The Foundling (4 page)

Read The Foundling Online

Authors: Lloyd Alexander

BOOK: The Foundling
11.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Angharad was about to protest, but the Queen gestured for her to be silent. Regat's face was grave as she drew herself up and turned a severe gaze upon Geraint.
“You have heard these accusations,” Queen Regat said. “Are they true?”
“Yes,” Geraint answered willingly, “altogether true. Sorcery is not
my birthright. I have no inborn powers. What I showed, I fashioned by myself. The birds you saw? No doves, but only bits of white parchment. The flowers? Dry grass and tinted leaves. The stars? A handful of bright pebbles. I only helped you imagine these things to be more than what they are. If this pleased you for a few moments, I could ask nothing better.”
“How dare you come to us in the guise of an enchanter?” demanded the Queen.
“To win Angharad's hand,” replied Geraint, “I would dare more than that.”
“Even so,” answered the Queen. “My daughter has chosen you in vain.”
“No!” declared Angharad. “Any other choice would be in vain. Those two inherited their skills. Geraint earned his. False? He's the only true enchanter.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Queen Regat answered. She sighed and shook her head. “Daughter, though I wish your happiness, by rule and custom your marriage to him is forbidden.”
Since Angharad would consent to none but Geraint, the Queen regretfully commanded the Princess to withdraw and remain in her chambers. And Geraint was sent from the Castle of Llyr.
But Angharad defied the ancient rule and followed Geraint, and found him waiting for her as if each had known the other's mind.
As the two made their way through the forest beyond the castle, suddenly the sky grew dark as midnight, though the day was barely past high noon. But, from her cloak, Angharad drew a golden sphere which glowed at her touch and whose light overcame this vengeful sorcery of Gildas.
Then, in front of Angharad and Geraint sprang monstrous
creatures summoned by Grimgower. But the two clasped hands and kept on their way. And the creatures drew back and bowed their heads while the lovers passed unharmed.
At the edge of the forest a thick curtain of snow began to fall, and icy gales lashed Angharad and Geraint. But they held each other closer and so passed through it, too, in warmth and safety.
And where they left footprints in the snow, flowers bloomed.
 
 
 
 
M
edwyn, ancient guardian and protector of animals, one day sent urgent word for the birds and beasts to join in council with him. So from lair and burrow, nest and hive, proud stag and humble mole, bright-winged eagle and drab wren, they hastened to his valley. No human could have found or followed the secret path to this shelter, for only creatures of field and forest had knowledge of it.
There they gathered, every kind and degree, one from each clan and tribe. Before them stood Medwyn garbed in a coarse brown robe, his white beard reaching to his waist, his white hair about his shoulders, his only ornament a golden band, set with a blue gem, circling his weathered brow. He spread his gnarled and knotted arms in welcome to the waiting council.
“You know, all of you,” he began, in a clear voice unweakened by his years, “long ago, when the dark waters flooded Prydain, I built a ship and carried your forefathers here to safety. Now I must warn you: your own lives are threatened.”
Hearing this, the animals murmured and twittered in dismay. But Kadwyr the crow flapped his glossy wings, clacked his beak, and gaily called out:
“What, more wind and water? Let the ducks have the joy of it! Don't worry about me. My nest is high and strong enough. I'll stay where I am. Good sailing to all web-feet!”
Chuckling, making loud, impudent quackings at the blue teal, Kadwyr would have flown off then and there. Medwyn summoned him back, saying:
“Ah, Kadwyr, you're as great a scamp as your grandsire who sailed with me. No, it is neither flood nor storm. The danger is far worse. King Arawn, Lord of the Land of Death, seeks to enslave all you forest creatures, to break you to his will and bind you to serve his evil ends. Those cousins to the eagles, the gentle gwythaints, have already fallen prey to him. Arawn has lured them to his realm and trapped them in iron cages. Alas, they are beyond our help. We can only grieve for them.
“Take warning from their fate,” Medwyn continued. “For now the Death-Lord sends his Chief Huntsman to bait and snare you, to bring you captive to the Land of Death or to slaughter you without mercy. Together you must set your plans to stand against him.”
“A crow's a match for any hunter,” said Kadwyr. “Watch your step, the rest of you, especially you slow-footed cud-chewers.”
Medwyn sighed and shook his head at the brash crow. “Even you, Kadwyr, may be glad for another's help.”
Kadwyr only shrugged his wings and cocked a bold eye at Edyrnion the eagle, who flew to perch on Medwyn's outstretched arm.
“Friend of eagles,” Edyrnion said, “I and my kinsmen will keep watch from the sky. Our eyes are keen, our wings are swift. At first sight of the hunter, we will spread the alarm.”
“Mind you, don't fly too close to the sun,” put in Kadwyr with a raucous chuckle. “You'll singe your pinfeathers and moult ahead of season. If there's any watching needed, I'd best be the one to do it. I hear you're going a bit nearsighted these days.”
The nimble crow hopped away before the eagle could call him to
account for his teasing. And now the gray wolf Brynach came to crouch at Medwyn's feet, saying:
“Friend of wolves, I and my kinsmen will range the forest. Our teeth are sharp, our jaws are strong. Should the hunter come among us, let him beware of our wolf packs.”
“And you'd better watch out for that long tail of yours,” said Kadwyr. “With all your dashing back and forth, you're likely to get burrs in it. In fact, you might do well to leave all that roving and roaming to me. My beak's as sharp as any wolf's tooth. And,” the crow added, winking, “I never have to stop and scratch fleas.”
The wolf's golden eyes flashed and he looked ready to teach the crow a lesson in manners. But he kept his temper and sat back on his haunches as Gwybeddin the gnat flew close to Medwyn's ear and bravely piped up:
“Friend of gnats! We are a tiny folk, but we mean to do our best in any way we can.”
Hearing this, Kadwyr squawked with laughter and called out to the gnat:
“Is that you, Prince Flyspeck? I can hardly see you. Listen, old friend, the best thing you can do is hide in a dust cloud, and no hunter will ever find you. Why, even your words are bigger than you are!”
Kadwyr's remarks so embarrassed the poor gnat that he blushed and buzzed away as fast as he could. Meantime, Nedir the spider had clambered up to Medwyn's sleeve, where she clung with her long legs, and declared:
“Friend of spiders! We spinners and weavers are craftsmen, not fighters. But we shall give our help gladly wherever it is needed.”
“Take my advice, Granny,” Kadwyr said with a chuckle, “and
keep to your knitting. Be careful you don't get your arms and legs mixed up, or you'll never untangle them.”
Kadwyr hopped about and flirted his tailfeathers, croaking and cackling as the other creatures came forward one by one. The owl declared that he and his fellows would serve as night watch. The fox vowed to use his cunning to baffle the hunter and lead him on false trails. The bees pledged to wield their stings as swords and daggers. The bears offered their strength, the stags their speed, and the badgers their courage to protect their neighbors and themselves.
Last of all, plodding under his heavy burden, came Crugan-Crawgan the turtle.
“Friend of turtles,” began Crugan-Crawgan in a halting voice, pondering each word, “I came … yes, well, that is to say I, ah, started … in all possible haste …”
“And we'll be well into next week by the time you're done telling us,” Kadwyr said impatiently.
“We are … as I should be the first to admit … we are, alas, neither swift nor strong. But if I might be allowed … ah, permitted to state … we're solid. Very, very … solid. And … steady.”
“Have done!” cried Kadwyr, hopping onto the turtle's shell. “You'll put me to sleep! The safest thing you can do is stay locked up in that portable castle of yours. Pull in your head! Tuck in your tail! I'll see to it the hunter doesn't batter down your walls. By the way, old fellow, didn't you have a race with a snail the other day? Tell me, who won?”
“Oh, that,” replied Crugan-Crawgan. “Yes, Kadwyr, you see, what happened …”
Kadwyr did not wait for the turtle's answer, for Medwyn now declared the council ended, and the crow flapped away, laughing
and cackling to himself. “Gnats and spiders! Turtles! What an army! I'll have to keep an eye on all of them.”
Once in the forest, Kadwyr gave little thought to Medwyn's warning. The beavers toiled at making their dams into strongholds; the squirrels stopped up the crannies in their hollow trees; the moles dug deeper tunnels and galleries. Though every creature offered him shelter in case of need, Kadwyr shook his glossy head and answered:
“Not for me, those holes and burrows! Wits and wings! Wings and wits! There's not a crow hatched who can't get the best of any hunter!”
Soon Edyrnion and his eagle kinsmen came swooping into the forest, beating their wings and spreading the alarm. The wolf packs leaped from their lairs, the bears from their dens, the foxes from their earths, gathering to join battle against the hunter; and all the forest dwellers, each in his own way, made ready to defend nest and bower, cave and covert.
Kadwyr, however, perched on a branch, rocking back and forth, whistling gaily, daring the invader to catch him. While the smaller, weaker animals hid silent and fearful, Kadwyr hopped up and down, cawing at the top of his voice. And before the crow knew it, the hunter sprang from a thicket.
Garbed in the skins of slain animals, a long knife at his belt, a bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder, the hunter had come so stealthily that Kadwyr scarcely had a moment to collect his wits. The hunter flung out a net so strong and finely woven that once caught in it, no creature could hope to struggle free.
But Kadwyr's eye was quicker than the hunter's snare. With a taunting cackle the crow hopped into the air, flapped his wings, and
flew from the branch to perch higher in the tree, where he peered down and brazenly waggled his tailfeathers.
Leaving his net, with a snarl of anger the hunter unslung his bow, fitted an arrow to the string, and sent the shaft hissing straight for the crow.
Chuckling, Kadwyr fluttered his wings and sailed out of the path of the speeding arrow; then turned back to dance in the air in front of the furious hunter, who drew the bow again and again. Swooping and soaring, the crow dodged every shaft.
Seeing the hunter's quiver almost empty, Kadwyr grew even bolder, gliding closer, circling beyond reach, then swooping back to liven the game again. Gnashing his teeth at the elusive prey, the hunter struck out wildly, trying to seize the nimble crow.
Kadwyr sped away. As he flew, he turned his head in a backward glance to jeer at his defeated pursuer. In that heedless instant, the crow collided with a tree trunk.
Stunned, Kadwyr plummeted to the ground. The hunter ran toward him. Kadwyr croaked in pain as he strove to fly to safety. But his wing hung useless at his side, broken.
Breathless, Kadwyr scrambled into the bushes. The hunter plunged after him. Earthbound and wounded, Kadwyr began wishing he had not been so quick to turn down shelter from the squirrels and beavers. With the hunter gaining on him, the crow gladly would have squeezed into any tunnel, or burrow, or rabbit hole he could find. But all had been sealed, blocked, and barred with stones and twigs.
Dragging his wing, the crow skittered through the underbrush. His spindly legs were ill-suited to running, and he longed for the swiftness of the hare. He stumbled and went sprawling. An arrow buried itself in the ground beside him.
The hunter drew his bow. Though this was his pursuer's last arrow, Kadwyr knew himself a hopeless target. Only a few paces away, the hunter took aim.
The same instant, a cloud of dust came whirling through the trees. Expecting in another moment to be skewered, Kadwyr now saw the hunter fling up his arms and drop his bow. The arrow clattered harmlessly into the leaves. Next, Kadwyr was sure his opponent had lost his wits. Roaring with pain, the hunter waved his arms and beat his hands against his face, trying to fend off the cloud buzzing about his head and shoulders.
The host of gnats swarmed over the raging hunter, darted into his ears and eyes, streamed up his nose and out his mouth. The more the hunter swept away the tiny creatures, the more they set upon him.
“Gwybeddin!” burst out the crow as one of the swarm broke from the cloud and lit on his beak. “Thank you for my life! Did I call you a flyspeck? You and your gnats are as brave as eagles!”
“Hurry!” piped the gnat. “We're doing all we can, but he's more than a match for us. Quick, away with you!”
Kadwyr needed no urging. The gnats had saved him from the hunter's arrows and, as well, had let him snatch a moment's rest. The crow set off again as fast as he could scramble through the dry leaves and dead branches of the forest floor.
Brave though Gwybeddin and his fellows had been, their efforts did not keep the hunter long from the chase. Soon Kadwyr heard footfalls crashing close behind him. The hunter had easily found the crow's trail and seemed to gain in strength while his prey weakened with each step.
The crow plunged deeper into the woods, hoping to hide in a heavy growth of brambles or a thicket where the hunter could not
follow. Instead, to Kadwyr's dismay, the forest here grew sparser. Before the crow could find cover, the hunter sighted him and gave a triumphant shout.
Not daring another backward glance, Kadwyr scrambled through a grove of trees. The ground before him lay clear and hard-packed; but while the way was easier for him, he realized it was easier, too, for his enemy to overtake him.
Just then Kadwyr heard a bellow of rage. The crow halted to see the hunter twisting and turning, struggling as if caught in his own net. Kadwyr stared in amazement. Amid the trees, Nedir and all the spiders in the forest had joined to spin their strongest webs. The strands were so fine the hunter had not seen them, but now they clung to him, twined and wrapped around him, and the more he tried to fight loose, the more they enshrouded him.
From a branch above Kadwyr's head, sliding down a single invisible thread, came Nedir, waving her long legs.
“We spinners and weavers have done our best,” she called out, “but even our stoutest webs will soon give way. Be off, while you have a chance!”
“Granny spider,” cried Kadwyr, “forgive me if I ever made sport of you. Your knitting saved my neck!”
Once again the crow scurried away, sure this time he had escaped for good and all. Despite the pain in his wing, his spirits rose and he began gleefully cackling at the sight of the hunter so enmeshed in a huge cocoon.
But Kadwyr soon snapped his beak shut. His eyes darted about in alarm, for his flight had brought him to the edge of a steep cliff.

Other books

The Princess and the Duke by Allison Leigh
Time Off for Murder by Zelda Popkin
Where Do I Go? by Neta Jackson
Star Rigger's Way by Jeffrey A. Carver
I Live With You by Carol Emshwiller