The Castle of Llyr Part 2

CHAPTER 4.

SHADOWS.

THE FEAST THAT EVENING was surely the merriest the castle had ever seen. Kaw, perched on the back of Taran's chair, bobbed up and down and looked as if the banquet had been arranged entirely in his honor. King Rhuddlum beamed with good spirits; the talk and laughter of the guests rang through the Great Hall. Behind the long table, crowded with Queen Teleria's ladies of the court, Magg flitted back and forth, snapping his fingers and whispering commands to servitors bearing endless dishes of food and flagons of drink. For Taran it was a waking nightmare; he sat silent and uneasy, his repast untouched.

"You needn't look so gloomy," said Eilonwy. "After all, you aren't the one who has to stay here. If I'm trying to make the best of things, I must say you're not exactly helpful. I want to remind you I'm still not speaking to you after the way you behaved today."

Without waiting to hear Taran's confused protests, Eilonwy tossed her head and began chattering to Prince Rhun. Taran bit his lip. He felt as though he were shouting a voiceless warning, while Eilonwy, all unwitting, raced gaily toward the brink of a cliff.

At the end of the feasting, Fflewddur tuned his harp, stepped to the middle of the Hall, and sang his new lay. Taran listened without pleasure, although he realized it was the best Fflewddur had yet composed. When the bard had done, and King Rhuddlum had begun to yawn, the guests rose from their seats at the table. Taran plucked Fflewddur's sleeve and drew him aside.

"I've been thinking about the stables," Taran said anxiously. "No matter what Magg says, it's not a fitting place for you to sleep. I'll speak to King Rhuddlum and I'm sure he'll order Magg to give you back your chamber in the castle." Taran hesitated. "I-I think somehow it would be better if we were all together. We are strangers here, and know nothing of the ways of this place."

"Great Belin, don't give yourself a moment's concern about that," replied the bard. "For my part, I prefer the stables. Indeed, that's one reason I go wandering: to get away from stuffy, dreary castles. Besides," he added behind his hand, "it would lead to trouble with Magg. And if he pushes me beyond endurance, there will be sword-play-a Fflam is hotheaded-which is hardly courteous behavior from a guest. No, no, we shall all be fine and meet again in the morning." So saying, Fflewddur shouldered his harp, waved good night, and made his way from the Hall.

"Something tells me we should keep an eye on the castle," Taran said to Gurgi. He put a forefinger under Kaw's feet and set the bird on Gurgi's shoulder, where the crow immediately began running his beak through Gurgi's matted hair. "Stay close to Eilonwy's chamber," he went on. "I'll join you soon. Keep Kaw with you and send him to me if anything seems amiss."

Gurgi nodded. "Yes, yes," he whispered. "Loyal Gurgi will stand with watchful waitings. He will guard dreamful drowsings of n.o.ble Princess."

Unnoticed among the departing guests, Taran walked to the courtyard. Hoping to find Gwydion, he strode quickly toward the stables. Stars filled the clear night sky and a bright moon hung above the crags of Mona. In the stables, Taran discovered no trace of the Prince of Don, but came only upon Fflewddur curled up in the straw, his arm flung around his harp and already snoring peacefully.

Taran turned once more to the castle, which had by now fallen into darkness. He stood a moment, wondering where else he might seek.

"Hullo, hullo!" Prince Rhun burst from around a corner at such a rate he nearly sent Taran sprawling. "Still awake, are you? So am I! My mother says it's good for me to take a little stroll before sleeping. I suppose you're doing the same? Very good! We shall walk along together?"

"That we shall not!" Taran retorted. Now, of all times, he had no wish to be hindered by the f.e.c.kless Prince. "I-I seek the tailors," he added quickly.

"Where are they lodged?"

"You're looking for tailors?" Rhun asked. "How odd! Whatever for?"

"My jacket," Taran hurriedly answered. "It-it fits me badly. I must ask them to fix it."

"In the middle of the night?" asked Rhun, his moon face puzzled. "Now, that really is surprising!" He pointed toward a shadowed side. of the castle. "Their chambers are down there. But I shouldn't think they'd be in a humor to st.i.tch well if you rouse them up out of a sleep. Tailors can be touchy, you know. I advise you to wait until morning."

"No, it must be done now," Taran said, impatient to be rid of Rhun.

The Prince shrugged, wished him a cheerful good night, and trotted off again. Taran made his way toward a cl.u.s.ter of sheds beyond the stable. His search there was also in vain. Discouraged, he had decided to rejoin Gurgi when he stopped suddenly. A figure was moving quickly across the courtyard, not toward the main portal but to the farthest angle of the heavy stone wall.

Could Eilonwy have slipped away from Gurgi? Taran was about to call out. Then, fearful of waking the castle, he hurried after the figure. An instant later it seemed to disappear completely. Taran pressed on. At the wall he stumbled upon a narrow opening, barely wide enough to squeeze through. Taran plunged through the curtain of ivy concealing it and found himself beyond the castle on a rocky slope overlooking the harbor.

The figure, Taran suddenly realized, was not Eilonwy-too tall, the gait different. He caught his breath as the cloaked shape turned once for a furtive glance at the castle and the moonlight glittered for a moment over its features.

It was Magg.

Spider-like, the Chief Steward was rapidly picking his way down a path. In a surge of fear and suspicion, Taran clambered blindly over jagged stones, trying his best to be both swift and silent. Despite the clear night the way was difficult to follow, boulders loomed to catch him unawares and break his stride. He longed for the light of Eilonwy's bauble as he scrambled headlong after Magg toward the sleeping harbor.

Magg had come to level ground well ahead of Taran, and was scuttling along the sea wall until, at the far end, he reached a huge pile of rocks. With surprising agility the Chief Steward swung himself up, crawled over, and once more dropped out of sight. Casting caution aside, fearful he would lose track of Magg, Taran broke into a run. Along the wall moonbright water lapped and whispered. A shadow moved for an instant among the stilted piers. In alarm Taran checked his pace, then hastened on. His eyes were playing tricks. Even the rocks themselves seemed to rise before him like crouching, threatening beasts.

Gritting his teeth, Taran climbed the dark barrier of rocks. Below, the water churned in glittering eddies and foamed among the stones. The surf rang in his ears as he hauled himself to the crest. There he clung, not daring to follow farther. Magg had stopped not many paces beyond, at the edge of a narrow spit of land. Taran saw him kneel and make a rapid motion. In another instant a light flared.

The Chief Steward had lit a torch and now raised it overhead, moving the flickering flame slowly back and forth. As Taran watched, fearful and puzzled, a tiny point of orange light glowed far seaward. This answering signal, Taran judged, could come only from a s.h.i.+p, though he could make out nothing of the vessel's shape or distance. Magg waved the torch again, in a different pattern. The light from the s.h.i.+p repeated it, then winked out. Magg thrust his torch into the black water where it sputtered and died; he turned and strode quickly toward the tumble of rocks where Taran lay. Taran, left blinking in the sudden darkness, sought to clamber down before Magg should come upon him, but could find no foothold. In panic he groped for a jutting stone below him, slipped, caught vainly for another one. He could hear Magg scrabbling up the far side and let himself fall among the rocks. Wincing at the sharp pain, he tried to hide in the shadows. Magg's head had just appeared at the crest when Taran was seized firmly from behind.

Taran s.n.a.t.c.hed at his sword. A hand was clapped over his mouth, stifling his shout, and he was dragged rapidly toward the foaming wavelets, to be flung silently down amid the stones.

"Make no sound!" Gwydion's voice whispered the command.

Taran went limp, with relief. Overhead, Magg lowered himself from the ma.s.s of stones and pa.s.sed no more than a dozen paces from the two crouching figures. Gwydion, clinging to the rocks above the surf, motioned for Taran to stay hidden. The Chief Steward, without a backward glance, hastened once more along the sea wall, heading for the castle.

"Seize him!" Taran urged. "A s.h.i.+p rides at anchor. I saw him signal it. We must make him tell us what he is about."

Gwydion shook his head. His green eyes followed the retreating Magg and his lips drew tightly against his teeth in the lean smile of a stalking wolf. He still wore the rags of the shoemaker; but Dyrnwyn, the black sword, now hung at his belt. "Let him go," he murmured. "The game is not played out."

"But the signal," Taran began.

Gwydion nodded. "I, too, saw it. I have been keeping watch over the castle since I left you. Though a moment ago," he added, with some severity, "I feared an a.s.sistant Pig-Keeper would stumble into a snare set to catch a traitor., Would you serve me? Then return at once to the castle. Stay close by the Princess."

"Dare we let Magg go unhindered?" Taran asked.

"He must go unhindered for a time, at least," replied Gwydion. "The shoemaker will soon put down his awl and take up the sword. Until then, keep silent. I would not spoil Magg's scheme before I learn more of it.

"The fisherfolk of Mona have already told a curious and harmless shoemaker part of what he must know," Gwydion continued. "Enough to be certain of one thing: Achren is aboard that vessel.

"Yes," Gwydion went on as Taran drew a sharp breath, "this much I suspected. Achren herself would not dare strike directly against Eilonwy. The castle is strong and well-guarded, only treachery could open its gates. Achren needed a hand to do her bidding. Now I know whose it is."

Gwydion frowned deeply as he spoke on. "But why?" he murmured almost to himself. "Too much still remains hidden. If it is as I fear..." He shook his head quickly. "It does not please me to use Eilonwy as unwitting bait for a trap, but I cannot do otherwise."

"Magg can be watched," Taran said, "but what of Achren?"

"I must find some means to learn her plan as well as Magg's," replied Gwydion. "Go quickly now," he ordered. "Soon all may grow clear. So I hope, for I would not see the Princess Eilonwy long in peril."

Taran hastened to obey Gwydion's command. Leaving the Prince of Don at the harbor, he made his way with all speed up the winding path to the castle, found the opening in the wall, and pressed through it into the dark courtyard. Eilonwy, he knew, would not be safe so long as Magg had the freedom of the castle. But Magg, at least, could be watched. The terror that chilled Taran's heart came from the s.h.i.+p waiting in the night. Memory of Achren, beautiful and merciless, again returned to him. From a day long past he recalled her livid face, her voice that had spoken so softly of torment and death. It was her shadow that loomed behind the treacherous Chief Steward.

He hurried silently across the courtyard. A dim light shone from one of the chambers. Stealthily, Taran moved toward it, raised himself on tiptoe, and peered through the cas.e.m.e.nt. In the glow of an oil lamp he saw the Chief Steward. Magg clutched a long dagger which he brandished in the air, all the while making fierce grimaces. After a time he hid the weapon in his garments, then picked up a small looking gla.s.s into which he smiled, pursed his lips, and eyed himself with glances of deep satisfaction. Taran watched with rage and horror, hardly able to keep from bursting in upon him. With a final smirk, the Chief Steward put out the lamp. Taran clenched his fists, turned away, and entered the castle.

At Eilonwy's chamber he found Gurgi crouched on the flagstones. Rumpled and half-asleep, Gurgi blinked and sprang to his feet. Kaw, as tousled as Gurgi himself, popped his head from under his wing.

"All is quiet," Gurgi whispered. "Yes, yes, watchful Gurgi has not moved from portal! Valiant, sleepy Gurgi keeps n.o.ble Princess from harmful hurtings. His poor tender head is heavy, but it does not nod, oh no!"

"You have done well," Taran said. "Sleep, my friend. Go and rest that poor tender head of yours and I shall stay here until daylight."

While Gurgi, yawning and rubbing his eyes, crept down the corridor, Taran took his place before the chamber. He sank to the flagstones and, with hand on sword, rested his head on his knees and fought against his own weariness. Once or twice, despite his efforts, he drowsed, then started up suddenly. The vaulted corridor slowly lightened in the rising dawn. With relief Taran saw the first rays of morning and at last allowed himself to close his eyes.

"Taran of Caer Dallben!"

He stumbled to his feet and clutched his blade. Eilonwy, looking fresh and well-rested, stood in the doorway.

"Taran of Caer Dallben!" she declared. "I nearly tripped over you! Whatever in the world are you doing?"

Befuddled, Taran could only stammer that he found the hallway more comfortable than his chamber.

Eilonwy shook her head. "That," she remarked, "is the silliest thing I've heard this morning. I may hear something sillier, because it's early yet, but I doubt it. I'm beginning to think the ways of a.s.sistant Pig-Keepers are quite beyond me." She shrugged. "In any case, I'm going to breakfast. After you wash your face and untangle your hair, you might have some too. It would do you good. You look as jumpy as a frog with fleas!"

Without waiting for Taran to shake the sleep from his head, and before he could stop her, Eilonwy disappeared down the corridor. Taran hurried after her. Even in the bright morning he felt shadows cling to him like black spider webs. By now, he hoped, Gwydion had discovered Achren's plan. But Magg still went free. Taran, recalling the Chief Steward's hidden dagger, had no intention of letting Eilonwy out of his sight for an instant.

"Hullo, hullo!" His round face glowing as if he had just scrubbed it, Prince Rhun popped out of his chamber just as Taran pa.s.sed by. "Going to breakfast?" cried the Prince, clapping Taran on the shoulder. "Good! So am I."

"Then we shall meet in the Great Hall," Taran hastily replied, striving to shake himself loose from Rhun's friendly grasp.

"Amazing how one's appet.i.te grows during the night," Prince Rhun went on. "Oh, by the way, did you ever manage to rouse the tailors?"

"Tailors?" Taran answered impatiently. "What tailors? Oh-yes, yes, they have done what I asked," he quickly added, peering down the corridor.

"Splendid!" cried Rhun. "I wish I had the same good fortune. Do you know, that shoemaker never did finish my sandals? He'd only just begun, then off he went, and that was the end of them."

"It may be he had a more important task to do," Taran replied. "As do I-"

"What could be more important to a shoemaker than making shoes?" asked Rhun. "However..." He snapped his fingers. "Ah! I knew there was something. I've forgotten my cloak. Hold on, I shall only be a moment."

"Prince Rhun," Taran cried, "I must join the Princess Eilonwy."

"We shall be there directly," called Rhun from the chamber. "Oh, drat! There goes my sandal lace broken! I do wish that shoemaker had finished his work!"

Leaving the Prince of Mona still rummaging in the chamber, Taran sped anxiously to the Great Hall. King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria were already at table, the Queen surrounded, as always, by her ladies. Taran looked quickly about him. Magg, usually in attendance, was not there.

Nor was there any sign of Eilonwy.

CHAPTER 5.

THE O OATH.

WHERE IS EILONWY?" Taran cried, as King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria stared at him in astonishment. "Where is Magg? He's made off with her! Sire, I beg you. Turn out your guard. Help me find them. Eilonwy is in danger of her life!"

"What, what?" Queen Teleria clucked. "Magg? The Princess? You're overwrought, young man. Perhaps the sea air-don't shake so and wave your arms about-has gone to your dead. Because someone isn't here for breakfast doesn't mean they're in danger. Does it, my dear?" she asked, turning to the King.

"I should hardly think so, my dear," answered Rhuddlum. "This is a heavy charge to bring against a loyal retainer," he added, looking gravely at Taran. "Why do you accuse him?"

For a moment, Taran stood perplexed and torn. Gwydion had bound him to secrecy. But now that Magg had struck, must the secret still be kept? Taking his decision, he let the words tumble from his lips, hurriedly and often confusedly telling all that had happened since the companions had reached Dinas Rhydnant.

Queen Teleria shook her head. "This shoemaker disguised as Prince Gwydion-or was it the other way around-and s.h.i.+ps and torch signals to enchantresses make the wildest tale I've heard, young man."

"Wild indeed," said King Rhuddlum. "But we shall learn the truth easily enough. Fetch the shoemaker and we shall soon see if he is the Prince of Don."

"Prince Gwydion seeks Achren," Taran cried. "I have given you the truth. If it is not so, you shall take my life for it. Will you prove my words? Fetch your Chief Steward."

King Rhuddlum frowned. "It is odd that Magg should not be here," he admitted. "Very well, Taran of Caer Dallben. He shall be found and you shall repeat your tale in his presence." He clapped his hands and ordered a servitor to summon the Chief Steward.

Frantic with anxiety, knowing that time was fleeting and delay could cost Eilonwy's life, Taran was nearly beside himself when the servitor at last returned with tidings that Magg appeared to be nowhere in the castle, nor could Eilonwy be found. As King Rhuddlum hesitated, still puzzled by Taran's words, Gurgi, Kaw, and Fflewddur entered the Great Hall. Taran raced to them.

"Magg! That villainous spider!" the bard exclaimed as soon as Taran told him what had happened. "Great Belin, she's ridden off with him! I saw them galloping through the gate. I called to her, but she didn't hear me. She seemed cheerful enough. I'd no idea anything was amiss. But they're gone, long gone by now!"

Queen Teleria turned deathly pale. The ladies of the court gasped fearfully. King Rhuddlum sprang to his feet. "You have spoken the truth, Taran of Caer Dallben."

Shouting for the guard, the King strode from the Great Hall. The companions hastened after him. At King Rhuddlum's hurried orders,, the stables were flung open. Within moments the courtyard filled with warriors and neighing horses. Prince Rhun, meantime, had strolled into the courtyard where he peered at the gathering host.

"Hullo, hullo!" he called to Taran. "Is this a hunting party? Splendid thought. I should enjoy a brisk morning ride."

"A hunt for your traitor steward," Taran retorted, thrusting Rhun aside and making his way to King Rhuddlum. "Sire, where is your war leader? Give us leave to put ourselves at his service."

"My war leader, sorry to say, is none other than Magg himself," the King answered. "As we've never had a war on Mona, we never needed a war leader, and it seemed quite in order to give Magg the honorary t.i.tle. I shall form up the searching party myself. As for you-yes-by all means help with any tasks that need doing."

While King Rhuddlum saw to the ordering of the warriors, Taran and the companions labored with all speed, tightening saddle girths and handing out weapons from the armory. Prince Rhun, Taran saw, had clambered astride a swaybacked, piebald mare that persisted in turning in circles despite the efforts of the Prince to control her. Fflewddur and Gurgi had led out three horses. A glance at the animals filled Taran with despair, for they seemed unspirited, of no great mettle, and he wished for the swift-footed Melynlas now grazing peacefully at Caer Dallben.

King Rhuddlum, taking Taran by the arm, drew him hurriedly into an empty stable. "You and I must speak together," the King said quickly. "The warriors are ready and divided into two parties. One I shall lead over the lands south of the River Alaw. You and your companions are to ride with my son, who shall command the search in the Hills of Parys north of the Alaw. It is of him I would speak."

"Prince Rhun in command?" Taran burst out.

"What then, Taran of Caer Dallben," King Rhuddlum asked sharply. "Do you question Prince Rhun's skill?"

"Skill!" Taran cried. "He has none! Eilonwy's life hangs in the balance; our task must be done without delay. Give command to a f.e.c.kless fool? He can barely knot a sandal lace, let alone ride a horse or wield a sword. The voyage to Mona showed me more than enough. Choose one of your liege men, a warrior, a forester, anyone save Rhun..." He stopped short. "Dallben has my oath to protect Eilonwy, and I say what is in my heart. Were I to say less, I would fail my duty. If I am to suffer for my words, then so be it.

"Once again. you speak the truth," King Rhuddlum answered. "It is not you who suffers for it, but I." He put a hand on Taran's shoulder. "Think you I do not know my own son? You are right in your judgment. But, I know, too, that Rhun must grow to be both a man and a king. You carry the burden of an oath to Dallben. I pray you take the burden of another one.

"Word of your deeds has reached Mona," King Rhuddlum went on, "And I have seen for myself that you are a brave lad, and honorable. I confide this knowledge to you: my Master of Horse is a skillful tracker; he rides with your party and in truth shall direct the search. Prince Rhun commands in name only, for the warriors expect leaders.h.i.+p from the Royal House. I would entrust my son to you, and beg you to let no harm befall him. Nor," added the King, smiling sadly, "to let him make too great a fool of himself. Much he has to learn, and much, perhaps, he may learn from you. One day he must be King of Mona, and it is my hope he will rule honorably and wisely with Eilonwy his Queen."

"Eilonwy?" Taran cried, "with Rhun her husband?"

"Yes," answered King Rhuddlum. "When the Princess comes of age, it is our desire they shall wed."

"Princess Eilonwy," Taran murmured, confused. "Does she know of this?"

"Not yet. Nor does my son," said King Rhuddlum. "Eilonwy must have time to grow used to Mona and our ways here. But I am sure it will be happily arranged. After all, she is a Princess and Rhun is of royal blood."

Taran bowed his head. The grief in his heart kept him from speaking.

"What say you, Taran of Caer Dallben?" King Rhuddlum asked. "Will you give me your word?"