“But here… here it begins again,” Taliesin replied.

“We are each given only one life, singer.” And with that Charis turned her horse and started back to the palace.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“We can make ourselves secure. we have weapons; we can raise an army if need be,” said Belyn earnestly as he paced the length of Avallach’s chamber.

Maildun was quick to side with Belyn. “Listen to him, Father. We can defend ourselves. Besides, the trouble here in the south is not as bad as it is in the north and may never be. There is no good reason to be giving land to these… these Cymry barbarians.”

Avallach raised himself on his litter, shaking his head wearily. “You still do not understand. I give the land for the sake of goodness, not out of fear and not in hope of gain.”

“It was always for gain,” pointed out Belyn.

“Yes,” Avallach admitted, “it was-at first. And it was a mistake.”

“That singer has bewitted you.” Maildun’s accusation brought Avallach to his feet.

“We talked and I was persuaded,” said Avallach, grasping the canopy frame for support. “Whatever you think of these people, they are an intelligent, honorable race.”

“They are little better,” Belyn scoffed, “than the cattle thieves and hill-haunters that plague us round about.”

“Believe me, Father; the only honor they understand is a dagger in the throat or a spear in the back.” Maildun crossed his arms over his chest; his sneer defied anyone to dispute him.

“Our future, if we are to have a future,” warned Avallach, his voice quiet thunder, “lies in learning to live peaceably with them.”

“Your mind is made up?”

“It is.”

“Then it is no use arguing further. Give your land to anyone you choose. Give everything to that mumbling priest of yours for all I care. But, by Cybel, I will have no part in it! They will not have so much as a stone from me.”

“Belyn,” Avallach replied gently, “speak no disrespect of the priest. He is a holy man, and I have become a follower of the true God.”

“What next?” cried Maildun in disbelief.

“That explains some of it, I suppose,” mocked Belyn. “All this talk about giving and goodness and peace. But I still do not understand why you think this serves any useful purpose.”

“Good has its own purposes. At any rate, I do not ask you to understand.”

“Do as you will then, Avallach. Why even seek our advice? “

“I seek harmony among us,” the Fisher King said simply.

“That you shall not have,” snapped Belyn, “as long as you persist in this.” He raised a hand to Maildun, who stood scowling at his father. “Come, Maildun, we have finished here. There is nothing more to say.” They started from the chamber.

At that moment Charis entered. Taliesin stepped through the curtain beside her. Avallach took one look at his daughter’s stained, torn garment. “What has happened, Charis?”

“It is nothing,” she answered, taking the angry expressions of her brother and uncle. “I was attacked while riding.”

“You see!” bellowed Maildun. “And you still want to give land to these people? Sooner extend your hand to a viper, Father-you will receive more thanks for your trouble.”

“There can be no peace between us,” uttered Belyn darkly. He glared at Taliesin with open and unrestrained contempt. “While you contemplate peace, they devise schemes against you.”

Charis turned on Belyn. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying this would never have happened if Avallach had not inflamed them with talk of land,” Belyn answered. “I was wrong to agree to it in the first place.”

“Do you think my people were somehow involved in this attack?” Taliesin took a step toward Belyn.

“Is that what you believe?” demanded Charis. “Is it?”

“It is obvious, sister,” Maildun said smoothly. “You are still shaken and confused or you would see it too.”

“You are confused, brother!” Charis turned on him, eyes ablaze. “I tried to escape, but there were too many. If Taliesin had not come to my aid, I would have been killed or carried off. He saved my life.”

“There were seven of them-Irish raiders,” said Taliesin.

“Irish, Cymry-what difference? These tribes are all alike,” Maildun retorted, “all blood-crazed barbarians. Truth be known, he attacked her himself!”

“Liar!” hissed Charis.

“He is a fool who cannot tell friend from foe,” Taliesin said coolly.

“Fool, am I?” Maildun started toward Taliesin, fists clenched, jaw outthrust.

“Stay, Maildun! You are put in your place. The bard has answered truthfully.” Avallach inclined his head toward Taliesin. “You shall be rewarded for saving my daughter’s life.”

“I claim no reward, lord. Neither will I accept any.” He made a stiff bow to Charis. “Having seen the lady safely home, I will leave now.” He turned and moved toward the curtained doorway.

“Wait outside but a little,” Avallach called after him. “I will go with you.”

“After all that has happened, do you still insist on carrying out this ill-advised plan of yours?” snarled Maildun when Taliesin had gone.

“All that has happened has served to harden my resolve,” Avallach replied.

“Are you so anxious to give your realm away?” said Belyn. “It is getting dark; it will be night soon. Wait until tomorrow at least. There will be time enough to do it then.”

“Having resolved to do a good thing,” Avallach answered, stepping toward the curtain, “I am loath to delay even a moment. No, I will go at once. What is more, I want you to accompany me.” Belyn and Maildun gaped in disBelief. “Yes, we will all go,” continued Avallach. “Whatever you think about the land, we have an insult to atone and gratitude to express.”

So the Fisher King and Taliesia, with Charis, Maildun, and Belyn, rode through the twilight to the place where Cuall had set up camp-by a stream on a small meadow in the lee of a nearby hill.

On their approach to camp, the riders were met at the stream by sentries. “Hail, Taliesin! You have returned at last.

Your father is waiting for you,” the sentry, one of Elphin’s remaining warriors, informed them.

A huge fire was burning brightly, orange flames flinging back the gathering gloom, and from crackling caldrons set in the coals around the outer edge came the smell of herbed broth and meat in bubbling stew. Crude shelters, hastily constructed out of branches and hides, ringed the fire. Elphin and Rhonwyn emerged from one of these as the riders dismounted.

“Lord Avallach,” said Elphin in surprise. “We did not think to see you again.”

“Lord Elphin, Lady Rhonwyn,” replied Avallach courteously, “it is not our intention to intrude where our presence is not wanted. But events have led us a different course since last we met. I wish to speak to you, if you will hear me out.”

Elphin turned to his wife. “Fetch us a horn of beer, if there is any left.” To his guests he said, “It is early yet. Have you eaten?”

“We came from the palace straightaway,” answered Tal-iesin. “We will eat together.”

“A meal would be a kindness,” Avallach said. He drew the crisp night air deep into his lungs. “Ahh! The ride has done me good, I think. A short time ago I was abed with my injury; now I feel as hale as ever.”

“Welcome then,” said Elphin, and he called for torches to be brought and placed around his ox-hide hut. Rhonwyn came with a horn of beer for the guests and one for the Cymry.

“My lords,” she said, “sit and discuss your affairs. I will bring food when it is ready.” She returned to the fire and the other women working there. The Cymry gathered nearby watched closely but unobtrusively; without seeming to take any notice at all, they nevertheless knew all of what took place and most of what was said.

As they settled in a circle, Hafgan and Cuall arrived. Elphin made places for them and passed his horn. “Join us,” he told them. “Lord Avallach has come to speak with us and I have sworn to hear him out.”