Rhodri entertained Rhian with the tales of Gwyn’s public outrage and private plotting, keeping a light tone on it to mask the very real fear that neither of the captives would survive. She interrupted him once to ask him to make sure a letter got to Brynach. She’d give it to him, this evening.
So, it runs in that direction, Rhodri thought. Well, and why not. It will only help her here, a relative of the queen.
George slept all the way in despite the jolts of the road, his head pillowed in a virgin’s lap like a mythical unicorn. Who rescued whom, he wondered. He wanted to hear the full tale.
The guards at the castle gate waved them in, the last stragglers of the hunting party in the late afternoon. Rhodri dismounted and handed his horse off to a groom, and roused George with difficulty, enough that he could walk into the building on his own. The people stared, and he looked at him with fresh eyes.
No wonder, he thought. A large man, barefoot and bare-legged, bearded and dirty, clearly unclothed under the belted cloak with his muscled arms exposed. He looks uncanny, like a wild man, a green man, straight out of legend. This story would spread, he was sure of it.
Morien organized a room for George and another for Rhian, both in the same wing as Rhodri, and near each other.
He introduced Rhian to a senior woman on the staff and said, “Go with Morwen now, Rhian, and Rhodri or I will see you before dinner to bring you in. She’ll get you whatever you need.”
Rhian glanced at Rhodri for reassurance, and he said, “This will be like home, Rhian. You’re safe now. We’ll take care of George.”
She nodded and plodded wearily after the woman.
Morien himself led George to a room, collecting servants along the way as he went and making arrangements.
In his chamber, the servants had George stand in a large flat basin while they used cloths with hot water and soap to clean him off. It took two changes of water before he was cleaned up and the cut on his arm bandaged. He drowsed on his feet through most of it, and Rhodri helped him stay upright.
Before they were done, a tailor appeared and took rough measurements.
“Can you work up something suitable for meeting with the king?” Morien asked him.
“He’s too large to just adapt something, so it will all have to be new-made. Basic attire can be ready for the morning, and better during the day.”
“That will do,” Morien said.
He turned to Rhodri. “What colors does he favor?”
“Green, forest green,” Rhodri said. “And plainly ornamented. Huntsman’s clothing, and boots.”
After they dried him off, they put him to bed and he sank into a deep sleep, curled on his side. His hand clutched Angharad’s pendant, only visible where he held it. He hadn’t spoken a word since he left the wagon.
Morien dismissed the servants and took a seat at a round table before the window in the room. He invited Rhodri to join him.
“I don’t believe that he will be joining my lord king for dinner this evening,” he said.
Rhodri laughed quietly. “I’m not sure he’ll be up for dinner tomorrow, at this rate.”
Morien smiled. “Sleep is the best thing for him. Llefelys will understand.”
There was a knock on the door, and a servant entered with a light refreshment for them, breads and meats. Two dogs came in with him and took up position next to the bed, then laid down.
“Whose dogs are those?” Morien asked the servant.
“I don’t know, my lord. They were waiting at the door.”
Morien looked at Rhodri quizzically.
When the servant opened the door to leave, there were three more dogs and one circumspect cat waiting to come in. He glanced back at Morien who shrugged and gestured to let them in.
“Leave the door open,” he called. “I want to see what will happen next.”
Rhodri’s eye was caught by movement and he looked up. There were mice, in plain sight, on the rafters over the bed.
He pointed them out to Morien. “Could get crowded in here,” he commented with a chuckle, as another dog walked in and joined the growing pack, curled up together. The cat had sole possession of the bed, until another slunk in and joined it.
“Well, it looks like they’re all getting along,” Morien said, placidly. “As long as it’s peaceable, let’s leave it alone.”
He glanced at Rhodri.
“I noticed the scars,” he said, “and of course I’ve heard that song about the death of Madog.”
Rhodri winced.
“What can you tell me about the truth of all this?” Morien said.
“The song is accurate, assuming the version you heard hasn’t changed much,” Rhodri said. “I was there when Cydifor composed it.”
He didn’t like to speak of it, but Morien should know. “Madog kidnapped Rhys, Rhian’s brother, Gwyn’s foster-son, and George went after him and was captured, too. Madog had him tortured, by a man named Scilti, and he suffered much damage. He was dying when we got him back. Cernunnos healed all of it, except the wounds along his back where Scilti had laid hot irons to him. Or rather, he healed them, but left the scars as a reminder. The other injuries were healed entirely.”
Morien grunted noncommittally. “And Madog?”
“George arranged his death by an ambush but it was at the hand of another.” Rhodri looked directly at Morien. “I’m not at liberty to say much more without my lord’s permission.”
Morien nodded. “I understand.”
A pair of terriers and a great hound ambled in past the half-open door and laid down, and two more cats hopped up onto the bed.
Rhodri snorted. “This is ridiculous.”
“Fascinating,” Morien replied.
It came upon Angharad so suddenly that she dropped her brush and had to sit down. Gwyn looked up from his reports.
“What is it? What’s happened?” he asked.
“It’s George. He feels almost normal again. I’m sure of it.”
Gwyn shoved aside the papers he’d brought in to share with her in her suite, keeping her company while she worked.
“He’s on the move. Something’s happened.”
“Not hurt?” Gwyn asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” She looked at him, her eyes shining. “Maybe he got away. Maybe they both did.”
“If you’d kept a tighter rein on the little chit, she’d never have been able to plot this escape.”
Creiddylad was infuriated at Gwythyr’s failure. A thorough search of Rhian’s rooms had revealed the patches of stolen cloth and the cache above the window with its telltale crumbs. There were no witnesses to the actual assault on the guards at the postern gate, but one had clearly been trampled, so they assumed Rhian had killed the other.
To think of that fifteen-year old girl besting Gwythyr, one of the best warriors of his era, and having the nerve to kill the guard, she thought. Where did she get the knife?
“She took you in like a little child, with her sweet face. What did she do, flatter the big strong man? You could at least have made a better effort to pursue them.”
Gwythyr looked at her with a face of stone. “The horses and hounds were uncontrollable, you know that. That courier she unhorsed died, too, which makes two of my men she owes me. Believe me, she will pay for them when I retrieve her at Nos Galan Mai.”
He continued, “Tell me, sweetling.” She winced at his sarcasm. “How many days did you work on that huntsman, and to what end? He was clearly never under your control.”
Just today a servant cleaning up George’s room had summoned them to show them the charcoal scrawls he’d found outside the window.
George.
Don’t drink.
Lies.
Enemies.
Listen to animals.
How long had that been there, she wondered. It had to be that time he got out, he must have met Rhian in the garden. She’d never told Gwythyr about it, she was afraid of his wrath.
Let Gwythyr be furious for now, she thought. He’s lucky. He’s too angry to be afraid. Not me. She remembered George tearing apart the room and crashing the furniture against the wall that stood between them. That had been personal. That was Cernunnos. She thought with dread of what happens to those who anger the gods.
It had taken them three days to rid the castle of the vermin that had come over the wall, and she was still tired from the effort it had taken to work that much magic. No wonder her temper was short. What would Cernunnos do to them once he had the time to consider carefully?
She calmed herself. They had to stick together. “What about your domain here?” she said. “Will Llefelys do anything? Does he even know?”
“If he doesn’t yet, he will soon. Where else would they go?”
Gwyn read Rhodri’s note from the courier for the third time in a row that night, letting it fully sink in. It had been written in haste, the harbinger of good news. Everyone found, no one hurt. They freed themselves from Calubriga. Llefelys was hosting them, and indignant against his vassal Gwythyr. Details to follow.
It seemed too good to be true. I’m sure they are not truly unhurt, but still there was apparently no permanent harm, he thought. Better than I deserve.
Rhodri asks me what he can tell them about the rock-wights. Morien wants to know, and so, by implication, does Llefelys.
So, what does this mean, he considered. I think I can move Llefelys from his famous neutrality if I do this right.
He wrote to Rhodri,
If you trust them, then tell them everything. Answer whatever they ask.
There were no secrets he needed to keep from Llefelys, he thought, and that will win him allies in the long run.
He will have a price, he reminded himself. Not a bribe, more a favor, something he will want.
Gwyn added to the note,
If Llefelys will consider an alliance, he may ask what he will.
Now off to tell Angharad, though I suppose she already knows, doesn’t she. A message for Brynach, from Rhian, was enclosed. That made him smile.
And he’d better scribble a note for Eurig, hadn’t he. They would all rejoice at home, and he wanted to make sure Seething Magma stayed put.
What to do with George and Rhian now? Better to keep them both in Gaul for a while, he thought. Fewer enemies. I’ll send Ceridwen tonight, and maybe she can bring her colleagues there instead of visiting them. Let them see George for themselves. Let them talk to Cernunnos, if he’ll oblige them.
Rhodri dropped in on George very early the next day, well before the morning meal, but Morien was there before him. George remained asleep, and there were still animals underfoot in the room.
Rhian had come by twice in the evening, once before dinner, and once late, before bed. She’d dispersed the animals each time by bespeaking them to “go home.” Nevertheless, throughout the evening people dropped by on the excuse of seeking their pets, though many clearly came just to see the comedy for themselves. There was no keeping the situation quiet.
As Rhodri looked around, Morien pointed out some of the new beasts to him. Two little bats hung from the top of the bedstead, and a small owl blinked uncomfortably from a rafter. “Wildlife, too?” Rhodri said.
“The ones who could get in, anyway.” Morien replied. “I suppose we’re lucky not to be closer to the stables.”
“You weren’t here all night, were you?”
“No, I had a couple of servants keep watch, just in case anything changed,” Morien said. “Come, join me. I don’t think he’ll sleep much longer, and I wanted to be here when he woke up.”
As they chatted quietly, they were surprised by a soft knock on the open door and the entrance of Ceridwen. Morien and she were already well-acquainted. She handed Rhodri some correspondence from Gwyn and pulled up a chair to join them at the table.
Another cat crept into the room, and Ceridwen listened with amusement to Rhodri’s summary of the situation.
Morien asked, “What is it he’s clutching, around his neck? I can’t get a good look at it.”
“That’s a simple directional charm from his wife, Angharad,” she said. “It’s only detectable when it’s away from his skin, so it’s hard to see when he wears it. I’m sure he finds it comforting.”
“I take it Gwyn got the news last night?” Rhodri said.
“That’s why I’m here,” she replied. “I’ll tell you all about it once he wakes up…” She paused and cocked her head at the bed. “…and he’s listening to us now.”
She raised her voice, “Welcome back, George. We’re all very glad that you and Rhian are well.” She cleared her throat. “You are well, are you not?”
George blinked. He’d heard Ceridwen’s voice and forgotten where he was for a moment.
He sat up in bed and stared at the cats curled up against his legs. The dogs on the floor roused at his movement. “What’s going on? What is all this?”
Rhodri laughingly directed his eyes to the rafters for more. “I think this may be some of that ‘leakage’ you were talking about yesterday.”
“What am I supposed to do with them?”
Morien said, “Rhian had some luck with ‘go home.’ You might try it. Then we probably need to work on some adjustments.”
George looked around bemused at all the animals. “Alright, gang, I can’t take you with me and, besides, I’m sure there’s someplace you’re supposed to be.” He started by bespeaking the wild animals first, and watched the bats flit away, down the corridor. He had to prod the sleepy owl a bit more forcefully.
“Dogs next,” he said, and they stood and stretched before trotting out of the room purposefully.
“Don’t make me tell you twice,” he said to the cats. They took their time about it, but each of the half-dozen on the bed dropped to the floor as if it were its own idea and took its time pacing to the doorway.
“That’s better,” Rhodri said.
George felt a pulse of warmth that was still unaccounted for and sought for it under the covers. He brought forth a small black kitten about the size of his two hands. It blinked yellow eyes at him and yawned, exhibiting little needle-sharp teeth. It ignored him when he bid it to leave.
“What about this one?”
“No one knows who he is,” Morien said. “When he arrived he claimed a space for himself and everyone left him alone. Rhian cleaned him up on the outside and I took care of his parasites. I think this one is yours now, no home to go to.”
What am I supposed to do with a kitten, he thought. It purred at him. Enchanted, he stroked its cheek with a finger and the purring got louder.
He stopped himself from falling deeply into his beast-sense again and caught a big grin on Rhodri’s face. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said.
“I was just thinking. I forgot to tell you, you’re a father now, of 27. Whelps, that is.”
“Are the dams alright? Did everything go well?” He remembered his dream about the puppies.
“As far as I know, everything’s fine.”
George suddenly looked at Morien. “Wait, wasn’t I supposed to dine with Llefelys? Was that just last night?” He looked around at the morning light in the window and raised his eyebrows. “I seem to have overslept.”
“We’ll make it breakfast instead,” Morien said. “They’re expecting you.”
Ceridwen put a small leather pouch on the table she shared with Morien and Rhodri. “The contents of your pockets. They left it all behind.”
She opened it and reached in. “You’ll be pleased to see this,” she said, and pulled out his pocket watch. Morien examined it with interest.
“I’ll be glad to explain it to you in detail, later, if you’ll just let me get up and dress,” George said, exasperated. Rhodri grinned and ushered them out.
Before Ceridwen left, she placed a letter on the table for him. “From Angharad,” she said.
He threw back the covers and snatched it up as she closed the door.
Angharad wrote how she had felt him, from afar, through her amulet, and how she had known the moment he recovered, yesterday. She made light of her own predicament, joking about how uncomfortable she was making it for Lludd while still obeying his commands. She gave him the news about Maelgwn tracking their captors, and being sent home by Gwyn, a precaution with which he agreed. It was altogether heartening, despite the lack of any advance in her own situation.
His companions waited outside in the corridor while he hurriedly dressed.
He draped Coronwen’s cloak over his arm and opened the door to leave. The kitten rocketed past him into the corridor and sat there waiting for him, expectantly. “Go back in and stay there,” he told it. The kitten washed a paw diligently and ignored him. Morien looked down at the kitten, then up at George.
George sighed. He picked the kitten up and placed him on his left shoulder, and felt the little claws dig into the wool of his new jacket. There was no sense of distress from its mind, so he let it be and joined his companions. Rhodri tried to maintain a straight face at the sight, but failed. Even Ceridwen had to cover her mouth with her hand.
“What, you’ve never seen a man with a kitten before?” George asked, straight-faced. “Come along, let’s not keep them waiting.”
