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beneath the roof of Maelwys' hall that wedding day.
O Wolf, it was a fine and happy day.
And it was a fine and enchanting night. My body was made for hers, and hers for mine. The delight of
our lovemaking could have cheered whole nations, I believe. Even now the smell of clean rushes and new
fleece, of beeswax candles and baking barley cakes makes my blood run bold in my veins.
We slipped unnoticed from the feast  or perhaps by common consent the celebrants chose not to
attend to our leaving  and flew to the courtyard, where Pelleas had my horse saddled and ready. I
took the reins from him and swung myself into the saddle, and reached down for Ganieda, and settled her
before me in the saddle, and, with my arms around her, I caught up the bundle Pelleas offered and
clattered from the courtyard.
No one gave chase, as is the usual custom: pretending that the woman has been carried off by a rival
clansman and so must be saved and avenged. It is a harmless game, but such pretence had no place in
our wedding. There was about our marriage such an air of Tightness and honour that merely to suggest
otherwise would have made vulgar a sacred thing.
The moon shone fair among a scattering of silver-gilt clouds. We rode to a nearby shepherd's bothy
which had been prepared the day before. It was a single-roomed hut of thick wattle-and-mud walls and
a roof of deep thatch  little more than a hearth and bed place. Maelwys' serving women had done a
good job of turning the rude room into a warm and inviting chamber for a young couple's first night. It
had been swept, and swept again, the hearthstone scoured, the walls washed with lime. Fresh rushes had
been cut, and fragrant heather for the bed, which was piled high with new fleeces and a coverlet of soft
otter fur. Candles had been set, the hearth prepared, and bouquets of spring flowers bunched and placed
around the room.
As it was a warm night, we lit a small fire in the hearth  only enough to cook the barley bannocks
which Ganieda would serve to me for our ritual first meal together. In the glimmering firelight, the
shepherd's bothy could have been a palace, and the clay bowl in which Ganieda mixed the water and
barley meal a chalice of gold. Ganieda might have been the enchantress of the wood, and I the wandering
hero entrapped by my love for her.
I sat cross-legged on the bed and watched her deft movements. When the hearthstone was hot enough,
she shaped the little cakes and placed them on the stone. We did not speak all the while, it was as if we
were no longer ourselves alone; no, we were all the young people who had ever loved and married,
joining life to life, the latest in a living chain stretching back countless eons to that first hearth, that first
coupling. There were no words for this moment.
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The barley cakes cooked quickly, and Ganieda placed them gingerly in the gathered hem of her mantle
and brought them to me. I took one, broke it, and fed her with half even as I ate half myself. She chewed
solemnly and then turned to lift the cup she had poured out while the bannocks were baking.
I held the cup to her lips while she drank, then drained the warm, sweet wine hi a single gulp. Then the
cup clattered to the floor and her arms were around my neck and her lips were on mine and I was
tumbling backwards onto the bed, Ganieda's body full upon me, the scent of her silky skin filling my
head.
And then there was only the night and our passion and, after, the sweet deep darkness of sleep in one
another's arms.
I woke once before morning and heard a light whistle on the breeze. I crept from the bed and looked
out of the door to see, outlined in the light of the sinking moon, Gwendolau, astride his horse. He rode at
a respectful distance, keeping watch over us through the night.
I slipped back beneath the coverlet and into Ganieda's embrace, and fell asleep once more to the rhythm
of my wife's soft breathing in slumber.
TEN
Deep in the black heart of Celyddon, with wolves and stags and grunting boars for company, does
Myrddin abide. Is he alive or is he dead? God alone knows.
O happy Wolf, look into the fire and tell us what you see.
Ah, the steel men. Yes, I see them, too. All in steel from helm to heel. Big men, fearless men. Bristling
with spears like an ash forest. See the knotted muscles of their arms; see the quick, deadly movements of
their strong hands; see the fearless thrust of their jaws. They know that this day's light might be their last,
but they are not afraid.
That one! See him? Look at the span of his shoulders, Wolf. See how he sits his saddle  as if he was
part of the beast he rides. A magnificent man. Cai, yes, that is his name: a name that kindles fear in the
heart of the foeman.
Here is another! See him, Wolf? A champion among champions he is. His cloak is blood red and his
shield bears the cross of the Christ. His is a name the harpers will sing for a thousand years: Bedwyr,
Bright Avenger.
And those two there! Oh, look  have you ever seen such dread purpose, such grim grace? Sons of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]