Taran Wanderer (5 page)

A Judgment

T
ARAN SCARMBLED DOWN
the rocks jutting beside the high cascade. In a pool hammered into white spray he could
hardly make out Smoit's burly form spinning in the eddies. Heedless of the pounding water,
Taran pitched through the falls and sprang into the pool. He groped for Smoit's belt and
seized it at last. Battling the whirlpool and nearly drowning himself with his own
efforts, Taran painfully strove to drag the half-conscious King into the shallows.

Smoit was bleeding heavily from the forehead and his ruddy face had gone chalky pale.
Taran tugged at the King's waterlogged bulk, hauling him safely from the rolling waters.
In another moment Gurgi and Fflewddur were beside him, helping to drag the King ashore.
Smoit, like a beached whale, collapsed on the bank.

Gurgi, moaning anxiously, loosened the King's garments, while Taran and the bard hastily
saw to Smoit's injuries.

“He can count himself lucky he's only cracked his skull and half his ribs,” Fflewddur
said. “Another man would have been snapped in two. But we're in a fine pickle,” he added
under his breath to Taran, glancing at the warriors who had come to gather near the
unconscious Smoit. “He'll not lay Gast or Goryon by the heels now. He needs more healing
than we can give. We'd best take him to Caer Cadarn.”

Taran shook his head. He remembered Smoit's words about the neighboring cantrev lords who
would seize the opportunity to attack. It was in his mind, too, that finding Cornillo
could best bring Gast and Goryon to terms and thus end their battle. But his thoughts were
as tangled as Orddu's weaving and he fervently wished himself in the place of Smoit, whose
unconsciousness at that moment seemed a most enviable state.

“Aeddan's farmhold is closer,” Taran said. “We'll bring him there and Gurgi shall stay
with him. You and I must seek out Gast and Goryon and do what we can to stop their
quarrel. As for Cornillo and the herd, I doubt we may hope to find them.”

The companions, tearing their cloaks into strips, set about binding up Smoit's wounds. The
King's eyelids fluttered and he groaned loudly.

“Give me to eat!” gasped Smoit. “I may be half-drowned, but I'll not be half-starved.” He
put a hand on Taran's shoulder. “Good lad, good lad. You've saved my life. Another moment
and I'd have been beaten into a pudding. Claim any favor, it is yours.”

“I ask none,” Taran replied, knotting the bandages around Smoit's huge chest. “Alas,” he
murmured, “what I most want, none can grant.”

“No matter,” panted Smoit. “What you wish of me, you shall have.”

“Sire, you cannot travel far,” Taran began as Smoit tried painfully to climb to his feet.
“Give us leave to ride with your warriors and---”

“Kind master! Hear!” Gurgi called excitedly. “Hear with listenings!”

Llyan, too, had caught some sound, for her ears cupped forward and her whiskers twitched.

“It's my gizzard calling for meat and drink!” cried Smoit. “Loud it must be, for I'm empty
as a drum!”

“No, no,” shouted Gurgi, seizing Taran's arm and drawing him past the trees along the
riverside. “Gurgi hears no thrummings and drummings but cooings and mooings!”

Leaning on the bard, Smoit stumbled after them. Gurgi had spoken the truth; the creature's
sharp ears had not deceived him. Now Taran himself heard a faint lowing. Gurgi raced
toward the sound. Beyond the trees the land dipped into a shady dell watered by a
streamlet. Taran cried aloud. There stood the herd, grazing calmly around Cornillo.

“My pulse!” bellowed Smoit, so loudly that a dozen horned heads turned and stared as
alarmed as if some strange new kind of bull had burst into their quiet pasture.

“Great Belin!” cried Fflewddur. “Cornillo's led them all to safety. She's wiser than
either of her masters!”

Cornillo raised her head as Taran hurried to her side. She blew out her breath gently and
rolled her eyes in a look of long-suffering patience. Smoit, heedless of his grievous
bruises, clapped his hands triumphantly and shouted at the top of his voice for his
warriors.

“Sire, let us drive the herd to Aeddan's farm,” Taran urged. “Your own hurts must be
tended better than we've done.”

“Drive them where you please, lad,” answered Smoit. “My body and bones, we have them now!
That will fetch Gast and Goryon to me at a gallop!” He summoned two horsemen, commanding
them to bear a message to the cantrev lords. “Tell those two troublemakers where I'll
await them,” cried Smoit. “And tell each to call truce, for his cows are found!”

“And Gurgi found them!” shouted Gurgi, capering wildly. “Yes, yes! Bold, clever,
sharp-eared Gurgi finds all that is lost, oh, yes!” He flung his hairy arms around himself
and seemed close to bursting with pride and delight at his own deed. “Oh, bards will sing
of clever Gurgi with rantings and chantings!”

“I'm sure they will, old friend,” Taran said. “You've found the herd. But don't forget we
still have Gast and Goryon to deal with--- and there's only one Cornillo.”

The cows were at first reluctant to quit the dell, but after much coaxing Taran was able
to lead Cornillo along the valley pathways toward Aeddan's farm. The others followed her,
lowing and tossing their horns; it was a strange procession that wended its way across the
meadows and rolling hillocks. Smoit's warriors rode on either side of the herd, and the
red-bearded King himself brandished a spear as if it were a drover's staff; Llyan padded
after the cattle, alert for strays; and Gurgi perched proud as a shaggy rooster on
Cornillo's back.

When Aeddan's hut came in sight Taran galloped ahead calling to the farmer, but he had no
sooner dismounted when the door burst open and he fell back, surprised. Aeddan stood with
a rusted sword in his hand. Behind the farmer, Taran glimpsed Alarca weeping into her
apron.

“Is this how you repay kindness?” Aeddan cried, recognizing Taran immediately. His eyes
blazed as he pointed the ancient weapon at the approaching war band. “Do you come with
them to spoil our land? Begone! It is already done!”

“How then?” Taran stammered, shocked at these words from one he held to be a friend. “I
ride with King Smoit and his men. We seek peace between Gast and Goryon---”

“Does it matter whose warriors trampled my crops?” Aeddan flung back. “What Gast has
destroyed, Goryon has doubly destroyed, warring back and forth across my field till not a
blade of wheat stands! Battle is their pride, but my farm is my life. Do they seek
vengeance? I sought only a harvest.” In the weariness of despair Aeddan bowed his head and
cast his sword to the ground.

Taran stared in dismay at the field where Aeddan had so painfully labored. The hooves of
steeds had churned the earth to mud, uprooting the young shoots which now lay torn to
shreds. The harvest on which Aeddan had staked his livelihood would never come, and Taran
felt the farmer's heartbreak as if it were his own.

Before he could speak, a troop of horsemen galloped from the woods edging the farm. Taran
recognized Lord Goryon at their head. In another moment Lord Gast and his riders appeared.
Catching sight of his rival, the cantrev lord spurred his mount and galloped frantically
to the cottage, flung himself out of the saddle, and with a furious shout raced toward
Goryon.

“Robber!” cried Gast. “Do you mean to steal Cornillo from me again?”

“Thief!” cried Goryon. “I took what was mine to begin with!”

“Liar!” roared Gast. “Never was she yours!”

“Insults! Insolence!” roared Goryon, his face turning purple, his hand snatching for his
sword.

“Be silent!” bellowed Smoit. He shook his battle axe at the cantrev lords. “Your King
speaks! How dare you quarrel and insult each other, you pig-headed brawlers!” Smoit
gestured to his warriors, who strode to seize Gast and Goryon. The riders of the two war
bands cried out angrily and made to unsheathe their swords; for an instant Taran feared
another battle would rage then and there. But Smoit's warriors stood their ground, and the
sight of the enraged King himself caused the horsemen to draw back submissively.

“My dungeon will teach you to be good neighhors,” cried Smoit. “You'll stay there till you
learn. As for Cornillo--- I've split my skull, cracked my bones, and ridden to the edge of
starvation this day, and so I claim her for myself! A prize of war! And small recompense
it is for the vexation you've given me! Another day and you'd have set the whole cantrev
ablaze!”

At this, Gast and Goryon both roared in furious protest; and Taran could no longer hold
his tongue. He strode to the King's side.

“Sire, even a lifetime in your dungeon will not raise one grain of wheat on a ruined
field. Aeddan has lost all he hoped to gain, one harvest to keep himself and his wife
alive. You offered me a favor,” Taran went on. “I refused it then; will you let me claim
it now?”

“Ask what you please my lad,” replied Smoit. “It is already given.”

Taran hesitated a moment as he stepped forward and stood facing the cantrev lords. Then he
turned to Smoit. “I ask you this,” he said. “Set Gast and Goryon free.”

While Smoit blinked in astonishment, Goryon, glimpsing Taran for the first time,
exclaimed, “It's the pig-keeper who cozened me out of my horse! I took him for a lout, but
he asks a noble favor. Grant it, Smoit. He speaks wisdom!”

“Set them free,” Taran continued, “to labor beside Aeddan and strive to mend what they
have destroyed.”

“What?” cried Gast. “I took him for a hero, but he's no more than a lout! How dare he ask
Gast the Generous to delve the ground like a mole and for no reward!”

“Impudence! Impertinence! Insolence!” shouted Goryon. “I'll not have a pig-keeper pass
judgment on Goryon the Valorous!”

“Nor on Gast the Generous!” exclaimed Gast.

“Pass judgment on yourselves, then,” Taran answered, picking up two handfuls of earth and
torn shoots and holding them before the furious, cantrev lords. “This is what remains of
Aeddan's livelihood. As well take a sword and slay him. Look on this, Lord Goryon, for
there is more truth here than in your tales of giants and monsters. And this he treasured,
Lord Gast, more than you treasure any of your possessions--- and it was more truly his
own, for he toiled to make it so.”

Gast and Goryon had fallen silent; the two rough cantrev lords stared at the ground like
sheepish boys.

Aeddan and his wife looked on without speaking.

“The lad has a better head on his shoulders than I do,” exclaimed Smoit, “and his judgment
is wiser. Kinder, too, for my choice would have been the dungeon, not the delving!”

The cantrev lords reluctantly nodded agreement.

Taran turned to Smoit. “The rest of my favor is this: Grant most where need is greatest.
Do you claim Cornillo for your own? Sire, give her to Aeddan.”

“Give up Cornillo?” Smoit began, sputtering and choking. “My prize of war...” He finally
nodded his head. “So be it, lad.”

“Aeddan shall keep her,” Taran went on, “and Gast and Goryon shall have her next calves.”

“What of my herd?” cried Goryon.

“And mine!”cried Gast. “They're so mixed together no man can tell his own from another's.”

“Lord Goryon shall divide the herds in equal portions,” Taran said.

“He shall not!” Lord Gast broke in. “He'll give me all the scrawny ones and keep the fat
for himself. It's I who'll divide them!”

“Not so!” shouted Goryon. “You'll fob off none of your rawboned creatures on me!”

“Lord Goryon shall divide the herds,” Taran repeated. “But Lord Gast shall be first to
choose his half.”

“Well said!” Smoit burst out, roaring with laughter. “My breath and blood, you have them
there! Goryon divides and Gast chooses! Ho, oho! It takes two thieves to strike an honest
bargain!”

Aeddan and Alarca had come to stand before Taran and King Smoit. “Who you may truly be, I
do not know,” the farmer said to Taran. “But you befriended me far better than I
befriended you.”

“Oh, wisdom of kindly master!” cried Gurgi, as the cantrev lords set about dividing their
herds and Smoit's warriors made ready to return to Caer Cadarn. “Gurgi finds cows, but
only wise master knows what to do with them!”

“If indeed I did rightly,” Taran replied, “Gast and Goryon will be waiting for Cornillo's
calves. Gast said they were always twins. I only hope,” he added with a grin, “that she
doesn't disappoint us.”

I
T WAS LONG AFTER NIGHTFALL
when the companions at last reached Caer Cadarn. Fflewddur and Gurgi were too exhausted
to do more than fling themselves onto their couches. Taran would gladly have followed
them, but Smoit took his arm and drew him to the Great Hall.

“Count your day well spent, my lad,” cried Smoit. "You've spared the cantrev from a war
and me from being drubbed into jelly. As for Gast and Goryon, how long they'll stay at
peace with each other I'll not guess. But you've taught me one thing: My dungeons are
useless. My body and bones, I'll have them walled up directly. From this day I'll try my
hand at speaking instead of smiting!

“And yet, lad,” Smoit went on, furrowing his brow, “my wits are slow. I need no man to
tell me that, and I am easier in my mind when I have a blade in my hand. Will you return
favor for favor? Stay with me in Cantrev Cadiffor.”

“Sire,” Taran answered, “I seek to learn who my kinsmen are. I cannot...”

“Kinsmen!” shouted Smoit, slapping his great girth. “There's enough of me to make all the
kinsmen you could want! Hear me well,” he added, his voice quieter now, “a widower am I,
and childless. Do you yearn for parents? No less do I yearn for a son. When the horn of
Gwyn the Hunter sounds for me, there shall be none to take my place, and none would I
choose but you. Stay, lad, and you shall one day be King of Cadiffor.”

“King of Cadiffor?” Taran cried. His heart leaped. What need to seek the Mirror when he
could offer Eilonwy a royal throne, the proudest gift he could ever lay at her feet? Taran
King of Cadiffor. The words rang more sweetly in his ears than Taran Assistant Pig-Keeper.
Yet suddenly his joy turned cold. While Eilonwy might honor his rank, could she respect
him for abandoning his quest even before it had begun? Could he respect himself? For a
long while Taran did not answer, then with fond admiration he turned his eyes to Smoit.