The Paradise War

Chapter 38 The Journey Home

The body of the Great King lay in Findargad for three days, as the days of feasting turned instead to mourning. During that time, Tegid prepared the body for its eventual burial and directed preparations for the journey home to Sycharth. The king would not be buried in the mountain fortress, but would be laid to rest in the Vale of Modornn, in the gravemound of the Liwyddi kings. The body was washed and clothed in his finest garments. His sword and spear were burnished bright; his shield was painted fresh, the circular bosses polished so that they shone like suns.

On the fourth day, the corpse was carried from the king's chamber and placed on a wagon piled high with furs. Then, when all who had survived Lord Nudd's onslaught had assembled in the yard, Tegid led the wagon out through the ~ates and we began the long journey home. Six warriors walked on either side of the funeral wagon carrying spears. Prince Meldron rode behind the wagon, dour and mournful, snd all the rest of the Llwyddi followed after.

Thus we left Findargad. At Tegid's behest, I walked at the head of the horse, opposite him. The first day we did not speak at all. Tegid, eyes fixed on the trail ahead, stumped along lost in thought, his brow creased in a reflective frown. I do not know what occupied him, and he did not say.

In the days that followed, however, he began to share the substance of his ruminations with me. Solemn and somber, his musings formed a bleak assessment of the future he saw stretching before us: the future described in the Banfбith's terrible prophecy.

«The Golden King in his kingdom will strike his foot against the Rock of Contention. The Worm of fiery breath will claim the throne of Prydain,» he said gloomily. We were standing beside a mountain stream, waiting for the retinue to cross so that we could continue. «Look at them,» he indicated the long lines of people splashing through the water, «they are lost and do not know it. There is no one to lead them. A people without a king are worse than sheep without a shepherd.»

«They have Prince Meldron,» I pointed out. The prince sat his horse in the center of the stream while the people crossed before him. It was as if he were indeed watching over his flock. Siawn, I noticed, stood nearby, leaning on his spear. In the last days he had never been out of the prince's sight, so I had not been able to speak to him alone.

Tegid cast me a sidelong glance, his mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. «Prince Meidron will never sit his father's throne.»

I asked him what he meant, but he gave me to know that it was not something he cared to voice aloud at the moment. And he warned me: «Speak of this to no one.»

I considered this to be the end of the matter, until a little while later, when we were on the trail once more. «The king will be buried properly.» The bard spoke so softly, I thought he was speaking to himself. «I may not be able to prevent what is to come, but at least I will see my king laid in his tomb in a rightwise manner. We are not sunk so low that the ancient rites are to be abandoned.»

«Tegid, tell me. What do you think is going to happen?»

He raised his head, gazing into the cloud-wrapped distance. «That you already know,» he replied.

«If I knew, I would not ask.» I was growing tired of his evasive manner.

«You know,» he repeated, and added, almost as a challenge, «Liew would know.»

Before I could wheedle any more out of him, we were halted by the return of the Wolf Pack. The warriors under Prince Meidron's command had ridden hard and travelled far by the look of them. Their clothing was dirty, and their horses were lathered and muddy. The prince saw them approaching, left his place behind the funeral wagon, and rode ahead to meet them.

«I wonder what they found,» I remarked, watching the prince and his warriors conferring a little way ahead of us in the trail.

«Why do you wonder?» Tegid asked tartly. «Are you blind?»

«I suppose I must be,» I snapped.

«Open your eyes! Must I describe what is before your very nose?»

«The Wolf Pack has returned,» I said in exasperation. «The prince is talking to them.»

«Is Paladyr with them?» Tegid asked snidely.

«No-no, he is not.»

«Well?»

«Well, they did not find him. Paladyr must have escaped.»

«Paladyr escaped.» Tegid rolled his eyes. «These men can track a boar through the depths of the darkest wood. They can run a deer until it drops from exhaustion. They can follow an eagle in flight and find its eyrie. How is it, then, that Paladyr has escaped?»

«They let him go? But why would they do that?»

«Why indeed?»

That was all I got out of him before the prince turned his horse and trotted back to his place behind the funeral wagon and the cortege continued on its long, difficult way. I sifted Tegid's insinuations carefully in my mind as we travelled, weighing each word before adding it to the others.

Clearly, he was preoccupied with the Banflith's prophecy, and he was determined to see it fulfilled through me. That was unsettling enough, but even more alarming was his intimation that Prince Meidron had caused his father's death. Because if Meldron was involved, Simon surely was as well. The two were rarely apart! It was unlikely the prince could plan something so treacherous, and so devastating, without Simon knowing about it. Perhaps Simon had participated.. . perhaps he had done more than that.

The thought chilled me to the marrow. What had Simon done?

I pondered this, turning it over in my mind for a long time. But the day was bright and good, and the sun warm where it touched the skin. Despite my apprehension, I was slowly drawn once more to the clear vistas before me. The snow still lay deep on the mountainsides, and the trail was mostly snow-covered. It had begun to melt, however; brown and gray stone poked through the white, and occasionally even some green could be seen.

As if to soothe the Sollen-ravaged land, Gyd was quickly reasserting its gentle claim. The streams and freshets ran with melting snow, and water dripped from every rock. The sky remained clear for the most part, and the sun warm. The nights were chill and the ground wet, but we built the fires high and slept on ox skins. A complement of warriors stood watch over the king's corpse, taking it in turn through the night.

On the night I took my turn with the first watch, it chanced that Simon was also in the group. I waited until our replacements came to relieve us, and then went to him. It was the first opportunity I had had to speak to him privately in a very long time.

«Siawn,» I said, using the name he preferred. I touched him on the arm.

He whirled around, his fists ready, his face hard in the light of a rising moon. His eyes played over my face, but he betrayed no sign of recognition. Neither was he awed by my presence, as so many seemed to be. «Llew,» he said, and his lips formed a sneer. «What does the mighty Liew want with me?»

His sneer angered me. «I want to talk to you,» I replied. He turned away, but I followed, falling into step with him.

«Simon, what is happening? What are you involved in?»

He swung towards me, angry once more. «I am Siawn Hy!»

«Siawn,» I said quickly, «what do you know of Paladyr?»

At mention of the fugitive's name, his eyes narrowed. «Nothing,» he said, his voice bristling with menace. He made to turn away again, but I caught him by the arm and held him fast.

«I am not finished,» I told him.

«I have nothing to say to you,» he spat. «Go your way, Llew.» He put his hand to my wrist and removed my hand. Keen, virulent hatred flared in his eyes. Anger flowed from him in waves. He stepped slowly away.

«Wait!» I said, desperate to hold him. «Siawn, wait, I want Lo join you.»

He halted, rigid. «Join us? What do you mean?»

«You know what I mean,» I told him, and, though my heart raced, I heard my voice cool and insinuating. «Do you think I am stupid? I can see what is happening. I want to join you.»

Suspicious, he glared at me, trying to discern the intent behind my words. «The prince listens to you,» I persisted. «I have seen the way he depends on you, Siawn. He would be nothing without you.»

He stiffened, and I thought he would turn away. But he was intrigued. «Speak plainly,» he said. «I am listening.»

«Meldron wants to be king,» I said. «I can help.»

«How?»

«Tegid will not allow it. He will prevent it.»

«Tegid is not important. If he stands in our way, we will kill him.»

«No,» I said, «you need him alive.»

«Bards!» The word was a curse on his lips. «Meidron would be king now if not for the meddling of bards. Things will change when Meldron takes the throne.»

«The people would rebel,» I pointed out. «They would never support a king who killed their bard. But there is an easier way. If Tegid were seen to deliver the kingship to Meidron outright, the people would not question it.»

«You could do this?»

«I could help. I have Tegid's trust; he tells me things. I could help you a great deal,» I said. «But I want something in return.»

Simon understood that. «What do you want?»

«I want a place with Meidron when he is king,» I said simply. «I want to join the Wolf Pack.»

«It is true the prince listens to me,» he said, for he could not help boasting. «I will speak 10 him for you. I will tell the prince of your interest.» He lowered his voice. «It may be that Meldron will require some assurance of your loyalty.»

«What might that be?»

He thought for a moment, eyes sly and glinting in the moonlight. «Find out what Tegid plans to do when we reach Sycharth.»

«That will take time,» I lied. «I will have to coax him without raising suspicion.»

«It should not be difficult for mighty Liew.» The sneer of contempt was back in his voice.

«Very well, I will do it.»

Simon reached out and gripped me by the shoulder. My flesh crawled under his touch. «Good,» he said. «The prince will be pleased.»

He lifted his chin arrogantly, arid then turned away. I peered through the darkness at his disappearing form; he swaggered as he walked.

The next morning, as we reaiied ourselves for the day's march, I went to Tegid and asked him, «When is Beltain?»

The bard thought for a momefit-as well he might, for the unnaturally long Sollen had played havoc with the regular observances of sun and season. «It is. . . ,» he paused again, rethinking his calculations, «-the third dawn from this one.»

«We will not reach Sycharth la time,» I reflected.

«No,» Tegid agreed, «we will lot reach the caer in time for Beltain.»

«Where will we hold the celebration?»

«At one of the sacred places along the trail,» he replied, «and there are several. There is ~ mound and standing stone near here. We should reach it th~ day after tomorrow. That will serve.»

Yes, I thought, that will serve. For the next two days, I watched the prince and his coteiie closely-and knew that I was being watched in turn. In thc early evening of the second day as we set about making cimp for the night, Simon approached me while I watered tie horses.

«What do you have for me?» ic was too eager. Ambition burned bright in the prince and his hampion. I knew I had them.

«Not here! Tegid is suspicious. He must not see us together,» I said harshly, glancing nervously over my shoulder. «There is a mound and standing stone just ahead of us on the trail. We will pass by it tomorrow. Meet me there at dawn.»

He was accustomed to such secrecy, and accepted it without protest. «Dawn, then,» he agreed. «At the standing stone.»

«And come alone,» I warned. «The fewer people who know about this the better.»

«Do not give me orders!» he growled.

We parted then, and I walked back to my place at Tegid's campfire. We ate our meager meal in silence and unrolled our oxhides upon the damp ground when we finished. I was unsettled in my mind and in my heart, but Tegid seemed not to notice; no doubt he had more than enough on his mind.

That night, well before dawn, I rose from an uneasy sleep, took up my spear, pulled my cloak around me, and crept away. I stayed well away from the other campfires, skirting the sleeping places of the prince and his warriors until I struck the trail once again. With a setting moon to guide me, I hastened along the path. I dared not think about what lay ahead, nor what I must do.

I followed the twisting path, dodging low-hanging branches and the dark boles of trees. As I made my solitary way through the forest, I began to fear that Simon would not come alone, that he would bring the prince with him. If he did, my plan would fail. Eventually I came within sight of the meeting place. As the sun lightened the east, I walked impatiently around the large, grassy mound with its slender finger of standing stone jutting from the top. Now I began to worry that Simon would not come at all.

He did not disappoint me. Simon's ambition was great enough to ensure that he would do exactly as I said. I saw him approaching through the dim predawn light and forced myself to draw three deep, steadying breaths. I raised my spear in greeting.

He smiled his sly, superior smile when he saw me. «Well, I am here. What do you have for me?»

«Have you spoken to the prince?»

«I have,» he replied, striding confidently nearer. «He will show his gratitude when the time comes. You will see.»

«Good.» I glanced quickly skyward. It was the time-between-times. «Walk with me,» I said.

I could see Simon thought this an odd request, but he obeyed. «This has not been easy,» I began slowly, moving around the base of the mound. «Tegid can be very difficult, as you know. He is not one to openly discuss what he is thinking. He is a bard-you know how they are.»

He made a derisive sound low in his throat. «Go on,» he said.

«I just wanted you to know that it has not been easy to get information from him. There were certain difficulties.»

«I told you Meidron stands ready to give you the reward you deserve,» Simon said, suddenly suspicious. «What else do you want?»

«We will come back to that. Now listen, this is what I found out: as soon as we reach Sycharth, Tegid is going to summon a gathering of bards to help him decide what to do.»

«Why? Does he not know what to do?» He halted, his brow lowering skeptically.

«You do not understand,» I said bluntly. I kept walking; Simon followed, and we completed the first circuit around the mound. «Meidryn Mawr must be buried first. It takes time to choose a new king.»

«How much time?»

«That is not important.» I kept walking.

«How much time?» Simon demanded.

«Twenty days at least,» I said, choosing a number from thin air. «Once the bards have assembled-and we do not even know how many are left-there are preparations to be made, rituals and ceremonies that must be performed.»

«We know all this,» Simon replied in a clumsy attempt to bully me. «What else?»

I stopped and turned to him, gripping my spear tight between my hands. «If you know so much,» I growled, «why accept my help at all? Do you want to learn what I found out, or not?»

«I am here,» he replied tersely. «I am listening.»

I started walking once more, feigning a sullen silence. The ruse worked. He followed. «What else did you learn?» he asked in a mollifying tone.

«Well,» I replied slowly, «I think that Tegid will wait until all the bards have assembled, and then he will delay the choosing.»

«Delay? Why would he delay choosing?»

«There is an ancient law,» I answered, drawing out my words, «which allows the bard to gather all the men of the dan to a hosting for the kingship.»

«What manner of hosting?» This intrigued Simon, as I knew it would.

«That is for the bards to decide,» I bluffed, completing the second sunwise circuit of the mound and beginning the third. «Usually, there are numerous martial contests-trials of strength, skill at arms, horseinanship-and tests of courage, and mental agility.» I paused to let these words sink in, and then said, «The king will be chosen from among those who fare best in the competitions,» I told him, «not just the princes and chieftains.»

Simon bristled. 'Why should a new ruler be so chosen when there is an heir with royal blood, one who is prepared to take the crown that is his by right?» He set his jaw in defiance of my words, and I knew I had read him right. I knew what he had done, and I could guess how he had done it:

Simon had inflamed Prince Meldron's ambition with talk of birthright succession: kingship passing from father to son, through bloodlines rather than through the merit of the individual. Simon, whose entire life was a testament to unmerited privilege, would champion the idea. And he would have no trouble at all convincing the weak and greedy prince that he was entitled to his father's throne.

Yet this is not the way of Albion: kings are chosen from among the clan's best men; and the bards, who retain the power to confer sovereignty, do the choosing.

Had he won over Prince Meidron with his easy talk of a kingship that could be gained without merit, without the blessing of the bard? A kingship that came through the blood of birth, not the blood of sacrifice?

I did not know who killed the Phantarch; indeed, I could not guess how he had even been found. But I was absolutely certain of one fact: Simon, who had forced his way into this world, had brought with him alien and deadly ideas. His heresies had caused the deaths of Ollathir, the Phantarch, the king, and countless thousands who had been destroyed by Nudd and his hordes. He had blithely and selfishly sought to take what could not be his, to create an order that would serve his selfish interest.

He knew and cared nothing about true kingship. He knew nothing of the Song, or the Cythrawl. Or of the host of powers and forces loosed by his words of treachery-even now! He cared only for himself. His greed had almost destroyed Albion, and it had to be stopped. It was time for Simon to leave.

We walked a bit further, completing our third sunwise circuit of the mound. The sky lightened to sunrise, glowing softly pink. He was silent for some moments, thinking through what I told him. «Tegid's hosting,» he said at last, «when will it begin?»

«It must take place in the space between one new moon and the next, sometime after Beltain and before Samhain,» I told hun.

«Beltain is soon,» Simon observed.

«It is,» I confirmed. «Very soon.»

I stepped quickly to one side, levelling my spear upon Simon in the same swift motion. He glanced at the blade and made to push it aside. «Stand easy,» I told him. «It is over, Simon. You are going back.»

«Gomg back?» He wondered in genuine bewilderment.

«Home, Simon. You do not belong here. This is not your world. You have done great harm here, and it has to stop.» He drew breath to protest, but I did not let him speak. «Turn around,» I ordered, motioning toward the mound with the tip of the spear.

«You would not dare hurt me,» he scoffed, throwing back his cloak and reaching for his sword. With a quick flick of the spear, I nicked his upper arm. He looked at the blood welling from the scratch and became angry. «You will die for that!»

«Turn around, Simon,» I commanded.

Simon glared and hesitated. «You want it for yourself! You think yourself a king.»

«Move!» I jabbed at him with the spear and stepped closer.

«I am right behind you.»

«You will regret this,» he spat with cool menace. «I promise you will die regretting this.»

«I will take that chance,» I said, stepping near and pressing the sharp blade of my spear into his ribs. «But you are going back where you belong. Now move!»

He turned and stepped stiffly to the dark cave-like entrance yawning open at the base of the mound. With a last murderous look at me, he bent his head and entered.

I did not spare a moment celebrating my success. The Otherworld portal would not remain open long. Simon was right, I was already regretting what I had done-but not for the reason he suggested. I glanced around fair Albion one last time, and realized how much I had come to love it, how much I would miss it all. Sadly, and with extreme reluctance, I leaned my spear against the mound. Then, breathing a silent farewell, I bent my head and stepped into the dark entrance.