Gwion did likewise and followed the King from the forum through a passage that ran behind the basilica to the public bath complex.
Closed and vacant at this hour, these baths made the one in Gwion’s villa look like a wash bowl. The huge walled complex was open to the night sky in places, and the moonlight streaming through the voids in the ceiling lit the pillars to one side of the covered arcades that surrounded the huge baths in each room – and there were several. A few token lanterns were lit throughout, and the light reflected in the steaming water was enchanting. Gwion was not given time to study any of the features of this amazing space in detail as the King was in a hurry to receive his gift.
They exited the bathhouse and walked past two guards, who asked no questions as they concerned themselves with people wishing to enter.
At the villa, in Gwion’s chambers, he closed all the shutters and doors. ‘All clear.’
The King drew down his hood as Gwion brought forth the chest Keridwen had given him to pass on. ‘Do you know what is in there?’
‘Not a clue.’ Gwion sat it upon the bed and stepped away to give the King clear access. ‘The Mistress said I was permitted to be present when you open it.’ He presented Owain with a key to the lock.
The King’s eyes grew wide in anticipation as he unlocked the chest and swung it open. ‘It’s empty.’
Gwion’s heart began pounding in his chest. ‘What?’ He moved closer to observe only the red silky lining of the box within and a heated panic began rising in him. ‘How is that possible?’
‘Could it have been stolen?’ The King sounded fairly disappointed, and rightly so.
‘I have the only key and have not opened the chest since it was given me, I swear to you.’
‘Is this the Goddess’s way of telling me that I have lost her favour?’ Owain began to panic. ‘Is this a test of some kind?’
‘Wait!’ Gwion clicked his fingers, having recalled something Morvran had mentioned the night Owain’s son had been born. ‘Reach inside, Highness.’
Owain grinned, being that there was clearly nothing there, yet he complied non-the-less. ‘What is the point— wait.’ He frowned, wriggling his fingers about with a bemused frown on his face. ‘What is that?’
‘I know what it is.’ Gwion was exhilarated by the prospect. ‘Lift it out.’
‘Can I?’ The King clawed his fingers into the invisible item and as he lifted it out flashes of rich red fabric could be seen as the item unfurled.
‘It’s the Cloak of Concealment . . . fashioned by—’
‘Gwydion, Son of Don,’ they concluded at once with nervous laughs.
‘The heroic magician.’ Owain boggled.
‘And trickster.’
‘I am holding the garment of a god in my hand!’ The King swung the mantle about, observing how one side of the cloak appeared perfectly normal, and yet turned about the fabric camouflaged into its surrounds.
‘Well clearly, you need not worry about having lost Keridwen’s favour.’ Gwion was excited for him as Owain donned the mantle and raised the hood.
‘Is it working?’
It took a moment for the cloak to take full effect. ‘Once you are still, yes.’
‘So, if I were to move, like this?’ Owain shifted sideways a few paces.
‘I cannot see you, but the movement of the cloak appears to disturb the physicality of your vicinity, which settles again when you still yourself.’
The mantle didn’t make one completely invisible like the ring that the Goddess had given Gwion, and so was not designed for stealth during movement, but would render the stationary observer undetectable to the eye.
Owain lowered the hood and it appeared as if his head was floating about by itself, which amused Gwion in his current state of inebriation. ‘This is a gift far beyond any I could possibly have imagined. The Goddess is most gracious. At a gathering like this, we could learn much about my allies.’
‘We? Oh no.’
‘We have to try it out.’
Was this why Keridwen had given Gwion the Ring of Invisibility? Surely not. ‘I feel quite certain such a gift is meant to save your life at some point, rather than be used to spy on your subjects. The advantage of the gift will be blown if anyone discovers you possess such an item. It would also leave the treasure open to be stolen.’
Owain wore a tortured expression on his face. ‘You’re no fun . . .’
‘Was I ever?’
Owain considered this a second. ‘Not really, no.’
‘But I am usually right.’ Gwion pointed to the chest to suggest they lock up the prize to transport it to safety.
‘All right, I promise I will not use it for any covert means.’ Owain reached for his own cape and placed it on over his treasure, which nullified the effects. ‘But being that we are wanting to sneak back into the feast, I shall just keep it on as a cautionary measure?’
‘Sire—’ Gwion wished to protest.
‘Once we are back inside the complex there is a little treasury to the rear of the basilica, where we can store the cloak until all of the guests depart. You can carry the chest.’
Clearly, the King was not parting with his gift, so Gwion caved. ‘As you wish, but I—’
Owain held up a finger, not prepared to discuss it any further, and again directed Gwion to collect the treasure box.
All Owain had to do was peek from beneath his hood and the guards at the door to the baths parted to grant them both entry, no questions.
Beyond the grand entrance foyer, the moonlight shone directly down onto the pools of the bathhouse, flooding the steamy waters with its silvery blue light.
‘Oh, dear Goddess,’ Gwion uttered, mesmerised by the serenity of the scene.
‘Magical, isn’t it?’ Owain came to a stop upon noting Gwion’s enchantment. ‘For such a warlike race, their creations are marvels of great beauty. It makes you want to journey to Rome,’ Owain admitted.
‘It makes me want to travel everywhere.’ Gwion felt greatly humbled by the wonders of this centuries-old city, or maybe the wine had caught up with him? ‘How many marvels must there be beyond our shores that we will never see?’ The notion made his heart swell in his chest and brought a tear to his eye. This was the first time he’d ever considered that he might like to explore the lands beyond Cymru, and the compulsion was strong, like fate whispering in his ear.
‘Perhaps one day we shall explore—’ Owain’s ears pricked up as they heard the doors open at the end of the complex, closest to the forum. Someone had entered the bathhouse beyond this one and the footsteps were headed this way. The King moved to a nearby column to peek out and up the long arcade towards the opening through to the next bathhouse. ‘Hide.’ Owain returned, whipping off his outer cape, and beckoned Gwion to join him beneath the Cloak of Concealment.
‘Why?’ Gwion didn’t see the need to be covert now they were back inside the palace.
‘It’s my brothers, the last people we want finding out about the mantle,’ Owain was explaining as Gwion reached into the pouch inside his pocket and hooked the Ring of Invisibility onto his finger. ‘Where in the name of Annwn did you go?’
‘I’m still here,’ Gwion replied, trying not to look down at his invisible self as it still made him queasy.
The King gasped. ‘How are you doing that?’
‘Shhh. Stay perfectly still.’
The footsteps and voices moved closer and began to seep through the silence.
‘Why are you tormenting Owain on the eve of his wedding?’ Caswallon was in a bad mood.
‘Doesn’t it piss you off that now he has a lovely young wife, he’s going to start breeding heirs to our kingdoms?’ Cadfer was equally obnoxious.
‘You’d do well to stay on his good side, lest you end up victim to the soul count of Dyrnwyn,’ Caswallon warned.
‘What was that magic number?’ Cadfer calmed down. ‘Did you ever find out?’
‘There seems to be some doubt on the exact number.’ The
y entered the bathhouse Gwion and Owain were concealed within.
‘But roughly,’ Cadfer prompted. ‘How many men did that creepy little bard supposedly bring back to life? The ode boasts a thousand! But I think that’s bollocks.’
‘I don’t know, and I don’t need to know.’ Caswallon backed away.
‘Of course we need to know.’ Cadfer held out the goblet in his hand as he reasoned. ‘How else are we to count down to the day his invincibility runs out? We need to know how many men to throw at that sword—’
‘You’re drunk,’ Caswallon cut him off.
‘Would it only require a few assassins, do you think? Or will it take a whole war?’ Cadfer laughed as he’d got Cadwallon fuming.
‘Father’s will left us kingdoms, which Owain has expanded—’
‘Father is not here,’ Cadfer scoffed. ‘This partnership of ours is doomed to fail.’
‘If you cause any offence to the Lady Tegid, or our brother’s bride, I will kill you myself.’ Caswallon moved to leave.
‘Your wife is very beautiful; I’d welcome the attempt,’ Cadfer countered coolly.
It was the custom that if one king killed another the victor could claim the wife, along with the kingdom, of the defeated ruler.
‘Why must you covet what everyone else has? There is plenty of land beyond Cymru; go steal some of that back from the Saxons, just like Owain did.’ Caswallon stormed out of there, slamming the door closed in his wake.
Cadfer served him the finger and, polishing off his drink, threw the goblet aside where it bounced into the pool. ‘What if what others have covet me, dear brother?’ He found this amusing. ‘I predict more bastards for Gwynedd.’ He swaggered back to the celebrations at his own relaxed pace.
The King said nothing until they were inside the guarded treasury with the door closed. ‘We just achieved peace; is it to be civil war now?’ He kept his voice low, but it trembled, along with the rest of him. ‘Can I no longer trust my own brothers?’
‘Caswallon is loyal,’ Gwion suspected.
‘Even he has sought to find out Dyrnwyn’s soul count.’ Owain shook his head, and turned all the intensity he was feeling in Gwion’s direction. ‘How do you make yourself invisible?’
Gwion took a step backwards, feeling a bad idea was afoot. ‘I am not at liberty to say.’
‘I need you to use it for me,’ Owain insisted. ‘I can no longer hope that my goodwill will keep me in good stead with my allies. If my brothers will turn against me, then any man here could do the same.’
‘No, Sire—’
‘But not you, Gwion.’ Owain placed a hand on each of his shoulders. ‘You, I trust. You are the only one.’
‘Cyngen Brockwell,’ he posed.
Owain ticked his head. ‘If made to choose between Caswallon and myself, I don’t know. Especially if they were to ever discover what you know.’
‘If your majesty raises that matter again I shall be forced to violence,’ Gwion stated soberly, and the King laughed at the idea, still drunk. Was it too much to hope that Owain would forget all he’d heard by tomorrow? ‘Cadfer is drunk, insecure and restless; address his issues head-on – tell him the Goddess told you of his concerns and then see if you can devise something that will amuse him. Caswallon seems happy and loyal enough, but get Cadfer as far away from Caswallon’s queen as possible. Just to be safe. There, all fixed.’
‘I need you here with me,’ Owain decided.
Gwion cautiously shook his head. ‘You made a deal with the Goddess—’
‘And your time on her project has near come to an end.’
‘But my education has barely begun.’ Gwion stopped shaking his head, but was not backing down on this.
‘I need an adviser, like you.’
‘I am honoured. But I am not that man. I am no politician, I am a seeker of knowledge and the student of a goddess.’
The King surely realised there was no competing with the hand that fate had already dealt Gwion. ‘Then just for an hour, be my spy.’
Gwion rolled his head around, knowing he’d just be commanded into doing it in any case. ‘Of course. I shall report on the morrow of anything untoward.’
After a tour around the banquet tables and a turn around the forum, the most untoward instance he’d witnessed was Cadfer trying to weasel Dyrnwyn’s magic soul count out of Gilmore, who merely laughed at the question and walked away. Gwion was just about to rejoin the world of the visible when he noted Creirwy and Gladys walking into the forum from the banquet hall.
Gwion headed their way, of the mind to startle the ladies with his sudden appearance. However, Meddyf and Ganhumara beat him to their company, and so he refrained from his prank as Owain’s betrothed introduced her sister-in-law to his lady.
‘It is a rare treat to meet someone from such an unusual background, Lady Tegid,’ said Meddyf, having risen from her curtesy. She made the statement sound quite innocent, and yet it immediately got Gwion’s hackles up. ‘We were wondering . . .’ She referred to Ganhumara, whose eyes widened in horror. ‘Is it true that your family are all cursed monsters?’
‘No.’ Ganhumara denied having any such interest, but it was too late, Creirwy’s trigger had been hit.
‘Those monsters—’ she loomed over the girls, a tempest brewing in her eyes ‘—sent the dragon to the aid of your husband, and—’ her eyes shifted to Ganhumara ‘—your husband’s sword once belonged to us! You would do well to show more respect when you address beings beyond your feeble understanding. For I assure you both, I am not the one who is cursed here.’
Meddyf fled and Ganhumara burst into tears and backed away after her. Everyone was silent and staring at his lady.
‘Ladies.’ Gwion appeared out of nowhere and everyone gasped; even the bard nearby who’d played on through the exchange of words, stopped playing upon his appearance.
‘How did you do that?’ Gladys was diverted.
‘Magic.’ He looked to Creirwy, and held out a hand to her. ‘I believe I promised you a dance, my Lady.’
Her scowl melted into a smile as he led her away by the hand and they both vanished into thin air, to the gasps of all around.
The eyes of all had been on the representative of the Goddess all evening, and Creirwy let go of her angst as they danced their way around the gathering unseen – yet not unheard – by all.
‘Thank you for dragging me out of there and giving them something besides my outburst to be gossiping about tomorrow,’ his lady mumbled, falling asleep on his shoulder as they stumbled towards her bed. He lowered her onto it, and backed up to find his balance having been lightened of her weight.
‘There will be a whole new song in this evening’s antics I expect.’ He rubbed his forehead, annoyed that he’d just built on the legend he didn’t want. But at least he’d spared his lady from an awkward moment and ended the evening on a high note.
‘My hero.’ She snuggled into her pillow and closed her eyes.
So shattered was Gwion from the evening’s exertions, intrigues and excesses, that he sought out his own bed without delay and, landing upon it, sighed with relief – being horizontal had never felt so good.
TIMEOUS TRAPS
‘Master Gwion, the King is here to see you.’
‘Wa—’ Gwion, face-down, stirred, drool escaping his mouth as he strained to open his eyes with no success. ‘Is it morning?’
‘Yes, Master.’
‘Goddess be merciful . . .’ He held his head, which was not responding to his will to be coherent. ‘No drink today,’ he decided. ‘Or any day . . . ever.’ He pushed himself upright, prising his bleary eyes open as a haze hung over his recall.
A wash bowl was held in front of him, and Gwion didn’t hesitate to splash water all over his face. A cloth replaced the bowl and he patted his face awake. ‘Did you say the King is here?’
‘In the atrium, Master.’ Iolo held a hand towards the exit door, which Gwion found most helpful, having yet to find his bearings.
/> ‘Majesty.’ Gwion held his head as he bowed, shielding his eyes from the light.
‘My queen is in a state as she believes the Lady Tegid has cursed her.’ Owain was out with his concerns before Gwion had even managed to get upright.
Gwion rubbed his forehead, consulting his recollection. ‘That was not what happened, I—’
‘You can address your concerns to me directly.’ The Lady Tegid entered the atrium.
‘Oh, dear—’ Gwion was in no fit state to deal with this private reunion; head pounding, he bowed out.
‘Did you curse her?’ Owain faced Creirwy.
‘No, of course not, Ganhumara seems a lovely girl.’ The Lady walked to their breakfast laid out on a table by the pool and poured them all some water. ‘Your brother’s wife is quite another matter.’
Gwion made for the goblet and drank down the water in one swig, then poured himself another.
‘You cursed Meddyf?’ Owain sought clarification.
‘I did not curse anyone.’ She remained very warm and patient with the King. ‘I simply implied that I was not cursed by my family as they assumed. You know how touchy we are when referred to as monsters.’ The Lady Tegid delivered the goblet to the King.
Gwion suspected that his lady had actually been referring to Owain’s curses upon himself, but she seemed to be going to great pains not to mention what she had truly meant. On the day of the King’s wedding, such considerations would only cause more panic. The Lady had the power to end the day’s proceedings and all the King’s hopes for the future with a few well chosen words; Gwion greatly admired that she sought no such revenge.
‘About that.’ Owain accepted the goblet from his hostess. ‘Ganhumara is waiting in a carriage outside; she wishes to—’
‘Splendid,’ Creirwy cut him short. ‘Let her come forth; I have a gift for her. That will surely assure her that she is in our favour.’
Iolo was already at the gate to fetch the young bride, while the Lady Tegid sent Sain to fetch the small chest containing the item in question.
‘This is most unexpected.’ Owain appeared very curious about the box as it was placed upon a stone bench close by them – for it appeared very similar to the chest that the cloak of invisibility had been presented to him in.
This Present Past Page 24