"And the Great Seal?"
Aeron glanced down at the big emerald on her left hand. "That--shall remain on my finger a while yet. I have a thought as to that... But, Gwydion, I beg you be swift. I do not want the First Lord of War cut off in the north by the Imperial advance. If you take my ship Retaliator, you can be there and back at Caerdroia by sunrise, when with luck the rest of us shall be there as well." She looked at the crown. "I do not wish to do this thing," she said then.
"You have no choice, Ard-rian," said Kynvael at once.
"No more do I," she agreed with a bitter laugh. "For was it not laid upon me by Kynon of Ruabon? The first particular of his curse has already fulfilled itself: He cursed my crown from my head, and so it now is. Recall you the rest of his doom?"
"I remember it not," lied Morwen desperately.
"Do you not? I remember well. Next he cursed my lord from my bed, and last he bade the Shining Ones ride to war--a thing most unlikely of fulfillment--before I reign again as Queen in Caerdroia. I have only to wait."
"If that be so, Aeron," said Morwen, "then take comfort, for in the conceit of his malice he has promised that you shall reign again as Queen. In his folly and his mockery he named it as part of the curse, and so it will be as fated as the rest of it. Doubt it not."
Aeron made no reply, but with sudden decision closed the casket lid and fastened the heavy silver clasps. She picked it up and held it out to Gwydion.
"Gods with you, beloved," she said softly. "Greet the Shining Ones well from me."
He took the heavy casket from her hands. "They will guard it safe for you; none better."
"Aye, well, see that you guard yourself as closely; you are rather dearer to me than a piece of copper, however hallowed... And to that end there is another thing I would have you take with you--but to wear, not to leave." She had in her hands another scrap of the same worn purple velvet that had wrapped the crown. This piece, however, swathed something if less royal perhaps even more magical.
"The cathbarr of Nia the Golden," breathed Morwen.
Aeron had unwrapped the velvet to reveal a fillet of ancient silver knotwork set round with elvish crystals; an heirloom indeed, and one even she both loved and feared to wear. It had been a marriage-gift long since from the Sidhe themselves, given to Nia mother of Brendan, and passed down in Brendan's line for three thousand years.
"Older than all the crown jewels; older even than the Copper Crown itself, maybe." Aeron raised it in her hands, and Gwydion bent his dark head so that she might set the silver circlet upon his brow.
"It fits my lord!" Kynvael was startled into unsoldierly amazement.
"It fits any who wears it," said Aeron. "That is its nature, and its purpose... I would have you wear it--Prince of Gwynedd, King of Keltia--in token of the long kinship of the Houses of Don and Dana with the folk of the duns; and as protection also. There is great virtue in the cathbarr of Nia. Protection there is in your sword and your rank and your art, right enough, but I would take no chances. I would have you come back yet yourself, and no changeling from under the hill."
For the first time since he had entered the grianan, Gwydion smiled, and then grew as quickly grave again, and raised her hand to his lips.
"Look for me at Caerdroia."
*
Though the retreat to Caerdroia had begun almost as soon as Aeron's command was given to Rioghnach the night before, the Keltic armies were slow to get on the move.
The invading forces, however, were moving toward the City more slowly still, for the terrain was unfamiliar, the glens hostile with folk who had remained to defend their places, and the baggage trains burdened with many wounded.
The Fomori had overrun Ath-na-forair as the Kelts retreated, and in their tents was no joy. Here it was that the news had been brought to Elathan of his sudden elevation to the kingship, and none had seen him since. He had received the news in silence, given orders that his father's body be brought back to the encampment, and then he had withdrawn to his own tent and his own thought. Even Talorcan had been denied access to his half-brother.
Elathan sat slumped in his chair, as he had for the past two hours and more. He knew very well that outside the tent the demands of his new position were mounting hourly, but he could not seem to summon the energy to rise and go out to deal with them.
His father was dead, and he was now King of Fomor. He had known always that this moment would come, but the long knowing did not make the present living of it any less difficult. What troubled him most, strangely and unexpectedly, was that his mother could not know. The Curtain Wall still blocked transmissions where it remained intact, and where it did not, the Keltic fleet had jammed all frequencies. No word of the war could reach the outside worlds.
So Basilea would not know she was a widow, and Camissa would not know that her betrothed was now her King--Elathan ran his hands over his face. Was this then how Aeron had felt, when she had become Queen Aeron? He made a sound that under any other circumstances would have been a laugh. Bres had made Aeron a queen, and now she had returned the favor, making Bres's son a king...
There was a commotion before his tent, then the tent flap was pulled back and Jaun Akhera entered. He was clad in dusty armor, and his black hair was disarrayed, but his smile was wide and joyful and for once utterly unfeigned. Elathan did not rise to greet him.
"Hail, King of Fomor!" Jaun Akhera dropped his cloak on a chair and sat down across the table from Elathan. "I heard the news last night, and came as soon as the army was well on the move. So Bres's great feud with Aeron is ended; though I hear he nearly ended Aeron too... I am sorry for your loss," he added, almost perfunctorily. "But I am sure you will understand me, Elathan, when I say that your accession argues nothing but good for our enterprise and our association--and our friendship."
Elathan looked at him darkly. "I understand you very well indeed," he said. "So that I know you will in your turn understand why I do what I do now. " He raised his voice only a little. "Fetch my brother the Lord Talorcan and the war leaders Brudei and Salenn." The guard saluted and left.
Jaun Akhera frowned. "What is this?"
Elathan barely glanced at him. "I take my army home to Fomor," he said, "with the body of my father. I will fight no more with the House of Aoibhell."
*
Gwydion alighted from the sleek silver aircar--he had not flown Aeron's ship Retaliator after all; an anonymous aircar would attract less attention, and far fewer laser bolts, than the Keltic Queen's personal ship, which was, after all, well known by sight to the Fomori at least.
He looked up at the great gray mountain before him, the Hill of Fare, in whose depths was the Sidhe stronghold of Dun Aengus. It was one of the few known dwelling-places of the Shining Ones; as a rule they did not care to advertise to mortals the whereabouts of their duns. But Dun Aengus was a place famed in legend as the chief seat of the Sidhe rulers, and it had seemed the best place for Gwydion's errand.
As he scanned the blank rocky face of the cliff, the ground began to rumble, the vibration faint at first, on the far edge of sensation, then quickly rising to a roar that shook the mountain. Gwydion felt himself trembling from head to foot. Then he mastered his fear, and straightened.
The vibration boomed and died away, and then with no sound at all the hillside opened, light pouring out to lap like a silver streamlet at Gwydion's boots. Music--a dancing-tune, harmonious and rhythmic, utterly enchanting--came from the depths of the hill, and he knew that the palace of the Sidhe stood open for him, that he was bidden enter. He set his foot on the broad smooth stair that now was where no stair had been a moment ago, and went in at the huge green doors.
He paused on the threshold of a great hall, dazzled by the light and music, aware of the gaze of many eyes and none of them human; but not so dazzled that he did not remember what it was he must now do... With some difficulty, for he was carrying the heavy casket containing the crown, he drew his sgian from his boot-top: the only iron upon him, the only
weapon he had carried, its short, sharp blade gleaming in the torchlight. He raised it in his hand, then drove it deep into the doorpost.
A sigh seemed to go round the hall, then the music began, merrier even than before, and a young man clad all in red came forward.
"Hail, stranger!" he cried, his face both bright and curious, and he bowed to Gwydion.
Cumbered as he was with the casket, Gwydion bowed in return as best he might.
"Hail, lord," he said. "I am Gwydion ap Arawn, Chief of the House of Don, and a kinsman to your folk."
"So we know, and that which you bear upon your brow gives the proof to your words... Your errand also is known to us," he added. "But I am Allyn son of Midna; allow me of your grace to make you known to our lord." He gestured, and Gwydion followed him into the deeps of the dun.
*
"Before we begin our own retreat," began Morwen hesitantly, "Gwydion has charged me say this to you, Aeron: Will you consider flight for your own safety's sake?"
Aeron stared at her friend and minister, astonished and feeling somehow betrayed.
"Flight! The Prince of Don would have me flee the planet?"
"Not he alone, Aeron." Desmond, who had been sitting silent by the fire, looked up at his cousin. "I do not love to say it, but many of the Fianna, also, think it would go better for you if you fled."
"You forget yourself, Elharn's son!" snapped Aeron.
He was unperturbed. "Not for a moment, Ard-rian. We who love you have thought much upon this."
"And you who say you love me would counsel me to the action of a coward? What kind of queen is it would flee her planet and leave her folk to the tender mercies of the Imperium?" She looked away, added in a lower voice, "Or leave you whom she says she loves to face Jaun Akhera when he learns of your hand in my escape? Never. I shall go to ground in Armoy, or in the Kyles of Ra, help the Fianna and the Dragon Kin to assemble a resistance, if it comes to that."
"Are you mad?" Rohan burst out. He had arrived in the night from the Firedrake, and in spite of his battle-weariness had ridden straight to Tomnahara. "The Fomori may have seen the wisdom of the road home, but Jaun Akhera still has more than seventy legions left on Tara. Every one of them has been ordered to take the Queen of Kelts at any cost, and when they catch you they will kill you. I have no great wish to become Ard-righ, my sister, so think of me if you will not think of yourself."
"Rohan speaks truth," said Morwen. "Jaun Akhera has set a price on your head of a million gold astari. No Kelt would touch a crossic of it, but I doubt if the Coranians will scruple so. Aeron, we have sent the Copper Crown to safety; if we take such care for the Crown, shall we take any less for the head that wears it?"
It was a powerful argument, and almost they thought they had reached her. But Aeron merely scowled and looked away.
"Morwen, you must go too," said Denzil Cameron into the charged little silence. Fergus, who had accompanied Rohan, looked up sharply in protest. "It must be so, mac Isla; she too is one of Jaun Akhera's chief quarries, and there is a price on her head also."
"Oh aye?" Morwen was all at once as indignant as Aeron had been. "And what of the rest of you? As Aeron has said, Jaun Akhera will never overlook your aiding of our escape--if escape there is to be. Further, all those in this room, and many who are not, are just as much enginers of this war as Aeron and myself. Do you even dream the Coranian will leave you free--or alive--to reconstruct a striking force?"
A smile tugged at Aeron's mouth. "Ah, now the boot is on the other leg, Lochcarron! And you seem to like the fit of it no more than I... Well, my friends, I shall consider what you have said, and give you an answer in good time."
"When?" pressed Denzil.
"Ad kalendas Graecas," said Aeron shortly, and turned the talk to other things.
"'At the Greek Kalends'?" murmured O'Reilly to Rohan. "When is that?"
"Never," said the Prince. "The Greeks had no Kalends."
*
Allyn son of Midna led Gwydion through the press of dancers in the crystal-roofed hall.
"This is a lesser and younger palace," he said. "Those who enter the Hill of Knockmaa come not again among men. Nay, fear not that," he added with a laugh. "Your iron in our door will keep that fate from you--though you might find it not so hard a doom as the one that now rides at your shoulder. Nor, very like, so high a one neither. But would you be less happy here with us?"
Gwydion, listening to the sounds of the revelry of the Sidhe, thought that he would surely die of the joy of it, and he could make no answer to his companion. For a bard and a musician, it was loveliness so complete as to be well-nigh unbearable, and he felt tears in his eyes as the music swirled about him. Somehow it sang to him of home, not Caerdroia nor yet Gwynedd, nor even Keltia itself, but home--
"So, tall lord?" cried one who looked a queen among them. "Will you not join our dance?"
It was all his bliss to join that dance, all that he had ever longed for, and he felt his entire being gather itself in a yearning sortie toward that bright circle. But the step died untaken even as he thought it, and he knew in that instant that he could not dance, not now. Someday, a dance for him; but not this dance, and so he smiled gently, ruefully, and raised his hand in denial.
"You must dance another measure, I think, before you dance with us," came the voice of Allyn from somewhere ahead of him. "But come."
Gwydion followed him into a chamber of such splendor that it could only be the throne-room of some king of the Shining Ones. And so it was, for a high seat was set at the far end, fair lords and fairer ladies thronging the steps around it. Their faces were turned to him in wonder, but he had eyes only for the one who sat in the throne beneath the golden canopy.
Stern of face he was, dark of hair and darker still of eye, and upon his brow was a circlet of silver twin to the one Gwydion bore, and had almost forgotten he did so, upon his own head.
As Allyn conducted him to the steps of the throne, Gwydion felt as Haruko had once said he had felt, entering the Hall of Heroes and seeing Aeron for the first time as Queen. But this lord of the Sidhe had a majesty no mortal monarch could hold, and when he came to the first of the steps to the throne Gwydion went to one knee before him.
The voice, deeper even than Gwydion's own, rolled out onto the air above his head.
"Welcome, Prince of the House of Don, to our halls. I am Gwyn son of Neith, and we are kin from afar. What would you of me?"
Gwydion lifted his head and looked the faerie King full in the face.
"In the name of Aeron Queen of Kelts, Empress of the West and Domina Bellorum, and in my name also," he said, in the bard-voice that carried easily without stress to all corners of the hall, "I have come to ask safekeeping for the Copper Crown of Keltia. There is war in the land, and a thing so precious should be surer kept than by our swords."
The dark eyes met his, and, mighty sorcerer though he was, Gwydion felt himself the veriest untaught child by comparison to the deeps that stood in the eyes of Gwyn.
"Aeron daughter of Dana is known to us, and she is beloved of the Lady whom she serves... This is no hard asking, lord." Gwyn rose, towering above the courtiers who surrounded the throne. "Yet to come here alone were brave--not often do our mortal kindred come as guests to our halls. Or do you fear you shall wake in the morning to find the world a different place, your kin and your friends dead a thousand years?" He smiled then, and Gwydion rose from his knee. "No matter. It is in my mind, Prince of Don, that we shall know each other better in time to come... soon, as you count the days."
He came down the steps, and, bending, took the casket from Gwydion's hands.
"This we shall keep safe and sacred," he said gravely. "Tell your lady so. And this is our further word to her: Bid Aeron remember Prydwen, and seek the Treasures that were lost. When time is, the Copper Crown shall come to her again, and she have help unlooked-for in the last battle. As to thee, son of Don, the very trees shall be thy warriors. We shall meet again, thou and I, at the p
lace called Nandruidion, and so that the moment be known, I give thee a token in pledge. The Queen of Kelts spoke true: This world is our home as much as it is yours, and we too shall fight to keep it safe."
Gwydion gasped. How could Gwyn, long leagues from Tomnahara, know the words spoken there days ago in private by Aeron? But he had no time to seek an answer; he felt his hand taken, something pressed into it, his fingers closed gently upon it. He saw nothing but the dark unknowable eyes of Gwyn, felt himself drawn into their incalculable depths, felt himself spinning, falling--a blur, a vibration--then the cold fresh wind of morning strong upon his face, and he alone upon the hillside in the winter dawn.
Alone, aye, but not empty-handed... Beside him on the ground lay the sgian he had thrust into the doorpost of the dun, as surety of his return to his own world, and upon his brow--he raised his fingers to touch it--the cathbarr of Nia still gleamed. But in his right hand...
He forced open fingers that had grown cramped and stiff in their unrelaxing grip. It was there, still in its proper form; it had not turned to dead leaves or dull pebbles, as the tales told all gifts of the Sidhe were wont to do, for no gift from the hand of Gwyn ever proved anything other than its true self.
Gwydion looked down at it with wonder: a small horn all of dull gold, wrought with great skill, coelbren letters carved upon its worn grip and a faded green silk baldric threaded through rings at mouthpiece and bell. He turned the horn one way and another, until the letters caught the light and blazed so that his eyes were dazzled. But for all his learning and lore, he could not read the writing on the horn.
He shivered suddenly, not entirely with the cold, then fastened the horn to his sword-belt and went down the hill toward his ship.
*
"I have to go too? Me?" O'Reilly was dismayed, and showed it.
The Copper Crown Page 35