Gwalchmai nodded and rechecked the fastenings of the pack. Teleri shot me a slantwise look, but said nothing. She understood what I was doing, and why.
Everything tied in its place, Gwalchmai turned to Teleri and bowed. “Sister Teleri, I think the three of us owe you much.”
She snorted. “For healing this girl and her ox of a man? What else is a woman who purports to be a healer supposed to do? But I think you intend to thank me for it.”
He smiled. “I do so intend, if you will permit it. Most persons in your place would consider our loyalties once and immediately become enemies, and I have hurt a friend of yours. The debt we owe is the greater because of this. I cannot speak of payment, and yet…” he tore the gold armlets from his arm and offered them to her. “If you would take these, as a token of my gratitude and your worth, I would be honored.”
Her eyebrows went up, and she stared at the armlets, as well she might, for they were heavy and worth a good deal. She put out her hand slowly and took one. “This I’ll keep,” she said, and then, taking another, “and this goes to satisfy the other sisters for the things I have given you. Keep the rest, Lord. You may need money. So: go, and God’s blessing be upon you, with a smooth journey.”
Gwalchmai slid the remaining armlet back over his wrist, gave another bow, and mounted. I caught Teleri’s arms, told her thank you, kissed her—which surprised her—and scrambled onto Ronan’s horse. Teleri embraced Eivlin and helped her onto the saddle in front of me. Then she opened the gate, and we rode out from St. Elena’s.
We had not reached the main road when we had to make another farewell. Gwyn burst from the wood carrying a sword made of two sticks, and shouted delightedly, “Rhys! You’re safe!”
Gwalchmai reined in Ceincaled hastily as the horse shied from the movement. “Is this the boy that led you to St. Elena’s?” he asked me.
“Yes, my lord,” I said, not looking at him. If only Gwyn made no mention of his mother.
“You escaped?” asked Gwyn eagerly. “Was there a fight?”
Gwalchmai sat, tall and graceful on his splendid stallion, smiling at the dirty and enthusiastic boy. “There was a fight,” he said. “And Rhys and I escaped. Your name, I think, is Gwyn.”
The boy looked at Gwalchmai fully for the first time, and his dark eyes widened. I could tell that he felt, as once I had felt, that here was a song come alive. He gave a deep and extraordinarily clumsy bow. “Y-yes, Great Lord. Are you Rhys’s lord, a great warrior, in the Family?”
“I am Rhys’s lord, Gwalchmai ap Lot. I think I must thank you for showing my servant the way to St. Elena’s.”
Gwyn’s face lit like a torch. “It was no matter, Lord Gwalchmai.” In an undertone, “Rhys, you didn’t tell me that you served him.” He edged closer to me, then looked at Eivlin. “And your friend is better, too, and everything’s come out well, then!” He caught my foot and smiled radiantly at me. “Rhys, did your lord rescue you, and kill all those evil warriors, like in the songs, with a fiery sword?”
I shook my head. “Not all of them. Only some of them.”
The thought delighted him. “I wish I had been there. I can throw spears. I would have fought them when they came, only…” His face fell. I remembered Elidan falling under the blow from the flat of Medraut’s sword.
“Perhaps when you’re older,” I said.
“I would have fought them,” Gwyn said fiercely. “I wish they had let me. I had nightmares last night. I dreamt they were doing terrible things to you, and to Mama.”
I’m sorry,” I said, awkwardly.
He smiled again. “It was all right. I screamed so that I woke everyone up, and Mama gave me warm milk and sang to me until I went back to sleep; she hasn’t done that since I was little.”
Gwalchmai laughed, and Gwyn remembered him, and went awkward again. “I am glad you rescued him, Lord Gwalchmai.”
“You may be glad that he rescued me, as well, for he did that.” Gwyn gave me a highly impressed look, fastened his eyes back on Gwalchmai. My lord leaned forward, resting one arm across his knees. “I think you lost a spear in helping Rhys.”
Gwyn nodded regretfully. “A good one. Hywel gave it to me. I can make other ones, but I don’t know how to make the points properly.”
“Perhaps you will get it back when you go home.” Gwalchmai drew one of his throwing spears from its strap and extended it towards Gwyn, butt end first. “But in case you do not, take this.”
Gwyn took it slowly, scarcely daring to breathe. He clutched it tightly. “Thank you, Lord Gwalchmai.” He made another attempt at a bow.
“You keep it carefully,” I said. My voice was too harsh; well, better that than to have it shaking. “Practice with it. Become a good warrior, and then come to Camlann. The Emperor Arthur himself was a bastard raised in a monastery. It can be done.”
Gwalchmai gave me a surprised look. “Study well, too,” he advised Gwyn. “To be a priest is a noble thing, and I’ve heard that you’re to be one.”
Gwyn shrugged off the notion, stroking the spear, “I’m going to be a warrior. Do you really think I can be?”—earnestly, and to me.
“Yes,” I said firmly, “if you work at it.”
Gwalchmai smiled, gathering up his reins. “Well, the best of fortunes to you, then, and a welcome to Camlann, if you come there. Again, my thanks.” He touched Ceincaled’s sides, and the horse started off at a trot. I followed, riding past Gwyn, who watched us with an exalted face, clutching his spear. When we had gone up the path a short way, I heard a triumphant whoop behind us and looked back to see him dashing down the path.
Gwalchmai was still smiling. “He is a brave and spirited lad, that one. But you cannot think, Rhys, that he will come to Camlann.”
“He might.” I did not look at my lord. I could sense his curious glance, so I added, “I like the boy, from what I’ve seen of him. I think he’s being wasted at St. Elena’s. It makes me angry.”
Gwalchmai nodded again. From the way his smile faded as we rode on I could see that he was again thinking of Elidan. It made me bitter sick to think of him carrying that burden all his life, and sicker to think of Gwyn. But there was no answer for it. The world’s a mixture, and something always goes wrong. And, on the whole, something at the back of my mind insisted, I would rather be Gwalchmai than Elidan. I did not think she would forget now, and, as Teleri had said, she was shutting herself in to shut the world out, and her spirit was too fierce to be content with that darkness.
THIRTEEN
The second time we entered Degannwy was like the first in that it was again dark by the time we arrived, and Maelgwn’s guards again made us wait at the gates. Eivlin jeered at the one who was sent to Maelgwn, which made him walk off stiffly but in more of a hurry. I tightened the arm I had round her waist. There should be no reason for them to talk to Maelgwn. Perhaps they were only doing it to annoy us. Eivlin leaned back a little into my arms, comfortably smiling. She at least seemed unweakened by the journey. After I had managed to make Gwalchmai eat some of Teleri’s provisions, I had given Eivlin the rest, so she’d no cause to go fainting from hunger.
Maelgwn’s guard returned, another warrior with him. The guard nodded, and we were allowed through the gate, but the other warrior caught Ceincaled’s bridle as soon as we entered. He addressed Gwalchmai in Irish.
“What is he saying?” I asked, whispering into Eivlin’s ear.
She tilted her head back, looking at me. “He’s asking whether your lord will come at once to see the lord Agravain…he says that Agravain locked himself into his room last night, and has spoken to no one since.”
Gwalchmai questioned the other, and he responded. Eivlin continued to translate: “Your lord says he will come at once, but asks if my lady, or his other brother, are also there. Brenaínn—that’s the warrior—says that Medraut is here, but that he also h
as locked himself into his room, since last night. My lady has not returned. Brenaínn is afraid, and he says he mistrusts Maelgwn.”
I didn’t like the sound of it. Agravain, little as I liked him, was still a security for us when he held control, but it did not sound as though his control extended very far at the moment. I had thought Morgawse soundly defeated, but what if she’d recovered? And I did not like the sound of Medraut shutting himself into his room and doing God alone knew what. And that fox Maelgwn Gwynedd still held Degannwy and all the lands about, and all his men still hated Arthur and the Family. It might be better to exercise discretion and investigate before we entered the stronghold.
Gwalchmai, however, thanked the warrior and trotted Ceincaled up the hill, head held high. I sighed and followed.
Agravain had apparently been given one of the anterooms of the feast hall, a more honorable location than our hut, though probably less comfortable. We had to pass through the hall itself to reach it. There was no proper feast that night, but Maelgwn and some of his warriors sat morosely about the high table, drinking. Gwalchmai paused to go up the hall and greet the king.
Maelgwn smiled unpleasantly. “So, you are back then, just as my guard reported. With your servant, too. Well, well, some here are going to lose money.” Someone snickered, and Maelgwn eyed his warriors viciously. “Myself included, then. There was high wagering that you would not return. Where is the lady, your mother the Queen?”
Gwalchmai shook his head. “That I do not know. I last saw her yesterday. Ask that of my brother Medraut.”
Maelgwn chuckled. I realized that he was drunk. “I would have done that very thing, but no one can ask anything of your brother Medraut, any more than of your brother Agravain—or of your father Lot, though he may be in a different category. A most silent family. Do your affairs prosper? Tell me, is it true that you are a sorcerer?”
“It is not true,” Gwalchmai nearly snapped.
“Ah. I wondered, you see. You and your mother, at odds, and both…you ought to be a sorcerer. You look so much like her, and I think your family’s bespelled. But if you see your mother, tell her I am waiting, hm?—but now you wish to talk to your brother, to your elder brother, since you will not speak to the younger. Go ahead.”
Gwalchmai bowed, freezingly courteous, and strode off to find Agravain.
The door, round the side of the feast hall, was certainly locked. My lord rapped on it, knocked again. No reply. He called, “Agravain?” Silence. I shuffled my feet, about to suggest that Eivlin and I go off somewhere else, when I remembered that we were not safe in Degannwy. A pity. I had no wish to meet Agravain if he was in one of his rages.
Gwalchmai called again. After a moment came a sound of movement, then a short, cold command, in Irish.
“‘Go away,’” Eivlin translated. I nodded. I had guessed.
“Agravain. It is me. What is the trouble?”
“Gwalchmai?” came from behind the door.
“Who else?”
An oath, footsteps; the door was flung open and Agravain stood in it staring at us. He was not a pleasant sight. He wore a mail-shirt over a badly crumpled tunic, and carried a naked sword. His bright hair and beard were matted and filthy, his eyes bloodshot and darkly circled. He had bitten through his lower lip, and the blood was smeared across his chin and cheek. He stared at Gwalchmai as though he couldn’t recognize him.
“Agravain!” My lord stepped into the room, catching his brother’s arms. “God in Heaven, what has happened?”
“I killed her,” said Agravain in a hoarse, flat voice. “I killed her, Gwalchmai. But she deserved it. She…she…och ochone, where have you been?”
“Never mind that, man, sit down. Rhys, find some mead.” Gwalchmai guided his brother into the room. I stood a moment before the door, then ran to find the mead. Eivlin looked at the other two, at me, then picked up her skirts and followed me, shouting, “Rhys! Wait!” I stopped, waited until she caught up, and we went on together. We said nothing to each other.
Saidi ap Sugyn in the kitchens was not pleased to see either of us, but he had learned better than to argue with us. He gave us the mead, with some bread and ham I requested. If Agravain had locked himself in since the previous night, he ought to be hungry. But my brain kept repeating the words, “I killed her.” No one needed to tell me whom he meant, and yet…I looked at Eivlin, who was frowning deeply and carrying the bread. Her father had been under a curse for killing his brother, but this was something worse.
When we got back to the room, Gwalchmai had persuaded his brother to sit down and put the sword away, and had himself sat down beside him. He was talking, quietly and smoothly, in Irish. Agravain replied with a few incoherent words in British. My lord glanced up and nodded when I came in, so I found some goblets and poured the mead. Agravain drained his cup at once, while Gwalchmai set his down untouched. I thought Agravain had the better idea.
Agravain glared at me savagely, glanced down at the sword. Gwalchmai caught his arm again and shook him, saying, “It is fine. Rhys is our servant; he will do no harm.”
The other shuddered and put his head in his hands. I edged over, picked up his empty cup and refilled it. When I gave it to him he drained it as quickly as he had the first, then sat staring at the bottom, clutching the empty vessel with both hands. I was afraid to disturb him. Gwalchmai signaled, so I handed him the flask of mead, and he poured more for his brother.
Agravain took only two swallows of his third cup before looking up at Gwalchmai. “Why did you take so long coming back?”
“There were some matters of importance to me. And I had killed Ronan, you know. I could not come back at once. But you must tell me what has happened.”
Agravain began to shudder again. “I told you. I killed her.”
“You killed our mother.” Gwalchmai’s voice was clear and calm as he named the act.
“Yes. Yes. She…I…she killed Father. You know she did. She was playing the whore with that fox-haired bastard Maelgwn, so she killed Father.”
“Agravain.” Gwalchmai’s hand clasped his brother’s wrist, steadying, but his voice was raw with pain. “You promised me that you would wait, that you would not act until after I had seen her.”
“Well, you went away to see her.”
“Till I’d come back, till you knew! There was no need, what have you done?”
“I killed her. She deserved it.”
“You’ve destroyed yourself. No, no, be still. Have some more mead.”
“I have been here, waiting for you to come back. I thought I would kill myself, at first, then I said, no, wait for Gwalchmai. Do you think they will kin-wreck me?”
Gwalchmai shook his head. “That…oh. No, I think not. They may even make you king yet, and say that she was not of the blood of the clan, so that you have not murdered any kin. But ochone, ochon, mo brathair…”
“Speak British! If I try to talk of it in Irish I will go mad. It’s too close to think about in Irish.” He took a deep swallow of mead and looked at his brother, more evenly now. “I have called down the curse, haven’t I? They say it is a terrible curse to kill your mother. But she deserved it.”
“But you did not, Agravain. Why did you act?”
He threw the nearly empty cup of mead across the room. “You went out to find her. And I said, ‘Here am I, too cowardly to dare what my brother dares, afraid even to think of her.’ And then I realized, ‘Well, I have been afraid to think of her for years, afraid to look at her, much less fight her. But she has murdered my own father, used him up and tossed him aside and murdered him.’ So I got my horse and rode out. I found your tracks leaving the main road. When it was dark I found a shepherd’s hut, and she was there. So was Medraut, but he was asleep. She looked very strange, as though age had touched her or her magic failed. She screamed and begged and wept and screamed.
And I killed her. Medraut started waking before I could, could…bring down the sword; so then I had to, or he would have stopped me. So I killed her, and ran out, and came back here to wait for you. But she deserved it.”
Gwalchmai said nothing, merely embraced his brother. Agravain put his head down on the other’s shoulder, clutching his arms. His shoulders shook as he began to weep. I knew that, whether or not it was dangerous to wander about Degannwy, the room was not a place for Eivlin or me. I touched her arm, and we slipped out, closing the door.
By the time I realized that I was not sure where to go, habit had brought me to the hut Maelgwn had first given us. Well, it was as good a place as any. I opened the door. Rhuawn was not there and the place needed cleaning. I went over to the hearth and built the fire up, while Eivlin sat on the bed and sliced the half loaf of bread which she’d kept. The day was too warm to warrant the fire, but the flames and the soft sound of it were comforting. When it was burning well I went and sat beside Eivlin, putting my arm about her, and we watched the smoke go up. I tried not to think of Agravain’s face.
“What sort of a man was this Agravain?” Eivlin asked, after a little while.
I took a piece of the bread, thinking it over. “A true warrior, of the sort you once told me you hated. Violent, moody, bad-tempered, though cheerful and generous enough with his equals. A fierce fighter, a fiercer feaster, and a great believer in thrashing servants to keep them in their place. God forgive me! I never liked him.”
“And now he has killed my lady, his own mother. And the thought of that act will eat into his heart, like rot eating into a wound.”
I nodded. “My lord was right: Agravain has destroyed himself. Eivlin, my heart, it is a bitter cold thing to think of. He did not deserve it. He had enough that was noble in him: courage, honesty, great loyalty towards those he loved. You know the royal clan and the warband of the islands; do you think he will be kin-wrecked?”
Kingdom of Summer Page 28