Wonderingly, Arthur took the scarf and wrapped it around his throat. “It’s perfect. So soft and warm. Please tell her . . .” Arthur paused, for his voice was in danger of breaking. “Please tell her that I am most grateful. And please tell her that I love her.”
“I will.”
“Will you come back? Will she come to see me?”
“I won’t be back. And she can’t come. Gwydion says it’s too dangerous.”
“Gwydion,” Arthur spat, leaping up from the rocks. “I hate him! I hate him! He took me away. He wants to use me. He doesn’t care what I want.”
“Arthur, Gwydion is my brother. I love and trust him.”
“Well I don’t.”
“Yes,” Uthyr said dryly. “I can see that.”
Slowly, Arthur sat down again. “I’m—I’m sorry I upset you.”
“You’d be surprised how many people feel that way about Gwydion,” Uthyr said mildly. “I wish I had a gold coin for every time someone told me that. I’d be a rich man.”
“Then why do you defend him? Why do you trust him?”
“Because I know him. Not many people do. They think they do, but they don’t. It’s funny, but you remind me of him, a little.”
“Me?” Arthur was clearly appalled.
“Oh, yes. If he had his way he’s stay in the mountains, too. He loves the solitude. But he can’t do that, because he’s the Dreamer. And he dreams things that make his blood run cold. He didn’t want to be the Dreamer, didn’t want the burden. But he had to be. It’s what he was born for, after all.”
The night was quiet and cold, and neither said anything for an extended period. “You—you aren’t disappointed in me, are you?” Arthur asked anxiously.
“No! Never. You must never, ever think otherwise. Come, I’m sure our dinner’s ready by now.”
As the two walked down the hillside and neared the tiny house, Arthur asked, “But if I don’t become High King, if I refuse, will you still love me?”
Uthyr stopped and turned to face his son. “I will love you until the day I die, and beyond. Whether you are a High King or a shepherd, I will love you forever. Just remember that I only ever asked one thing of you. When the time comes for your final choice weigh the price carefully. There is a price for broken wings.”
Chapter Ten
Caer Duir and Neuadd Gorsedd, Gwytheryn, & Dinas Emrys, Kingdom of Gwynedd, Kymru Bedwen Mis, 494
Addiendydd, Tywyllu, Wythnos—late afternoon
As Gwydion approached Caer Duir, the college of the Druids, he heaved a sigh of relief. He had been almost nine days on the road from Dinas Emrys, and he was weary.
The three-story, round keep of black stone reared up before him as he dismounted his horse at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at the golden doors, bathed in the light of the late afternoon sun. On the left door, etched in emeralds was the sign for the oak tree, the tree most revered by the Druids. On the right door, outlined in emeralds, was the constellation of Modron the Mother.
To the west was a tall, slim observation tower that was used by the Druids to study the stars. A man exited the tower and walked swiftly toward Gwydion. The figure became recognizable as he neared.
Gwydion’s cousin Aergol, Dinaswyn’s son, had dark hair, clasped at the nape of his neck with a band of emeralds and gold. He was dressed in a brown robe trimmed with green. His dark eyes, as always, were opaque, not giving a hint as to what he was really thinking. Aergol was only a year younger than Gwydion, and the two of them had both lived in Caer Dathyl until Gwydion was sent off to school. Yet, for all that, Gwydion could not really say that he knew Aergol very well. For Aergol had in full measure his mother’s reserve. His father’s too, for King Custennin of Ederynion had been a somewhat cool and detached man.
“Welcome, Dreamer,” Aergol said formally when he was near enough.
Gwydion nodded. “Aergol,” he said, pleasantly enough. “How is Sinend?”
Gwydion’s inquiry of Aergol’s daughter and heir brought a spark of warmth to Aergol’s demeanor. “She is quite well, Gwydion. I thank you for asking.”
“And Menw?” Gwydion pressed on. Aergol’s son by one of his fellow Druids was just a few years younger than his half sister, Sinend, and was reputed to be a fine boy.
“Very well,” Aergol said with a smile. “Come, you must be weary. You have come, I assume, to see Cathbad?”
“I am and I have,” Gwydion said as he handed the reins of his horse to the apprentice that had come over at Aergol’s gesture. He followed Aergol up the steps and through the doors. Aergol turned right and began to ascend the stairs to the second level. At the top of the stairs he turned right again and led Gwydion to a small, pleasant room.