Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

Charis was accustomed to luxury and fine furnishings, and yet the appointments of her room made her gasp with delight: the cool sheen of silk and the rich, warm luster of sandalwood and teak met her eyes wherever she looked. She whirled through the room, arms outstretched, touching everything, and arrived at the white marble balustrade of a small balcony. “Oh, look! Mother, have you ever seen such a wonderful garden?”

Briseis joined her on the balcony to survey an immense green expanse in the height of its flowering splendor. Shaded pathways wound along streams fed by softly splashing fountains filling cool, flower-edged pools. “Simply wonderful,” agreed her mother. “It is even more lovely than I remember.”

“And look,” said Charis, “a staircase of rny own so I can go down to the garden any time I want.” She looked out across the garden park to the great swell of an enormous shining dome rising above a grove of acacia trees opposite her balcony. “What is that? The High Temple?”

“No, that is the council chamber where the Great Council convenes.”

“I want to go see it! I want to see everything!”

“We will see it all soon enough,” laughed Briseis. “I have no doubt you will find enough to keep you busy for as long as we are here. Come now,” the queen motioned her daughter back inside, “we must leave exploring for later. It is time to wash and change so that we are ready when the usher comes for us.”

Charis walked slowly back inside, brightening again when she discovered that her room possessed a small bath, and that it had been filled with scented water in anticipation of her visit. She quickly undressed and stepped in. “Oh, it-it is magnificent!” she said as she slid into the warm water.

“Enjoy your bath,” her mother said, “and I will send Ilean to dress you.”

“I can dress myself,” Charis said, splashing at a floating blossom.

“You are getting your hair wet!” warned her mother. “We will be dining with the High King in the presence of other kings and royal families; you must look your best. Ilean will dress you.”

Charis was still wallowing in the water when the maidservant came in. “If you please, Princess, stand up and allow me to wash you,” Ilean said as she seated herself on the marble ledge.

“I have already washed,” Charis replied, standing up. “I am ready to be dried.”

Charis stepped from the bath, and Ilean wrapped her in a large linen towel. “The queen has chosen your blue gown for this evening.”

“I prefer my green one.”

“The queen has instructed me otherwise.”

Charis shrugged haughtily and allowed herself to be dressed in the pale blue gown. Her hair was curled and combed and blue and white silk ribbons affixed to the tresses. A garland of tiny white flowers was hung around her neck and new white sandals placed on her feet. Charis looked at her reflection in a large mirror of polished silver. She saw a slender girl with hair like pale sunlight, a high, smooth brow, and large green eyes. She practiced a greeting smile and tweaked her cheeks to bring some color to them.

The usher arrived a few minutes later and led them to the banquet hall. As Avallach entered the hall, trumpeters signaled his arrival with a fanfare, and the herald called loudly, “King Avallach of Sarras, his wife Queen Briseis, and the princes and princess!”

The hall was bright with the light of a thousand lamps and filled with people, all talking so loudly that Charis wondered if anyone heard them announced at all. But someone did, for no sooner had they stepped across the threshold than they were intercepted by a waiting monarch who swept Avallach into a firm embrace.

“Belyn!” cried Avallach. “It is good to see you. When did you arrive?”

“Yesterday. Was your journey enjoyable?”

“Tolerable… It is so dry. We traveled with Seithenin.”

Belyn lowered his voice. “Is he with us?”

Avallach nodded. “Solidly.”

“Good.” Belyn clapped Avallach on the shoulder and turned to the queen. “Briseis, I did not mean to slight you.”

He leaned close and they exchanged kisses. “I am delighted to see you too.”

“Do not apologize, Belyn. It is too late to change who you are.” She glanced at Avallach. “You are just like your brother.”

Belyn laughed. “We are found out, Avallach. The woman knows us too well.”

“You are not alone, Belyn?” asked Briseis, gazing out over the milling throng. “I do not see Elaine. She is here, I trust.”

“Ah, sadly she must remain in her room this evening.”

“I am sorry to miss her. Is she feeling well?”

“Well enough. In truth, I tried to discourage her from coming. She insisted, though the birth is imminent. She said that she would benefit more from fresh air and stimulating company than from sitting alone in a stuffy palace awaiting my return. If she births the baby in a field beside the road, so much the better-so she tells me.” He gave a helpless shrug.

“Tell her I will call on her tomorrow. Perhaps she would enjoy a walk in the garden-if that would not tax her overmuch.”

“She will welcome it.” Belyn turned to the others clustered around. “And who have we here? Kian, Maildun, greetings; Eoinn, Guistan, what young men you have become. I’m glad all of you have come; we will have to spend some time riding together, eh? Perhaps tomorrow afternoon.” The princes chorused their approval of the plan at once.

Belyn’s eyes fell on Charis. “And Charis, my little dove.” He hugged her and tugged on a ribbon. “Not so little anymore, I see. Watch her, Avallach; she will be stealing hearts before this night is through.”

Charis thought this jovial banter odd, considering Belyn and Elaine had visited only days before they had left for Po-seidonis. Before she could remark on it, however, their usher returned to lead them to their table, saying, “The High King will be making his entrance soon… Would you like to be seated?”

“Yes, go on,” said Belyn, “I am going to my table now. We will talk tomorrow.”

Avallach and his family wound their way through the tangle of guests to a raised table-one of nine which were set aside for the kings and their immediate families. Charis, sitting next to her mother, who occupied the place at the king’s right hand, listened as her father named the others gathered in the hall.

“There is Hugaderan of Hespera… He stares this way but pretends not to see me; I expect as much from him,” said Avallach. “And over there sits stony Musaeus with his advisors; I have never once seen him smile.” He shifted his gaze. “Oh, and Itazais of Alilia, looking bored and out of sorts-as if it were beneath him to appear in this company. Next to him, over there, Meirchion of Skatha; now there is a man who knows how to listen to reason.”

Avallach paused and swiveled around. “I do not see Nestor anywhere; surely he does not intend arriving after the High King has entered.”

“Perhaps he will not attend tonight,” said Briseis.

“Ah, Seithenin has just come in. I tell you, Briseis, I am liking that man more and more. Given time, he could become a second brother to me.”

A few moments later, the trumpeters blew a high, dazzling fanfare and the herald announced loudly, “King Ceremon, High King of the Nine Kingdoms, and his wife, Queen Da-nea.”

The room fell silent. The kings and their parties stood as the High King entered, the queen by his side. They were arrayed alike in fine alizarin silk, with gold embroidery at cuffs and hem. Ceremon wore a short gold cloak and gilded boots, and on his head a golden circlet with a sun disk over his brow. Danea wore gilded sandals and a simple circlet of gold; her auburn hair was pulled back and the braid bound with gold rings. Her sleeveless cloak trailed after, its gold-worked border sweeping the floor.