by Lowri Thomas
Taliesin frowned. ‘Perhaps I should have stayed–’
‘No, Taliesin, your place is with your mother while I slumber, or at least until you take your rightful place among us. This bleak mountain, crawling with Druids, would be a wretched place to stay alone all Summer.’ Aeron grimaced at the thought. ‘Come let us go and make merry, and do not worry about Afagddu, I will bring him down a notch or two before this night is through.’
But Taliesin did worry about his father’s Councillor, if truth be told he was a little fearful of Afagddu, and not just because of his repulsive appearance. Something about the Druid gave Taliesin cause for unease, he just couldn’t put his finger on why.
Afagddu cringed inwardly as he watched father and son stroll down the hallway, smiling, at ease in each other’s company. Affection was a sign of weakness, a chink in the armour: a fault.
With a nod from Aeron, Afagddu slammed the butt of his ceremonial crook three times on the stone floor before intoning, ‘He comes, He comes, Aeron Ddu, King of the Winter Realm, imminent Suffragan Orphanim of the Bwy Hir. He comes, He comes. All kneel to your King.’
Aeron made a sweeping entrance into the Great Hall, pausing to survey the bowed heads of his brethren and the prostrate figures of the Druids in attendance. He spread his arms open and threw back his head and thundered, ‘Stand my brothers and celebrate the first night of Autumn!’
With a roar his brethren bounded to their feet and rushed to embrace him. Taliesin, who had been standing at a discrete distance, was dragged into the maelstrom of the male Bwy Hir reunited.
The banquet commenced in earnest; endless streams of steaming platters were fetched and carried into the Great Hall, barrel upon barrel of drink hauled in and drunk dry before being replaced. Music and laughter echoed through the halls and galleries as the Bwy Hir celebrated long into the night. Harpists were replaced by pipers, drummers joining in until exhausted they retired leaving the Bwy Hir singing in earnest of deeds long done. Even Taliesin who’d felt melancholic at leaving his mother managed to join in a verse or two. Only one person stood alone and aloof, enduring the vulgarity with barely disguised antipathy.
Afagddu stood silently observing the raucous behaviour from the shadows, only feigning a smile when someone bothered to look his way. He only became attentive when he heard his name being spoken. ‘Is that right, Afagddu?’ slurred Cadno, as he leaned passed Aeron to view the Druid standing behind him.
‘Is what right, Lord Cadno?’ Afagddu politely inquired to the raven haired Bwy Hir.
‘That all you creepy Druids are celibate?’ Cadno answered before taking another swig of beer as he watched Afagddu from the corner of his eye.
‘Why, yes,’ Afagddu answered courteously, ‘we all take a vow of celibacy when we enter the brotherhood.’
‘Well, I never knew!’ exclaimed Cadno to a smirking Aeron. ‘How do they keep multiplying then? This place is overrun with them!’
Aeron roared with laughter. ‘Answer him Afagddu!’ he demanded. Afagddu ground his teeth before answering. ‘We source our initiates from all walks of life. Those we gather are often abandoned by their families, or withdraw themselves from society – waifs and strays. We gather them and if they are suitable they are instructed and admitted to our cloisters, but suitable candidates are becoming increasingly harder to unearth, and despite your observations you will find our numbers are dwindling … as are yours–’ Afagddu was suddenly cut off, he clasped at his throat and fought for breath.
‘Tread very carefully, Councillor,’ Aeron warned, while seemingly focused on his tankard, ‘your insolence is becoming tiresome. Do you wish to apologise to my brother for your impudence?’
Cadno watched with amusement as Afagddu’s face turned purple. Afagddu struggled against the vice like grip around his throat and nodded desperately. The throttling lasted a few more moments before Afagddu felt its release and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. The room had gone deathly quiet as Afagddu hit the floor, Druid and Bwy Hir alike turned to watch in curious silence.
Aeron raised his voice to the whole room, ‘My Councillor has forgotten how to serve the Bwy Hir correctly. I do sincerely hope that the rest of you have not fallen so far.’ He eyed each and every Druid in the room before continuing, ‘I will not tolerate tardiness during my rule. You will serve the Bwy Hir as we see fit!’ he yelled, saliva flying from his mouth. ‘Be warned, my faithful Druids, that although we may not be permitted to spill Human blood, we may still inflict pain and suffering beyond imagining, am I understood?’
All the Druids nodded their heads and murmured their assent while Afagddu still struggled for breath. He pointed at the Druids. ‘All of you – get out of my sight!’ he roared, hurling his tankard into the throng while Druids rushed to escape. Afagddu struggled to his feet and flew out of a side door into a deserted hallway. He could hear the panicked bustling of his brothers scrambling for the safety of their cells.
Rubbing his tender throat while swallowing the bile of humiliation, Afagddu burned with hatred. His reputation among the Druids had been irrevocably damaged, his station now vulnerable. He had clawed his way to where he was and he was in sight of losing everything, everything, because of the capriciousness of the Bwy Hir. How had he miscalculated so enormously?
With a cry of rage Afagddu threw himself away from the wall he was leaning so heavily against, and fled to the safety of seclusion, away from the mocking laugh of the Bwy Hir and the accusatory stares of his peers.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mab felt forlorn, she was missing Taliesin already. She dawdled lethargically down the winding path towards the hollow. Music and laughter drifted to her on a taciturn breeze and she sighed deeply.
‘Acting like a moonstruck youngling will get you nowhere,’ Awel chided, as she met Mab on the leafy pathway.
‘You made me jump!’ exclaimed Mab.
‘Good, it will bring some colour to your cheeks.’ Awel snaked an arm through Mab’s as they made their way down the grassy slope to the hollow. ‘Make the most of this evening Mab, the heavens know how busy we’ll be come sunrise. So much to do with such little time, blast that Aeron!’ she grumbled.
‘You are right Awel, as always.’ Mab smiled at her advisor and closest friend. ‘Announce me to the pride and then you and I shall get as drunk as Oli-Gin!’
Awel clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. ‘Queen indeed,’ she muttered while stomping to the entrance of the hollow. ‘Women of the Bwy Hir, hail your Queen!’
A roar of cheers welcomed Mab as she made her entrance, her face beamed as she hugged each and every member of the Pride in turn, sharing greetings and compliments as she went. The last woman to acknowledge Mab was Olwyn, affectionately known as Oli-Gin, who was standing unsteadily by the fire pit, clumsily concentrating on connecting a wine bottle to her lips.
‘Olwyn!’ Mab gently scolded, ‘Any closer to the fire and you’ll be standing in it!’
Oli-Gin tried to focus with one eye closed, her head wobbling on her slim neck. ‘How lovely to see you Mab!’ she slurred with a foolish grin on her face. ‘I know you will be sad to see our season end so soon, but I,’ she said, poking a finger into her own chest. ‘I will be glad to sleep, oh yes I will,’ she hiccupped.
‘Looks like you could do with some sleep!’ Awel scoffed at Oli-Gin as she passed Mab a goblet. ‘Will you toast the Pride, Mab?’
‘Of course, Awel.’ Mab stepped higher up the side of the hollow so all could see her. She waited until the women had quietened before speaking.
‘My beautiful, diligent Bwy Hir,’ she began, ‘such a season we have created!’ Applause and cheers punctuated her speech. ‘We have kept the covenants, we once again balanced this fair land with a precision only the Pride could attain.’ They laughed at her jibe. ‘The Chosen and thus all of the Lost peoples will once again benefit from nature’s bounty and enjoy the fruits of their Harvest. Stores of crops and fattened flocks will grace their tables this Winter because we mak
e it so!’ Her powerful voice resonated through the gathering, filling hearts with pride and eyes with tears.
‘Let the cold winds blow, let the harsh rain fall, let the Winter storms do their worst for we have prevailed!’ A huge roar tore through the hollow, arms pumped the air victoriously, whistles and cheers pierced the night as the music resumed in earnest.
‘Well done, well done.’ Awel congratulated Mab as she helped her down from her podium. ‘They will attend the Solstice with great dignity and pride after that speech.’
‘And so they should, Awel,’ said Mab, taking a well-earned swig from her goblet. ‘We have done well, the Winter King will have his work cut out unravelling our labours.’ Mab and Awel shared a conspiratorial smile.
‘Do you know,’ said Awel grabbing a pre-offered goblet from a passing Tylwyth Teg, ‘there are places beyond the sea that are as barren as an old crone’s womb? Nothing grows, no rivers, nothing thrives.’
Mab shook her head in wonder. ‘Do you think there any more of us across the sea, Awel?’
‘How could there not be Mab, there must be more of us,’ Awel said intensely.
‘Even if the Druids cannot find them?’ Mab pressed.
‘Druids!’ Awel spat. ‘If I knew a Druid was looking for me, I too would evade them with all of my ability!’
Mab smiled a melancholic smile. ‘Now, don’t start pouting again.’ Awel cautioned Mab with a wag of her finger. ‘Whether there are more of us or not makes no difference. Bwy Hir cannot cross the sea; the Covenant must be kept, so supposition is pointless. We have enough problems of our own without looking for more on the horizon.’
‘Again, you are right, Awel ...’ Mab brightened. ‘And now, my dear friend, without further ado we must celebrate!’ She grabbed Awel’s arm and spun her into the throng of dancers trampling the grass underfoot as they capered into the night.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anwen had slept in again. The house was silent, but the sound of tapping and sawing drifted in from the yard outside, she could hear the drone of a Land Rover chugging up the lane. She yawned and dragged her tired body out of bed. Is that someone coming or maybe someone returning? She wondered whether Gwyn had been into town, she’d noticed they were running low on a couple of things, including bread.
Dai Jones swung his vehicle into the yard and dragged the handbrake into position before squeezing out from behind the steering wheel and greeting Dafydd with a wave and a smile.
‘You’ll never believe it!’ he wheezed excitedly, ‘PC Plod has only gone and bought himself one of them Volkswagen camper thingies – a bright bloody orange one!’ He hooted with laughter.
‘Who did, James Mallard?’ Dafydd queried.
Dai erupted in a wholehearted belly laugh. ‘Yes, yes!’ he whooped, ‘James and the Giant Peach!’
All the workers burst into peals of laughter. PC James Mallard was often the butt of local jokes and jibes, but he had brought this one on himself.
Dai continued with his news once he was capable. ‘I seen him in town this morning, showing it off in the square he was. Oh Dafydd, he says to tell you he’s found a tramp sneaking about the village.’ Dai gave a knowing look. ‘Says the fella’s been hanging round for a week or so. James couldn’t charge him with anything but he reckons he could be the one who started your barn fire and abandoned his dog to the flames.’ Dai raised his eyebrows encouragingly. ‘Anyways, he drummed him out of town with a flea in his ear by all accounts.’
‘Well that is good news. The bugger won’t be bothering anyone else’s farm then.’ Dafydd feigned relief.
‘No he will not.’ Dai nodded his head in satisfaction as he spoke. ‘Cerys from the bakery says he’d been rummaging through her bins at the back and made an awful mess, which reminds me ...’ He rummaged under his passenger seat and produced a plump plastic bag. ‘Cerys said to give you this and she hopes Anwen will be back to work as soon as she’s well enough, but she said there’s no rush, mind.’
‘Right then,’ said Dai, clapping his hands together, ‘let’s get the barn built … who’s making the tea before I get started?’
‘Anwen?’ Dafydd shouted into the hallway. ‘Are you awake yet?’
‘Yes, and don’t shout!’ Anwen called from the kitchen. ‘I take it you all want tea?’
‘Good girl,’ he called back, ‘Cerys has sent some bread and cakes up with Dai, I’ll leave it on the doorstep ‘cause my boots are all muddy.’
Anwen loaded the tea tray and retrieved the bag from the doorway. She unloaded the loaves and put them in the bread bin before slicing up a cake and taking it out to the men.
Bara was busy chasing scents around the yard, running up and down, nose to the floor, growling and whining, spinning in circles. ‘Must have caught the scent of a fox,’ Anwen said, as she watched Bara’s frenzied behaviour.
All the men nodded their heads noncommittally. ‘Take her inside with you, Anwen,’ said her father between a mouthful of cake, ‘she’ll only get underfoot outside.’
Whistling for Bara to follow, Anwen went back to the house to tidy the kitchen. Clearing the worktop of crumbs, she sipped her tea and popped a piece of cake in her mouth and began to chew. Suddenly, and without warning, she unceremoniously vomited into the sink, heaving and gagging until her throat burned.
She wiped her hand across her mouth and turned on the tap to rinse the sink clear and sprayed cleaner around the bowl before anyone saw the mess she’d made. Feeling shaky and tearful she pushed her hair out of her face and leant against the Aga for warmth.
I couldn’t be, could I? She bit her nails and fretted over the possibility. No, no I couldn’t be, the book says the Bwy Hir cannot father a child, nor can they carry a Human seed within them, the two bloods don’t mix, the book says so!
Anwen whimpered as she considered the worst. If I am pregnant how do I explain it? I’m not even courting as far as anyone knows … oh my father will kill me, if the Druids don’t get to me first.
Her mind was distracted by the sound of another vehicle coming up the lane. She brushed the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath before peering through the kitchen window to see who had come.
A burgundy taxi pulled up and the driver jumped out and opened the rear door. Dafydd, Gwyn and Dai all turned to watch as the passenger got out. ‘Oh no ...’ moaned Dafydd, feeling his heart sink, ‘it’s Nerys.’
Nerys smoothed her dress over her ample figure as she stepped away from the taxi clutching a small suitcase. The driver ran to the rear of the car and began unloading boxes and cases.
‘Oh no …’ Dafydd moaned again, ‘she’s got suitcases.’
Nerys ran a gloved hand over her flawlessly set silvery hair, her bosom and colossal hips swayed in tandem as she picked her way through the yard making sure she didn’t dirty her stout, sensible shoes. ‘Ah Dafydd, there you are, come and give your aunt a kiss.’ She leaned forward and allowed Dafydd to peck her pudgy cheek.
‘Uh, what brings you here, Nerys?’ Dafydd asked, dreading the answer.
‘Didn’t you get my letter?’ she said, her eyebrows knitting together.
‘No. I’ve had nothing from you.’ Dafydd scratched his head.
‘Well the letter must have been lost in the post! Well never mind, I’m here now so I can tell you myself. I’ve come to stay with you for a while, until my cottage renovations are finished. All that banging and drilling and dust is driving me insane, so I’ve decided to stay here until it’s finished. You don’t mind do you Dafydd?’ Nerys’ voice gave the hint of a challenge.
‘Uh, no of course not, Nerys. A little notice would have been nice, but no bother, you know you’re always welcome here, stay as long as you like.’
‘Good. I’ll take my sister’s room for the time being, don’t let me disturb you, I can see you’re busy. New barn is it? About time you rebuilt, the old barn was a wreck. I’ll go on inside. Is Anwen home? She can help me unpack. Oh Gwyn, there you are, you can bring my things up to my room. We
ll, don’t let me keep you. Pretend I’m not even here.’
Dafydd hadn’t been able to get a word in edgeways. He watched her roll into the house and Gwyn dragged his heels to retrieve her belongings deposited at the gate.
Dai leaned over to Dafydd and whispered, ‘That’s not the Nerys is it? Your mother’s sister, Nerys Jones?’
‘The very same,’ Dafydd sighed.
‘Oh, you poor, poor man. You have my condolences.’ Dai patted Dafydd’s shoulder in sympathy.
Nerys Jones usually lived in the seaside town of Criccieth, comfortably far enough away for Dafydd not to feel obliged to call in on a regular basis, but near enough to make the occasional trips on significant birthdays or just before Christmas if the weather was mild enough.
She was a formidable woman, a staunch Christian and ruled the local Mother’s Union with a rod of iron. She was an independent, bolshy, no-nonsense spinster, who did as she pleased, when she pleased and Dafydd was dismayed that she’d chosen to land herself on them now. He hadn’t the first idea how Anwen would react to her great aunt, but he had the inkling there would be fireworks.
Gwyn carted his great aunt’s effects up to his grandparent’s bedroom. No-one ever slept in there, the room had never been used since the death of his grandparents before Gwyn was born, one dying within six weeks of the other, his grandmother passed first, his grandfather followed shortly after. His father said granddad had died from a broken heart, but if Nerys were anything like his grandmother, Gwyn seriously doubted it.
‘Just put everything over there.’ Nerys pointed to the corner of the room. Gwyn obliged, setting the boxes carefully down. He winced as he stood, holding his chest.
‘Something wrong Gwyn?’ she inquired looking over the rim of her glasses.
‘No, just a bit stiff from working on the barn.’
‘Oh, I see … well thank you very much for all your help, you can go now.’ Nerys shooed him out of the room.