The Endless Knot (5 page)

To Goewyn, Tegid said, “By this token your gift has been accepted. If you will receive the gift you have been given will you also offer a token of acceptance?”

Without a word, Goewyn slipped her arm around my neck and pressed her lips to mine. She kissed me full and free and with such fervor that it brought cheers from the onlookers gathered close about. She released me, breathless, almost gasping. The ardor in her clear brown eyes made me blush.

Tegid, smiling broadly, thumped the earth once more with his staff, three times, sharply. Then he raised the staff and held it horizontally over our heads. “The gifts of love and life have been exchanged and accepted. By this let all men know that Llew Silver Hand and Goewyn are wed.”

And that was that. The people acclaimed the wedding loudly and with great enthusiasm. We were instantly caught up in a whirlwind of well-wishing. The wedding was over; let the celebration commence!

3
T
HE
W
EDDING
F
EAST

S
wept away on a flood tide of high exuberance, Goewyn and I were propelled through the crannog. I lost sight of Tegid, Scatha, and Cynan; I could not see Bran or Calbha. At the landing we were bundled into a boat and rowed across to the lakeside where Scatha's field was quickly prepared for games.

Feast days and festivals are often accompanied by contests of skill and chance. Wrestling and horse racing are by far the favorites, with mock combat and games of hurley. An earthen mound was raised facing the field, with two chairs placed upon it. One of the chairs was made from stag antler and adorned with a white oxhide—this was to be mine. And from this vantage point, Goewyn and I were to watch the proceedings and dispense prizes.

The sport would come first, the food and drink later—giving the cooks time to see everything properly prepared, and the competitors and spectators opportunity to build an ample appetite. Better to wrestle on an empty stomach, after all, than with a bellyful of roast pork. And after a few bowls of strong wedding mead, who would be able to sit a horse, let alone race one?

When the hastily erected mound was finished, Goewyn and I ascended to our chairs and waited for the company to assemble. Already, many had made their way across the lake from the crannog, and more were arriving. I was happy to wait. I was a happy man—perhaps for the first time in my life, truly happy.

All I had ever known of joy and life, and now love, had been found here, in the Otherworld, in Albion. The thought touched a guilty nerve in my conscience, and I squirmed. But surely, Professor Nettleton was wrong. He
was
wrong, and I would not destroy the thing I loved; he was wrong, and I could stay. I would sooner give up my life than leave Albion now.

I looked at Goewyn and smothered my guilt with the sight of her gleaming hair. She sensed me watching her and turned to me. “I love you, my soul,” she whispered, smiling. And I felt like a man who, living his entire life in a cave, that instant steps out into the dazzling light of day.

Tegid arrived shortly, attended by his
Mabinogi,
led by the harp-bearer, Gwion Bach. Another carried his staff. “I have given Calbha charge of the prizes,” Tegid told us. “He is gathering them now.”

“Prizes? Ah, yes, for the games.”

“I knew you would not think of it,” he explained cheerfully.

Calbha carried out his charge in style. He came leading a host of bearers, each carrying an armload of valuable objects—and some in twos lugging heavy wicker baskets between them. They piled their offerings around our chairs. Soon the mound was knee-deep in glittering, gleaming booty: new-made spears with decorated heads and shafts, fine swords inset with gems, shields with rims of silver and bronze, bone-handled knives . . . Wherever I looked there were cups and bowls—bowls of copper, bronze, silver, and gold; wooden bowls cunningly carved; cups of horn with silver rims, small cups and large cups; cups of stone even. There were fine new cloaks and piles of fluffy white fleeces. Armbands of bronze and silver and gold gleamed like links in a precious chain, and scattered among them were ornate brooches, bracelets, and rings. As if this were not enough, there were three good horses, which Calbha could not resist adding.

I gaped at the glittering array. “Where did you get all this?”

“It is yours, lord,” he replied hastily. “But do not worry, I have chosen only the finest for such a celebration as this.”

“I thank you, Calbha,” I replied, eyeing the treasure trove. “You have served me well. Indeed, I did not know I was so wealthy.”

There was so much, and all so lavish, that I wondered aloud to Tegid, “Can I afford this?”

The bard only laughed and indicated the shimmering mound with a sweep of his hand. “The greater the generosity, the greater the king.”

“If that is the way of it, then give it all away—and more! Let men say that never in Albion was such a wedding celebration as this. And let all who hear of it in later days sicken with envy that they were not here!”

Cynan, arriving with some of his men just then, looked upon the treasure and declared himself well ready to win his share. Bran and the Ravens came behind him, calling loudly for the games to begin. Alun challenged Cynan then and there to choose whatever game of skill or chance he preferred—and he should be bested at it.

“You are a wonder, Alun Tringad,” Cynan crowed. “Can it be you have forgotten the defeat I gave you when last you tried your skill against me?”

“Defeat?” Alun cried. “Am I to believe what I am hearing? The victory was mine, as you well know.”

“Man, Alun—I am surprised your teeth keep company with your tongue, such lies you tell. Still, for the sake of this festive day,” Cynan declared, “I will not hold your impudence against you.”

“It was your voice, Cynan Machae, cried mercy, as I recall,” Alun replied amiably. “Yet, like you, I am willing to forget what is past for the sake of the day.”

They fell to arguing then about the size of the wager—pledging prizes not yet won—and quickly drew a crowd of onlookers eager to back one or the other of the champions and so reap a share of the rewards.

They were still settling the terms when Goewyn leaned close. “If you do not begin the games soon, husband, we will be forced to listen to their boasting all day.”

“Very well,” I agreed and rose from my chair to address the crowd. Tegid called for silence and, when the people saw that I would speak, they quieted themselves to listen. “Let us enjoy the day given to us!” I said. “Let us strive with skill and accept with good grace all that chances our way, that when the games are done, we may retire to the feasting hall better friends than when the day began.”

“Well said, lord,” Tegid declared. “So be it!”

Wrestling was first, followed by various races, including a spectacular horse race, which had everyone exhausted by the time the winner— a young man from Calbha's clan—crossed the finish line. I awarded him a horse and, much to the crowd's amusement, he promptly retired from the games lest he lose his prize in a foolish wager.

I tried at first to match each award to its winner, but I soon gave up and lost track and took whatever came to hand. Indeed, as the games proceeded, I called on Goewyn to help, so that sometimes I awarded the prizes and sometimes the winners received their trophies from Goewyn—which I suspected most preferred. I noticed that many who came to the mound to marvel at the prizes stayed to feast their eyes on Goewyn. Time and again I found myself stealing glances at her—like a beggar who has found a jewel of immense value and must continually reassure himself that it is not a dream, that it does exist and, yes, that it belongs to him.

One young boy came to the mound and found a copper cup, which once he had picked up the thing, he could not bring himself to put down. “You like that cup,” I said, and he blushed, for he did not know he was observed. “Tell me, how would you win it?”

He thought for a moment. “I would wrestle Bran Bresal himself,” he answered boldly.

“Bran might be reluctant to risk his great renown by engaging one so young,” I answered. “Perhaps you would be persuaded to pit your strength against someone more your own size?”

The boy accepted my suggestion and a match was agreed. It ended well, and I was pleased to award him his prize. Thus began a succession of children's games and races, no less hotly contested than the trials of their elders.

The contests progressed and, little by little, the treasure mound was reduced. Tegid disappeared at some point in the proceedings and I was so caught up in my role as gift giver that some long time passed before I missed him. Turning to Goewyn, I said, “I wonder where Tegid has gone. Do you see him anywhere?”

Before she could reply, there came a rush at the mound behind us. I heard the swift approach and saw a confused motion out of the corner of my eye. Even as my head swiveled toward the sound and movement, I saw hands reaching for Goewyn. In the same instant that I leapt to my feet, she was pulled from her chair. “Llew!” she cried and was borne roughly away.

I hurled myself after her, but there were too many people, too much confusion. I could hardly move. Head down, I drove forward into the mass of bodies. Hands seized me. I was pressed back into my chair. Goewyn cried out again, but her voice was farther away, and the cry was cut off.

I kicked free of the chair and made to leap from the mound. Even as I gained my feet, I was hauled down from behind, thrown to the ground, and pinned there. Voices strange and loud gabbled in my ears. I fought against those holding me down. “Let me go!” I shouted. “Release me!” But the hands held firm, and the chaos of voices resolved itself into laughter. They were laughing at me!

Angry now, I struggled all the more. “Tegid!” I bellowed. “Tegid!”

“I am here, Llew,” Tegid's voice replied calmly.

I looked around furiously, and saw Tegid's face appear above me. “Release him,” the bard instructed.

The weight of hands fell away; the circle of faces drew back. I jumped to my feet. “They've taken Goewyn,” I told him. “We were sitting here, and they—”

There were smiles and a spattering of laughter. I halted. Tegid, his fingers laced around his staff, appeared unconcerned. “What is happening?” I demanded. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you, Llew,” the bard replied simply.

His lack of concern appalled me. I opened my mouth to protest, and again heard the laughter. Gazing at those gathered around us, I saw their faces alight with mischief and mirth. It was only then I realized that I was the object of a prank. “Well, Tegid, what is it? What have you done?”

“It is not for me to say, lord,” he answered.

It came to me then that this was another of those peculiar Celtic marriage customs. The trick required me to work the thing out for myself. Well, prank or custom, I was not amused. Turning away, I called, “Bran! Cynan! Follow me!”

I strode down from the mound, a path opening before me as I hastened away. “Bran! Cynan!” I called again, and when they did not join me, I turned to see them standing motionless. “Follow me!” I shouted. “I need you.”

Cynan, grinning, moved a step forward, then stopped, shaking his head slightly.

“I go alone,” I remarked.

“That is the way of it,” Bran said.

“So be it!” Exasperation turning to anger, I whirled away across the field in the direction I had last seen Goewyn. It was a stupid jest, and I resented it.

The trail led to the lakeside where I lost it on the stony shore. They might have gone in either direction—one way led along the lake toward the Dinas Dwr; the other rose to the heights and the ridge of Druim Vran above. Looking toward the crannog, I saw no sign of flight, so I pivoted the opposite way and strode toward the heights and Tegid's grove.

I reached the path and began the climb. The crowd followed behind, streaming along the lake in a happy hubbub. The trees gradually closed around me, muffling the sound of the following throng. It was cool among the silent trees, and the sun-dappled shadows seemed undisturbed. But I heard the creak of a bough ahead and knew my instincts were true. I quickened my pace, pushing recklessly ahead: ducking low-hanging branches, dodging trunks and shrubs.

Tegid's sacred grove lay directly ahead, and I made straight for it. Putting on a final burst of speed, I ascended the final leg of the trail and gained the grove. I entered with a rush to find a bower of birch branches had been erected in the center of the grove. And before the bower stood seven warriors, armed and ready.

“Put down your weapons,” I commanded, but they did not move. I knew these men; they had followed me into battle and stood with me against Meldron. Now they stood against me. Though I knew it to be part of the ritual, the ache of betrayal that knifed momentarily through me was real enough. There was no help for me. I stood alone against them.

Steeling myself, I moved closer. The warriors advanced menacingly toward me. I stopped and they stopped, staring grimly at me. The smiles and laughter were gone. What, I wondered as I stood staring at them, was I supposed to do now?

The first of the onlookers reached the grove. I turned to see Bran, Cynan, and Tegid entering behind me and, rank upon rank, my people surrounding the sacred circle. No one spoke, but the eagerness in their eyes urged me on.

If this was a mock abduction, it seemed I would have to undertake a mock battle to win my queen. I had no weapon, but, turning to the task before me, I stepped boldly forth and met the first warrior as he swung the head of the spear level. Moving quickly under the swinging shaft, I caught it with my silver hand and pulled hard.

To my surprise, the warrior released the spear and fell at my feet as if dead. Taking the shaft, I turned to meet the next warrior, who raised his spear to throw. I struck the man's shield with the tip of the spearblade: he dropped his weapon and fell. The third warrior crumpled at the touch of my spear against his shoulder—the fourth and fifth, likewise. The two remaining warriors attacked me together.