Rhoram turned to face the crowd. “This is my honored guest, Gwydion ap Awst, who has come to visit his old friend.” Rhoram grinned, “He’s the Dreamer, so get out of his way, or he’ll have a dream about you!” The crowd began catcalling bets as to which unfortunate would be the first to figure in Gwydion’s ominous dreams.
“Gwydion, do you remember my son?” Rhoram stretched out his hand and motioned Geriant to his side. The young man smiled and bowed his head slightly.
“I remember, you,” Gwydion said smiling, “but not as being quite so tall!”
Geriant grinned. “It’s been a while then!”
“It has indeed.” He turned to Rhoram. “He makes me feel so old.”
“We are old, Gwydion,” Rhoram said quietly.
“Come on, Rhoram,” Achren said sharply. “Efa’s ready to scream. Time to eat.”
“Efa’s always ready to scream,” Rhoram muttered, but he followed Achren though the crowd toward the dais motioning for Gwydion to follow.
As they neared the fireplace, Rhoram stretched out his hand and a beautiful young girl came running to him. She clasped his hand and kissed his cheek lightly. “Gwydion, you remember my daughter, Sanon.” Like her father and brother, Sanon had golden hair. But her eyes were dark. She looked to be about fourteen years old. “This is Gwydion ap Awst, my dear, the Dreamer,” Rhoram explained. “It’s been quite some time since you’ve seen him.”
Sanon’s eyes widened, their pleasant light replaced by a young girl’s instant infatuation as she took in his handsome face and air of authority. She blushed and curtsied slightly.
“Come, my treasure,” Rhoram said pretending he hadn’t noticed Sanon’s reaction. “It’s time to eat.” He motioned for Sanon to precede them. Rhoram kept pace next to Gwydion. Softly he said to Gwydion, keeping the smile plastered on his face, “Touch her and you’re dead.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gwydion said sincerely.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”
They reached the King’s table, now almost full as Rhoram’s chief officers took their places. “Efa, you remember Gwydion ap Awst,” Rhoram said in a neutral tone.
The Queen smiled brilliantly. “Indeed I do remember you, Gwydion. It’s been years. How is Cariadas?”
“Perfect,” Gwydion answered smiling.
“Yes. I’m sure Cariadas is as charming as her mother,” she said. Gwydion remembered that Efa and Isalyn had disliked each other intensely. She went on, “Of course you remember my brother, Erfin.”
“Can’t say as I do,” Gwydion said smoothly. “Was he here when I was?” Actually, Gwydion remembered Erfin quite well—well enough to want to irk him.
Like his sister, Erfin had fiery red hair, and his eyes were brown. But while Efa’s eyes were large and beautiful, Erfin’s were small, almost shifty. Erfin forced himself to smile and nod pleasantly, but he was indeed annoyed, as Gwydion had intended.
Rhoram, smothering a smile, motioned for Gwydion to take a seat to his left, while Dafydd Penfro, Rhoram’s counselor, sat on Gwydion’s other side.
“Gwydion,” Dafydd exclaimed. “It’s good to see you, man.” Dafydd Penfro was shrewd, highly intelligent, and devoted to the Rulers of Prydyn. He had been Gwydion’s friend during that terrible time when he had stayed in Arberth against his will. Gwydion smiled with genuine pleasure. “Good to see you, too, Dafydd!”
“But not good to be back here, is it?” Dafydd’s eyes were keen as he sat down.
“No,” Gwydion said shortly. “Not good at all.”
“Well, now, Tallwch and I will take good care of you. See if we don’t.”
At the end of the table, Ellywen, Rhoram’s Druid, sat in cool, self-imposed isolation. She nodded distantly to Gwydion when she saw him staring at her. Achren, who sat a few places over, was laughing with Geriant, but her eyes were wary. Sanon was stealing glances at Gwydion whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.
Up and down the hall people were taking their places at the tables. When the hall was relatively quiet, Ellywen stood up and solemnly intoned the evening prayer.
The peace of lights,
The peace of joys,
The peace of souls,
Be with you.
“Awen,” the people responded in unison, momentarily subdued. Ellywen had a delightful way of making a blessing sound like a curse.
Servants began to bring in heaping platters from the kitchen. Steaming potatoes, still in their jackets, slabs of venison flavored with sage, great wheels of rich yellow cheese, and crusty loaves of bread were brought to their table. Gwydion loaded his plate, for he had been on the road a long time.