"Bold is he who would harp in the halls of the Shining Folk… But such boldness must be answer of itself. Chaunt, then."
And be damned to me? Well, maybe so, but chaunting was all the answer I knew to make, and answer was clearly called for, and just as clearly was it my turn to reply… I set my fingers to the strings, hooked them to begin, full ready to live or die by what came next to my mind. But even as I drew breath to chaunt the Awen came down upon me; and even as I gave myself up to it with passionate relief, and gratitude that it should deem me still worthy of its inhabitance, I knew joy that it had not forsaken me, though sometimes it had seemed to me that I had forsaken it.
"Bard am I to Arthur,And my homeland is the country of the summer stars.Gwion have I been called, and Mabon;At length all kings shall call me Taliesin.I was with my lord in the heights of heaven,I was with him in the deeps of the sea.I was in the galaxy before the throne of the Distributor,I was at the court of Don before the birth of Gwydion.I know the names of the springs in the heart of Ocean,I know the names of the stars from south to north.On the day of affliction I shall be of more service than a thousand swords,And I shall be until the day of dan upon the face of the earth."
If the silence that had gone before had seemed complete, this that now fell was something so far beyond it as had no name for its totality. But the Awen was not yet done with me; it was upon me like a fever still, I could not feel my body around me, not even my fingertips on the strings of the harp. From the tail of one eye I could just see Arthur, and out of the other Gwyn, but my focus was before me, on Nudd in his crystal throne, who looked impassively upon me.
To me, as he had not to the others, he spoke again.
"Whence came you?"
And again the Awen took my voice to sing:
"I have fled with fearing,I have fled as a fawn;I have fled vehemently,I have fled as a fire.I have fled as a roebuck to a thicket,I have fled as a wolf in the wilderness.I have fled as a mare,I have fled as a salmon;I have fled as a fox,I have fled as a falcon.I have fled as a boar,I have fled as a badger;I have fled as a hare,I have fled as a hen.I have fled as iron in the flame,I have fled as an arrow in the fight.I have fled as a spear-head of woe to such as have the wish for it.No man sees what upholds him, no woman sees what bears her down,But the prayers of Keltdom shall not be in vain, nor the Highest fail of the promise."
And this time as I sang—as the Awen sang me—it was as if Merlynn's magic had taken me once again, taken me out of my everyday body to a far high place from which I might observe and yet remain unseen.
Many things I Saw: Some were plain to my Seeing, others less so,—others still I did not know at all. I Saw holy Brendan and Nia his mother, bringing thirteen Treasures to Keltia in the hold of the Hui Corra; then Brendan was dead, and Nia bringing the Treasures here to Dun Aengus, to her own people,—giving them to Llyr who was king in that time, and he passing them on to Nudd his son, and Nudd passing them on to… Arthur.
I believe I cried out then, but the vision held me fast, I could not fall out of it: And Arthur taking them out of Keltia, to a dusty foreign world, where they lay in fire and silence until one came to claim them again…
The world came back around me with a rush of cold air. I was shaking all over, soaked with sweat, and staring at Nudd as if I were possessed, though glad indeed to be back to reality—even such a reality as this. Morgan and Arthur were holding me up on either side—Frame of Harmony had been taken gently from my hands as I stood rigid and convulsed—and Gwyn was wrapping his own cloak around my shoulders.
I had eyes only for the faerie king. "Is it so?" I heard myself croaking, my voice hoarse from the Awen's demands. "Will it be?"
Nudd looked upon me, and in the darkness of his eyes I saw, amazingly, sorrow. But also exaltation…
"Thou hast Seen it," he said, and then that dark glance moved slowly to Arthur who stood beside me.
Well, I may have Seen it, but apparently no one else had: I stared wildly at Morgan and Arthur in turn, and they looked back with mild wonderment, concerned for my obvious distress, but no more than that. Ah gods, I wondered bitterly, and very privately, why is it that I am the one to See flipping things? Artos has dan from here to evermore, and Morgan more sorcery even than God; I wish only to live a quiet life with my harp and my scribblings and I am the one afflicted with prodigies…
"It is not fair," I muttered, as Arthur lifted me to my feet again. "I never had much Sight, or so Merlynn ever told me—"
"Ah well, who listens to him?" said Arthur cheerfully. But even his smile faded as we all three turned again to face the king.
Nudd had risen from the crystal throne; he was not so scant of stature as I had thought.
"You have Seen aright," he said, though now he spoke in the vernacular, yet even that was of a more archaic cast than that now spoken. He nodded once to Gwyn, and the prince bowed and crossed to a corner of the chamber behind the throne. There he threw back heavy curtains that had shrouded a niche, and, pausing an instant as if in respect or honor, whipped away a richly embroidered cover of red and gold and blue fringed silk.
Beneath the cloth was a chest of carved dark wood, knee-high to a tall man and of the length of a spear; at each end were set worn gold handles of a curious design, and there was a latch, but no lock to it.
At Gwyn's quiet word, two of the faerie lords set their hands to the chest, bearing it with little effort to the foot of the throne and setting it down. As one we all drew back a little, even Birogue, as Nudd descended the three wide-cut steps and paused before the wooden chest.
Even I could see the many years that were on it, the iron-oak black with age, the dust in the deep carvings, the dullness of the gold fittings. In what time, on what world, had the wood for this been cut, the patterns carved, the panels coined? What was held within it, and whose the hand had Placed it there?
Nudd laid his hands palm down on the lid of the carved coffer—a moment only—then withdrew them; and my jaw began to drop as the lid slowly rose of itself, and I do not think I could have looked away had all our lives depended on it.
I could not see what lay within from where I stood, only a corner of yet another piece of rich cloth. But Nudd was beckoning Arthur to come and stand beside him.
"See now the Thirteen Treasures that Brendan brought from afar, that Nia, daughter of our race, brought here to be kept in honor and in safety."
Gwyn knelt to unfold the stiff gleaming cloth—oreadach as I now could see, cloth-of-gold, heavily embroidered with jewels and tiny pearls—and what lay within the chest was revealed for all to see.
"The Spear Birgha," said Gwyn, lifting a slim ashwood shaft bound tightly about with silver silk. One by one he held up the other sacred things that had lain so long in darkness and in waiting: Fragarach, the Sword of Lugh, serpent-hilted and black-scabbarded; the Stone of Fal, a crystal globe securely concealed within a gilded leather covering; Pair Dadeni, the Cup, a silver bowl with pearls round the rim; oh, and more beside, a cloak, a dagger, a helm, a food-wallet, a silver fillet… I was too staggered to take proper inventory just then.
But Nudd was speaking to Arthur. "Take them," said the faerie king. "For they are yours by right."
Arthur stared a long moment at the sacred hallows, not touching any, as if he would learn them by heart and not yet by hand; Morgan and I exchanged a quick thought, both of us suddenly sure of what he would do…
"One thing only will I take," said Arthur then, suiting action to word and setting his hand to the hilt of the Sword. "These others have I yet to win; but this I will take now to help me win them."
"With the holy Cup Uthyr's hurt can be healed, his life be spared," murmured Birogue; and though Arthur's eyes closed briefly at her words, I knew he knew it for the testing that it was, knew too that he would not fail.
"Nay, lady," he said. "That dan is long decided; my uncle the Ard-righ would not wish it other than as it is, or must be, and not for me to choose to change what he has freely accepte
d."
A shiver seemed to pass over those within that hall, unseen quivering like the wind in the leaves of a willowwood; and I saw that this too was dan. Gods, but it ever unhinges me just a little, to see dan's workings made so plain…
Only one more thing remained to be done, and this Arthur now performed: Turning to face Birogue and Gwyn, he gave them words of dismissal, as Merlynn had bidden him; and—again as Merlynn had bidden him—not one word of thanks.
For thus it often is with the Sidhe, that mortals may accept their help, even petition for it, but may not thank them in the end when that help is granted; sometimes, of course, they must be thanked—and there is no rule that holds, by which one may know which time is which.
But, for now at least, our instruction had been plain: Beside me, Morgan sighed to see it done, and I smiled for that we had managed to do it after all.
Yet as we turned to take our leave, Arthur clutching in his hands the gifted Sword, too shy or too awestruck to hang it from his baldric where Llacharn was used to hang, a stir came at the hall's far end, and we halted where we stood, a little uncertain and more than a little unnerved.
Birogue and Gwyn moved to flank us, and behind us on the throne-dais Nudd rose again to his feet, as a woman clad in red came between the lines of bowing lords and curtsying ladies. Tall she was, her eyes greener than Morgan's and her hair redder than Arthur' s; she walked with a regal stride, and in her hands she carried a small folded bundle of what looked like white silk.
She took no note of Arthur nor yet of myself, save for one very sharp, sweeping glance, but stopped in front of Morgan, who curtsied as she would have done in full court before her mother the Queen—and I reflected that even when ritual demanded, Morguenna Pendreic did not readily bend her knee to any.
Seli the queen—for it could be no other in all her world or ours—lifted her glance to Nudd where he sat again upon his throne of crystal.
"I too have somewhat to offer in this matter," she said in a voice that rang like a clear silver bell, in a tone of challenge and defiance that announced merely, not asking leave nor craving permission. Nudd inclined his head to her in acknowledgment and assent, but said no word of answer.
Again Seli looked upon Morgan, who returned the gaze serenely, as was not to be wondered at in one Birogue had trained.
"To you I entrust this," said the Queen of the Aes Sidhe then, "and you shall bear it to Gweniver daughter of Don, for her to use or not as she shall deem."
Morgan accepted the white bundle from Seli's hands bowed her head but did not speak.
"It is called the Bratach Ban, the White Banneret," said Seli. "It was not meant for mortals, when first it was woven but in part by my own folly this evil has come upon Keltia' and I would do what I might to lessen what ills may yet befall. Three times only may it be waved; but each of those wavings will, in dire need, bring help unlooked-for."
I caught my breath, for not until now had I in truth remembered that here before me stood the mother of the Marbh-draoi. Truly, by her folly indeed… Had Seli not fled court and lord and son, to live among mortals and bear Edeyrn to Rhun, Keltia might have been spared the rule of the Marbh-draoi these many years; only by the blood of the Sidhe did he attain to such length of life—had he had a mortal Kelt for mother, we might still have had him as tyrant and ruler, but not for so very, very long a sway of time…
With a start I realized that Seli was regarding me, as if she had kenned or guessed my thought. I bowed hastily, as much in courtly respect as to escape that green stare, not the green of grass or leaf but the green of balefire. Yet I felt the touch of the mind behind the eyes, and it was oddly warm and well-contriving.
"Taliesin ap Gwyddno," she said, and I stiffened to surprised attention; she saw, and smiled for the first time, a smile like spring across a snow-field. "Look not so feared! Your mother was my friend, as she was friend to the Lady Birogue, and dwelled for a time not far from here, among us all. You favor her greatly." She paused for the space of three breaths. "Ask what you would of me, concerning her."
So—it seemed that I too was to be given a gift of the Shining Ones, to take with me from that palace behind the flying waters… And yet, now that I had leave to ask freely, all my questions once so mutely burning seemed but embers only a grieshoch of askings unanswered, and even the need to ask seemed in this time and place a thing unneeded.
"Lady," I heard myself saying, in a voice that seemed not my own, "what you have said is enough for now. I will ask again in time to come, if you allow it."
The green eyes kindled. "There speaks my friend again, in her son's voice… Ask when and where you will, Taliesin of the House of Glyndour; I will hear and answer."
I could think of naught else to do, sufficient to show my respect and my thanks, and so I bent to kiss her hand; but just as my lips began to brush the cool slim fingers there came a whirling round me like a vortex of light, and a roaring in my ears that outshouted even the song of the great water-force without. Then a sick spinning took me and flung me off my feet, and when my sight had cleared again I found myself lying on the grassy bank beside the falls, and Meillion my horse cropping placidly not ten yards away. I shot upright with a cry and an oath.
Arthur and Morgan were sprawled ungracefully beside me, he still clutching Fragarach in both hands. At sight of the weapon I half-turned back to the hidden gate with a cry of dismay, thinking our own swords lost; but they too lay in a shining tangle upon the warm rough grass, the sapphires in the hilt of Morgan's blade burning blue against the sere green.
They sat up with rather more care than I had taken—and for which I was now paying, with the high king of all headaches beginning to pound behind my eyes—and took quick stock of things. Morgan carefully cradled the white banner against her chest, and smiled at me.
"Did you not then think Merlynn's words of warning applied to you as to Arthur and me? Well that our business been concluded before you so misstepped yourself…" When I still looked blankly on her: "You do recall Merlynn telling us that the Sidhe must not be thanked? What were thinking to do, by kissing the hand of the queen, if not thanking her? Thanks indeed, and the grace of the Mother, that the offense was not worse taken, and worse came of it than an overspeedy exit and a pain in the head."
"But—I did not mean to—Well, I did, then," I concluded lamely, sensing rather than seeing Arthur's grin. "My sorrow, cariad, and my mistake: is there great harm done for it?"
Morgan shook her golden head; the three horses, tacked for the journey home, had come ambling over to her, and she was stuffing the faerie flag into one of Nyfer's saddlepacks.
"No great harm, I think, and surely no offense taken," she said, smiling at last. "You did well, though, Talyn, not to ask of your mother just now, though Seli would have told you all you wished to know,—but greater good will come of your delaying your knowing…" She turned to look at Arthur, and I looked where she did.
He had refastened Llacharn in its old place by his side; but the great serpent-hilted Sword he had bound across his saddle-bow. He was not looking at us, but back at the thundering water that hid the gate to the faerie halls. And I wondered, as I watched him, if he regretted the decision he had made beneath the hill: not to take the Treasures Nudd had offered him, but to earn them with the help of Lugh's own weapon.
He must have felt the question in the air, for he swung about to us, and grinned to see us staring.
"You two look like a pair of baby owls in a hollow tree, all eyes and waiting to be fed… Nay, I do not regret my choosing; it was all the choice I could make, and I would choose the same again." He laid a hand hesitantly upon the scab-barded blade, as if he both feared and longed to touch it; as undoubtedly he did, as any would have.
"Where now?" I asked. "Back to the campment?"
Arthur stood silent a moment, his head lifted into the wind, for all the world like Cabal as he quested after a scent.
"Aye," he said at last. "But for a small time only, and to leave the
se precious things with those who are to keep them: the flag to Gweniver, the Sword to Uthyr… until such hour as they are needed and their help must be sought." He grinned again and swung up into Miaren's saddle. "But the look on your face, Talyn, in that one moment when the magic began to spin us from the hall—that was worth being so abruptly cast out, and no mistake about it."
"All one," said Morgan, touching her heel to Nyfer's flank just behind the girth. "We have tarried long enough; careddau, and perhaps too long; let us find a swifter way back than the one we followed here."
She turned Nyfer's head west, and we came after.
* * *
* * *
Chapter Ten
WE FOUND THE CAMP in a new location farther to the east and south, and I could see as we rode up to the outer leaguer that Arthur was not well pleased to find it where we did.
"Little choice, Artos," said Tarian when she met us just outside the leaguer bounds. "The Marbh-draoi sent pursuit three days after you had gone—no captain of any note. But Keils, Gwennach and I thought that, as a move was inevitable, best to move as far as we could without losing touch entirely with the enemy."
Though plainly cross, and not troubling to hide it from of the hundreds who swarmed round to greet us, even Arthur could not fault the military judgment of those he himself had left in command; but he said no word, and we rode into the heart of the camp in stony silence.
Here again he surprised us, for instead of going straight to Uthyr's tent as all had expected, he headed rather for Gweniver's, and rather peremptorily motioned Morgan and me to come with him.
There was no way, short of being suddenly stricken deaf and blind, that Gweniver could be in ignorance of our return—the reception had been loud, joyous and all but universal—but, for all the note she feigned to take of it, she might as well have been. When we came to her tent, she was seated calmly at her field-desk, writing out reports on a small handpad, and looked up with creditable surprise.
The Oak above the Kings Page 11