The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (32 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Gwyn sat alone at the kitchen table. Even Bara had deserted him to sneak upstairs to sleep on Dafydd’s vacant bed. The house felt empty and cold, Gwyn hadn’t bothered to light the fire and only the Aga stood defending the house from the icy wind howling through the valley.

Gwyn had heard the rumbles of thunder but couldn’t be bothered to look for the lightning through the window; he didn’t care and besides he didn’t have the energy to rouse himself to prepare a meal, never mind stick his nose against the cold glass to catch a flash of light. That reminded him
of his meeting with Awel Chan y Bant and the Cerdd Carega
. “Go straight home, Gwyn Morgan of Ty Mawr. Give my regards to your father when you see him again. Be compliant with the Druids; remember you are a new initiate with a lot to learn. Trust Dai Jones and his wife. In all probability I will not see you again until Spring. So take of yourself.”

‘Take care of yourself!’
He mimicked her as he screwed his face up. ‘Take care of yourself! Oh yeah, I can take care of myself alright!’ he said to the ceiling. ‘It’s Anwen and Dad I’ve got the problem with … I shouldn’t have left the house.’ He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have let Nerys talk me into it.’ His mouth drew down in a sorry frown as he thought of Nerys. ‘Where is “in-between” anyway, Awel, I can’t bloody work it out!’

H
e shook his head again and stood up looking around the kitchen. It was dark outside and rather than have the feeling of someone watching him he decided to close every pair of curtains in the house, starting with the kitchen curtains. He pushed past the table and grabbed at the nearest curtain with his meaty hands. The fabric felt slightly greasy and smelt of cooking and as he pulled it across he noticed the pattern was faded by sunlight and age. He leant over to pull the other to meet it when a hooded figure approached the window. ‘Ah!’ he yelled, jumping back from the window. Bara started barking and ran from downstairs.

‘It’s me!’ the little voice called through the glass
. ‘It’s Liz Jones!’

Gwyn grabbed at his chest and he exhaled
. ‘Good god, Mrs Jones, you frightened the life out of me!’ He hurried to the back door and unlocked it admitting Dai Jones’ wife, Liz. He locked the door again once she was inside and she hurried into the kitchen and closed the remaining curtain before pulling off the hood of her raincoat and handing him a large basket. Gwyn took the basket and stared at Liz Jones as if she’d grown two heads. Bara wagged her tail and sniffed at the basket.

‘Well, you could say something like, oh, I don’t know
... thank you!’ She put her hands on her hips and carried on talking without letting Gwyn get a word in edgeways. ‘Right, there’s bread, milk, cheese, tomatoes, onions and sausages in there, oh, and some bacon too … and a pot of stew, although I’ll want the dish back, mind. It will see you through the week and you’ll be getting a basket every week off one of us until this mess is sorted out. If there’s anything you need that’s not in there, you just ask and we’ll see it brought to you, no point wasting good money in the shops buying things that we can provide for you. I know you’ll get your stipend from the Druids but it’ll only cover your bills and you’ll have nothing left to spend on anything else. Your laundry you’ll have to manage yourself, we can’t be seen lugging bales of laundry to and from here; we can’t be seen to be helping but we will help, don’t you worry about that.’ Liz finished talking and looked to Gwyn and the basket. ‘Well?  I’ll need my basket back.’

‘Oh, sorry,
’ Gwyn said, emptying the contents onto the table, ‘and thank you … I thought I was being abandoned.’ Gwyn handed the basket back to the owner. Liz gave a sigh and looked up into Gwyn’s face.

‘You have been abandoned, Gwyn.’ Liz spoke gently, kindly
. ‘You’ll not be dealt with at market, the Druids will pass your lands to someone else for safekeeping, probably to Dai. You’ll not be served in the pub or the local shop; no-one will be seen mixing with you. But “seen” and “is” are two different horses, so don’t you worry.’ She patted him on the cheek. ‘Oh and Awel asked me to tell you this in case this very thing was to happen – she says: “Stand firm little warrior, until the Spring, stand firm.”’ Liz shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ll be off then.’ She pulled her hood back up, unlocked the door and vanished into the night.

Gwyn watched her leave with a mixture of relief and trepidation. He didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t want to be
Gwaradwyddedig,
and he didn’t want to be shunned by his friends and neighbours, even if it was only on the surface. He wanted Nerys and Anwen sitting at the table waiting for him and his dad to come home from working the fields. Tonight was supposed to be Gwyn’s first Solstice, something to be proud of, something to share with his father and the Chosen men of his community but instead he was sitting alone in an empty house. His father was in a Druid prison, his sister was in hiding and running for her life and Nerys … Nerys was gone.

Bara nudged Gwyn’s hand with her moist nose. ‘I’m not all alone, am I Bara?’ he said
, rubbing her ears. ‘I’ve got you and you’ve got me, so let’s go and get something to eat before we wither away.’ Bara wagged her tail and followed Gwyn to the Aga as he began to reheat Mrs Jones’ stew. Gwyn and Bara would share it equally, they were in it together.

CHAPTER THREE

Anwen had been frogmarched into the first floor flat owned and occupied by Mary Evans, Anwen’s jailer, as Anwen had begun to dub her, had unceremoniously bundled Anwen onto the sofa in the living room and stood over her with a jaded expression. ‘Explain to me why you have tried to run away twice since I met you at the station? I haven’t known you more than an hour!’ Mary was exasperated and she was far too old for these kinds of games.

Anwen glared at her jailer and folded her arms
. ‘I don’t want to be here.’

‘Where else is there, Anwen?’ Mary was worn out
. ‘You have little money, I doubt whether you’re city streetwise, and pregnant girls don’t make good employees, so tell me, where else would you go?’ Anwen glared even harder and Mary exhaled. ‘Look, you are safe here and to be honest you look and smell in good need of a hot bath and some clean clothes.’

‘What the hell do you expect?’ Anwen snapped
. ‘I haven’t slept in days, I’ve had no rest and I’ve been scared out of my wits, what do you expect me to look like?’

‘This is exactly why here is the best place for you. You are safe
now, you can rest and get yourself together. I mean you no harm – quite the opposite – I’m here to make sure you stay safe.’ Mary leaned forward and placed her hand on Anwen’s knee. ‘Trust me, Anwen, or at least try.’

Anwen stared down at Mary’s hand and immediately noticed the bracelet she was wearing
. ‘I have the same one.’ She said pointing to Mary’s wrist. Mary held it up to the light, the tiny gold acorn dangling from the chain was its only embellishment.

‘Do you know what this is?’ Mary asked, admiring her most treasured poss
ession. Anwen shook her head. ‘It is a Tarian: a shield. It keeps us hidden from anyone casting for our whereabouts, it confuses the Helgi, puts them off our scent and only the Pride can locate us with these bracelets.’ Anwen looked confused so Mary clarified what she was explaining. ‘Only the female Bwy Hir can trace us, or to be more specific, only the Bwy Hir who put the Tarian in place.’ Mary smiled as Anwen’s face showed enlightenment. Anwen held up her hand and admired the twin of Mary’s bracelet dangling from her wrist. ‘You should never take it off, not for any reason,’ Mary warned.

‘Oh, I won’t
,’ Anwen breathed, ‘I shan’t take it off for anything.’ Anwen dropped her wrist and felt in her pocket for the mirror. She didn’t take it out but just wanted to make sure it was safe. Her bag of wet clothes sitting protectively on her lap and her shoes had finally dried but still rubbed her feet mercilessly.

‘How about I make a cup of tea and something to eat?’ Mary offered
. ‘Then you can have a nice hot bath and I’ll find you some comfy pyjamas.’ Anwen stared at Mary for a few seconds, weighing up whether she could trust her. Finally Anwen nodded her head. ‘Good.’ Mary patted Anwen’s knee and stood up. ‘Come through to the kitchen and we’ll see about getting whatever’s in that bag either washed or thrown away.’

Anwen followed Mary through a small hallway and into a tiny galley kitchen. There was the smallest dining table Anwen had ever seen, with two chairs s
itting opposite each other tucked under the window and then a simple row of kitchen base and wall units nestled against the far wall, a sink and a small slim-line electric cooker. A fridge and a washing machine were huddled next to each other opposite the table – that was everything, no Aga, no space, nothing inviting and heart-warming, it was just a serviceable work space, clean as a pin but not what Anwen would call a “real kitchen.” The room didn’t smell of cooking, it didn’t feel warm and cosy; it was cold and smelt of lemons.

‘Not the style of kitchen you’re used to, I’m sure
,’ Mary said over her shoulder, as she flicked the kettle on to boil. Anwen shook her head. ‘The first thing you will learn about London is space comes at a premium. I could buy a small holding in Snowdonia for the same price as this apartment.’ Anwen wrinkled her nose in disbelief.
What self-respecting Welshman would swap this little shoe box for a solid cottage, outbuildings and good acreage in Wales?
Mary chuckled at Anwen’s unvoiced opinion; the girl had a lot to learn.

Mary made tea the same way as Nerys
; with cups and saucers, a teapot, a sugar bowl and milk jug, Anwen presumed it was an age thing. Mary played mother and poured milk from the jug into the white china cups, then she added the tea from the pot. ‘Sugar?’ she asked Anwen and she shook her head. ‘Sweet enough?’ Mary asked with a side smile.

‘So,’ Mary
said, replacing her teacup on its saucer, ‘Awel told me very little about you, only that I had to keep you hidden until Spring, and to be perfectly honest, the less I know the happier I am, so let us keep it that way, shall we?’ Anwen was surprised Mary didn’t want to know every detail of why Anwen had run away from her village accompanied by a huge dollop of every piece of gossip she could have gleaned from mild interrogation. Mary wasn’t at all like the women from the village, perhaps that’s why Awel had chosen her. Anwen viewed Mary from over the rim of her teacup. ‘You have questions you want to ask me?’ Mary asked as she sat relaxed in the kitchen chair, her hands resting on the table as she watched Anwen.

Anwen pursed her lips
. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’ she said bluntly.

‘You don’t know
,’ Mary answered in the same tone, ‘trust is earned.’

‘Why did Awel ch
oose you?’ Anwen put her cup down on the table and Mary frowned until Anwen placed it in its correct place on the saucer.

‘You’ll have to ask Awel, but I presume it
’s because I live so far away from Wales and ultimately because Awel
knows
she can trust me.’

‘How does Awel contact you – I mean, does she use the phone or what?’

Mary chuckled. ‘Goodness, I would love to see Awel trying to use a telephone!’ Anwen’s eyebrows drew down, she didn’t like being mocked. ‘Oh Anwen, stop bristling at every remark. To answer your question, we communicate through the Drych Ysgrifennu: a Writing Mirror.’

‘What is that? Can I see it? What does it do?’ Anwen leaned forward in her chair excitedly
. Could the hand mirror she had been given be a Drych Ysgrifennu and could she contact Taliesin with it? Mary squinted, weighing Anwen’s sudden interest with suspicion. ‘I take it you have a mirror of your own?’

‘No.’ Anwen’s blushing belied her words. Mary raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. The silence stretched between them until Mary finally relaxed her shoulders
. ‘I suppose trust must indeed be earned, but Anwen, it is a two way street, remember that … I cannot use the mirror at present, there would be no point – the Pride sleeps until Spring, the Solstice has passed … but what I can tell you is that to use a mirror properly the glass must be steamed and then you write with your finger, the message you want to send, but Anwen, you must never say where you are or who you are with, do you understand me?’ Mary was deadly serious.

Anwen nodded and squirmed in her seat
; she felt like a fool lying to this woman who had opened her home to her but like Mary said, “trust must be earned”. ‘May I have a bath now?’ Anwen asked in a meek and humble voice.

‘Of course, let me show you where everything is
.’ Mary pushed away from the table. ‘A hot bath is just what you need and is especially handy for steaming up a mirror you don’t own.’ Anwen blushed again. She really shouldn’t have tried to lie to this woman: she was as knowing as Nerys.

Mary left Anwen to it and closed the bathroom door while the water was still running giving Anwen the privacy she needed and giving Mary the privacy she needed to make a phone call. Mary picked up the receiver and dialled the number from memory, waiting for the call to be answered. When she heard the familiar voice say “hello”, Mary said four words before hanging up
. ‘She’s arrived here safely.’ And then she hung up.