“As you wish, Sire,” replied Avallach.
“Agreed,” said Nestor through clenched teeth.
“Then take your seat, Nestor,” ordered Ceremon. The king made a curt bow, glowered at Avallach, and sat down. “Now then, let us be about our business. Let the Keeper of the Record call the first case.”
The council administered justice until the Bell tolled, ending the day’s session. As the kings filed from the council chamber, Ceremon called to Nestor and Avallach, “I will expect you both to dine with me in my apartments this evening. An usher will bring you.”
Avallach joined his brother and Seithenin, who were waiting in the corridor beyond the vestibule. When the kings were alone together Seithenin said, “That was neatly done, Avallach. I admire your aplomb; I doubt I could have comported myself so.”
“It was an inspiration of the moment, I assure you. If we had not already suspected something like this, I would have reacted quite diiferently,” replied Avallach. Turning to Belyn, he said, “Do you have the documents you took from Nestor’s spies?”
“Of course. They are safely locked away.”
“Bring them to me. I may need them when I dine with the High King tonight.”
The meal in the High King’s inner chamber was an exercise in sullen diplomacy, in which Ceremon managed, barely, to keep peace between the two kings. Avallach seemed inclined toward civility, while Nestor maintained a bruised and brooding silence, broken only by harsh snorts at Avallach’s occasional remarks.
When at last the meal was finished and the three reclined over sweet almond liqueur, the High King said, “I had hoped that we might reach agreement over the unfortunate incident brought before us in council this morning.”
“Agreement, Sire?” asked Nestor archly. “I would expect an apology-not that I am prepared to accept one.”
“Let us not speak of apologies, Nestor,” countered Aval-lach, “unless it is for the slander you have committed against my name and honor.”
“You call me slanderer!”
“More, I call you liar,” said Avallach, sipping his liqueur.
“Please!” interrupted Ceremon. “The agreement I had hoped for was this: that Nestor withdraws his complaint and that Avallach disregards the hurt caused his name.”
Both men bristled at this, but Nestor spoke first. “His hurt! What about my hurt? I lost a crew and ship and suffered mightily for my exertion.”
“Did you, Nestor?” Ceremon looked at him steadily. “As it stands, there is no convincing proof of your assertion.”
Nestor threw his finger in Avallach’s face. “No proof! He”
“No proof,” insisted Ceremon, color rising to his face. “By the gods of earth and sky, man, there is no proof. You cannot come into council with such a transparent tale and expect us all to fall bedazzled under the spell of your words. In truth, there is no compelling reason to Believe you, Nestor.”
The kings glared at one another. “I beg Avallach’s indulgence,” said the High King, “for I perceive his hurt to be me greater.”
Nestor scowled; his hands gripped the edge of the low table as if he would overthrow it.
Ceremon turned to Avallach. “What do you say, Avallach? It is getting late and we must reach agreement somehow.”
“Very well,” said Avallach slowly. “For the sake of understanding between us I will submit to the agreement and will seek no retaliation for this insult.”
“Well?” The High King turned to Nestor.
“Since both of you conspire against me, I have no recourse but to submit. So be it.” Nestor stood up slowly and threw a murderous glance at Avallach, then turned on his heel and went out.
When he had gone, Ceremon poured more liqueur into the tiny crystal cups. “His is a devious mind, Avallach. But now that it is settled, let us put it behind us.”
“I only hope that it is settled, Sire.”
“Do you have any idea why he chose to indict you?”
“I protest that I do not. The affair is a mystery to me-as obscure, I might say, as the reasons behind these.” He reached into the pouch at his hip and withdrew the documents confiscated from Nestor’s spies in Belyn’s shipyards.
“What is this?”
“These were taken from two Ogygians caught in Belyn’s shipyards; they were posing as Azilian merchants. But, as the papers indicate, they were interested in considerably more than hiring a vessel.”
Ceremoe perused the papers, frowning. “Yes, I see what you mean: granaries… number of gates to the city… depth of harbor… fresh water supply… From this I would expect” he looked up worriedly, “-an invasion.”
“Our thoughts precisely, Sire.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“Only myself and Belyn.” Avallach hesitated, then added, “And Seithenin.”
“You are not to tell anyone else. In fact, you are to forget the entire incident.”
“Forget, Sire? But, these,” he indicated the sheaf of documents, “in light of Nestor’s deplorable behavior in council-“
“I will deal with this in my own way, Avallach. Leave it to me.”
Avallach stared at the High King for a moment. “As you will, Sire.” He drained his cup and stood up. “If you will excuse me, it has been a long day and I wish to retire.”
“Yes, of course,” agreed Ceremon aflably. He rose from his couch and walked with Avallach to the door. “We have all had a trying day, I dare say. Sleep will do us all good.”
“Good night,” said Avallach. He turned, and started through the open doorway.
The High King put out a hand to stay him. “Please, as difficult as it may be, forget this incident. And do not provoke Nestor. Indeed, stay well away from him.”
“That, at least, will not be difficult. I mean to have nothing further to do with Nestor, now or in the future.”
“I will find out what is behind these actions, Avallach. Trust me.”
“As you wish,” said Avallach. “I leave it in your hands.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
News of Elphin’s astounding prowess in the battle with the cattle raiders spread quickly throughout the six can-trefs. His kinsmen greeted him respectfully when they saw him and told one another once and again about the uncanny change in the king’s son.
He was bold, they said, and brave; the soul of an ancient hero-perhaps the very one whose tore he now wore- animated him. The lumbering Cuall, formerly one of Elphin’s harshest detractors, became overnight his greatest advocate.
Elphin enjoyed the praise and his increased status in the clan but did not make too much of it, preferring to minimize his role in the remarkable series of events that seemed to be clustering around him since his discovery of the babe in the weir. And Hafgan, whose prophecy had foreseen the change, appeared to view the young man in a different light. Clan members saw the two talking together frequently and wondered about the druid’s interest.
However, it was not Elphin that the druid was primarily interested in but the infant, Taliesin.
“It is time to begin thinking about the future,” said Hafgan a few days after the foiled cattle raid. He and Elphin were sitting outside Elphin’s house in the sun. With no shortage of eager volunteers, work was progressing quickly: timbers were cut, shaped, and erected around the perimeter of the excavated hole and connected with beams and rafters; walls of split logs had been lashed into place and the chinks were being filled with clay; soon reed thatch would be laid and trimmed for the roof. “What happened the other night has removed any remaining doubt people have nursed against you to this time. They will talk and your shadow will grow great in the land. Indeed, I will see to it: I intend composing a song about it. Your deed will be remembered, Elphin, and it is only the first of many.”
“You flatter me, Hafgan,” replied Elphin. “I hardly know how to think about what happened. I feel the same as ever I did, and yet I cannot deny what has taken place. Do you suppose there is something in what people say?”