He pulled out his harp, sat in the middle of the circle, and began playing. He could feel the potential all around him, the sacredness of the place, but still nothing happened. He fed magic into his music, and the echoes from the stones damped it out. He tried to fashion a call to Ogmah, and again, the stones seemed to muffle it.
Fidgen stopped playing, and began to think. Gorsedd Ogham didn’t want him to play, and didn’t want him to use magic. He knew that his Cymric magic was not the answer, so he wasn’t sure what else to do. He laid down on the grass, put his hands behind his head, and waited.
The sun dipped towards the horizon, turning the dolmens golden. Fidgen dozed a bit, and woke with a start to see the stars wheeling by overhead. He blinked a few times before they returned to their customary stillness, and he felt his heart beating fast, aware that he was in an altered state. He tried to sit up and couldn’t, so he relaxed and awaited whatever vision he might have.
The stars dimmed, and the sun rose, but nothing else happened. Fidgen struggled a bit, trying to move, and unable to. He thought hard about the possible reasons for his immobility, and it occurred to him that he needed to be as still as possible and listen.
The voice, when he heard finally heard it, was softer than a whisper, but insistent. It took him awhile before he understood the instructions, and the implications, and a bit longer to accept it. But when he did, he was released from his paralysis, and the world returned to normal.
Fidgen stood up, stretched, and dusted himself off. He bowed in the direction of the triangle of stones, and said, “I am grateful for all that has been given me. May I use it with wisdom and courage.”
A warm breeze ruffled the hem of his cloak, and he turned and left the circle to find Aodhgán.
As they rode to Taris, Fidgen asked Aodhgán what to expect when they got there. “You will be presented to the Ard Righ,” the Ollave said. “If he agrees to accept your judgment, the Pen Bardd will give you the star and a six colored cloak.”
“Will I be the only one?”
Aodhgán grinned. “I hear that three others are ready to receive the star, and have been waiting for you. Their names are Donnel, Fayla, and Tagun. Maybe you know them?”
Fidgen laughed. “I’ll bet they drove the Pen Bardd crazy with their request.”
“He was a bit upset, but they were quite insistent.”
“Is there a point where I give my true name to someone?”
“No, that’s for you and for you alone,” Aodhgán said. “It would be foolish to reveal it to anyone you didn’t have to.”
They crossed the plain of Temair, Fidgen began to feel a bit nervous about what he had planned, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He offered up silent prayers to Ogmah, Epona, Mannanan, and the Three Queens, and hoped it would be enough.
Taris sat on a hill that rose from the plain, with the Lannae river running by the east side. The north and south sides of the city came almost all the way to the foot of the hill, but the west side, which they were approaching, sat higher.
They reached the west gates just before noon, and the fians on duty waved them through. They rode up the main road to the palace, where more fians stood guard. One of them stepped in front of their horses and said, “Hold, and state your business.”
“I am Ollave Aodhgán, and this is the student bard Fidgen,” Aodhgán said. “We are here that Fidgen may be accepted by the Ard Righ and the Pen Bardd, and given the Star of the Bards.”
The fian nodded. “Be welcome to this place, and may you find what you seek.”
They rode through the gates, where grooms took their horses. Aodhgán led them to the MiCuarta, the largest hall in the palace, where Columb met them. “Welcome Fidgen,” he said. “Did you find what you sought at Gorsedd Ogham?”
“I did,” Fidgen answered.
“And are you ready to appear before the Ard Righ?”
“I am.”
“Come with me.”
Unlike most halls, the MiCuarta was round, and the Ard Righ sat in the middle, with rows of seating circling him. Many people filled the room with the low hum of conversation, but Fidgen only noticed the three standing in front of the throne, and the smiles they gave him filled his heart and took away all his nervousness. He wanted to talk to them, but the Pen Bardd immediately lined them up and stood in front of them. “Ard Righ Fergus, Lord of Taris and Sovereign of the Seven Isles, I present these candidates for the Star of the Bards.”
King Fergus had salt and pepper hair and beard, but he still looked strong and healthy. He leaned forward to study the students, and Fidgen was grateful to see wisdom and discernment in his eyes. “Let each step forward,” he said.
Donnel went first. “My name is Donnel macBuchan.”
Columb said, “Donnel has been tested and proven himself worthy of the star of the bards. Wilt thou, majesty, accept his judgment as binding?”
“I will,” Fergus answered.
Columb turned to the audience. “Let it be known that Donnel MacBuchan is forever more without honor price, worthy of wearing a cloak of six colors, and able to judge any dispute in Glencairck.”
Several people applauded as another bard came out with a new cloak. Columb unclasped Donnel’s student bard cloak and let it drop to the ground. He put the new cloak on Donnel’s shoulders and clasped it with a star shaped pin above his heart. “Welcome, brother,” he said.
“Thank you,” Donnel said with a bow.
Fayla and Tagun repeated the process, and Fidgen’s nervousness returned. When Tagun stepped back in line, he took a deep breath and stepped forward. “My name,” he said, “is Gwydion ap Don, Tanist of Gwynedd.”
For several long seconds, the only thing that happened was that Columb put his face in his hand. Then two voices rang out clearly.
Bran yelled, “I have claims on that man!”
And Arianrhod screamed, “I knew it!”
Chapter 11: Kingship
The hall erupted in chaos. Arianrhod continued screaming, but Bran simply stood and began making his way to the center of the hall. People looked at his face and moved quickly out of the way. Gwydion felt much like he had when the Firbolg had tried to bind him, and he responded the same way: he stood very still and concentrated on staying himself. But even more than at Innishmor, a part of him wanted nothing more than to become a raven and flee.
Columb pulled out his harp and began playing, and the magic that rippled forth caught everyone’s attention and calmed them all. The hall began to quiet, and even Arianrhod stopped yelling, though she too began making her way to the throne with a young boy in tow. Ard Righ Fergus, after a moment of shock, looked at Gwydion with some amusement. “And I thought this was going to be a simple ceremony.”
“As did I,” Columb said, without a trace of humor. “I should have known better with this one.”
Bran reached them first and bowed low. “Ard Righ, I am Bran ap Don, Lord Gwynedd, and I have claims on this man.”
“So do I,” Arianrhod said coming up beside him.
“And you are...?” the king asked.
“Arianrhod ap Don.”
“Are there any other members of the Don clan that would like to come forward?” the Ard Righ asked, raking the audience with his eyes. When no one answered, he said, “Very well. Lord Gwynedd, since I at least have some inkling of your claim, please go first.”
Bran said, “This man caused the destruction of Caer Dathyl, the death of Math ap Mathonwy, and the death of Gilventhy ap Don. I seek judgment for these things.”
“Pen Bardd?” the king said. “Do you have knowledge of this?”
“I do,” Columb answered. “Gwydion has been judged by myself with the High Druid as witness. The death and destruction you accuse Gwydion of happened as he tried to defend himself. It was an unfortunate incident, but it was not intentional.”
Bran nodded. “I wondered. But there is still the matter of his standing in Gwynedd.”
“How do you mean?” King Fergus ask
ed.
“He is still Tanist, as he himself has just claimed.”
Fergus looked at Gwydion. “Are you?”
“Math never released me from that duty,” Gwydion said.
“Interesting.” The Ard Righ sat back and looked at Columb. “I need your advice, Pen Bardd. It seems that I have made Bran the cantref Lord, even though I should have promoted Gwydion to that position. But at the time, no one knew if Gwydion was alive or dead. No one I talked to, at least.”
Columb bowed. “I knew where Gwydion was, but I did not know that he was still Tanist. I’m sorry, your majesty, that was an oversight on my part.”
“So how do we fix this?”
Columb turned to Gwydion. “You have the right, if you choose, to claim the title of Lord Gwynedd. What say you?”
“I relinquish any right to that title, and ask that I be released from being Tanist, as well,” Gwydion said. He turned to Bran. “The Pen Bardd and the High Druid may have cleared me of any wrongdoing, but I am still the cause of the destruction of Caer Dathyl. I do not know how you are related to me, but if you are of the line of Don, then I support your claim to rule the Cantref.”
“My grandfather was your great-grandfather’s brother,” Bran said. “Math trained me when I was young, but I could not hear the winds, so I became a trusted member of his household instead.”
“This is all very interesting and heartwarming, I’m sure,” Arianrhod said, “but I still have a claim here as well.”
Fergus fixed her with a hard stare. “I have not forgotten,” he said. “But you should remember your place in this hall.”
Arianrhod fumed, but remained silent. Gwydion could hardly stand to look at her, but he had seen the hate in her eyes, and did not know how to change it.
“Will you rebuild Caer Dathyl now that you know the truth?” Fergus asked Bran.
“I don’t know,” Bran said. “I have searched for this one for so long, I have given no thought to what I might do when I found him.”
“How did you know he would be here?” Columb asked.
“Rumors swirled about a student bard named Fidgen, who acted in some ways like the young Tanist I knew, and in some ways completely unlike him,” Bran said. “When the call went out for a bardic battle at Caer Bardd, I sent Math’s old bard Talys. I knew he would recognize Gwydion no matter how he might have changed, and he did.”
“You’re the student bard Fidgen?” Fergus said incredulously.
“That was the name I was commanded to use while I trained, yes,” Gwydion said.
“I see.” Fergus turned back to Bran. “You’ve been a good lord to your people, and I am happy to support you in that position. We have a problem, though. Gwydion has developed quite a reputation in the last few years, and no matter how voluntarily he has relinquished his title, when it is known that he and Fidgen are one and the same, I can predict a certain amount of unrest.”
“How would you like to handle the problem, majesty?” Columb asked.
Fergus pursed his lips. “If even a portion of what I heard is true, then this one will draw trouble like honey draws flies.”
“That does seem to be the case, majesty.”
Fergus sat back on his throne, rubbing his chin. “I hate to do this, because I don’t think it’s all his fault,” he said slowly. “But I want Gwydion out of my demesne for the next twenty years. I want none to rally around him or make him the center of their cause, so let it be known that he being banished for the destruction of Caer Dathyl.”
Arianrhod looked triumphant, but Gwydion felt like he had been hit in the stomach. “Twenty years?”
“It is for the good of Glencairck,” Fergus said.
Gwydion looked at Columb, who nodded. He struggled with the implications for a moment before bowing his head. “I will do as you command.”
“Thank you,” Fergus said. “Pen Bardd, please spread the word of Gwydion’s banishment, and that Bran ap Don will continue as Lord Gwynedd.”
Columb bowed. “It shall be done.”
The Ard Righ turned to Arianrhod with a stern gaze. “Now, young lady, what is your claim?”
Arianrhod pulled the young boy forward. “This Gwydion’s son, that he put in me just before disappearing from the face of the earth.”
Gwydion felt the world shift within him again. “I have a son?”
“I swear that he is yours and none other,” Arianrhod said. “And I will thank you to take him into your household, if you ever have one.”
“What is his name?” Gwydion said, staring at the boy. He had Ari’s blonde hair, but the eyes reminded him of Math’s.
“I never named him,” Ari said.
The audience gasped, and Columb and Fergus both looked shocked. The Pen Bardd recovered first, and knelt in front of the child. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t have one,” the boy said clearly.
“What does your mother call you then?” Columb asked gently.
“She doesn’t talk to me at all, if she doesn’t have to.”
“I see,” Columb said. “You’re what? Four years old? Who do you talk to?”
“I’m three. I talk to the servants at the caer.”
“What do they call you?”
“Boy.”
Columb stood back up. “Arianrhod ap Don, you have committed a very serious offense.”
“I have?” she said incredulously. “What about Gwydion?”
“He had no knowledge of this child,” Columb. “You are his mother.”
“I didn’t want to be anyone’s mother,” Arianrhod said. “That’s why I’m so furious with him. He did this to me.”
“Did he rape you?” Fergus asked.
“No,” she admitted. “But he is a powerful wizard. No other woman he has bedded ended up pregnant. Why me?”
“I cannot answer that,” Columb said. “But I can render judgment on you for your treatment of this child.”
“What am I being judged for? Why don’t you judge him?” she said, pointing at Gwydion.
“Gwydion had a hand in the conception of this child, but you have been responsible for raising him to this point,” Columb said. “Your refusal to even name him is sufficient for you to be found guilty of a serious crime.”
Arianrhod grew very still. She crossed her arms in front of her, and her eyes flashed with cold fire. “Oh really? And what is my punishment?”
“Since you cannot be trusted to act with the least amount of decency towards a child from your own womb,” Columb said, “I hereby sentence you to be confined to Caer Sidi off the coast of Gwynedd for the rest of your life.”
“You can’t do that.”
“He can, and he just did,” the king said. “It is harsher than what I would have done, which is to take you out and execute you.”
Arianrhod dropped her arms, and her fists clenched tight. “Then I lay this curse on the boy: he will never have a name unless I give it to him.”
A wave of magic washed through the hall like a cold wind. The force of it almost knocked Gwydion over.
Ard Righ Fergus stood up. “You have chosen an evil course,” he said. “Reverse it, and give the child a name. Now.”
“Or what?” Arianrhod said. “Or you’ll have me killed? Then how would he ever get named?”
“You have proven the wisdom of the Pen Bardd’s judgment on you, Arianrhod ap Don,” the king said. He motioned to a couple a fians standing nearby. “Take her out of here. Let her return to her home to gather what she needs, and then ensure that she goes directly to Caer Sidi.”
“Yes, your majesty,” they said with a salute.
“And take a whole squad with you,” the king said. “I don’t trust her.”
They watched as she was led out of the hall. Fergus turned to Gwydion. “You’ve been very quiet during all this,” he said.
“I am still struggling with the fact that I have a son,” Gwydion said.
“Well, there he is,” Fergus said. “I’m placing him in your c
are, and expect you to do for him what his mother would not.”
Gwydion reached out a hand, and the boy came over and took it. “I will do what I can.”
“I know you will,” Fergus said. He flashed a smile. “The Pen Bardd chose her punishment well, since Caer Sidi is technically apart from the rest of Glencairck. Now is the time to prove all that has been told of your abilities, for the sake of your son.”
“Thank you, majesty,” Gwydion said.
“Thank the Pen Bardd for his quick thinking.”
Gwydion turned and bowed deeply to Columb. “Thank you, Master.”
Columb opened his mouth to answer when Donnel stepped forward. “I want to go with Fidgen. I mean, Gwydion.”
Tagun and Fayla nodded. “So do we,” they said.
Columb shook his head. “Your loyalty is admirable,” he said. “But you are bards now, and I have other tasks for you. I’m sorry.”
“We are free men who can choose our own fate,” Donnel said, his hand automatically going for a sword he was not wearing.
“Yes, you can,” Columb answered. “But it would be ill advised on many levels. You have already sworn your oath to me and to Glencairck, and you have been accepted by the Ard Righ. If you choose to go with Gwydion, I will bind you all and take you to Gorsedd Ogham, where we will make sure you are never bards again.”
Gwydion stepped forward. “Don’t do this,” he said. “I asked you once before to let me make my own way; please let me do so again.”
“Twenty years is a long time,” Tagun said. “Anything could happen.”
“And with my luck, probably will,” Gwydion said. “But I could use friends here when I return.”
“And will you return?” Fayla said.
“I promise it,” Gwydion said. “And I will send messages as I can.”
“You’d better,” Donnel said. “You know we will seek ye out if you don’t.”
“To the ends of the earth,” Tagun said.
“I know it, and I am more grateful than you know.”
The Bardic Academy (A Bard Without a Star, Book 3) Page 14