Turning solemnly to me Blaise said, 'Myrddin ap Taliesin, will you accept this man to be your guardian and your guide?'
It was happening so fast. 'Blaise, I -'
'Answer now.'
'As he has accepted me, so will I accept him.' I gripped Maelwys' hand and he gripped mine.
Blaise drew his knife and nicked our wrists, so that our blood mingled. 'So be it,' he said, untied the thong and released us. Then, indicating the pile of swords at my feet, he said, 'Will you also accept the fealty of these men who have sworn loyalty to you with their lives?'
'Likewise, I accept the honour and fealty of these brave men. I give my life as pledge to them.'
A shout went up from the people and the warriors leaped forward and grabbed up their swords and began beating them against their shields, making a terrible din. 'Myrddin! Myrddin! Myrddin!' they cried, my name a chant on their lips.
Then I was lifted up and carried into Maelwys' hall on the shoulders of my men. As I crossed the threshold, I saw my mother standing just inside the door. Charis had seen all that had taken place and her face glowed with love for me. She stepped towards me and raised her hands, and I saw she held a sword across her palms: the Fisher King's sword.
I took up the sword and lifted it high. The men around me redoubled their acclaim, shouting and cheering and calling my name. And I sang with joy, until the timbers rang with the sound.
For this was the day I won my kingdom.
BOOK TWO
ONE
Black is the hand of heaven, blue and black,
and filled with frozen stars.
And stars and stars and stars… and stars.
Who are you, lord?
What is your name? Why do you look at me so?
Have you never seen a man disembowelled?
Have you never seen a living corpse?
Black is the day. Black is the night.
And black the hand that covers me.
Deep in Celyddon's black heart I hide.
In a forest pool I glimpse the face
beneath the antlered helm,
and I stare.
I stare until the stars stream overhead.
The red moon screams.
The birds and wild creatures take flight at my coming.
The trees taunt me. The flowers of the high meadows turn their
faces from me.
The crooked glens echo sharp accusation.
The racing waters mock me…
Rain and wind, blast and blow, snow and sun.
Bright fire of the sun. Silver moon glow.
Silver water from the soul of the mountain.
Sing fair stars of heaven! Lift your voices,
Children of the Living God!
Sharp as spearpoints are your shining songs. Life and death are they to me.
Ave! Ave, Imperator!
Listen to the bleak wind howl through your
empty halls.
Listen, High One! Hear the bones of the brave
rattle in nameless graves.
King Eagle, attend your offspring;
lift your hand and sustain them
with the crumbs of your
banquet hall.
They hunger for justice; they weep.
Only the King of Eagles can ease their craving.
Rivers flow and waters rise.
See fast ships fly over the sea.
Away, away… always away.
Take flight, my soul, away.
What is it that remains when life is gone?
How much of a man endures?
Like a beast among beasts I go.
Naked,
feeding only on the roots of the field,
drinking only rain,
I am a man no more.
Broken rocks bruise my flesh, cold winds wrack
my sorry bones.
I am undone!
I am as one cast out from the hearth of my kinsmen.
I am as one living in the shadowlands.
I am as the dead.
Shall I sing the seasons?
Shall I sing the ages of our Earth,
the days of men past and yet to come?
Shall I sing fair Broceliande?
Shall I sing drowned Llyonesse?
Pwyll, bring the Hero's Cup!
Mathonwy, bring my harp!
Taliesin, wrap your bright cloak around my shoulders!
Lieu, gather your people into your bright hall!
For I shall sing the Kingdom of Summer!
Mad Merlin… mad… you are mad Merlin… mad…
TWO
Oh, Wolf, happy Wolf, monarch of the green-clad hills, you are my only friend. Speak to me now. Give me the benefit of your wise counsel. Be my advocate and my protector.
Nothing to say, wise friend? What is that? A story?
If it pleases you, Hill Lord. I take up my harp. Hear, O People of Dust. Hearken well to the tale I shall telclass="underline"
In elder days, when the dew of creation was still fresh on the earth, Great Manawyddan ap Llyr was lord and king over seven cantrefs of Dyfed and this is the way of it.
Now Manawyddan was brother to Bran the Blessed, who himself was king of the Island of the Mighty, holding all kings and kinglets beneath him, even as he held all lands as his own. But Bran had journeyed to the Otherworld and tarried long, so Manawyddan took the kingship in his brother's place, as was his right to do. And there was not a better king in all the world than Manawyddan, and no better place for a kingdom than the wild hills of Dyfed, for these were the fairest lands in all the world.
It came about that Pryderi, prince of Gwynedd, came before Manawyddan seeking friendship for their two houses. Manawyddan received him gladly and offered a feast. So, the two friends feasted and took their ease, engaging in pleasant conversation and delighting in the songs of Manawyddan's skilful bard, Anuin Llaw, and the company of Manawyddan's beautiful queen, Rhiannon, of whom many wondrous tales are told.
After the first evening's sitting, Pryderi turned to Manawyddan. 'I have heard,' said Pryderi to his host, 'that the hunting runs of Dyfed are unmatched by any in the world.'
'Then you must heartily thank the one who told you, for truer words were never spoken.'
'Perhaps we might hunt together, you and I,' suggested Pryderi.
'Why, Cousin, we could go hunting tomorrow – that is, if nothing prevents you,' replied Manawyddan.
'Indeed, I thought I should grow old in waiting for you to ask,' said Pryderi happily. 'As it happens, nothing prevents me. Let us go tomorrow.'
On that very morrow, the two friends set out with a company of bold companions. They hunted all the day and at last stopped to rest and water their weary horses. While they waited, they climbed a nearby mound and lay down to sleep. As they slept, there came the sound of thunder; very loud thunder it was, so they awoke. And with the thunder came a thick, dark mist – so thick and so dark that no man could see his companion next to him.
When the mist finally lifted, it was bright everywhere, so that they bunked their eyes and put up their hands. When they lowered their hands once more, however, they looked out and saw that everything had changed. No more were there trees or rivers or flocks or dwellings. No animal, no smoke, no fire, no man, nothing save the hills, and those were empty, too.
'Alas, lord!' cried Manawyddan, 'What has become of our company and the rest of my kingdom? Let us go and find them if we can.'
They returned to Manawyddan's palace and found only briars and thorns in the place where his sparkling hall had been. In vain they searched the valleys and glens, trying to spot a dwelling or settlement, but only a few sickly birds did they see. And they both began to feel mournful for their loss – Manawyddan for his wife Rhiannon, who was waiting for him in their chamber, and all his brave company as well; and Pryderi for his companions and the fine gifts Manawyddan had given him.
There was nothing to be done, so they kindled a fire with the briar thickets and slept that night hungry on the cold, hard ground. In the morning they heard the sound of dogs barking, as dogs will when the scent of game inflames them.
'What can that mean?' wondered Pryderi.
'Why stand here wondering when we can find out?' said Manawyddan and leaped up at once to saddle his horse.