who would make the judgment.
“Did you Wind-Speak to the Master Bard about this, Talhearn?” Lludd asked.
“I did, my Prince. And he relayed the message to the Ardewin.”
“What did she say?”
“Elstar said that Llwyd Cilcoed has hidden himself in villages for the last few years, avoiding capture by the enemy, and most likely unaware that the Dewin were watching him. She says he is the kind of man who plays his own game and no one else’s. She counsels that, if you let him live, keep a close eye on him.”
“And does she say I should let him live?”
“She says she relinquishes that decision to the Prince of Ederynion.”
“I see,” Lludd said quietly. “Well, then, Llwyd Cilcoed, here is my judgment. In the memory of my mother, who once loved you, you may live.”
“Lludd! How could you—” Angharad began hotly, but subsided as Lludd held up his hand for silence.
“cicson. Then she will be the one to pass final judgment on you,” Lludd continued. “I believe that you wish the enemy gone, for they have made your life uncomfortable, and comfort was always your aim. I believe that you are not a spy. I believe that you do not have a plan to betray us—yet. But you will be watched very closely, all the same, for I do not believe you to be trustworthy. In time you may earn that trust. And there is always need for another Dewin among the Cerddorian.”
“Any oaths you require, Prince Lludd, I will make to you,” Llwyd Cilcoed said eagerly.
“I do not take oaths in my name,” Lludd said fiercely. “My sister is the true ruler of Ederynion. One day we shall free her, and then you may make an oath to her.”
“If she will accept it,” Angharad said.
“As I said, Dewin, you will be watched,” Lludd went on. “The person I will appoint to guard you will be required to watch you closely. This means that you must accompany them wherever they go. You will be able to test your newfound bravery over and over again, for your guard will go to many dangerous places. And the gods help you should you not pull your weight. You will have to, if you wish to come back alive.”
Talhearn began to smile. He knew who the Dewin’s guard would be.
“Angharad,” Lludd said with a gracious gesture, “I give this task to you.”
Slowly, Angharad smiled at Llwyd Cilcoed’s horrified dawning expression.
After the evening meal was over, Talhearn withdrew from the celebrating warriors and made his way to a small clearing nearby. A tiny fire burned in the center of the clearing. Talhearn settled himself on a log by the fire, unslung his harp, and waited for the others. Idly, he began to strum an old tune.
“They sing after thy song, The Kymri in their grief
,
On account of their loss
.
Long is the cry of sorrow. There is blood upon the spears
,
The waves are bearing
Ships upon the sea.”
“That’s appropriate,” Lludd said heavily as he sat down. “Do you think he knew?”
“Taliesin wrote this two hundred years ago. He was no Dreamer, but he knew Bran the Dreamer well. Yes, I think he knew. I think they all did, the Great Ones of High King Lleu.”
“Which was why they hid the Treasures?”
“It is well they are hidden. At least the Coranians do not have them, and so Cadair Idris remains closed to them.”
“Tell me, Talhearn. Do you believe what Gwydion ap Awst wrote to us? Do you believe that the High King will come again?”
Talhearn nodded. “Yes, lad, I do.”
“Sometimes I am not sure I believe it anymore.”
“Believe it,” Angharad said as she came into the clearing. “Two years ago I saw Arderydd when I, too, doubted.”
“The High Eagle came to you?” Lludd asked in awe.
She sat down on the ground, tucking her long legs beneath her. “It could not have been long after he defied the enemy at Cadair Idris.”
“And took Sledda’s eye,” Talhearn reminded them with a grin. “I wish I had seen that.”
“I wish I had done that,” Lludd muttered. “I
“Did you Wind-Speak to the Master Bard about this, Talhearn?” Lludd asked.
“I did, my Prince. And he relayed the message to the Ardewin.”
“What did she say?”
“Elstar said that Llwyd Cilcoed has hidden himself in villages for the last few years, avoiding capture by the enemy, and most likely unaware that the Dewin were watching him. She says he is the kind of man who plays his own game and no one else’s. She counsels that, if you let him live, keep a close eye on him.”
“And does she say I should let him live?”
“She says she relinquishes that decision to the Prince of Ederynion.”
“I see,” Lludd said quietly. “Well, then, Llwyd Cilcoed, here is my judgment. In the memory of my mother, who once loved you, you may live.”
“Lludd! How could you—” Angharad began hotly, but subsided as Lludd held up his hand for silence.
“cicson. Then she will be the one to pass final judgment on you,” Lludd continued. “I believe that you wish the enemy gone, for they have made your life uncomfortable, and comfort was always your aim. I believe that you are not a spy. I believe that you do not have a plan to betray us—yet. But you will be watched very closely, all the same, for I do not believe you to be trustworthy. In time you may earn that trust. And there is always need for another Dewin among the Cerddorian.”
“Any oaths you require, Prince Lludd, I will make to you,” Llwyd Cilcoed said eagerly.
“I do not take oaths in my name,” Lludd said fiercely. “My sister is the true ruler of Ederynion. One day we shall free her, and then you may make an oath to her.”
“If she will accept it,” Angharad said.
“As I said, Dewin, you will be watched,” Lludd went on. “The person I will appoint to guard you will be required to watch you closely. This means that you must accompany them wherever they go. You will be able to test your newfound bravery over and over again, for your guard will go to many dangerous places. And the gods help you should you not pull your weight. You will have to, if you wish to come back alive.”
Talhearn began to smile. He knew who the Dewin’s guard would be.
“Angharad,” Lludd said with a gracious gesture, “I give this task to you.”
Slowly, Angharad smiled at Llwyd Cilcoed’s horrified dawning expression.
After the evening meal was over, Talhearn withdrew from the celebrating warriors and made his way to a small clearing nearby. A tiny fire burned in the center of the clearing. Talhearn settled himself on a log by the fire, unslung his harp, and waited for the others. Idly, he began to strum an old tune.
“They sing after thy song, The Kymri in their grief
,
On account of their loss
.
Long is the cry of sorrow. There is blood upon the spears
,
The waves are bearing
Ships upon the sea.”
“That’s appropriate,” Lludd said heavily as he sat down. “Do you think he knew?”
“Taliesin wrote this two hundred years ago. He was no Dreamer, but he knew Bran the Dreamer well. Yes, I think he knew. I think they all did, the Great Ones of High King Lleu.”
“Which was why they hid the Treasures?”
“It is well they are hidden. At least the Coranians do not have them, and so Cadair Idris remains closed to them.”
“Tell me, Talhearn. Do you believe what Gwydion ap Awst wrote to us? Do you believe that the High King will come again?”
Talhearn nodded. “Yes, lad, I do.”
“Sometimes I am not sure I believe it anymore.”
“Believe it,” Angharad said as she came into the clearing. “Two years ago I saw Arderydd when I, too, doubted.”
“The High Eagle came to you?” Lludd asked in awe.
She sat down on the ground, tucking her long legs beneath her. “It could not have been long after he defied the enemy at Cadair Idris.”
“And took Sledda’s eye,” Talhearn reminded them with a grin. “I wish I had seen that.”
“I wish I had done that,” Lludd muttered. “I
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