“Then there are three more of these,” Angharad put in.
“With a chance for a headache for the rest of you,” Cai said, “at the other battlefields.”
“We can only hope, then, that when we have assembled the full circle it will mean something to us in terms of the location of the sword,” Amatheon said.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Gwydion said absently as he gently held the arc in his hands. “We’ll understand it, when the time comes.”
MEANWHILE, FAR AWAY to the northwest, a hawk circled the sky above the mountains of Eryi. The huge bird rode the winds, occasionally emitting a fierce cry.
And then the call came, and the hawk almost dropped to the ground with the sheer force of it.
It was time. Time to go south, to journey to the special place. He did not know who or what called him there. He did not yet know what he was to do there, once he reached it. But he knew he was born to do this, and so did not hesitate.
He circled the sky once, twice, three times. And then he flew south, the wind beneath his wings.
Chapter Eighteen
Ymris and Ynad Bran Kingdom of Ederynion, Kymru Collen Mis, 494
Addiendydd, Disglair Wythnos—early afternoon
Three days later they crossed the border into Ederynion and the following day they drew near to Ymris, the chief city in the cantref of Arystli.
And during those four days, Angharad and Gwydion had argued, and argued, then argued some more.
To the south loomed Coed Ddu, the Dark Forest, which stretched throughout most of the southern portion of cantref Arystli. Scarlet leaves of oak and rowan blazed in the distance, offset by evergreen firs and alders. Yellow birch and aspen dappled the forest with splashes of gold. Overhead the sky was clear, and there was a crisp breeze blowing that danced through the long, brown grasses of the plain that unfurled before them.
Angharad rode in front of the group with Gwydion the better to continue their “discussions.” Rhiannon and Amatheon rode behind them, with Cai, Trystan, and Achren bringing up the rear of the party.
Angharad clenched her teeth and reminded herself that to lose her temper would be counterproductive. But she was precariously close to doing it anyway.
For Gwydion still refused to go just a few leagues out of their way to Ymris itself, claiming that they did not have the time. But Angharad continued to insist that they go to the city and acknowledge the Lord of Arystli, Alun Cilcoed. Angharad continued to point out that Queen Olwen herself, if she knew, would demand it.
“It would be in insult to one of Olwen’s most important Lords,” Angharad said again, for what seemed like the hundredth time, “to come so near and not pay our respects.”
“We are not going out of our way to visit Alun Cilcoed of all people,” Gwydion said flatly. “I wonder,” he went on in an abstracted tone as he raised his eyes to the sky, “just how many times I am going to have to say that.”
“I told you, he’s nothing like his brother.”
“Llwyd Cilcoed is a toad,” Gwydion said, “and, no doubt, comes from a family of toads. When I was visiting Olwen, Llwyd was rude and overbearing.”
“Now who does that remind me of?” Rhiannon put in with exaggerated innocence. “Let me see . . .”
“Ha, ha,” Gwydion said tonelessly.
Rhiannon, Angharad knew, was on her side in this debate. Not because she thought visiting Alun Cilcoed was important, but because she never missed an opportunity to annoy Gwydion. Cai, Trystan, and Achren all sided with Gwydion, saying that Alun would not be insulted if he weren’t even aware that they were in the area.
And Amatheon—well, Amatheon did not join into the debate at all. Angharad knew full well why. He was interested in her. He teased Rhiannon and paid her extravagant compliments, but he watched Angharad almost all the time. Yet he was also loyal to his brother and to Gwydion’s wishes. So Amatheon kept his silence—unwilling to commit himself to either side in this ongoing debate.
“If anyone could tell me just what Olwen sees in that Llwyd Cilcoed I would be most grateful,” Gwydion went on.
But Angharad would not answer him, though she knew exactly why Olwen was attracted to Llwyd Cilcoed. She wondered why no one else seemed to understand. For Llwyd bore a resemblance to Kilwch, Olwen’s dead husband—the husband she had not valued until he was dead, the husband she had not known she loved until it was too late. Since he died Olwen looked for Kilwch in every man she saw, searching for a way to say how sorry she was. And she had found it in Llwyd Cilcoed.
This was something Angharad knew, but she would tell no one. For Olwen was both Angharad’s Queen and her friend, and Angharad would not speak of private matters to others. Besides, Gwydion was only trying to distract her from the matter at hand. And she would not be distracted. She opened her mouth for another try, when help came in a manner she had not expected.