“You speak often of truth,” remarked Charis. “Is this god of yours so interested in truth?”
“In truth, yes; but in love as well.”
“Love?”
“Oh, yes. In love most of all.”
“A strange god then. And often disappointed, I should think.”
“I do not wonder that it seems strange to you. For so it seemed to me when I first heard it. But I have studied long on it and have in time come to be convinced of it. More, I have learned the truth of it for myself and now cannot be persuaded otherwise-no matter what may befall me.” He looked at Charis frankly and said, “What god do you worship or sacrifice to?”
“None whatsoever,” snapped Charis with sudden vehemence. She recoiled from the sound of her own voice and said more softly, “Once I Believed in Bel, the supreme god of our people. But he proved himself a false and unworthy god, allowing destruction to come upon his race; so now I neither serve nor worship any god at all.”
“Well said! I was myself like that once-until Jesu found me.” Charis could almost feel the eagerness and enthusiasm bubbling inside this strange priest-so unlike the jaded priests of Bel. “That is how he is! He reaches out; he draws men to him. He is the Good Shepherd who searches in the wilderness for his lost sheep, never resting until he gathers them to his fold.”
They talked a little longer and then Charis rose and said, “I must go now. If you intend staying in this place, you must ask my father’s permission.”
“We will do whatever is required,” answered Dafyd.
Charis moved to the doorway, then hesitated, thinking that perhaps she had dismissed the priest too abruptly. “Dine with us tonight; you can ask him then.”
Dafyd held up his hands in protest. “Please, we do not seek to exalt ourselves. Rather, allow us to remain here and eat the provisions we have brought with us.”
“You may not remain here until you have the king’s permission to do so, and my father will be most overwrought to learn that I have not extended the generosity of his house to you. If you refuse me, he may even come here himself to fetch you.”
At this, the holy man relented. “That would never do! We are servants of all men, kings and beggars alike. It shall be as you say.”
“Then follow me,” said Charis, “I will take you there at once.”
The place of Avallach was like nothing either of the holy men had ever seen: outside it was built on an imposing scale, while inside it was all smooth, polished stone-slender columns supporting delicate arches and high vaulted ceilings; intricate tOe floors and inlaid with mosaics and richly painted walls, detailing fabulous scenes of an otherworldly water paradise. And everywhere they looked there were tall graceful beings, men and women of beauty unrivaled.
Collen took one look at the stablehands who led their horses away and whispered to Dafyd, “Truly these are the Faery! There can be no doubt.”
“Nay, brother, they are mortals like as we.”
Collen rolled his eyes. “Mortals they may be but never like us.” He inclined his head toward the youth leading their horses away. “Why, look-the lowest stablehand is arrayed more richly than any Gaulish king!”
Charis had led them inside where, despite their best efforts, they stared unashamedly at all they saw and could not keep themselves from remarking at each new thing. She brought them into the great hall with its canopied litter of scarlet samite on which Avallach rested.
“Father,” said Charis drawing near, “I have brought visitors.”
The king raised himself on an elbow and looked with interest at his two guests. They saw a handsome man who despite the deathly pallor of his skin appeared in full possession of his faculties. A rich black mane of hair curled to his shoulders, his beard spread over his chest in perfumed coils. He was dressed in a spotless white tunic over white trousers, with a wide leather Belt of silver scales, each the size of a plate and inlaid with costly lapis lazuli. His vest was emerald green, embroidered with gold thread in the most amazing designs.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and full, like the voice of a god from the sea. “Welcome, friends, whoever you may be.”
Both men bowed humbly. Collen’s mouth hung slightly open.
Dafyd gathered his wits and replied, “Greetings to you in the name of our Lord and Master.”
“Who might your master be?” asked Avallach.
“He is Jesu, called the Christ.”
“Remember me to your Christ when you come again into his realm.”
“His realm is large, lord,” replied Dafyd. “Those who know him call him King of kings.”
Avallach nodded, his brow lowering in a frown. Charis spoke up. “This Jesu is a god, Father. And these men are his priests.”
“Priests!” Avallach laughed. “Welcome, priests. I trust your god does not begrudge you meat and drink?”
“No, lord,” replied Dafyd. “He does not.”
“Then allow my seneschal to find chambers for you where you may wash and renew yourselves. Join rne at my table when you are refreshed.” He raised a hand and a servant appeared. The two men bowed and fell into step behind their guide and were ushered from the room.
“Where did you find them?” Avallach asked as the doors closed on the hall once more.
“They found me, Father,” replied Charis, “at the ruin I sometimes visit. These men came looking for it, saying it is a shrine to their god. They thought me a goddess.” She laughed.
“Ah, that is very good.” Avallach lifted his dark eyebrows. “I am in need of cheering.”
“Are you in pain?” Charis bent near, placing her hand to his side.
He patted her hand. “It is not beyond bearing,” he said. “No, I am feeling better. I will be back on my feet again in a day or two. Now send word to the kitchen that we have guests. It would not do to slight two such important emissaries.”
CHAPTER TWO
Winter had been hard, the spring cold and rainy. Summer saw little improvement; crops did poorly, although the grazing was good and the cattle grew sleek and fat. As autumn drew near the winds grew bitter, heralding another bad winter hard on the heels of the last, for in the bleak north a storm was gathering which few in the southlands foresaw.
Elphin returned early from riding the Wall, anxious and ill-at-ease. Taliesin had not ridden with him this year. Instead, he had spent the summer with Blaise, helping Hafgan instruct a small but lively crowd of noblemen’s sons from around the region. When the warband, now grown to nearly three hundred of the best fighting men in all Gwynedd, came clattering into Caer Dyvi, Taliesin and his charges stood out on the road before the gates with the rest of the village to greet them.
He took one look at his father’s tight smile and the way he sat tense in the saddle and knew that something was wrong- although with the usual celebration of the warriors’ return, it was some time before Taliesin could discover what bothered the king.
“What is it?” he asked when he finally got Elphin aside for a private word. He lifted the jar and poured two drinking horns full with sweet mead and handed one to his father.
Elphin smiled thinly. “Am I as glass to one and all, then?”
“Not to one and all perhaps, but certainly to me.” Taliesin raised his cup. “Health to you, Father.” They drank deeply and wiped their mustaches with the back of their hands. “What happened up there this summer?” Taliesin asked.
“Little enough. We saw only three wandering bands all summer.” The king shrugged and peered into his drink again.
“And yet?”
Laughter pattered through the open doorway of the hall across the way where the feast was just beginning. “And yet there is a heaviness of heart that the wise counsel of my advisors can neither reason away nor lighten.”
“What troubles you?”
The king raised a hand and pressed the palm over his heart. “My own wise counselor tells me that there is dire wickedness afoot. Oh, it is quiet north of the Wall; there was no trouble. But I think it is because
they are waiting, and avoiding us while they wait.”
“Have you spoken to Maximus about it?”
“I tried. We passed by Caer Seiont on our return, but he had gone oflf to Londinium again. Romans! If only they would fight the Picti and Attacotti as eagerly as they kill each other.” Elphin sighed. “Not that it matters. There are few enough legionaries left-five hundred at Luguvallium, not many more at Eboracum and Deva. Fullofaudes commands the Wall now, and he is vigilant, I give him that. But he trusts his scouts too much. Scouts, did I say? The cutthroats are little better than the vermin they are hired out to keep an eye on.”
“You could go to Londinium,” suggested Taliesin. “I would go with you, and some of your chiefs. We could speak to the legate.”
“I would climb back in that accursed saddle at once if I thought it would do any good. The legate believes that the southeast is more vulnerable. What men he has are put to work building forts along the southern coast, all to defend against a few fishing boats full of Saecsens-and this after the massacre in the north.”
“That was seven years ago, Father,” offered Taliesin gently.
Elphin considered this. He smiled slowly and shook his head. “So it was. But the same’ will happen again, maybe worse. It is beginning, Taliesin-the Dark Time. It seems I have been waiting half my life, but I swear I have never seen a darker time than this. I think Maximus realizes it as well and that is why he has gone to Londinium-to try to make them listen. They cannot bleed us dry up here and expect protection in the south.”
“What will you do?”
“What is there to do but look to our own defense?”
Taliesin remained silent. He had rarely seen his father so profoundly disturbed-angry yes, foaming with rage at the shortsighted stupidity of the emperor and governors and legion commanders, especially following the dreadful massacre of seven summers ago. But now Elphin, staunchest and most loyal of subjects, had all but abandoned the Roman leaders; this was new, and this concerned Taliesin.
Bit by bit he had seen it coming as each passing year increased the distance between the Cymry and their Roman protectors. The people were gradually returning to the old ways, the ways of their Briton ancestors.
“The Celt will live again,” said Taliesin.
“Eh?”
“It is just something Hafgan said. A prophecy which I fear is coming true.”
“Aye, too true. I wish Gwyddno were here,” said Elphin gloomily. “I miss him.” He raised his horn. “To strong arms, sharp iron, and fleet horses!” He downed the mead in a gulp. “Now let us join the merrymaking. We both know this could well be the last we see for a long, long time. And bring your harp, son. I have missed your singing these last months.”
Rhonwyn entered the house then and met them as they rose from the board. “Your people are asking for you, husband.”
“Let them go on asking,” Elphin said, wrapping his wife in a fierce bear hug. “I mean to have you first.”
“Go on with you, man!” exclaimed Rhonwyn, struggling in his embrace. But not, Taliesin noticed, struggling enough to free herself. “There will be time enough for making love.”
Elphin grinned. “That is where you are wrong, woman. There is never enough time for lovemaking. We must take it when we can.” He planted a great kiss on her lips, which she returned with passion.
“Ah, Taliesin lad, find yourself a lusty wife and you will be happy all your life.”
“Words to live by, Father,” laughed Taliesin.
“Just love her as much as you can,” said Rhonwyn, pulling Elphin toward the door, his arm still around her waist, “and you will never want for a happy home.”
They joined the celebration, which lasted two days. In this Elphin proved himself something of a prophet, for it was the last feast that year and for several years to corne. And for far too many, the last they were ever to see.
The golden days of autumn fell away one by one and the land prepared for its winter rest. Hafgan, upright and erect as ever, gray eyes still sharp as a hawk’s-although his long hair now showed more silver than brown-sat before his hut, watching a long, thin wisp of smoke float into a cool azure sky. He studied for a long time as the smoke braided and curled and flattened on the upper wind. At last he gathered his blue robe about him and hurried to Elphin’s hall.
“Fetch your lord,” he told a young warrior lolling before the door.
The young man pulled on his mustache, so Hafgan drew back and gave him a quick kick on the shin. The warrior nearly toppled to the ground. “Be quick with you,” the druid said.
A moment later Elphin was standing before his chief counselor blinking in the light and saying, “A bit early for kicking the hirelings, is it not, Hafgan?”
“Too late, more like.”
“What is it, then? What have you seen?”
“They are coming.”
“Picti?”
“From today we will no longer speak of Irish, Picti or Saecsen but of barbarian.”
“Do you mean to say they are all coming?”
“Why look so surprised? Have you not yourself often spoken of the coming darkness?”
“I had hoped for a few more years,” Elphin confessed.
“One year or another, one season more or less, what difference? Take the day as it comes, Elphin.”
“Do you see victory for us?”
“Better to ask your son. He sees these things much clearer than I.”
“I have not seen Taliesin for three days! Where is he when we need him?”
“He will be where he is needed most.”
A little while later, as the warband prepared to ride out again, they heard the iron ring out from the council oak.
Elphin and his closest advisors-Cuall, Redynvar, and Her-idd-hurried to the tree, where Taliesin waited, the iron striker in his hand. “I would have come to you, but there is no time to lose,” the young man explained. “Irish ships have been sighted looking for landfall Below M6n. Raiding parties have pushed as far south as Dubr Duiu. Diganhwy is under seige.”
Taliesin half-expected his father to react in the way of Celtic battielords of old-with quick anger and white-hot rage. Instead, the king was cool and decisive. “How many ships?” he asked.
“Thirty at least. Maybe more. Those that have landed were painted the color of the sea-hull, sails, and masts-to better hide among the waves. It was difficult to count them.”
“That is easily a thousand men!” exclaimed Heridd.
Cuall, already buckling on his leather breastplate, observed dryly, “Their thousand to our three hundred-why, they only want two thousand more to make it a fair fight!”
“Do we take them on the shore or let them come to us?” wondered Redynvar.
“If they mean to have this land, let them come and take it from us,” replied Heridd.
“No,” replied Elphin firmly. “That may do for us, but there are many small holdings and settlements that look to us for protection. We will meet them where they come ashore. We ride at once.” He had no need to say more. So well schooled were his men in the ways of war, their commander’s word silenced all discussion.
Hafgan arrived as the commanders dashed away to their various chores. Elphin lingered with the bards. “Do you see victory for us, son?”
Taliesin frowned. “I see much death and pain on both sides. Victory? Father, I tell you the truth, the man is not alive who will see this fight ended, let alone won.”
Elphin tightened his Belt. “Then it is best to begin it rightly and give those who come after an example they will never forget. Will you ride with us?”
“I would ride with you even if you had not asked me,” said Taliesin.
“But I will not,” remarked Hafgan. “I am too old. Let me rather support my lord in imprecations against the enemy.”
“Do that,” said Elphin, flashing a malicious grin. “And let the whole stinking pack save themselves if they can!”
There were hurried farewells throughout
the caer and the warband rode out. They galloped north in three columns along the coast searching for ships on the horizon, or already beached. They saw none until late in the afternoon when the sun was already sinking toward twilight. One of Elphin’s scouts returned to the lead column with the news: “Boats, lord, twenty by count. Still far out. They do not appear to be coming in.”
“It is late. No doubt they are waiting to slip in under cover of darkness,” said Cuall.
“Where is the likeliest landing?” asked Elphin.
“A sandy cove lies not two miles north of here. I think they might make for that,” the scout answered.
“I know the place. We wait for them there, then. Take two men with you and ride to Caer Seiont. Tell the tribune we will engage the enemy here and join the legion as soon as possible.”
The scout acknowledged his orders with a Roman salute, and a moment later three men rode off. The three columns moved off to establish themselves in strategic positions around the cove and to wait for nightfall and the landing of the enemy.
The early hours of the night passed uneventfully. Elphin’s warband watched and waited quietly. They ate cold rations and slept in their armor, their weapons at hand. On the sea there was no movement, although the late-rising moon revealed that the raiders were there, sitting off the coast.
“What are they waiting for?” wondered Cuall. He and Elphin were huddled together on a rocky outcrop overlooking the sea, well above the beach. It had just passed midnight and still the boats had not moved.
“Look to the northern sky,” said a voice behind them.
“Ah, Taliesin, you join us,” said Cuall. “To the north, you say? What is to the north? I see nothing.”
“That bank of cloud-you can see the lower edge as a thin line in the moonlight. Just there above the water. They are waiting for complete darkness.”
“And they will get it,” snorted Elphin. “By Lieu, they show a canny streak! When did they get so smart?”
“You have taught them, Father. You and the Romans. They know that word of the raid has spread by now and that they will likely be met. So they wait and nurse their strength.”
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