Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

“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.”

Dafyd sat with her while twilight bled into the sky. There were no words he could say to heal the hurt or take away grief’s dull, consuming ache.

At length Charis stood and walked to the window. “It hurts… and I hate it,” she said. “What am I going to do?”

“I cannot tell you,” he said softly, moving to the window to be near her. “Nor can I take the pain away, Charis.”

She turned to him, her eyes fierce. “Do not speak to me of what cannot be,” she said bitterly. “I know that well enough. Taliesin Believed in your God-he called him the Great Light and the God of Love. Where is the love and light now, Dafyd? I need it sorely now!”

The priest only shook his head.

They stood together as dusk descended slowly, drawing night’s veil across the sky and gathering gloom in the chamber as the shadows deepened and spread. Merlin stirred in Rhuna’s lap and began to cry. The baby’s voice cracked the silence with its full-blooded insistence.

“He is hungry,” she said, motioning to Rhuna. “I will feed him now.”

“And I will go down to the hall,” the priest said. “Collen and I will stay in the palace tonight and wait with Taliesin’s body. We will be close by if you need us.”

The pale crescent moon rode high above a broken roof of low-lying clouds as the Cymry rode clattering into the palace forecourt sixty strong. Torches burned in the sconces beside the gates which, though guarded, had been left open for them. As he had earlier in the day, Avallach met travelers in the courtyard. Sorrow lined his features, and the pain in his side bent him nearly double as he made his way down the stone steps to receive his guests.

Elphin swung from the saddle, helped Rhonwyn down, and then turned to meet Avallach’s embrace. “I am sorry,” Avallach told him. “I am deeply sorry…”

“Where is he?” asked Rhonwyn.

“I have laid his body in the great hall. You will find him there and the priests with him.”

“We w.ill go to him at once,” replied Elphin. His voice was raw.

The Cymry followed their lord into the palace and to the great hall where they found a board on trestles standing in the center of the huge room, torches on poles at each comer, and the two priests kneeling beside the bier. Dafyd and Collen stood as the Cymry came in and withdrew silently to a corner of the room.

Elphin gave out a great cry of anguish and rushed to the bier and threw himself across the body of his son. Rhonwyn advanced more slowly, tears streaming from her eyes. She took one of Taliesin’s hands in hers and sank to her knees. The Cymry gathered around their king and queen and lifted their voices in the death lament, wailing loudly, abandoning themselves to their grief.

Hafgan entered behind the others and stood for a moment with his eyes closed, listening to the dirge of voices. Opening his eyes again, he approached the bier to stand above the lifeless form of the one he had loved like a son. “Farewell, Shining Brow,” he whispered to himself. “Farewell, my Golden One.”

Gathering his mantle into his fists, he pulled mightily and the garment ripped. “Ahhhgh!” he cried loudly, his voice rising above the others. “Behold, my people!” He extended his hands over Taliesin’s body. “The son of our delight lies cold in death’s strong grip! Weep and cry out loudly! Wail, Cymry! Let Lieu of the Long Hand hear our lament! Let the Good God know our grief! Our bard, our son, our Golden One has been struck down! Let all men bow their heads low and weep! Weep a river of tears to bear his soul away! Weep, my people, for his like will not be seen among us again… never again…”