Pwyll's eyes widened in surprise at Teirnyon's words. "I have not heard this tale before," he said, but there was confusion in his voice. "Why have I not heard this tale?"
"Because it is undoubtedly a false tale!" snapped Bronwyn angrily, disregarding her father's warning look.
Teirnyon once again ignored the shrewish woman and said to Pwyll, "How many words have you spoken to your wife since you allowed her to be condemned, oh prince of Dyfed? She knew her babe was stolen away, but you, I am told, influenced by the prejudice of others, cut yourself off from her immediately. You did not grieve with her, or comfort her, or defend her innocence in any way."
A deep flush of shame stained Pwyll's face at the lord of Gwent's sharp words. "Ahhh, Rhiannon!" he said, speaking her name aloud for the first time in four years.
Rhiannon raised her violet eyes to him, piercing him with a look of such aching sadness that the prince cried out aloud as if in pain; but she spoke no word to him.
Teirnyon picked up his tale once more. "I knew of this creature that Taran and Evan sought, but I did not know what it was or where to find it. You see, my lord, I have a particularly fine mare among my herds that I love right well. For many years she foaled regularly, but there was a period of several years in which her newborn foals always disappeared under mysterious circumstances almost immediately after their births. Four years ago I determined that I should not lose the colt that my mare was about to drop, and so when she went into her labor, I brought her into my castle at Gwent for safety's sake.
"The foal was born and he was a beautiful one. As I stood admiring it, the windows in the room flew open and a huge clawed hand reached through and sought to take the newborn colt from its mother. I took my broadsword and hacked at that damned arm with its greedy, clawed hand! From outside, a terrible howl like a rushing, mighty wind arose. I dashed out into the darkened courtyard to do battle with whatever it was that was stealing my horses. I could see nothing in all the blackness, for there was no moon that night. Then suddenly I felt something being dropped at my feet and all was silent.
"I reached down and lifted the bundle up. Imagine my surprise when I found that the swaddling contained a healthy, newborn infant boy. I brought the child to my dear wife, Elaine, who is childless. We decided to call him Cant, meaning bright, for the hair on his head was shining and golden. We did not question our good fortune in obtaining a son to love and raise after all our years of childlessness. We even considered the possibility the creature left us the infant in exchange for the colt. We had absolutely no idea where the baby came from until Taran of the Hundred Battles and Evan ap Rhys arrived in Gwent some weeks ago with their tragic tale of Rhiannon of the Fair Folk, and Pwyll of Dyfed and the baby lost to them."
Teirnyon then looked down at the small boy by his side. "Show the lady Rhiannon the cloth you came wrapped in, Cant."
All eyes turned to the sturdy child with the hair of golden hue as he stepped forward and handed Rhiannon a length of green and silver brocade. Her tear-filled eyes devoured him eagerly, and the boy looked back at her with identical eyes. Her hands shaking, she took the fabric, though she did not really need to examine it. She had recognized it immediately. It was her own fine work, created upon her high loom during the months in which she carried her child. Her infant son had been wrapped in it the night he had been born. The night he had been stolen away from her.
Rhiannon fell slowly to her knees, sobbing. "I called you Anwyl," she said. "Anwyl, my beloved son!" And Rhiannon hugged the little boy who slipped so easily into her embrace and kissed her lovingly upon her wet cheeks.
Teirnyon bent and took the fallen brocade up once more. Handing it to Pwyll, he asked, "Do you recognize it, my lord? Is this indeed the cloth in which your son was wrapped on the night he disappeared?"
Pwyll took the cloth, fingering it with wonder. He nodded mutely, unable to believe his sudden good fortune. By some marvelous miracle his only son and heir had just been restored to him. "How can I thank you?" he asked the lord of Gwent thickly, his voice sticking in his throat.
"You cannot," Teirnyon told him bluntly. "By returning your son to you, I lose mine and I break my dear wife's heart. She has loved Cant and raised him with tenderness since the night he came to us. How can I compensate her for such a loss? There is no way, my lord. Elaine and I, however, learning the truth of our son's birth and seeing the stamp of both Dyfed and the Fair Folk upon his brow, could not in honor keep him from you, nor allow his sweet mother's name to be further besmirched."
"I indeed owe you a great debt of gratitude, Teirnyon, and my friends Taran of the Hundred Battles and Evan ap Rhys as well. Where are they?"
"We are here, my lord," came Taran's voice as he and Evan stepped forward from among the clustering crowd of courtiers.
"Whatever you want," Pwyll told them. "It is yours for what you have done for me and for Dyfed!"
"We did not do it for you, or for Dyfed, my lord," Evan ap Rhys said harshly. "We did it for the lady Rhiannon whom we love and honor."
Rhiannon now stood, lifting her son up into her arms as she did so. Seeing them together thusly left no doubt among those in the hall that they were mother and son. "Thank you, my friends," she told them quietly, and then she said, "Will you go with my son back to Gwent, Taran of the Hundred Battles and Evan ap Rhys? Will you teach him of his heritage and guard him until he comes of his manhood?"
"We will, lady, and right gladly," the two warriors chorused in unison.
Rhiannon then looked to Teirnyon and Elaine. "There is no need for you to lose your son, our son, Anwyl whom you call Cant. It is the custom among the Cymri, is it not, to foster out a prince's children? It is also a mother's right among the Cymri to choose the place for her child's fostering. My son now knows the truth of his birth. Taran and Evan will teach him all he needs to know of Dyfed. I return him to Gwent with you both until he is a man. You, Teirnyon, teach my son all he needs to know about ruling that he may one day rule in Dyfed with honor, having learned honor from an honorable man." Her meaning was brutally clear.
Both Teirnyon and Elaine were overjoyed, but they were curious as well. The lady of Gwent spoke softly to Rhiannon. "Having found your son, you would let him go again, oh princess?"
Rhiannon nodded. "Anwyl has never known any other parents but you two. I want my child to be happy, and I tell you that having lived six years among the suspicion and intolerance of this court, I know for certain that Anywl's happiness, and indeed his very safety, are not to be found here in Dyfed. Here I will have no control over my son's fate. They would take him from me and seek to erase from his memory that half-heritage which comes to him through me. You surely knew by the very look of him that he was not entirely of the Cymri race, and yet you have both loved him without reservation."