All anger was gone from Angharad's voice now, and only a deep sadness remained as she sternly said, "Pwyll of Dyfed, when you came on your marriage day to wed with my sister, Rhiannon, she asked but two things of you. She asked that you give her your complete love and your complete trust. It was so little in the face of the sacrifices she made in order to become your wife. But you were unable to keep faith with my sister, Pwyll. You betrayed her on both accounts. You ceased to trust her in the face of your people's false condemnations of her, simply because she was not of the Cymri race. Therefore, her credence was to be instantly doubted; but even that the Fair Folk might have forgiven you had you remained true in your heart to her, but you have not. You lay with Bronwyn of the White Breast, and your love for Rhiannon wavered as surely as your faith in her wavered. Did you ever once in all these years remember the great concessions my sister made for you, Pwyll of Dyfed? You left her helpless. You left her unable to defend herself. You left her caught between two worlds, and for that, Pwyll of Dyfed, you will be punished!
"Our people have watched agonized as Rhiannon was made to suffer because of you and your people. Even you, O foolish Cymri, cannot know the depths of her suffering! You were too busy wallowing in your own self-pity. It has been agreed by the high council of all the Fair Folk that Rhiannon be restored to her own kind. Though she has tried hard, she can never be one of you. To leave her caught between two worlds as you did was cruel. We are not by nature a cruel people. This, however, could not be done until the natural balance of things was corrected. With the restoration of my nephew, Anwyl, to his rightful place, it is. Rhiannon is once again one of us, and I have come to take her home."
"My powers…?" Rhiannon whispered softly.
"Restored, dearest sister," replied Angharad. "It is as it was once before. You will never again be helpless before anyone!"
Her heart hammering joyously, Rhiannon smiled the first smile of genuine happiness that anyone had seen her smile in years. Kissing her son, she told him, "Go now with Teirnyon and Elaine. I will see you soon."
Anwyl put his arms about his mother's neck and hugged her hard as he placed another kiss upon her cheek. He did not protest as Rhiannon placed him back into Elaine's welcoming arms.
"I will keep him safe," Elaine promised Rhiannon, her warm and loving gaze meeting the violet eyes of her foster son's mother.
"Let us go home, Angharad," Rhiannon said simply.
"Rhiannon!" Pwyll's anguished voice tore through the hall. "Rhiannon, you must forgive me! I love you! 1 do!"
Angharad reached out and placed warning fingers over her elder sibling's lips. "That, Pwyll," she said stonily and with great satisfaction, "is your punishment! For incarnations to come, though the paths your two souls may take will meet and cross, you will remember this moment in time, although Rhi-annon's soul will not. You will know no deliverance from the guilt you now bear for your faithlessness against Rhiannon. You will remain frozen in time spiritually life after life after lifetime until another moment in time, somewhere in the future, when, if the soul now inhabiting my sister's body remembers this time and this place, and if she can find it in her heart to truly forgive you; then Pwyll, and only then, will you be given deliverance and fully exonerated of your crimes against Rhiannon. She must remember on her own, Pwyll. You cannot tell her. Until then, Pwyll of Dyfed, your own sad soul will suffer in unrequited anguish, even as you have allowed my sweet sister to suffer these past four years. And now, farewell!"
And before the astonished eyes of the assembled court of Dyfed, Angharad, queen of the Fair Folk, and her elder sister Rhiannon disappeared in another puff of silvery smoke and a thunderclap. Bronwyn whimpered, frightened, and clutched at Pwyll's arm once more, but he angrily shook her off.
"Rhiannon!" he cried after his wife. "Rhi-an-non! Rhi-an-non!"
The mauve mists. She was once again surrounded by the mauve mists, swirling about her furiously, even as the weightlessness overcame her once more, and she felt as if she were floating. Floating. Floating. No! Not floating. She was falling. Falling through time and through space at such a rapid rate that she feared she would be smashed down and totally destroyed. With a surprised gasp, Wynne of Gwernach opened her eyes and sat bolt upright in her bed, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, Madoc's handsome face before her.
Chapter 9
"YOU KNOW NOW," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.
She nodded slowly. "How long have I slept, my lord?"
"Two full days and three nights, dearling. This is the third morning."
"How long have you been here, Madoc?" she gently asked him.
"Since Megan brought me your message. You dreamed?"
"I have known the legend of Pwyll and Rhiannon since I was a child at Gwernach; but the story always ended with Rhiannon forgiving Pwyll, and their living happily ever after," Wynne replied thoughtfully.
"A Christian ending to a Celtic tale," he said bitterly. "Our people were less forgiving in those far distant times, Wynne, than they have been since the coming of the priests."
"What happened to Anwyl?" she wondered aloud. "I cannot remember."
"The Fair Folk blessed Elaine and Teirnyon with a single child, a daughter. Anwyl grew into a fine man who ruled for many years after Pwyll's death in Dyfed, and also in Gwent by his wife's side. He took Morgana, the daughter of his foster parents, for a wife."
She nodded slowly. "It is good," she said.
"Wynne?" She heard the desperate question in his voice.
"Oh, Madoc," she said, looking up at him, her mind and her heart perfectly clear and suddenly filled with understanding, "of course I forgive you! With every ounce of my being I forgive you! What happened between Pwyll and Rhiannon was a series of wrongs on both sides. Don't you understand that? The Fair Folk were obviously of a higher order than the Cymri. It was most unfair of Rhiannon to ask poor Pwyll to give her his complete love and his total trust in exchange for her promise to wed him. It was equally foolish of the besotted Pwyll to give her that promise, for he could not keep it. But how often do we recognize our own weaknesses? But most of all, Madoc, my love, it was wrong of Angharad to place such a punishment upon Pwyll. Only the Creator has such a right, but once a curse is spoken, the Creator will not gainsay it. Rather, he turns his eyes upon the one who uttered the curse. Angharad was removed as Queen of the Fair Folk, for although she loved her sister well and had shown some restraint in the end, she proved herself too immature in her judgments."
"Who took her place?" he asked, relief pouring through every fiber of his being.
"Rhiannon did. It was her fate, though she had tried to avoid it. She did not remarry, however, and her nephew Ren ruled after her." Wynne smiled at him. "Do not ask me how I know these things because I cannot tell you, my lord. I simply know now." She sat up and stretched her limbs. "I am ravenous, Madoc!"
He laughed. "Then we must feed you, dearling. I cannot have it said that I starved my bride." Suddenly his face grew serious. "You are still my betrothed wife, my sweet Wynne, aren't you?"
"Aye, my lord, I am your wife now and forever. The past is finished for us, Madoc. Only today exists, and all the wonderful tomorrows to come," Wynne told him. "I have let go of the past. I would that you release it too, that we may, upon this bright and shining spring morning, begin our life together anew."