The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy

by Lowri Thomas

  ‘You’re right, Gwyn,’ Dai shouted back, as he opened the driver’s door. ‘You wait here – if he’s down at the fields already I’ll let him know you’re worrying. See you later.’ With a wave Dai Jones disappeared back into the night.

  Gwyn dismally closed the back door, he had felt a surge of hope when he saw the car coming but his dad was still missing.

  ‘You should go look for him,’ Nerys said again.

  ‘For god’s sake, woman, give it a rest, will you?’ Gwyn yelled and Bara began to bark as if agreeing with Nerys. Gwyn ran his hand through his hair and blew out through his pursed lips. ‘Go fetch me a torch.’

  He grabbed his stoutest jacket and pulled on his Wellington boots while Anwen fumbled through the kitchen drawers looking for a torch. She checked the batteries and planted the sturdy rubber-coated light in Gwyn’s outstretched hand.

  ‘You both stay here, lock the door behind me and wait until I get back,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll take Bara with me, she might be able to help.’ He grabbed at Bara’s collar and secured it to a thick leather lead, wrapping it twice around his free hand to keep it tight. ‘I’ll not lose you too,’ he said to Bara, as she leapt at the door.

  ‘No more than an hour, Gwyn,’ Nerys warned. ‘You’ll be soaked to the skin by then.’

  ‘Where shall I start?’ he asked, as he opened the door letting the rain splash onto the hallway floor tiles.

  ‘Down by the big oak, head towards the forest,’ Anwen advised nervously, chewing her lip. With a nod Gwyn left the house, Bara straining at her lead.

  Anwen dashed upstairs and ran into Nerys’ room. She leaned heavily against the windowsill and waited for Gwyn’s torchlight to appear in the fields below the house. She could barely follow his path as the tiny torchlight swept left and right, disappearing and reappearing through the squall. Her breath kept misting the glass and she had to repeatedly rub the window with the sleeve of her cardigan to follow the light until it finally disappeared behind the hedgerow.

  She strained to hear Gwyn’s voice or Bara’s bark above the tempest, but all she could hear was the tap-tap-tap of the rain, the whooshing of the wind through the trees and her own heartbeat thumping in her ears.

  ‘They’ll come back safe and sound, I’m sure of it,’ Nerys said from the doorway.

  ‘No you’re not.’ Anwen’s voice was low and filled with torment as she wiped the window again, she wiped her face too; she couldn’t see properly if her eyes were blurred with tears.

  ‘Not what?’

  ‘Not sure.’ Anwen didn’t look behind her, she kept her eyes fixed on the fields waiting for Gwyn’s torchlight to reappear. ‘You wouldn’t have badgered Gwyn so if you thought everything was alright … are they going to get me too, Aunt Nerys?’

  Nerys opened her mouth to speak but the lights suddenly dimmed before returning to full brightness. They both looked up to the ceiling lightshade but the lights remained on, then they looked at each other.

  Nerys stood stock still, her head tipped to one side listening, her hand slipped into her pocket and gripped something within its folds. Anwen watched as Nerys’ expression changed to a glower of determined, calm anger.

  ‘What is it?’ Anwen whispered above the thumping of her heart in her chest. She began shaking, her face draining of colour.

  ‘Shh.’ Nerys raised a finger to her lips and continued to listen intently. Moments stretched as the two women waited for a sound, a warning, but Anwen could hear nothing above the sound of her own heartbeat.

  Finally Nerys relaxed but she reached for the light switch and turned it off, plunging the bedroom into darkness. ‘You’ll see Gwyn better with the light off. I’ll go make us some tea.’ Slowly Nerys made her way to the kitchen, pausing on the landing before committing herself to the stairs. Anwen returned to her vigil at the window.

  At first Anwen thought she was imaging things. She could see tiny dots of lights streaming towards the direction of the oak tree, following Gwyn’s path. She counted three or maybe four in all, coming on a swift tangent to meet the track that led through the paddock and into the fields beyond. Anwen called down to Nerys and the lights dimmed for a second time.

  ‘Nerys! Nerys?’ Anwen called, swivelling her head to the hallway and back to the window. ‘Nerys?’ Anwen called again, more urgently.

  Anwen heard a din of shattering crockery from the kitchen downstairs and she sprang to her feet, darting onto the landing and peering down into the well of the stairs. The hallway was in darkness, only the light from the kitchen gave a most meagre hint of elucidation in the murky depths and Anwen was fearful to delve into that darkness. ‘Nerys?’ she whispered again. Nerys didn’t reply.

  Nerys was in the kitchen backed against the Aga as the shadowy figure of a Druid blocked her exit into the hallway. He stood a head taller than her and his bulk promised brute strength. His sudden presence had startled her, causing her to drop the tea tray she carried. It had hit the floor with a thunderous crash, spraying boiling water, milk and crockery shards across the floor. Nerys could hear Anwen calling her name but the Druid had shaken his head in warning and Nerys remained quiet. He didn’t take his eyes off Nerys and he took a step back into the hallway listening for Anwen’s descent, but Anwen remained upstairs. Good girl.

  The Druid seemed indecisive, he had two women in two separate areas of the house, and he obviously wasn’t comfortable with the situation he found himself in. He waited a moment more before stepping back into the kitchen. ‘Call her,’ he whispered to Nerys. Nerys shook her head, remaining silent.

  ‘Nerys?’ Anwen’s voice called downstairs again, softer this time, more wary.

  The Druid raised a single eyebrow and smirked. He pulled out a bowed Buck knife and held the flashing blade towards Nerys threateningly. Nerys was repulsed by the misshapen hand that held the blade, more of a claw than a hand and she gulped but remained silent while slowly, slyly sliding her hand into her dress pocket. The Druid stepped back into the hallway to listen to Anwen’s foot press on the first tread of the stair.

  The Druid again moved silently back into the kitchen, turning himself sideways on to Nerys to hide behind the kitchen door. He cast furtive glances between Nerys and the door, he was obviously worried Nerys was going to alert Anwen, which of course she was, but not before she was ready to strike.

  Her cue was Anwen’s call from halfway down the stairs, ‘Nerys, please, I’m scared.’ Nerys’ heart nearly broke in two at the pitiful sound of her frightened niece stumbling blindly in the darkness of the hallway. Bracing herself, Nerys took a deep breath and rushed at the Druid screaming, ‘Run, Anwen, run!’ at the top of her lungs as she threw her full weight behind the small open pocket knife she held in her hand. It was not large enough to compete with the Druid’s buck knife, but it was large enough and sharp enough to slice his shocked face and cause a distraction long enough for Anwen to escape.

  The Druid was pressed against the fridge by the momentum of Nerys’ attack. He felt the sharp sting of the blade as it carved into his cheek just below his eye and down to his jawline, he felt her mass press against him as she slammed his twisted spine painfully against the cold metal of the fridge door. He tried to push back to regain his footing but she thrust her weight forward again, ramming him a second time, her face distorted by her efforts, she huffed and grunted through her jowly twisted mouth as she fought to protect the girl.

  As his initial shock wore off it was quickly replaced with revulsion as the woman’s clammy skin touched his. He almost shrank back as she pressed against him, his skin crawling to get away from her pudgy, grabbing hands.

  He lifted his blade and lashed out wildly, revelling in the sensation of steel meeting skin and bone, she recoiled at the contact and staggered back clutching her left arm tight to her chest. A ribbon of blood was blossoming through her slashed dress sleeve, her knife dropping from her right hand and skating across the kitchen floor, under the table out of reach. Her face was blotched with exertion but th
e colour was quickly draining away as the Druid pushed himself away from the fridge to loom above her.

  He glanced at the back door hanging agape, swinging back and forth as the wind intruded into the house, battling against the warmth as it entered.

  ‘Where will she run?’ Afagddu turned his attention back to Nerys who had collapsed on the floor, nursing her injured arm.

  Nerys raised her head slowly; she could feel her blood pumping out of her arm and down her torso to pool in her lap. ‘I believe in one God,’ she began, as she stared into the face of the invader, ‘Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth and of all things visible and invisible.’

  ‘Where will she go?’ He let his own blood trickle down his face and drip onto his chest.

  ‘And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God,’

  ‘Tell me where!’

  ‘Begotten of the Father before all worlds …’ Her breath was coming in shallow gasps, her head was swimming.

  ‘You will tell me now, witch, where will she go?’ Afagddu grabbed Nerys’ hair and yanked her head back mercilessly to stare into her eyes.

  ‘Go to hell, Gigfran,’ Nerys spat.

  ‘Ladies first.’ With a terrible grin Afagddu placed his hands around Nerys’ neck and began to mercilessly strangle the last breaths from her body.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  The Druid hounds were the first to reach Gwyn as he knelt beside the still form of his father. He had nearly missed his father lying under the tree as a flock of sheep had gathered around him to share his shelter.

  Gwyn had rushed to his father’s side. Dafydd looked asleep, cosy and warm with his hands tucked in his pockets and his jacket pulled tight. ‘Dad?’ Gwyn shook his father gently. ‘Dad, wake up.’

  Bara pawed and licked at her master but Dafydd remained unconscious. Gwyn felt panic rising within, he needed to get help. He spun towards the house. Too far, he decided. ‘Help! Help!’ he yelled into the night. ‘For the love of light, someone help!’ But no-one came, no-one was there. He knelt down next to his father and pulled him in an embrace. Dafydd’s head lulled to the side and Gwyn grabbed to hold his father safe. He rocked his father back and forth talking to him. ‘Dad, come on, I can’t carry you. Please wake up.’

  Gwyn realised he was crying but he didn’t care, he felt helpless and confused. He scrunched his eyes tight and prayed, ‘God, please help, please help, oh please.’

  Gwyn’s eyes snapped open as he heard a distant shout, he lifted his head and yelled at the top of his lungs, ‘Help! Over here! Help!’ He spun his head left and right, squinting into the darkness as silver slashes of rain sliced through the inky night, making it impossible to see further than a few feet outside the oak tree’s canopy.

  Gwyn heard an answering call and spotted the first torchlight heading towards him. ‘Here over here!’ he yelled. Two large shadowy figures padded in the shadows just out of sight. Gwyn knew what they were, who they must be with. ‘It’s alright Dad,’ Gwyn jostled his father, ‘help’s coming.’

  Bara was whining and growling, her hackles raised as she stood over her master protecting him from the two sniffing, snarling Helgi that padded around the tree waiting for their masters.

  The hounds’ Keepers were next into the shelter, quickly followed by Dai Jones, Trevor Ellis and Bryn Wisgi, all panting to catch their breath.

  Gwyn pulled Bara away from Dafydd as the two Druids knelt down to either side of him, their eyes were full of concern as they looked to Gwyn. ‘Your father lives, Dafydd of Ty Mawr, but his pulse is weak, help us to lift him, we must get him home.’ They motioned for the other men to help.

  The eldest of the Druids removed his cloak and instructed them to use it as a makeshift stretcher for Dafydd. Dai Jones removed his jacket and used it to shield Dafydd’s face and body from the worst of the rain as they made a dash towards the house, Gwyn running ahead with Bara at his heels.

  As they approached the house Gwyn began shouting for Nerys and Anwen but no-one came to meet him. He hesitated as he reached the yard, he could see the back door was swinging open, the lights in the house were blazing but there was no sign of the women.

  ‘Anwen? Nerys?’ Gwyn called as he approached the door. Bara was straining at her leash, scraping her nails as she fought for purchase on the stone slabs. ‘Anwen, where are you? Nerys?’ he called, as he entered the house.

  Gwyn stood dumbfounded - where had they gone? The kitchen was empty, the whole house felt empty.

  ‘Make way!’ shouted Dai Jones, as he bustled in backwards through the door almost running into Gwyn.

  ‘Come on, come on!’ yelled Bryn Wisgi from outside, ‘What’s the hold up?’

  ‘Get him in, get him in!’ Dai Jones yelled back, pulling on the cloak. ‘On the sofa, quick as you can!’ he directed, as he led the way down the hall.

  ‘Where’s Anwen and Nerys – Gwyn?’ Dai Jones shouted from the living room.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Gwyn began to make a search of the house, ‘Anwen! Nerys!’ he yelled, as he bolted upstairs dragging Bara behind him. He flung open every door. ‘Anwen! Anwen!’ he called out desperately. He trapped Bara in his father’s room and left her whining and scratching at the door before meeting Dai in the hallway. ‘She’s not down here, Gwyn. Go to your father, I’ll check the barns.’

  Dai rushed past the Druids and headed for the outbuildings. He skirted around the two huge hounds waiting patiently at the back door, their heads hanging low, and accepting the rain as it pelted them.

  He called Anwen’s and Nerys’ name in turn, shouting at the top of his voice, and checked every nook and cranny of every barn, shed and outbuilding, but he returned to the house empty handed. ‘There’s no sign of them, Gwyn. Where the hell did they get to?’

  Trevor was trying the phone line again, tapping the hook with a muddy finger, listening for a dial tone, but the line was still dead. ‘I’ll have to go back to the village, to call the doctor.’ He checked with the two Druids, they looked at each other once and then nodded in his direction.

  ‘We must return and tell our brethren that Dafydd Morgan is found, but two are lost! You have two women missing, yes?’ the elder one asked Gwyn, as he stepped from the living room.

  ‘Yes, we can’t find them.’

  ‘Did they go in search of your father?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘These are strange circumstances indeed. We must go. May we use your mirror?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘We can do nothing for your father, unless you wish us to send a Druid physician? We are sure the brethren will help you as they can.’ Gwyn shook his head and so the two Druids retrieved their two Helgi from outside and silently slipped into the front room.

  ‘Trevor has gone for the doctor.’ Dai gently closed the back door and led Gwyn into the living room, kindly sitting him down in a chair near the fire. Dafydd’s breathing was soft but steady as he lay on the sofa covered in thick, warm blankets. ‘Help is on its way, Gwyn,’ Bryn Wisgi said, as he hovered around the fireplace chewing his nails.

  ‘This is all wrong!’ Gwyn put his head in his hands. ‘It’s all wrong! Everything was fine when I left for the fields this morning, everyone was here and happy, it’s all gone wrong!’ He hunched his shoulders, screwed his eyes shut and forced his tears to stay behind his eyelids.

  ‘Calm down, Gwyn. The doctor is on his way and the two women are probably stumbling around a field up to their knees in mud. They’ll be back soon.’

  The lights dimmed momentarily and Dai stood up, motioning for Gwyn to stay where he was. Bryn Wisgi stayed with him watching over Dafydd. Dai walked into the hallway, opened the door to the front room and shut himself inside.

  ‘Well this is a shock and no mistake,’ Bryn said, eying the drinks cabinet.

  ‘Help yourself.’ Gwyn waved a hand towards the mahogany glass cabinet where Dafydd stored the assortment of spirits that had been bought or received over the years but never finished.r />
  Bryn Wisgi-by-name-Whiskey-by-nature poured himself a sturdy glass of amber coloured cognac, savouring the rich oaky aroma. He sipped slowly, rolling it around his mouth before swallowing, enjoying the heat as it warmed him from within.

  The sound of a car pulling up outside caught Bryn’s attention and, carrying his glass in one hand he went to see who the visitor was, returning with Dr Selwyn Evans, affectionately known as Sawbone-Selwyn to the locals.

  He heard low whispering and then the doctor entered behind Bryn Wisgi who had the sense to leave the room again when the doctor knelt beside Dafydd.

  He dipped his head to Gwyn and got straight down to business. Dafydd had been stripped of his wet clothes and lay naked under the blankets. Dr Evans made quick work of checking for lumps and bumps all over Dafydd’s body. He lifted each of Dafydd’s eyelids, flashing a tiny torch back and forth. He listened to his heart through his stethoscope, took his blood pressure and then began repacking his black leather bag with care.

  ‘Is he alright, doc?’ Gwyn asked tentatively.

  ‘No, Gwyn, I’m afraid he is not,’ Dr Evans answered with a sigh. ‘It looks like a stroke to me, but we won’t know for certain until we can get him to the hospital … I’ll go back to the village and make the call from there. I’ll send an ambulance.’

  Gwyn felt numb. He shook the doctor’s hand and saw him to the door, noticing the rain had slackened and the wind had finally receded to a light breeze. Anwen, Nerys, where are you? Gwyn felt very alone and very afraid. His father lay unconscious in the living room, Anwen and Nerys were nowhere to be found. What happened Anwen, what’s going on Nerys? You promised to stay inside. What shall I do?

  Gwyn stepped out into the yard and let the drizzle cover him, he felt the hairs on his arms rise as his body cooled and his head momentarily cleared. This has something to do with the Bwy Hir, he thought suddenly, and Dad says you can’t trust a Druid, so they’ll be in it too. Are they going to do me in too? Is Anwen already dead? Is Nerys? I need to act stupid, act dumb, I don’t know anything, perhaps then they’ll leave us be. Please God, let Dad get better, let Nerys and Anwen turn up so I can shout at them for buggering off … I don’t want to be on my own.