by Myers, Karen
She started with their nearest neighbors and began to introduce Rhian generally, and George and Maelgwn served as their escorts, trying not to let their country manners disgrace them.
All went well for an hour or more, and they had worked their way back to the general vicinity of the throne, when three men entered the hall and made straight for them. George took one look and the hair rose on the back of his neck. Madog, he thought, they look like him. He froze Maelgwn with a look and put himself in front of his family.
“You,” the leader said to George. “You are Gwyn’s huntsman?”
“I am,” George said.
“I am Rhirid ab Owen Gwynedd, and these, my brothers Cynan and Cynwrig.” He stood, hands on his hips, and looked George over.
“Our father had seventeen sons. Madog was one of them.”
George nodded, waiting.
“I went with him to the new world once, when he first discovered it.” He stopped, his face working.
“I accuse you of his murder, here, before these witnesses.”
George said, “Madog was an abomination. He kidnapped children, tortured men for sport, and treated his people like cattle. I would have killed him if I could have, but alas I did not have that privilege. He was killed by another, an outraged mother rescuing her child.”
Quiet spread around their immediate circle.
“I don’t believe you,” Rhirid said. “I call upon you to answer for this.”
Creiddylad smiled openly from her seat. Lludd raised his voice and said, “We shall look into this, Rhirid ab Owen Gwynedd. There will be a formal judgment.”
Rhirid looked at him for a moment, then bowed to the king and led his brothers away.
George watched them leave apprehensively. He would defend himself against this accusation, but he wouldn’t let them imprison him. He looked around for guards coming his way, but there were none.
Angharad touched his arm. “You’re in no immediate danger, not while we’re guests here.”
He let her lead him away, and they continued their work in the crowd as if nothing had happened. How long could this continue, he wondered. Was it always like this, at a high court?
Alone in their bedchamber in Gwyn’s suite that evening, Angharad was finally free to let down her guard. George was more than willing to open his arms for her and she was content for a moment to shelter there, bemused over how reassuring such a basic comfort as a pair of strong arms could be.
“Thank you for going through that with me. It would have been much worse without you.”
“My jaw aches,” he muttered. “I’ve been clenching my teeth to restrain myself for hours.”
She pushed back reluctantly. “I know. And Maelgwn took his cue from you.”
She sat down on the bed. “They’re not all enemies, you know. I saw many friends. They couldn’t be open about it, in Lludd’s court, but they were there.”
“If you say so.” He looked at her, worry plain on his face. “I know you warned me about your children but, oh, I am so sorry for that.”
“So am I, but it can’t be fixed. I cannot live for their approval, but I can’t forget their childhood, either.”
She steeled herself. Now was the time to tell him.
“You remember Bleddyn, yes?”
“Your, um, mentor?”
“My most recent master, in the arts. He’s been looking for someone for me to take on, as a student.”
George nodded.
“He dropped a private word in my ear about Lludd.” She wondered how much to tell him about Bleddyn’s warning.
Alarm filled George’s face and he took a step toward her. “What can he do?”
“Anything he wants, here,” she said with a tired laugh. “Gwyn and I discussed the risk. He won’t harm me physically.” Probably not, anyway, she thought. “But he lost standing, respect, when I left his employ without warning after so long as his court painter, and he wants that back, for his pride’s sake.”
She looked up at him, wearily. “I think he will make me an offer and I don’t know what he’ll do when I refuse. We are guests here, and guest right is sacrosanct, but…”
“I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him,” George said, scowling.
The expression was new to her and she laughed at the image.
“Thank you, dear, I needed that,” she said. She had recovered some of her usual balance
He smiled back tentatively. “What should I do about Madog’s brothers?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Do as little as possible and keep out of Lludd’s sight. Gwyn will slow it down and it wouldn’t surprise me if we were gone before it goes anywhere.”
“And if they lose patience and come at me directly?”
“Try to stay out of their way, if you can.”
CHAPTER 14
George strode through the corridors back to Gwyn’s suite the next morning to join him for a meeting he’d requested. As he turned the last corner, he caught a glimpse of Rhodri, or someone very like him, walking away. He opened his mouth to call out to him, then thought better of it.
He walked into the common area of the suite and closed the door behind him. Gwyn was seated by the fire, waiting for him. Papers cluttered a table to his left, and he was reading a sheet when George came in.
“Was that Rhodri I just saw?” George said.
“Was it?” Gwyn responded blandly.
George gave him a dark look from under his brows but let it go. He couldn’t expect to be in on all of Gwyn’s plans.
Gwyn put aside the paper he held. “Are you ready to do your part?” he asked.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come, sit down.” He gestured at a chair on the other side of the table, and George obeyed.
Gwyn leaned back and put his fingertips together. “What is known of you here is felt as a threat. Some of the less scrupulous are likely to come after you, to eliminate the problem.”
“You think Madog’s brothers were put up to it, yesterday?”
“I think they were given a push, yes. I don’t want you so easily found, by them or anyone else.”
He paused, and George thought, here comes the real request.
“There are also some potential allies who I think will solidify if they can become more… comfortable with what you represent,” Gwyn said.
He leaned forward. “I want to send you on a tour to meet them, for a couple of days, each. To hunt with them wherever that’s possible. I want them to have a face and a person to counter their fear of the unknown, and it has the added benefit of getting you out of the way of dangers here at court.”
George protested. “I’m no diplomat.”
“You are simply a member of my family visiting them as a guest, one after another. They will treat you with courtesy. They’re curious, they want to get a look at you, away from my father.”
“Aren’t they afraid for their ways with me around?”
“I’ve given them assurances.” His look said, don’t make me sorry I did.
“Alone? What about Angharad? I fear Lludd has plans to take her back, and I don’t trust him.”
Gwyn leaned back again. “Ah, well, yes—that’s possible. But if he does, you won’t be able to stop it if you’re here, and she’ll be as safe here as anywhere.”
“What sort of protection is that?” George growled.
“The best she can get. Trust me on this.”
“That’s not good enough, sir.”
“It’s a risk she’s willing to take, or didn’t she tell you? She, too, has a part to play.”
“She told me,” George said, reluctantly.
Gwyn wisely let it rest there for a moment.
“I’ve provided you with a guard and escort. He has your travel list for the next several days and we’ll bring you back in time for Rhian’s ceremony. You know him—he asked for the duty—Emrys, the one you carried back through the Edgewood barrier-way in time to save his life.”
&nbs
p; George remembered him. That was a couple of months ago and he hadn’t seen him since, just heard of his recovery.
“I think you’ll find him faithful,” Gwyn said.
“Well, that’s something.” George tried to put a good face on his assignment, but Gwyn knocked that down again with his next warning.
“You leave this afternoon.”
Not much time to say goodbye to Angharad, George thought. I better tell Maelgwn to stick close to her.
George walked to the stables with his saddlebags over his shoulder. They would be traveling light, two sets of hunting clothes and not much else. His hosts were to provide a change of horses and whatever cleaning would be required. Travel in the afternoon, private conversations in the evening, hunting the next day, weather and conditions permitting. and a grand dinner that evening. Then on to the next one.
A peculiar approach to diplomacy, he thought.
His guard was waiting for him, dressed in Gwyn’s green livery, and a groom held their horses. George was relieved to see that his looked up to his weight.
He recognized the guard. “It’s good to see you well,” George said to him, taking his hand.
Emrys bowed low over it. “I owe you my life,” he said.
“Nonsense,” George said. “They’d have pulled you back quickly enough with that rope. Now, how does this work?”
“I have a copy of the arrangements for you.” Emrys handed him a packet of paper which George stuffed into the chest pocket of his hunting coat. A heavy cloak was tied to the back of his saddle, he saw, though the weather was mild enough at the moment.
“How many are we covering?” he asked.
“Four, certainly. Five, if we can. Each host will supply a way-token and guide for the next one, and I have tokens for the public ways to return if something should interrupt the journey.”
The sooner started, the sooner he could get back to Angharad, George thought. He took his horse from the groom, checked the girth, and swung into the saddle. “Who’s first?”
“The lady Glesni,” Emrys said.
Gwion’s sponsor, George thought. I wonder what’s going on back home.
Ives looked around Gwyn’s council room. He’d been here before, of course, but not often. His chair, as always, was uncomfortably large.
“Were you seen?” was the question.
“No one seemed to notice me entering the manor, and there was no one in the great hall when I ducked in.”
Eurig held Gwyn’s customary seat at the end of the table. He had moved to his rooms in the manor for the duration of Gwyn’s absence. He and Ives had been corresponding discretely with notes but he’d wanted to meet in person today without making it obvious that Ives was doing more than just his work as kennel-master.
“Brynach has been telling me about the new men,” Eurig said. “They’re doing a decent job as huntsmen, he says.”
“You’ve followed them for a couple of hunts,” Ives pointed out. “They are huntsmen in their own country and our pack is biddable. You know it’s not their professional qualifications that are the worry.”
“Well then, and what are you doing about it? Your note hinted at a plan.”
Ives leaned forward. “I don’t like their interest in the huntsman’s office. All our records are there. And the oliphant—damage to that alone would be a disruption to the great hunt. The problem is, I can’t well make the room off limits for them without alerting them more to our concerns than we want to. We don’t want them to think of us as on our guard.”
Eurig nodded.
“Alun and I are shaping wooden covers for the shelves, in case anyone peeks in, as if to secure them. But we have other thoughts in mind…”
He outlined their plan to Eurig in some detail. “It may be an unnecessary precaution, but it will do no harm.”
“I like it,” Eurig said, and his long gray mustaches twitched as he smiled.
Hadyn walked in for his own private meeting with Eurig, and Ives rose to leave.
“Be careful,” Eurig told him. “We haven’t seen their real work yet.”
Ives nodded. No harm would come to the hounds on his watch. The trick would be escaping notice from Gwion and Dyfnallt as he worked to protect them.
George rode well back in the middle of the field. This was his first hunt for red deer in the formal style, and he was trying to take in every detail. His borrowed horse was a large, heavy, bay mare that looked like she’d been behind a plow the day before and gussied up for his visit, but she carried him well enough. The lighter fae were mounted on flashier beasts, much like the ones Gwion had brought with him to Greenway Court.
They’d arrived yesterday in time for a tour of Glesni’s kennels led by Idwal, the huntsman who was filling in for Gwion. George dutifully admired the hounds, smooth-coated black and tans, rather larger than the foxhounds he was used to. When he’d asked Idwal about Gwion, he’d gotten an empty courteous response.
Dinner hadn’t been any more informative. Glesni was charming, but she had little personal to say. She thanked him for his acceptance of Gwion in training and asked after his well-being, and George realized with chagrin that his own responses were just as formal. So much for getting to know each other better, he thought, but he did his best to keep the conversation going, hard work with her taciturn advisers.
He shoved all that aside to enjoy the day. They’d been up at dawn, and he knew the hunt staff had been up earlier. This morning assembly had been like a scene out of a medieval hunting book. The huntsman and his hounds gathered in a central clearing of the extensive woods, and all the riders with them.
It put him in mind of a military exercise. Idwal, to judge by the titles that were flying through the air, was really the Master of Game and the head of a large staff. Glesni’s retainers had laid out long board tables in the cold grass and served up a hearty breakfast for all the hunters from the cooking fires, well-supplied from the wagons that had come along for the assembly. George had grabbed some bread and meat to make an impromptu sandwich, and then placed himself on the outskirts of the hunt staff to try and get a sense for how the morning would work. Emrys had joined him, and together they listened.
Idwal called upon each man to speak. The forester told him of two harbored deer, warrantable stags, old enough to be hunted. Each of the two lymerers, holding what looked like a bloodhound to George, reported on the location and situation of their stag and how it was bedded up, and the likelihood of it still being there when the hunt arrived. They presented something held in the winter-dried grass to Idwal for his inspection and George realized, those are droppings. Of course, fewmets—something he’d read about in the old books. They also gave him a small stick, a measure of the length of the deer’s slot, his track. Idwal inspected the fewmets for health and size and made his choice.
He’d consulted with Glesni, then set everything in motion. The dogs were divided into couples to be held in one or two pairs at relay points along the line the deer was likely to take. The best hounds, quickest to find, were assigned to remote locations, lest the deer should break away from the plan and they were needed. One couple of the best hounds were held in reserve to start the deer. The edge of the woods boiled with activity as each man headed to his assigned spot, on foot. The lymerer whose deer had been chosen stayed with the huntsman who held the first couple of hounds. George realized that “huntsman” here was rather a minor office, really, just the handler of a few hounds.
It took some time for everyone to get into place, but the breakfast occupied the riders. Not until all the hunters had finished and mounted their horses did the actual hunt begin.
George had been bewildered by the flurry of horn calls, few of which he could recognize. So much more formal, he’d thought, more military. He could see the necessity, with so many parts to coordinate.
He’d watched, from the back of the field, as they approached the covert for the chosen stag from downwind and the lymerer let his leashed hound approach the deer to push it
out. As soon as Idwal could see it well enough to confirm its size and suitability, he’d blown a call and the huntsman holding the first couple of hounds released them on its trace and the stag bolted.
As the deer trotted through deep undergrowth, not apparently deterred by the size of its antlers, George tried in vain to catch a glimpse of it.
He followed it with his mind but couldn’t get a look. He could feel its confidence and irritation at the hounds behind it, and its disdain for the men and their horses. It was wily and avoided the expected route for some time, but the hounds had no difficulty following and kept pushing it along. Eventually it passed one of the relay points and the huntsman there added his couple of hounds after they went by, and so the pack grew, expanding each time. George could follow what was happening with his beast-sense, even if he couldn’t see much of it.
How very different this was, George thought. Go straight to your target, start the pack in small elements, then gradually bring them together. No whippers-in needed, just handlers for each couple of hounds. What an exercise in coordination.
The constant horn signaling must be repositioning some of the outlier relays, he assumed, the plan changing as the hunt proceeded. And they send people to me for training? If this is what Gwion had handled before, we must seem very rustic indeed.
The hounds, about half the full pack by now, had checked at a stream in the woods. The deer had clearly trotted through it for some length and they searched upstream and down for its exit point.
The riders let their horses breathe as they waited. They had long since left the manicured rides cut into the forest margins and were following down game trails as best they could. Now that he had a moment, George reached out for the local ways. He found three in the vicinity of Glesni’s castle, and two more, hidden. I keep finding hidden ways, he thought. Who owns them? What are they used for?
The hounds broke into cry downstream and the field set off after them. George held back to let the leading hunters go first. By the time he entered the stream with Emrys in his turn, most of the riders had gone by, but when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a white pony with a young boy that stopped abruptly, almost dislodging his passenger, he wheeled his horse back around.