Preparations
Owain slept that night in a small room off his mother's quarters. With the Llys so full of visitors, he realised now what difficulties there had been in finding him anywhere at all close to his mother - but she had made the effort to provide him with a bed.
The party had carried on till late, and it was only when Brecca insisted that Olwen should be in bed that they finally left the hall, with Owain tagging along because he wasn't entirely sure where his mother's quarters were. Everyone in the hall had seemed to be determined that Ianto would not spoil the party, and there were still plenty of hard core drinkers there when Owain left.
There were more clothes the next morning, laid out on the bed by Nidan, who had spent the night on a pallet in the same small room. Owain put on a linen undershirt, and a dark red wool tunic with a little blue braiding, over blue trousers. There was a plain brown belt and pouch, too, but he transferred the decorated green scabbard to it, because there was only on bronze dagger. he left Nidan folding the silks. He and his mother were summoned to Morwenna's tower.
The old woman was already there, sitting on the window seat, her white hair immaculate in the gusty breeze. Beside her, Gwalchmai was sitting in a high backed chair, his broken ankle propped up on a cushioned stool. He kept looking up at the rafters suspiciously as he sipped small ale from a wooden mug.
There were more mugs and a jug of ale on the side table, along with scones, and cream and jam. Porec and Aidan were already helping themselves when Brecca and Owain arrived. The yspridwch Glynis was sitting on a high stool near the door with her staff balanced casually against her shoulder as she ate. Liam was sitting in another high backed chair, his knees apart, thoughtfully consuming a plateful of scones one by one. Sitting in a corner, looking rather out of her depth, was Lady Iona Terrwyn. Owain went for the food first, and then found a stool.
"Last night was one thing," Morwenna said. On the way to the tower, they had all seen Ianto's people packing a wagon outside the guest quarters. "This morning, we have other business. We have a score to settle with the corsairs. Our honour as a Family demands that we take action, for those who were killed, and those who survived." She nodded slightly in Owain's direction. "It may not be possible to trace those who were taken as slaves, but we can at least make the attempt."
"You know I agree, mother," Liam said, around a mouthful of scone. "I have two ships in harbour at the moment that are at your disposal. They can be ready to sail whenever you like."
"On behalf of the Ard Ri," Lady Iona said, "I must stress that, should the Duke de Moissac make any complaint, this is a purely private matter and has nothing to do with the Ard Ri. If anything should go wrong, we would disclaim all knowledge of the participants in this raid."
"We don't want to start another war," Morwenna said tartly. "We just want to sort out this troublemaker. He will regret ever raiding the coasts of Ytir. It has nothing to do with de Moissac - apart from making clear just how useless the young puppy is."
"I have a ship, as well," Brecca said. "Rhys Gronw has already pledged to provide more oarsmen for her, and she can be at Aberllong in two days, if I send for her now. Lord Rhys will be accompanying us, for the sake of his son Ferdia, and I will be commanding personally."
"I give you also Glynis," Morwenna said. "You will need her, with this Kofi fellow on the island. And Aidan will be in overall command. That is acceptable to you, Liam?"
Liam nodded. "He's a sensible young man. I trust him not to wreck any of my property."
"We will need Owain, too," Aidan said, turning to speak directly to him. "Gwalchmai speaks Turkic, but he's not really fit enough to travel, and you speak the language, and you also know all the corsairs by sight."
Owain stared at Aidan, his scone forgotten in his hand, and his mouth hanging open. "You - you're going to attack the island? Because of me? Three ships?" he stammered. "I'm not worth all this."
Morwenna glared at Owain. "Don't ever say anything so stupid in my presence again," she snapped. "If you were the lowest pig boy on my poorest Dun, still I would exact vengeance against the pirates for what they have done to you. But you are my grandson! Never forget that - never! How much more, then, should I want revenge against them? We will wipe them from that island utterly, and I shall have their captain's skull fashioned into a drinking goblet for the insult they have given our family." She paused for breath, her knuckles white on the handle of her walking stick.
"We do need to contact Sir Bernard Lansargues," Gwalchmai said. "He wants to get rid of the corsairs, if de Moissac doesn't. It was his manor, after all."
"I may have to forego the pleasure of having the Bey's skull made into a drinking cup, too," Morwenna said dryly, "if we're being realistic. I understand that the Amir of Kharazan his cousin is very anxious to meet him again, a feeling that is not reciprocated by the Bey. Or so the seagulls tell me," she added with a faint hint of amusement.
"I knew there had to be some reason for such elaborate magical defences for the island," Gwalchmai said. "Just being so remote would normally be enough for ordinary pirates, but to make an entire island permanently invisible there has to be a pressing reason for it."
"The Amir wants his head on a spike," Liam said casually. "Shortly, we will be in a position to grant his wish. It'll be good for trade between our two countries if we can do such a great favour for him, and todo it at the same time as we exact our private revenge -" He beamed suddenly. "It's magnificent," he said, "when two aims come together to so happy a resolution."
"It will have to be quick," Owain said suddenly. Liam turned to look at him with a quizzical expression. Everyone else in the room had turned to look at him as well. He wished, momentarily, for the floor to open up and swallow him.
"Well, explain yourself, boy," Morwenna prompted.
"It's just that - all the corsairs stay on the island over the winter, but after the spring tides, they start going out again, raiding. It's - I've lost track of the time - have we had the equinox yet? Because if we have, and we want to catch them all...." He ducked his head down, full of embarrassment - at having spoken at all, at having forgotten which month of the year it was....
"Then we must move quickly," Morwenna said crisply. "A pity - I had hoped to have more ships ready to go. See to it, Aidan."
Owain was very quiet on the way back to his mother's quarters. It was a relief, in a way, that all this effort, almost a fully fledged invasion fleet, was not just for his benefit, but for Uncle Liam's trade interests as well. He had been too young to appreciate, when he was last at Ravenscar, what a wily politician Morwenna was. She had sixty years of experience, after all. And he should have guessed that Liam Tir Bran would not stir out of his citadel just to welcome a half-remembered nephew home. Trade with Kharazan would be a much more pressing matter as far as he was concerned - that, and the honour of the Family. What did worry Owain, as the idea gradually sank in, was that they wanted him to go with them, back to the island, to face the men who had been his masters - he counted back on his fingers - not more than three weeks ago.
He didn't have time to think about it. As he followed his mother across the grass between the tower and the main range of buildings, he caught sight of Devorgilla and Tegau and Caradog, standing by their two small carts and looking as if they didn't know what to do next. he hobbled across to them. Now he was wearing the gold torc, he saw, it changed things. Caradog pretended to be doing something with the horse harness, Tegau dropped a nervous curtsey to him, but Devorgilla held out her hand to him. She looked more confident after last night - and they were all under the wings of the Raven clan together, copper and gold torcs alike. But she still looked a little bit lost in this warren of stone buildings and courtyards. They all did.
"I suppose you'll be going home soon," Owain said.
Devorgilla nodded. "First, the Lady promised us a reward for bringing you and the Harper back here," she said, "whatever we needed for the Dun
that will fit on our carts. But the steward disappeared...."
"Do you need any help?" Owain asked. "Shall I tell them what you need?"
"That would be a kindness," Devorgilla said. "I think he went into the kitchens...."
Owain led them round to the kitchen door and peered inside. Everyone he could see looked very busy, and it was hard to catch anyone's eye. Then he saw a man in Morwenna's grey livery coming towards them. "Ah, you're here, headwoman - and, my lord Owain," he bowed smoothly. "I was just discussing with Lord Porec what we can give these good people."
"I know what they need," Owain said. "Bread flour, to start with - not grain; that's just making extra work for them. Some barley would be good, too. And fuel - they have to be very careful with their wood, so some coal or peat would be welcome." While he was speaking, a couple of servants appeared at the steward's elbow. The steward sent them off in different directions and, while they were gone, Owain racked his brains to think of other things that would be useful to the Dun.
"Blankets - lots of blankets," he said, glancing across to Devorgilla for confirmation. "And cloth - they all need new clothes. And soap. Tools, too - if you've got any mattocks, or hoes or spades. And a sheaf of hunting arrows - I suppose you have enough bows?" he added, to Caradog. He nodded. Then Tegau said, hesitantly, "Could we have some goose feathers, to mend our old arrows?"
"Anything else?" the steward asked.
"Oh, yes," Owain said, quite cheerfully. He was getting into the swing of it now. "How about a breeding pair of piglets, Devorgilla? And a couple of geese?"
"We would have to collect those from the home farm, my lord," the steward said, neutrally. "We will, however, leave room in the cart for the cages."
The carts were filling up quite nicely now, with servants coming from all directions with bundles and sacks to load into them.
"And seeds? Maybe a sack of seed barley, and some beans?"
"Again, the home farm can provide that," said the steward. "We will take you there, when you are finished here."
"I knew we could rely on the Lady to be generous," Devorgilla said, beaming.
A man in a leather apron approached the carts, carrying a small box. "I hear these are the people who brought the Harper back," he said. "I've been having a clear out of my workshop," he went on. "These leather needles and punches any use to you? I was only going to throw them out."
Tegau nearly snatched the box, stammering her thanks.
Owain looked at the piles of bundles and sacks in the carts, and felt well satisfied. Things would be better at the Dun now - Aunt Generys, he was sure, would be a fair Lady to these people.
Devorgilla took his hand, and he helped her up to the driving seat of the cart. "It was a good day for Dun Darren Isaf when you came walking through our gates," she said. "You will not be forgotten."
And that, really, made it all seem worthwhile.
When they all came out of the hall after lunch, it seemed that the stables had been emptied - the big courtyard was full of riding horses.
"Where are we going?" Owain asked. He hoped it wouldn't be too far.
"Can't you guess?" Brecca led him to the mounting block, and held his crutch for him while he mounted up. Then she adjusted the stirrup to suit his bad leg herself. "Poor Peredur has waited long enough for a proper burial. Generys got all this organised this morning, while the rest of us were in conference. We're going to the Barrows."
Over by the gates, Owain could see the cart now, swathed with grey silk and swags of evergreen foliage. He could also smell the strong spicy scent of it - and under that, the smell of decaying human flesh. Just behind the bier, Generys sat a tall chestnut filly. Beside her was a man Owain didn't recognise. "That's Taran, Peredur's father," Brecca said. "Generys' first husband. And the other two are her second and third, with all their children. They came through Portals this morning - Glynis Aide brought them through. Generys came on her own to Ravenscar, just to humour mother. None of us knew what was going to happen."
"Is Uncle Ianto gone, then?" Olwen asked, from behind them.
"If he hadn't gone by now," Brecca said grimly, "we'd be riding past his severed head on a spike over the gate. That's how seriously mother took this whole affair. Honestly, exiling him was letting him off lightly."
They were riding out of Ravenscar in a long column now, heading inland towards a wooded hill in the distance. Olwen craned round in her saddle, just to make sure there were no heads adorning the gateposts.
"And if I had my way," Brecca went on savagely, "Rhianmelt's head would have been up there with him. If she'd been brazen enough to come to Ravenscar, I would have killed her myself."
"So - where is she then?" Owain asked. "Do we know?"
"Heading off into exile with Ianto, I devoutly hope and wish," Brecca said. "There's no place for her in Ytir any more. And I wish them both joy of each other."
As they got closer to Branlow, they could see the ravens flying up from the woodlands - more than would ever have been there naturally. They didn't flock, like jackdaws, except here, in the place that took their name - Bran was the ancient word for Raven.
At the foot of the hill there was a little college of priests, wooden halls bounded by a low bank, and close to the college, the barrows of the Raven clan, all of Owain's ancestors going back for a thousand years or more.
The priests were waiting for them, in the hornwork at the end of a newly re-opened long barrow, black as ravens themselves in their robes of office. Somewhere close by, and unseen, there were drummers, beating out a rhythm that resonated down to the bone.
They left the horses a little way outside the barrowfield, except for the litter Morwenna was riding in. Liam heaved himself down from his huge gelding and led the horselitter himself. Generys' husbands and children gathered round the coffin to carry it to the entrance to the barrow, and all the rest of the family fell into step behind them. It was nearly sunset. The family spread out around the entrance to the barrow, and waited. Behind them, on the open moorland, Owain could see servants putting up tents and lighting fires.
By the time the sun's disc had touched the horizon over the hilltop, the priests had opened the coffin and chanted the poems that would open Peredur's path to the Summerlands. The drummers had dropped into a steady heartbeat rhythm - and they waited. From the crest of the hill, with a cloud of ravens wheeling around it, a rainbow pathway seemed to stretch from the sun to the body in front of the barrow. As the sun sank, anyone squinting along that path might have seen a hazy figure, lingering at first to say goodbye - then moving more swiftly towards the West and the setting sun and the merest hint of a land beyond that, green and warm and ever joyful - until the sun sank behind the hill, and the watching family blinked their dazzled eyes in the twilight, and the spirit of Peredur was gone.
Generys walked forward then and put one hand on the body of her son.
Silence - this was not part of the usual ceremony. "On my son's body," Generys said, her voice carrying to the furthest reaches of the crowd, "I curse my brother Ianto for the crime of kin-murder. May he never find a place to rest in his exile, as he denied Peredur rest. May Taranis and Toutates and Esus, and the Goddess over them all, witness to this and grant it."
She turned then, and walked through the crowd of her kin folk without speaking, to where the tents had been put up.
The torches were lit then, and the priests took the body into the barrow, while the drumming started up again and everyone there sang the Farewell. By the time that was over, and darkness was falling in earnest, a buffet supper had been laid out at the tents, and the wagon with the beer barrels had been brought up.
It was the first time Owain had been able to mingle freely with his cousins and uncles and aunts - at the feast he'd been on the dais, away from everyone else, but now they were all sitting on the ground around him, looking up at the moon rising, and talking about Peredur, and horses, and ships, as if he'd
never been away.
The beer flowed freely - and Generys and Taran, at least, looked determined to get very, very drunk. Morwenna sat in state outside her tent - not the biggest, but the one with the Raven banner outside - long enough to drink a goblet of dark beer and eat a modest supper before she retired. Owain found himself sitting by a fire with a drinking horn in one hand and a chicken leg in the other, discussing the differences between Tirage longships and Turkic lateen sailing rigs in exhaustive detail with cousin Drustic and Aunt Hennin.
When Owain woke the next morning, he had only dim memories of the latter part of the evening - and a sore head. He remembered a moment, very clearly, when he could choose to either walk across to the beer wagon and fill his drinking horn again, or to finish the conversation with cousin Eileen and go to bed. He knew he should have finished talking to Eileen about the hot springs on one of the Koine islands, and he distinctly remembered staggering back to the beer wagon at least twice after that. And - he winced, remembering - there had been singing, with Drustic and Eileen and cousin Porec. He remembered leaning heavily on cousin Porec on the way back to the tent, but he didn't remember getting there or finding his bed.
"I've been up for ages," Olwen said brightly, just behind him.
Owain winced.
"Does your head hurt? Serve you right," she continued cheerfully. "Come on, they'll want to take the tent down soon, and there's still some breakfast, and I want to show you something."
Owain groaned. Breakfast was the last thing on his mind.
"Drink some water, anyway," said Brecca, who looked pale and just a little bit fragile herself. She gave Owain the flagon that she had been drinking from, and waited to be sure that he took a good few swigs of it. "I ended up looking after Generys. After that curse, she more or less fell to pieces. But it's over now. Go with Olwen. Do your duty."
"Duty?" Owain followed Olwen out of the tent. The sunlight was painfully bright.
"Of course. To Father. I don't suppose you brought anything?"
"I didn't even know we were coming until we were mounting up," Owain said. Now he was moving about he didn't feel quite so bad.
"We can go up to the wood first then," Olwen said. "There's bound to be something we can give him."
It was dimmer, under the canopy of new leaves, and Olwen picked wood anenomes as they walked slowly up the path, and made them into a garland. "I always give him white flowers," she said, "because of my name. I know he's gone to the Summerlands, but I'm sure he knows when we remember him."
Owain remembered; his mother pregnant, his father placing his hand over the bump and saying "Olwen of the White Path, with white flowers springing up everywhere she stepped," and his mother laughing and calling him a romantic idiot - and calling the baby Olwen even so.
"Where's the stream?" he asked. "I remember a stream."
"This way." Olwen led the way around the foot of the hill, to where a narrow stream flowed over a little rocky waterfall into a pool. Owain splashed some water over his face - he was starting to feel more human now - and searched around until he found a quartz pebble at the edge of the water.
"There are quartz pebbles on Pensarn Beach," he said. "That's the first thing I always remember about him, before I can remember the good times." He remembered the blood. He started to see the blood being washed from the stones by the clean water. he clenched the pebble in his hand. "This is the right thing," he said.
They walked down to the barrows, taking their time. They reached the barrow they had been standing around last night - where Peredur was buried, and where Eryl was buried, and the men and women of the Raven clan who had died between their two deaths, and before them. The door had been sealed again already, and there was a small stone table to one side for offerings. Owain put the pebble down, and Olwen arranged her garland around it, and then they came away.
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Raven's Heirs Page 11