Taliesin: Book One of the Pendragon Cycle

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  "Then Arawn uttered the ancient and mysterious words once more and each king was restored to his own shape and semblance, and each took himself once more to his own kingdom. When Arawn arrived at his own court, it gave him great pleasure to see his own retinue and warband and his fair queen since he had not seen them for a year. But for their part, they had not felt his loss, so there was nothing extraordinary about his presence.

  "He passed that day in pleasure and joy, conversing with his wife and his lords. And after dining and the evening's entertainment when it was time to go to bed, to bed they went. Arawn got into bed and his wife with him. First he talked to her, then caressed her affectionately and loved her. She had not been accustomed to that for a year and thought to herself, 'Upon my word! What a different mind he has tonight from what he has had for the past year!'

  "And she thought about this for a long time, and was still thinking when Arawn awoke and spoke to her. When she did not answer, he spoke to her again and a third time, saying, 'Woman, why do you not speak to me?'

  "'I tell you the truth,' she answered, 'I have not spoken this much for a year under these circumstances!'

  "'My lady,' he said, 'I believe we have talked continually.'

  "'Shame on me," the queen replied, 'if from the moment we went between the sheets there was either pleasure or talk between us, or even your facing me—much less anything more than that!—for the past year.'

  "'Gods in heaven and earth,' thought Arawn, 'what a unique man I found to befriend me. Such strong and unwavering friendship shall be rewarded.' And he explained all that had happened to his wife, telling her the entire adventure.

  "'I confess,' she said when he had finished, 'when it comes to fighting temptation and keeping true to you, you had a solid hold on a fellow.'

  "Meanwhile, Pwyll came to his own realm and began to query his nobles about how their fortunes had fared during the last year. 'Lord and king,' they said, 'your discernment has never been so good, never have you been so kind and amiable, and never more ready to spend your gain for the good of your people. In truth, your rule has never been better than this past year. Therefore, we thank you most heartily.'

  "'Oh, do not thank me,' replied Pwyll, 'rather thank the man who has accomplished these things in my place.' He saw their astonished looks and he began to tell them the entire story, saying, 'Here it is, just as it happened.'

  "And thus, because of his living in the Otherworld for a year and ruling it so successfully, and bringing the two realms together by virtue of his bravery and valor, he came to be called Pwyll Pen Annwfn, that is Pwyll, Head of the Otherworld, thenceforth.

  "Yet, though he was a young and comely king he had no queen. And he remembered the beautiful lady who had been his queen in the Otherworld and he pined for her, taking long walks in the lonely hills around his court.

  "One night just at twilight he was standing atop a mound gazing out over his realm when a man appeared to him and said, 'It is peculiar to this place that whosoever should sit on this mound shall undertake one of two things: either he will receive a grievous wound and die, or he will see a wonder.'

  "'Well, in my present state, I care not whether I live or die, but it might cheer me to see a wonder. Therefore, I will sit upon this mound, and come what may.'

  "Pwyll sat down and the man vanished, and he saw a woman mounted on a magnificent white horse, pale as the moon as it rises over the harvest fields. The woman was dressed in fine linen and silk of shining gold and was riding toward him at a slow and steady pace.

  "He went down from the mound to meet her, but when he reached the road at the bottom of the hill, she had gone far away from him. He pursued her as quickly as he could on foot, but the more he pursued the further away she got. He gave up in misery and returned to his caer.

  "But he thought about this woman all night long and he said to himself, 'Tomorrow evening I will sit once more upon the mound and I will bring the fastest horse in my kingdom.' He did that, and once more as he sat on the mound he saw the woman approaching. Pwyll leaped into the saddle and spurred the horse to meet her. Yet, even though the lady held her great steed to a slow and stately amble, when Pwyll reached the bottom of the hill she was already far away. The king's horse gave chase, and though it flew like the wind it did not avail him. For the faster he pursued her, the more distance lay between them.

  "Pwyll marvelled at this and said, 'By Lleu, it does no good to follow the lady. I know of no horse in the realm swifter than this one, yet I am no closer than when I began. There must be some mystery here.' And his heart filled with such misery that he cried out as one in pain, 'Maiden, for the sake of the man you love most, wait for me!'

  "Instantly the horsewoman stopped and turned to him, removing the silken veil from before her face. And she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld in mortal flesh, more fair than a whole spring full of flowers, than winter's first snow, than the sky of high summer, than the gold of autumn.

  "'Gladly will I wait for you,' she said, 'and it were better for your horse if you had asked it long ago.'

  "'My lady,' Pwyll said respectfully, 'whence do you come, and tell me, if you can, the nature of your journey.'

  "'Lord,' she replied in a most gentle manner, 'I journey on my errand and I am pleased to see you.'

  "'Then welcome to you,' Pwyll said, thinking that the beauty of all the maidens and ladies he had ever seen was ugliness next to her beauty. 'What, may I ask, is your errand?'

  "'Well you might ask. My principal quest was seeking you.'

  "Pwyll's heart leapt inside him. 'That is a most excellent quest in my estimation. But can you tell me who you are?'

  "'Can and will,' she said. 'I am Rhiannon, daughter of Hyfiadd Hen, and I am being given to a man against my will. For I have never desired any man until meeting you. And if you reject me now, I will never love anyone.'

  "Pwyll could not believe his ears. 'Fair creature,' he said, 'if I could choose from all the women in this world and any other, I would choose you always.'

  "The maiden smiled, and her eyes shone with such happiness that Pwyll thought his heart would break. 'Well, if that is your answer, let us make a tryst before I am given to this other man.'

  "'I will pledge whatever you want,' said Pwyll, 'and the sooner the better, I say.'

  "'Very well, lord,' the maiden replied, 'come to my father's court where there is to be a feast, and you can claim me there.'

  "'I will do it,' he promised, and returned to his court where he called his warband and together they rode out, reaching the court of Hyfiadd Hen just as night came on. Pwyll greeted Rhiannon and her father and said, 'Lord, let this be a wedding feast, for as king of this realm I claim your daughter for my wife if she will have me.'

  "Hyfiadd Hen frowned mightily, but said, 'Very well, so be it. I put this court at your disposal.'

  "'Let the feast begin,' said Pwyll, and he sat down with Rhiannon by his side.

  "But no sooner had they sat down than there arose a commotion outside and into the hall came a large, noble-looking fellow dressed in rich clothing. He came directly up to Pwyll and saluted him. 'Welcome to you, friend; find a place to sit.'

  "'I cannot,' replied the man. 'I am a suppliant and must do my business first.'

  "'You had better do it then.'

  "'As you say, lord, my business is with you; I have come for a request.'

  "'Ask it then, and if it is in my power I will grant it gladly, for this is a joyous day for me.'

  "'No!' shouted Rhiannon. 'Oh, why did you respond so?'

  "'Och, he has already done so, and in the presence of the whole court,' said the stranger. 'He is honor-bound to grant my request.'

  "'Friend, if friend you are, tell me your request,' said Pwyll, feeling sick at heart.

  "'You, sire, are sleeping tonight with the woman I love most, and I ask for her to be my wife and for this feast to be my wedding feast!'

  "Pwyll fell silent. There was no answer he could give that would
not break his heart.

  "'Be silent as long as you like, my lord,' snapped Rhiannon angrily, 'there is only one answer to be given.'

  "'Lady," cried Pwyll piteously, 'I did not know who he was.'

  "'He is the man to whom they wanted to give me against my will,' she said. 'His name is Gwawl, son of Clud, and now you must honor your word lest some worse misfortune befall you.'

  "'How can I honor my word when it will kill me?'

  "'Perhaps there is a way,' she said and bent to whisper in his ear.

  "'I am growing old with waiting,' said Gwawl.

  "Pwyll's countenance brightened and he said, 'Wait no longer. Though it grieves me deeply, you shall have what you ask.' And he got up and left the hall with his host.

  "Gwawl laughed loudly and bragged, 'Surely, never has a man been more feeble-witted than him.' And he took Pwyll's place beside the fair Rhiannon saying, 'Let my wedding feast be served. Tonight I sleep with my bride.'

  "But before the feast could be served, a commotion arose in the back of the hall. 'Who is making such a disturbance?' demanded Gwawl. 'Bring him here so that I may deal with him.' And a man dressed all in wretched rags was dragged forward. 'Ha! Look at him,' said Gwawl. 'What are you doing here, beggar?'

  "'If if pleases you, lord, I have business with you,' replied the unfortunate one.

  "'What business can you have with me that the toe of my boot cannot discharge?'

  "'It is a reasonable request,' replied the ragged man, 'and one you can easily grant if you will: one small bag of food. I ask only from want.'

  "'You shall have it,' replied Gwawl haughtily. And he spied a small leather bag at Rhiannon's belt and snatched it up. 'Here is the bag,' he laughed, 'fill it as you will.'

  "Pwyll took the bag and began filling it. But no matter how much he put into the bag it grew no more full than before. Gwawl signaled impatiently to his servers, who arose and began stuffing food into the little bag, but it remained just as empty.

  "'Beggar, will your bag never be full?' asked Gwawl angrily.

  "'Never, until a lord rises up and tramples it down and cries, "Enough!"'

  "'Do it, Gwawl, and you will be finished with this business,' said Rhiannon.

  "'Gladly, if it will rid me of him.' Gwawl rose up and put his feet into the bag, and the beggar twisted it so that Gwawl fell head over heels into the bag, then closed it and tied the strings. Then from beneath his rags he produced a horn which he blew. Instantly the hall was filled with a fierce warband. The beggar threw off his rags and there stood Pwyll Pen Annwfn.

  "'Help me!' cried the man in the bag. "What is this game you are playing?'

  "'The game of badger-in-the-bag,' answered Pwyll, whereupon his men began striking the bag with kicks and blows.

  "'Lord,' said Gwawl, 'if you would listen to me, killing me inside this bag is no death for me.'

  "Hyfiadd Hen stepped forward much chagrined and said, 'He speaks the truth, lord; killing him inside a bag is no death for a man. Listen to him.'

  "'I am listening,' said Pwyll.

  "'Then allow me to sue for peace,' said Gwawl. 'State your terms and I will agree.'

  "'Very well, pledge to me that there shall never be redress nor vengeance for what has befallen you and your punishment shall end.'

  "'You have my pledge,' said the man in the bag.

  "'I accept it,' replied Pwyll and called to his men, 'Let him out.'

  "Thereupon Gwawl was released from the bag and he departed to his own realm. The hall was then prepared for Pwyll as before, and they all sat down to a wonderful wedding feast. They ate and reveled, and when it came time to go to sleep Pwyll and Rhiannon went to the bridal bed and spent the night in pleasure and contentment.

  "The next morning they returned to Caer Narberth where the feast continued for seven days with the best men and women in all the realm in attendance. And no one went away from the feast without being given some special gift, either a brooch or a ring or a precious stone.

  "So began the reign of Pwyll Pen Annwfn and Rhiannon, fairest of the fair, and so ends this branch of the Mabinogi."

  The last notes of the harp died away on the night air, and the bard bowed his head. The fires had dwindled and the torches burned low. Many people had wrapped themselves in skins and slept in their places, or had stretched out by the fire.

  "Well spoken, Hafgan," said Gwyddno, gazing sleepily at the huddled forms around him. "You are the best of bards. But no more tonight. Let us take our rest now, for the feast continues and we will hear another tale tomorrow night."

  With that, Gwyddno wrapped himself in a skin, curled up by the fire, and went to sleep. Elphin and Rhonwyn rose from the table and, gathering their fawn skins, slipped quietly away to Gwyddno's house where they lay down together on a bed of clean rushes and fell asleep in each other's arms.

  NINE

  "IT IS LATE AND WE MUST TRAVEL EARLY," SAID SEITHENIN, his voice echoing slightly in the near-empty chamber. Heavy cyprus beams arched into the darkness overhead; the richly enameled walls glimmered in the light of brass hanging lamps, making the room appear filled with restless shadows. "Tell us what your divining has revealed."

  The three Magi stood before the king, dressed in the billowy vestments of their office: a long white alb cinched with a braided silver belt and covered by a sea-green chasuble edged in silver threadwork. Tall white cylinder-shaped hats covered their shaven heads. They raised their hands in the sign of the sun, thin smiles on their long faces. Avallach sat in a chair beside Seithenin; Annubi stood behind his master, hands resting on the back of the chair, eyes narrowed.

  "Sire," said the foremost Mage, "after reading the required texts in the temple, we have consulted among ourselves and find this to be a most favorable sign—an omen of great virtue, signaling prosperity and ascendancy for all who witnessed it."

  "Explain," said Seithenin. "I want to understand its significance more fully."

  "As you will, Highness," replied the Mage with a sour smile. "It is our opinion that the starfall represents the seed of heaven wherewith Cronus has impregnated Oceanus. The result will be the birth of a new age in which the Nine Kingdoms will rise to lead the world in grace and wisdom and power."

  "So be it," replied the other Magi, bowing, cylindrical hats bobbing once and again.

  "When will this take place?" asked Seithenin.

  "Soon, Highness. As in a human birth there will be accompanying signs by which we shall be able to tell more precisely the moment of its coming. And then we shall announce the birth to the people."

  Seithenin glanced at Avallach and said, "Please, speak if you have a mind to. I see that you are displeased."

  "You are perceptive, Seithenin," Avallach replied. "I am displeased, it is true. And the reason is this: I am persuaded that the sign portends nothing half so pleasant as we have heard from these learned men. It is, rather, an omen of most dire circumstance." He challenged the Magi directly. "What do you say to that?"

  The Magi bristled at this affront to their art, puffing out their cheeks. "What would be the source of your information?" asked the foremost Mage, glancing at Annubi. The sneer in his voice was subtle.

  Avallach glared but did not rise to the insult. "I am waiting for your answer."

  The three put their heads together and mumbled the matter over to themselves. At length they turned and their leader replied, "It is difficult, Sire, to explain to one untrained in the prophetic arts."

  "Try me. I think you will find me most astute," Avallach said. "At least, I will not be dissuaded so easily."

  The Mage mouthed a silent oath but launched into his explanation. "It is recognized among the wise that of all signs of earth and sky, the omens of stars are most potent. We know that the heavenly houses through which the stars move in their courses—"

  "Yes, yes," said Avallach impatiently. "Get on with it. I am not stupid."

  "To put it simply, the heavens may be said to represent that perfect order toward which all things o
n earth tend. Thus, as the stars fell from the House of Opportunity, passing through the House of Kings, we should expect to see increased fortune—especially for those of royal birth. When kings prosper, it follows that their kingdoms prosper. Star-falls are always highly propitious. There are precedents in the sacred texts—too numerous to mention, unfortunately—which bear out our opinion." The Mage spread his hands to show that any right-thinking man would find this explanation satisfactory, if not self-evident.

  Avallach was not so quickly convinced. "It is also true, is it not, that the sign for opportunity has a twin?"

  The Mage appeared surprised. "Why, yes, of course. Many signs have paired interpretations."

  "And is it not true that the twin of opportunity is danger?"

  "This is true."

  "In fact, is it not true that the sign for danger and opportunity are exactly the same?"

  "They are twins, Sire. Yes."

  "Not twins," Avallach insisted. "The same sign."

  "It is so," allowed the Mage cautiously. "But the sacred texts are clear: this is to be regarded as propitious manifestation."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because it always is."

  "You mean because nothing evil has ever issued from such an omen."

  "Precisely," replied the Mage. His colleagues nodded in smug self-assurance.

  "I have always thought it unwise to believe something will not happen simply because it has never happened before. Does nothing ever occur for the first time?"

  The Mage sputtered and appealed to Seithenin for help. "Sire, if you are displeased with our service, please send us away. But I assure you we have studied this matter most completely and carefully."

  Seithenin raised a hand soothingly. "For my part, I am not displeased. But perhaps you will wish to look into the question Avallach has introduced, eh? Further inquiry would do no harm."

  "As you wish," said the Mage. All three turned as one and walked from the chamber, the air crackling with their resentment.

  When they had gone, Seithenin turned to Avallach and said, "What you say has merit, certainly. But I am content. I see no reason to dispute the wisdom of the Magi in this matter."