The Castle of Llyr

by Alexander, Lloyd

  While Gurgi, yawning and rubbing his eyes, crept down the corridor, Taran took his place before the chamber. He sank to the flagstones and, with hand on sword, rested his head on his knees and fought against his own weariness. Once or twice, despite his efforts, he drowsed, then started up suddenly. The vaulted corridor slowly lightened in the rising dawn. With relief Taran saw the first rays of morning and at last allowed himself to close his eyes.

  "Taran of Caer Dallben!"

  He stumbled to his feet and clutched his blade. Eilonwy, looking fresh and well-rested, stood in the doorway.

  "Taran of Caer Dallben!" she declared. "I nearly tripped over you! Whatever in the world are you doing?"

  Befuddled, Taran could only stammer that he found the hallway more comfortable than his chamber.

  Eilonwy shook her head. "That," she remarked, "is the silliest thing I've heard this morning. I may hear something sillier, because it's early yet, but I doubt it. I'm beginning to think the ways of Assistant Pig-Keepers are quite beyond me." She shrugged. "In any case, I'm going to breakfast. After you wash your face and untangle your hair, you might have some too. It would do you good. You look as jumpy as a frog with fleas!"

  Without waiting for Taran to shake the sleep from his head, and before he could stop her, Eilonwy disappeared down the corridor. Taran hurried after her. Even in the bright morning he felt shadows cling to him like black spider webs. By now, he hoped, Gwydion had discovered Achren's plan. But Magg still went free. Taran, recalling the Chief Steward's hidden dagger, had no intention of letting Eilonwy out of his sight for an instant.

  "Hullo, hullo!" His round face glowing as if he had just scrubbed it, Prince Rhun popped out of his chamber just as Taran passed by. "Going to breakfast?" cried the Prince, clapping Taran on the shoulder. "Good! So am I."

  "Then we shall meet in the Great Hall," Taran hastily replied, striving to shake himself loose from Rhun's friendly grasp.

  "Amazing how one's appetite grows during the night," Prince Rhun went on. "Oh, by the way, did you ever manage to rouse the tailors?"

  "Tailors?" Taran answered impatiently. "What tailors? Oh--- yes, yes, they have done what I asked," he quickly added, peering down the corridor.

  "Splendid!" cried Rhun. "I wish I had the same good fortune. Do you know, that shoemaker never did finish my sandals? He'd only just begun, then off he went, and that was the end of them."

  "It may be he had a more important task to do," Taran replied. "As do I---"

  "What could be more important to a shoemaker than making shoes?" asked Rhun. "However..." He snapped his fingers. "Ah! I knew there was something. I've forgotten my cloak. Hold on, I shall only be a moment."

  "Prince Rhun," Taran cried, "I must join the Princess Eilonwy."

  "We shall be there directly," called Rhun from the chamber. "Oh, drat! There goes my sandal lace broken! I do wish that shoemaker had finished his work!"

  Leaving the Prince of Mona still rummaging in the chamber, Taran sped anxiously to the Great Hall. King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria were already at table, the Queen surrounded, as always, by her ladies. Taran looked quickly about him. Magg, usually in attendance, was not there.

  Nor was there any sign of Eilonwy.

  *¤*nihua*¤*

  Chapter 5

  The Oath

  WHERE IS EILONWY

  ?" Taran cried, as King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria stared at him in astonishment. "Where is Magg? He's made off with her! Sire, I beg you. Turn out your guard. Help me find them. Eilonwy is in danger of her life!" "What, what?" Queen Teleria clucked. "Magg? The Princess? You're overwrought, young man. Perhaps the sea air--- don't shake so and wave your arms about--- has gone to your dead. Because someone isn't here for breakfast doesn't mean they're in danger. Does it, my dear?" she asked, turning to the King.

  "I should hardly think so, my dear," answered Rhuddlum. "This is a heavy charge to bring against a loyal retainer," he added, looking gravely at Taran. "Why do you accuse him?"

  For a moment, Taran stood perplexed and torn. Gwydion had bound him to secrecy. But now that Magg had struck, must the secret still be kept? Taking his decision, he let the words tumble from his lips, hurriedly and often confusedly telling all that had happened since the companions had reached Dinas Rhydnant.

  Queen Teleria shook her head. "This shoemaker disguised as Prince Gwydion--- or was it the other way around--- and ships and torch signals to enchantresses make the wildest tale I've heard, young man."

  "Wild indeed," said King Rhuddlum. "But we shall learn the truth easily enough. Fetch the shoemaker and we shall soon see if he is the Prince of Don."

  "Prince Gwydion seeks Achren," Taran cried. "I have given you the truth. If it is not so, you shall take my life for it. Will you prove my words? Fetch your Chief Steward."

  King Rhuddlum frowned. "It is odd that Magg should not be here," he admitted. "Very well, Taran of Caer Dallben. He shall be found and you shall repeat your tale in his presence." He clapped his hands and ordered a servitor to summon the Chief Steward.

  Frantic with anxiety, knowing that time was fleeting and delay could cost Eilonwy's life, Taran was nearly beside himself when the servitor at last returned with tidings that Magg appeared to be nowhere in the castle, nor could Eilonwy be found. As King Rhuddlum hesitated, still puzzled by Taran's words, Gurgi, Kaw, and Fflewddur entered the Great Hall. Taran raced to them.

  "Magg! That villainous spider!" the bard exclaimed as soon as Taran told him what had happened. "Great Belin, she's ridden off with him! I saw them galloping through the gate. I called to her, but she didn't hear me. She seemed cheerful enough. I'd no idea anything was amiss. But they're gone, long gone by now!"

  Queen Teleria turned deathly pale. The ladies of the court gasped fearfully. King Rhuddlum sprang to his feet. "You have spoken the truth, Taran of Caer Dallben."

  Shouting for the guard, the King strode from the Great Hall. The companions hastened after him. At King Rhuddlum's hurried orders,, the stables were flung open. Within moments the courtyard filled with warriors and neighing horses. Prince Rhun, meantime, had strolled into the courtyard where he peered at the gathering host.

  "Hullo, hullo!" he called to Taran. "Is this a hunting party? Splendid thought. I should enjoy a brisk morning ride."

  "A hunt for your traitor steward," Taran retorted, thrusting Rhun aside and making his way to King Rhuddlum. "Sire, where is your war leader? Give us leave to put ourselves at his service."

  "My war leader, sorry to say, is none other than Magg himself," the King answered. "As we've never had a war on Mona, we never needed a war leader, and it seemed quite in order to give Magg the honorary title. I shall form up the searching party myself. As for you--- yes--- by all means help with any tasks that need doing."

  While King Rhuddlum saw to the ordering of the warriors, Taran and the companions labored with all speed, tightening saddle girths and handing out weapons from the armory. Prince Rhun, Taran saw, had clambered astride a swaybacked, piebald mare that persisted in turning in circles despite the efforts of the Prince to control her. Fflewddur and Gurgi had led out three horses. A glance at the animals filled Taran with despair, for they seemed unspirited, of no great mettle, and he wished for the swift-footed Melynlas now grazing peacefully at Caer Dallben.

  King Rhuddlum, taking Taran by the arm, drew him hurriedly into an empty stable. "You and I must speak together," the King said quickly. "The warriors are ready and divided into two parties. One I shall lead over the lands south of the River Alaw. You and your companions are to ride with my son, who shall command the search in the Hills of Parys north of the Alaw. It is of him I would speak."

  "Prince Rhun in command?" Taran burst out.

  "What then, Taran of Caer Dallben," King Rhuddlum asked sharply. "Do you question Prince Rhun's skill?"

  "Skill!" Taran cried. "He has none! Eilonwy's life hangs in the balance; our task must be done without delay. Give command to a feckless fool? He can barely knot a sandal lace, let
alone ride a horse or wield a sword. The voyage to Mona showed me more than enough. Choose one of your liege men, a warrior, a forester, anyone save Rhun..." He stopped short. "Dallben has my oath to protect Eilonwy, and I say what is in my heart. Were I to say less, I would fail my duty. If I am to suffer for my words, then so be it.

  "Once again. you speak the truth," King Rhuddlum answered. "It is not you who suffers for it, but I." He put a hand on Taran's shoulder. "Think you I do not know my own son? You are right in your judgment. But, I know, too, that Rhun must grow to be both a man and a king. You carry the burden of an oath to Dallben. I pray you take the burden of another one.

  "Word of your deeds has reached Mona," King Rhuddlum went on, "And I have seen for myself that you are a brave lad, and honorable. I confide this knowledge to you: my Master of Horse is a skillful tracker; he rides with your party and in truth shall direct the search. Prince Rhun commands in name only, for the warriors expect leadership from the Royal House. I would entrust my son to you, and beg you to let no harm befall him. Nor," added the King, smiling sadly, "to let him make too great a fool of himself. Much he has to learn, and much, perhaps, he may learn from you. One day he must be King of Mona, and it is my hope he will rule honorably and wisely with Eilonwy his Queen."

  "Eilonwy?" Taran cried, "with Rhun her husband?"

  "Yes," answered King Rhuddlum. "When the Princess comes of age, it is our desire they shall wed."

  "Princess Eilonwy," Taran murmured, confused. "Does she know of this?"

  "Not yet. Nor does my son," said King Rhuddlum. "Eilonwy must have time to grow used to Mona and our ways here. But I am sure it will be happily arranged. After all, she is a Princess and Rhun is of royal blood."

  Taran bowed his head. The grief in his heart kept him from speaking.

  "What say you, Taran of Caer Dallben?" King Rhuddlum asked. "Will you give me your word?"

  From the courtyard Taran could hear the clamor of warriors and the voice of Fflewddur calling his name. Yet these sounds reached his ears as though from a great distance. He remained silent, his eyes downcast.

  "In this, I do not speak as liege lord to liege man," King Rhuddlum added. "I speak as a father who loves his son." He paused, watching Taran closely.

  At last Taran met the King's eyes. "I will swear this oath," he said slowly. "Your son will come to no harm if it lies in my power to keep him from it." Taran put a hand to his sword. "I pledge my life to do so."

  "Go with my thanks, Taran of Caer Dallben," King Rhuddlum said. "And help us bring the Princess Eilonwy safely home."

  The bard and Gurgi were already mounted when Taran hurried from the stable. Heavy-hearted, he swung into the saddle. Kaw flew to join him. Prince Rhun, who had finally managed to keep his steed from turning in circles, was shouting commands, unheeded as usual.

  As the searching parties galloped out the gates, Taran lifted Kaw from his shoulder. "Can you find her? Seek her carefully, my friend," he murmured, while the crow cocked his head and looked at Taran with shrewd eyes. Taran flung his arm upward. Kaw launched himself into the air and sped aloft. Wings beating, the crow circled overhead, drove higher against the sky, then disappeared from sight.

  "Yes, yes!" shouted Gurgi, waving his arms. "Go with flyings and spyings! Lead us to evil, wicked steward!"

  "The sooner the better!" cried Fflewddur. "I can't wait to get my hands on that sneering spider. He shall know the fury of a Fflam!"

  Glancing behind him, Taran saw King Rhuddlum's band stream from the castle and turn southward. Ahead, the Master of Horse led his party of warriors toward the higher ground above Dinas Rhydnant and signaled for the outriders to search for tracks. Taran's face was set and grim as he rode silently next to Fflewddur.

  "Have no fear," the bard assured him, "we shall bring Eilonwy back with us safe and sound before nightfall, and all of us shall make merry over this adventure. I promise you a new song in celebration!"

  "You would do well to make it a chant of betrothal," Taran said bitterly, "and sing of the wedding of the Prince of Mona."

  "Rhun?" cried the startled Fflewddur. "To be wed? I had no idea! That's one disadvantage of being lodged in the stables instead of the castle, you miss the news and gossip. Prince Rhun, indeed! Who is to be his bride?"

  Painfully, Taran told the bard of King Rhuddlum's plans and of his own oath to keep Rhun from harm.

  "Oho," said Fflewddur, when Taran had finished, "so that's the way the wind blows! Strange," he added, with a quick glance at Taran, "I had always hoped that if Eilonwy were betrothed to anyone it would be--- yes, well, what I mean to say is that despite all the squabbling and bickering between the two of you, I had rather expected..."

  "Do not mock me," Taran burst out, reddening. "Eilonwy is a Princess of the House of Llyr. You know my station as well as I. Such a hope has never been in my mind. It is only fitting for Eilonwy to be betrothed to one of her own rank." Angrily he drew away from the bard and galloped ahead.

  "So you say, so you say," murmured Fflewddur, hurrying after him. "Look closer into your heart. You may find your opinion to be somewhat different."

  Taran, unhearing, pressed his steed to join the line of warriors.

  TURNING NORTHWARD

  along the lower slopes of the Hills of Parys, the searching party broke into smaller bands, each quartering its own ground. The warriors, widely separated, moved in long, wavering lines, often out of each other's sight, painstakingly scouting every possible hiding place. Yet, as the morning wore away and noontide passed, they found no trace of the Chief Steward or Eilonwy. Among the green and gentle slopes ran broken, pebbly trails, where the fleeing Magg might have passed and where clues would be invisible to the eyes of even the most able tracker. Taran's heart sank; in his mind chafed the fear that he was following a false hope and that Eilonwy had been taken in an altogether different direction. From time to time he anxiously scanned the sky for a glimpse of Kaw returning with news of the Princess.

  Gwydion, Taran knew, was the only one who might discover Achren's plan. Magg was the key, but the Chief Steward had acted so swiftly that perhaps even now he was beyond the reach of the searching party. Taran redoubled his efforts to find a broken twig, a loose stone--- anything that might bring them closer to Eilonwy before nightfall put an end to the day's searching.

  Gurgi, riding close at hand, called out to him. "Look, look! Noble prince goes far alone, too far into the woods! He will lose himself. Then cheerful hullos will turn to sad moanings and groanings!"

  Taran, who had dismounted to study what seemed a possible trail, raised his eyes in time to see Prince Rhun galloping over the shoulder of a hill. He shouted at him, but Rhun was too distant to hear, or, more likely, Taran thought, was simply paying no heed. He leaped astride his horse and sought to overtake the Prince. Until now he had managed to keep Prince Rhun always in view, but by the time Taran reached the hill, Rhun had vanished into the shadows of an alder grove. Below, on the rapidly darkening meadow, Fflewddur had cantered into sight and was calling him. Taran shouted Rhun's name once again, then beckoned for the bard and Gurgi to join him.

  "That sickening spider has escaped us today," Fflewddur cried angrily, while his nag labored to the crest. "But we shall fetch him out tomorrow and Eilonwy will be safe and sound. If I know the Princess, Magg has already begun to regret stealing her away. She's worth a dozen warriors even if she's tied hand and food" Despite the bard's brave words, his face looked deeply worried. "Come," said Fflewddur, "the Master of Horse is calling in the warriors. We're to make camp with them for the night."

  Even as the bard spoke, Taran heard the faint notes of a signal horn. He frowned. "I dare not leave Prince Rhun to wander alone in the forest."

  "In that case," replied Fflewddur, glancing toward the setting sun, "we had best get hold of him without delay. A Ffiam is keen-eyed! But I'd rather not go stumbling about the countryside after dark, if it can possibly be avoided."

  "Hasten, yes, yes, with hurryings and scurry
ings!" cried Gurgi. "Fearsome shadows fall, and bold but cautious Gurgi does not know what hurtful things hide in them!"

  The companions rode quickly into the grove where, Taran felt certain, they would find the Prince. However, once beyond the ring of alders, and seeing nothing of him, Taran's alarm grew. Vainly he called the Prince's name. Only the echo returned.

  "He cannot have ridden far," he told the bard. "Even Rhun would have wits enough to halt at nightfall."

  Darkness covered the grove. The horses, more used to their quiet stalls in Dinas Rhydnant than to the forests of Mona, trod fearfully, rearing and shying at every wind-stirred bush. The companions were obliged to dismount and make their way on foot, leading the reluctant steeds. By this time Taran was deeply troubled. What had begun as a simple matter had turned grave.

  "He might have fallen from his horse," Taran said. "Even now he might be lying hurt or unconscious."

  "Then I suggest we find our way back to the rest of the band," said Fflewddur, "and ask them to help us. In this gloom the more eyes the better."

  "We would lose too much time," Taran answered, pressing on through the underbrush. Gurgi followed, whimpering softly to himself. The rising ground told Taran they were moving above the foothills. No sound came but the hiss of saplings that whipped back as he passed and the click of the horses' hooves over pale stones. Taran stopped short, his heart in his mouth. From a corner of his eye he glimpsed a fleeting movement. It lasted but an instant, a shadow within a shadow. Fighting down his fear, he groped ahead. The horses had turned more skittish than before, and Taran's mount laid back his ears and voiced a frightened whinny.

  Gurgi, too, had sensed the dark presence. The terrified creature's hair rose along his neck and he began to howl pitifully. "Wicked, evil things come to follow harmless Gurgi! Oh, kind master, save Gurgi's poor tender head from hurtful dangers!"

  Taran drew his sword and the companions, with many backward glances into the darkness, hurried on. This time the horses did not lag, but plunged desperately ahead, nearly dragging the bard with them.