The Beast of Caer Baddan (73 page)

“This is the head of Cadfan King of the Dumnonni,” Owain said. “With this head and its power, I curse all who would harm my father, my wife,
my children. May they be like Cadfan and cower to their death, and may their spirits never find peace.”

With that, Owain lifted the war club and struck it hard on the top of the severed head. The skull shattered and the decaying brain within spewed across the tile floor.

The lords gasped in fright.

“Dominae!” the elder lord cried.

“You are my witnesses to this curse,” Owain repeated. “Let the whole island know that I have died once and returned from the under-earth. Even if I die, I can surely come back again and torment the wrong-doers. In life or death they shall not escape me.”

“We are your witnesses, Dominae,” one of the lords said, as if begging to be finished.

“Good,” Owain replied. “I thank you, Lords of the Dumnonni, for your patience and time.”

He acknowledged them and left the circle, motioning Annon to follow him.

“You cursed them,” Annon whispered, in awe.

“I did,” Owain said.

He too was amazed at his own daring, yet from the fear on their faces, he felt that it worked. The lords of the Dumnonni would spread the story far and wide, and no one would try to murder any of his family again.

Later that afternoon, Owain left Annon with the knights and servants, and returned to the castle to see the Prince of the Dumnonni alone. He was led into a large sitting room were three servants stood at attention, and a boy about the same age as Annon sat on a chair. The boy wore a tunic and robe, and had a wide colorful wool brat draped over his legs. Owain searched the boy's solemn expression for any distinguishing features and recognized
both his aunt, Gratianna, as well as King Tudwal in his young face.

“So you are the famous Prince Owain,” the boy said.

“I am,” Owain replied.

“God keep you, Dominae,” and the prince nodded his head.

“God keep you, Prince Gadeon,” Owain said, with a nod of his own head.

“I hear that I am to be made King of the Dumnonni,” Prince Gadeon said, as if skeptical of such a report, “and that I have you to thank for that.”

“You have your circumstance to thank for that,” Owain replied. “And mine as well. I killed your father.”

Prince Gadeon let out a hoarse laugh.

“We both know it to be true,” Owain continued. “I'm not going to pretend that it did not happen.”

“My father was your enemy,” Prince Gadeon replied, irritated. “Of course you killed him. The question now remains why did you tell the Circle of the Dumnonni that I should be their king?”

“Why should I not?” Owain replied. “You have had a good education, are the apparent heir, and I have never heard any reason to keep you from ruling.”

“I am seventeen, three years younger than the Circle would normally accept in their midst,” the prince said. “I'm far from a battle leader. Indeed, I can lift neither sword nor shield. And as my cousin, Cadfan, so amiably expressed it, I'm not composed of what makes kings.”

“What does make kings?” Owain asked. “Villainy such as Cadfan was that he should attack infants? Do not consider anything he said to you to be valid.”

“I must,” Prince Gadeon replied, downcast.
“For he was a great warrior who had the support of many lords.”

“These same lords who are now ashamed of his actions?”
Owain asked. “He stole the rule of this kingdom from you by flattery in their ears. Do not allow him to rob you of it again by bitter words in your own.”

“Leave me!” Prince Gadeon yelled at the servants who stood by.

One of them tried to protest, but the prince repeated the command until they departed and shut the door behind them.

“Look at me, Prince Owain,” Prince Gadeon cried. “Look at me!”

“I'm looking,” Owain said, with raised eyebrows.

“I'm not a man!” the boy cried.
“But a cripple!”

Owain began to laugh, and Prince Gadeon stared at him in shock.

“You bemoan yourselves for that?” Owain cried. “Look at me! Look at me, Boy! I am a monster! I look like an Ankou! Half my face has been burnt away by fire from God! And you whine that you have weak legs!”

The boy seemed stunned by these words.

“Can you sit in the meeting the circle?” Owain asked.

“Ie,” Prince Gadeon replied.

“Can you marry?” Owain asked.

“Ie,” the prince said, and looked embarrassed by this question.

“Can you judge rightly, fairly, without thought to your own gain?” Owain asked.

“Ie.”

Owain came close to him and knelt down so that the boy could see him straight in the eye.

“Then, Cousin,” Owain said, “I think you shall make an excellent king.”

Prince Gadeon gazed back at Owain, as if searching for his heart in his eyes.

“You truly believe so?” Prince Gadeon asked.

“I do.”

The prince leaned back in his chair and lifted his chin in confidence.

“Then,” he said. “I shall be king.”

Owain held out his hand to Prince Gadeon, who grasped it firmly in his own.

Chapter Fifty Nine: Closure

The long journey northwest back to Glouia afforded ample opportunity for Owain to converse with young Annon.

“Why did you talk to them?” Annon asked. “I did not want to fight now, but I thought a war was necessary.”

“Perhaps it would have been,” Owain replied. “But sometimes when we look for peace and harmony we actually find them. The Dumnonni will never try to hurt Leola or my children again, and in most likely, their rumors shall soon keep other villains from making that attempt as well. My family shall be safe, and that is worth far more than any victory.”

Annon appeared to be deep in thought, and for a while they rode in silence.

“Do you remember what you said about our spirits and the Pendragons of old?” Annon asked.

“If we can touch their spirits within us we too shall be great,” Owain recalled. “It was something my grandmother, Ceindrech, would say.”

“That was very wise of her,” Annon said.

“It was,” Owain replied. “Those who walk before us are very wise, our parents, and grandparents, and foreparents.”

“My parents are boring,” Annon whined.

Owain laughed. “That is because you are sixteen,” he said.

As they neared the fork in the road, Owain thought as to what their direction should be.

“On to Caer Gloui, now?” Annon asked.

“I have something I remembered I must see in Caer Corin,” Owain replied. “Then we shall go to Baddan.”

He directed their party on by the northwestern road that led straight to that city.

“But it is already Maius and your father might demand your presence,” Owain continued, thinking on the Roman months and the boy's long absence from his parents' kingdom, Pengwern. 

“I hope not,” Annon mumbled.

“Do not grumble, Boy,” Owain said, amused. “Your parents are actually very brave, interesting, and insightful people. There are far worse where mothers and fathers are concerned.”

They spoke of many things and Owain felt a great deal of relief that Annon was at last healing from his dreadful encounter with the Attacotti.

Owain made a short stop on the way to the Capital of Glouia. He directed the party off of the main road and into the forest that he had traversed many months before. It did not take him long to find the hermit's secluded house.

“My good man!”
Owain called. “I have returned to see if you are well.”

The hermit pulled the torn animal hide back from the entrance to his hut and peered out at Owain.

“Ah!” the hermit cried, in horror. “Soldiers! Soldiers come to take me to the emperor! I think.”

“No
, ,man” Owain replied, a little perplexed by this revelation. “The emperor went to Gaul and is most likely dead. It is only the wounded stranger you saved a year ago.”

“I do not want to go, I think,” the hermit replied.

“As you please,” Owain said, cheerfully.

He did not want to argue with the poor man.

“Leir,” Owain said. “Give the man a sack of barley.”

His servant undid one of the packs from the luggage and took it towards the hut.

“Not another step you take! You take!” the hermit cried.

Owain indicated to Leir to just leave the grain there, and his servant was soon mounted once more.

“God keep you, Man,” Owain said.

“Ie,
Ie,” the hermit said, agitated. “God keep you, I think.”

Owain resolved to visit the solitary man in another month and decided that he should go alone on that journey. He did not want the hermit upset again over seeing the knights.

When they had neared Caer Corin, Owain sent the entire group on without him. He felt that some things he must do alone and this task before him was one such duty.

His eyes scanned the lush grass, bushy shrubs, and blooming flowers, and he could not help but marvel at the sight.

Owain had ridden passed that same field a hundred times yet had avoided looking on it, much less stopping to walk through its finery. It had been a field of blood to him for nearly eighteen years, and only now that his heart was healed could he step into it.