Night Birds' Reign(10)

“Madoc,” Gwydion murmured. “That popinjay! What’s he doing here?”

“Why he’s here for the birth.”

“He hoping for a still born?” Gwydion asked, bitterly.

Uthyr froze and turned slowly toward his brother, his eyes wide with shock. “Is that what you have dreamed? Is there something wrong with the child?”

“Oh, Uthyr, no. No.” Gwydion put his hand on his brother’s arm, gripping it hard. “It’s just, it’s only . . .”

“It’s only that you hate Madoc? He’s my half brother, Gwydion. The same as you and Amatheon are. He is Lord in Rhufonoig and serves me faithfully. You will treat him politely. Come, do as I bid you.”

Gwydion raised one eyebrow, his mouth tightening.

“All right, Gwydion,” said Uthyr in an exasperated tone. “Do as I beg you, then. Greet him and try to be polite. His wife just gave birth to a daughter, and died doing so.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Gwydion said quietly. “Bri was a lovely woman. And she deserved better than the husband she got.”

“Most of them do,” Uthyr said dryly. Together, Uthyr and Gwydion approached Madoc, who had been watching them narrowly.

“Madoc,” said Gwydion, as he briefly inclined his head.

Madoc smiled even more widely, but his blue eyes were cold. “Gwydion. How very, very good to see you!” He nodded toward Uthyr. “Perhaps, Gwydion, you can calm him down. He’s as nervous as a cat about Ygraine. I keep telling him that nothing will go wrong. Women have babies every day.”

“I was sorry to hear about Bri,” Gwydion said quietly, his eyes never leaving Madoc’s face.

Madoc’s smile faded slightly. “Yes, poor Bri. I miss her sorely. But the child does well, so we must be thankful for that.”

“Hear anything from your father?” Gwydion asked casually.

Madoc’s eyes narrowed. “Not a thing. Just after the Queen died he went to Prydyn and stayed there for a little while with his nephew, King Rhoram. And then he was off. Wouldn’t say where he was going, just that he wanted to be left alone. Of course, my father’s bitterness isn’t really surprising. After all, he had just had final proof that his wife did not love him. A pity that she died of grief over the murder of your father. And such a murder! Dead at the hands of his own—”

“Madoc,” Uthyr cut in with a tone of steel. With one look at Gwydion’s white, set face, Uthyr took Gwydion’s arm and led him away from Madoc, who was smiling again, this time with a hint of satisfaction.

“Sit down,” said Uthyr, steering Gwydion to the chair next to his at the King’s table. Uthyr nodded to Griffi who raised up both hands and said, in a carrying tone, “Be seated, all.” The crowd took their places and the room began to quiet down. Griffi lifted his hands again and intoned.

The peace of lights,

The peace of joys,

The peace of souls,

Be with you.

“Awen. So let it be,” the crowd replied in unison.

“Just a few announcements,” Griffi began. “For those of you who have been inside a wine jug for the last week or so and don’t know what day it is—”

“He means you, Cai,” someone yelled. Amid the catcalls and laughter, Griffi grinned, and again raised his hands for (relative) silence.

“Tomorrow is Calan Llachar Eve. The hunt for the stag begins at noon. Since Ygraine’s not feeling up to leading it this year—”

“Can’t blame her for that,” a warrior called out.

Griffi continued, “She has appointed the Bard, Susanna ur Erim, to lead this year.”

“Go get him, Susanna!” someone called as she rose and bowed slightly to the crowd. “How about we call the stag ‘Griffi’? Then she’ll be sure to lead us to it.” Susanna, blushing bright red, abruptly sat down.

Griffi, his face an interesting shade of mauve, cleared his throat and valiantly continued. “On Calan Llachar itself, there will be a full eclipse of the sun beginning at midday. We’ll be running the race to choose the King of the Wood in the morning, so it shouldn’t interfere with that. We should be dancing around the tree by the time the sky begins to darken.”

As he sat down, the servers began to bring in heavy platters to each table. Gwydion speared a few slices of venison with his belt knife and laid them on his plate, passing the platter to Uthyr on his left. Preoccupied with his thoughts, he did not notice his other companions, but ate in silence.

Finally satiated, he took a deep breath and glanced up. Susanna was leaning forward slightly to talk to Griffi who sat opposite her. Uthyr had turned to say something to Madoc. He glanced across the table. Arday ur Medyr, Uthyr’s steward, sat directly across from him. At his glance, she smiled slowly. Her black hair had a blue sheen in the firelight. A green ribbon held her hair back from her face. Her arched black brows cut startlingly into her milky white skin. Her lips were full and her pointed chin emphasized the heart-like shape of her face. She was dressed in a forest green gown, the bodice tightly laced, clearly outlining her firm breasts.