The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (12 page)

Anwen was preparing a tea tray for her
aunt, laying cup upon saucer, filling the milk jug and letting the tea stew in its pot.

‘Well, I must have done something right to deserve such service.’ Nerys said as she popped a biscuit into her mouth. Anwen smiled guiltily. She had been deliberately serving up tea straight into the most cumbersome mugs she could find in order to annoy her
aunt, knowing full well Nerys preferred a china cup and saucer.

‘So, what now?’ Anwen asked pouring the tea into Nerys’ cup and handing it to her by the saucer.

‘Well, I have a few suggestions, none of which I think you will like.’ Nerys concentrated on stirring a teaspoon of sugar into her tea.

‘I’ll not have an abortion, if that’s what you’re thinking?’

‘Then we have no choice but to find you a father for the babe.’ Nerys continued to stir her tea, not looking in Anwen’s direction.

‘Taliesin’s the father!’ Anwen tipped her head to the side and stared at her
aunt in confusion.

‘Two things, Anwen
… One, if anyone finds that out, especially the Druids, you’ll probably be dead. Two, the Bwy Hir cannot spill human blood, but have you ever heard the saying “touched in the head”?’

Anwen was beginning to wonder whether her
aunt was a bit “touched in the head”.

‘It is a very old saying, Anwen. It derives from the
Chosen. To be “touched in the head” by the Bwy Hir means you will lose all memory, become insane or maybe both … there is nothing stopping them from taking your child once it is born and “touching your head”. You will remember nothing, in fact I’m surprised they haven’t done it already and be done, unless they worry they’d harm the baby, cause you to miscarry and thus break a covenant.’ Nerys finally looked up from her teacup and fixed Anwen with a grave stare. ‘Are you sure you won’t have that abortion? Although, that in itself could be dangerous, the Bwy Hir don’t take kindly to someone hurting one of their own … My, my, you are in a fix.’

‘Then tell me what to do!’ Anwen cried, ‘Help me Aunty Nerys!’

Nerys was becoming bored of sighing, she normally wouldn’t do something so unrefined, but this girl was driving her to exhaustion with her tears and tantrums, demands and challenges. Bringing the teaspoon up to her chin, tapping it lightly against the tip of her jaw, deciding how best to reveal her plans to her stubborn, hormonal grandniece.

‘Anwen, I need you to hear me out,’ she began, ‘
no interruptions, no buts, no flying off the handle until I’m finished, you promise?’ Anwen huffed and fidgeted, but finally nodded her head in agreement.

‘The way I see it, there’s at least four of us who know about the baby – you, Taliesin, me and the Bwy Hir who saw this note delivered – no don’t ask, I’ll not tell you – oh, I am to give you these too
. Keep the mirror hidden but wear the bracelet, you can tell your father the bracelet is a truce gift from me.’ She handed Anwen the tiny mirror and bracelet. Anwen accepted them deferentially.

Her pockets truly are bottomless
, she thought.

Nerys continued
. ‘So, anyway, that’s three too many to keep a secret well. If you’re found out, you and your babe – not to mention your family and maybe Taliesin himself will be in great danger … So that leaves us with only one option I can think of – we need to find you a man we can pin the blame on, someone single so you can marry him if you have to – no, no, Anwen, wait until I’ve finished. That way the babe’s true identity can be concealed, hidden in plain sight … Now you may speak.’

Anwen had intended to run roughshod over Nerys’ suggestion, but the more she thought about it the more it made sense, and so a
Ransom of their own began in earnest over the kitchen table.

‘If I agree to this I’ll not have to sleep with
him, will I?’

‘If you mean do you have to have sex with the potential father then, yes
, you will.’

‘What if I can make
him get so drunk, he won’t remember if we did it or not?’

‘That would work just as well, I suppose.’

‘And I don’t have to stop seeing Taliesin?’

‘That is your decision, not mine.’

‘What if I don’t want to marry and Dad says I don’t have to?’

‘Then I suppose you won’t have to, if you’re happy to be considered a scarlet woman and your son named a bastard.’

That stung
, thought Anwen. ‘And I won’t ever have to leave Ty Mawr?’

‘That remains to be seen. Are you prepared to act quickly on this, before you start showing?’ Nerys switched the tack of the conversation.

‘Yes, why, do you have anyone in mind?’ Anwen switched it back.

‘Maybe
… Are you prepared to start coming to church with me every Sunday?’

‘Maybe. Why?’

‘Answer the question and stop trying to control the conversation, I’m far more skilled at it than you. Will you come, Anwen?’

Anwen hesitated before replying, ‘Yes, if you tell me why.’

‘A multitude of reasons, one ...’ Nerys ticked them off on her fingers. ‘The vicar’s son is single, malleable and by all accounts a good, kind young man – easy to manipulate. Two, he shares the same surname as you – no relation though, so should you be fool enough not to marry, at least some folks will presume he’s your husband. Three, I can’t abide the vicar’s wife, never have done, and the chance to bring her down a peg or two and cast shame upon her family is far too good an opportunity to miss, may God forgive me.’ Nerys crossed herself and smiled, ‘What do you think?’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Ransom was over, the Solstice was fast approaching and Aeron Ddu, King of the Winter Realm felt wonderful as he stood gazing out into the clear, star peppered night sky. He could feel a cold breeze tugging his shirt, ruffling his hair and he felt
alive
.

He stood in rapture of the landscape laid out before him, the rugged beauty of mountains, the harsh jagged outcrops, the rough, rolling grasslands, the winding streams and undulating rivers surging through the misty, windswept valleys, the sheer enormity of the vista made him feel
right
.

He absentmindedly rubbed his forearm, something he was unconscious of, but was doing more and more frequently. He let his mind wander, sending his thoughts out onto the wind, he closed his eyes and
became
the wind, spinning and gliding on its nomadic flux.

Up
and up on the thermals he flew, circling the valley that stretched out beneath his drifting consciousness, up and up through the icy veil of clouds and into the perfect, inky sky: this was his rhapsody, this was his elation.

A wretched, timid knocking coming from far away caught his attention
. He tried to ignore it but his concentration had been intruded upon and so he withdrew his mind and focused inward once more.

‘What is it?’ he thundered, furious at the interruption.

A nervous young Druid shuffled in, head down and visibly quaking. ‘My Lord,’ he stammered, ‘you, you asked to be informed as the Druid Council went into session.’

‘Where is Afagddu?’ Aeron barked.

‘He, he is to be reprimanded at the Council, sire,’ the Druid offered.

‘Why?’ Aeron looked like a bird about to
descend on an insect as he towered above the young man.

‘For angering the Bwy Hir and causing disgrace to his brethren, sire, and so he must be punished.’ He shrank back as Aeron leaned forward.

‘You
all
anger the Bwy Hir,’ Aeron boomed, ‘you all cause disgrace to yourselves with your ceaseless jostling for power and relentless thirst for knowledge. You are all guilty of that which you accuse my Councillor of, little Druid. I want him brought to me this instance – no, better still, I will fetch him myself.’

Brushing the terrified messenger aside Aeron charged down the central staircase and out into the
Druid infested lower hallways. He stormed into the Council Chambers, sending the elder Druids into tumult until he calmly took his seat positioned in the centre of the far wall overlooking the entire hall and the rows upon rows of benches set to either side. A long rectangular oak table divided the centre of the room, abutting the Senior Druids’ benches and ending with a lectern and step at its opposite end.

Once all the benches were filled
, a wizened old Druid slowly stood from his seat. His oversized garments threatened to swamp him as he struggled to stand on feeble legs, his chain of office hung heavily around his scrawny neck and his hands were withered, arthritic claws as he clutched for his ceremonial crook. It took all his strength and effort just to knock the brass butt of his black crook on the floor to open the session. ‘Come one, come all, the brethren are in session,’ he croaked, with a reedy voice. ‘Come with open hearts and open minds for the glory of the Druids, to the service of the Bwy Hir, for the sake of all mankind let us lay bare the Elders’ proposals and convene with honour, other measures will be laid before you.’ He flopped back into his seat, energy spent. There was a rustle from the benches as each Druid removed his cowl to bare his face, so each could be seen clearly and identified.

Aeron lent back in his lofty chair
. He crossed his legs and began to tap his foot while he scanned the rows of faces until he came upon Afagddu sitting humbly on the furthest bench at the back of the hall, the others drawn away from him, sitting apart to disassociate themselves from the fallen Druid. Aeron scowled and drummed his fingers upon his thigh.

‘I call this session to order
,’ an elder Druid droned, as he stood to rise from the front bench to Aeron’s right. ‘There are a number of issues to discuss on the agenda, but first let me make the apologies.’ He shuffled a handful of papers.

‘Ah, apologies!’ Aeron leaned forward, peering down upon the assembly, a murmur filled the benches and the poor old
Druid had to stand once again to knock his black crook on the stone floor and attempt to restore order. The Elder Druids had swivelled in their seats to gape at Aeron looming over them.

‘My
Lord?’ The Elder Druid with the handful of papers spoke with a shaky voice, uncertain of the interruption.

‘You were getting to the apologies
,’ Aeron prompted enigmatically.

‘Yes
… thank you my Lord.’ The Elder cleared his throat to continue.

H
e opened his mouth but Aeron interrupted once again. ‘Only, I am curious as to whom you are intending to apologise to?’

The
Elder was obviously puzzled and he scratched his head, ‘My Lord, I am about to apologise for those who are not in attendance, for reasons I shall explain to the assembly.’

‘Oh,’ Aeron feigned ignorance, ‘my sincere apologies Elder, I presumed you were about to apologise to Afagddu.’ There was a collective intake of breath. Aeron waited.

‘May I inquire as to why I would be making an apology
to
Afagddu and not an apology to your person on his behalf?’ The poised Elder searched the benches for support, but found nothing but downcast craven eyes.

‘You may indeed
inquire my brave friend,’ Aeron granted generously. ‘At least you have the courage to request enlightenment.’  

Silence filled the
Chamber. All the Druids seemed to be holding their breath, most held their heads down while others peered about the hall, twisting their heads like foraging birds.

‘I am waiting for your question, Elder.’ Aeron leaned further still, resting his forearms on his muscular thighs as he spread his knees taking a dominant, eager stance.

‘My question …’ the Elder’s mind was in turmoil, he had trapped himself in a perilous snare and he desperately sought a way to escape. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and upper lip, his heart pounded in his chest and he could find no way to escape the question. ‘My question is … why I … we … should apologise to Afagddu?’ He gulped.

‘A fine question and bravely delivered!’ Aeron exclaimed
. ‘A question that deserves, nay demands an answer, is it not?’ he smiled, nodding his head approvingly, opening his arms wide to encompass the entire hushed hall. ‘Is it not?’ he suddenly bellowed, his manner changed like quicksilver.

A flustered chorus of agreement erupted. The
Druids were ruffled, they were scared, they were compliant and exactly where Aeron wanted them to be, but he was not finished. ‘I shall answer your question, brave Elder.’ He stepped down from his seat and strutted into the centre of the hall. ‘The reason you should apologise to Afagddu is many-fold, where should I begin?’ He spoke as if to children. ‘He is your brother and yet you set upon him to drag him down, why? You say he disgraced his brethren, how so? You banish him to the rear stalls, like some new initiate, exile him from his rightful seat of honour, again I ask you why?’ Aeron spun around slowly, taking in every Druid, pausing for an answer.

‘You babble of disgrace and punishment, in my eyes you are all guilty of that which you illogically accuse my Councillor, how dare you? How
dare
you?’ Aeron’s eyes were afire with controlled fury. ‘He is
my
Councillor and Advisor, not yours!’ He pointed a finger at the Elders as he spoke. ‘It is for me to punish where I see fit, it is for me to judge if he is at fault, he is mine to discipline as
I
see fit, not you!’ Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled at the Elders. ‘Was my chastisement not enough for you? Do you consider me at fault that you would call him before this session and punish him further? How dare you? You grasp above yourselves,
Elders
!’ Aeron panted as he fought to control himself. ‘But no matter,’ his voice quieted as his temper faded, ‘if my chastisement did not satisfy, then I can soon remedy that disappointment.’ Heads shot up and worried glances passed through the rows of Druids. ‘You will
all
feel my wrath, all taste my punishment, excluding Afagddu who has been punished enough. You will all cloister yourself in your cells until the next sunrise. You will all perform the
self-flagellation ritual. You will all contemplate your arrogance and selfishness. You will all leave my presence
now
!’ He screamed the last word.

There was a mass exodus as the
Druids stood as one, each bowing solemnly and filing towards the exit. Pushing and shoving began at the great door as Druids became desperate to leave quickly enough to stall the Storm King’s further anger. When the last stragglers had vanished, only two Druids remained: Afagddu fast in his seat, head bowed, eyes closed, and the crumpled figure of the old Druid who had called the Council to order. He lay prostrate upon the floor near the exit, his black crook laying discarded beside him.

Aeron felt a pang of sympathy for the old
Druid. He respectfully lifted the fragile man and set him gently on his feet, grabbing his crook and delicately handing it to him to steady himself before tenderly urging him on his way. ‘And so goes your brethren,’ Aeron spoke sadly, ‘every man for himself.’

Afagddu
slowly lifted his head to show an ashen face. ‘And I am one of them.’