by Holly Taylor
“She’s beautiful,” Gwydion said softly, lightly brushing his forefinger against her smooth cheek.
“Yes, she is,” Ygraine said softly, but Gwydion noticed she had not taken her eyes from Arthur.
Gwydion crossed the room and knelt down beside the boy, who gravely returned his gaze. “Hello, Arthur. I’m your Uncle Gwydion.”
Arthur swiftly looked up at his mother for confirmation. She nodded and Arthur returned his gaze to Gwydion, filing away this new bit of information.
“I’m sorry about the tower, Arthur. We didn’t mean to scare you.” Another long pause. “Can you say hello to me?”
“Hello,” Arthur said briefly, then stared down at the floor.
“Arthur is shy,” Ygraine said softly.
“I was, too.” He handed a block to Arthur. “Shall we build again?”
Arthur said nothing, but he reached for the block and set it on the floor. Gwydion placed a second block on top of the first and the two rebuilt the tower in silence. Then they sat back to examine their handiwork.
“What do you think?” Gwydion asked.
“Good,” Arthur replied.
“Yes, it is good. I agree.” Gwydion looked over at Ygraine. “A man of few words, I see.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I wonder where he gets it?”
Ygraine almost smiled, but caught herself in time. She studied Gwydion, then said, “Tell me, and try not to lie for once. My son is being tested today. What are you up to?”
“Ygraine, he’s my nephew,” he said, with exaggerated patience, playing for time. “I’m just showing some interest.”
“No you’re not. You never show interest in anyone—unless you want to use him or her for something. So, tell me this, Gwydion, how do you intend to use my son? And what makes you think I will let you do that?”
Gwydion opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the sound of horses hooves clattering in the courtyard below reached them. A babble of voices floated up through the open windows.
“Uthyr has returned. I hope the hunt was good,” Ygraine mused. “Don’t you want to go down and see him?”
“You want me to leave?” Gwydion asked innocently.
“Yes.”
“I think I’ll just wait here for a while. He’ll drop in, I’m sure.” As the two sat in silence Gwydion fixed his gaze on Arthur who had been quietly playing with his wooden blocks. The child had built another tower beside the first and was attempting to construct a bridge. “Need any help?” Gwydion asked.
“No, thank you, Uncle Gwydion,” Arthur replied politely, not lifting his eyes from the construction.
Within moments Duach and Uthyr were at the chamber door. “He’s here,” said Duach, gesturing to Uthyr. “Shall I fetch Susanna now?”
“Please,” Gwydion said getting to his feet.
“Gwydion! Brother!” Uthyr exclaimed, as he swiftly crossed the room and enveloped Gwydion in a gargantuan bear hug. “I didn’t know you were coming!” Uthyr turned to Ygraine and kissed her lightly.
He went to the cradle and gently touched sleeping Morrigan’s fresh face. Then he picked up his young son and tossed him high into the air. Arthur giggled delightedly. Uthyr caught the boy and held him close. Seeing them face to face Gwydion noted that the resemblance was very strong. Arthur would have his mother’s auburn hair and dark eyes, but his face was Uthyr’s.
“Well, boyo, are you ready to take a trip soon?” Uthyr asked, and Arthur nodded his answer.
“Where is he going?” Gwydion said sharply.
“Why, he’s going to the graduation ceremonies at the colleges in Gwytheryn. They start in a few weeks. He’s the heir, so he has to deliver the gifts for the graduates from Gwynedd.”
“Are you going with him?” Gwydion asked.
“No. Susanna and Cai will go with Arthur. Ygraine and I will stay here this year, with Morrigan.”
Gwydion nodded absently, his mind racing. A trip to Gwytheryn opened possibilities that could give Gwydion the chance he needed to settle Arthur’s future.
“Isn’t Arthur a little young to be going?” he asked.
Uthyr shrugged. “No younger than I was the first time. Well, little brother, it’s good to see you! Are you here for the Plentyn Prawf then?”
Gwydion swallowed. Now it begins, he thought. “Uthyr. Ygraine. I need to talk to you both.”
Uthyr’s smile faded as he took a good look at Gwydion’s tense, tired face. Gently, he set Arthur down and straightened. “What is it?” he asked in a tight voice.
“The testing. Please, Uthyr, sit down.”
Uthyr drew up a chair next to his wife. “All right. I’m sitting,” Uthyr said firmly. “What is it?”
“I’ve sent for Susanna. Arthur must be tested privately. Here and now.”
“Why?” Ygraine asked coldly. “Heirs are always tested in public, just like all the other children.”
“Because I think I know what we will find; and because the results must not be known publicly. Not yet.”
“And what do you expect to find?” Uthyr asked slowly.
“I think you know.”
Uthyr did not reply. Ygraine turned to her husband, but before she could question him, Susanna was at the door with Duach right behind her.
“Thank you, Duach,” Gwydion said as he went swiftly to the door and pulled Susanna into the room. “I’ll send for you if we need anything.” Gwydion quickly shut the door on Duach’s surprised and curious face.
“Did you bring the testing device?” Gwydion asked.
Susanna wore a simple gown of gray wool. Her hair was loose and disheveled, and she was barefoot. “Yes,” she said acidly. “I brought it. I was also busy when Duach came and hauled me over here. Griffi may never forgive you for this. I know I won’t.”
Gwydion said simply, “It’s important, Susanna.”
The Bard was instantly serious. “All right,” she said quietly. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to test Arthur. Now.”
Susanna’s eyes widened in surprise. “But—”
“Please. Just do it.” Something in his tone immediately stopped all protest. Slowly, Susanna moved to where Arthur sat on the floor, once again playing with his blocks. She knelt down beside him, taking a small square object from the folds of her gown. “Hello, Arthur. Do you remember me? I’ve been gone a long time.”
Arthur looked at her, gravely considering her question. “Yes. You are Susanna. You play music.”
“Yes,” Susanna smiled. “And I do other things too. I travel all over Gwynedd and I meet many children. And when I meet them I do a little test, called the Plentyn Prawf, which means Child Test. And the test tells us if a child has a special talent. Like if they can talk to animals or see things in their minds from far away. Or if they can make things move without touching them.”
“I can’t do those things,” Arthur said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Well, you never know. I have a test to find out. Do you want me to find out about you?”
“Will it hurt?” He didn’t seem apprehensive, just curious.
“No. You’ll just feel a little prick at the end of your finger.”
Arthur considered her request for a moment, then nodded for her to go ahead.
Susanna held out the small square box. The opening at one end was just large enough to insert a finger. The box was made of some kind of silvery material that glistened in the sunlight. The top of the box was decorated with jewels. In the very center there was a group of onyx stones, arranged in a figure-eight pattern around a bloodstone. Grouped around these stones were a large pearl, a sapphire, an emerald, and an opal. At the far corners other jewels nested—amethyst, topaz, ruby, and a diamond beside a garnet.
“You put your finger in here,” Susanna explained, “and if you have a special talent, if you are one of the Y Dawnus, one of these jewels will glow.”
Arthur leaned forward and gazed solemnly at the jewels. “Which ones?”
“Like Uncle Gwydion.”
“Yes,” Susanna smiled. “Like your Uncle Gwydion.”
“What about the others?” Arthur asked.
“The diamond is for Sirona of the Stars and the garnet for Grannos the Healer. The ruby is for Y Rhyfelwr, the Warrior Twins, Camulos and Agrona. Those don’t light up, but are there for us to remember whom they represent. The amethyst and the topaz are for Cerridwen and Cerrunnos, the Protectors of Kymru. The topaz and the amethyst will glow for anyone who is Kymri. In the middle is the onyx for Annwyn, the Lord of Chaos and the bloodstone is for his wife Aertan, the Weaver of Fate, the King and Queen of the Otherworld.”
“Just a moment, Susanna.” Gwydion went to the windows, and closed the shutters one by one.
“It’s too dark now,” Ygraine said acidly. “I can barely see.”
With a gesture, all the candles in the room lit at once with Druid’s Fire. “Is that better?” Gwydion asked. Without waiting for an answer he nodded at Susanna. “Go ahead.”
“All right, Arthur, just put your finger in this opening here on the side of the box.”
Arthur did so and for a moment nothing happened. The box made a slight clicking sound and then began to whir quietly.
Suddenly, shockingly, every jewel on the box began to glow. Bright columns of light shot up from each jewel, mingling together on the ceiling. Brighter and brighter the jewels glowed and the humming sound grew louder and louder. Gwydion jumped to Susanna’s side and pulled the box away from her frozen hands, pulling Arthur’s finger out at the same time. Instantly the lights and the noise cut off, as though a door to another world had been abruptly shut.
Little Morrigan began to cry and Ygraine went to the cradle and swiftly picked her up, hushing her. Arthur, startled, did not cry, but his lower lip trembled. Uthyr reached down and picked his son up, cuddling him in his lap. The comfort of his father’s arms quieted the child, but his eyes were wide.
“It was too loud,” Gwydion explained. “Another minute and everyone would have come to see what was happening.”
“Gods, I’ve never seen that before! I’ve heard of it but never—” Susanna said.
“It hasn’t happened for over two hundred years.” Gwydion said tightly.
Susanna, still shocked, turned to Uthyr. “Did you know?”
“I guessed,” Uthyr admitted, his voice shaking.
“You never said anything to me,” Ygraine said, coldly eyeing her husband as she continued to hush Morrigan.
“I asked him not to,” Gwydion broke in.
Ygraine turned her cold stare to Gwydion. “Why?”
Gwydion took a deep breath. “This must be a secret for now. No one else must know.”
“What?” Ygraine’s voice was shrill. “How dare you? My son, my son is to be the High King. And you want to stop it? You can’t stand the idea of a High King in Kymru again? Someone that might prevent you from doing exactly as you please? You—”
Gwydion face was pale with anger. “Shut up,” he hissed. “You stupid fool, I’m trying to keep your son alive.”
“You lie,” Ygraine snapped.
Uthyr raised his hand and silence abruptly descended. “Susanna,” he said quietly, “please take Arthur to the kitchens and get him something to eat. And please take Morrigan to her nurse.” Ygraine handed Morrigan to Susanna as Uthyr went on. “And, until I tell you otherwise, what happened here today did not happen.” Susanna nodded. Uthyr looked down at his son. “Arthur, do you understand? Not a word to anyone.”
“Yes Da.”
“All right. Go with Susanna. And, Susanna, not a word—not even to Griffi.” Susanna nodded again and held out her hand to Arthur. The three left the room quietly.
Stern, Uthyr turned to his wife. “You will not speak again, Ygraine, until Gwydion explains himself.” Gwydion had never heard Uthyr speak in that tone to his wife before. Apparently, neither had Ygraine. Her hands tightened on the arms of her chair until her knuckles were white, but she did not speak.
“All right, Gwydion. Explain. And it had better be good,” Uthyr said grimly.
Gwydion hesitated, and then chose his words very carefully. “You know that the special talent of a High King is that he acts as a focal point. For instance, telepathy is limited in distance. A telepathic Bard can comfortably talk to another Bard up to fifteen leagues away. Beyond that, the conversation becomes garbled. Clairvoyant Dewin can see events that are happening at that moment up to thirty leagues away. And psychokinetic Druids can move objects only in their immediate vicinity—they have to actually see what they are moving. And the largest limitation of all is that groups can’t act together. A group of Dewin all trying to see one event can’t reach out any farther than thirty leagues.” Gwydion paused, then went on.
“But a High King makes all the difference. Alone, he has none of these powers. But his presence augments all of them. He can direct and amplify these powers through those that possess them. A High King could empower a group of Dewin to see events many hundreds of leagues away. Or allow Bards to communicate, in concert, all over the country. He can augment the powers of a group of Druids to move or to set fire to objects many leagues away that they can’t even see. With his help, Druids can bring a storm or fog. That’s why a High King acts as the warleader for Kymru. He can coordinate communication across the land, direct a battle taking place many leagues away, even start a fire in the enemy camp, without getting anywhere near the place.”
Gwydion paused again, looking down at the floor. “This is why a High King has been born to us now. Because sometime soon, we will have need of one.”
Ygraine, who had never taken her eyes off Gwydion, stirred slightly. “You have told us there will be a need for a High King. Why, then, must it be a secret?”
“The Protectors have come to me in my dreams. They tell me that there are traitors among us. If Arthur’s true nature is known, he will be in great danger. He will die.” Gwydion leaned forward in his chair, willing them to understand. “He must be protected. I beg you, let me hide him. Let me protect him.” He paused again, searching their faces. “I beg you,” he whispered.
“You think that Uthyr cannot protect his own child?” Ygraine asked coolly.
Gwydion’s gaze fell under Uthyr’s stare. “No,” Gwydion said softly. “He cannot. I must do this. The Protectors have given me the task.”
“You are telling me that I must send my son away? For you to bring up? You will teach and care for him? You?” Ygraine asked bitterly.
“No, not I. Myrrdin will.”
“Myrrdin? How can that be? He is the Ardewin. You can’t hide Arthur at Myrrdin’s side!” Ygraine exclaimed.
“I will persuade Myrrdin to step down as Ardewin and take up this task.”
“And where will Myrrdin take him should we agree to your plan?” Ygraine asked.
“There’s a small village that I know of, in Eryi. Myrrdin will take him there.”
“To do what?”
“To herd sheep,” Gwydion said simply.
“You want to raise my son as a shepherd?” Ygraine asked in outraged tones.
“For a time, yes.”
Uthyr, who had not spoken a word, suddenly stood. He strode to the window, opened the shutters and leaned out, his hands resting on the windowsill, his back to his wife and brother. The room was silent as Ygraine and Gwydion waited for Uthyr to speak.
“And will you tell him who he is?” Uthyr said quietly. “Will he forget us?”
“Myrrdin will be sure that Arthur doesn’t forget you.”
“And if we do not agree to let you do this, what then?” Uthyr asked.
/>
“Then Arthur will die. The Protectors have told me so. In my dreams there is a figure of darkness that menaces Arderydd, the symbol of the High King. Only because I protect him is the eagle still alive,” Gwydion said simply.
Ygraine and Uthyr looked at each other. “I say no,” Ygraine said firmly. “Uthyr can protect his own son. We will see to it that Arthur will be safe.”
“Ah, Ygraine, you always did have such faith in me,” Uthyr said, a sad smile on his face. He turned to Gwydion, with anguish in his eyes. “Take him.”
“What?” Ygraine cried, stunned. “How can you—”
“I say yes. Gwydion dreams true. You seem to forget that, Ygraine. Whatever else you think of him, he dreams true.”
“Maybe,” Ygraine spat out. “But he doesn’t tell all he knows. I don’t trust him.”
“But I do. And I trust Myrrdin, too, to bring up my beloved son.” Uthyr’s voice broke. Clearing his throat, he went on. “It shall be done as Gwydion wishes. And what happened here today will never be spoken of.” Uthyr went to Ygraine and took her hand, kneeling down by her chair. “Ygraine, cariad, it breaks my heart, too, to send my son away. But if we don’t he will die. I believe this.”
Ygraine gazed at her husband, tears in her eyes. She swallowed hard, and placed her other hand on top of his. She nodded slightly, but did not speak. Uthyr lightly touched her face, then stood. “When?” he asked Gwydion.
“When Susanna and Arthur go to Gwytheryn for the graduation ceremonies I shall go with them, to talk to Myrrdin. Three months from now I will return here, and take Arthur with me to the village where Myrrdin will be waiting.”
“Three months,” Ygraine said in a toneless voice.
“I’m sorry, Ygraine. But the sooner the better.”
“I just had a thought,” Uthyr said. “What about the Plentyn Prawf? How can we excuse Arthur not being tested publicly?”
“Oh, he will be,” Gwydion said easily.
“But you just said—”
“Leave that to Susanna and I. Arthur will be tested this afternoon like everyone else. And his test will show that he has no special talents.”
