by Karen Myers
Tanguy bowed again and left.
“I can’t picture her given to fire,” George said, dismayed.
Angharad shook her head. “That’s not what happens. We all use that spot for ceremonies, but the lutins will take her on and bury her afterward.”
“I didn’t know. Will there be anything at graveside?”
“Their burial ground is private. We don’t intrude upon it. I’m not sure just where it is.”
Angharad turned to Alun. “I’ll leave after the ceremony this afternoon.”
George would be sorry to see her go. He invited her out onto the porch, the day being too mild to waste indoors.
“About last night…”
“You were very tired,” she smiled. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
He shook his head ruefully. “I feel like I was on a new year’s binge, and not a drop taken.”
“You should go take a nap,” she said. “You have a lot of catching up to do. I can look after myself.”
A nap sounded like an excellent idea, his stomach full and the temperature just right. “Alright, I will. Please ask Alun to make sure I’m up in time to dress for the ceremony.” He rose and went in, up to his bed, opening the windows wide to let in the air, and adding blankets next to him on the bed in case he got chilly.
Alun leaned over and shook him. He opened his eyes, drowsily.
“Sorry to wake you, but Rhodri’s here.”
How long had he been asleep? He checked his watch and found he’d been out about an hour and a half. He rubbed his face and reached for his shoes and outer garments.
What did Rhodri want?
Walking downstairs, he found Angharad and Rhodri laughing together in the study. Rhodri looked up as he heard George’s steps.
“What a wonderful painting she’s done of you,” he said.
George smiled. “Yes. I love it.”
The simple declaration gladdened Angharad’s face, and Rhodri raised his eyebrow as he caught the look between them.
Reluctantly, Rhodri stood up. “Sorry to intrude, but we didn’t see you at lunch and were concerned. Gwyn is convening an initial meeting to deal with things after last night, and he wants it over well before Isolda’s funeral. He sent me to summon you both.”
Angharad said to Alun, before they left, “Would you arrange a seat in a wagon for me, for the ceremony, so my horse can rest a bit longer before I leave tonight?”
George added, “I’m down to just Llamrei myself, with Mosby exhausted and Afanc wounded.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Alun said, shutting the door behind them.
As they walked toward the manor, they encountered departing guests clustered in the yard in family groups, sorting out horses and belongings. One fellow caught sight of George, and bounced over to shake his hand, giving a respectful little bow over it. “Thank you, huntsman.”
Soon there was a steady stream of them slowing him down. George recognized some of the blowhards from the earlier hunts who had had a lot to say about Iolo’s death and human huntsmen. They all thanked him, often with a little ritual gesture. George murmured something polite to each one and kept on moving.
Rhodri laughed at his bewildered look as the last walked off. “It’s not really you they’re thanking, you understand.”
He laughed again as it finally dawned on George what they wanted. Of course, it was Cernunnos they were trying to impress. His lips quirked. Lot of good that’ll do them.
“They think you might be staying and they want to be in your, um, his, good graces for next time,” Rhodri said.
He paused as they approached the manor doors. “Are you staying?” He looked straight into George’s face.
At his side, George could feel Angharad waiting to hear his answer.
“I don’t know,” he said, slowly. “I have some decisions to make.”
The three of them were last to the council room. George took a seat between Angharad and Rhodri and looked around. This was Gwyn’s inner council and family, as well as members of last night’s posse.
Gwyn and Edern, with Rhys, Rhian, and Rhodri represented the family. I suppose I do, too, George thought, with a bit of surprise. Ceridwen and Idris were there, of course, and Eurig and Angharad as special guests.
Gwyn greeted George. “I’m pleased to see you well, kinsman.”
Before George could murmur a reply, an irrepressible yawn made its way out. “Sorry, sir, still a little short on sleep.”
A chuckle traveled round the table.
Gwyn called the session to order. “I would like to start by thanking our huntsman for a successful hunt under difficult conditions.”
Gwyn and Edern were content with nods, but everyone else around the table rose and bowed to him, before reseating themselves. George’s face flamed with embarrassment.
Gwyn said, “I also wish to especially thank Eurig and Angharad for their help last night. I want all of you to know what will result from that, and what we have discovered.”
He paused to order his thoughts.
“Today we opened the way that Creiddylad had caused to be closed against all others and took back the estates we had granted her from our domain. Her way is now restored to public access.”
George leaned over to Rhodri. “You’ve been busy,” he whispered.
Rhodri’s mouth quirked.
Gwyn said, “Idris has made an initial inspection.” He nodded to Idris to report to the group.
“This morning, Mederei Badellfawr, Creiddylad’s bodyguard, came to me as spokesman for Creiddylad’s party here. She’s offered to help by easing the transition with the people in charge at Edgewood. I believe she’s ashamed of Creiddylad’s actions and wants no part of it. I’ve left her at Edgewood with some of my men and Ifor Moel, who will give us a full report.
“Our initial impression is grim. It will take a long time for this estate and its people to recover. Not only does Creiddylad seem to have been an untalented ruler from the start, but Madog has been there for hundreds of years, we think, and made it worse. Her people are isolated, hungry, and mutinous. They’ve been cut off from trade.”
Rhys asked, “What about the lutins that settled with them?”
“They’ve vanished. We think they’re in hiding, not dead, and have reverted to their old hidden customs with the humans, only coming out at night, and so forth. We’re going to need help from their families here to lure them out into the open again.”
Gwyn said, “I well remember the counsels of some of you that this might come to pass when I gifted Creiddylad with Edgewood, and I grieve to learn my error has cost so much pain.”
There was a moment of silence.
Well said, George thought. It’s a confident ruler who can admit a mistake and own the results.
Gwyn said, “It will take years, many years, to restore Edgewood to health, and I must set a lord there. I intend to place my foster-son Rhys in this position, for his education, as a pledge of my determination to repair the damage, and for the good of the people.”
The look of surprise on Rhys’s face amused George. Well, I knew I would lose him as a whipper-in.
Rhys stammered a reply, thanking his foster-father. Rhian squeezed his hand and Edern looked gratified.
“Rhodri will work closely with him, to finish sorting out all the issues with the ways, and to give him some practical experience with diplomacy at its most basic level,” Gwyn said.
George leaned over to Rhodri again and whispered, “Ouch.”
Rhodri choked and kicked him under the table. Then he nodded to Gwyn in acknowledgment.
“These are our preliminary plans, and more will become clear once we have Ifor Moel’s report.”
He paused and looked around the table before continuing.
“Now, here, with our family and close friends, I want to tell you all what we think brought us to this point. Much of this story seems correct to me, though there’s much we can’t confirm.
“We believe Ma
dog’s home is west of the mountains, and that he claimed it several hundred years ago. We know he’s a way-master of unusual skill. He has appeared at several courts in the old world, as if he were just another lesser fae, and at some point he met Gwythyr and formed an alliance.
“Gwythyr wanted what he always wants, but Madog wanted more. We think Madog covets Annwn for himself. It would make him one of the higher powers, if he were successful. He thought of Creiddylad as a way of getting close to us, and he sought her out.
“She had kept her one way restricted and her boundaries secure through her control of the tokens, under mine, but Madog showed her how he could do much, much more for her. We don’t yet know how he gave her access to other ways, but she became his companion and partner, and he took her with him on his travels, under a glamour. Her annual appearance here, well-clothed, deflected concerns about the damage she was doing to Edgewood in its isolation, since we assumed that it must be on the trading routes somewhere.
“We don’t know when this partnership began—we’ll find out from the staff at Edgewood—but we first learned of Madog when Creiddylad began bringing him with her each year, about fifty years ago. I believe that marks the starting point of the plans that culminated last night. That’s when they began trying to move the pieces around to make the great hunt fail.
“Eighteen years ago—you remember, Rhodri—our kinsman Rhodri finished his two years with the hunt and left for his music travels. He’d done his rotation early to free up time for this study. Soon after he left, Iolo’s promising kinsman Islwyn was killed, hunting. Ceridwen and George now think, and I agree, that Islwyn may have been ambushed from some unknown way, arranged by Madog. There’s no evidence for this, but it makes perfect sense as a first move on the part of the enemy.
“They may have hoped that a sudden loss of two whippers-in would cause the hunt to fail, but it didn’t work as planned. Merfyn was the sole whipper-in for several years, but Iolo made do, and it must have seemed that no progress had been made.
“At this point, Creiddylad took an active hand and petitioned me to bring in Owen the Leash and his men, and I foolishly allowed it. Madog supplied them to her, of course. In retrospect, this was the setup for their second try at the hunt.
“Madog was clever. With each move he made, he allowed things to settle again afterward so that we would not detect the noose tightening. It wasn’t until twelve years ago that he next showed his hand, partnering with Gwythyr. While Madog wanted to make the hunt fail, to capture Annwn, Gwythyr just wanted the destruction of my family by any means, as an end to itself.
“We now believe that Madog set up the false way that ambushed my brother’s son, his wife, and all his retainers. We have reason to believe they’re probably all dead.”
Gwyn reached for his brother’s hand with both of his and bowed his head over it. Edern’s face was stony.
George caught the dismay on Rhys and Rhian’s faces. This is the first time they’ve heard any of this, he thought.
Gwyn straightened up. “Luckily, the children were safe and, as soon as Rhys Vachan would let us,” he looked mock-sternly at Rhys, “we brought them both here to be fostered. We thought Edern was the object of the attack and this would make them safer. It did remove them from Gwythyr’s direct reach, but it gave Madog all his eggs in one basket.
“For all of this time I could not believe that Creiddylad would harm the family directly, that she would have anything to do with the death of her nephew or the attempt on the children. I was wrong.”
Rhian spoke up, “It was the strangest thing. While Madog was attacking us in the clearing, where Brynach fell, she was looking at me in the oddest way, as if she were sorry, and not sorry, both.”
It was a moment before Gwyn resumed.
“Since Rhys Vachan survived, Madog continued to bide his time with Owen the Leash in place, waiting for Rhys to join the hunt for the family stint, two years ago. Shortly thereafter, Merfyn’s father Ithel was slain in a senseless fight, and he left to assume his father’s domain. Was that death also part of this tale? I’m suspicious of coincidence and I think it was within Gwythyr’s power to accomplish.
“Now the time was ripe to destroy the great hunt. All the pieces were in position. Gwythyr gave Cyledr Wyllt to Madog, as a weapon. Cyledr had found his way back to him long after his father’s death. Madog gave him to Creiddylad, as a servant.”
He paused. “To this day I don’t understand if Gwythyr and Creiddylad know that Madog’s used them both for his own plans. Do they know of each other’s involvement?” he said, looking at Edern.
“Who can tell?” Edern said.
“Madog sent Scilti in, independently, as an outsider. Scilti’s job was to control Cyledr and cause any other mischief he could. Madog also provided spell-sticks and some form of way-tokens, whatever they needed.”
Ceridwen spoke. “We think that Madog took from Creiddylad the personal traces needed to breach and nullify the palisade. She might not have known about it.”
Gwyn nodded in agreement.
“Madog launched the final plan by having Cyledr kill Iolo, using a distracting disguise. It removed a piece and muddied the waters, both. Two weeks before the great hunt, with one whipper-in. What could we do?”
He looked at George, who tried to keep from squirming.
“At that very moment, Cernunnos took a hand. I don’t know how he knew, thirty-odd years ago that we would need him—perhaps that’s when Madog’s plans to take over Annwn reached some particular point—but George’s parentage raises many questions.”
George was shocked. Was I bred for this, like a hound? What about my mother’s marriage? Was my father Cernunnos himself or some sort of… avatar?
Did Cernunnos put me into place as a piece, to counter Madog’s pieces? Cold-blooded bastard.
Gwyn said, “George came to us at Iolo’s death, and all their plans began to unravel. When he brought the hounds back successfully, it must have unnerved Madog to think we might have found a substitute huntsman, and thus the attack at Daear Llosg the next day. We haven’t unsealed that way yet to confirm it, but I think we’ll find it leads to Edgewood. The fighters, of course, were probably provided by Madog. It must have made him particularly angry for his ambush to not only fail, but to be thwarted specifically by George.”
Clang, George thought, another part of a higher plan slamming into place. He thought he could almost hear Cernunnos laugh.
Ceridwen said, “We don’t know when the two hidden ways were created, but we’ve found many traces of the methods used for all of these things. Cyledr’s possessions in the servants’ rooms included unused spell-sticks which we’re still studying, and unusual way-tokens. I searched his body at the end, and he was carrying more of them. I don’t know how many of the ways at the great hunt were opened or tampered with by Cyledr, using these tools, but we know at least that he closed the first way that Gwyn opened for the hunt on the bridge.”
Gwyn said, “We don’t know exactly why Scilti killed Maonirn and passed through the palisade, but he may have been trying to get orders from Madog when he couldn’t meet with Cyledr. He escaped, back through the same way that took Madog and Creiddylad late last night. That way is gone, now, destroyed by George.”
Rhys asked, “Where did it lead?”
“I think it went to Madog’s own lands,” George said.
Gwyn said, “This is where we are today. Cernunnos seems to have assented to our continued rule, but our enemies are very much alive and currently unreachable. We have a great deal of work to do to heal what’s ours at Edgewood.”
He looked at George. “And we have a question that must be asked. Kinsman, will you stay and lead the hunt for us?”
You knew this would come. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “I’ll tell you my decision, soon.”
Gwyn persisted. “I want you to stay.” Edern nodded.
“Soon,” George said, stubbornly.
As the meeting began to break u
p, Edern came up to George and bowed. “Thank you for the life of my grand-daughter.”
“Tell that to Ives,” George said, and then was surprised at himself. Where did that come from, he wondered. Isolda’s death wasn’t Edern’s fault.
George rode Llamrei alongside the wagon carrying Angharad, Alun, and Brynach as they entered Daear Llosg. Not much had been said as they came up the road from the manor. George was lost in his own thoughts about Isolda, her wonderful promise and the price she paid.
In the light of the setting sun, he was stunned to find so many people. It seemed that over a hundred lutins must be there, as well as most of the tall folk from the manor and much of the village. He took a position behind them and said to Rhys, who had ridden over to join them, “I had no idea there were so many lutins here.”
“Many more will be at the interment, almost everyone who could travel here in time.”
George recognized Brittou, from Iona’s place, up with Ives at the front, as well as both the kennel-men, and Benitoe, his face desolate. Less than a day ago, he had a future all planned out, soon to be buried in the coffin lying before him.
The coffin seemed tiny, suitable for a child. It lay deep in a bed of autumn leaves in a wagon.
So much life, so much heart, in such a little space, George thought.
Gwyn stood in the first row, his head bowed.
Rhys said to George, “My grandfather asked me to make sure that the lutins at Edgewood are well taken care of, for the sake of Isolda and my sister’s life.”
At that George looked up sharply to Edern standing next to Gwyn, and their eyes met. Edern nodded formally, and George acknowledged him with respect. I was sorry I snapped at him when he thanked me, and here he’s gone and done the right thing, George thought.
Ives stood forward and the crowd silenced.
“We will return to the soil, the mother of all. My daughter, Isolda, will shine within our hearts, until we join her there.”
A hum rose up from the lutins, eerie in the still air.
Benitoe stood next to him.
“She was to be my wife. When I tracked her murderer-to-be I wished him worthy of a fight. My words have turned to ashes, and my strength to nothing.”