Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

Thus, she was not all surprised when Avallach requested Dafyd to begin instructing him in the religion of the new god. Charis thought it a harmless enough occupation, but Lile- always hovering, always unseen, and always nearby-resented the pilgrims and warned that nothing good could come from chasing after alien gods.

“What will happen when they leave?” Lile asked Charis one day. Dafyd had just arrived for one of his sessions with the king, and Charis was on her way to join them. She met Lile lurking outside the king’s reception hall.

“When who leaves?”

“The holy men, the priests or pilgrims or whatever they are-what happens when they go away?”

“Have they said they are going away?” wondered Charis.

“No, but it is plain enough. When they have taken enough money from Avallach and their shrine is finished, they will leave.”

“That should make you happy. Why do you care?”

“I do not care-not for myself. I was only thinking of Avallach.”

“Of course.”

“You think I have not noticed? I know Avallach is better when the priest is with him.” Lile clutched at Charis’ sleeve in a clumsy, desperate motion.

Charis observed her more closely. Certainly something was upsetting Lile; the woman’s expression wavered between helplessness and anger. Her tone was at once fierce and pleading. “What is wrong, Lile?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. I do not want to see my husband hurt.”

“You think Dafyd’s leaving would hurt him, is that it?”

Lile hesitated. “It might.”

Charis smiled. “Then we must ask Dafyd to stay.”

“No!” Lile cried.

Lile’s misery was so real, Charis grew serious. “Lile,” she said softly, “do not begrudge Avallach the peace he finds in Dafyd’s words. The king will not love you less for loving this new god more.”

Though the words were out of her own mouth, Charis froze. Did her father love the new god and his miracle-working son? Did she?

Was that what had drawn her to the ruined shrine? Love? Was it love that quickened her heart when Dafyd spoke? Was love the odd, quivery sensation she felt when she whispered the name of Jesu to herself?

“ I begrudge him?” Lile was saying.

“What?” asked Charis, coming to herself again.

“You said I begrudged Avallach peace. I do not!” she insisted and then whined pitifully, “Oh, it would have been better if they had never come!”

“The pilgrims intend only good” began Charis.

“And now they have brought a whole tribe of the Britons in with them.” She gestured toward the door. “They are all in there with Avallach now. Who knows what they are scheming?”

At that moment the door opened and a seneschal appeared. He inclined his head and addressed them both. “If you please, the king requests your presence.” He stepped aside and opened the door wide to usher them in.

“There, now we will see what they are scheming,” whispered Charis as they entered the hall together.

Charis approached the king’s canopied litter and glanced toward the delegation-eighty or more, she estimated-gathered before him. Her eyes swept the odd-looking assembly and lit upon the long, lean form of a fair-haired young man.

Her step faltered. She dropped her eyes and proceeded, coming to stand at Avallach’s left hand as Lile took her place on his right.

She felt the eyes of the strangers upon her and grew oddly ill-at-ease; her heart raced and her hands trembled. She took a deep breath and willed her composure to return.

“… my daughter, the Princess Charis,” the king was saying and Charis realized that she had just been introduced. She smiled thinly and nodded toward the assembly.

Dafyd stepped forward and indicated the group behind him. “King Avallach, I bring before you King Elphin ap Gwyddno of Gwynedd, and, ah-his people.” The priest seemed uncertain precisely who they were, but began introducing them just the same.

Charis took the opportunity to study the strangers. They were dressed in the way of the Britons, but more colorfully, more exotically than any of the Dumnoni or Cerniui she had met. The king wore a heavy gold neck ornament, a tore, as did several others in the company. They wore bright cloaks- red, blue, orange, green, yellow-gathered over their shoulders and pinned with huge, elaborate brooches wrought of silver or enameled copper in cunning design. The men wore mustaches, full and flaring, but no beards; their dark hair, though long, was gathered and tied at the neck with leather thongs. They wore loose-fitting trousers with bold stripes or checks, their legs bound with long crisscrossed strips of bright cloth to midthigh. Most wore heavy bracelets of bronze and copper inlaid with beaten gold. Several carried iron-tipped spears, and others double-bladed swords.

The women wore long colorful tunics and mantles, with wide, intricately-woven girdles wrapped around their waists; each hem, cuff, and neckband was finely embroidered with intricate borders. Their hair was meticulously braided and coiled, the coils studded with ornate bronze pins with amber, garnet, and pearl inlay. Necklaces, chains, and bracelets of gold, silver, bronze, and copper glinted from neck and wrist, and earrings dangled from their ears. One of their number, a striking red-haired woman of noble bearing, wore a slender silver tore and a great silver spiral brooch with a glinting ruby in its center.

In all they appeared reassuringly regal but disturbingly alien. And Charis understood that she was in the presence of a nobility very much like her own-high-born, fiercely proud, and aristocratic-but of a far different, more primitive order.

In the midst of her scrutiny, Charis felt herself an object of curiosity. The fair-haired young man she had seen upon entering was studying her intently. Their eyes met.

In that brief instant Charis felt a kinship with the strangers- as if meeting countrymen after a years-long absence. The feeling passed like a shiver in the dark and was gone. She looked away.

The strange king, having been introduced to his satisfaction, stepped forward slowly. “I am Elphin,” he said simply, “lord and battlechief to the people of Gwynedd. I have come to pay my respects to the lord whose lands we are passing through.”

Avallach inclined his head in acceptance of the honor paid him. “Travelers are always welcome within these walls,” he replied. “Please stay with us if you can and allow me to share the bounty of my table.”

Without hesitation, Elphin drew a knife from his Belt and presented it to Avallach saying, “Your offer is most generous. Accept this token as a sign of our gratitude.” He handed the knife to Avallach. Charis glanced at it as her father turned it in his hands. The blade was iron and double-edged; the hilt was polished jet, into which had been worked pearl, in the same intricate, interwoven designs the people wore on their jewelry and clothing. It was a beautiful weapon, but clearly it was no ceremonial piece intended as a gift. The knife had been used; it was Elphin’s personal weapon.

Why this token? wondered Charis. Unless the man had nothing else to give. Yes, that was it. He had given his only item of value, perhaps his last remaining treasure-aside from the tore he wore on his neck. Still, the gift had been given freely and graciously, and Charis knew the significance of this act had not been lost on her father.

“You honor me, Lord Elphin,” replied Avallach, tucking the knife into his own Belt. “I hope your stay will prove beneficial to us both. We will talk of this later. But now, as this is my accustomed time to take refreshment, I ask you and your people to join me.”

At Avallach’s nod the seneschal departed, and a moment later the doors to the hall were thrown open to admit a half-dozen servants bearing trays of drink in bowls and chalices. The servants circulated among the visitors, serving them, and when each had received a cup, Elphin lifted his high and proclaimed in a loud voice, “Health to you, Lord Avallach, Fisher King of Ynys Witrin. And health to your enemy’s enemies!”