Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

Elphin was amazed at the impact of his words. The hulking Cuall grinned foolishly, and his cheeks colored like a maid’s when her clumsy flirtation is discovered.

“I would fight at your side anytime,” said Cuall earnestly.

“I am going to raise a warband, Cuall. I will need your help.”

“My life is yours, Sire.” Cuall touched his forehead with the back of his hand.

“I accept your service,” Elphin replied seriously. The two men gazed at one another and Cuall stepped close, taking Elphin in a fierce hug. Then, suddenly embarrassed, he turned and hurried away.

“You will make a good king.”

Elphin turned to see Rhonwyn watching him from the doorway. “You saw?”

She nodded. “I saw a future lord winning support. More, I saw a man putting aside the hurt of the past and reconciling a former enemy, raising him to friendship without rancor or guile.”

“It is not in me to hurt him. Besides, he is the best warrior in the clan. I will need his help.”

“And that is why you will be a good king. Small men do not hesitate to repay hurt for hurt.”

“All this talk of kings and warbands…” He shook his head in wonder. “I never dreamed…”

Rhonwyn moved close and put her hand to his cheek. “Dreams, Elphin, why speak of dreams? Wake and look around you. Is this a dream?” She touched the golden tore. “Am I?”

“You are,” replied Elphin and laughed, clasping her around the waist. “No man ever had such a beautiful wife.”

A baby’s cry sounded within. Rhonwyn wriggled from Elphin’s grasp and disappeared inside, returning a moment later with Taliesin in her arms. “See your father, little one?” She held the child up to gaze into Elphin’s face. Elphin reached out a finger and tickled the babe under the chin to make him smile.

Taliesin’s eyes fixed on the gold at his father’s throat, reached out a tiny hand, and grabbed the bear’s head on the end of Elphin’s bright tore. “This is too big for you now,” said Elphin. “But one day you will grow into it, never fear.”

“How beautiful he is,” murmured Rhonwyn, her eyes lit with love for the child. ‘ ‘And the way he looks at me sometimes-so wise, as if he knows what I am thinking. Or as if he wants to speak to me. I believe he is trying to tell me something.”

“Hafgan Believes him charmed as well.” Elphin took the tiny hand in his. “I have agreed to let him teach the boy. Taliesin will remain with us, but Hafgan will be charged with his learning. Think of it, both king and bard in the same house!”

The tribune of the Roman garrison at Caer Seiont rode into Caer Dyvi a few days later to speak to Gwyddno Garanhir. He wore a well-used leather breastplate and carried a gladius, the short sword of the legionary at the end of his baldric. Otherwise he rode unprotected. He was not a large man, but his easy authority gave him stature. His glance was quick and his manner decisive; he was not a man to give an order twice. Yet years of command in the furthest, most nearly forgotten outpost of the empire had blunted the sharp military edge he had acquired in Caesar’s army. With him was a young man with black, curly hair and hungry black eyes under thick black brows.

They approached from the north along the narrow sea trail, circled around, and rode up the track to the gate at the rear of the caer, where they stopped and waited for someone to notice them. ‘ ‘Tribune Avitus of Legio Twenty Valeria to see Lord Gwyddno,” the officer shouted at the first face to appear.

The gate was opened, and the soldiers rode directly to Gwyddno’s house and waited for Gwyddno to appear.

“Hail, Lord Gwyddno!” called Avitus, climbing down from his horse. He nodded to the young man with him, who also Dismounted.Gwyddno gestured and two men came forward to lead the horses away. “You have ridden far,” said Gwyddno amiably-much more amiably than he felt. “Come in and refresh yourselves.”

“I accept your hospitality,” replied the tribune.

The three entered the house and Medhir scurried about, setting cups before each of them, and plates of bread and fruit. When they had toasted one another and offered a splash to the gods, they drank and the cups were refilled. The young man reached for his cup a second time, but his superior frowned and he withdrew the hand.

“You favor us with your presence,” said Gwyddno.

“I have not seen you for a long time, Lord Gwyddno” began Avitus.

“I paid my taxes!” protested Gwyddno quickly.

The tribune raised his hands to show he meant no offense. “Please, I was not thinking of taxes,” explained Avitus. “To tell you the truth, I wish more lords would pay as promptly. It would be a blessing. No, I only meant that it has been some time since I have had the pleasure of your company.”

“Is that what brings you here today? My company?”

“Father!” The voice from the doorway was at once genial and mildly reproachful. The men turned as Elphin came to the table. “I was told we had important visitors.”

“Aye,” agreed Gwyddno, less readily than he might have.

“Prince Elphin.” The tribune inclined his head in greeting. “I am pleased to greet you. Allow me to present Centurion Magnus Maximus, newly assigned to the Twentieth.”

“Centurion Maximus, welcome,” he said, sitting with them.

The soldiers exchanged puzzled glances. Gwyddno saw what passed between them and said, “My son will join us. He is taking an active interest in my affairs lately.”

“I see,” said Avitus. “You are to be commended, Prince Elphin. Your father is a highly respected man.”

“They have come seeking my company,” offered Gwyddno by way of explanation.

“And your aid,” added the tribune bluntly. “I have no wish to veil the true reasons for my visit. We need your help.”

“Help!” snorted Gwyddno. “My taxes are not enough, they want my help too.”

“You know,” said Avitus gently, “I was born in Gwynedd, and so was my father. My mother and grandmother are Britons; so is my wife. I am nearly as British as you are, Lord Gwyddno. And we are both citizens of the same empire.”

Gwyddno snorted again but said nothing. The tribune continued, “The men of my family are soldiers; we have served the Empire loyally for generations. We have a small farm near Arfon. And when my command is over I will live there as your neighbor.”

“I understand what you are saying,” said Elphin. “Helping you is like helping a kinsman.”

“It is helping yourselves,” put in Maximus.

“Oh? I suppose it is my own hand in my purse and not the Emperor’s at tax time?” questioned Gwyddno.

“Without the Emperor’s army up the road, you would find the Cruithne’s hands in your purse and their knives at your throat, you old”

“That will do, Maximus!” Avitus glared at his subordinate. “Please forgive the centurion. He is new to this province and is finding it difficult to accustom himself to the ways of the people hereabouts.”

Gwyddno scowled and turned his face away. Elphin ignored his father’s bad manners. “How can we help you, Tribune?”

Avitus leaned forward on his arms. “I do not need to tell you that the Cruithne are becoming more bold lately, raiding further south and inland each year. This summer we expect them to come into Gwynedd, perhaps as far as the Dyvi.

“And not Cruithne only-Picti, Attacotti, Scotti and Saec-sen too. Every motherless savage among them is on the move these days. They come out of the very cracks in the rocks, it seems.”

“Let them come,” said Gwyddno. “We will be ready.”

“I am certain you will,” replied Avitus patiently. “But the villages on the coast and in the valleys will not be prepared. They are not fortified.”