“Would you like to?” Arthur asked Uthyr, a little uncertainly, dashing his sleeve across his eyes.
“Oh, yes. You must show me everything, tell me everything of how you live.” Uthyr said, smiling through his own tears.
Arthur smiled back and took Uthyr’s hand. “We’ll be back for supper,” he called over his shoulder, pulling Uthyr out of the back door.
After they were gone, Myrrdin turned to Gwydion. His face was drawn with both sadness and joy. “Will you be able to bring Uthyr back here again?”
Gwydion shook his head. “No. It was risky enough as it was.”
“So, what have you been doing for the past eight years?” Myrrdin asked.
“Sitting,” Gwydion replied shortly. “Sitting in Caer Dathyl, refusing to go anywhere near this place. Once a year I attend the graduation ceremonies, and that is all.”
“Still being watched, eh?”
“Not so closely, I believe. I sent Dinaswyn off to Tegeingl last month with a letter for Uthyr, telling him when and where to meet me. Then Arianrod and I had some problems, and she left in a huff. When the time came to meet Uthyr, I slipped out of Caer Dathyl in the dead of the night, appropriately blurring my image. Nobody saw.”
“But if someone’s watching Caer Dathyl they’ll know you’re not there.”
“No,” Gwydion shook his head. “The steward has orders to light my rooms every night. They’ll think I’m still there. And with both Dinaswyn and Arianrod leaving, they might have chosen to follow their movements, just in case.”
“How did Uthyr get away without being followed?”
“He said he was going on a hunting expedition with Cai. They left Tegeingl alone and made sure they weren’t followed. Cai’s waiting for Uthyr in Coed Dulas and, hopefully, hunting up a storm.”
“How long can you stay here?”
“For tonight only. Then I must go. Uthyr will meet up with Cai and return to Tegeingl loaded with the spoils of the hunt.”
“Well,” said Myrrdin brightly, “How about that new pot? I need to make dinner. You had best take care of the horse.”
Gwydion led his horse to the small stable. There was no sign of Arthur and Uthyr. He hurriedly curried and watered his horse, anxious to return to the house for a long talk with his uncle. But Elise was in a bad mood, sliding out from under the brush, stepping on Gwydion’s foot once or twice, dribbling water onto Gwydion’s sleeve. Elise did not like to be left alone in the stable, with no one to talk to.
“Try talking to the sheep,” Gwydion advised. But sheep, it seemed, were too stupid for decent conversations. “Next time I’ll tell Myrrdin to get a horse for you to play with,” Gwydion said sarcastically. Offended, Elise ignored him and began chewing nonchalantly on the hay. Gwydion shrugged and opened the pack to produce a new cast iron pot for Myrrdin. When he returned to the house he said, “It’s a real bargain. As far as Uthyr’s concerned you can keep it as long as I’m not the one who does the cooking.”
“Well, make yourself useful and cut up some bread and cheese,” Myrrdin said, gesturing to the two brown loaves and the wheel of creamy cheese on the table. As Gwydion began to slice, Myrrdin filled the pot with water and began to toss in various vegetables and herbs.
“Tell me about Arthur,” Gwydion said as they worked.
“He’s a good lad. Smart. Works hard. Takes good care of me.”
“Any problems?”
“Everyone’s got problems.”
“You’re hedging. Out with it.”
“Well,” Myrrdin said thoughtfully, “he’s shy.”
“Shy? Bursting in on the crowd like that, ready to defend you against all comers?”
“Cowardice and shyness are two different things. He thought I was in danger.”
“Can’t you fix that? What are people going to think of a High King who’s shy?”
“It’s more complicated than that, Gwydion. He’s shy because he prefers not to let others get to know him, or to get close to others. And that’s because he thinks it will be less painful for him when they are taken away from him. It’s what happened with his mother and father. They were taken away.”
Gwydion said nothing, but he began to slice the bread savagely. “I didn’t have a choice,” he muttered.
“I didn’t say you did,” Myrrdin went on serenely. “But you can’t separate a boy from his parents at such a young age and not expect an effect of some kind.”
“Such as?”
“Well, he doesn’t trust many people.”
Gwydion sighed. “All right. What else?”