Night Birds' Reign(89)

“I’ll help you, Da,” fifteen-year-old Rhiwallon called out and the match was on. Elphin and Owein fought against Urien and Rhiwallon. The fight was over in the blink of an eye. For Owein instantly flipped young Rhiwallon onto his back just as Urien did the same to Elphin. Urien and Owein glanced at each other, and burst out laughing.

“No fair, no fair,” thirteen-year-old Enid shouted as she ran into the room. She stopped in front of her father and brothers and put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t wait for me.” Enid had her mother’s red-gold hair and blue eyes.

And then Queen Ellirri entered the room. She was a tall, slender woman. Her heart-shaped face was framed with a cloud of reddish gold hair and her eyes were sharp sapphire blue. She was dressed in a cream-colored gown, with an underskirt of rich, deep red. A necklace of opals encircled her slender neck, and her hair was braided into a crown at the top of her head. Opals were scattered throughout her hair.

“No fighting now, Enid. You’ve just gotten dressed up,” she said, her voice calm and cool. “And you boys—you are supposed to be dressed up by now, too. Festival tonight, remember?”

Reluctantly the boys straggled to their feet. Ellirri smiled at them and the three smiled back. “Very handsome, all of you. But your manners,” she shook her head.

“What’s wrong with our manners, Mam?” Elphin asked.

“Well for starters you are ignoring your guest,” she said, nodding to Gwydion who still stood in the doorway.

“Gwydion!” Urien roared, coming to his feet. “How are you, man?” he asked, giving Gwydion a hearty slap on the back that nearly felled him.

Gwydion straightened up and noticed that four pairs of awestruck eyes were staring at him. “The Dreamer,” Owein breathed. “You are welcome here,” he continued, bowing. He poked Elphin in the ribs. Elphin started, and then he too bowed. Rhiwallon also bowed and Enid, at a pinch from Owein, overcame her momentary paralysis and curtsied.

“All right, everyone. Boys, go get changed. Enid, dear, please go see the steward and tell her to set another place at the high table.” The children scattered to do Ellirri’s bidding. “Trystan,” she continued, “thank you for bringing Gwydion here.” Trystan, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one, grinned and promptly left.

“You should change too, Urien, dear. I’ll take Gwydion to our rooms. Join us as soon as you can, won’t you?”

Urien smiled at his lovely wife and kissed her hand. “Your wish is my command, as always.”

Ellirri smiled and softly patted his rough cheek. Then she turned to Gwydion. Delicately she put her hand on his arm. “You are welcome, here, Gwydion. Come.”

He followed her across the hall to her room. The chamber was bright and cheerful. The furniture—wardrobes, chairs, and tables—was carved from light oak wood. Her huge, canopied bed was covered with a taupe-colored spread, worked in gold thread. The floor was covered here and there with small rugs, woven in red and cream. Golden vases that held masses of bright, red roses were scattered throughout the room.

She gestured Gwydion into a chair before the hearth. She sat on a chair next to him, and turned her fine, blue eyes upon him, smiling warmly. “Tell me all the news, Gwydion. How is Uthyr?” The two had been very close growing up. She had been far closer to her half brother, Uthyr, than to her full brother, Madoc.

“I haven’t seen much of him lately. I don’t get to Tegeingl at all any more.”

“I hope there’s no trouble between you two.”

“No trouble. But I am not very welcome at Uthyr’s court just the same.”

“Ah, yes, Ygraine. Charming as always, I’m sure,” Ellirri said, smiling.

Gwydion smiled back. “Indeed. But last I saw Uthyr he was well.” He didn’t mention, of course, that the last time he saw his brother he had been disguised as a scruffy man-at-arms.

“I’m glad he is well. I hope he is happy,” she said doubtfully. “I doubt he has ever gotten over Arthur’s death. Now, Gwydion, my dear, I am so glad to see you, but why have you come?”

“What makes you think I have a special reason?” Gwydion asked.

“My dear Gwydion, you never, ever do anything without two or more motives up your sleeve. You forget, I’ve known you a long time.”

Urien entered the room, sparing Gwydion a reply. He was dressed in a red tunic and breeches, with a beige-colored undershirt. He wore the Ruler’s Torque of gold, studded with opals, around his thick neck. An opal ring glittered from his right hand and a large opal dangled from his right ear. His short brown hair was freshly combed and his ruddy face glowed.