The Silver Hand

by Stephen R. Lawhead

“Well? Tell me what you see.”

  I felt his hand touch the side of my head. He turned my face to one side and then the other. “I will not lie to you, brother,” he said solemnly. “It is not good. Yet it is not as bad as it might be. The color is better, I think.” I felt his fingers gently probing. “Your eyes were cut deeply. Can you see anything?”

  “No. And I think my sight will not come back.”

  “I am sorry, Tegid.” His tone allowed no hope.

  “How is your arm?”

  “It is healing too. The skin is still slightly inflamed, and it is very red. But the flesh is beginning to close over the stump. There is still some fluid seeping from the wound. The fluid is watery though, not yellow. I should wrap it again later, but it will not hurt to wash it now. The cold water feels good.”

  “If we had a cauldron, I would make a poultice for you, to draw some of the inflammation from the flesh . . .” Even as I spoke the words, my inner vision flickered to life, and I saw in my mind’s eye a man standing on the shore of the lake with a basin in his hands. He raised the basin over his head and, as the sun broke above the ridge, he threw the basin into the lake. I saw the splash and the shimmer as the vessel sank.

  “What is it, Tegid? What do you see?”

  “There is a basin—a bowl of bronze—here.” I turned to the lake spreading before me. “It was the gift of a lord to the memory of a newborn son who died.”

  “Here?”

  “In the lake.” I pointed to the place I saw in my mind. “Just there.”

  “Wait here,” Llew said. “I will find it if I can.”

  He accepted my vision without question. At once he began diving in the lake, searching among the rounded stones of the lake bed for the basin I described. He dived and dived again, but found nothing.

  “Stay!” I called to him. “Listen to me; I will direct you.”

  I made my way up from the water to the shore. As before, the image in my mind shifted as I moved. To my right I saw a large rock, partly on the strand and partly in the water—when I had seen the man, he had been standing on this rock with the basin in his hands. I picked my way over the rounded stones to the rock and climbed up on it. I turned once more to the water. I stretched my hands forth. “Where are you, Llew?”

  “Here,” he answered. “I am just a little to your left.”

  I located him by the sound of his voice and visualized him in place against the image in my mind—and he appeared in my mind’s eye in that place. “Raise your hand, Llew.”

  He raised his hand above his head, and the image of my inner vision responded likewise: they were one and the same.

  “The bowl is behind you and to the right,” I told him.

  “How far?”

  I estimated the distance between him and the place where I had seen the splash. “Two paces to your right,” I answered, “and seven or eight paces behind.”

  He turned away from me and my inner vision faded to black. There came a rippling sound as Llew waded to the place I had indicated— and then a splash as he dived. He dived once, and then again. He dived once more. I stood listening, waiting for him to surface. I did not hear anything for a few moments . . . and then . . .

  A surging splash and a shout sounding at once. “I have it!” Llew cried. “It is here, Tegid! I have found the bowl.”

  He charged up out of the water. I held out my arms and felt the chill, wet weight as Llew delivered the basin into my hands. The bowl was broad and shallow; the bronze was thick, and the surface uneven where it had been hammered. Three deep lines had been incised around the rim.

  “It is larger than I expected,” Llew said; I could almost hear the grin on his face. “It was upside down. Under water it looked like a stone. But it was where you said it would be.” He paused, turning away briefly. “I wonder,” he added, “what else is out there in the lake?”

  I made to answer, but before I could speak I heard the whinny of a horse. “Listen!”

  The whinny sounded again, clear in the quiet of the glen.

  “It came from across the lake,” said Llew.

  “Do you see anything?”

  Llew said nothing. I could feel him tense beside me. I heard the breeze light on the water, the wind blowing down from the ridgetop toward us across the lake.

  “I see him,” Llew whispered. “A warrior. He carries a shield and spear. He has come down to the lake to water his horse. He has not seen us—yet.”

  “Is he alone?”

  “I do not see anyone with him.”

  “Keep watching.”

  We waited.

  “No—there is no one else. He is alone.”

  “What is he doing?”

  “He is kneeling . . . he is drinking now . . .” Llew paused. “He is rising. He is looking this way . . .”

  Llew gripped my arm with his good hand. “He has seen us!” he hissed sharply. “He is remounting his horse—”

  “Is he coming this way?”

  Llew hesitated. “No,” he answered, relaxing his grip on my arm. “He is riding back the way he came. He is leaving—” And a moment later, “He is gone.”

  “Then come,” I said, handing the bronze bowl to Llew and stepping down from the rock. “I think we must prepare for visitors.”

  “Do you think he will return?”

  “Yes,” I called over my shoulder as I hobbled over the stones. “I think we must assume that he will return, and next time he will not come alone.”

  We waited through the night and the next day. And though Llew climbed to the ridgetop and watched the glen most of the day, no one came. I began to think I would be proven wrong, that the rider would not return.

  “I walked all along the ridge,” he told me when he returned to camp. “I did not see or hear anything.” With a weary sigh he planted his spear and dropped onto the ground. “I am hungry, Tegid,” he said from across the cold fire ring. “Let us have a fire and cook some more of the deer.”

  I hesitated. I had not allowed the fire the night before, for fear of drawing the notice of the intruders.

  “What do you say?” Llew coaxed. “No one is coming. If anyone were in the woods, I would have heard them today. There is no one about.”

  My caution appeared pointless and a little foolish. “Very well,” I relented, “gather the wood. We will build a fire.”

  Llew piled the firewood high, and I kindled the flame. In no time, all that remained of the deer—the three portions we had not eaten— was turning on the spits at the fire’s edge, and the air was tinged with the aroma of roasting venison. The fat sizzled as it bubbled and ran.

  Llew, whose hunger could not wait, pulled hot strips of meat from the spit with his fingers and blew on them before tossing them into his mouth. “Mmm,” he murmured happily, “this is more like it, Tegid. I have waited all day for this.”

  While the meat cooked, I brought the bronze basin to the fire. In Llew’s absence, I had prepared the poultice. The forest abounded in herbs of many types and, despite my blindness, I had assembled all I needed in a short time. The hardest part was fetching water in the basin and returning to camp without spilling it on the way.

  I mixed the herbs with the water and set the mixture aside to mingle its essence. Now that we had a fire, I brought the bowl to the fire’s edge to heat it properly. While I waited for it to boil, I prepared a hazel twig to stir the mixture. Llew continued to worry bits of cooked meat from the spit and lick his fingers, and I stirred the basin, smelling the fragrance of crushed herbs.

  “What is in that?” Llew asked idly. “If it is an—”

  “Shh!” I hissed.

  I strained my ears to the wood sounds around us. I heard the tree creeper and the thrush. I heard the tiny rustlings in the dry leaves under the bushes . . . and I heard the light jingle of a horse’s tack.

  “They are still some way off,” I told him. “Leave the fire. We will hide in the forest until we can determine what they want.”

  Llew stood,
plucking his spear from the ground beside him. But before he could take a step toward me, a voice behind me said, “Hold, friend!”

  I whirled to the sound.

  “Do not be foolish,” the voice said.

  Another voice added, “Put up your spear, friend.” He spoke to Llew in a voice tight with menace.

  And a third said, “Is this a proper welcome for warriors of our rank?”

  The first spoke again: “Stand easy.”

  I heard movement behind and on either side of me. They had left their horses some way away and had come upon us by foot. There was no escape. We were surrounded.

  15

  DEADLY ALLIANCES

  Who are you?” demanded Llew. “Why do you attack us?”

  I heard the wary edge to his voice. He had not relaxed. I strained within myself to awaken my inner sight, but my mind’s eye remained dark.

  “Put down your spear,” the first warrior told him bluntly.

  “Not until I know why you have invaded our camp,” Llew insisted.

  “It is not our custom to answer questions at spear point,” the intruder behind me said.

  “And is it your custom to enter a peaceful camp by stealth and force?” Llew replied, his tone flat and low.

  “Is this your forest,” inquired one of the warriors smoothly, “that you have the right to demand answers of all who sojourn within?”

  I heard a brushing step as one of the men shifted nearer. I spread my hands to show I had no weapon. “Peace,” I said, “you have nothing to fear from us.” I spoke boldly, but without intimidation. “Join us at our hearth.”

  There was silence. I could feel their eyes on me. “Who are you?” one of the strangers asked.

  “I will tell you who I am when you have told me why you spurn our offer of peace and the companionship of our hearth.” When no one replied to this, I added, “Perhaps you think it beneath you to sit with us and share our food?”

  The first warrior answered. “We mean no one any harm,” he said sullenly. “Rhoedd saw men at the lake. We were sent by our battle chief to discover who has come here. Our lord is troubled by news of invaders.”

  “Who is your lord?” I asked.

  “Cynfarch of Dun Cruach,” the warrior answered.

  “You are far north, man,” Llew said. “Where is your battle chief ?”

  “He waits for us in the glen by the river,” the warrior answered.

  “Bring him,” Llew said. “We will welcome him here.”

  The warrior made to protest. “Bring him here,” I directed. “Tell him that Llew and Tegid await him.”

  “But we are no—”

  “Go!” I commanded, my voice loud in the silence of the clearing. “Return with your battle chief, or do not return at all!”

  Without another word, the three turned and disappeared the same way they had come. We listened to them hastening through the brush and, when they had gone, Llew exhaled with relief.

  “They were that close to attacking us,” he said.

  “They were afraid.”

  “Do you think Cynan is with them?”

  “That we will soon discover.” I stooped to the basin at the fire. The vessel was hot and the herb brew simmered. “The poultice is ready. Let us see to your wound.”

  I pulled the basin away from the flames. “Unbind your wrist and bathe the wound in the water.”

  “It is boiling,” Llew pointed out.

  “It must be hot to do you good. The heat of the poultice will draw the poison from the wound.”

  Llew complied reluctantly, complaining all the while. When the brew grew too cold to be effective, I heated it again, placing the bowl at the fire. Llew complained about that too. Indeed, he was still protesting when our visitors returned.

  This time they rode directly into our camp—seven men on horseback, with weapons drawn and shields ready. “Who are you to command warriors not your own?” a stern voice demanded from among the trees. “Stand on your feet, friends, and let me see you.”

  “Cynan!” Llew leapt from his place at the fire, overturning the bowl. I heard the hiss of steam as the poultice spilled into the embers.

  “So! It is true!” called Cynan. I heard the creak of leather as he swung down from the saddle. “They said Tegid and Llew were camped on the other side of the ridge, but I did not believe it. I came to see for myself, and here you stand.”

  For a moment all was confusion. I heard the sound of horses snorting and shuffling, of men talking excitedly at once. I heard loud laughter and then Cynan was standing before us. “Welcome, brother!” cried Llew. “Our hearth is humble and our hall has no roof, but all we have is yours. It is good see you, Cynan.”

  “And it is glad I am to—” Cynan must have reached out to grip Llew’s arms, and discovered Llew’s injury. “Clanna na cù!” he gasped. “What happened to you, man?”

  Cynan turned to me. “Tegid, you—?” I could feel his anger flare like a firebrand. “Who has done this? You have but to speak his name and I will avenge you tenfold! A hundredfold!”

  Llew answered. “Meldron,” was all he said.

  “I will kill him,” Cynan vowed.

  “Meldron owes a blood debt past reckoning,” I said, “but not for our wounds. Truly, this is the least part of what he has done.” I then told Cynan and the others about the massacre of the bards on the holy mound.

  Cynan and his men listened in stunned silence. When I finished, it was as if they had melted into the night. I heard nothing but the fluttering crack of the fire and the soft, shifting hiss of the night air among the pine needles.

  When he finally spoke again, Cynan’s voice was a tight knot of anger and despair. “It is even worse than you know,” he said. “Meldron has provoked war with the lords of Llogres. He has attacked the principal strongholds of the Cruin and Dorathi. Many have been killed, and more have fled to the hills and forests.”

  “When did this happen?” I asked.

  “We learned of it just before Beltain. Some came to us seeking refuge, and they warned us that Meldron has sent warriors into Caledon to search out the weaknesses in the land.”

  “Ah,” Llew replied, “that is why you are ranging this far north.”

  “It is,” Cynan confirmed unhappily. “We have been riding the glens and rivers to see if they mean to strike at us from the wilderness where we are not protected.”

  “Have you seen anyone?” I asked.

  “No one—until Rhoedd saw you two days ago,” Cynan answered.

  “But why did it take you two days to return here?” Llew asked.

  “We were camped a day’s ride from here,” Cynan explained. “I commanded my men to return at once if they found any sign of strangers in the land.”

  “If he had but spoken to us, we would have welcomed him,” Llew told him. “Someone might have been hurt.”

  “As to that, I am sorry,” Cynan replied ruefully. “But if you were spies for Meldron, I knew that you would not hesitate to murder my men-—even under a sign of welcome. We did not know it was you.”

  “Well, I am glad you are here. Sit with us,” Llew said, “share our food. We have but a little meat and water, but you are welcome to it.”

  “We have provisions with us and, as we have come unbidden to your camp, you must allow us to contribute our portion,” Cynan offered happily.

  “I will not say no,” Llew replied, and Cynan ordered two of his men to begin preparing a meal.

  We sat down together then and, while the others fetched water and wood and went about expanding our camp, Cynan and Rhoedd sat with us and began telling us all that had passed in Albion since our meeting on Ynys Sci. I listened to Cynan’s description of the tribes and clans that Meldron had overrun or defeated, and I could not help shaking my head in wonder.

  “Cynan,” I said, “how has Meldron accomplished this so quickly? When we left Sycharth he had but a hundred men altogether. How is it that he defeats clans with larger and better-armed war bands?�
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  “That is easily told,” Cynan said harshly. “He has made alliance with the Rhewtani.”

  The Rhewtani are a contentious clan who rule in northern Llogres. They had long troubled both Prydain and Caledon—until Meldryn Mawr put an end to their warring with a series of stinging defeats. Odd that now they should have joined with Meldron, helping their old enemy’s son to further himself. I wondered what Meldron had promised them to secure their aid.

  “The Rhewtani,” I repeated. “Anyone else?”

  “I have not heard of any others,” Cynan answered, “but it is said that some of the conquered chiefs have come over to him rather than face defeat and death. Although,” he added fiercely, “any chieftain who would do that is not worthy of the name.”

  We talked of all that had happened in Albion and waited for the food to be served. Our visitors supplied a more than ample share from their provisions, and our meal became a feast of friends. “I am not lying when I say that you are the last men I thought to find here,” Cynan said, slapping his thigh.

  “After Meldron attacked the sacred mound,” Llew told him, “ we were taken prisoner. We were cast adrift on the tide and left to die.” He told about the storm at sea and related how we had walked inland and arrived at this place—failing, I noticed, to mention the nemeton or the cylenchar in his account.

  Cynan and his men listened to the tale with interest. When Llew finished, he said, “Still, it is strange. We had decided to return home when Rhoedd thought he saw someone hiding among the trees.” Cynan addressed Rhoedd. “Tell them what you saw.”

  “I saw someone watching us across the river,” Rhoedd began. “I told Lord Cynan and asked leave to follow. I raised the trail and pursued it until I reached the waterfall. But since I had no other sign, I decided to abandon the search. I was about to turn back when I saw someone on the rocks above the falls.”

  “Did you see who it was?” I asked.

  “No, lord,” Rhoedd replied. “But he wore a green cloak. I saw that.”

  “So you continued following?”

  “I did that. Not easy to find a way around the falls—and I would still be searching if I had not seen a hind running into a cleft in the rocks. I followed and found a path; it led here, to this ridge. From the ridge I saw the lake and went down to water my horse. It was in my mind to return the way I had come. If I had not seen you across the water, we would have returned to Dun Cruach. The rest you know.”