"Stop it, Iolo. Be a good boy. Nerys, take his hand," Mrs. Lloyd implored her oldest child.
"Mam! Mam! Mam!" wailed Iolo, kicking his sister away.
"Mam can't come, don't be silly, Iolo! Alun, help Nerys. Hold his other hand."
Alun obeyed. Avoiding the vicious thrusts of his youngest brother's boot, he seized Iolo's hand and swung him off his feet. Then he began to run down the lane, the little boy still clinging to his neck and shrieking like a demon. The other Lloyds, thinking this great sport for the morning, followed close behind, whooping and yelling.
Gwyn envied them the noise, the arguments, even the crying. He came upon a similar scene every morning, and it never failed to make him feel separate and alone. Sometimes he would hang behind just watching, reluctant to intrude.
Today, however, Gwyn had something to announce. Today he did not feel alone. Different, yes, but not awkward and excluded.
"Alun! Alun!" he shouted. "I've got news for you."
Alun swung around, lowering Iolo to the ground. The other Lloyds looked up as Gwyn came flying down the lane.
"Go on," said Alun. "What news?"
"I'm a magician," cried Gwyn. "A magician." And he ran past them, his arms outstretched triumphantly, his satchel banging on his back.
"A magician," scoffed Alun. "You're mad, Gwyn Griffiths, that's what you are." Forgetting his duty, he left Iolo on the lane and gave furious chase.
"Mad! Mad!" echoed Sion and Gareth, following Alun's example.
"Mad! Mad!" cried Iolo excitedly, as he raced down the lane, away from his mother and his tears.
Soon there were four boys tearing neck and neck down the lane, and one not far behind. All were shouting, "Mad! Mad! Mad!" except for Gwyn, and he was laughing too much to say anything.
But the three girls, Nerys, Nia, and Kate, always impressed by their dark neighbor, stood quite still and murmured, "A magician?"
Chapter 4
THE SILVER SHIP
Nain had warned him that he would be alone, but Gwyn had not realized what that would mean. After all, he had felt himself to be alone ever since Bethan disappeared. But there had always been Alun to share a book or a game, to lend a sympathetic ear to confidences, to wander with on the mountain or in the woods.
And for Alun the need had also been great. Gwyn was the one with an empty house and a quiet space to think and play in. Gwyn was the clever one, the one to help with homework. It was Gwyn who had taught Alun to read. On winter evenings the two boys were seldom apart.
Gwyn had never imagined a time without Alun's friendship, and perhaps, if he had kept silent, that time would never have come. But it never occurred to Gwyn that Alun would find it impossible to believe him. He felt that he only had to find the right words to convince his friend. So on the homeward journey that same afternoon, he again brought up the subject of magicians.
Iolo always raced ahead when they got off the school bus, but the older children were not so eager to run uphill. They lingered on the lane, Sion and Gareth arguing, the girls collecting wildflowers or colored leaves. Alun and Gwyn always brought up the rear.
"Have you heard of Math, Lord of Gwynedd?" Gwyn began innocently.
"Of course. He's in the old Welsh stories. Dad talks about them," Alun replied.
"And Gwydion?"
"Yes, and how he made a ship from seaweed." Alun's interest had been aroused.
"I'd forgotten. Dad never talks. But Nain reminded me. She's got more books than I've seen anywhere, except in the library."
"Your Nain's a bit batty isn't she?" Alun had always been a little suspicious of Gwyn's grandmother.
"No! She's not batty! She knows a lot," Gwyn replied. "She knew about me, about my being a magician!"
"Now I know she's batty! And you are too," Alun said good-naturedly.
Gwyn stopped quite still. His words came slow and quiet, not at all in the way he had intended. "I'm not mad. Things happened last night. I think I made them happen… I wasn't dreaming. I saw my sister, or someone like my sister. Nain said Math and Gwydion were my ancestors. . and that I have inherited. ." He could not finish because Alun had begun to laugh.
"They're in stories. They're not real people. You can't be descended from a story!"
"You don't know. I can make the wind come. I saw another planet last night, very close. It was white and the buildings were white, and there was a tower with a silver bell." Gwyn was desperate to explain. "There were children. And this is the most fantastic part — I could hear them in a pipe that came from—"
"You're crazy! You're lying!" Alun cried bitterly. "Why are you lying? No one can see planets that close. They're millions and millions and millions of miles away!" He fled from Gwyn yelling, "Liar! Liar! Liar!"
"How d'you know, Alun Lloyd?" Gwyn called relentlessly. "You don't know anything, you don't. You're ignorant! I know what I know. And I know what I've seen!"
He had gone too far. Gwyn realized that even before Alun sprang through his gate and followed his brothers up the path to the house, slamming the door behind him to emphasize his distaste for Gwyn's conversation.
Gwyn was alone on the lane with Nerys, Nia, and Kate. The three girls had lost interest in their flowers and were staring at Gwyn in dismay. He could not bring himself to speak, so he passed by in an awkward silence.
Half a mile further on he reached his grandmother's cottage. Knowing she was the only person in the world who would believe him, he unceremoniously burst in upon her. He was astonished at what he saw.
Nain had sewn up the red velvet dress. She was wearing it, standing in the center of her room like some exotic bird, surrounded by her flowering plants and gaudy paraphernalia. She had something shining on her forehead, huge rings on her fingers, and round her waist, a wide bronze chain.
"Nain!" said Gwyn, amazed. "Where are you going?"
"I'm staying here," his grandmother replied. "This is my castle. I have to defend it."
She was talking in riddles again. Gwyn decided to come straight to the point. "Nain, I got something else from the wind last night. A silver pipe. And there were voices in it, from far away."
"Ah," said Nain. "Even when men whispered, Math could hear them. He could hear voices beyond any mortal ear! The pipe is from him!"
"And something happened," Gwyn went on, "in Arianwen's web!"
His grandmother began to move about her room, but Gwyn knew she was listening to his story. When he mentioned the girl in the web, she stopped in front of a huge gilt-framed mirror at the back of the room and said softly, "Gwydion Gwyn, you will soon have your heart's desire!"
"My heart's desire?" repeated Gwyn. "I believe I am a magician, but I'm not strong yet. I don't know if these things are happening to me because I have the power, or if they would have happened to anyone."
"You've forgotten the legends, haven't you, poor boy?" said Nain. "I used to read them to you long ago, but your father stopped all that when Bethan went. He stopped all the fun, all the joy. But he couldn't stop you, could he? Because you are who you are. Now I'll read you something."
In spite of the multitude of books scattered about the room, his grandmother always knew exactly where to find the one she needed. From beneath a blue china dog that supported a lopsided lampshade, she withdrew a huge black book, its leather cover scarred with age.
"The legends," she purred, stroking the battered spine. It looked so awesome and so old Gwyn half expected a cloud of bats to fly out when his grandmother opened it.
She furled the train of her velvet dress around her legs, settled herself on a pile of cushions, and beckoned to him.
Gwyn peered at the book over his grandmother's shoulder. "It's in old Welsh," he complained. "I can't understand it."