When they had all risen and were making ready to leave, the old man of the hamlet came to Eiddon and said, “It is not meet to make a man ride to his grave.” He turned and gestured to two of the men standing nearby, who began pushing up a creaky two-wheeled cart. “Your friend will go with more ease in this. Take it.”
“If he knew the kindness you had done him,” said Eiddon, “he would reward you most generously.” The prince reached into the pouch at his Belt and withdrew a handful of silver coins which he pressed into the old man’s hand.
The old man tested the weight of the clutch of coins. “Is he a king then?”
“He is,” Eiddon said.
They hitched the cart to the packhorse and carefully laid Taliesin in the box. They left the settlement and crossed the river at the ford, found the road on the other side, and continued on toward Aquae Sulis, reaching the hectic streets of the city by midmorning. They broke fast and, hoping to reach Ynys Witrin by nightfall, moved on, turning southward at the crossroads, leaving the columned porticoes and towering tiled roofs of the noisy, brick-built town behind.
Almost at once Charis felt they had entered familiar lands again. She seemed to recognize each hill and valley, though she knew she could never have seen them before. This recognition comforted her, false though it was.
From time to time Charis turned in the saddle to look behind, expecting to see Taliesin there, a smile on his lips, eyes clear and bright, a hand raised in greeting.
But there was only the rude cart swaying along as its wheels turned slowly around and around.
The hours passed one after another as the sun made its slow way through the dull, cloud-draped sky. Charis remembered nothing about the rest of the journey, except the deepest, deadliest pain she had ever known and the darkest, emptiest silence that received her heart’s anguished cries. She moved as in a dream, achingly slow, burdened with the most enormous weight of mind-numbing grief.
By late afternoon they came to the Briw River and turned off the road, following the track which led to the Isle of Glass. As the sun spread into an orange-red glow on the horizon, Charis lifted her head and saw Avallach’s palace on its hollow hill floating above the reed-fringed lake.
The sight brought her no joy, no lightness of spirit or gladness of heart. Instead, she reflected ruefully on the reunion and welcome that should have been but now would never be.
Soon the horse’s hooves struck the causeway across the marshy wasteland to the island. The winding track led them to the palace. The gates stood open and waiting, for they had been seen coming a long way oif. As soon as the cart bearing Taliesin’s body rolled to a halt, Avallach appeared in the courtyard and Lile with him.
He spread his arms in welcome while Eiddon helped Charis dismount, but his smile died when he saw his daughter’s face. “Charis?” he asked, noting the retinue of strangers, “where is Taliesin?”
Charis indicated the rude bier but could not make herself say the words. Eiddon approached and stood beside her. Inclining his head in deference to Avallach, he said, “Taliesin is dead, Lord Avallach-struck down on the road by a Cruithne arrow.”
Avallach’s great shoulders sagged and he put out a hand and drew Charis to him, folding her into his strong embrace. Lile, standing quietly nearby, went to the cart and pulled back the cloak that covered the body. She stared into the once bright visage for a moment and then lightly touched the cruel arrow still protruding from Taliesin’s chest. She replaced the cloak and walked quickly toward the stables and then returned. A few moments later a horse and rider clattered across the courtyard from the stables and rode away.
“His people must be told,” she said to Salach, who stood watching silently. “I have sent word for them to come at once.”
Salach nodded glumly and lowered his eyes again.
At length Avallach lifted his head and beckoned Rhuna to him. She presented the infant, peeling away the woolen wrap so that he could see the baby. “Ah, the child!” he said, “the child… so fair…”
Charis stirred. “His name is Merlin,” she said and placed him in her father’s hands.
“Welcome, little Merlin,” said Avallach, drawing his forefinger across the baby’s forehead and cheek. “And welcome, daughter.” He paused and looked toward the funeral cart. “Forgive me, Charis. I will bear his death upon my heart to my own grave. Let God judge me harshly for the wrong I have done you.”
“Forgive you, Father?”
“I drove you away and thereby brought about this tragedy. “
Charis shook her head firmly. “Did you bend the bow, Father? Did you notch the arrow to the string and loose it blindly in the mist? No, there is nothing to forgive.”
Lile stepped close and said, “Take Charis inside. I will see to the body.” Avallach gave the babe back to Rhuna and led Charis into the palace, Rhuna following behind.
When Charis and the baby had been conducted to her rooms, Avallach returned to the courtyard. “I do not know you,” said Avallach to Eiddon, “but I perceive you have done me good service by bringing my daughter home safely, and I thank you for that.”
Eiddon shook his head sadly. “You owe me no thanks, for I would gladly take his place even now.”
“You were his friend?”
“I am still,” Eiddon said. “My name…”He hesitated. “My name is Maelwys, and I greet you in the name of my father, Pendaran Gleddyvrudd, Lord of Dyfed.”
“Ah, yes, the druid who brought word told me about your father. You and your brother are welcome in my house.”
They went to the cart and Avallach gazed long and sorrowfully upon the body. Lile returned with men bearing a litter, and as they made to carry the body inside, Dafyd and Collen arrived, running breathless into the courtyard, faces set and grim, their mantles flowing behind them in their hurry.
Dafyd approached the body and stood for a moment as if perplexed; then, withdrawing a vial from a fold in his mantle, he dipped a finger in the oil and drew the sign of the cross on Taliesin’s cold forehead.
When they had finished, Lile took charge of the body; Dafyd rose and came to Avallach. “Your man found us on the road and told us what had happened. We came directly. Where is Charis?”
“She has been taken to her rooms. They have traveled far today.”
“Yet, I will go in to her,” replied Dafyd, “if only for a moment.”
The priests went into the palace and foun’d the women gathered in an upper room; Charis stood when she saw Dafyd enter and met him. The priest embraced her, took her hand, and led her back to the bed where they sat without speaking. After a time Lile came to say that the body had been laid in the hall. “Have you seen the… seen Taliesin?” Charis asked Dafyd.
“I brought oil and anointed him.”
“What good will that do now, priest?” demanded Lile. Her voice was low but sharp.
Dafyd ignored the taunt. “How can I help you, Charis?”
“Leave her alone. You and your god have done enough for her already,” Lile snarled.
“Please, Lile,” Charis said softly, “I would speak with my friend. Go and find a basket for Merlin.”
Lile withdrew, throwing a scalding look at Dafyd as she passed by. Rhuna, cradling the baby on her lap, sat in a chair beside the bed, her face drawn and pale, yet her eyes glinting bright in the falling light.
Charis, still holding the priest’s hand, looked out the open window at the crimson stain of the sky. “There was no warning,” sighed Charis heavily. “We were riding in thick mist. It was wet and dark. I heard a strange sound and looked back and Taliesin was struck. He made no sound, no cry, no word. He was… was just dead.” She turned to Dafyd, shaking her head wearily. “I loved him so much and now he is gone.”