‘I am here to offer you an opportunity for release.’ Keridwen returned to her comely, youthful form.
Cadwallon looked to the child who was so fair and sweet of face that he could not tell at a glance the gender. ‘Am I to suppose this child has something to do with our discourse?’
‘If you will take this child as your ward it will be a great blessing on your house. I also have some very good advice to impart, and I shall release you from all other obligation to me.’
Caswallon was intrigued, but curious. ‘Why me? Why not Owain? He’s always been your favourite, has he not?’
‘Well.’ Keridwen smiled. ‘My reasons are entwined with the aforementioned advice.’
The astounding beauty of the Lady Tegid shone through the child, but the father was not so easy to determine. He’d already heard whispers that Owain had had a bastard by Creirwy; was this another?
‘You may rest assured he has no royal heritage, but more than that, I will not say.’
Caswallon felt extremely uncomfortable that the witch was most likely in his head reading his thoughts, but at least he knew the child’s sex now. ‘Does he have any of your unusual skills?’ That could prove very dangerous.
‘He is mortal,’ she claimed. ‘But does show promise with music and growing things.’
‘So you can play that harp, boy?’
‘Yes, Majesty,’ he said plainly, no fear, no boast.
‘Would you play for me?’
The boy looked to Keridwen, who nodded in encouragement.
Truth be told, Caswallon was not expecting much and was pleasantly surprised when the lad’s playing proved quite sweet on the ear. In conclusion the King applauded the effort, and the lad smiled shyly at the praise and bowed. Caswallon looked back to Keridwen, who raised both brows to suggest that he was no doubt impressed by her offering.
‘My son has need of a squire; perhaps your tunes can soothe the beast that seems to be brewing in him these days.’
Keridwen smiled down at the lad. ‘We would find that most acceptable.’
‘Now,’ Caswallon wanted to see his part of the bargain delivered. ‘About that advice—’
‘One moment.’ Keridwen knelt before the boy. ‘You shall forget me now, sweet boy, but I shall not forget you. I shall watch over you always.’ She kissed his forehead and they embraced.
‘I shall call for Drucilla.’ Caswallon rose.
‘No need,’ Keridwen advised, as his attention was diverted to a knock at the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘It is Drusilla, Majesty, you summoned me?’ She spoke through the door, and looking back to Keridwen, Caswallon found her absent, only the boy remained.
‘Where did she go?’ he queried the lad.
‘Who, Sire?’ The lad stared back at him with his large blue eyes, completely clueless.
‘Never mind.’ Caswallon realised that when Keridwen said the lad must forget her, she was not speaking metaphorically. ‘Come in, Drusilla.’
The usually rather stern head of the house staff melted into a smile at the site of the beauteous wee child in his company.
‘Drusilla, this is . . . What is your name, lad?’
‘I don’t have one,’ he said so sweetly, even the King’s own heart was starting to melt.
‘A man must have a name to make his mark, so we shall give you one.’ Caswallon had a think about it, but it was usually his wife that did the naming of children and pets.
‘If I may, Sire,’ Drusilla ventured to assist, and he nodded to welcome her suggestion, ‘Selwyn might suit; it means “friend in the castle”. Do you like that?’ She directed the query to the boy, brushing his long flaxen hair back behind his ears, and out of his face.
The lad nodded in approval.
‘Selwyn is to be Maelgwn’s new squire. Could you see that he is fed, dressed and housed accordingly.’
‘Of course, Highness, it would be my pleasure.’ She held out her hand and Selwyn took hold.
‘You show me great honour, Majesty.’ The boy bowed awkwardly, holding the maid’s hand and struggling with his instrument in the other.
‘You bring me good fortune,’ the King replied, content with the deal – provided the witch kept her part of the bargain.
‘I will,’ vowed the boy in earnest, which made Caswallon smile – Selwyn was certainly a likeable sort.
‘Majesty,’ Drusilla waylaid her leaving. ‘May I ask where Selwyn hails from?’
‘Never,’ Caswallon said simply. ‘He is a squire of our house now; whatever has gone before is no matter. If anyone is curious about my ward, you can direct their queries my way.’
Drusilla nodded to confirm and left the room with the lad.
His queen was bound to be curious about the boy, and this made Caswallon smile. He’d heard the rumours about Meddyf and Cadfer – that Caradoc was their child and not his – but the Queen was a tricky woman to read. Her lack of affection towards him and their firstborn of late had given him cause to wonder where her loyalty truly lay, but now, she would have cause to wonder about him also.
‘You have my deepest gratitude.’ Keridwen startled Caswallon as she appeared in the room once again.
‘No offence, great Lady, but I would prefer what I am owed.’ He offered her a seat by the fire, where she joined him for a cup of mead.
‘You don’t seem so fearful to me.’ She accepted a goblet from him.
‘I am much more trusting of someone to whom I am not in debt.’ He took a seat, feeling quite pleased to have his obligation to the Otherworld lifted. But still, trouble was coming.
‘Civil war is afoot.’ She got straight to the point.
‘Yes.’ Caswallon was eager to discuss it. ‘Is it true what they say, that Owain has a bastard by your daughter, and allowed Hengist to walk free?’
‘If you join Cadfer to destroy Owain, you will be the bastard’s next target. Make no mistake, it is your queen and all of the north he is after.’
Caswallon was fuming inside, for he knew she spoke the truth. ‘Your advice?’
‘On the day of battle be very careful whose side you are seen to take. Cadfer is a tyrant, and will prove as much, as will Owain’s bastard Chiglas.’
That was one claim confirmed that directly affected Caswallon’s ascent to king in Owain’s stead. ‘You must be seen as the last righteous son of Einion ap Cunedda, for that will be the truth of the matter. You are the only hope the Cymry have to escape the harsh oppression that will run rampant under the rule of those with whom you are considering alliance. They intend to use dark magic to achieve their ends; accept no gifts from them lest you become entrapped in the demon’s spell.’
‘What?’ Caswallon strongly resisted the suggestion and stood to expel his sudden angst. ‘Cadfer is ambitious but . . . sorcery? Could he be that stupid?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Can’t you do something?’
‘The Night Hunter has forbidden me to interfere.’
‘This is unbelievable!’
‘You don’t have to believe, Caswallon, just heed my warning and accept nothing from them. Evil clings to pretty things. When the day of Owain’s recompense comes, you must not have his blood on your hands, for in time, his people will mourn him and flock to your banner to avenge him.’
‘But did he do it?’ Caswallon was torn between his vow to avenge their father and his love for his oldest brother.
‘That is of no consequence.’ She drank her mead and placed the cup down.
‘Of course it is!’
‘You will never know, and may you never experience, the kind of sacrifices Owain has made and will yet make, to secure your dynasty’s kingdom. Deals with the Night Hunter are paid in emotional suffering, as my own recently departed daughter knows . . . as I now know. Owain knew this too and yet he did it anyway, for Cymru.’
Caswallon sat down again, suddenly sobered. ‘Can I help him?’
She shook her head. ‘This fate was his own design.’
>
‘Can I trust my queen?’
‘You can trust Brockwell and your sister; they have ties to the south and can rally their forces to your support if needs be.’
Caswallon rubbed his tired eyes, frustrated by her avoidance. ‘You did not answer my query—’ He looked back to find he was addressing an empty chair. ‘Damn the Gods!’ He stood and folded his arms, agitated.
But as he thought back over the conversation, he realised how much could be gleaned from what the crone had, or had not, said. From her avoidance, two things were plain: Owain had allowed Hengist to walk, and his queen was not to be trusted. Meddyf did seem to take particular delight in beating Maelgwn away from books, while Caradoc could do no wrong, despite being particularly ill-tempered and nasty. If Caradoc was really Cadfer’s then they would be looking to dispose of both himself and Maelgwn.
It seemed that granting Maelgwn’s desire to study in a monastery was not such a bad idea after all. Caswallon felt quite certain he could find one suitably remote to keep his true heir, and his new mysterious ward, safely tucked away from the forthcoming revolt.
THE SHINING BROW
In the ninety-eight months that remained of Keridwen’s pregnancy – ninety-eight full moon stays at the cottage at Llyn Tegid, by her perception – she received company only twice.
The first caller arrived only two seasons later – in the fall of the same year – which passed in but six days for Keridwen.
This stormy autumn eve she responded to a knock at the door and upon opening it found King Owain bleeding to death in a puddle of rain in her stony courtyard.
‘Owain!’ She teleported to his side and crouched down beside him. He had Drynwyn clutched with both hands against his chest.
‘Great Lady . . .’ He sounded most relieved to see her. ‘The debt is paid.’ He held the sword up to her, hands trembling from the effort, and she swiftly relieved him of his burden. ‘The enemy threw themselves at my sword like men possessed.’
If the bastards had summoned the she-demon, possessed was no doubt exactly what their troops were.
The Key of Electra was a text designed to summon a very powerful sorceress, Mahaud, born of the torture of Electra, the last High Priestess of Atlantis. The means for summoning this creature had been recorded by the God Shamash and hidden in dark places for desperate humans to find. Most of these copies Keridwen had sought out and destroyed, but the original text, now in the possession of Chiglas and Cadfer, was imperishable.
‘Five hundred and forty-two souls, then Drynwyn’s flame expired,’ Owain stated for the record that had always been in doubt. ‘I was exhausted by the time Chiglas and Cadfer stepped in to finish me . . .’
‘And Caswallon?’
‘It was rumoured he had sided with our brother, but his forces did not show. Only Brockwell.’ The King began to weep. ‘Cyngen alone rode from Gwynedd to my aid, and now the greatest warrior ever born is dead . . . our fatal wounds inflicted by the sword of the man whom we first sought to destroy.’ This betrayal clearly bit at his soul.
The King had a few gashes, but the nastiest of these was a deep wound down his leg.
‘You could not possibly have ridden here like this?’ Keridwen gazed about – they were alone, there was not even a spare horse.
‘No!’ He fought for coherence. ‘There was a druid. He stopped my enemies from ripping me limb from limb and then spirited me here, to settle my score with you.’
‘Spirited you here.’ Keridwen found this most curious, for no druid she’d ever known had possessed such power. Only one human she’d met to date could accomplish such things and he was growing in her womb right now.
‘He told me I should not worry . . .’ the King’s eyelids began to droop, and then closed, ‘because he . . .’ Breath rushed from his body. Owain ceased quivering and fell limp.
Keridwen closed his eyelids, feeling a dark empty void erupting inside her – it felt as though pain and regret would swallow her whole. They were all gone now, every soul in the human world she’d held close. Perhaps she should not have stayed on this planet – this race she’d helped create may have been beyond redemption – yet the memory of her father’s splendid being kept her here. She retrieved the sword and approached the low walls beside the cottage that overlooked the drop into the lake. ‘One day, Night Hunter, you will know what it is to love and lose!’ she yelled into the storm raging around her, angry at herself as she flung Drynwyn back into the lake whence it came. As it hit the water, the rain abruptly stopped.
I know, all right.
Keridwen turned back to Owain’s body.
The Night Hunter was standing over him, but his gaze was firmly fixed on her. Thanks to your father.
‘You know what it is to want something and not get it, not the same at all. One day you too will have to learn the lessons you inflict on others.’
They inflict these things on themselves! the Lord stated indignantly. I have no plans to do the same.
Now she understood how her father must have felt trying to reason with his Nefilim offspring. ‘It’s about growth, evolution, ascension! All or none.’
You are starting to sound like that old fool, Gwyn scoffed at her view.
‘We shall see who is the fool.’ She wept a quiet tear for her nephew and all her kind, so hopelessly lost, and completely oblivious.
You forget to whom you speak! You think I don’t know your true intent.
Surely the Night Hunter also realised that somehow the child she carried would escape his wrath. ‘You cannot fight love, and you can never know true wisdom without it.’
Your earthly attachments have made you weak. He approached her to look over her face. Your eyes are leaking.
There was no point trying to explain the phenomenon. ‘Why are you here?’
I came for the body. Gwyn returned to the King’s corpse. The death of a legend must never be witnessed and the body hidden where it can never be found. That’s what you need, isn’t it? An icon of selflessness and goodness to inspire others etc.
‘Are you being . . . helpful?’
Well, since you allowed those bastards to get their hands on a demon from the sub-planes, it’s a bit of a bloody mess down here. I keep telling you, Aunt, we are on the same side, but you keep letting down the team.
‘Oh, I allowed them to get their hands on The Key of Electra? You forbade me to interfere!’
Try relocating your feeble daughter! There’s a whole world out there, you realise?
‘But this is home.’
Dear Gods, Aunt, we need to get you out of here. This is a dream, remember? Home is a silly, sentimental, emotional, human construct!
‘And yet it has taught me things you are yet to learn. Every construct in the universe has a purpose.’
Her nephew slapped his palm against his forehead. I give up. His attention returned to the King before him. He did rather exceed my expectations, this one . . . his legend will be no lie.
‘He is Grigori, and bound to be extraordinary.’
There are a lot of your Grigori incarnate at present and not all are doing so admirably. But I like this one, I choose him.
‘You choose him for what?’
Never you mind. He grinned mischievously. You make your plans for the future, Aunt, and I shall make mine. I hope your game plan is farsighted, for mine certainly is.
‘You can’t keep every good human soul who develops out of the reincarnation loop as soon as they threaten to come close to enlightenment.’
Who do you think is allowing all your precious Grigori to reincarnate at present? You’ve got more than enough to work with.
‘How am I to do anything from the Otherworld?’ She used the opportunity to appeal her fate.
I manage. Gwyn grinned. There is the power of suggestion, possession, dreams, and if that doesn’t work, visitation . . . you can awe your precious little kings into submission. It’s time you detach from outcomes here; you’ll not like what is coming.
�
��Owain served you well. Please do not stifle his soul development; we need all the Grigori if we are to succeed.’
Gwyn rolled his eyes as he slowly wiped his hands down his face to emphasise his frustration. I am not going to stifle his development, I am going to expedite it. If I am ever to evolve in this scheme, I must have a replacement.
Keridwen gasped in awe of the fact that the Lord of the Otherworld would consider a human soul a worthy replacement.
He’s not worthy . . . yet. He needs other experiences that he will not gain in the human soul loop, but he will rejoin his Grigori incarnate when the time is right.
‘Much like Father has done.’
He is a special case. Gwyn pointed at her belly. He cheated and he will pay with his immortal life.
Keridwen knew his threats were idle ones. ‘You may oversee human soul-mind evolution, but you are not the creatrix; what she intends cannot be evaded.’
I am the Lord of the elemental kingdoms; there is not a place in this world, this universe, where those minions faithful to me do not exist! At least, not any more. He glanced to where Castell Tegid had been, and then back to her. So we shall see whose will creation favours this time, Aunt. The Lord of the Otherworld vanished, the dead King along with him.
The rain began to pour once more, and the miserable night descended.
The child in her belly began kicking, as if to remind her that she was not alone and all was not lost. She folded her arms around her belly to hug it, and recalling what Owain had told her, she realised, I have no need to worry. You have already survived.
Ninety-two full moons later, Keridwen arrived at Llyn Tegid for the last time. She had gone into labour the full moon previous, but had not given birth. Hence, today she arrived at the cottage already having lengthy contractions.
‘Ah!’ she cried out as soon as she transitioned into a fully physical state of being, and keeled forward to endure it.
Time in the Otherworld to her felt instantaneous, so this pregnancy had not seemed any longer than normal from her perspective. A year passed in weeks. The world and its events, to which she was oblivious, just moved on around her. There was no point even attempting to keep abreast of it. The child in her belly was her only anchor to this existence, and that last tie was about to be cut.
This Present Past Page 40
