“You certainly bear a resemblance to descriptions of the former Cludydd,” Tudfwlch said apparently unexcited, “Why shouldn’t the stone be handed from mother to daughter?”
“But she never mentioned it to me.”
“Did you tell your mother of your first visit to us?”
“No, but...”
“There you are then; she had no reason to tell you.”
“But surely if what your story says happened to her, those great battles and things, she would have fantastic stories to tell.”
“Perhaps that was it. From what you have said your world is very different to ours. Maybe your mother thought it best to keep her tales to herself.”
September shrugged. She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t take in the possibility that her own mother, Mum, had once wielded the powerful stone that hung now from her neck.
“What happened at the end? She, this Cludydd Breuddwyd, won?”
“That’s right.”
“How?”
Tudfwlch took a deep breath and launched again into the story.
“Heulyn determined that the focus of the Malevolence was in the southern desert, far to the south of here.”
“But they were up north in the forests.”
“Yes, they embarked on a great trek, the Cludydd, the Mordeyrn and the other Prif-cludyddau. Along the way they gathered a huge army of village people who left their homes and their families to fight for good and to protect the Cludydd. After many months and many battles with the servants of the Malevolence they reached the edge of the Plains. The desert stretched in front of them. There would be no water or food for the army. The Cludydd decided to go on alone. Heulyn wanted to go on with her to defend her but she insisted he stay behind and look after the people. She left them, heading for the place and the time that Heulyn had predicted that the Malevolence would reach its greatest power. Heulyn and the army waited. Days passed and then on the night that Heulyn had foretold there was a huge eruption in the distance. The sky lit up with blue fire and after a time a great roar of noise blasted them to the ground and deafened them all. A vast cloud of dust rolled over the land burying each and every one of them and making them choke. Then there was silence. The sky went dark again and the stars reappeared. The army picked itself up and dusted themselves off. There was a feeling of release, of joy, of a weight lifted from them. Heulyn knew that the Cludydd had succeeded. The Malevolence was banished. They waited for the Cludydd to return. Days passed with no further attacks by the manifestations of evil and the villagers began to drift away, beginning the long journey home. Eventually just the Mordeyrn Heulyn remained. He walked out into the desert and arrived at a great area where the sand was turned to crystal but he found no sign of the Cludydd or the Maengolauseren. He returned to his home and set about his plans for the Arsyllfa and making preparations for the next visitation of the Malevolence. He knew that while Breuddwyd had been successful, evil will always rise again.” Tudfwlch fell silent, Cynddylig sniffed, and September sat still trying to take in the story.
“She didn’t die,” she said at last, “she went home.”
“That is what Heulyn presumed. Everyone was disappointed and hoped that she would return and enjoy the appreciation of the people. But Heulyn said that the Cludydd o Maengolauseren will only appear in the Land when the Malevolence grows strong. Only now has that time come again. You are with us September.”
“Hmm, if those stories have been passed on correctly,” Cynddylig growled.
September turned to face him.
“You don’t believe the stories are true?”
“Oh, there’s truth in them as in all old stories. I’m just not certain they are a guide to our future. They are tales told to frighten children or to teach them how to behave.”
“Don’t you believe in the evil?”
“Oh, there’s evil, in the world.”
“And what about the monsters, the Draig tân, the Adarllwchgwin, the Ceffyl dwr, Gwyllian? You’ve got to believe in those.”
“Aye, girl, I believe there are monsters in the world too.”
“So what don’t you believe then?”
“I can’t believe that those tales of the past have any meaning for us now.”
“What about the Cemegwr? You’ve mentioned them twice.”
Cynddylig was silent for a moment.
“You’re right girl. I do call upon them from time to time, but not out of belief or faith.
“What then?”
“The oldest stories of the Land tell how this world and all the others we see in the heavens were made by the Cemegwr. They made the land and the seas and the air. They provided the metals in the ground for us to use. They created all the living things, including us.”
“And...”
“That’s it; they are old stories, fables. They have never appeared to help us when the Malevolence has grown strong although some people, the misguided and the gullible, say that the Cemegwr made us to oppose the Evil.”
“What do you think?”
“I think that if they exist the Cemegwr are sitting on their backsides watching us and having a laugh at our futile attempts to plan for the next assault by the Malevolence. But no, I don’t believe that they are out there waiting to help us or that they even exist.”
“Do you believe in me?”
“Oh, you’re real and you bear a stone of power, but can you rid the world of the evil? I don’t know.”
Tudfwlch snorted.
“Oh, come on Cynddylig. Everything that the Mordeyrn predicted has happened. He said the power of the Malevolence was increasing and it has. In the last few years the attacks have become more frequent and there have been tales from elsewhere of diseases and disputes which are the work of the evil in the minds of the people. He summoned September and here she is; the bearer of the stone who has already wielded its power.”
Cynddylig shrugged.
“Let us hope then that the Mordeyrn’s plans are successful.”
“I have more than hope,” Tudfwlch asserted, “I believe in the Mordeyrn and the Cludydd.” He turned back to face the bow of the boat and fell silent. Cynddylig did not respond and returned to steering the craft silently.
September wriggled her bottom amongst the sacks making herself more comfortable. She closed her eyes to shut out the world and to be with her thoughts. Could she believe that Mother had once been in her position, had travelled across Gwlad and wielded the Maengolauseren in a fierce battle with the Malevolence? It seemed too fantastic to be true and yet here she was sailing along a wide river in a boat powered by a speck of gold and some kind of magic. Perhaps when Mother returned to her life at home she had thought that her experiences were too farfetched to pass on and had no idea that her own daughter could become part of the same saga. If only she could talk to Mother and learn more about the powers of the starstone. September realised that any conversation would probably have to wait until the completion of her task, if she was successful. She wasn’t her Mother, didn’t have the skills or common sense that she had; nevertheless if Mother succeeded, surely she could too. There was something else though, an added complication; her dead twin. Perhaps if her twin had been alive she might have been born after September and then she would be the seventh not September. It was all too uncertain.
September became aware of a change in the boat’s motion. She opened her eyes and realised that she must have been asleep. The sun was low in the sky and the boat was moving across the current. They were headed towards a break in the high bank, a shelving beach and a clearing in the trees. September sat up straight to get a clearer sight of where they were going.
“Ah, you’ve woken up. Just in time girl,” Cynddylig said. September turned to him.
“Are we stopping?”
“Yes, it’s time to make camp for the night. The light will be gone soon and it’s not a good idea to be on the river at night even when the Malevolence is not in its ascendency.”
The bow of the boat g
round against the shingle. Tudfwlch leaped overboard with the rope in his hand. He splashed into the water but a few steps took him to the sandy beach. He hauled on the rope pulling the small craft ashore. September crawled over the sacks and barrels to the bow and jumped on to dry land. She joined Tudfwlch in tugging the boat further out of the water.
“That’ll do,” Cynddylig called, “Find somewhere to tie her to.” Tudfwlch took the rope and began tying it around the nearest tree trunk. “Here, girl, catch.” Cynddylig called again as he threw a sack in September’s direction. She caught it in her arms and was surprised to find how light it was.
“What’s this?” she said.
“Your bed,” Cynddylig replied, “put it down and catch this one.” September hurried to drop the sack on the dry ground well away from the water and arrived back to receive another similar package tossed from the boat. Tudfwlch joined her and together they gathered the sacks and barrels that Cynddylig threw to them.
“That’s enough for tonight,” Cynddylig said, looking at the half empty hull. He jumped from the bow and strode up the beach. “Now let’s get this camp sorted and some food on the fire.”
By the time the sun had sunk below the trees, the three travellers had made camp in the shelter of the forest edge. Tudfwlch had lit a fire of twigs and branches that he had collected and Cynddylig had set up a small cauldron over it. September could already smell tempting odours wafting from the vegetables and herbs that he had tossed into it. She had been pleased to discover that the ‘beds’ were sleeping bags packed thickly with wool. Tudfwlch had told her that she would appreciate the warmth because after the heat of the day the nights could be cold. Now she sat on her own sleeping bag with her silver robe wrapped around her watching Cynddylig at work. Tudfwlch handed her a wooden cup filled with water. She drank gratefully. Tudfwlch sat next to her and looked around.
“Should be safe; a quiet spot,” he said.
“Have you camped here before?” September asked.
“No, but he has,” Tudfwlch indicated Cynddylig, “he knows all the stopping points along the river, but this is my first time away from Amaethaderyn.”
“Are you looking forward to the trip?”
“Oh, yes. I know it will be hard and we may meet difficulties, but I’ve wanted an excuse to travel.”
“Your people don’t travel much then?”
“No, the village is all that most of us know. There’s just a few like Cynddylig who take away some goods and bring back other things. The cludyddau usually travel a bit, learning their skills from others and passing on their own knowledge. Perhaps I would have set off myself sometime soon to learn more of the craft of Haearn,” he hesitated, “of course, Iorwerth’s a great cludydd and a good teacher.”
“But you’d like to get away and see more of the world,” September said, “I know how you feel, I’d like to do something exciting when I’m older, perhaps even go to university.” She would love to study something but she didn’t know what and on her past record the chances of getting good qualifications seemed slim. She presumed she would be stuck at home looking for a boring job. She realised that Tudfwlch didn’t understand what she had said, “You’d like to go away from home, a place like the Arsyllfa I suppose.”
“Ah, yes. The trouble is that the Malevolence has changed things. People are more wary of travelling and meeting strangers. We’re not so sure that we trust people as much as we used to. You hear stories...”
“What sort of stories?”
“Oh, groups of people, possessed by evil, attacking villages and running off with their food and wares.”
“Can’t people defend themselves? What about the bearers of the metals? They have powers.”
“That is true but not all villages have cludyddau as skilled as those at Amaethaderyn and don’t forget that in two of the attacks it was your power that defeated the manifestations of the Malevolence.”
“Hmm, it comes back to the starstone, doesn’t it.”
“Yes, its power is so great that I feel we have no need to fear evil. Would you let me look at it?”
September reached inside her cloak and felt the weight of the stone in its silver clasp in her hand. She pulled it out for Tudfwlch to see.
“Put that thing away!”
Cynddylig’s roar startled September. She released the starstone and it slid back inside her cloak.
“If that cloak of yours is to do its job you must keep the stone hidden inside it.”
September saw anger and frustration pass quickly over Tudfwlch’s face to be replaced by a look of contrition. She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been to uncover the stone after all that happened last night.
“Of course. I was foolish to ask,” Tudfwlch said, “we must do nothing to attract the attention of the Adwyth.”
“That’s right, lad,” Cynddylig said more gently, “use the sense that Iorwerth’s tried to drum into you.”
September regained her composure and pressed her hand against her breast feeling the hidden pendant.
“There was no need to shout,” she said.
“I’m sorry, girl, but even a moment of exposure may be enough to awaken a manifestation of the evil.”
“Cynddylig’s right,” Tudfwlch said. “Who knows what monsters may be lurking nearby awaiting a sign.”
September stood up, “I need a wash, or a bath. It was hot and sticky sitting in a boat all day.” She felt a need to get away from Cynddylig for a while.
“You’re right,” Tudfwlch said, “Let’s get into the river.” He started undoing his belt and pulling his tunic over his head. September wasn’t sure whether to follow him and strip off her clothes.
“If you’re going in the water, Cludydd, don’t forget to keep your cloak around you,” Cynddylig said, “and don’t be long. The food will be ready soon.”
Tudfwlch was tugging his trousers off his legs and standing naked in the twilight.
“Come on,” he said, running to the waters” edge. September watched his slim, muscular body with interest and made a decision. With the body she had here in the Land she needn’t feel ashamed and anyway she would still be covered by the silver cloak. She removed her belt with the dagger and pouch, contorted herself to take off her top and wriggled the trousers down. Then gripping the cloak around her she ran to join Tudfwlch. He was already splashing in the water a couple of metres beyond where the boat was moored. His white skin caught the pale moonlight and the ripples of water around him sparkled. September stepped tentatively into the water.
“It’s not cold,” Tudfwlch called. He was right; it was nothing like as cold as she suspected a river in Britain would be at any time of year. The water still retained the warmth of the sun that it had collected on its long, meandering journey from the mountains. Holding the cloak around her September moved further into the river until the water was up to her waist. Then she sank down immersing her body in the water. The water’s touch reminded her of the differences between the body she had now and what she was familiar with at home. She felt fitter, as if her body had no excess fat and was used to much more exercise than she had at home. The body felt more mature, more looked after. She felt the same as Tudfwlch looked – a young person at the peak of their youthful health.
“How does that feel?” Tudfwlch said, swimming to her side.
“Wonderful,” she replied. “It’s great to wash all the sweat off.”
“Come and eat, supper is ready,” Cynddylig called. They waded out of the water and saw Cynddylig spooning the broth into wooden bowls. Tudfwlch pulled a couple of cloths out of a sack and they quickly mopped the water from themselves. It took further contortions to get back into her clothes but soon she was sitting with Tudfwlch and Cynddylig around the fire with a warm bowl on her lap.
Before long, September’s hunger was satisfied, hunger that she hadn’t been aware of until she took her first mouthful of Cynddylig’s soup. The flavours of various vegetables and cheese were so enticing that she drained
two bowlfuls, as did Tudfwlch and Cynddylig himself. She helped wash up and then the three of them sat in their sleeping bags around the fire. Cynddylig began to sing in a soft lilting voice. September couldn’t follow the words but presumed they were of the old language that the people seemed to use for formal and cultural purposes. Tudfwlch joined in and September was enjoying just listening to the tunes.
The sound of a faint and distant horn clashed with the singing. September looked into the darkness all around but could not pick out the direction the sound was coming from. Neither of the men seemed to notice the sound and September became convinced that the notes of the horn were coming from very close to her. She looked at herself and her eyes fell on the leather pouch at her waist. Then she remembered. She opened it and pulled out the small copper horn that Catrin had given her. It was indeed the little horn that was producing the faint tones. She lifted it to her ear to listen more carefully and as she did so the music stopped.
“Cludydd. Do you hear me?” The voice was tinny and distant but she recognised the gentle, deep voice of the Mordeyrn Aurddolen.
“Mordeyrn, is that you?”
“Ah, you do have the speaking tube. Good evening Cludydd.”
“Good evening.”
“I am delighted to be able to speak to you and so sorry that I was not able to be present at your coming or to defend you during your first day in the Land.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Arianwen, Berddig and the others were very helpful.” September felt strange having this conversation with the distant Mordeyrn. The copper horn was not a lot like her mobile phone.
Seventh Child Page 13