“Nevertheless you shall stay here. Sabrina, I believe it is time to begin the festival.”
Sabrina nodded and rose. Her blue eyes glistened momentarily as she took in Esyllt’s flushed face, March’s relief, and Trystan’s disappointed scowl.
As the folk in the Great Hall began to file out behind Sabrina, Gwydion caught Ellirri’s arm. “What was that all about?” he whispered, nodding to Esyllt who was leaving arm in arm with her husband. Trystan followed closely behind, his face tight.
“Trystan needs to concentrate on protecting my sons, Gwydion,” Ellirri said sharply. “With Esyllt along he’d have eyes for no one but her.”
“I don’t get it. Why doesn’t she just divorce March? Trystan’s in love with her and she’s in love with him.”
“Are you so sure about that? I’m not. And neither, I think, is Trystan.”
“Women,” Gwydion spat, putting a world of scorn into the word. “They get hold of a man and ruin them, if they can.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Ellirri said sharply. “You forget. For every woman who treats a man like a dog, there is a man who will let her.”
GWYDION STOOD NEXT to Ellirri and Trystan in Nemed Draenenwen, the sacred grove of hawthorn trees. Many hundreds of folk from the city were gathered here to celebrate Alban Haf, the festival honoring Modron, the Great Mother.
Trystan stood on Gwydion’s right, while Esyllt stood some paces away, next to her husband. Trystan shot glance after glance at Esyllt, as though waiting for something, but she stood quietly, not daring to raise her eyes.
The moon was full shining through the delicate white flowers that covered the trees. An unlit bonfire of holly and oak was laid out in the middle of the grove. A stone altar stood at the eastern end of the clearing. Two golden bowls studded with opals, one full of grains and another filled with sprigs of vervain, were laid on top of the stone. Eight unlit torches had been placed around the altar where Sabrina now stood. Lifting her hands, she began the ritual.
“This is the Wheel of the Year before us. One torch for each of the eight festivals in which we honor the Shining Ones,” she intoned solemnly. As she pointed to each torch, they in turn burst into flame. “Calan Olau, Alban Nerth, Calan Gaef, Alban Nos, Calan Morynion, Alban Awyr, Calan Llachar, and Alban Haf, which we celebrate tonight. We gather here to honor Modron, the Great Mother of All. She who gives life to all, she who gives us the Earth’s bounty.”
As one the crowd responded, “We honor her.”
“Let the Shining Ones be honored as they gather to watch the great battle of the champions. Taran, King of the Winds and Mabon, King of Fire. Nantsovelta, Lady of the Waters. Annwyn, Lord of Chaos and Aertan, Weaver of Fate. Cerridwen, Queen of the Wood and Cerrunnos, Master of the Hunt. Y Rhyfelwr, Agrona and Camulos, the Warrior Twins. Sirona, Lady of the Stars and Grannos, Star of the North and Healer.”
Again, the crowd responded, “We honor the Shining Ones.”
Enid, her face flushed with pride, began her part in the festival. “Why is this the longest day of the year?” she asked.
Sabrina answered, “This is the day when Mabon, King of Fire, Lord of the Sun, tarries in his journey across the sky to watch the champions of Modron and Aertan fight to unleash the bounty of the Earth.”
“Why do they fight?” Enid continued.
“Behold, Modron struggles to bring forth the fruits of the land. She seeks to give birth to the bounty of summer. But she must have vervain to aid her in the birthing. So she sends to Gwlad Yr Haf for the herb, but Aertan, the Weaver of Fate, commands Modron to choose a champion to win the vervain from her.”
Enid asked, “Who are the champions that fight for the vervain?”
Sabrina answered, “Modron chooses the Holly King as her champion.”
At these words a man entered the grove. He was dressed in red and green and carried a branch of holly. He bowed to the assembly.
“And Aertan chooses the Oak King for the fight,” Sabrina continued.
Another man entered, dressed in green and gold, carrying a branch of oak. The two men faced each other, theatrically brandishing their branches. Sabrina went on, “The bounty of the Earth hangs in the balance. The champions begin.”
The Holly King and the Oak King fought each other, clashing their branches together in a stylized manner. Then, with a flourish, the Holly King struck the oak branch out of the Oak King’s hands. A great shout went up from the crowd and the Holly King lifted his branch over his head in victory.
“Celynnen is victorious!” the Holly King shouted. “The Holly has won! Let the bounty of the Earth come forth.”