High The Vanes (The Change Book 2) (8 page)

As the days passed, I grew to like him. Although he had many odd ways, and often seemed frightened or despairing, the more he told me about his life, the more I thought I understood these feelings. I also, mistakenly, began to assume that he liked me. On reflection, his apparent ‘friendliness’ probably sprang from acute loneliness. The chance to talk to another person after years of absolute silence must have been a huge relief.

I thought in those early days that he might have become a real friend. While I appreciated my relationship with Eluned, I could never count her as a true ‘friend’ since she always regarded me as her ‘mistress’. I recalled my arguing, all those years ago at Plas Maen Heledd, that she was my friend, adamant that our relationship was exactly that. The passing years had shown me that I was wrong to believe that. We had an enormously warm relationship, she would do literally anything for me, but I would hardly call her a ‘friend’ any longer.

My conversations with Nefyn were in fact opening my mind to the fact that I was as lonely as he was. Yes, I had a true, loyal and honest servant, but I had lost my family, lost my grandfather most of all, and had been alone since he had gone. Even before they took him, perhaps, because the relationship I had had with him before we reached Plas Maen Heledd had dwindled while we were there. The work had drawn him away from me. Now I found myself, approaching my twentieth year, living a strange life cut off from everything I had known before. I knew that life had been a sham, but it had been where I spent my childhood and early adolescence. Since then I had lived through a series of incomprehensible existences, plunging into unknown territory after unknown territory, constantly being told that I was the ‘Expected One’.

The terrible truth, it dawned on me more and more, was that I had no idea what was expected, what they expected of me, indeed who ‘they’ were and what they wanted me to do. Looking back, it was no wonder that I mistakenly believed that Nefyn could help me through the chaos of my life.

The next day I managed to persuade Nefyn to come outside with me again. We walked about the strange site, filled with the broken walls of the old Romans. I climbed up on one and walked a little way along it. Like all of them, it suddenly stopped. When I made to jump off it, Nefyn said, “Be careful,” and put out his hand. I put out my own but he dropped his before they touched, and I jumped off the wall on my own.

“Why are you afraid to touch me?” I said.

“I’m not.”

“You held out your hand but when I held out mine you took yours away. Why did you do that?”

He shrugged and walked on.

“Tell me more about your favourite story. Did the woman in the story have a name?”

“Yes. She was called Helen. Helen Luyddawc. Though I do not know how to say that second word properly.”

“I suppose she was beautiful?”

“All women in stories are beautiful. Of her the story says,

And he saw a maiden sitting before him in a chair of ruddy gold. Not more easy than to gaze upon the sun when brightest, was it to look upon her by reason of her beauty. A vest of white silk was upon the maiden, with clasps of red gold at the breast; and a surcoat of gold tissue upon her, and a frontlet of red gold upon her head, and rubies and gems were in the frontlet, alternating with pearls and imperial stones. And a girdle of ruddy gold was around her. She was the fairest sight that man ever beheld.

I remember that. Exactly as it was written. That was how he saw her in his dream.”

“And was she the same when he found her?”

“The same.”

“He was a fortunate man. To have seen such a beauty in his dream and in reality.”

“Then I must also be a fortunate man.” He turned and looked directly at me.

“What did you say?” I said.

“I have seen you in my dreams. And now you are real.”

“You saw me in your dreams? That’s not possible. You’ve never seen me before I came here.”

“Macsen Wledig dreamed. And he sought his dream and found her. Why not me?”

“But it’s just a story. You probably dreamed about a woman because you are a man. When I arrived you think I am that woman because you have seen no other.”

He looked at me and smiled. He did not smile very often.

“What about Eluned?” I said. “Do you think she is beautiful?”

“Yes. But she does not possess beauty such as yours.”

“You flatter, Nefyn. It is meaningless. Tell me what happened to the lady in the story.”

“Macsen made three castles for her. And she made roads between the castles. They are supposedly the roads made by the old Romans.”

“Is that all? She made roads? Hardly the work of a beautiful woman.”

“What you must do is not the work of a beautiful woman. Yet you must do it.”

I looked at him. For the first time he had mentioned something about what was to happen to me.

“How do you know this? Who told you what I am going to do?”

“You are the Expected One. It is known what you will do.”

I walked away from him, turning his words over in my mind.

“It is known, except by me,” I said, still looking away. “I have no idea what I am supposed to do. I don’t even know why people call me the ‘Expected One’. Are you going to tell me?”

When I turned, he had walked away. My words echoed emptily in the air. I had to run to catch up with him.

“Tell me,” I yelled.

He stopped. I stopped.

“‘Canwyll yn tywyll a gerdd gennym.’” he said.

Those words. They rang a bell in my head. The words on the wall of the tunnel.

“Those are the words in the tunnel,” I said. “You know them.”

“‘A candle in the darkness marches with us.’” he said.

“Wait,” I said, walking up to him. “That is what the words mean. Do you know what the rest of the words say?”

“‘In forest, field, hill and dale,

 
A candle in the darkness marches with us,

 
The one who is ready leading every attack.’”

“Who wrote those words? What do they mean? Tell me.”

“The old ones made them. After the Romans left. Before my people came. Before my people were slaughtered at Catraeth. They say this. You are the Expected One. You are the candle. You march with us. You are the one who is ready.”

“Did you say at Catraeth? You cannot mean that. ‘Gwyr a aeth Gatraeth oedd fraeth eu llu.’”

“They went to Catraeth many in number. None returned. My mother. My father. My brothers. None came back. I am the last of the Votadini. I am the last Gododdin. As I was a babe in arms they did not take me.”

“But that all happened hundreds of years ago. How is it possible ...?” As I spoke I remembered Eluned’s stories of her life. Nefyn was the same. People for whom time was different to mine. Eluned had been born hundreds of my years previously, yet to me she was still a young woman. Nefyn was the same. No wonder he was lonely. For hundreds of my years he had lived in this bleak place alone.

If that was true, it dawned on me, then what about the times Gwenllian had visited him? In his time scale they seemed far apart. In my time scale they could be hundreds of years apart. That could only mean that her next visit could also be in another hundred years. Maybe more. Not a few days, or weeks as I had been expecting.

I sat down on the nearest fragment of wall. When I looked up at Nefyn tears were running down his cheeks. Now I knew why he always seemed so sad. I covered my face with my hands and wept. I heard him shuffle his feet then move off. I let him go.

Another two weeks passed, as far as I could tell. I wondered what the passing of time meant to people like Eluned and Nefyn. Did it appear to move more slowly? Each day we went about what became our routines. Nefyn disappeared some time after the sun came up and rarely returned before it went down. Each day he brought a sack full of wood for the fire, so that before long there was a high pile beside the fireplace. He also managed to bring some small animal or bird most days, as well as a variety of roots.

Eluned still spent all her time in the Room. She transformed it as much as she was able. The books were placed in one corner, after she had blown the dust from them and polished the ones with leather bindings. She washed our sleeping blankets and our shifts, a very laborious process with the primitive facilities available to her. The first night I slept in a newly washed blanket I think was the best sleep I had had since we arrived. Two days later, having spent the day huddled under a blanket, I was able to pull on a fresh shift, which felt wonderful. She also cooked a delicious stew every day.

I offered to help her, but of course my offer was refused. I rooted through Nefyn’s books, discovering, as he had said, that most were incomprehensible. I did not even understand the titles of most of them. One was actually in ClassLat, which startled me when I first opened it. I didn’t bother to struggle with that. The only two that were of any real interest were the two Nefyn had mentioned. A story book with strange tales, written in English, but supposedly translated from the old Welsh. I flicked through a few of them, until I found the story of Macsen Wledig, which I read. The other was a book of poems, this time translated from what the writer called ‘Anglo-Saxon’. I had no idea what that meant, so I left it.

Most days, as the weather stayed fine, I took the story book, went outside, found a quiet corner amongst the walls, and read. Sometimes, if the sun was warm enough, I found myself dozing off. One afternoon I must have slept longer because when I awoke the sun had gone down and it was growing quickly dark. On the odd days when it rained, I stayed inside, reading by the light of a candle, although this annoyed Eluned who complained that I was using too many of the candles.

For most of this time I had not had a chance to talk to Nefyn. I saw him in the mornings as he rose and crawled out of the tunnel. Once I tried to follow him, but he told me, angrily, to go back. I decided that I would sit outside and wait for him to return. All day I waited. I sat reading at first. Growing restless, I got up and wandered about the site, discovering parts I had never seen before. I even ventured as far as the edge of the woods where I knew Nefyn spent his days. I called his name, softly, once, but I heard nothing.

As night began to fall I returned to my original place, picked up the book and was about to continue reading. I had just turned to the page where I had left off when I heard a loud cracking noise. A fierce pain raced through my head. Everything went black.

When I opened my eyes I could see nothing. The back of my head throbbed with pain. When I attempted to move my hand to touch it nothing happened. Both hands, I discovered, were tied to something behind my back. I appeared to be lying on my back. When I tried to lift my head the pain shot through it again. Everything was in complete darkness. I was desperate to swallow but something gagged my mouth.

I heard movement and froze. Something seemed to be tied to my feet as well as my hands and I could sense that my legs were held apart. The movement again. Despite the shooting pain I lifted my head a little. Nothing. Whatever was moving had stopped. I tried to struggle. The only things I could move were my head and, very slightly, my shoulders. I closed my eyes again. Surely this was a dream.

I think I drifted off again, because when I opened my eyes there was some light. I was in the Room. When I turned my head to the side I could see the remains of the fire, still slightly glowing. I seemed to be stretched out on the floor of the Room. To my other side I could make out Nefyn, sitting in the shadow of a guttering candle. The table and chairs must have been moved as his chair was now in the corner.

I tried to speak but could utter nothing other than a loan groan because of the gag that restricted my mouth. My groan was met by another. It did not seem to come from Nefyn, but from the opposite side of the room to where I lay. I craned my neck, but could not lift my head enough to see in that direction. Doing so only sent the sharp pain through my head again, so I gave up.

Suddenly, Nefyn started to speak. At least, I thought he was speaking at first, but soon realised he was reading aloud.

“So they set forth and conquered lands, and castles, and cities. And they slew all the men, but the women they kept alive. And thus they continued until the young men that had come with them were grown grey-bearded, from the length of time they were upon this conquest.”

He paused before continuing.

“Then spoke Kynan unto Adeon his brother, "Whether wilt thou rather," said he, "tarry in this land, or go back into the land whence thou didst come forth?" Now he chose to go back to his own land, and many with him. But Kynan tarried there with the other part and dwelt there.”

Again he paused. Again he continued.

“And they took counsel and cut out the tongues of the women, lest they should corrupt their speech. And because of the silence of the women from their own speech, the men of Armorica are called Britons. From that time there came frequently, and still comes, that language from the Island of Britain.”

He stopped. I recognised what he was reading. It was the end of the story about Macsen Wledig. Then he repeated a number of sentences, pausing between each one.

“
And they slew all the men, but the women they kept alive.
”

Pause.

“
But Kynan tarried there with the other part.
”

Pause.

“
And they took counsel and ...
”

Pause.

“
And cut out the tongues of the women.
”

Longer pause.

“
Lest they should corrupt their speech.
”

After this he stopped. Still in shadow he stood up. I heard the chair scraping back. He moved towards me. I thought he was going to come to me, but he stopped and turned away from me.

“You hear this, Eluned Llyn Y Gadair? This I will do to you. Soon. Soon.”

I heard the low groan again. Eluned, I thought. She must be trussed up like me. Nefyn took two steps towards me, took hold of my hair in his left hand and pulled me up into a sitting position. The pain was excruciating. My head throbbed. I closed my eyes as spasms shot through me. I felt warm tears run down my cheeks. Still holding me by my hair, he took two steps in the other direction, stretched out his other hand and pulled Eluned up by her hair. Despite the gag, she screamed.