CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

When the feast celebrating merlin’s birth was over, the lords and chiefs departed, taking the news of the infant king’s birth with them back to the remote hills and valleys of Dyfed. Blaise and the other druids lingered a day longer, making ready to return to the southlands where Hafgan waited for the news they would bring.

On the morning they were to leave, Charis came to Blaise and said, “Please, if it is no trouble to you, would you bear a message to my father, King Avallach, at Ynys Witrin?”

“It is the least thing I can do,” replied Blaise. “What would you have me tell him?”

“Tell my father that I have born him an heir. Tell him that I-that we-wish to come home and that we remain here awaiting a sign of his blessing.”

“Lady, I will tell him,” promised Blaise.

Taliesin joined them and they walked out into the courtyard where the others were waiting. “Farewell, Blaise, my brother,” Taliesin said, embracing him warmly. “Greet my father and mother for me. Tell them their grandson thrives and will soon be coming home.”

Charis considered her husband’s words. What did he know?

“You will see your father again,” Taliesin told Charis as the druids departed. “And you will know the pleasure of giving your child into the arms of the one who held you as a child.”

The weeks passed and spring seeped into the land. The soft rains came and the hills grew green again; plants quickened and put out shoots, branches budded, streams swelled and filled their banks to overflowing. Charis gave herself to the nurture of her child and to restoring her own health. She and Taliesin spent long hours together talking, and though she longed to ask him the meaning of what had taken place in Pendaran’s hall the night of the celebration, something prevented her-something about the words he had spoken and the way he had presented their child, like an offering, a sacrifice…

Through gray days of wind and rain, through days of blue skies and sunlight like thick pale butter, Charis waited for word from her father and grew restless waiting. But Taliesin seemed content to wait forever; he continued to sing for Lord Pendaran and in the town as well, so that many of the common folk heard him. And it was whispered about that the Lord of the Red Sword entertained a king and queen of the Fair Folk in his house, and these beings had promised great riches to all in Maridunum and beyond.

Spring hastened toward summer, and Charis ever and again turned her eyes to the road that ran down the hill from the villa, hoping to see a messenger from her father. One day as she was walking Merlin in the courtyard, Henwas came to her. “Lady,” he said, “a man has come looking for you.”

She turned quickly. “From my father?”

Henwas shrugged. “He did not say.”

She hurried from the courtyard to the hall where she met a man wrapped head to foot in a cloak. His back was to her as he stood just inside the door. “I am told you are looking for me,” she said. “You have found me.”

The man turned and her heart sank, for she thought she would know the man, but the messenger was a stranger. “You are called Charis?” he asked.

“I am.”

“I bring this for you.” He reached inside his cloak to a leather pouch and withdrew a black feather.

Staring at the feather, Charis said, “This is all? Nothing more?”

“Nothing else was given me,” replied the man, extending the feather to her.

“King Avallach gave this to you himself?” Charis took the feather.

“The king himself,” confirmed the messenger.

“Who are you?” asked Charis. “I do not know you.”

“There is no reason why you should know me,” said the man. “I come from the east, from Logres, but have traveled much of late. I was two nights at Ynys Witrin and when the king learned that I was traveling north he gave me the feather, saying ‘Give this to my daughter, Charis, who is in Mari-dunum.’ “ He shrugged casually. “I have had business at Caer Gwent and Caer Legionis or I would have come sooner.”

“How was the king when you saw him?”

“I was not with him long, but he received me courteously-although his wound pained him and he was made to lie down the while.”

Charis nodded and spun the feather between her fingers. “Thank you,” she said. “I am grateful for your service and would repay you in some way.”

“I have been paid already,” replied the messenger, inclining his head. “If there is nothing more, I will leave you now.” With that he turned and was quickly gone.

Charis could not understand the meaning of the black feather. When Taliesin returned from riding with Lord Pen-daran and his sons, she told him about the messenger and the token he had given her. “Here it is,” she said, handing the feather to him. “Just as he gave it to me.”

Taliesin grimaced when he saw it and when he raised his eyes, his smile was forced and tight. “You see? Here is the sign you asked for.”

“A black feather?”

“A raven’s feather. It is said among my people that a man knows he must die when he hears a raven croak outside his house on a night without a moon. The raven’s feather is a symbol of mourning.”

Charis shuddered. “How can you say that I asked for this?”

“It may be that Avallach is telling you that he is in mourning. He misses you and mourns your absence. Time and brother Dafyd have done their work; Avallach is reconciled to our marriage. He is sorry and wants you to come back.”

“If that is so, why did he send it with a stranger? Why not with one of our own people?”

“That we will have to ask him when we see him,” replied Taliesin. “A day which is not far off.”

Charis had been so distracted by the feather, the meaning of Taliesin’s words were just reaching her. “Then we can go home?”

“Indeed, we will leave as soon as provisions can be made ready.”

“Tomorrow then!” exclaimed Charis, “We leave tomorrow!” She squeezed his hand and called for Rhuna, and the two began making preparations.

Lord Pendaran appeared sorrowful when Taliesin told him about the message from King Avallach. His smile sagged at the corners and the light dimmed in his eyes. “I have long known this day was coming,” he said, nodding slowly. “But that does not make it easier to bear. I arn sorry to see you go, my friend, though I know you must.”

“That was not your attitude on our first meeting,” Taliesin reminded him.

Pendaran’s smile became grim and he waved the comment aside with his hand. “That was a different Gleddyvrudd, I tell you, than the one you see before you now.”

“I know,” replied Taliesin, clapping a hand to Pendaran’s shoulder, “but it is good to be reminded of the past from time to time lest we become arrogant.”

“Ah, you see? You are my better self, Taliesin, my soul’s true guide.”

“The Light,” said Taliesin. “Look to the Light and serve Him, Lord Pendaran, and He will be to you a better guide than any mortal man.”

Pendaran shook his head sadly. “It is with a heavy heart that I see you go.”

“We are not gone yet.”

“No, but soon enough. Still, I will not let you go until I have your promise that you will come back to stay once more beneath this roof.”

“Let it be so,” agreed Taliesin.

The rest of the day, while Rhuna and Heilyn gathered provisions for the journey, Charis packed their few Belongings. She went about her preparations with a lightness of heart that she had not felt for many months, saying over and over to herself, “I am going home… Home…” And it seemed that the word had suddenly begun to live for her again, after being so long dead.

Now and again she would find herself standing beside the wicker cradle where little Merlin lay. “We are going home, Merlin,” she told him, ruffling his downy-soft hair as he slept, his tiny hand pressed against his cheek, fingers curled tight in a baby fist.