‘It’s so good to be home.’ Creirwy breathed deep the cool night air, as they entered the outer bailey grounds, barely able to see anything beyond the light of the lantern the Lady held aloft. ‘Will you help me start my fire?’
Gwion, a little tipsy, had to repress a laugh. ‘Always.’
He was nudged hard on the shoulder for the implication, and was sent staggering a few steps before he regained balance. ‘What? I merely answered the question.’
So much for him not drinking any more. But the mead at Castell Tegid was the sweetest brew ever to tempt a man, and he was with family who would not judge any silly behaviour that might result. He found it hard to believe that he’d had two nights alone with Creirwy while they were away and thanks to drink had passed out both nights. Tonight wasn’t looking any more promising. But Creirwy had found her spark again and that had been the goal for their getaway.
‘Morwyn seems a lovely person.’ He made conversation to avoid flirting.
‘You find her attractive?’ Creirwy sounded concerned.
‘Not like you.’ He held up both hands to assure her.
‘Oh.’ His lady was appeased. ‘Yes, Morwyn is very sweet. Unlike me, who is unpredictable, distant, mother of a demon child and cursed by the Lord of the Otherworld.’
‘I am going to break that damned curse of yours,’ Gwion vowed, and his slurring didn’t detract from his sincerity.
The Lady tilted her head, perhaps wanting to believe him, but not heartened. ‘There is more than one covenant to appease—’
‘I know. But as you will not tell me what you bartered for my life—’
‘I cannot tell you. I am forbidden, or would tell you everything.’
‘I shall find out on my own,’ he concluded, and again she only appeared sorry for him.
‘I have cursed you without you ever having made a deal with the Night Hunter.’
Gwion gently took hold of the Lady’s hand to waylay her, and she turned to hear him out. ‘You are not my curse! You are my world, Creirwy, and I will set you free. One day we will be together, I swear it.’ As they had yet to cross the bridge, Gwion slid his hands up to cup his lady’s jaw and drew her into the kiss he’d once promised – a sweet, mead-tinged lock of lips that went on and on and still ended too soon.
Creirwy smiled shyly, once they’d parted. ‘What a sweet memory.’ She continued across the bridge in a far more jovial mood.
‘Are you quite sure you got it? I can reiterate.’ Gwion made a move to catch up to her as she held the lantern high; the night was cloudy and quite dark.
‘Oh yes,’ she assured, inhaling a deep satisfying breath. ‘And I shall never let it escape.’
The light dropped from her hand unexpectedly and his lady collapsed to the ground in spasm and gasping in pain.
‘My Lady, what ails you?’ Gwion’s heart began beating in his throat as he rushed to her side.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she insisted, as if her life depended on him complying. ‘Back away.’
‘Please . . .’ Gwion did as requested – he couldn’t see that well in the dark, but she arced her back as if someone had put a dagger in it. ‘Tell me what to do.’
‘Go to bed.’ The Lady clenched her teeth as she rolled onto her stomach and dragged her defunct body back in the direction they’d just come.
‘Let me help—’
‘No!’
‘I’m not going to leave you like this.’
As the Lady drew herself back over the halfway point of the bridge, she breathed easy once more, and came to rest her upper body against the wall. ‘See, I am fine; you can go.’
‘I am not leaving until you tell me what just happened.’ Gwion crouched down beside her.
‘It is only important that I know,’ she said coolly as she used the wall at her back to shimmy back to her feet. ‘Don’t.’ She pulled her arm away when Gwion attempted to assist. ‘Stop being so damn charming and go to bed!’
Gwion’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, and he backed away a few more steps to widen the distance between them as the further away he got, the calmer she seemed. ‘I will wait here. Once I see the lantern enter the cottage I will go.’
‘There is really no need to concern yourself.’ She brushed him off as if she barely knew him.
‘All the same. I shall wait.’
‘Have it your way.’ She sounded positively spiteful and strode off in a determined fashion and, picking up the lantern on her way past it, she continued all the way to her door unhindered.
Once the light disappeared into the cottage, Gwion gripped his head, baffled. ‘What did I do?’ Her sudden mysterious ailment was a concern, so too was the fact that it had altered the way that she regarded him so radically – he’d gone from her lover to her nemesis in a heartbeat. The kiss hadn’t seemed to bother her. And if it was not that which caused offence, then what?
His mead-fuelled mind was not reasoning the best as he struggled to get back to the house in the dark without breaking his neck. The stairs to the entrance foyer were a very welcome sight, for today had been a very long day, and he would need to be up bright and early to be back in the sanctum tending the cauldron.
As he turned the corner of the inner staircase to upstairs, Gwion was surprised to find Morwyn seated at the top by herself, looking rather forlorn. ‘Morwyn? Where is Morvran?’
‘He has work to do, that I cannot help with, apparently.’
‘Ooooh . . .’ Gwion figured he was doing the night shift in the sanctum to give Morda a break. ‘Are you not tired from all your adventures this day?’
Morwyn shook her head. ‘I wish. I have never had a bed so comfortable. But just being in this magical place, with these magical people . . . doesn’t it make you just want to squeal with joy? I don’t think I shall ever go to sleep, for fear I will wake and this will all have been naught but a beautiful dream.’
She hadn’t seen the half of it yet. ‘I know what you mean.’ Gwion jogged up the remaining stairs and collapsed to a seat beside her.
‘Unfortunately for me,’ Morwyn pouted, ‘I do not think Morvran regards me so well as I regard him.’
‘Ha. I completely relate there too.’
‘Really?’ Morwyn was surprised. ‘The Lady Tegid appears very fond of you.’
Gwion frowned, seriously wondering if she did love him or was just playing him for sport, then waved off his own woes. ‘One mystery at a time,’ he suggested. ‘Morvran fears you are under a spell.’ Had he been sober he might have been more subtle. ‘He believes someone has enchanted you to not see his flaws. Do you think that might be the case?’
‘No!’ Morwyn stood, offended by the idea, but then she softened her stance and sank back to a seat. ‘At least, I do not believe so. I have been dreaming of meeting Morvran ever since I heard the legend of his existence. I would pray to the Gods to send him to smite my monstrous father and . . .’ She appeared to have a sour taste in her mouth, and then forced a smile. ‘I have idolised Morvran in the past, but since meeting him I see that he is truly the kindest, sweetest soul I have ever known, and yet all men fear him.’
‘You are not wrong on either count.’ Gwion smiled.
‘If I have been enchanted, it was by the Lord himself, I feel absolutely sure of it.’
‘Have you told Morvran all this?’
‘Some,’ she said shyly, ‘but I don’t want him to think me a silly girl only starstruck by his legend.’
Gwion had a chuckle at this. ‘You would be the first.’
‘No.’ Morwyn didn’t believe him. ‘But he is so wonderful, and magic, and well . . . dreamy.’
Gwion laughed out loud again – this woman was truly priceless, one in a million.
‘What is funny?’
‘You think his devilish horns, pointed teeth, massive size and grating voice are dreamy?’ Gwion clarified, to ensure she did in fact see his friend as he truly was.
‘Yes, of course!’ She sounded like she could hardly beli
eve he would ask. ‘You forgot his eyes, blacker than a moonless night.’
‘And what if he was not a god of legend, would you love him just as well?’
‘He saved my life . . . and gave me hope that the rest of my existence might be worth living.’
Gwion teared up in empathy with her claim. ‘Good answer.’
‘So, what do you think, Great Merlin, am I enchanted?’
‘What did you just call me? I am not a bard, not a druid and most certainly not a merlin,’ he corrected before she had a chance to say a word.
‘I meant no offence, truly.’ She held her hands together in front of her heart, and Gwion released he was overreacting.
‘Touchy subject after the last few days.’ Gwion moved to raise himself.
‘Will you speak with Morvran for me?’ She stood also, to implore him.
‘I have already done so.’ He bowed out.
‘And still he avoids me.’ She was downhearted once more.
‘Morvran is not avoiding you; he really does have work to do.’ Gwion felt he was going to fall unconscious where he stood if he didn’t hit the hay soon. ‘My dear friend is not used to beautiful women lavishing their attention on him; you need to be a little patient.’
‘You think I am beautiful?’ She bit her lip, and looked to the floor a moment. ‘I am unused to hearing such compliments also. I thought maybe his lordship was just being kind.’
‘Hardly.’ Gwion grinned, recollecting Morvran’s description. ‘“Beyond ravishing” were his words.’
‘Really!’ Morwyn smothered her squeal of delight. ‘That is what he said?’
‘Word for word.’
‘Ha!’ She kissed Gwion’s cheek and hugged him briefly, before bouncing backwards a few paces. ‘Then my path is clear,’ she said with renewed determination and a clap of her hands. ‘Good talk.’
‘My pleasure.’ He waved from halfway inside his door. ‘Goodnight.’
‘A very good night.’
He withdrew and leaned on the back of his chamber door as it closed shut behind him – a sound that came as a great relief.
As his eyes parted with more ease this morning, it dawned on Gwion that he felt rather better than expected, and certainly vastly improved from yesterday’s rude awakening. A wash cleared his head completely, and with a thought of the sanctum he was thankful to be delivered there.
‘Thank goodness thought projection still works as I don’t even know how to get to here without it.’
‘You cannot.’ Keridwen was dicing fresh ingredients to add to the pot, and Morda was stirring it.
‘Hello, Morda,’ said Gwion. ‘Thank you for all the extra hours you had to work in my absence, I’ll make it up to you somehow.’
‘I did it for my Lady Tegid,’ the little man grouched. ‘If she has found better spirits, then that is payment enough.’
‘The Lady Tegid enjoyed her short escape very much.’ Although considering how last night had ended, all the good that had been done might now be undone. ‘Was the Lady in good spirits this morning, when you delivered Chiglas, Mistress?’ Gwion got right on to feeding the fire.
‘Well enough. Why do you ask?’ She cast an inquisitive look in his direction.
‘Just making conversation.’ Gwion felt it time to change the subject, and his eyes fell upon their brew.
It appeared not unlike a huge broth, which had an earthy aroma that was pleasant enough to smell, but did not entice one to taste.
‘When shall we know our brew is ready, Mistress?’ Through trial and error, Gwion had learned a thing or two about psychic self-defence. It seemed that the Goddess picked up on what was foremost in his mind. So basically, he didn’t think about what he didn’t want his mistress to know about, at least not in her presence. ‘Or is it just a matter of an allotted time passing? Or is it—’
‘Oh, do shut up long enough to let the Mistress answer your questions,’ Morda cut him off.
‘At the allotted time, this potion will begin to glow,’ she explained simply. ‘And once it does, we will only have a very short window of time to administer the brew to its recipient, whose blood it contains.’
‘Do you think Morvran will even need this if his romance with Morwyn flourishes?’
The Goddess stopped her grinding, perhaps disturbed by the question. ‘It is easy to be a happy man in these protective walls, but if anything were to happen to me? The gift of future sight will be invaluable to him, if only for his own protection.’
‘But Goddess, you are immortal and have been here for aeons, why would you worry about such things?’
‘I am old, Gwion. Tacitus is old. Physical existence has taken its toll on these physical bodies that we contort to our will, but cannot truly restore to their prime. This sub-realm I have established slows the effects but . . . well . . . when you have been around as long as we have, you too will desire to explore the spirit realms that lie beyond the Otherworld.’
‘You cannot leave, Mistress!’ Morda protested. ‘Where would I be without your patronage?’
‘Oh, not right away, Morda.’ Keridwen walked over, ruffled his hair and kissed the balding spot on top of his head. ‘I have children, and now a grandchild to raise, I am content enough for the time being.’
Gwion chuckled, relieved to hear Keridwen did not plan on leaving them any time soon. ‘I suspected you were being dramatic. How could I ever hope to live as long as you?’
‘How indeed?’ She looked to him as if he had the answer and she wished to be enlightened.
‘Is this another research project, Mistress? Or should I call you Ninharsag?’ He let her know he’d found the answer for the last assignment.
‘Which of my children put you out of your misery?’ Keridwen obviously knew he’d had aid.
‘Does it matter how one finds the answer, so long as one does?’ he posed winningly.
‘Creirwy,’ Keridwen stated surely. ‘Well, charm is a talent too, I guess.’ The way she said this rather belittled his accomplishment as she returned to her preparations.
And there was that word again; he couldn’t prevent his memory of being shunned by Creirwy the night before from reoccurring. ‘Mistress, you were there when Creirwy saved my life—’
‘I know what you are going to ask.’ She kept her eyes on her chore. ‘And the answer is no, I cannot tell you.’
Gwion gave a great deflated sigh. ‘Damn the Night Hunter for beating me to her.’
‘Shh.’ Keridwen paused to look to him. ‘We do not wish to evoke his anger before this deed is done.’
Gwion took pause as a very bad feeling crept over him. ‘Have you not asked the Night Hunter’s permission to aid Morvran thus?’
‘He will know by now what we are up to and has made no move to stop us.’ She resumed her grinding with more vigour.
He did not feel reassured, but was curious. ‘I was under the impression that the Night Hunter could not perceive what goes on in your realm, that you have complete autonomy. So how would the Night Hunter know that we are up to anything?’ Gwion stopped what he was doing, and approached his mistress to seek the answer.
‘It is true he does not perceive what goes on here, but once you cross that bridge you are open to his perception via all his minions—’
Gwion’s heart sank as he recollected his lady dragging herself back inside her mother’s realm last night. ‘It was my fault.’ In his gut he knew her pain was somehow connected to that kiss.
‘Gwion—’
His mistress’s call to waylay came too late; he’d already seen himself to the bridge, and from there ran all the way up to Creirwy’s cottage courtyard, where he found her hanging out washing.
‘I caused your painful episode last night, didn’t I?’ He was huffing and puffing, a pain constricting in his throat from withholding his tears.
‘I let you.’ She continued with her chore, with only a glance in his direction.
‘Why?’ Gwion appealed with all his being. ‘If you saved me
by vowing you would never love me, why say you love me?’ Was what he suspected even making sense – if it was, she wasn’t answering.
The Lady had stopped her task, but did not turn to face him.
‘Is that what you did?’
‘I cannot tell you.’
‘But I was the cause of your pain.’ She had all but confirmed that.
‘It seems I am not even allowed to think fondly of you now.’ She gritted her teeth and held her head. ‘The sweeter the memory,’ she turned to face him, smiling, yet face strained and stained with tears, ‘the greater the pain.’ She collapsed to her knees, not weeping, but seething. ‘I thought I could keep my emotions in check.’ She shook her head, her expression one of apology. ‘You are just too charming.’
Stop being charming. Now he understood.
She howled in pain and then seethed again. ‘My only defence is indifference, but hostility works faster.’
Gwion backed away. ‘I don’t want to cause you pain, but I don’t want to forgo your company altogether. I want to help with your chores, and—’
‘You have not the first clue how to be loathsome, do you, Gwion?’ She said this with spite, but now he knew it was not intended to hurt him, but aid her. ‘You must stay away. There is no point to our association any more. No hope for it.’
‘I understand,’ he said, while all the time thinking that there had to be another way.
While Chiglas was in her care, moving back inside Keridwen’s realm was not an option for Creirwy. The idea of not being able to visit her was devastating. Knowing that she was tortured by his company, or even just his memory, gutted him completely. The best he could hope for was that she would forget him.
Now it was clear that King Owain and his new bride were not the only ones for whom the Night Hunter had set a timeous trap. This development had blindsided Gwion and at this point in time there was absolutely nothing he could do but to comply with his lady’s request and make himself absent.
WISH LIST
The passing of the weeks saw the depths of winter descend. All through the stay-home time and the time of ice, snowfall blanketed the mountainsides as Lake Tegid slowly turned into a solid, craggy plain of brilliant white. The bleak outlook mirrored Gwion’s frame of mind – he may as well have been cast into a dark oubliette as be told he could no longer keep his lady’s company. Why did Gwyn ap Nudd disfavour him so? It mattered not. The Night Hunter’s malevolence only added fuel to his fire to find a means to free his lady from all her Otherworldly covenants; Gwion spent every spare moment he had between shifts in the sanctum and sleep, searching the library texts for clues.
This Present Past Page 28
