To Carry the Horn

by Karen Myers

  “I don’t understand,” George said.

  “The way entrance they used was in the correct spot, and the token activated it, but it was a false way, one that had been overlaid on the real one just a few feet in front, and they were sent with all their companions to a place unknown. Some of the group had traveled with them just to see them off, and it’s by their accounts we know what happened.”

  “Gwyn was brought in to look at the situation, and I helped him, as best I could at the time. The invitation enclosing the way-token was shown to be false. When we tried to find the false way, it was gone or hidden.”

  “No wonder Gwyn didn’t want to linger on the other side of the way at Daear Llosg.”

  “Right. He didn’t want to spring a similar trap.”

  “So, were they killed?” George asked.

  “No one knows for sure. None of them have been seen again, and we must assume the worst since if they were being held merely as hostages we would’ve heard by now. Edern put a steward in charge of his son’s estate to hold it for Rhys, but he couldn’t leave the children there, subject to some other hostile act, and he wanted to devote himself to pursuing the villains who had attacked his family. So Gwyn offered to foster them.”

  “Is that what usually happens to orphans?”

  “Yes, but there’s more to it than that. This was no random attack but the act of an enemy who took time and care with the plot and had special abilities with the ways that are unfamiliar to us. Enemies we have in plenty, but Rhys ab Edern was too young for it, so they must be enemies of Edern or his close kin. None of those, so far as we know, could have made that way-trap. The best speculation I’ve heard runs that this was an old enemy allied with a new or hidden power, whose trap only partially succeeded.”

  “And everyone’s lived with that uncertainty for twelve years?”

  “Yes, and they’re now very alarmed at recent events, of hidden ways with unknown owners, of sneak attacks on Gwyn, of tunnels through our palisade, and, most of all, of the mysterious death of our huntsman, preceded as now seems clear by successful attempts to weaken our ability to conduct the great hunt that go back twenty years or more.”

  “So you think it’s all connected,” George said.

  “Wouldn’t you? I have my own partial theory. I think the only person who seeks the failure of the great hunt is Gwythyr ap Greidawl, for the ancient grudge. I think he must be behind the loss of Islwyn and Merfyn, beginning twenty years ago. I’m less sure, but I suspect he was also behind the attack on Rhys ab Edern and his family twelve years ago, since there was no one accessible to him in Gwyn’s direct line equally vulnerable, and he hates us all. But I don’t know where the way knowledge is coming from, I can’t see how the murder of Iolo was managed, and there are just too many loose ends. I could suspect Creiddylad of almost anything, but not of working in combination with Gwythyr who repudiated her, nor is she skilled in these areas.”

  “Someone told me Edern isn’t usually here, that he was probably called. What about you? Would you normally come back at this time of year or were you summoned?”

  “Gwyn called me to come immediately. I believe he sent an urgent summons to Edern, too. Edern hasn’t been here for years, and I was surprised to see him. Perhaps he senses the hand of whomever killed his son, and wants to be in on the fight. If anything, he’s more suspicious of Creiddylad than I am, blaming her for whatever plot resulted in the loss of his son.”

  They had lingered outside the kennel gates for this conversation, for privacy. George saw Rhys and Rhian headed their way, with Brynach, and tapped Rhodri on the shoulder to call his attention to it.

  He turned to wave at the others and opened the gate for them all.

  There were so many people in the huntsman’s office for the evening meeting before a hunt that Ives and Benitoe had to bring in additional chairs of their own. Alun, with excellent forethought, had supplied sufficient mugs and beer to get them started.

  George began with introductions. “Ives, Benitoe—you may have missed the news that I’ve just accepted Brynach here as an apprentice for learning about hunting with hounds.” Brynach smiled shyly at them across the room. “This raises interesting questions about everyone’s status, and I wanted to sort that out first.”

  He continued, “This will be old hat to some of you, and please correct me if I’m suggesting something that doesn’t sound right or proper, since I don’t know what you’re all accustomed to. Just bear with me.

  “First, Ives is kennel-master. His word is law here in kennels, and you’d be well advised to heed it anywhere else, too. Doesn’t matter if it’s ‘your job’ or not. We all in agreement about that?”

  Heads nodded all around.

  “Alright, then. Rhodri has graduated from this particular school and doesn’t count.” Rhodri took a comic bow and Rhys found something to throw at him, which he ducked.

  “Rhys, like Rhodri before him, is going through an accelerated course of exposure which will be followed by some other form of learning altogether, all of this to fit him for rule. Or so I understand.”

  “That’s right,” Rhys said. “I’ve been whipping-in under Iolo for two years, and this great hunt was to be my last. Next will be history and politics under Ceridwen and my foster-father, and my outdoor work will all be related to farming.” This last with a grimace.

  “Now, Benitoe. You’ve joined as what I would call a professional, someone who makes his living at this. You have some experience, will be learning more, and expect to stay for the long-term. That’s not an obligation on your part, just an assumption on mine. Do I describe rightly?”

  “Yes, that’s how I see it, too. Just as Ives is a professional.”

  “Alright. Rhian, now, is what I would describe as an amateur, someone who doesn’t currently make their living at this, though that could change. She is, in any case, not of age to make that decision. Our newest member, Brynach, falls into that same category, but he’s an official apprentice. The only difference in status that I see between Rhys, Rhian, and Brynach is that the first two are amateurs who are not apprentices because they have additional obligations and may be short-timers, whereas Brynach will be treating this as his primary responsibility for some time. Correct?”

  Rhian objected, “This is my primary responsibility, too.”

  “Agreed, but like Rhys you’ll probably have a series of temporary roles to fit you for estate or domain rule, not so? In which case, this is just the current one and I should expect to either lose you later, in this role, or for you perhaps to make a different decision when you’re of age.”

  “I suppose so,” she said.

  “Alright, then. Here’s what I intend. Rhys and Benitoe, you’re free to participate or not, as you choose, but I encourage you to come. Starting next week, I’ll begin a course of study for Rhian and Brynach. It will include reading and discussion, kennel management and hound maintenance, hound management and hunting, and breeding and training. Since so much of this will be practical rather than theoretical, I want to see all of you at the meets, doubled up as appropriate. For now, that means Rhian with me and Brynach with Benitoe. We’ll change that around sometimes.”

  Rhian asked, “What will happen after the great hunt… ?” She stopped, awkwardly.

  “You mean, when I leave?”

  She nodded.

  “None of that’s been decided for sure. If I must go back, I’ll urge the continuation of this with my successor. For now, let’s just assume it’s permanent.”

  He looked at each of them with emphasis. “One more thing. As you all must realize by now, we have enemies among us. Iolo’s dead and more attacks are threatened, aimed at disrupting the great hunt anyway they can. All of you will take basic training with Hadyn for self-defense and become comfortable with some weapon you can carry with you while hunting. I won’t have anyone harmed for loss of a knife at the right moment or reluctance to use it. Are we clear on this?”

  Rhian and Brynach nodd
ed.

  “Starting immediately, mind.” Looking around the room, he tried to make them see the importance of this. “We’re a team and must train like one and act like one, helping each other with our tasks and prepared to handle emergencies together. I won’t insist that you travel in pairs everywhere, but at least consider it when you go to the village.”

  This time, everyone nodded.

  “Alright, then, let’s work on the plan for tomorrow.”

  George pulled Brynach aside before he left and spoke to him about ordering livery from Mostyn. “You can go down tomorrow when Rhian or Benitoe go in for their second fitting. See them to set it up.”

  George dropped in on Ceridwen before turning in. “I was glad when you asked for this meeting today,” she said as she came to the green door of her house. “We have much to discuss.”

  They made themselves comfortable in the deep armchairs in the study George had seen on his last visit, and Ceridwen began.

  “You asked about some of the investigations I’ve been doing for Gwyn. You remember the parchment note that came with Iolo’s hands?”

  “Yes. I thought it might be a palimpsest.”

  “You were right—older writing was scraped off for this scrap. The topic wasn’t relevant, and I couldn’t identify any obvious source, but the word choice and spelling was more old country than local, for a few words that have changed over the centuries.”

  “Doesn’t that match what you thought about the words on the spell-stick?”

  “Yes, it’s consistent. Along with the hempen twine, all three items point to an old country source, not one of our own,” she said. “Or else it’s very clever misdirection.”

  He stared into the fire for a moment, the lamp light making visible rays from the traces of smoke and dust in the air.

  “Weren’t you going to be taking a look at the hole in the palisade, with Creiddylad?” he asked.

  “Yes, and wasn’t that interesting. You know, she grew the palisade herself, when first we came here? That’s the area her skill lies in, plants and herbs.”

  “Idris told me the story.”

  “I had the hardest time getting her to come with me but finally, yesterday, we approached it from the outside and, I hope, in secret. I think it shocked her.” She picked up a small wooden bear from the low table between them and toyed with it.

  “You’ve seen me eating with her at meals?”

  He nodded.

  “It doesn’t do much for my appetite, but someone has to stay close to her and try to monitor her activities. I don’t trust that Madog fellow, never have. One benefit of my spoiled meals is that she really can’t deceive me well. All of this to say that I don’t think she expected the damage at the palisade. I won’t say she didn’t expect something—after all, we told her about it—but I’m sure she didn’t anticipate such a poisoned tunnel as we found. She wanted to try and heal it, on the spot, but I persuaded her to leave it alone for a while.”

  “Do you think she can heal it?”

  “Surely. She built it in the first place and the damage doesn’t seem to be spreading.”

  “Has anything tripped the alarms at the small hidden way?” He waved his hand to the west.

  “Only wild animals, so far. The clearing shows no other sign of use, and the way you sealed at Daear Llosg is undisturbed, as near as I can tell.”

  Ceridwen rose and walked to the door, bidding a servant to bring some tea.

  George said, as she came back, “Thanks for bringing me up to date.” He leaned forward in his chair. “But now I need to hear about the rest of the theories and actions that only the people in the inner circle know, which must remain secret from Creiddylad, since she’s suspected of being involved in some way.”

  “Besides her,” he continued, “I’m finding out more and more about the events of twenty or more years ago with Iolo’s staff, with Merfyn, Islwyn, and the coming of Owen. Add to this the mystery surrounding the death of Rhys and Rhian’s parents that Rhodri told me of, and I find it hard to think it’s all coincidence.”

  “Yes, I see enemy action as well,” Ceridwen said, “and so do Gwyn and Edern.”

  “And Angharad, who told me some of the history. I presume many others have suspicions.”

  The tea arrived and in a few moments, George was leaning back comfortably in his chair with a hot mug, and Ceridwen had put hers aside so that she could gesture while she talked.

  “Let me tell you a tale,” Ceridwen said, “and we’ll see if we can build a framework that can bear the weight of our suspicions.”

  George settled in to listen as she set the stage.

  “About twenty years ago, the hunt staff for the great hunt were thus: Iolo, Rhodri, Merfyn, and Islwyn. Rhodri was the youngest, having just joined for the limited traditional training of a scion of the house. Merfyn, about your age at the time, was the son of Ithel, from Gwyn’s father’s court. He intended to stay indefinitely, having been given leave to do so in order to help his father build kennels and maintain a hunt when he returned. At that time, he had been working for Iolo, oh, about ten years.”

  “Twelve. I’ve been reading Iolo’s hunt logs and personal journal.”

  “Ah. The third whipper-in was Islwyn, Iolo’s great-great-grandson, the youngest of his current descendants. He was a rising master, then in his twenties, and had been working with Iolo for about six years.” She looked at George, who nodded to confirm the dates.

  “Islwyn looked to become another huntsman under Iolo, with excellent control over horses and hounds, and growing experience with the cunning of the wild beasts in the field. He lived with Iolo. I hadn’t seen him so happy in a great many long years.”

  She paused to take a sip of her tea. “Rhian may be another such as Islwyn. It’s too soon to know.”

  “This is how it stood when I think it all began.” She set her mug down. “Rhodri departed for the next phase of his education. This was the start of his travels to learn music, something he’s still doing, combined with his diplomatic training.

  “So, now Iolo had two seasoned whippers-in with one of them, in his own family line, looking like a new young huntsman-in-training. At that moment it seemed to us that all was well, that the hunt was assured of continuation. Looking back, I think instead that this was the spur to strike, before this stability became unbreakable, while there was no one in the family of an age to serve as a replacement.”

  She looked at George as if to make sure he had been following closely. “Who has most to gain from damage to the hunt?” she asked.

  Like an obedient student, he replied, “Gwythyr, I imagine.”

  “Yes. This has the smell of Gwythyr who would love to see Gwyn bested at the great hunt. Gwythyr’s strong but not subtle, and the first action taken that we can recognize is the death of Islwyn, the sort of violent action which is just his style.”

  “Islwyn and his horse went over a cliff?”

  “Unlikely as that sounds for a man with full control over hounds and horses. It was during a hunt, just before the Nos Galan Gaeaf, so he was alone, as a whipper-in usually is. We heard the cry as he fell,” she tapped her forehead, “but nothing of any use to us about how it had happened. We went over the ground very carefully afterward, you may be sure, but we could find nothing.”

  “You assume the horse bolted, too near the edge for Islwyn to stop it?”

  “We know from his cry that he was surprised so, yes, that seems the most likely thing.”

  “What could scare the horse so? A bear or wolf?”

  “This was a hunt horse, trained to such things, and in any case Islwyn would have been aware of it. And we found no tracks.”

  “So, something Islwyn couldn’t sense popped up out of nowhere and scared the horse off the cliff.”

  Ceridwen nodded.

  “When you put it like that, could it have been a way opening?” Ceridwen stared at him. “Well, couldn’t it? Unusual use of the ways seems to mark many of the events we’re talk
ing about.”

  “That’s something I never considered,” Ceridwen said slowly. “Gwythyr has no special skills with the ways, much less than even I have, so no one would think to look for that.”

  “Maybe he has a friend or ally. Or maybe it isn’t Gwythyr.”

  “No, I like the notion of an ally skilled in the ways. Gwythyr’s had strong partnerships before, to serve his will.”

  “How did the great hunt go, that year? Iolo’s notes don’t elaborate on any difficulty.”

  “We went forward with just Merfyn in place, having no other choice. It was grim; Iolo was sunk in grief. But the hounds stayed under control and we fulfilled our task.”

  “So if someone was looking for a quick disaster for Gwyn, they would have been disappointed.”

  “Indeed. But we couldn’t be sure it was an attack, and there was no immediate followup.” She cleared her throat. “Except that Creiddylad began her campaign for a different hunt management arrangement. She argued for a guard staff as a line of secondary whippers-in. It roused all our suspicions again, but she painted it for Gwyn as her way of helping in his time of trouble. Gwyn was… susceptible… and Iolo was too preoccupied with his loss to resist much.”

  “And so Owen and his men arrived.”

  “From her own household, or so she said.”

  “You don’t believe that?”

  Ceridwen pursed her lips. “You’ve heard the story of her marriage and its aftermath?”

  “Angharad told me.”

  “She would know. They’re of an age, though never friends.”

  She continued, “Creiddylad was always weak and feckless, and when her mischief-making caused so many deaths, Beli Mawr punished her with this absurd internal banishment, her father’s domain or Gwyn’s. I fear she never felt herself responsible for the carnage, but bitterly enough she resents the result. Gwyn, in pity, granted her Edgewood from his own realm, here, so that she might have some independence.”

  She sipped her tea. “I understand his motivation, but it removed her from under his eye, which was a mistake.”