“Though I knew I would get nothing, I looked in all the nets and from the last one fetched a sealskin bag-which I carried to the shore and opened. Inside was a child, a beautiful child.”
Never had Charis heard such a tale. “A sealskin bag?”
“We thought him dead,” replied Elphin with a nod to Rhonwyn, “but he lived and I soon had need of a wet nurse.”
“Elphin found me in my mother’s house in Diganhwy. My own babe was stillborn days before, and I was disgraced. Elphin took me to wife. I nursed Taliesin as my own, looked upon him as my own, raised him as my own, loved him as my own.” She nodded to Elphin. “We both did. But he was not ours.”
They told her many other things about Taliesin then, and when they had finished Charis turned to the body of her husband. “He was born of the sea,” she said, gazing at the man she knew but now seemed not to know at all, “and he must return to the sea.”
Hafgan raised his hands, palms outward, and proclaimed, “So it is said, so it must be done.”
The funeral procession reached the Briw estuary at sunset. Led by Dafyd and Hafgan walking side by side, the small boat was lashed to poles and borne on the shoulders of the Cymry. Inside the boat lay Taliesin’s body, having been washed and prepared for its final journey, his clothing changed and hair combed and bound. Charis, Avallach, Elphin and Rhonwyn, Rhuna and Merlin rode behind, with Maelwys and Salach and the rest of the Cymry following. The scattered gray clouds were gilt-edged in the red-gold light and larksong filled the sky.
Upon reaching the river mouth the boat was lowered into shallow water, and one by one Taliesin’s Belongings and grave gifts were placed in the boat around him: across his chest Rhonwyn lay the sealskin bag in which he had been found; at his feet Elphin placed Taliesin’s saddle, in memory of the boy who had longed to ride the Wall with his father; Hafgan took the bard’s staff of oak and placed it under his left hand; Dafyd brought out a carven wooden cross which he and Col-len placed under Taliesin’s right hand; Maelwys and Salach put the prince’s silver tore around his neck; Avallach spread Taliesin’s cloak over him and then covered it with a blanket of fine fur; producing a new-made spear with a head of bright iron and a shaft of ash, Cuall stepped to the boat and lashed the spear to the bow.
Lastly, Charis placed Taliesin’s harp beside him so that the wind might play upon its strings. She bent to kiss him farewell, and then the boat was turned toward Mor Hafren. Four Cymry on each side pushed the vessel further out into the estuary where it could be taken by the outgoing tide. Charis called for Rhuna, who brought Merlin and placed him in his mother’s arms.
Standing in the water, bright with the blood-red fire of the setting sun, Charis held the child Merlin before her so he could see the boat ride the current out of the river mouth and into the deep channel beyond. The boat turned around once, found the seatide’s pull, and was drawn out into deeper water. The tideflow pulled the boat along the hillside cliffs and mudflats toward the western sea where it would be carried along by the waves to its unknown destination.
Dafyd walked to a rocky rise and stood with his hands raised in benediction and prayed aloud while the Cymry, some in the water and some standing on the hillside, sang a song of parting, in this way sending their kinsman and friend to his rest.
Thus, in the time between times, with the water bright like a glowing ember and Celtic song falling like melodic rain from a fireshot sky, Taliesin set off on his last journey.
We watched, the prayer and song continuing until the boat was lost on the horizon and it became too dark to see. Then we remounted the horses and started back, the new moon lighting our way. I paused on a high hilltop above the water to look over the great silver sweep of Mor Hafren, al) flecked and glimmering in the moonlight like a jewel -encrusted blade.
Farewell, Taliesin! Farewell, my soul.
When I turned my horse to the track, the Cymry began to sing again. And I heard Taliesin ‘s voice among them just the way it would have sounded, high and fine and strong. I sang too and my heart felt lighter.
That night, impossibly bright and clear, the night air soft as silk, the tall grasses ringing with cricket song and the trees soughing in the breeze, the stars wheeling through wide heaven and the moon swinging along its course, I rode, cradling my baby to my breast, aware- as I was aware of all else- of an enormous calming peace that enfolded and surrounded me, a love deep and undisturbed… and ever present.
It was there in the humble gift of jade from an unknown friend; it was there in the arena with me the day the Sun Bull should have taken my lite; and this love was there in the merlin, at once a parable and gentle reproof for my lack of trust.
This peace has always been with me had I but known it.
I knew it then, and my heart quickened within me. Love was truly awakened on that moonbright night as we returned to Ynys Witrin on wings of song.
It was several days later that I realized Morgian and Annubi were missing. I did not remember seeing them at all since my return, and when I asked my father he nodded and said,
“Yes, it is strange. But they left in the night-one day before you came home.”
“The night Taliesin was killed,” I said, and a chill touched my bones.
“So it must have been. It is very strange. They said nothing; there was no word of farewell.”
“Father,” I said, my voice shaking, “did you send the feather? The raven’s feather?”
“A raven’s feather? Why?”
“The man who brought it-the traveler-said it was from you. He gave me a black feather as your message to me. I thought it odd, but Taliesin said it was your way of telling me that you wished me home.”
Avallach shook his head gravely. “I sent word by one of our own the very day your message came. There was no traveler, Charis. And no feather.”
So Morgian is gone and Annubi with her. I wonder at the hate that conceived such a plan, and I wonder at the power behind it. And I wonder if the arrow that took Taliesin was meant for me.
Oh, Morgian, what have you done? Was your life such misery and love so elusive that you turned against both?
Hear me, Morgian: I have walked the path you have chosen. I have known the darkness and despair of living death, and I have known the joy of rebirth into light. I will not join you on that path, Morgian; I will not go down that way again.
Dafyd’s shrine is finished and he teaches there now. I go to listen and to pray. I always feel that Taliesin is nearer to me there than anywhere else.
And it is often that I remember him telling me, “I will never leave you, Charis,” and I know he never will. He is with me now and forever, and as long as I live I will love him and he will live in my love. What is more, I am certain we will be together again one day.
Until that time, I am content: I have a son to raise-a son who many, including Hafgan and Blaise, Believe will be greater than his father.
As to that, I know nothing. Rumors flourish like weeds when a great man dies. I do not deny Taliesin’s rarity among men-and many’s the night that I wonder who and what he was. But this I know as I know my own reflection: in him God found fuel for the spark he puts in all men. Taliesin was a man fully awake and alive; he burned with the vision of a world he meant to create.
That vision must not die.
I, Charis, Princess of Lost Atlantis, Lady of the Lake, will keep the vision alive.