Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

“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.”

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?”

Hafgan gave him a long, appraising look. “You will be wise not to let your head swell with false pride. Accept what happens to you, yes, even accept the praise. But do not glory too greatly in it, for that is the death of kings.”

“But you just said you will make a song about me”

“And I shall. But I want you to know that it is more a matter of necessity, I would say, than of desiring to increase your renown among men.”

Elphin gazed at the druid uncomprehendingly. “I do not understand you, Hafgan.”

“The time is coming when the tribe must have a strong leader. You will be that leader; you will be king after your father.”

“That is far from certain,” protested Elphin.

Hafgan reached out and tapped Elphin’s gold tore with a finger. “Lieu himself has proclaimed it. But we must look further ahead than that.”

“Further ahead? What are you talking about?”

“The child. Taliesin.”

“What about him?”

“He will be a bard.”

“So you have said.”

“A bard must be trained.”

Elphin stared at the druid as if he had lost his mind. “He is but a babe!”

Hafgan closed his eyes. “I am aware of that. He must begin his training when the times comes, as it soon will.”

“I still cannot see what you want from me.”

“Your word: that you will give the child to me-when the time comes.”

Elphin hesitated. “Where will you take him?”

“There will be no need to take him anywhere. He will stay here at Caer Dyvi for the most part. In fact, he can remain in your house if you choose. But I must be given charge of his learning.”

“This is important?”

The druid looked at him levelly. “Vitally important.”

“Very well, I agree. And I will talk to Rhonwyn too. She can have no objection-except that she may come in time to fancy kingship for Taliesin, and might prefer it.”

Hafgan rose slowly. “Tell her this: Taliesin may well be a king one day, but he will be a bard first and last. And that is how he will be remembered-as the greatest bard who ever lived.”

Elphin considered this for a moment and said, “You can have my son, Hafgan. You have my word, for I see that your interest is not for yourself alone, but for the people.”

“Well said, Lord Elphin,” replied the druid.

Just then there came the sound of hammering. Elphin looked back toward his house where Cuail, having prepared the heads of the two raiders slain by Elphin’s spear by dipping them in cedar oil, was now nailing them to the doorposts of his nearly-finished house. “This is a warrior’s house,” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Now everyone will know it.”

“A warrior’s house,” muttered Elphin, shaking his head. “It was luck, not a warrior’s skill that felled those two.”

“Do not mock the faith of simple men,” replied Hafgan. “Luck in battle is a thing of power, for whatever men Believe they will follow.” He paused and pointed at Cuall. “I spoke of the future. There is yours.”

“Cuall?”

“And men like him. A battlechief must have a warband.”

“A warband! Hafgan, we have not maintained a warband since before my grandfather was a boy. With the garrison at Caer Seiont there has been no need.”

“Times change, Elphin. Needs change.”

“How will I raise a warband?”

The druid frowned at his shortsightedness. “You have six cantrefs, lad! What good is being king if you cannot raise a respectable warband from six cantrefs?”

“But I am not the king. My father is the king.”

“Not much longer. And when I have finished your song, men will come to you to pledge their arms and lives. You will have your warband.”

“And you, Hafgan, what will you have?”

“A name.”

“A name-nothing else?”

“There is nothing else.”

The druid turned and walked away. Elphin watched him go, and then went back to inspect his house. Cuall was lingering nearby, and Elphin realized with some surprise that the man waited for a look or sign of recognition from him. He stopped and studied the heads nailed to his doorposts and then directed his gaze to Cuall.

“I am honored by your thoughtfulness,” he said and watched a huge grin break like sunrise across Cuall’s crag of a face.

“A man should have renown among his people.”

“You have earned the hero’s portion often enough yourself, Cuall. And I have heard your name lauded around the feast table more times than I can count.”