They lapsed into silence as they passed Bryn Celli Ddu, the burial place of the Rulers of Gwynedd. The standing stones that marked the entrance to the barrows stood gray and silent, sentinels to another world. The only sound was of the horses’ hooves striking the cobblestones as they rode by.
And then they were at the walls of Caer Gwynt, the House of Winds, the fortress of the Rulers of Gwynedd. Torches burned on either side of the gate. The proud Hawk of Gwynedd, outlined in sapphires on the silver-plated doors, stretched his wings into the night.
“Ho, there,” Amatheon called. The gate slowly opened, and a young man with golden hair and a sharp, intelligent face stepped out.
“Welcome, travelers,” the young man said, bowing. “King Uthyr ap Rathtyen var Awst welcomes the Dreamer of Kymru, Gwydion ap Awst var Celemon, the great Dreamer of Mabon the Bright.”
“How did you know I was the Dreamer now?” Gwydion asked curiously.
“Oh, Dinaswyn Wind-Spoke to Susanna a few days ago—she’s our new Bard here, by the way,” the young man said casually. “But you’re interrupting my speech,” Duach went on in a reproving tone.
“Oh. Sorry.”
With a flourish, Duach continued, “And welcome also to Amatheon ap Awst, one of the Dewin of the House of Llyr, beloved of Nantsovelta, White Lady of the Moon.”
“Nice, Duach,” Amatheon said admiringly. “Very nice.”
The young man grinned. “You like it?”
“Very much. You the doorkeeper now?”
“Just appointed last month,” he said proudly. “Come in.”
The two men dismounted as grooms came out to lead their horses to the stables that rested just inside the gate. Dogs from the kennel on their right began to bark as Gwydion and Amatheon followed Duach across the well-lit courtyard.
They passed a long, low, wooden building that housed the King’s warriors. No lights shone now in the windows, for they were all at dinner in the hall. As they passed the King and Queen’s ystafell they noticed that a light was glowing from a window in the second story of the polished wooden walls. “The Queen?” Gwydion asked.
“She’s not feeling well enough to leave her chambers.”
“I imagine not,” Gwydion said dryly. “It should be within the next few days.”
“That’s what Cynan says,” Duach replied. “But Griffi’s holding out for the end of the week. They’ve got a bet.”
“Who’s Griffi?”
“New Druid. Just came about two months ago to replace Cathbad, now that he’s the Archdruid’s heir.”
“I hear the Archdruid is very ill,” Gwydion said, “and not expected to last much longer.”
“No doubt,” Duach said. “I think he’s only holding on long enough to train Cathbad. After all, no one expected the tragedy and Cathbad doesn’t have the training an heir would normally have.”
“What do you think of Griffi?” Amatheon asked.
“Good man,” Duach replied. “Of course we’ll miss Cathbad.”
“We’ll all miss Cathbad,” Gwydion said, for the Druid was a good friend. “I am glad that he will be Archdruid, but sorry for his brother’s sudden death. Dorath was a good man, and would have made a good Archdruid.”
“Cathbad was very broken up about it,” Duach said. “He said that a man never had a better brother than Dorath.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Amatheon said, with an air of exaggerated innocence. “I think Gwydion has just about the best brother anyone could ever wish for in the whole wide world.”
“Yes,” Gwydion said blandly. “There’s no better brother than Uthyr.”
“Ha, ha,” Amatheon said flatly.
“Oh, do you two want a bath first or do you want to go to the hall?” Duach asked.
“You saying I need a bath?” growled Amatheon.
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt,” Duach grinned.
“We’ll go to the hall first,” Gwydion replied, for he was eager to see Uthyr.
As Duach opened the doors to the Great Hall, bright lights and cheerful noise spilled out. The hall was filled with people, some sitting at the long tables, some standing in front of the roaring hearth fire, some dicing in the far corners. Most of the people were the men and women of the King’s teulu, dressed in the brown breeches and blue tunics of Gwynedd’s warriors. They had bright daggers at their belts and brown leather boots to the knee laced with strips of blue cloth.
Bright banners of silk hung on the walls. The banner over the east wall showed the Battle of Naid Ronwen, when Queen Gwynledyr put to death the treacherous Coranian husband who had tried to steal her throne.