Cry of Sorrow (18 page)

Gently he reached out and touched her shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry.” Before Esyllt could erupt again, he turned to the Bard. “So much for the testing. For today, at least. We must—”

But now it was Esyllt’s face that paled, her hands flying to her forehead. She gave a low moan, and dropped to her knees. Shockingly, Trystan heard the echo of a Mind-Shout as it reverberated through the clearing.

Esyllt, Talhearn, Susanna, Cian! Turn back now! The enemy comes!

“You see?” Esyllt whispered. “I told you so. She betrays us.”

Sabrina swiftly moved to Esyllt’s side. Motioning for Trystan to take the Bard’s other arm, she said, “Hurry, I must see Owein. If you believe that I have betrayed you, then kill me now. If not, we must go.”

The three of them returned to Owein’s camp just before dark. They had been spotted long before they reached the camp, Trystan knew, and he was not surprised when they were met by Owein and his Lieutenant, Teleri, the moment they entered the clearing.

Esyllt, who had not spoken a word since that morning, sank down with a sigh onto the blanket that was spread before the fire.

“Sabrina ur Dadweir,” Owein said, taking her hand. “I regret that I cannot fully say you are welcome here.” Owein’s eyes cut to Trystan. “We heard an echo of the Shout this morning. Why, I don’t know.”

“Because there were Bards around,” Esyllt said wearily. “The Shout was so strong it reached every single Bard in Kymru, no doubt. And spilled over to anyone else in the vicinity. To any other Kymri, I should say. A Coranian would hear nothing.”

“I didn’t know it could be done,” Owein said in awe.

“Neither did I,” Esyllt replied. “Neither did most of us. The Master Bard is full of surprises.”

“King Owein, this cannot wait,” Sabrina said urgently. “I must tell you—”

“Yes, you certainly must. Sit down by the fire. And tell us what you know.”

“All that you know,” Esyllt said harshly.

Trystan saw Teleri smother a grin. He remembered that Teleri and Sabrina had been good friends. And that Esyllt and Sabrina had always disliked one another. Just what the cause of the antipathy was, he never had known.

Sabrina sat, gratefully sipping the cup of warm wine Trystan had fetched for her. He had not really meant to do that. It had just happened.

“Owein ap Urien, var Ellirri, true King of Rheged,” Sabrina began formally. “I bring you news of your sister.”

“Is she all right?” Owein asked anxiously.

“No. But she is alive. First, you and your Cerddorian must leave Coed Addien. She has told them where you are.”

“Don’t be a fool, Owein,” Esyllt said harshly. “You have no way of knowing this isn’t a trick. Maybe they are waiting for you to move. So they can take you.”

“I have thought of that, Esyllt, thank you,” Owein replied, not taking his eyes from Sabrina’s face. “There is more. Tell us.”

“She is to wed Morcant in four months’ time. With her as his wife, he will have a true claim to the rule of Rheged.”

“Four months,” Owein said softly. “Why wait four months?”

Sabrina swallowed hard. “He must wait to be sure she is not pregnant with another man’s child.”

“And whose child might she be carrying?”

“Bledri’s.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Sabrina said sharply. “She is a prisoner. She has been forced to name your location, forced to agree to marry Morcant.”

“I know my sister. You don’t need to tell me that.” Owein’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping on his cheek. His blue eyes were bleak, and enraged. “Morcant will pay for what he has done to her. And Bledri, too. Neither of them will escape me.”

For a time no one spoke. The Cerddorian who were gathered around the fire began to slip away, one by one. Silently they began to gather their belongings. At first light they would go.

“Tomorrow we begin our move to Coed Coch,” Owein continued, turning to Sabrina. “You shall join us. We owe thanks for your warning.”

“Fool!” Esyllt spat. “You trust her?”

“Queen Ellirri did,” Teleri said coldly.

“The Queen is dead!”

“And I am very much alive,” Owein said. “And intend to stay that way.”

Sycharth, Kingdom of Ederynion

The rolling hills that surrounded the city of Sycharth were faded and brown. In any other year, Angharad remembered, the hills would be green by now. Tiny tufts of clover, bright primroses, rich blue forget-me-nots would have dotted these hills. But spring was slow to come this year. It had been the same the year before.

The people said it was because Modron, the Great Mother, had turned against the Kymri because the Druids now worshiped the god of the Coranians. And Angharad, for one, did not doubt it.

Her sharp green eyes scanned the hills ceaselessly, looking for signs of movement, for the glint of sun on weapons. But so far it had been quiet. She glanced behind her for a moment, to see Talhearn taking the last child on his lap as he sat on a convenient log.

“You see, little one,” Talhearn said soothingly to the tiny girl, “this is called the testing device.” He held out a little silver box that had a small opening at one end. The top of the box was covered with jewels. At the center was a group of onyx stones, arranged in a figure-eight pattern around a bloodstone. Grouped around these stones were a pearl, a sapphire, an emerald, and an opal. At the far corners, other jewels nested—amethyst, topaz, ruby, and a diamond next to a garnet.

“Now, this is how we tell if you have a special gift,” Talhearn went on. “You put your finger in this opening here, and the jewels will glow. The amethyst and the topaz will light up for you because you are one of the Kymri. Maybe one of the other stones will light, too. If they do, it tells us that you have a special gift. And if they don’t, it won’t matter, for you are a child of Kymru, and that’s the most important thing of all.”

The child stared at the box, then looked up at her father, who stood next to Talhearn. The father nodded, and the child put her finger into the opening of the box.

Instantly the amethyst and the topaz began to glow. Then the pearl started to shine with a luminous radiance. A low humming sound began, and Angharad stiffened. Quickly, Talhearn pulled the child’s finger out of the box. For a moment they were all still. The child stared at the box, astonished. The father had tears in his eyes. And the other parents and children who had made the secret, dangerous journey smiled, then began to murmur in delight.

Talhearn stood up, and handed the child to her father. “She is Dewin. In two years, when she is old enough, we will return here on Alban Awyr and take her. She will be safe with us. She will be loved and treated well. She will be happy. We will take her to the place where the Ardewin waits to greet her, and teach her how to use her gift for the good of the Kymri.”

The father swallowed hard, then hugged his little girl. “Her mother died not long ago. Could you not take her now? I will give anything for her to be safe. Anything.”

Talhearn glanced at Angharad, and she shook her head. He knew as well as she that they could not care for the child on their long, dangerous journey throughout Ederynion. And he knew they could not take the time to deliver the girl to the Ardewin.

“I am sorry, boyo,” Talhearn said gently. “We cannot take her now. But here now, she will be safe enough. No one else knows her for Dewin but those of us gathered here. Surely you can trust them.”

The man nodded thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said with no uncertainty in his tone. “It’s just that—well—you understand.”

“I do,” Talhearn replied. “Believe me, I do.”

“Talhearn,” Angharad said over her shoulder, still scanning the road. “It’s time to move on. We must be leagues away from here by nightfall. And these people must return to their homes. Now, listen, all of you. Those who have to return to Sycharth, do so in small groups. Go back into the city by different gates. Those of you whose farms lie elsewhere must also split up. Everyone understand?” She knew her tone was preemptory, but she couldn’t help that. Too many years of ordering her warriors about, she supposed, left her unable to modify her tone now.

“You see, good folk, what capable hands I am in? Oh, if only I was!” Talhearn’s languishing glance behind her back (she knew perfectly well what he was doing) made the people chuckle. But they were Kymri, and knew the importance of what they did. And so they did not linger, but seemed to melt away in groups of two or three, until even Angharad would have been hard-pressed to show that a group of thirty men, women, and children had recently stood in this spot.

“Come on, old man,” Angharad said, making for the road. “As my grandfather and a barely successful peddler, you should at least try to sell some of your wares today.”

“My dear,” Talhearn said smoothly, “I believe we had agreed you would be my daughter, not my granddaughter. Far be it from me to point out that you are too old—”

“Keep your opinions to yourself.”

“But you do look very fetching in a skirt. I don’t believe I have ever seen you wear one.”

Angharad scowled. The skirt irritated her almost past bearing. “I consider it useful,” she said sourly as they stepped onto Sarn Uelia, the north-south road that bisected Ederynion. “If anyone who knew me saw me like this, they would never recognize me.”

“Unless, of course, it was your Lieutenant, Emrys. He would recognize you no matter what. For love looks with the heart, not with the—”

“I told you to keep your opinions to yourself,” she snarled. “I have no time for them.”

“Or for Emrys.”

“No. Nor for Emrys, either. He wants too much, and so must have none.”

Talhearn stopped and studied Angharad. “You know, my dear, I believe you are right. It’s astonishing to find actual wisdom in one of your impetuous nature.”

Though the words might have been insulting, the tone was not. And Angharad was not a fool, so she took it for the compliment it was. But before she could reply, her sharp eyes spotted a cloud of dust just rising from the road in the far distance.

“Someone’s coming to Sycharth,” she said.

“Not unusual. It is a fairly large city.”

No, it wasn’t unusual. So why did she feel so tense? “I think we had better—”

“Too late,” Talhearn said calmly, slinging his peddler’s pack onto his back and assuming an old man’s stoop. “They’ve seen us. They’re too far away to fully identify us, but if we run off the road, they will think something is wrong.”

Angharad hefted the basket onto her left arm, her right hand holding on to the cover. “Don’t forget what we agreed on at the beginning of this venture,” she said to Talhearn as he began to shuffle forward. “If anything starts to go wrong, you run. As far and as fast as you can. Remember.”

“I remember,” he said.

Something in his tone left Angharad feeling uncertain that he would obey those orders. Oh, well, maybe they wouldn’t have to fight. Their disguise was good and had gotten them through many leagues already. No reason why—

The man who rode toward them sat stiffly in his saddle, his back erect, his head of black hair bared to the midmorning sun. His brown robes with green trim fluttered around him. And when his black eyes saw them, Angharad’s heart skipped a beat. Twenty Coranian warriors fanned out behind the man. Their metal byrnies flashed in the sun. Their shields were red and gold, with the boar’s head stamped on the center.

And the man who was now bearing down on them was surely the last man she ever wished to see—unless, of course, she had a dagger in her hand. And she did, beneath the lid of the basket. It might be worth it to—

“No, Angharad,” Talhearn said quietly, lightly touching her arm. “There are too many of them for that. Best we run, I think.”

But before they could so much as turn, Talhearn cried out softly, and Angharad’s head almost split with the Shout that sounded in her mind.

Esyllt, Talhearn, Susanna, Cian! Turn back now! The enemy comes!

And then the enemy was upon them. She could have cursed the Master Bard and his timing, but she knew it wouldn’t really have mattered. It had already been too late, even before the Shout.

The man who led the group of warriors reined in his horse, looking down at them with mad, gleeful eyes. She returned his gaze squarely, holding a weakened and disoriented Talhearn so he wouldn’t fall to the ground.

Then Talhearn raised his head, and his eyes slowly focused on the man who stared down at them.

Angharad would always remember that their fate changed the moment when the man met Talhearn’s eyes. Perhaps it was the compassion and the wisdom in the Bard’s eyes. Perhaps it was the remembrance of all the years they had known each other. Perhaps it was the shared love for a certain auburn-haired captive Queen. Whatever it was, it changed everything.

“What’s the problem, Druid?” one of the warriors asked of the man, gesturing at Angharad and Talhearn. “Thinking of buying something?” The men laughed, but the Druid’s gaze did not waver.

“Your father looks ill,” the Druid said softly, ignoring the warrior’s taunt. “A hard life for you both, on the road.”

“Better than no life at all,” Angharad said sharply, then silently cursed herself for being so abrupt.

But Iago merely smiled sadly. “Yes, so it is.”

And then he rode on, followed by the warriors. He did not look back.

   
Tegeingl, Kingdom of Gwynedd

B
EDWYR STOOD SILENTLY
just inside the door of the dye shed, looking out at the compound. The door was open only a crack, but it was enough for him to keep an eye on the wool workers as they went about their tasks.

The large hall where the prized wool of Gwynedd was dyed was warm from the heat of the fires that were laid beneath each huge vat. The dyes boiled and bubbled as the workers thrust at the floating wool with long-handled poles.

Bedwyr glanced back over his shoulder. The room was smoky, and he could barely make out the red-gold of Susanna’s hair from where she sat in the far corner, surrounded by children and their anxious parents.

Silently, Bedwyr breathed a prayer to Cerrunnos and Cerridwen, the Protectors. He was a fine warrior, and he knew it. But he had never liked the idea of coming so close to Tegeingl. Both he and Susanna had lived here for many years and had been recognized instantly, in spite of their disguises. They had expected that, of course. And they had taken all proper precautions before coming here, to the wool works outside the city.