Caerfeddwidd

The large window cut into the wall of 'Mabon's room gave not only a perfect view worthy of any landscape painter's brush, it also offered the opportunity for Zac to watch as the councillors and their enormous entourages arrived at the caer. He'd actually surprised himself this morning, he was up at first light. No electricity and shortage of candles basically meant that when the sun went to bed, so did the rest of humanity.
An amazing burst of luck had led Emrys to fall asleep in the middle of his oratory on social liberties the day before. Despite his fear of speaking, Awen had communicated his amusement well enough with a note and a cheeky grin.


"Why?" Awen's slightly exaggerated shrug was a crack up; Zac had to bite his fist to keep from laughing out loud and risk waking Emrys. Grabbing the note, Awen turned it over and furiously scribbled on the back.


When Zac had shaken his head to indicate the negative, the smile that had crept across the little boy's face made all the trouble worth it. Awen kind of reminded him of Mackie, at least a much quieter version. He was shy as a field mouse, but when he opened up, the mischievous streak shone through. Whatever it was that had brought the boy to trust him so quickly, Zac was certainly grateful.
The gleeful little expression still intact, they'd tip-toed past Emrys into the corridor. From there, Awen had given him the grand tour, highlights being the kitchen – they (or more precisely, Awen) had managed to sneak two honey cakes from a cooling tray – the stables, the tournament field and finally ending in the east tower. Awen's room.
In comparison, Zac's own room had seemed like a five-star hotel penthouse suite!
The east tower was for all intents and purposes a guard tower, all sorts of pikes, longbows and swords were stored in this tiny room. Awen's 'room' was the small storehouse above. He slept on a straw-filled pallet, kept his 'valuables' hidden underneath the sacks of barley and flour. Zac hadn't wanted to think about how cold it must've gotten up there during the winter.
"God Awen, who gave you this room?" he'd been of half a mind to drag the small pallet down from the musty storeroom and into his own room, which had more than enough room for the both of them. It wasn't like he hadn't shared a room before.
What had puzzled him was that the little boy had pointed at himself, as if saying that he'd chosen to sleep in the east tower of his own accord. Awen's little hand had gently grasped his fingers, had led him over to a small section of the wall, covered with sackcloth. Pulling it aside, his young friend showed why he'd chosen a drafty storehouse over the most luxurious rooms in the caer. The view was spectacular. Because Zac's window faced the north, inland, he hadn't known that Caerfeddwidd was so close to the sea. The forest and woodland that covered the land extended so far it almost touched the sea, leaving only a tiny strip of white sand. From the east tower, the panoramic scene revealed the foothills of the Berwyrr Mountains that, according to Emrys, covered most of western Annwfn.
The day had passed surprisingly quickly, considering they'd spent the entire time in the east tower. The Queen had been very understanding; the fact that her servants had turned the caer upside down searching for them meant little to her in the knowing that her two 'sons' were not only getting along, but seemed to have taken an instant liking to each other.

Breakfast had been late in coming that morning. The young handmaiden had almost been in tears bringing it to him. Obviously other occupants of Caerfyrddin didn't appreciate being made to wait.
What was he supposed to do? He didn't want to send this poor girl away in fear for her life! She'd looked around the same age as himself, and as nice as everyone was, he'd missed the company of people his own age. The expression on her face when he'd asked her to stay and keep him company had been priceless! A real Kodak moment. Of course being the gentleman he was, he'd let her sit in the chair; he was content to sit on the ostentatiously big window sill. Sitting up straighter than even the Queen, the girl hands had trembled when he'd offered her half of a rather large pastry. That she was nervous was obvious, but with his trademark extrovert humour he'd soon reduced her to giggles and a more relaxed slouch. Mabon most certainly didn't act like one of the nobility, which made it easier for her to forget she was talking and laughing with the crown-prince of Annwfn. Fifteen minutes and Zac had added another to his growing list of friends. When she wasn't shaking in awe, she was quite talkative. Her name was Meadbh, and she'd been born on the island of Ys – which, she said, explained her name, although Zac couldn't see how. The closest he could come to pronouncing her name was to call her Maeve. According to Meadbh, it was close enough. Her mother had left Ys when she'd found out she was pregnant, and even now she still wouldn't say why. Teirnon, the Lord of Merionydd, had taken them in, in accordance with the Laws of Hospitality – ('Laws of Hospitality?') – and when she'd turned twelve, her mother had sent her to serve in the Queen's entourage.
"No offense, but it reminds me of conscription,"
"Conscription?" when would it eventually sink into his stubborn memory that these people were a long way from the twentieth century; they probably wouldn't even be able to pronounce 'Vietnam' let alone know what it was and everything it symbolised.
"I . . . um . . . it's hard to explain, don't worry about it," the big difference here was that Meadbh actually wanted to serve the Queen, it was probably seen as some kind of honour. Coming from a time that saw royalty and feudalism as nothing more than a tiered form of dictatorship, it was hard for him to understand how Meadbh could just accept it. But then, she'd been raised with the ideology, he hadn't. Democracy would be as alien a concept to her as monarchism was archaic to him.
She hadn't stayed much longer, claiming chores still to be done as her excuse, but where she'd come into this wing of the caer as nothing more than one of the Queen's handmaidens, she left a friend and companion of Annwfn's strange Prince.

The gentle knocking at his door interrupted his flow of consciousness.
"Come in," a dark cloak and rowan staff entered the room, "Oh hey Emrys. Is it time?" before he could stop them, his eyes quickly darted to the bed, which he'd hidden the heavy iron sword underneath, hoping nobody would notice.
"Aye, the King has summoned you to the High Council meeting. And might I ask where your sword has disappeared to?"
"Are you some kind of mind reader?!"
"I am no High Merlin, but I do have a small talent for it,"
"Perfect," muttering under his breath, Zac brought the sword out from its exile. "Emrys, do I have to wear this thing? It weighs a tonne!"
"I'm afraid so. Swords are always left by the door during important meetings, symbolically to show you are willing to compromise if necessary, also to prevent any bloodshed," Zac gulped, "But if you come into serious discussions without a sword, people will wonder at your strength,"
"Strength? Why is that important?"
"Not your own personal strength, but the strength of your army or the kingdom you are speaking for. Usually those who do not bring a sword with them to gatherings do not wish to give offense to others –"
"But when the others see they don't have a sword they'll wonder if that person can't afford to offend anyone 'cause their army's too small to defend their country,"
"Very good my Lord Prince,"
"God, Emrys would you quit it with the 'my Lord Prince'?!"
"I have already explained to you why I cannot,"
"In public yeah, but we're alone!"
"Not entirely,"
"What do you mean 'not entirely'?"
"The darkness might hear you,"
"I beg your pardon?" for a few seconds Emrys looked, almost . . . torn? That was quickly replaced with resignation and a sigh.
"Remember I told you that the High Merlin brought you here for a reason?"
"Yeah. You told me I had to impersonate this Mabon for a while,"
"Aye, but do you remember what I told you of the King's dream,"
"About those three divine sons?"
"Aye,"
"What about them?"
"You asked me if I was asking what you thought I was asking. What did you think I was asking?"
"I thought you meant me, Ike and Tay were the sons and you wanted us to go off on some wild quest, which brings me to another point, where the hell are my brothers? I thought they might have been somewhere else around here but Maeve told me no-one else has come to Caerfeddwidd but me and the three councillors,"
"Maeve?" it was surprisingly easy to tell from the look on his face he was trying to change the subject.
"She's one of the Queen's servants, but what 'might I ask' has that got to do with my brothers? They are here, aren't they?" Emrys sighed again.
"From what I understand, Clarke is on the island of Dyfed, training with Pwyll, the Champion of Annwfn, in the ways of the warrior –"
"Ike? A warrior?! He couldn't even hack two lessons of Tae-kwon-do! He hates war!"
"I trust Taliesin's judgment, and so should you,"
"And what about Tay?"
"Jordan I believe is at Bryn Myrddin,"
"What's that?"
"The High Merlin's stronghold in the Berwyrr Mountains,"
"How come Tay gets to have all the fun? He's hanging out with this Merlin guy? Is that the real Merlin? You know, as in King Arthur's Merlin?"
"The real Merlin? I don't know what you mean by that, my Lord Prince. 'High Merlin' is simply a title given to the wisest sage of a time. Taliesin was the High Merlin long before even Arawn's father Cynfarch was born,"
"And what about King Arthur? You've never heard of him?"
"Ar-tha? I . . . oh, do you mean King Artos? Aye, he rules Prydein. If you wish to know more of him, you'd be better to ask the Queen,"
"The Queen? Why?" Zac was almost afraid to ask.
'Don't tell me these people are anything like the British royal family!'
"They're brother and sister," ('Phew!')
"And after all that, what were you saying about the three sons or whatever?" a long silence followed.
"I . . . I lied, to you,"
"You what?!"
"The High Merlin has brought you and your brothers here to assist us in ridding Annwfn of the darkness that is building at her borders, as was told in the King's dream,"
"WHAT?!"

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