Brynach took the lead as they entered the gates of Taironnen, his great-uncle’s estate, late in the morning several days later. The little party on horseback followed, George and Angharad together, and Maelgwn at the rear. George had come here for hound walks before but had not yet been inside and was looking forward to it, a mid-day meal and afternoon visit.
Why had Eurig suddenly issued this invitation to spend the day, just the two families together? He didn’t think it was only friendship. Angharad had suggested he wait and see, and she’d known Eurig a long time. He’d agreed to be patient.
As they approached the stables, Tegwen emerged to greet them and directed the grooms to take their horses. George noticed again her erect posture and the dignity in her movements. This, he thought, is one way the elder fae manifested their age, in an economy of movement that the younger ones had yet to achieve.
George asked, as they walked toward the great house, “What are your primary crops, my lady? We see so much of Eurig at court, I imagine you’re the one in charge here.”
Tegwen laughed. “You have it right, huntsman. I have a great fondness for the land and what the land produces. We’re best known for our grains, wheat and barley, and for the beer we brew. I have a knack for cattle, too. We have dairy and beef stock, and some of the best oxen you’re likely to see. We tried the local buffalo for a while, but it was just too hard to tame them, they kept escaping.”
“I told them that,” Brynach said.
“You’ll taste some of our cheeses, today,” Tegwen said. “Naturally we supply the court and the local area. We have industry, too, besides the brewing. We’re the tannery for the region, and there’s another mill here, like the one in Greenhollow.”
George was curious. “How many people do you support?”
“It’s not that simple. Many who work here live here, but many don’t. Some we employ directly, for wages, some we house, and others rent from us. Depending on how you count it… dozens, certainly. Maybe a hundred or two, including their families. Not so many as Greenway Court, of course, with its guards and administrators and craftsmen, but not very much smaller.”
George thought about that. The local population, say the surrounding ten or twenty miles, must be several thousand strong, partly in villages like Greenhollow, and partly in great estates like this one.
Near the house, three large vase-shaped elms shielded the southeast corner, tall and stately trees even in their winter bareness.
“Tegwen,” Angharad said, “I’d like to paint those trees again, now that they’re more mature. I remember when you planted them. How well they’ve turned out.”
“Yes, dear, let’s do that,” Tegwen said.
Healthy elms without Dutch elm disease, George thought. And a wife who talks casually about watching trees grow for hundreds of years. And Tegwen, she treats her as a daughter, a youngster. I wonder if she’s even older than Ceridwen?
It made him turn and look fondly at Angharad, and she raised an eyebrow in mute question, but he just shook his head and smiled.
Eurig came to the door of the manor himself to greet them, and welcomed them into the great hall at the center of the building.
George walked a few feet into the space and stopped so abruptly that Maelgwn almost bumped into him. There were hunting trophies everywhere, not just heads and antler mounts, but actual stuffed animals. My god, that was the head of a mastodon, it must be, very like an elephant, with broadly spread tusks. He walked over to stare at it, and next to it was a good-sized tapir, with its odd nose, just like Brynach had said. He glanced past the impressive but familiar boar heads and came to a group of three wolves done as whole animal mounts. They weren’t all that tall, but they were heavier than he expected, stocky. Dire wolves? He couldn’t place some of the antler configurations, either.
He realized Eurig was speaking to him, and he tried to rein in his fascination. “Sorry, Eurig, I was admiring your exhibition. What did you say?”
Eurig laughed. “I was starting to tell you about them when we lost you. We like to surprise our occasional visitors from the old world by putting the local beasts prominently on display.”
Surprises me, too, George thought. “All of these animals are still living here, right?”
“Of course they’re still here, where else would they be?” Eurig said.
“How do the mounts stay so fresh?”
“It’s not hard to preserve them from simple harm.”
George asked Angharad, “It’s the same way your work in your house in the village is protected from damage by the winter cold, isn’t it?”
“I would imagine so,” she told him.
On low shelves Eurig displayed fossils and minerals, curiosities he had discovered or, as he mentioned, that he’d obtained from other explorers.
“You should talk to the rock-wights,” George told him. “Think of all the minerals they’ve seen.”
Something was missing, though. What was it? Ah, he realized, I would expect to see flint blades, arrowheads, bits of clay pipes—all the detritus of former occupation that would appeal to an antiquarian. But the fae were the first to colonize these lands. He was oppressed by a sudden sense of the emptiness of the lands to the west, and shivered.
Maelgwn, he saw, was riveted by the animal mounts. “Sir,” he asked Eurig, “How did you decide which were worthy of display?”
“I only wanted a few specimens, otherwise we’d all live surrounded by bones. Once I chose, I determined not to replace my choice. I made an exception for the dire wolves. For a while, until they learned to avoid us, we spent quite some time reducing their threat. They hunt prey in small packs like old world wolves, but when we chase them with hounds, we settle on one at a time. So those three,” he said, pointing at the group, “came from the same year, but three separate hunts. I wanted to show them as we found them, before singling out a quarry.”
“You know,” he said to George, “many times in the early years the hunt would be called out to cull problem animals of all sorts, until they learned respect. Of course, we couldn’t use the pack for everything.” He waved his hand at the mastodon. “Now we’ve settled on the quarry that gives us the most pleasure, but I miss the surprises of the old days.”
He led them along to the wall with paired antlers ascending into the gloom. “These take up less space, happily,” he continued.
George identified moose and white-tail racks, and elk, the red deer of the new world. He stood below a column of the latter and followed it up the wall with his eyes. Angharad joined him. “What, looking to see if they’re bigger than yours?”
He choked on a response. Before he could defend himself, she added, with a straight face, “I married the man, not his antlers.”
He felt himself redden at the laughs of Eurig and Tegwen behind him, well within earshot, and raised his hands in mock defeat. Maelgwn’s grin didn’t help, and even Brynach hid a smile behind his raised hand. Back of it all, he was touched by the warmth of her teasing, the intimacy of their understanding, this new sense of family that could only deepen and grow. His stomach clenched with the thought of anything threatening it.
Gwyn’s continued and successful rule was his bulwark in the upcoming upheaval, and he felt the urgent pull to defend it, to keep his family safe. He itched to get on with it, and his mood sobered. Could Lludd defeat Gwyn? What would that mean if he did?
As if catching the change in atmosphere, Tegwen said, “Come with me. We’ve arranged a meal in our private rooms, since we’re such a small group.”
They followed her deeper into the manor house and came to a pleasant chamber with a view west to the Blue Ridge. A wooden floor overlaid the stone foundations and supported flowered rugs, and the plastered walls were softened with paintings.
“They all look like your work,” George said to Angharad. “Is that so?”
She nodded.
Along one side was a series of five studies of the house, beginning with the first raising of the walls. The next showed the main building, without its wings. By the third, the wings had sprouted, and George realized he could see the three young saplings that would become the giant elms of today. The fourth study pulled back to show a longer view of the house and its nearer outbuildings with the full height of the Blue Ridge behind it. The lines of all the buildings were softened and mellowed, fitting into their landscape like permanent features. The fifth and final study showed a close view of the house in winter, surrounded by snow, strong and secure.
“Plenty of room for another one,” Tegwen commented to Angharad.
“I’d like to wait for summer, to get the elms in their full glory.”
Eurig walked George and Maelgwn along the portraits and called out names. There were too many for him to remember. He kept reminding himself, these are Eurig’s descendants, mostly, not his ancestors, and they’re probably still alive. That was one of the hardest things to get used to.
“Are any of your children here, in the new world?” he asked.
“None. They were all grown well before I came and made their own choices. Brynach, here,” he draped an arm over the young man’s shoulder, “is the youngest of my youngest sister’s daughter’s children. It seems he was fired with enthusiasm for coming to see me. Can’t think why. Me, I’ve missed having a youngster about.”
George could tell this was a familiar dig for Brynach. “You can’t imagine how well known they are, huntsman,” he said, gesturing to both Eurig and Tegwen. “And I wanted to see this new world that so few seem to care about. I’m in their debt for taking charge of me.”
George waved his hand loosely at the portraits and asked Angharad, “If they didn’t come over, when did you paint them?”
“I was at court with Lludd for many years and did them then. Eurig and Tegwen brought them with them from their old estate.”
Tegwen led them to their seats at the table. She kept George at her right hand, and Brynach at her left, while Eurig did the same with Angharad and Maelgwn. The table could hold a few more people at need, but it was not a large banqueting table like those in the great hall at Greenway Court.
Two servants busied themselves with a simple meal, serving from a platter of steaming roast beef and potatoes. Fresh breads and a selection of cheeses both sharp and mellow offered contrast, and George was not surprised to be offered beer. “All from the estate,” Eurig declared, proudly. “My Tegwen does a fine job.”
“How did you two meet?” George asked Tegwen, next to him.
“We come from Beli Mawr’s court originally, in the rural part of the west,” she said. “Both of us. Our families were close friends and our parents arranged it when we were Brynach’s age.” As if to herself, she added, “All these years together, and he still surprises me sometimes.” She patted George’s hand, on the table.
She continued, “We came east to the courts in Britain and Gaul when Beli was withdrawing from the world. He asked us to watch over his son Lludd when first he and his brother Llefelys divided their patrimony. There was some strife between them, and considerable consolidation pains for the smaller neighbors. There are always rival contenders when a king retires.”
“Good fighting in those days, worthy opponents and fine comrades,” Eurig added, from the other end of the table. George remembered the scars he carried, the one glimpse he had caught of him bathing.
Tegwen nodded. Maelgwn asked, “Did you fight, too, my lady?”
“No, not in the battles, but there were other incidents—ambushes, kidnappings, all the sorts of violent actions you might expect from an unsettled time.”
Brynach told Maelgwn, “You should see how well armed she is. That’s where I get my ideas for Rhian about how to hide knives.” He asked her, “How many are you wearing right now, aunt?”
“Well, a few. I can’t readily tell you how often having a knife has saved my life, and you can tell Rhian I said so.”
“Her knives have saved mine, too, more than once,” Eurig said, with a fond glance.
“So,” Tegwen said, “we settled in Lludd’s court for a time.”
“You’re not related to Gwyn, then,” George said.
“Not directly,” Angharad told him. “But their daughter, Coronwen, married Llefelys long ago, and they live together still.”
“Wait a minute,” George said, “let me work that out. You two are Gwyn’s uncle’s in-laws?” He glanced at Brynach, across from him. “That makes you a cousin of the King of Gaul?”
Brynach reddened. “A very young and insignificant cousin, huntsman, and only by marriage, not by blood.”
“And Gwyn’s cousin, too. I hadn’t realized we were kin, Brynach.”
“If you go back far enough, I imagine we’re all kin,” Tegwen said. George recalled Seething Magma making a similar point when they first met.
George asked Tegwen, “What was it like, when Gwyn, Edern, and Creiddylad were young, before the disaster of her marriage? Angharad told me something once, but you saw it, too, didn’t you?”
“Creiddylad was much younger than Gwyn and they were raised apart, so he never saw her until she was already a lovely grown woman. That’s not so uncommon, and what followed between them isn’t uncommon, either, if not much approved. Beli Mawr took a hand in putting a stop to it, and betrothed her to Gwythyr ap Greidawl. She was pleased, Gwyn accepted the judgment, and Gwythyr looked to increase his power as a mighty lord in both Britain and Gaul.”
Eurig interjected, “The settlement of their father’s lands and vassals between them left Lludd and Llefelys with a number of lords who owned lands in both resulting domains, and Gwythyr was one. He owes allegiance to both of them, for different lands.”
Tegwen continued. “I’m not sure what stirred Creiddylad up, boredom, perhaps. In any case, she started to taunt Gwythyr with Gwyn, and told Gwyn that Gwythyr was mistreating her. The trouble flared up out of her control when Gwyn took her seriously and abducted her from Gwythyr’s lands.”
Angharad told Maelgwn, who was listening raptly to the tale, “I heard Creiddylad went willingly. We are a similar age with friends in common. Some were there and they told me.”
Eurig said, “Gwythyr pursued them with his retainers, which included those of his guest, Pwyll. Gwyn killed many of them and captured others. He made enemies of both Gwythyr and Pwyll by this, and of Arawn, who was bound to Pwyll by obligation and friendship.”
Tegwen tilted her head and looked at George. “You already know how Gwyn was shamed by the revenge he took on his captives when he discovered Creiddylad had deceived him about Gwythyr. It was one of those that survived that you hunted on Nos Galan Gaeaf, after he killed Iolo.”
“And Isolda,” Brynach added.
George nodded. “Arawn was Prince of Annwn, then. How did he get the title?”
Eurig looked at his wife. “I don’t know the tale. Before Arawn, there was no great hunt. Cernunnos must have granted him the hunt and the duty, but I don’t know how nor what came before. I heard that Beli Mawr confirmed him in it, removing him from direct fealty to himself, but that’s all. It was before my time, Arawn is gone now, and the shame of his end silenced the tales.”
Tegwen shook her head. “I don’t know either. We followed the great hunt from the west of Britain though, as you know, it goes where it will once it starts.”
Eurig’s great gray mustaches twitched. “You’d have enjoyed seeing those hounds, huntsman. They were much wilder, then. Nothing you’d want to keep in kennels with other hounds. They’ve changed over the years—just as keen, but more capable of passing along their blood without tearing apart the rest of the pack.”
“Were they still white, with the red ear tips?” George asked.
“Yes, and large and shaggy, but their temperaments were altogether fiercer. Their voices were truly unearthly.”
Tegwen said, “Weren’t you there, Angharad, when Arawn finally broke the covenant with Cernunnos? When he set his hounds on Gwyn?”
Maelgwn started at this, clearly new to the tale.
Angharad said, “I’m not likely to forget it. Arawn opened the way on Nos Galan Gaeaf, and brought the pack forward, since he hunted them himself. Gwyn and Edern were both there. He turned on Gwyn and cast the hounds directly at him, in response to Pwyll’s urging. Gwyn’s horse panicked and threw him and he fled through the ways on foot. Cernunnos manifested as the deer-man, running alongside him and showing him the best way to evade the pack. In the end they were bayed together, and Cernunnos turned the hounds on Arawn for his presumption.”
She looked at George. “I don’t know how Cernunnos conferred the title on Gwyn. Has he told you?”
He shook his head. “Cernunnos doesn’t talk to me like that, and Gwyn hasn’t said anything. Ceridwen told me that Beli Mawr confirmed it, but that’s all I know. But your paintings,” he said to Angharad, “show Lludd confirming the investiture, not Beli Mawr.”
“That was to flatter Lludd,” she said. “Prince of Annwn is not his title to bestow, as Beli Mawr well knows, if Lludd has forgotten.”
“For a while,” Tegwen said, “Gwyn hunted the hounds as Arawn had done, but his father wanted direct control for himself and Gwyn refused. It was at this time that the feud with Gwythyr became so embittered that Beli Mawr stepped in to control it. He’s the one who created the annual Nos Galan Mai contest between them. That silenced the lords who felt Gwyn had been rewarded with the title to Annwn when there were unresolved issues of justice.”
“It was not one of Beli Mawr’s better ideas,” Eurig said. “Nothing is resolved, still. There are those who favor Gwythyr, including Lludd who sees him as more obliging than his own son. Gwyn doesn’t speak of it, but I think he stills feel the dishonor of his own actions with the captives after Creiddylad’s betrayal. But Cernunnos supports Gwyn in spite of that, as the most recent great hunt where one of those long ago captives was judged amply demonstrates.”
“Can’t this be decided, once and for all?” George said.
“Ah, but how?” Eurig said. “Some switched their allegiance, subtly or overtly, from Lludd to Gwyn, in recognition and support of his own domain as Prince of Annwn. Lludd was infuriated. Ceridwen was one, and Angharad, here, another. And of course, the two of us. His brother Edern has been caught between them, with his domain under Lludd, and his sympathy for and loyalty to his brother. Even Creiddylad, for a time, maintained allegiance to Gwyn.”
“What cracked the nut eventually,” Eurig said, “was Trevor Mawr’s great discovery.”
He looked to Maelgwn next to him. “That’s who found the Travelers’ Way, my boy, Trevor the Great, the finest way-finder of them all. A fresh cave-in on Gwyn’s Bryntirion lands revealed the entrance of a great way, and Trevor Mawr was the first to set eyes on our new world here at the other end. He saw that the sun’s position shifted in an instant, as it does when you journey east or west via the ways, and he realized he had found entirely new lands to the far west. He went to Gwyn for sponsorship and support, for this would make him immensely wealthy. He could have gone to Lludd. Gwyn was grateful and rewarded him very well.”
“Eurig and I headed the exploration teams that Gwyn sent out,” Tegwen said. “One of the first discoveries was a second way nearby that returned to the old world. Gwyn calls that the Family Way. He keeps it hidden, but the other end was in wasteland not far from Edern’s lands, and Edern adroitly maneuvered to acquire the land and built a country place there, to the bafflement of his neighbors.”
George knew about the Family Way. Its hidden entrance was in the middle of the kennels, in the courtyard. They built the kennels around it as another layer of protection. Hidden or not, he could feel it, though he’d not yet traveled through it.
Eurig said, “Trevor Mawr set up all the way-tokens and concealed the ways. He mapped out some of the new local ways here, too. The secret was kept for several years while Gwyn prepared.”
“You see,” Tegwen said, “It’s not like an earthly court. Wherever the Prince of Annwn and the hounds are, that’s where Annwn is. The Prince defines the domain, not the other way around. Gwyn had the brilliant idea to move Annwn itself, to claim domains in the new world and take Annwn with him. I don’t know how he convinced Cernunnos, but Eurig and I helped him get Beli Mawr’s assent. I’ve heard that he spoke to Cernunnos privately at the great hunt that year.”
“Creiddylad laid the living palisade,” Eurig said, “and Ceridwen supervised all the early building, raising by direct labor what we could, and using her powers to help with the rest. We spent a year here, since we were not often at court and thus little missed, coordinating the venture.”
Tegwen colored. “Well, and we picked out some land for ourselves, too,” she said, looking around at her surroundings.
“All the workmen and lesser vassals came willingly, but once they came, they had to stay while the secret held. Many of these ‘new men’ founded better family positions at that time. Very few went back and forth,” Eurig said. “Even Creiddylad, who couldn’t hide here, kept the faith, astoundingly. She hated her father more than Gwyn then.”
“It didn’t hurt that I kept my eye on her,” Tegwen said. “When she visited Lludd, I went with her.”
“We managed to keep the secret for a full year while Idris organized the move on Gwyn’s old world estates and we took care of it here. Finally, on the night after the great hunt, while everyone was exhausted and sleeping, Gwyn emptied much of his domain and took the hounds. After the procession finished going through the way—it took hours, it did—he closed it while he isolated Annwn in the new world and continued building. He corresponded in private with Beli Mawr and Edern, but Lludd was furious and could do nothing about it. The remnants of Gwyn’s vassals who’d chosen to remain on his own domains suffered Lludd’s wrath, but Beli Mawr put a stop to that.”
“What happened with that year’s great hunt?” George said.
“A year was long enough, Gwyn felt, and he reopened access through the Travelers’ Way in time for the hunt that Nos Galan Gaeaf. We urged him to make it a local hunt for a few years while we consolidated, but he thought that would be a sign of weakness and took the risk,” Eurig said. “I think he was right, after all. That quieted protest better than anything else could have, and tensions throughout Lludd’s kingdom lessened now that there was distance between the factions.”
George thought about the tale in silence. He’d heard parts of it before, but not as one coherent story. Why was Eurig telling him all this now? It didn’t feel like random chance.
“So,” he ventured, “Gwyn had this big choice to make. He discussed it with Cernunnos in advance.”
Eurig gave him an approving look. “Yes, at the great hunt the year before. He spoke to Beli Mawr, too.”
George nodded his comprehension. Gwyn wanted to speak to Beli Mawr again, he knew, from what Ceridwen had told him. “That’s what I wondered.” Lesson learned, he thought. History will repeat itself.
Eurig smiled. “I expected you might find it useful to know this, to understand how Gwyn thinks and plans. You’re a very young man, but I can see a bit of Gwyn in you.”
Brynach furrowed his brow as if to disagree.
Eurig waggled his long mustaches at him and said, “Learn about big strong men, great-nephew. You’ll be one, someday.”
George caught Tegwen hiding a smile at that.
“They come in four flavors, my boy—the bull, the bear, the badger, and the boar.”
He launched into his lecture. “The bull, he’s ready to fight any time, for any cause. He’s dangerous, certainly, but easy to bait and easy to fool. Predictable, if you can keep your nerve while you stir him up. All aggression and bluster. Lludd is like this, and it’s a serious flaw in a ruler.
“The bear, on the other hand, is peaceable. He’ll tolerate a lot. It’s almost impossible to provoke him, but if you manage it, he can be deadly, like a furious blacksmith. It’s not the ideal temperament for a warrior, takes too long to rouse him to attack, but he makes a fine fighter once his blood is up. Gwyn’s brother Edern leans this way.
“The badger, now, he holds his own. No one will defeat him in his own sett but he doesn’t go around looking for a fight. Won’t retreat from one either, though. I have something of that in me, and so does Llefelys. He keeps to his kingdom and holds the borders against his neighbors, but doesn’t seek what isn’t his. Keeps a strong fence, he does.
“The boar—he’s versatile, he is. He doesn’t start many fights but doesn’t hesitate if he finds one. He’ll try to deceive his enemies and lie in wait for them. He’ll fight to the death, either to defend his own or just out of sheer bloody-mindedness. You can’t make him quit. Gwyn has this nature and so, I suspect, does our young George here. Gwyn’s battles are more subtle and elaborate, of course, as befits a mighty prince. But look at how George steered those huntsmen our way the other night, to do his questioning for him.”
George was taken aback at this analysis, and chagrined to see how fascinated both Brynach and Maelgwn were. He cocked an eyebrow at Angharad, and she nodded her agreement with Eurig, which startled him further.
Eurig watched the byplay and said, “It’s true, what I say. You’ll not often see Gwyn angry, but then his enemies look down and find themselves wounded, sometimes unto death.”
Tegwen said, “You’re not going to change his plans any, huntsman, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it. This has been brewing for a very long time. Gwyn’s not tempted by ambition the way his father is, he’s seen that too closely for too long. But he won’t be ruled by Lludd, either. Open conflict has been avoided for a couple of thousand years, but Gwyn has limits. The bolt was laid in this crossbow long ago. You and the rock-wights are just the trigger for it.”
Eurig hung back with George after the meal and took him outside onto a wide stone veranda at the rear of the manor. Tegwen and Brynach went off to show Angharad some of the improvements that had been made in the workshops south of the building, and Maelgwn accompanied them.
“Thank you for that, in there,” George said to him. “Even we useful tools like to have some idea of what to expect.”
Eurig chuckled. “I thought so. Gwyn’s done this to me before, keeping his plans close, and I don’t think the worse of him for it.” He cocked an eye at him. “Mustn’t get impatient.”
“Yes, of course you’re right. I’m waiting for his conversation with Cernunnos. He’s been hinting at it.” He stared off at the long mountain ridge that ran endlessly north and south. The day was bright but large intermittent clouds carried east by the wind cast dramatic shadows across the landscape.
“Meanwhile, the new hunt staff are my problem,” he said briskly to Eurig. “What do you make of them?”
“I couldn’t get very far. Gwion’s all charm and I have nothing to fault him on. That other one, Dyfnallt, he keeps himself to himself more, but that’s no crime. I know both of their lords, of course.”
“Really? Tell me about them.”
“Glesni’s land is rich and I expect Gwion’s been a bit pampered there. She and Gwyn were consorts for a while, but that was before Annwn. I know she has heirs, but no husband, not for a long time. There were never many who met her standards.”
He summed it up. “She stayed with Lludd and must be presumed loyal to him. It’s unlikely that Gwion has no assignment from his lady, but what he is to do other than watch and learn I can’t say. I do wish I had a better grip on him—it’s like trying to grasp an eel the way he makes you work to pin him down.”
“Hmm,” George said. “He’s performed well in the field and, after his first surprise about Benitoe and the young staff, he’s adapted well. But you’re right, it’s hard to get past the pleasant surface.”
“Cuhelyn, now, that’s a very different matter. He and Gwyn bristle at each other like unfriendly dogs, stiff-legged with disdain. I don’t know of any real cause, but you might want to ask Gwyn, if you find him in the right mood. His huntsman seems like a product of the land, the rocks and fells. You might find him slow to warm up but solid if he does.”
“I think much of his manner is the knowledge that his master is no friend of Gwyn’s, and him expecting to be unwelcome here in consequence,” George said. “I find his reserve understandable, more than Gwion’s affability. And there have been momentarily glimpses underneath…”
“It’s Brynach and Rhian I’m concerned about, you understand,” George said. “Benitoe can take care of himself, I think, but they’re younger. The question is, what can these huntsmen do other than spy? Lludd has other spies already in place, we know that. Why cause these two to be sent now?”
Eurig shrugged.“Brynach’s on his guard, huntsman, and so is Rhian, he tells me. There’s little you can do other than continue on and keep an eye on them.”
Eurig thought he knew what Gwyn intended, to beard Lludd in his den. If that happened, well, Idris was over the ridge in Dyffryn Camarch, his hands full bringing Madog’s old domain back to health. And he and Tegwen were here, ready to hold the rear lines. It would be like old times again. Gwyn should get on with it, though. He sympathized with George’s impatience.
Movement caught Eurig’s eye and he saw Tegwen had reappeared with her charges and was waving them over. “Let’s join them. You haven’t seen our workshops and mills, either.” They walked down the veranda steps and met the others at a point of land where the view to the southwest was uninterrupted.
The contrasting fields and woods rolled down along the foot of the ridge. Some of the cleared acreage was under the plow, but the rest was grazing land, dotted with spotted cattle in a patchwork of colors.
Maelgwn stood off to the side taking a survey of the land by eye, working methodically along from south to north.
Eurig joined him. “You have a feel for the land, don’t you?”
The boy looked up at him. “Yes, sir. I like to know where everything is.”
“More of a wolf, are you, than these lumbering beasts we were discussing?”
Maelgwn nodded a surprised agreement.
“Then you should get to know your territory, like any wolf.” He raised his voice so George and Angharad could hear him. “You are welcome to come ride this land anytime. Explore it at your will. Ten miles it runs, to the north, as far as the river’s source on the ridge, and across the north road to the east, as well.”
He watched with satisfaction as Maelgwn straightened with pride at the offer. How old was he? Must be almost of age, he thought. A young scout would be no bad thing to be raising, with the coming conflict. He glanced at George. “Overnight trips would be good experience for him.”
George reluctantly agreed. “As long as you keep us informed, foster-son.”
Brynach smiled at Maelgwn’s obvious pleasure. “I miss the freedom to roam these lands that way.”
“What are you grinning about?” George asked Angharad, that night. They were alone in their bedchamber, relaxing in their robes in the chairs before the fire, and Angharad had just smiled broadly, for no reason George could detect.
“I was thinking of that discussion of Tegwen and knives today.” She laughed. “I know the details of getting Rhian clothes suitable for court are not part of your mission, but they are mine. Who else could she turn to, after all—Ceridwen?”
George smiled at the thought of the grave Ceridwen trying to dress a teenage princess. Bad enough when Maelgwn and he had to present themselves to be fitted for court clothing.
“Isn’t Rhian cooperating? I know she’s not a dressy girl but I thought she’d accepted the task.”
“That’s not the problem. We’re drowning over there in her rooms in silks, brocades, trimmings, and all the rest. Lovely stuff, really, in beautiful colors. Mostyn’s found some fine materials for us. And she likes it well enough. She’s even taking our guidance on suitable styles.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
“Knives.”
George choked, and coughed. He leaned forward in his chair to recover.
“Knives, everywhere.” Angharad grinned again. “She won’t accept any garment that won’t allow her to carry knives somewhere. And not just strapped to her legs where she can reach them through her pocket slits. ‘Just in case,’ she says.”
“Well, I can’t really fault her for that,” he said.
“Nor I, but it does make for the most incongruous pictures, when she stands there half-covered in dainty lace, testing the draw of a particular blade.”
George smiled himself at the image she painted.
“Speaking of knives,” she said, “did you know that Dyfnallt is a carver? Alun lent him some of the tools from Iolo’s workshop downstairs and he tells me the man’s working on something he won’t show anyone. I suppose this is how he spends his evenings, for I don’t see him much about, outside of work.”
“I don’t know what the two huntsmen do in their spare time, and it worries me,” George said. “Can’t help thinking they’re both up to mischief. What have you heard about Gwion?”
Angharad looked at him. “He’s very charming, anyone will tell you so. No one has a thing to say against him. He knows everyone—the grooms, the craftsmen, the merchants. Not like Dyfnallt, who keeps himself to himself.”
“Hmm,” George said noncommittally. “I’m going to have to leave them as alternating huntsmen when we go with Gwyn, but everyone’s been warned.”
“What are you worried they might do while you’re gone?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see the harm in it, but I don’t like it,” he said.
That reminded him. “Oh, did I tell you? It looks like all four of the bitches have caught. We should be seeing whelps around the middle of March. Ives is in charge of that.”
“Good,” she said, and yawned.
He stood and stretched. “Gwyn assures me we’ll be back by then. I’d hate to miss it.”
He offered his hand to her and pulled her upright effortlessly, not letting her go when she reached her feet but pulling her into his arms for an embrace. He paused to set a screen before the fireplace to guard against sparks, then the two of them walked slowly to the bed, their arms about each other’s waists, and turned down the lights.
