“What is it?” Owain asked her, although he knew that from that distance, she could not hear his voice.
The old woman just looked on him and then smiled a broad, happy smile that warmed his heart.
“Do I know you?” Owain whispered.
He felt that she answered him, not in words but in a deep sigh. It brushed his tired face like a cool breeze and seemed to fill up his whole being with ease and peace.
And then, as if just a ghost, she turned away and disappeared like a mist into the thickness of the trees.
Owain closed his tired eyes and breathed deeply of the cool wind.
“The Phantom Queen,” he whispered.
Owain breathed in deep of cleansing air. He felt the anguish and pain of nearly eighteen years wash out of him. Now, after all of his guilt and heartache, he thought that his spirit must be wrapped in comfort and security. It was as if he had been dreaming and reliving a horrible nightmare, from which he now awoke and saw the world as it really was. He had born a heavy burden and was now free, released, and at peace.
Chapter Fifty Five: The Other Knowing
Annon’s faint voice at a distant forced Owain to return to the present battle aftermath.
“You live?” the boy cried. “Barbarian!”
Owain looked over to see Annon’s approaching one of the wounded enemy. The Angle warrior was dressed lavishly and lying paralyzed in the dirt. Owain saw at once that the man as Tytmon the Angle king.
“I’ll teach you!” Annon cried.
The boy drew his sword and hacked at the Angle king’s torso. His long sword struck more earth than flesh with every swing, and although King Tytmon's wounds were aggravated, it was clear to Owain that the man was still alive.
“Die!” Annon screamed in frustration. “Die, you miserable barbarian!”
“Annon!” Britu cried in rebuke.
He put up a controlling hand to still the boy’s sword, but Annon swung at him.
“Let me alone!” the boy cried. “Let me alone!”
Britu pulled up his shield to block the beating, and Annon’s sword fell on its bronze boss in rapid motion.
“Annon!” Swale cried. “Stop that!”
Annon struck at him, and Swale caught his swing with his own weapon.
“Go away!” Annon cried.
Owain forced his body to move forward, finding his shaking legs beneath him. He came up behind the boy and linked his arms over the boy’s shoulders. Owain then forced Annon's arms back, holding him fast.
“Let go of me!” Annon screamed. “Let go! Let go! Let go!”
“Swale,” Owain said, his throat still raw, “disarm him.”
Swale used his own sword to hook Annon’s weapon up at its guard and then twisted it from the boy's hand.
“Leave me alone!” Annon screamed. “Give that back!”
“Britu, kill King Tytmon,” Owain said.
“No!” Annon screamed. “He’s mine! You hear me? He’s mine! I’m going to kill him!”
Britu drew his sword and drove it deep into the Angle king’s open mouth.
“Nooooooo!” Annon screamed. “You can’t! You can’t!”
He kicked at the air before him, but Owain’s firm arms held him captive. In spite of his weariness, Owain knew he could not allow Annon to continue in this way, and thus held him secure and would not let go.
“We shall be back for dinner,” Owain said to Swale and Britu.
“Very well, Owain,” Britu said.
“I shall see to the soldiers,” Swale said.
“Good,” Owain replied.
He scooped Annon up as one would a baby and carried him off. Annon screamed and protested, striking at Owain with his bony fists. Owain was relentless, taking him through the piles of dead war ponies, battered armor, and the still corpses of the Angle warriors, and into the woods.
“Let go of me!” Annon screamed. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
Owain sat down on the ground under a wide truncked ash tree and coddled the boy.
“Shh,” he said. “I know. I know.”
“Why did you not kill them all?” Annon cried, and began to weep bitter tears. “You should have them all!”
Owain knew that the boy’s thoughts were not on the Angle they had just vanquished but instead on a battle fought over two years ago in the distant Kingdom of Alt Clut.
“I killed whom I had to kill, Annon,” Owain replied.
“But they were going to eat me!” Annon screamed.
“Shh,” Owain said. “You are safe now, Annon. There are no Attacotti here or anywhere outside of Alt Clut.”
“They were going to eat me!” the boy muttered, again. “They killed everyone, my teacher, my servants, my guards! Then they chained me to a wall! They said they were going to eat me but I was too skinny! They said they would fatten me up!”
“Shh.”
“Why did you not kill them all?”
Owain thought on his entrance into the fortress and seeing young Annon hanging up on the wall. The boy's arms and legs had been bound with chains and his head was limp, but Owain could see that he was very much alive.
Owain remembered how he fought the Attacotti warriors, slaying each one in turn. He thought of how he broke the chains, and Annon fell into his open arms. He remembered the Attacotti children who huddled in the corner, shaking from fear as they looked on Owain, the intruder in their home.
“Shh,” Owain said to Annon. “I killed whom I had to kill and not one more.”
Owain rocked the boy back and forth until he grew quiet.
“I wish I was like you, Prince Owain,” Annon muttered. “I wish I wasn’t afraid of anything.”
“Only fools are afraid of nothing, Annon,” Owain said, with a smile. “But in a few years you shall be a great warrior yourself. And then you shall remember those dark days as a trial that you overcame, and they shall be a nightmare no more.”
Annon laughed through his tears. “I wish they were all gone.”
“You fought bravely,” Owain said. “Now twice. But that does not mean that you know everything. You have much to learn of yourself and only time and experience shall teach you that. Your time with the Attacotti is one such lesson. If it disappeared then you would not learn anything from it.”
Annon thought on this a moment.
“And what about you, Prince?” he asked. “What do you learn from your experiences?”
“Too much!” Owain said with a laugh. “That I must put others first before myself. That the things I thought I needed most were just vain distractions from the pain I felt inside of me. Many, many things.”
Annon was quiet once more, and Owain began to think of the most resent battle and what he had gained from it.
When Owain and Annon entered the meeting tent, Swale, Britu, King Vendi, and Lady Rhian grew quiet.
Annon stared at his feet and cleared his throat.
“Prince Swale and Prince Britu,” he said, “I have behaved badly towards you and I apologize.”
“Thank you, Annon,” they replied.
“You are not angry with me?” the boy asked.
“No, of course not,” Britu said. “It was your second battle.”
“I can recall my second battle,” King Vindi said, with a laugh. “My first battle, my uncle watched over me and saw that I was never in any danger. But my second, I was on my own, and nearly died a dozen times. At the end of it, I just stood there and wept like a little child.”
“End of my first battle,” Swale said, “I was so upset, I ran back to my tent and hid under my cot. King Irael had to coax me out.”
Lady Rhian laughed as well. “I did that,” she said. “Two weeks after I was made Warrioress of Ebrauc, one of the queens goes and murders her daughter. It was the first time I had to execute someone. I was so horrified, and my father was so embarrassed by me. I did not think that was fair.”
“Parents can be that way,” Britu said, bitterly. “What was supposed to be my fir
st battle, I did not even get to fight in. We were trailing the Gewissae and perhaps one mile before we were to reach the Town of Hol, we found this girl. She was maybe eleven or twelve, and beaten and twisted up, as if her bones were all broken, and her head is twisted the other way. I had seen so much carnage that day, I went sick. Just started to vomit and could not stop. The general had to go on without me, which I sure he preferred. He thought I was an utter nuisance. But you would not believe the earful I received from my father.”
They laughed over their experiences.
“But now we must eat,” Lady Rhian said. “King Vindi has prepared for us a generous feast.”
“Ie, Ie,” King Vindi said, and he called to the servants, “Bring in the hart!”
“And a drink to Owain Prince of Glouia and Dominae of the Army of Albion,” Swale said.
“May you live long and win many more battles,” King Vindi said.
The servants poured the wine, and the company drank until their cups were emptied.
“Thank you, Friends,” Owain replied. “I do wonder how long I shall continue fighting.”
“What do you mean by that?” Britu asked.
Owain looked on them with new, clear eyes. He did not use to reveal his feelings to them, for his words of his impending death to Annon a year before had been the first time he had confided in any of them. But he felt that as a new being, he could speak openly, even with King Vindi in their presence.
“I have considered retiring,” Owain said.
“What?” Swale cried.
“But you are six and twenty,” King Vindi said. “Why retire now?”
“I have always been moving about from one place to another, with no more than a week at home before I'm called away on another quest,” Owain replied. “When my father offered to abdicate his position and make me King of Glouia, I thought I was not ready to stay in one place and rule as a king. I wanted to return to the Army and fight battles throughout Albion as I had done before. But now, being gone from Glouia all this time, I began to think I would rather stay there and give up the Army. I began to think it is my time to be done. There is also another matter.”
“But who would take your place?” Annon asked.
“Not I,” Swale said, with defensive up lifted hands. “Even temporarily, when we thought you were dead, was too much for me.”
“Choosing my replacement would be a task for the Elder King,” Owain said, “Cynan King of Venedotia. I would relinquish the Army to him.”
“But any replacement would not be a dominae,” Lady Rhian said, “for only the emperor can make such an appointment.”
“Ie, that is true,” the king said. “And I am quite sure he shall never return to Albion.”
“My replacement would be called the General then,” Owain said, with a smile. “But he would have the power over the Army just the same.”
“I hope you do not leave us, Owain,” Britu said, downcast.
“I have not made up my mind, Cousin,” Owain replied.
“Well, Dominae,” King Vindi said, with resolve, “if that is to be your last battle, it was surely a victory worthy of the legends.”
“Thank you, King,” Owain replied.
They ate and talked for hours until Owain went to his own tent, putting the exhausting day behind him.
On the return journey, Swale, Britu, and Annon together congregated around Owain as they rode.
“Well?” Britu said.
Owain caught the impatient ring in his cousin's voice.
“What?” Owain replied, amused.
“You said there was another matter, another reason for your retiring,” Swale said.
“We need to know what it is,” Britu said.
“You must tell us, Prince,” Annon said.
“Ah,” Owain said, with a smile.
“We are your friends,” Britu said. “And King Vindi is not here, so you can have no qualms with telling us.”
“Of course,” Owain replied, but pain over the memories crossed his eyes. “Do you remember when the Roman dominae, Stilicho, was reorganizing the defenses all over Albion?”
“He did?” said Annon with a frown.
“You were not yet born,” Swale said to the boy. “What of it, Owain?”
“You know that he gave the authority over the Three Cities, Caer Gloui, Ceri, and Baddan, to my father,” Owain replied. “But one of the lords in Glouia wanted the authority for himself. He challenged my father and got many other lords to side with him. They fought a huge battle over it.”
“What happened?” Annon asked.
“My father of course won, and the lord went into hiding,” Owain said. “He lost his land and position and wanted revenge.”
Britu and Swale were quiet and hung their heads, remembering the sad end to the story.
“One day, I was training with my teacher in a field outside the Caer Corin,” Owain’s voice went steadily on. “It was a fine day, and my mother and some of her servant women came out with us. This lord, this upstart arrived, his purpose to kill me and thus gain his revenge on my father.”
Owain took a deep breath, remembering each event as if it happened again before his eyes, his mother’s command to flee, the panicked screams of the women, his teacher’s blood flying in every direction.
“My teacher fought him and was slain,” he said. “And so my mother intervened. She stepped between the lord and myself in order to shield me from him. She had never had to fight anyone and yet she stabbed him in the arm with her knife. He struck her down, and her body opened up. I could see her organs fall out. She never moved again.”
“He murdered her?” Annon cried. “But she was a queen!”
“He wanted blood,” Owain replied. “Not even fear of the goddess Arianrhod would stop his rage.”
“What did you do?”
For a moment Owain was silent, as the images continued to cycle through his mind.
“I cut him into a thousand pieces,” he said.
They rode on in silence, Annon too stunned to speak, and Swale and Britu too grieved.
The cool spring wind rushed through the oak trees all around them. As it brushed Owain’s face, it reminded him of his vision, and his mother's words to him, and the message he carriage away from them. No more conflict with himself. Indeed, he had never realized before, but he had been at war with his own being since that day nearly eighteen years ago. After that, he had struggled to demonstrate his worth, if only to himself, that he might believe that his mother approved of him.
Britu cleared his husky voice. “But what does that have to do with your retirement?” he asked.
Owain gave a hoarse laughed.
“You shall mock me for it,” he said. “But I shall tell you all the same. There was an old woman watching the battle. I do not know if it was a human woman or a vision. When it was over, I saw the look of tranquility on her face. And somehow I knew that my mother had seen my struggles, all of my battles, each time I risked myself for the people of this land. I knew that she had witnessed everything and has released me from my debt to her. The debt I owed to her for giving up her life for me. I know that my mother is at peace and that she wishes for me to be as well.”
Britu was visibly amazed but said nothing.
“I am corrected, Owain,” Swale said with a solemn nod of his head. “For surely you do have the Other Knowing.”
Owain smiled at the thought.
“Sometimes, it is simply known,” he replied.
Chapter Fifty Six: Resolution
As they traveled, Owain traced his steps back south, visiting his clansmen in the Kingdom of Lerion, and leaving Britu in the Kingdom of Atrebat.
The changes were that young Annon now accompanied him, along with the entirety of the Army, and that he chose to make a detour away from the main highway when they left Atrebat, for he remembered that he still had important business to attend to in Anlofton.
Owain, Annon, and a few knights with them took the solitary road,
and Owain observed that this was the same route that Swale had brought his knights through towards the quiet village but thirteen months before.
“Where are we going?” Annon asked.
“We have crossed into Gewisland,” Owain replied. “I must do something here, but first a visit.”
“In Tiw?”
“In Anlof.”
“Really?” the boy was shocked. “Who would you visit in Anlof?”
“Leola’s aunt,” Owain replied.
Annon stared at him. “You are going to visit a commoner?” he said, baffled.
“I am,” Owain said.
“Why?” the boy asked.
“To see if they are well.”
Annon moved as if to ask why once more but seemed to change his mind and was silent.
“Here,” Owain said. “This must be it.”
They came to head of the village, where the round dirt huts and gardens nestle around the road. Owain saw the Saxon great hall to one side, but passed this by without a second glance.
The whole village was quiet and serene, with only a few women and children about, in the gardens and the street. But they scurried away when they saw Owain’s party approach. Here and there a cautious eye glanced out from the window of one of the huts or from behind the fences. Yet these ducked back again, hiding from view.
Owain saw them and did not worry of it, but he realized that Annon was on edge.
“Peace, Annon,” Owain said.
“I don’t like it here,” Annon whispered. “It is a village of ghosts.”
“Let them be,” Owain replied. “They have far more reason to fear you then you do them.”
Annon did not seem convinced.
“I never told anyone this, Annon,” Owain said, “but when I heard that you were abducted by the Attacotti, I believed you to be already dead.”
“What?” the boy cried. “Why?”
“Because when the Attacotti take a man, he dies not so much from his wounds as he does from pure fear.”
Annon thought on this. “But why did you rescue me if you thought that I was already dead?” he asked. “Why risk yourself for... nothing?”
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