But the next morning they had awakened to find that the Great Ones were gone. For Bran had freed them, fueling Gwydion’s suspicions that there was more than one way into Cadair Idris. Worse still for Bloudewedd and Gorwys, they discovered that the Four Treasures were missing also. These Four Treasures—the Spear of Fire, the Stone of Water, the Sword of Air, and the Cauldron of Earth—were the implements needed to make a new High King, and their loss was a blow to Gorwys.
The four Great Ones each went to rouse the four kingdoms. Arywen went to Queen Siwan of Prydyn. The Queen was more than willing to march on Cadair Idris, for Gorwys was her husband, and Bloudewedd was her own sister. Taliesin went to Gwynedd and enlisted the aid of King Meilir. He, too, was eager to avenge Lleu, for his Queen was Lleu’s younger sister. Mannawyddan went to Ederynion and returned with King Llywelyn. And Bran went to Rheged where it was easy to convince King Peredur, Arywen’s longtime lover, to lend his aid. At the appointed time these Great Ones returned to Gwytheryn at the head of an army.
Gorwys, knowing they could not win, nonetheless marched with his tiny following from Cadair Idris to meet them on the plains of Gwytheryn. After a battle that lasted mere moments, Gorwys was captured. Bloudewedd opened the Doors of Cadair Idris and flew to stand with her lover.
The two were brought before the four Rulers, and the four Great Ones. There, Bran pronounced their doom. Bloudewedd was not to be allowed to die. Her spirit was to be infused in the Doors of Cadair Idris, thus allowing the previous spirit, that of Gilveathy the Traitor, to be released. Gorwys, too, was not to be allowed to go to the Land of Summer. Instead, Bran set his spirit to guard the shores of Kymru, charging him to rise and ride the length and breadth of Kymru to warn the Kymri should danger approach.
King Llywelyn alone dared to protest such measures, saying that death was punishment enough without binding the spirit beyond death. But Bran answered quite gently that he had promised Lleu he would not kill the High King’s murderers. He had smiled softly when he said it, but even Llywelyn did not dare to question Bran’s decision further.
The Rulers then asked Bran the location of the Treasures. Surely, they said, they could now be returned to Cadair Idris. But the four Great Ones shook their heads, saying only that the Treasures were safer where they were. And Bran proclaimed that the Doors to Cadair Idris were to remain closed and none would be allowed to enter there unless they came with the Four Treasures in their hands.
The four Great Ones then took Lleu’s Torque that Gorwys had worn and removed the pearl, the sapphire, the emerald and the opal. They had the Master Smith make rings for each jewel and gave them to the Rulers as thanks for their support. The pearl went to King Llywelyn and the sapphire to King Meilir. The emerald was given to Queen Siwan and the opal to King Peredur.
And in all that information there was not one clue to the location of the sword.
Gwydion had even traced Bran’s later years, hoping to find something. Ten years afterward, Bran’s mistress Princess Regan of Ederynion and their son were involved in a plot to murder King Llywelyn. Bran was forced to sentence the two to their deaths. Taliesin, Arywen, and Mannawyddan all died before Bran. In every case Bran visited them on their deathbeds. He insisted on being left alone with each of them just moments before the end. When Bran died in Caer Dathyl his daughter, Dremas, at his insistence, was left alone with him just before he died. But what was said or done in those last few moments remained a mystery.
Yes, Gwydion was an authority on Bran. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to get him any closer to the information he was seeking.
Gwydion sighed as he sipped his wine. If only he wasn’t cut off from the ones he loved. If only he could see Uthyr, talk to Myrrdin, be with Amatheon, spend time with Cariadas, his loneliness would not be so hard to bear.
But he could do none of those things. Not now.
He had seen his older brother rarely in the last eight years since taking Arthur away. Ygraine, still so bitter, would never even acknowledge Gwydion’s presence in the few times he had journeyed to her court. Her cold, midnight eyes would look right through him, as though he was beneath her notice. She never even allowed him to speak to her daughter, Morrigan.
Like her mother, Morrigan had dark eyes and auburn hair. Her tiny features were a pitch-perfect replica of Ygraine. But the warmth in her eyes, her ready smile—these things she had inherited from her father. In those times when Gwydion had allowed himself to go to Tegeingl, he had watched Morrigan watching him in fascination, torn between her father’s love for Gwydion and her mother’s hatred, contenting herself with an occasional shy smile when she thought her mother wasn’t looking.