An echo in time atlantis, p.50
An Echo in Time: Atlantis, page 50
‘But a recent incident …’ He attempted to enlighten her, when her fingers on his lips put a stop to it.
‘Shhh … It matters not. All that will change once we art wed,’ Bridgit explained in a voice that brooked no contradiction. ‘I intend to keep thee so occupied, even thy Kingdom shall scarce get a look in.’
Her demeanour became all amiable again, and Rhun thought he’d best get out of there before he did something he’d regret. ‘I shall see thee at Arwystli in four days then.’ He claimed one more kiss for the road, and stepped away. ‘I do love thee, Bridgit. Thou art my joy, my passion and my treasure. My peace, my dreams, my hope and my pleasure art all embodied in thee.’
Bridgit stood speechless long after the Prince had faded from sight. His words lingering in her mind were more eloquent than any she’d imagined he’d say. How did he just come and go as he pleased, like a merlin would, and enchant otherworldly creatures to his aid?
I must learn the ways of the Otherworld, if I am to keep him intrigued, she decided. I want to be the only Goddess in his eyes.
31
LOVE, BIRTH, LIFE
AND DEATH
Awedding celebration the like of that being staged at Arwystli was unprecedented in
Britain. Leaders from all four corners of the land would be attending.
For it had been young Prince Blain’s quest to invite the leader of the Pictish to take up a place on the High Council. An honour Cailtram, their leader, was a little wary to accept. The High Council’s influence extended the whole breadth and length of the land, and a position therein made more sense than trying to oppose them. But after centuries of bloodshed between his people and the Scots, Cailtram was not too sure how he and Fergus MacErc would exist together in an alliance.
However, as Ongen and Eormenric of Mercia had signed the treaty after centuries of warring with the Britons, Cailtram agreed to attend the celebration and discuss the issue.
Both Rhun and Blain were crowned in their respective capital cities the day after their return. The people who had attended Rhun’s ceremony left Degannwy the day after it to attend the wedding of the century in Arwystli.
Any ill-will the lads had borne one another faded in the midst of an excited exchange of stories and pats on the back. Rhun disappeared to the dining hall to feast with his friends the moment they arrived in the host city.
Katren had accommodated all the brides in the large tower room for the night. This resulted in their husbands-to-be, who were a little worse for mead, serenading them with sonnets and songs from the courtyard in the middle of the night. Which, in the end, was broken up by Sir Tiernan and Sir Angus, in the hope that those staying at the household might get some sleep prior to the four days of celebration that were to follow.
The morning of the wedding was as fresh, clear, and warm as any could have hoped.
Tory was up at the crack of dawn, assisting Katren to prepare the girls, the banquet room, and the courtyard where the wedding was taking place.
The mingling smells of all the food cooking in the kitchen made Tory’s stomach turn, and she had to pause a moment to control the nausea. And so it begins. She breathed the fresh air wafting through the servants’
door that led to the herb and vegetable garden.
‘Art thou alright?’ Katren backed up a few paces to check on her friend.
‘I am fine.’ Tory forced a smile. She’d not experienced any morning sickness last time round, and on today of all days this was most inconvenient.
The Queen of Gwynedd’s face had gone as white as a sheet. As Katren had given birth to three children herself, this was a look she recognised all too well.
‘Thou art pregnant,’ she gasped, holding a hand over her mouth.
Everyone was bound to find out sometime, so Tory nodded to confess that this was indeed true.
‘Oh Tory, thou must be overjoyed!’ Katren was excited for her, though she kept her voice to a discreet level.
‘Oh, I am thrilled.’ The unrest in her stomach subsided; thus Tory moved out of the draught from the open door.
‘And where dost thou think thou art going?’ Katren demanded to know in a concerned fashion.
‘To get on with …’
‘Oh no, thou will not … thou should be resting.’
Katren pulled her up.
‘Do not start with me,’ Tory warned.
Katren kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze to subdue her. ‘If thou wants to do something useful, go and see how our boys art faring. I shall take care of everything else.’
As this task was well away from the food, Tory was persuaded to comply with Katren’s wish.
Tory had thought the four brides, all in their different gowns of pure white, a sight to behold. But viewing the four grooms, clean-shaven and dressed in their best, was even more of a novelty. Here they stood, Britain’s finest, at their finest; she was so very proud of them all. As the four lads had each other to lean on for support, last-minute marriage jitters were kept to a minimum and all were keen to proceed.
Tory accompanied her four masters to the flower-adorned altar, where Taliesin awaited to perform the ceremony. All the guests had gathered in the courtyard, creating a great gaggle of rowdy goodwill. The Queen of Gwynedd, after kissing all her lads for good luck, took up her place behind them.
Rhun had asked Blain to be his best man, and vice-versa. So, too, were Bryce and Eormenric fulfilling this role for each other. Hence they all stood about reassuring one another, until the crowd hushed and all eyes turned to the huge entrance doors.
Katren sneaked up beside Tory, gripping hold of her hand, as Selwyn and Cai began to strum at their harp strings and the doors parted wide.
Vortipor led his daughter down the aisle first, followed by Angus and Javotte, then Ongen and Aella.
But it was young Prince Owen who led Vanora to her betrothed, being her oldest living male relative who was not getting wed. One by one they kissed the girls goodbye, handing them over to their intended.
Vortipor, the first in line, gave Rhun a stern glare as he did so, whereas Owen, the last, was happy just to score a free kiss.
Selwyn and Cai assisted Taliesin during the service, which had been written by the High Merlin especially for the occasion. Katren was reduced to tears, of course. She clung to Owen whom she knew she would also lose thus before too long. As Vortipor and Angus were also a mite teary-eyed at parting with their only daughters, Tory stood between them gripping their hands in her own.
Only half of the original masters still dwelt in the land of the living, but a whole new generation of leaders and warriors had been born.
As Tory cast her sights over the gathering, Pict beside Scot, Saxon beside Briton, she realised this was what they’d all fought so hard for. This had been the vision of that first circle of twelve, and today that dream had become a reality.
Once the hullabaloo of the wedding had died down, and all had returned to their respective kingdoms and estates, the isle of Britain resumed some normality.
Eormenric and Vanora returned with Ongen to Londinium with abundant supplies to see them through the cold seasons. Cailtram, having signed the pact, left in the company of his sworn enemy, Fergus MacErc, whose troops were helping to lug and herd the Pict’s winter stores the great distance back to Alban. Sir Angus and Sir Lucus remained at Arwystli, in the service of King Blain and his Queen, Javotte. As Sir Bryce had won the quest for Gwynedd’s champion at the wedding, he and his bride settled at Degannwy. Here Bryce finally assumed his father’s old position at the side of Gwynedd’s King, Rhun. In addition, as Prince Bryce was clearly the finest warrior in Britain, and who in all probability would never be King, Tory nominated him to assume her role of sensei to the circle of twelve, once she had departed for the twentieth century.
Come winter, all of the twelve masters gathered at Degannwy to perfect their art, as they did every year.
This was the last time this assembly would be overseen by the sensei who had begun the circle of twelve. Thus they worked hard and played little; still, a good time was had by all.
Tory’s belly expanded with every passing month, but she was not alone. By the time the masters disbanded to resume their normal duties, all four of the newly-wed women were with child. And, not to be outdone, Rhun and Bridgit’s babe was the first due.
Hence, even after the birth of her own child, Rhun managed to keep Tory around a while longer to see her first grandchild into the world.
Her daughter, whom Tory had aptly named
Rhiannon after the War Goddess, was not at all the placid, obliging baby Rhun had been; she was full of fire and energy. But, by the same token, she was a happy soul, and everyone, especially Rhun, adored her.
Rhiannon was dark-haired and darker-eyed, like her brother, with beautiful ivory skin. She had her mother’s looks, however, and was just as sensitive to Tory’s moods as Rhun was.
A month rolled by before they greeted a new heir to the throne of Gwynedd, whom Rhun named Cadwell, meaning war-defense. He was of fairer hair than his father, and his eyes a pale shade of golden brown.
Tory wished, in retrospect, that she’d left before the new prince had been born. It broke her heart to think she’d miss him growing up — and all the other babes not yet born. Still, all the affairs of state had been seen to, Mahaud had been destroyed, and the leaders of the land were united and at peace. The time when Tory must leave the Dark Age for good, drew ever nearer.
It was clearly understood by one and all that Tory would not be making a dramatic exit. In fact she’d already said most of her goodbyes.
Katren had been up to visit as soon as Rhiannon had been born, but had returned to Arwystli to await the birth of Javotte’s child soon after. This farewell had not been an easy one; their friendship spanned two decades and had seen some phenomenal events.
Yet the Queen Mother of Powys had two
grandchildren on the way. Tory felt sure she would barely have time to notice her missing. Katren had sworn blind, through her tears, that this would never be the case.
All Tory’s masters had been prepared for her departure for months. She would just slip into the shadows, as Maelgwn had, no sad farewells, no tears.
Tory did pop down to see Vortipor, as promised, to drink one last toast of fine Roman wine in honour of their grandson and old times. She decided she was leaving the alliance in good hands; they didn’t call him the Protector for no reason.
Bryce had threatened suicide if Tory didn’t see him before she left. Thus it was that late on the day of her departure, before she confronted her son, Tory sent Sir Tiernan to fetch Bryce to her chambers.
‘It be time.’ Bryce knew it before he’d even looked at her. ‘Nay, please tell me I am wrong.’
Tory had never seen Bryce weep before, not even at his father’s funeral. Yet he did so now, down before her on one knee, begging her not to go.
‘Bryce … Bryce, listen to me.’ She encouraged him to look her in the eye. ‘This be thy destiny, my friend …
thou hast sought it, and thou hast found it.’
‘Nay,’ he pleaded. ‘I cannot stand that I shall not see thee again.’
‘But Bryce, thou will.’ She crouched beside him. ‘I shall go on and on, and thou shall reincarnate. And even though thou may not recognise me, I shall know thee … and I will find thee again, I swear it.’ Tory crossed her heart and held up her hand in promise.
As the knight calmed, he startled Tory with a kiss.
‘What was that for?’ she laughed in the after-shock.
‘I have wanted to do that since the day I met thee.’
He shrugged coyly. ‘I figured it was now or never.’
‘Oh Bryce!’ She smothered him with a huge hug.
‘Thou art good for my ego.’
‘Thou art not going yet, surely!’ Rhun stormed into the room, slamming the door closed. ‘Rhiannon be not old enough for time travel.’
‘Really, Rhun.’ She brushed off his argument with a steely gaze. ‘It will not hurt her.’
‘But I am not —’
‘Oh, hush up, and come here.’ Tory was determined there was not going to be a scene. ‘I have something for thee.’ She wandered over to the bed to retrieve Maelgwn’s sword and scabbard. ‘I think thy father would have wanted thee to have this.’
‘Nay!’ Rhun protested. ‘Father wanted thee to have it, for protection.’
‘Well, then.’ She smiled, handing it to him all the same. ‘Thou can bring it to me when thou comes.’
He admired the mighty weapon, as he had many times when it had hung at his father’s side. ‘Oh, Mother.’ He embraced her suddenly. ‘I long for that time so much … promise me I shall find thee. Promise me Rhiannon and thee will wait.’
‘I promise, thee … sweet prince.’ She kissed his forehead, her voice faltering as she suppressed tears. ‘But thou art a King now,’ she sniffled, holding him at arm’s length and forcing a smile. ‘And what a fine King thou dost make.’ She moved to collect the basket in which Rhiannon lay, that had once served as Rhun’s time capsule many years ago. ‘Be wise, my beloved. Be safe, be strong, be truthful and be just. But most of all … be happy.’ Tory blew them both a kiss and vanished in a flood of tears.
She materialized in the entrance foyer of Taliesin’s labyrinth, where her chariot awaited, to find Taliesin and Selwyn in attendance.
‘Damn it!’ Tory cursed out loud. ‘Why did thou have to be here! I cannot say goodbye to thee!’ She was on the verge of collapsing into an emotional mess.
‘Then let us just say … ate logo,’ Taliesin suggested with a huge beaming smile, that made Tory catch her breath. ‘After all, where dost goodbye end and hello begin? It be all just an illusion anyway.’
She set down the basket beside her and ran to embrace him. ‘I do love thee, Taliesin. Only the Goddess knows how I shall miss thee. Catch us up quickly.’ She closed her eyes as she squeezed him, absorbing his lovely energy for the last time in a long time.
‘Majesty?’ Selwyn politely called for her attention.
‘This be a little something I wrote for thee.’ He presented her with a scrolled parchment, sealed with wax. ‘I would like thee to read it, once thou art settled in thy new home.’ The lump in Selwyn’s throat was near choking him, and the tears were streaming down his face. ‘I owe thee more than …’ The rest wouldn’t come, and he was thankful when Tory held him and put an end to his fruitless search for words.
‘It be I who owes thee, Selwyn. What would I have done without thee?’ She rocked him in her arms a moment; she was the only one who’d ever comforted him thus. ‘Cry if thou must for parting is hell. But life still goes on, so party as well.’ She let him go, and gave him a nudge and a wink of encouragement.
‘Aye, Majesty, I will.’ He melted to a smile, chin up.
Tory took a deep breath, finding herself at a poignant moment.
‘Now then. I took the liberty of giving thy transport the once-over,’ Taliesin advised as he walked her to the chariot. It was parked right beside its future self which he’d brought back with him from his travels. ‘And I note that the crystal that operates the thought amplification drive be cracked. Thou really should not try to operate complex machinery when thou art emotionally distraught.’
Tory rolled her eyes at this; when wasn’t she emotionally distraught lately? ‘Well …’ She placed Rhiannon’s basket inside their vehicle. ‘As far as I am concerned, it only need make one more trip.’
‘Indeed.’ The High Merlin smiled a peculiar smile.
‘Best get Myrddin to take a closer look at the other end, ay? Just to be safe.’ He winked. ‘Nothing must happen to this treasure, or all that I have just done will not be possible. Thou and Rhun will be trapped in the twentieth century, and Maelgwn and myself shall fall into a bitter feud.’
Tory motioned him to hush; she got the picture. ‘It sounds as if thou hast lived it all before.’
‘Another time, another place, another dimension.’
He was rather pleased about that. ‘So, will thou be heading for the day thou left?’
‘Heavens no!’ Tory had to laugh. ‘I think that meeting his babe two days after conception, might be a bit much for Miles to cope with.’ She jumped into the pilot’s seat, making sure Rhiannon was comfortable and secure. ‘I shall aim for the birth of Brian’s child, and see how we go from there.’
‘Well, it be thy choice, of course.’
As the Merlin took a step backwards, there was that odd smile again. Tory was tempted to enquire after its meaning, but she knew that would only prove a waste of time. ‘I leave the kindred in thy very capable hands, gentlemen.’ Tory’s mind focused on the future, yet her sights remained fixed on the two merlins until their forms became obscured by the ethers of her flight.
Tory arrived in Myrddin’s cave at Dinas Emrys in a shower of sparks. She was quick to get Rhiannon to a safe distance, as the short-circuiting drive mechanism shot electrical currents over the nose cone of the vehicle.
When all the activity had died down, leaving smoke billowing from the transport’s casing, Tory opened up the hatch of the chariot to take a closer look. On this trip, the emotional stress had proved too much; the crystal that was the nucleus of the drive system had been completely shattered. ‘Dad is going to be pissed.’
She gave a heavy sigh.
Actually, she was rather surprised that Myrddin was not here to meet them. But, no matter, she would find him soon enough.
‘Come on.’ She retrieved the basket containing her sleeping babe. ‘Let us first find thy father.’
No sooner had Tory conjured up a picture of the cottage that stood where the house at Aberffraw once had, than she was standing before it.
‘What?’ She couldn’t believe what she was seeing; the cottage was up for sale. ‘Miles would never sell this place …’ Tory strode towards the front door in a daze.
‘It’s belonged to his family for centuries.’
After knocking several times at both the front and back doors, Tory accepted the fact that the place was deserted. ‘We’d best find thy uncle,’ she commented to Rhiannon. ‘Maybe he can shed some light on this.’
