The Sword of Wayland

by Gavin Chappell

  * * * * *

  ‘Why did you betray us?’

  Hywel confronted Edwin at the centre of a clearing beside the road, where it crossed a river on an ancient bridge. Surrounding them were the king’s warriors, mounted, staring grimly down at him.

  ‘I didn’t betray you,’ Edwin said. ‘You must believe me.’

  Hywel was calm again. ‘Why should we believe a Saxon?’ he asked.

  ‘Listen to my story, at least!’ Edwin exclaimed.

  ‘Very well,’ Hywel replied. ‘We could do with a good joke.’

  As the warriors echoed the king’s cruel laugh, Edwin looked down ruefully at his tattered, muddied, jester’s motley. It had been Hywel’s idea that he should disguise himself like this, after he had seen a few of the thief’s tricks.

  ‘Why didn’t you come when I called you?’ he demanded. ‘Caradawg was there, as were my companions, when I blew the horn.’

  Hywel spread his arms.

  ‘We came the moment we heard the horn,’ he replied. ‘It took a minute or two to get ready and to get down the hill...’

  ‘Those minutes cost you the battle,’ Edwin replied firmly.

  ‘Why, where did Caradawg go, anyway?’ asked another warrior. ‘Did he magic himself out of his stronghold?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Edwin replied, raising his voice over the ensuing laughter. ‘He escaped with the aid of a wizard.’

  He hurriedly explained himself. As he finished, Hywel regarded him sombrely.

  ‘They escaped into a tunnel, you say?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Edwin impatiently. ‘Taking Bork and the others with him!’

  ‘It’s true that there is a tunnel under Abergarthcelyn,’ said Hywel. ‘A servant discovered it in my day. We blocked it up when people linked it with the disappearances that were common then. But I thought all that talk about the coblynau was superstition, like the Bishop said.’

  ‘Believe me, it’s true,’ replied Edwin. ‘I have seen them.’

  The warriors said uneasily, but Edwin continued undeterred. ‘I heard the wizard speak of Dinas Emrys,’ he said. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’

  ‘Dinas Emrys?’ said Llewellyn. ‘That’s twenty miles away, up in the high mountains.’

  A stray memory came to Edwin.

  ‘Near Snowdon?’ he asked excitedly. ‘Of course! That was where we were heading in the first place!’

  ‘You have yet to tell us the full story,’ remarked Hywel. ‘No matter. Llewellyn, how far did you say? Twenty miles? Could we make it tonight?’

  ‘We must!’ exclaimed Edwin. ‘Or else...’ He broke off, uncertain as to how much his audience was prepared to believe. Besides, they might applaud the idea.

  ‘We might,’ said Llewellyn. ‘But it will mean going thirty miles out of our way, one way or another. I’ll draw a map.’

  He jumped down from his horse, and started sketching on the ground. Rapidly, a map took shape.

  ‘This is the coastline, there’s Môn, there’s Eryri - Snowdon to the Saxon - there’s the Vale of Conwy. Here is Dinas Emrys, on a southern outcrop of the great mountain. If we follow the road to Caer Rhun, then down the Conwy valley and up into the mountains towards Snowdon, and down through Nant Gwynant… That’s thirty miles.’

  ‘Can’t we go up this pass here?’ Edwin asked, pursing his lips and indicating another part of the map. ‘That seems to lead to Snowdon by a more direct route.’

  Hywel shook his head.

  ‘That would mean going back the way we came,’ he replied. ‘And I don’t think Caradawg’s warriors will be willing to let us pas. No, Llewellyn’s way is the only one open to us.’

  Edwin frowned, muttering.

  ‘But that will mean we’ll be too late…’ He stared at the map, then at the surrounding landscape. The road went onward between two slopes, but the river beside them rushed down from another valley to their right. Beyond this loomed a darkly massive mountain wall. Edwin returned his attention to the map.

  ‘Is there any reason why we can’t just go due south?’ he asked.