14

The gentle rocking of the boat lulled September back to sleep. She felt tired after the early start. Cynddylig had been good to his word and had roused her and Tudfwlch before it was light. They had eaten a quick breakfast of bread and cheese and then loaded the boat before the Sun rose. Now the monotony of travel on the river was making September listless and drowsy. The tall trees that crowded the banks of the wide river prevented any sight of the land and the view remained the same hour after hour.

The Sun had risen in a cloudless sky and the temperature was rising. Only September’s metal cloak kept her from becoming over heated. The only thing that stopped her dropping off into a deep slumber was the discomfort of sitting amongst bundles and barrels.

Cynddylig was silent as ever, his hand on the tiller and his face a picture of concentration. September wondered whether some mental power was needed to keep the magical motor propelling them through the water but Cynddylig didn’t seem keen to talk about it.

Tudfwlch sat in the bow again, ostensibly watching for dangers but he seemed mesmerised by the passing water. He hadn’t spoken or moved for quite a while.

“Tudfwlch,” she said. There was no reply. She said his name again, louder, and he stirred, turning to face her.

“Sorry, September, I was day dreaming.”

“I thought so.”

“Did you want something?”

“Other than to get off this boat? No, not really. It’s not very interesting is it, and we’ve got days and days of it with nothing different to see.”

“Well, the land will change, you’ll see, and we will pass some other communities further along.”

“Yes, but it’s pretty boring now. Can you tell me another story or something?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about something about yourself?”

“There’s not a lot to tell. I was born in Amaethaderyn, like my parents before me and their parents before them. Actually, that’s not true. One grandfather came from a village further down the river. My parents are leather workers using the skins of the cattle and pigs that we have in the village. I would have joined them but when I was seven years old I showed I had the potential to be a bearer of Haearn.”

“How did you find out?”

“Every year at our midsummer festival all the seven year olds are assessed by the cludyddau. My year was the first time that Iorwerth was the Cludydd o Haearn. I can remember everything that happened. I was watching him working the iron at his forge. As he hammered the metal he sang the songs of Mawrth and in no time the lump of iron became a knife or buckle. He handed me a hammer and held a piece of red-hot Haearn on his anvil. He told me to beat it into a hook. I didn’t know the words but I felt I knew what to do and the metal almost shaped itself. Iorwerth was impressed and told my parents that I could be a cludydd myself, if I studied hard. My parents were pleased for me and so I joined Iorwerth as his apprentice. Now my two younger sisters will have to take over the leatherwork from my parents.”

“What’s the singing all about? Surely you just have to hammer the iron into shape?”

“Oh no, there’s much more to being a Cludydd o Haearn than just beating the metal. The songs give the Haearn power.”

“What power?”

“There are songs that help a blade keep its sharp edge and prevent it from snapping, others for making wheels run smoothly. There are songs that I haven’t learnt yet for making all the parts of this boat’s engine work together and harnessing the power of the Aur. Not even Iorwerth is that skilled.”

“When will you be qualified?”

Tudfwlch shrugged. “When I’m needed. While Iorwerth lives I will be his assistant, unless I travel to another village that has need of a Cludydd o Haearn.”

“So, that’s why you want to travel, to find a vacancy,” September spoke lightly, kidding Tudfwlch, but he frowned at her.

“No, but yes. What I mean is I would be happy working with Iorwerth for as long as he lives, and I hope that will be a long time. I have no wish to leave Amaethaderyn, but I would like to travel to learn how cludyddau work in other places.”

“I’m sure that would be a good idea. It seems that there is not much mixing of people from one place and another here.”

“Is it different in your world?” Tudfwlch asked.

“Yes, I think it is,” September suddenly felt homesick.

“Tell me about your home,” Tudfwlch insisted.

“Well, everything is different. There are a lot more people for a start. We don’t just have villages with a few people we have towns and cities with millions, all living close together and relying on each other for food and water and energy and, well everything.”

“Millions of people? I can’t imagine such a number.”

“Well, neither can I really, but they are there, filling up our planet and using the resources.”

“And they all travel?”

“Not all, but I suppose a lot do, for work and holidays.”

“Holidays? A holiday is when everyone gets together and eats and drinks and sings to celebrate something.”

“Oh, we have holidays like that but we also have holidays when we go off and sit on a beach for a couple of weeks.”

Tudfwlch shook his head, “I hear your words but I do not understand what you say. Your world seems so confusing.”

 

They continued talking for much of the day about their respective homes while Cynddylig maintained his silence. September felt that she had learned more about the slow, peaceful lives of the people of Gwlad, their spirit of cooperation and their quiet endeavours to provide the necessities of life from the resources around them. In some ways it sounded an idyllic life but September also wondered whether she would be bored without the diversions of TV and computers and visiting the shops to choose new clothes. She had tried to explain her own life but Tudfwlch seemed to have got an impression just of noise and chaos and waste, which she had to admit, was not far from the truth.

She wondered what her mother’s feelings about Gwlad were, if indeed she had been the Cludydd that banished the Malevolence the last time it had arisen. September noted that her mother seemed to value everything that was good about the way of life in Gwlad and tried to maintain a steady, peaceful lifestyle despite having six children to raise. She pondered on her Mother’s apparently strong Christian beliefs while the people of Gwlad believed in the power of the seven metals and the seven heavenly bodies that governed them.

As the Sun sank below the trees ahead of them, Cynddylig pointed the boat to the bank, again finding a spot where they could get ashore and make camp. September was glad of the activity after a day in the boat. She helped Tudfwlch collect dry wood for the camp fire and chopped vegetables for Cynddylig’s soup. Despite being largely the same ingredients he was able to make the flavour different and appetising.

They were settling into their sleeping bags when September heard the faint sound of the horn. This time she knew where the sound was coming from and quickly got the copper instrument from her pouch.

“Hello, Mordeyrn,” she said .

“Ah, please call me Aurddolen. Mordeyrn is rather too formal for these little chats. You and your companions are well?”

“Yes, it’s been a very quiet day. We were on the river from sunrise to sunset.”

“Good, you will have travelled a fair distance.”

“It’s pretty boring though. There’s nothing to see. And it’s going to be the same for lots of days yet, so Cynddylig says.”

“That is true, Cludydd, but please do not hope for a livelier journey. I fear that you will meet enough excitement along the way. Sleep well and prepare for more travel.”

“I will, and please call me September.”

“Ah, yes, I must recall your familiar name.”

“And what about your journey? Have you arrived at the town, Dwy... whatever it’s called?”

“Yes, I am relieved to say we got here, this afternoon. Tomorrow we ascend to the upper town and start the trek into the hills. Good night, September.”

The horn went silent before September had an opportunity to ask him what he meant by the upper town. She was a little worried by his warning of excitements to come but she found her eyes becoming heavy as she snuggled under the woollen covers.

 

The following morning saw them in their accustomed places in the boat.

“Today you will have something to see,” Cynddylig said without enlightening September further. For the first couple of hours everything looked much the same, tree after tree lining the banks. Then September did notice a difference. The trees thinned out and there seemed to be signs of cultivation in the clearings. She even thought she saw people moving. Rounding a broad bend in the river, September had a real view for once. The river branched. There was a tributary on the left joining the main river with the arch of a bridge over it linking two clusters of buildings. As the boat carried them closer, September could see that the bridge and the buildings were constructed of wood with the walls of the one and two storey houses filled in with red mud.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Abercyflym,” Cynddylig replied, “a very old town. It’s two rivers provide it with fish and the Afon Cyflym brings goods from the south.”

“Is it bigger than Amaethaderyn?”

“It’s difficult to say. At times in the past when there was more trade it has been an important market town, but now I doubt whether more live here than at Amaethaderyn.”

“Are we stopping?” Tudfwlch asked turning to face the stern.

“No lad. We have no need of supplies yet, and we have a long way to go.” September was disappointed to hear that she wouldn’t have the chance to leave the boat and look around somewhere new but she understood Cynddylig’s desire to press on. Nevertheless, as they drew close to the village, people came to the waterfront and waved to them. Tudfwlch and September waved back. The boat rocked as the fast moving water from the tributary flowed into the main stream.

“I wouldn’t show yourself too much, lass, if I were you,” Cynddylig warned.

“Why not?”

“Well, that silver robe of yours marks you out as someone special and while the Malevolence cannot see you with it around you, someone with eyes can spot you and may wonder. If evil touches their heart your whereabouts will be known.”

“But the people looked normal and pleased to see us.”

“Things may look normal but evil can lurk unseen until the moment arrives.”

“What moment?”

“Cynddylig is making things up,” Tudfwlch said.

“I am not making things up, young man. You know as well as I do that a person can be turned by the Malevolence and await its bidding.”

“So it is said, but I have never seen it.”

“You haven’t lived, lad, nor seen much at all in your young life.”

“Yes, well...”

“Wait and see. We may come upon things you’d wish you hadn’t seen.”

Already the village of Abercyflym was receding behind them and September looked back, struggling to take in every last detail of the place to contrast with the returning monotony of the tree lined banks.

“Do you know anyone there?” September asked.

“Yes, I do,” Cynddylig’s voice took on a wistful tone, “there was a young woman. Well she was young, old now, my age. I nearly settled in Abercyflym as it happens, but well, there was work to do elsewhere, so I moved on.”

 

It was another cloudless, hot day and September was glad to wrap the cloak around her to reflect the bulk of the Sun’s energy. They talked more about the villages along the river and September began to get more of an impression of Gwlad. It was a vast continent with small widely spaced communities which were largely self-sufficient, taking advantage of the resources available where they were situated. Trade was largely confined to precious commodities like metals and finished articles such as the leather goods that Tudfwlch’s family manufactured.

When they camped for the night, September was eager for the Mordeyrn’s call on the copper instrument so that she could tell him that they had passed the landmark that the village had been. He was pleased with their progress and announced that he was now walking into the hills and only a couple of days climb away from the Arsyllfa.

 

The following day dawned overcast. September was pleased as it seemed to indicate that the day would be cooler but Cynddylig was not so happy.

“Cloud means rain,” he said as they settled into the day’s travel. Sure enough within the hour a steady drizzle began. September drew the cloak around her with the hood pulled tight over her head and sat hunched amongst the bundles. The rain wasn’t cold but the drip that seemed to find its way between her breasts was annoying. Cynddylig and Tudfwlch sat covered by waxed cloth sheets looking miserable. The pitter-patter of the raindrops on the boat and the water made talk difficult so they continued on their way without conversation.

 

The cloud became heavier and lower and at the same the river narrowed and took a more twisted route through the trees which grew up over low hills on both sides of the river. September peered through the mist at what looked like a dead end ahead. Only as they got close to the bank did the course of the river open up to the left or the right. September was glad that Cynddylig was steering and apparently knew the route because she was thoroughly confused by the river’s twists and turns while the rain fell and clouds clung to the water.

They swung around a bend, to find their passage obscured. Looming out of the grey mist was another vessel, bearing down on them at a speed that exceeded the flow of the water. Tudfwlch shouted, September screamed and the little boat lurched as Cynddylig flung the tiller over. The approaching boat was ten times their size, a barge, churning up a bow wave of white water. In what felt like a lifetime but was actually just a few seconds they moved out of its path but the danger was not yet over. As the boat slid past them, its sides just a few metres away, September peered up at the towering bulk of the vessel. Its wide wooden planks were stacked one above the other up to the sky but in fact it was just three or four metres from water level to gunwales. Their small craft bucked as it passed over the wash. For a moment September thought they may capsize but with the danger of a collision averted Cynddylig steered into the waves and the boat began to cut through the crests instead of rolling off them. As they passed the stern of the larger vessel, September looked up and saw crewmen looking down on them waving excitedly but then the craft’s speed carried them onwards and there was no opportunity to exchange so much as a word. She watched as the barge rounded the bend and disappeared from view.

“What was that?” September shouted to Cynddylig.

“Ah, one of the great vessels of the river,” he called back, “It carries trade goods from Dwytrefrhaedr to the coast and back again. I think that was the Gleisiad.”

“What does that mean?”

“It is a fish that swims up river from the ocean to the higher reaches. Red of flesh.”

“A salmon?”

Cynddylig shrugged and concentrated on getting them back on course. Tudfwlch settled back down beneath his sheeting and September pulled her cloak tight.

Shortly the rain eased and the clouds lifted and parted. The Sun shone and their moods lifted. September turned to speak to Cynddylig.

“I didn’t see any sails on that boat. What pushes it through the water?”

“The same as this vessel.”

“What, a gold nugget and an iron motor?”

“The very same although somewhat bigger than the engine we have. It’s the Sun that gives Gleisiad her power.”

“Are there many boats like the Gleisiad?”

“Not as many as there once were, not that there were ever many of her size. I suppose there are still two or three doing the coast run.”

“That’s not many boats for a country this big.”

“There are more, smaller, vessels like this.”

September looked around her.

“This hardly carries much for trading and the Gleisiad, although she looked frighteningly huge when she was about to run us down, wasn’t a ship. But why are there fewer boats like that one?”

“There’s less trade these days. People are scared by talk of the Malevolence attacking vessels and turning people to theft and murder.”

“People are less prepared to entrust their wares to travelling tradesmen,” Tudfwlch added.

“What about the crew of the Gleisiad?”

“What about them, lass?”

“Were they as surprised to see us as we were to see them? They were waving but they didn’t seem happy.”

“It was raining and they had nearly run us down,” Tudfwlch said.

“Aye lad, but the girl’s right, there was something else in their signals. A warning perhaps.”

They fell silent, pondering what they had seen, trying to elicit meaning in the gestures the crew had made to them. September was trying to imagine a fleet of the sun-powered vessels sliding effortlessly up and down the river and what it would be like when one called at the villages along the banks.

 

At last they stopped to make camp and they performed their now accustomed tasks. Cynddylig looked into the sack of root vegetables.

“It will be good if we can re-stock some of our supplies tomorrow,” he said.

“Oh, how are we going to do that?” September asked.

“We should reach another village, Glanyrafon, tomorrow. I know a few people there. I am sure they will help us. But you will have to be discreet. I don’t want other people to know who you are.”

“That’s a bit difficult when I’m wearing this cloak all the time. As you said, it marks me out as someone special.”

“Yes, well keep out of the way when we land and we’ll think of something. I don’t really want to stop and meet people, just in case we attract too much interest, but the Glanyrafon people are good folk. There won’t be any stops after there.”

After they had eaten, September spoke to the Mordeyrn through the horn. There was more to talk about this evening. She told him about their near disaster with the Gleisiad.

“Those vessels move at speed. We passed her only a few days ago.”

“It’s a shame I couldn’t travel on a big, fast boat. I would have caught you up more quickly.”

“I understand September, but unfortunately there are few vessels of the Gleisiad’s class in Gwlad these days and none were available to help you.”

September went on to tell him about Cynddylig’s plan to stop off at the next village.

“Ah, tell him to take great care but I am sure it will be safe. We didn’t stop at Glanyrafon but it is your last chance to pick up provisions for some time.”

As September settled down she wondered how far they had travelled in the four days since they had left Amaethaderyn. Three days of travelling from dawn to dusk. Cynddylig was rather vague about distances and September couldn’t gauge how fast their little boat moved, but it was considerably faster than walking pace. Two or three hundred kilometres perhaps. September knew there were many hundreds of kilometres still ahead of them.