“I would welcome a dry bed tonight,” said Taliesin, helping Charis into her saddle. He noted her vacant expression. “Are you well, my love?”
Charis started and came to herself. “I have been dreaming,” she replied, shaking her head. “It is the fog and mist.”
“We could rest a while,” put in Eiddon.
“No,” she said, forcing a smile. “I am only a little sleepy. It is nothing. It will pass.”
“I will take the baby, my lady, if you please,” offered Rhuna. Charis handed her the child and they continued on, falling into single file. Although Charis fought to remain alert, she soon drifted into the same heavy, drowsy reverie-a waking sleep wherein her mind drifted lazily like a full-laden boat in a sullen, turgid stream. Her eyes closed even as the dull, gray mist closed around her.
It seemed like only a moment passed, but when she opened her eyes once more the mist had darkened and deepened. The road was wet and silent, the only sound heavy drops falling from the branches of trees and the thicket hedge that formed an impenetrable wall along the roadside. The instant she raised her head, Charis sensed danger.
The silence felt unnatural. She looked around quickly. Rhuna rode just behind her, followed by Taliesin. A little way ahead Eiddon, shoulders straight and head cocked to one side, listened, his hand on the sword at his Belt. Ahead of Eiddon, Salach, spear in hand, was just barely discernible as a gray and ghostly shape in the mist.
“What is it?” she asked. Her voice was instantly muffled and lost in the dead still air.
Up ahead she saw Salach stop and stretch tall in the saddle. Eiddon rode to him and the two put their heads together. Then Eiddon wheeled his horse around and came toward her. She saw his face taut in the gloom. His sword was in his hand.
Merlin! Where was her baby? She whirled in the saddle to look behind.
In the same instant she heard a strange and frightening sound, like the whirring buzz of an angry wasp or the thin feathered shriek of an eagle’s pinions slicing the air. It was cut off by a dull, thudding chunk.
Eiddon’s horse swept past her as Rhuna came alongside. “Give Merlin to me!” she whispered tersely.
As the girl unwrapped the child from the warmth of her cloak, Taliesin’s horse came apace. Charis turned to ask what was happening but the words stuck in her throat.
She reached out to him.
Then she saw it-the arrow buried deep in his chest.
His head was toward her, but his eyes were fixed on something far in the distance, his face alight with the vision: the Kingdom of Summer. It was only the briefest of moments and then the light flickered and died. Taliesin slumped forward, the reins still in his hands.
The scream that tore the deep-wooded silence was her own. The motions around her were confused; shapes tumbled from the fog and somehow she was on the ground, bending over Taliesin’s body, the arrow in her hands. She was whimpering and trying to drag the evil thing from her husband’s heart.
She felt hands close over hers as Eiddon knelt beside her. Taliesin gazed upward, his eyes dark and empty, the warmth of life slowly seeping from his body.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Lady, we can stay here no longer.” the hollow voice was Eiddon’s and his hand was under her elbow. “They may return at any moment.”
Charis looked up and saw the grim, ashen face of her friend. Nearby, the baby cried softly in Rhuna’s arms. The light was dim, the day fading rapidly toward twilight. The mist had dissolved into a mournful drizzle, making the rough-cobbled road wet where Taliesin lay. She glanced down at her hands and at the red stains there where she had gripped the arrow, and it seemed as if she had dwelt a lifetime in this place in the road.
“Charis,” said Eiddon softly, “will you come?”
She nodded silently and tried to stand, but her legs would not bear her weight. Instead, she fell forward across Taliesin’s body. She clung to him, pushing his wet hair from his face with her hands, then lay her cheek against his still chest.
“Sleep well, my love.” She kissed his cool lips and Eiddon helped her to her feet.
Salach knelt a few paces away, arms hanging limp at his side, silent tears streaming down his face and neck. Charis went to him and put her hand on his head. He raised hopeless eyes to her and cried. “Forgive me, my lady,” he wailed. “If I had been sooner with the warning… if I had only heard them… I might have… Oh, please, if I had heard them he would still be alive…” His head dropped and his heart broke anew.
“There is nothing you could do,” Charis told him. “There is nothing anyone could have done. There is no fault to forgive. How could you know?” She put a hand out to him. “Get up now, Salach, I need your strength. We all have a long way to go.”
The young man dragged his sleeve across his face and struggled to his feet. Charis put her arms around him and hugged him, then led him to where Taliesin lay. “You must help Eiddon put Taliesin on his horse. I will not leave him here.”
Salach hesitated, but Eiddon nodded and the two set about lifting Taliesin’s body into the saddle.
It had been dark a long time when they finally reached the tiny settlement at the ford of the Byd River. There were only a handful of round earth-and-timber houses surrounded by an earthen dike topped with a wooden palisade. The gate was closed, but there was a bonfire in the center of the cluster of houses.
Eiddon rode to the edge of the ditch and shouted at the group of figures standing near the fire. The people instantly darted from the fire, their silhouettes vanishing into the shadows. Eiddon called again, loudly and clearly in Briton so there would be no mistaking them for raiders. A few moments later a torch appeared over the gate.
“These gates are closed for the night. We open them to no one,” an unseen voice called.
“We have been attacked on the road. We need help,” Eiddon told the man.
There was a long silence. “We have silver to pay for lodging,” Eiddon added.
Almost at once the timber gates opened and a crude plank bridge was produced. The horses walked over the planking and into the protective circle of the palisade where the people of Byd ford gathered silently around the body slumped over the horse.
The old man of the settlement approached Eiddon warily. “Looks like your man is hurt,” he said cautiously, eyeing Eiddon’s gold shoulder brooch and the silver tore on his neck.
“He is my friend and he is dead,” replied Eiddon softly. “We are taking him home.”
The old man nodded and squinted at the travelers in the firelight. “You was attacked then.” The people murmured behind him. “You will be hungry, I expect.”
“Food would be welcome,” Eiddon replied. He turned to Charis and led her to a place by the bonfire, spread his cloak, and helped her sit down. Then he and Salach led Taliesin’s horse away into the darkness where, with utmost tenderness, they lifted Taliesin’s body from the saddle and lay it down. Salach spread his cloak over the body and left it for the night.
The travelers warmed themselves by the fire and ate a few mouthfuls of food which they did not taste and then stretched out to sleep. Without fuss or show, the old man posted a guard at the gate for the rest of the night saying, “You will sleep the better for a sharp eye.” One of the women of the hamlet approached Charis and said, “It is cold for the little ‘un, lady. Come inside the both of you, and your girl.”
Charis rose and went into a nearby hut; Rhuna followed with Merlin and they were given the only bed-a straw pallet spread with fleeces in a dry corner. Exhausted, Charis closed her eyes as soon as her head touched the pallet and was asleep.
The night was a blessed void and Charis awoke at first light. Merlin stirred beside her and cried for food. She suckled him and lay thinking about the long, lonely day ahead; then she thought of months and years to come. Where will I find the strength to go on? she wondered and decided that it was impossible to think that far ahead. She would instead think only of the present moment and not the one to come. In this way, moment by moment, she could do what had to be done.