And without Pwyll she usually was alone. Because of Bronwyn, no woman of the court would dare to be her friend. Still, Taran and Evan ap Rhys had included her as much as they dared; but even they were careful in her company lest ugly rumors be started by Bronwyn and her adherents. Nothing had mattered to her because she was so certain of her husband's love. Now she wondered if she even had his love, having obviously lost his trust.
What had happened to Pwyll? He had always seemed so strong. His reputation as a warrior was more than well known. It was the stuff of which legends were made. Yet today, before the judgment of his council, he had crumbled before her very surprised eyes. Knowing full well there was no magic left in her, he had nonetheless pleaded helplessly with her to work enchantments she no longer possessed. Surely he did not think her like the Cymri who said a thing while not meaning it at all. He had judged her as he would have judged his own people. Knowing-surely he had known!-that it must be he who must save her, and in that moment in time Rhiannon's unbelieving heart had been quite broken.
She wept now as she sat by the window of her chamber and stared out into a new night. No matter what they did to her, she intended surviving. She had to survive in order to find her child. Anwyl was not dead. Her maternal instinct assured her of that certainty. She wept again, for she promised herself that she would not weep further after this night was over, until the day her son was returned to her. The Cymri would not rejoice over her tears.
In the hour before the dawn, she heard the sound of the key turning in her lock, and the door opened to reveal two tall and muffled dark figures. Rhiannon opened her mouth to scream, believing them to be assassins, but then Taran's voice whispered urgently to her.
"Princess, do not cry out! Evan ap Rhys and I come as friends."
"What is it you want of me?" she asked them.
"Princess, we believe you when you say that your son has been stolen but you know not by whom. We want to find the child, but we do not know how or where to start. Once your punishment begins it will be dangerous to attempt to speak with you. So when we must communicate with you, we will stand near you, apparently speaking to each other. Be most careful when you answer us, and do not give Cynbel of Teifi or his daughter any cause to punish you further."
"I know Cynbel would set his daughter in my place," Rhiannon told them.
Taran nodded. "He would, but she is not all that she appears to be, though some be fooled by her docile ways. But tell us how we may help you, my gracious lady?"
"You must speak with the women who were set to watch over my son and me before they depart the castle," Rhiannon said. "Surely one of them saw something but was too afraid to speak it for fear of retribution by Bronwyn. Do not speak with them together, but rather interview them alone. There is one, a new maid just come to court, who would have been kind to me had she not been afraid of the chief lady-in-waiting. Only after you have spoken with these ladies can I direct you further."
Taran nodded with understanding. "We will begin immediately, my lady, for these women will flee Pwyll's anger into banishment this very day, lest their deeds bring further disfavor upon their families."
"Princess," Evan ap Rhys said quietly. "We would spare you this punishment if we could, but we are helpless to do so despite the inequity of it. Do not fear, however, for we will allow no harm to come to you. This much I vow to you!"
Surprised by the deep passion in his voice, Rhiannon looked into Evan ap Rhys's eyes and saw something she had never suspected. She saw that he loved her, and the knowledge saddened her, for Evan, like herself, would love an unrequited love. Flushing, she touched his hand gently, thanking him and asking, "How is my husband?"
"He mourns," Taran said bluntly, "but for whom he mourns-you, himself, or the child-I do not know, my princess."
They left her then, and despite the bitterness facing her, Rhiannon felt stronger than she had in the past hours. To know that she was unquestioningly believed by these two stalwart men, and that she was not totally alone among the Cymri of Dyfed, was comforting in a time when there was little comfort to be had.
She washed her face and hands and bound up her long golden hair into a single braid. She chose from amongst her many garments a simple gown the color of lavender, which was girded about her waist with a rope belt of violet silk. The only jewelry she wore was her wedding band, and her dainty feet were bare.
As the first light of dawn touched the distant horizon they came for her. About her slender neck they placed a heavy leather horse collar which rested with brutal weight upon her slim shoulders and caused her to stagger as she was led outside to a stone mounting block before the castle's main gate. Those about her were all members of the council. Pwyll was nowhere in evidence.
"You will sit here, woman of the Fair Folk," said Cynbel of Teifi. He spoke her race as if it were a curse. "To each person who comes past you will say, standing, 'As I murdered my child, I am condemned to remain here for a term of seven years. Should you wish to enter the court of Pwyll of Dyfed it is my duty to bear you upon my back into the prince's hall. This is my punishment.' Do you understand, woman of the Fair Folk?"
"I did not murder my son," Rhiannon said quietly.
"The child is gone. You will not produce him. It is the same thing. The council has judged you guilty of infanticide. If you do not speak the words assigned you, you will be punished further. You may expect no help or intervention from the prince. He has left you entirely in our charge," Cynbel said coldly. "Now let me hear you speak your part as I have told you, that I may be satisfied you know them."
"I will speak them," Rhiannon told him, "but your words cannot make so that which is not, Cynbel of Teifi."
Word of the cruel punishment placed on Rhiannon of the Fair Folk spread throughout all the lands of Cymri. Those who passed by or into Pwyll's castle would not suffer the beautiful, obviously grieving woman to bear them on her frail back. If anything, they were shamed by the treatment meted out by the council of Dyfed and astounded that Pwyll did nothing to clear his wife of the charges against her.
The common people murmured among themselves, suspicious of the quick judgment visited upon Rhiannon. They knew nothing but good of this princess of the Fair Folk. How, they asked themselves, could a woman not even recovered from the birth of an eagerly awaited child be party to a plot to harm him? And why? And once again the question of why no one sought to locate the lost infant. They were poor and powerless in the main, but they did not lack good sense.
When the third full day of her punishment had passed, and Rhiannon sat quiet and alone in the farthermost corner of the Great Hall of Dyfed, she heard Taran's voice near her.
"We have news, princess. On the night your child disappeared, wine was brought to the women watching over you and the babe. It came with the compliments of Bronwyn of the White Breast. After they had drunk it, your women fell into a deep sleep. All but one. The lady newly come to court did not drink the wine, for wine she told us, disagrees with her. She remained awake and saw what happened. She has been afraid to speak for fear she would not be believed. Then, too, she allowed herself to be involved in the chief waiting woman's lie. She is riddled with shame over her cowardice, and filled with remorse for her part in this affair. I discovered we are related, and so she is willing to speak to me, but she will say nothing to anyone else."
Rhiannon put her hands over her mouth, pretending to cough, and said, "Who stole my son?"