thoughts opaque to him.

  “There will be strife,” he said. “It’s unavoidable.”

  Cernunnos made no reply.

  “I intend to seek a separation from the old world and independence from my father in terms he will be forced to accept. I want to bring our people, all of them, and whoever wants to joins us, to a place of strength where they can thrive, and I intend to defend us from our enemies who wish to harm us.”

  He paused to make his point. “All of this will serve your cause of Justice, great lord, but it will break us from what has become a timeless, static existence, a constant test of sacrifice and limits.”

  He stood squarely and demanded, “I seek your blessing in this.”

  George waited with Gwyn and Edern to see what Cernunnos’s response would be. For a moment, there was silence. Then, abruptly, the horned man took over the form to speak these words, “You may begin this. We shall see how it ends.”

  And with that,
the horned man withdrew and George was left standing in his natural form.

  Gwyn looked over at Edern, who said, “I think that’s as good as you’re going to get.”

  George thought, looks like the revolution is on. Eurig will be pleased. Let’s hope it works.

  At last, Rhodri thought to himself, as he waited for Gwyn to explain why he’d been summoned to his council chamber for a private meeting. He’s stopped waiting, you can tell.

  “Kinsman,” Gwyn started, then paused.

  Rhodri kept his face still, across from Gwyn at his desk. He only calls me ‘kinsman’ when it’s serious, he thought. Here we go.

  “I need to send you ahead of everyone else as this game begins, to Llefelys.”

  Lludd’s brother, King of Gaul. So, does he want him to remain neutral, or does he seek an active ally? The one would be much easier than the other—Llefelys never stirs outside of his own domain.

  “It’s not the first time, my lord. You know I’ll do my best for you.”

  Gwyn nodded. “I’m counting on that.”

  “What about our work with the rock-wights?”

  “George can take your place for most of that, until the family leaves, and then there will just have to be a break for a few weeks.”

  “You need more way-finders, my lord, especially if you are about to acquire many more ways.”

  “Agreed. They’re on my list,” Gwyn said.

  Like a woman going to market, Rhodri thought. He’s planning to shop while he’s in the old world.

  “Shall I keep an eye out for candidates while I’m in Gaul?”

  “If you can do it without offense to Llefelys, then certainly.”

  “I’ll use the usual channels for communications, then?”

  Gwyn nodded.

  “You know, my lord, that your father has spies here.”

  “Of course he does,” Gwyn said.

  “What will happen when we’re all absent?”

  “I’m leaving things in good hands. Don’t be concerned.” For a moment, his eyes went distant, as if remembering.

  “I’m thinking of the master-tokens, my lord.”

  “Ah. Trevor Mawr’s defenses are still in place. And mine.”

  “And the backups?” Rhodri didn’t know where the backups were, but he assumed that Ceridwen did. Maybe someday Gwyn would share that with him, too.

  “They’ll not be getting to those,” Gwyn said with assurance.

  Looks like today was not going to be that day, Rhodri thought. He settled in to receive his full instructions regarding Llefelys.

  Eurig popped into Gwyn’s council room after the mid-day meal on Sunday. Everyone was nervous, waiting for the date to be set for the family’s departure, and Gwyn had asked to meet with him today.

  I told Tegwen this would be it, he thought. Just like old times. Let’s hope I’m right. He itched for the action to begin.

  Gwyn sat at his desk, with a stack of papers that Eurig recognized as the report he’d prepared with Idris and Rhys two night ago, at Edgewood. The three of them had been rotating meeting locations for the last couple of weeks to get familiar with the new ways and the time it would take to cross the distances between their locations using them, in case the knowledge should come in handy in an emergency.

  “Welcome, old friend,” Gwyn said as Eurig sat down before the desk. “It’s finally started.”

  He handed an official document to Eurig. Over Lludd’s royal signature was an agreement to Gwyn’s request to hold Rhian’s coming-of-age at his court. That was only to be expected, Eurig thought. It was the next section that was interesting.

  You are also summoned to appear before us to give your account of the murder of Madog ab Owen Gwynedd, your annexation of his domain, and the destruction of Madog’s Way, the link between our domains.

  “Well, that’s amusing,” Eurig said. “Do you thing we should bring Seething Magma with us to answer for her crimes? Not that we wouldn’t have done it ourselves if we could have.”

  The dignified Gwyn allowed himself a smile at the image. “Madog’s father had something like seventeen sons, I’ve always understood, and some of them are still alive. They’re a princely line. I imagine there’s been pressure on my father about this. And it was a pity to destroy one of the only three ways across the ocean we know of, but that couldn’t be helped.”

  He waved his hand. “But it hardly matters—this is just an excuse. Are you three ready?”

  “We’ve been ready for days. Idris kept the bulk of the soldiers, useful where he has them, and easy to get here quickly if needed. Hadyn’s put together a reserve of current trainees stiffened with a few of our veterans for any immediate response, and Rhys is prepared to support either of us at need.”

  He leaned back in his chairs and started ticking things off on his fingers. “You have our report there. Tegwen and Ifor have got supplies organized, and we have various fallback plans prepared if we come under attack.” He asked Gwyn directly, “Do you really expect it to come to war?”

  “No, but my father will exploit any vulnerability he can find, and if he has put it about that I should be replaced, which I think he has, then his candidates may be willing to act independently to present him with a task already done. And who knows what they might try? There could be any number of agents already in place, from any of my enemies. We never found the person who set the trap for Angharad, or the way-adept who went looking for rock-wights, if they’re not indeed the same man.”

  “Do you know who your rivals are?”

  “Not all of them, not with certainty,” Gwyn said. “There are names rumored, but nothing sure. My fight isn’t with them directly, not for my father’s favor—he mistakes me. I will be separate, here in the new world. I have to take the fight to him for that, not to his cat’s-paws.”

  “How will you do that?”

  Gwyn gave him a veiled, far-away look. “I have some plans in motion.”

  Eurig shook his head. “Better you than me. You were always better at scheming than I was. Give me a straight fight any day.”

  Gwyn laughed at him. “You’re as devious and cunning as anyone I know. You just like to pretend otherwise.”

  Eurig nodded to acknowledge the point. “Perhaps, but truly you are better at the long-range strategy and alliances.”

  He paused, then said what was in his mind. “Almost all your current family will be there, under Lludd’s hand.”

  “Yes, and me as well, and Ceridwen. It’s a risk, a big one. I think he’ll honor the guest-laws—he’ll have to, or lose all allegiance from his nobles. But I don’t know how far gone he is in his fury. I’ve received some disturbing reports.”

  “If you have to choose…” Eurig said.

  “Then I’ll have to choose,” Gwyn answered stoically. “The skill is in arranging not to have to.”

  Eurig took pity on him and didn’t push it any further.

  “When do you leave?” he asked.

  “We depart in one week, next Sunday, for Edern’s court. There we will remain for one more week before seeing Lludd. We will be his guests for two weeks before the ceremony, and then return home.”

  Let’s hope it’s that simple, Eurig said silently to himself.

  CHAPTER 11

  As he left Hadyn’s training rooms and emerged into the afternoon light, Brynach paused and took a deep breath of the chill, refreshing air. Felt good after the stuffiness and heat of sparring.

  Odd, there was Rhian, as if she’d been waiting for him. She looked uncomfortable and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Can we go talk somewhere?” she said.

  “How about the huntsman’s office?” he suggested. “No one will be there.”

  “Good.”

  They walked in companionable silence through the kennel gates. This will work better if I let her tell me whatever it is in her own way, he thought.

  No one intercepted them, and they opened the door to the huntsman’s office, unlocked as always, and
closed it behind them.

  Rhian didn’t say anything yet, so Brynach busied himself lighting the lamps and drawing the curtain. When he was done, he turned around quietly to face her. “What’s wrong?”

  She leaned half-sitting against the huntsman’s desk. She laughed a little at herself. “I don’t know why this is so hard to say.” She looked up and spoke to him directly. “You know Gwyn is taking the whole family to Lludd’s court for my coming-of-age. We leave in a week and we’ll be gone for almost a month.”

  He knew, but his stomach clenched anyway. Anything could happen to her over there. They could betroth her. An image of Rhian in an unwilling marriage flashed across his mind’s eye as his commonsense caught up. Not likely, that. I’d like to see them try and make her do something she doesn’t want to. There’d be knives everywhere.

  But still, it would be dangerous. Who would watch out for her? Gwyn would be scheming and busy. Her grandfather? George?

  Rhian said, “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking it’s a long time you’ll be gone and I’m worried about what might happen,” he said.

  She spoke, hesitantly. “I want to ask you something, but it’s hard. I can’t look at you.”

  He promptly turned around like a soldier at attention and faced the window. “Is this better?”

  She giggled. “Yes, thank you.”

  He smiled in sympathy since she couldn’t see his expression.

  More soberly, she continued. “Brynach, I think, I mean, people tell me that… you like me, a little.”

  His heart rose but he held himself very quiet, not to frighten the moment away.

  “More than a little,” he murmured.

  He could hear her swallow in the stillness. “Me, too,” she managed to say.

  She must surely have heard the smile that threatened to crack his face open.

  “Well, thank goodness for that,” he said, to spare her embarrassment.

  “I just can’t do anything yet,” she said. “I’m not old enough, well, I suppose I am officially, but you know what I mean, don’t you?” She broke off hesitantly.

  “I know. I’ve told you before, don’t worry about that. There’s no hurry.”