Chapter Eighteen

 

Word spread that King Amorion had come at last to Cerisild, and the people of the Wood were eager to glimpse their overlord. A crowd gathered in the courtyard of the manor on the third day of his residence and made it difficult to come and go. Even though the weather warmed and clouds continued to shower upon them in short, sudden downpours, the curious throng stayed.

Gwidion and Amorion decided to make an appearance on the balcony of the library to introduce the Wood’s people to the King of the Silde, and to announce Gilmarion’s new status as Lord of the East. The banner of the royal house fluttered from the railing and garnered more attention from the folk of the city. Their numbers soon spilled over into the muddy lane.

Emrys and Telyn chose to watch from below in the midst of the crowded courtyard. King Amorion spoke to his subjects, flanked by Gwidion and his sons. Telyn noted glances of confusion and dutiful applause among the Wood-born when King Amorion informed them of Gilmarion’s new title. Most of them still hadn’t been outside the trees and had no knowledge of other parts of the kingdom. But spontaneous cheers erupted following Amorion’s announcement that Mithrais would now succeed the Lord of Cerisild.

Clad in his Tauron green, Mithrais accepted the ovation of the people below with a flushed countenance. Dealing with his people would be markedly different than patrolling the Wood, Telyn mused, and Mithrais would have to learn to take on a different role than he ever expected. His eyes found her, and she offered him a brilliant smile as she applauded with the crowd.

After the King and Gwidion vacated the balcony, she and Emrys threaded their way upstream through the press of citizens. When they reached the front door, her cousin turned to her and posed the very question she avoided in her own mind. “Will you give up wandering now that he is the heir?”

Telyn poked with the toe of her shoe at the once-spotless carpet Marithiel had procured for her guests, now mud-spattered and stained in the entryway. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “We haven’t spoken of it yet.” With a harsh sigh, she led Emrys to a seat in the deserted great hall and plopped down beside him. “Princess Marithiel has reminded me at every opportunity I’m not a suitable match for him. In truth, I’ve never aspired to be the lady of anyone’s household. I hate embroidering.” She plucked at the skirt of the everyday gown she wore in deference to Marithiel’s wishes. “I hate wearing dresses. I don’t like gossiping with a gaggle of women in the weaving-room. I can’t even weave!” Emrys chuckled at her consternation. She finished, “I’m a bard. I’ve moved as an equal in the world of men all my life. It’s all I know.”

“I can’t imagine you being content tied down to nursery and hearth.” Emrys bumped her shoulder gently with his. “But whether or not Princess Marithiel approves, what you are seems to agree with Mithrais.”

“I love him, Emrys. I can feel how much it means to him that I stay. He’s been so very patient with me.”

“The Fates know patience will be required in any mate who chooses you.” Emrys bumped her harder, and she laughed as she righted herself on the bench. “You have a good man there, Tel. Save for Lord Gwidion, and perhaps our friend Riordan, I don’t think I’ve met a better man than Mithrais.”

“He is a good man.” Her feelings of doubt and guilt clamored to be indulged, but she clamped them down and changed the subject. “What about you? Will you marry?”

“Bah. You know me. I have varied and sundry tastes that could never be fulfilled by one woman or man.”

“You’ll need to have an heir to pass the title of Royal Bard.”

“I plan to leave it to you. I didn’t train you all those years to become a little woods-mouse, my shadow.”

Telyn’s eyes widened as he continued, “Vuldur is dead. Taliesin won’t have anything to say about it because he’ll be dead by then, too, and you’ll have the title that’s rightfully yours. You may be an old grey granny because I don’t plan on dying soon, but you’ll be Royal Bard.”

“Does the King know?”

“Not yet, but he will. Just make sure you have at least one child who is musically inclined so our family honor isn’t tone deaf.”

“Emrys!” She hugged him, grateful for his offer, but her happiness buckled under the weight of the war in her heart. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You weren’t given these gifts to live the life of a wandering minstrel, Tel. You were meant for great things. What happened here in the Wood is only one of them.”

“You aren’t making this any easier, Emrys.” She put her forehead on her cousin’s shoulder, and he held her as he hadn’t since she was a child, kissing the top of her head.

“What is it that frightens you most, my shadow?” Emrys’ voice rumbled against her ear.

“It used to be that I would disappoint you and Taliesin. It’s already happened.”

“For what it’s worth, I have never been disappointed in you. And Taliesin... There’s a reason he couldn’t teach you how to keep your own emotions from escaping into your song magic. I’ve never met a colder man, Tel. I don’t think he has any emotion to suppress. The only thing that touches him is his own lofty opinion of himself.” They both snorted with satisfied laughter. “What frightens you now?”

“Losing what I love. Mithrais or my life as a bard... I can’t choose one over the other, Emrys. It would be denying half of my heart, no matter what I chose.”

“Balance is everything, Tel. A bard’s life is a lonely life between engagements, and a harp can’t keep you warm on a winter’s night.” Emrys pulled away and made her face him again. He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. “You have something most bards can only sing about. Find a way to balance the two halves of your heart, or the Fates may make the choice for you. Regrets are never a good counterpoint to love or music. Tell Mithrais the truth about what frightens you.”

They both looked up. As if summoned, Mithrais descended the steps into the great hall. Emrys waggled his eyebrows at Telyn before he rose and gave him a showy, formal bow.

“And how does it feel to be the acknowledged heir to Cerisild?”

Mithrais’ smile faded around the edges. “Odd,” he admitted. “But at least I get to stay in the Wood. Gilmarion has just come to the realization he will be living at court.”

“If he wishes, I will be happy to commiserate. I never expected to be a courtier either.” Emrys grimaced. “If it is not too personal a question for me to pose, has Princess Marithiel decided what she is going to do?”

“For now, she has accepted Father’s offer of remaining in residence. They’ve spoken more in the last two days than they have in ten years.”

“Perhaps they can discover a common ground,” Telyn said.

“She may find the Wood now holds as many wonders as the world outside.” Mithrais smiled at her then straightened. “Speaking of which, Emrys... You’re still coming with us tonight to the guild house?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Diarmid told me he would send the midday meal to our chambers—no feasts today. Would you care to join us?”

“Good food and better company? A bard could ask for little more. Lead on.” Emrys made a dramatic gesture.

 

* * * *

 

Emrys poured them all wine and nectar as they sat round the small table to await the meal. When a timid knock sounded, Emrys rubbed his hands together in anticipation and Telyn could not help but grin.

When she answered the door, Lenad peered through the opening, and Emrys’ slow smile had the maid blushing before she even entered the room.

“Ah, something much sweeter than our dinner has arrived.” Emrys appeared to be well acquainted with the young woman. His legendary appetite for good food took second place only to his appetite for attractive company.

“Come in, Lenad,” Telyn invited her. “Is something amiss?”

“No, my lady.” Lenad bobbed a quick curtsy and cast a shy glance in Emrys’ direction. “I have come at Princess Marithiel’s bidding. She asks you to join her for the midday meal, if you are at leisure.”

Surprised it was not a command, Telyn clarified, “She asked only for me?”

“Yes, my lady.”

She had dreaded a private encounter with Marithiel since the delegation arrived, but the princess already heard everything Vuldur said in the bloody aftermath of the hearing—and possibly more, beforehand. Nothing remained hidden, and she could think of no reason to decline. She stood.

“Are you certain?” Mithrais rose with her.

“No, but I will go.” She kissed him in a melodramatic gesture of farewell. “Send the Tauron after me if I haven’t emerged by sunset.”

Their laughter trailed after her when she closed the door. She followed Lenad to the floor below their quarters, and the maid tapped upon the outer door of Marithiel’s chamber. Argaile admitted them into a small receiving room. Telyn caught a glimpse of the richly appointed bedchamber through an open door to her left. The door opposite led to a dayroom similar in shape and size to Mithrais’, and she caught her breath a moment. The princess had done her best to emulate the luxurious rooms Telyn remembered in the palace and succeeded. Brocaded draperies hung on walls in a riot of warm color, and thick, imported carpets covered the polished wooden floor.

Marithiel sat in one of the overstuffed fireside chairs, gazing into the flames when Argaile announced her. The princess looked up, startled out of deep thought.

“Thank you, Argaile.”

Telyn sank into a curtsy. “Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

“Please sit down.” Marithiel motioned to the chair beside her, and she moved to comply as the maid left them. She displayed none of the condescension Telyn had come to expect. “I thought we might get to know one another,” Marithiel said. “I have been a neglectful hostess, since you have been in my household, and should have made overtures before.”

Telyn struggled a little to keep her eyebrows from betraying surprise at this unexpected beginning. “I understand you were very busy preparing for the delegation.”

“It does not excuse my behavior.” Her fingers picked at the edge of an embroidered kerchief she held in her hand. “I want to thank you for your act of kindness a few days ago, before the last hearing. You were the only one who moved to offer me comfort.”

“It was a small matter, my lady.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Marithiel met her eyes for the first time. “I greatly appreciated it.”

“You’re welcome.” Telyn smiled, and the Lady of Cerisild returned it briefly.

“You look a great deal like your mother, especially when you smile.”

Her heart leapt as a deer startled from cover. “You...you knew my mother?”

“Of course I did. She was raised at court and nearly the same age as I. Our paths crossed frequently.” Marithiel looked into the fire and back to Telyn again. “Gwidion told me you never met Ariel. Would you like to hear about her?”

“Yes, if you please.”

“She and her elder sister were attached to my retinue for a time. They were orphaned, you see, and raised by some relative in the court. I fear I cannot remember their family name. Her sister received their small inheritance when she married. Ariel didn’t expect to marry, being landless. But she was a friendly girl who always seemed so full of life. When Taliesin asked for her hand, I never understood why she accepted. He had to have an heir, but the last thing he wanted was to be burdened with a wife. Their engagement lasted for years. They didn’t marry until after I left court.”

“He never talked about her.” Sorrow grew in Telyn’s heart for her mother, the friendly girl in a loveless marriage.

“Then he did a disservice to her memory. I hope you will not be insulted when I say I have always found Taliesin a pompous ass.”

Telyn gave a short, startled laugh. “I fear I can’t contradict your opinion.”

“He didn’t deserve such a kind woman. I can’t imagine what she saw in that peacock, or if he even thought of her as anything but a broodmare. He had no room for anyone but himself in his life.”

“I know it well.” Only too well.

“You must wonder how I could have loved a man like Vuldur,” Marithiel said briskly, broaching the forbidden subject. “He was much different when we were young.”

“He changed a great deal in the last few years, my lady.” Telyn looked at her clasped hands and struggled for something positive to say. “Emrys told me the physicians attributed it to the progression of his illness.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I cannot imagine his illness changed him into so different a man. But I loved him very much. I know I am not an easy woman to love, or even like, but he knew my faults and my weaknesses and still he cared for me.” Marithiel stared into the fire. “I didn’t know how he’d come into the title, but I suspect it wouldn’t have mattered. I find I am still a foolish woman, and just as powerless as when my brother commanded me to wed Gwidion.”

Telyn did not know what to say and kept her thoughts to herself. Marithiel looked up and studied her in the silence.

“I have heard from Amorion the full story of how you came to be exiled,” she said after a moment. “Because Vuldur could not claim me for his wife, or Gilmarion as his son, he placed all of his hopes and dreams upon Vaddon. I never knew the boy or his mother, so I cannot speak on whether he was worthy of such adoration. But that was Vuldur. He loved fiercely, jealously, and unconditionally.” She looked unhappy, or displeased, with her own words. “I am neither defending their actions, nor condemning yours. I want you to know I understand you had no choice.”

The servitors arrived with the midday meal. As they laid it out on the table, the moment for confidences passed. Marithiel invited Telyn to be seated. For the rest of the visit, they held incidental and polite conversation. Telyn thought that perhaps the princess needed the company of another woman who understood exile. They did not speak of her relationship with Mithrais, or how long she would be in Cerisild. But it was a tentative step toward civility, and Telyn accepted it. She only hoped it would last.