The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

It’s a long way home when you zigzag,
Gwyn thought to himself as he ambled up the track. He could see the welcoming light glowing from the kitchen window promising warmth and a hearty meal. His stomach rumbled. Saturday was beef casserole night and he could practically taste the meat as he smacked his lips in anticipation.

With a robust belch he swung open the door, kicked
off his boots and followed his nose into the kitchen. His father was already sitting at the table folding the newspaper, his glasses still perched on the end of his nose. Anwen was pulling a roasting dish from the oven and the table was already laid. Bread and butter piled high, steaming green beans and peppered boiled potatoes decorated the centre of the table. Gwyn’s stomach growled in anticipation.

‘I am starving!’ he announced
, plonking himself down on a chair and grabbing his knife and folk. ‘Bloody starving, man. All I’ve had today is a couple of packets of crisps!’

‘And beer
,’ Anwen sniped, as she placed the casserole on the table and removed the lid.

‘And beer
,’ agreed Gwyn. ‘Lots and lots of beer. What else would I go to the pub for? Oh, I’m sorry Anwen, I forgot, you’re not old enough to drink at the pub yet, are you?’

Anwen stuck her tongue out at Gwyn and dumped a ladle full of casserole onto his plate causing it to splash his jumper. ‘Oh sorry, Gwyn!’ she exclaimed sarcastically.

Gwyn’s face clouded over. ‘Enough!’ rumbled their father. ‘Sit, eat and enjoy – both of you.’

The look Gwyn shot Anwen promised repercussions later, but Anwen shrugged and passed her father the bread first, away from Gwyn’s clutching fingers.

During the meal Gwyn relayed the local gossip from the pub. ‘Gary Jones is engaged to marry Ellen Richards from Dylas Farm, both sets of parents are happy with the match, but the wedding is being rushed, so everybody is presuming she’s pregnant already,’ Gwyn scoffed. ‘Oh, and Will Pant-y-Carw has fallen out with John Glas over some grazing rights and neither are speaking, I reckon it will turn into a feud sooner or later, both are stubborn buggers.’

Gwyn halted his chattering while he concentrated on fishing another ladle of casserole out of the dish, making sure it was laden with as much meat as possible. Anwen glanced at her brother and sneered
. In her opinion her brother was an ugly, overbearing oaf, nothing like Taliesin and in fact, they couldn’t be more opposite. Taliesin was tall and sleek, Gwyn was short and stocky. Taliesin had long, thick, shiny black hair. Gwyn’s was close-cropped, dull and mousey. Taliesin’s face was all strong angles, Gwyn’s was rounded and his nose was too small and covered in freckles. Anwen couldn’t fathom why the village girls took so much interest in him. Gwyn wasn’t worldly and wise like Taliesin. Her big brother was childish, stubborn and crude.

Gwyn continued with his immature gossip while Anwen and her father hummed and hawed at the appropriate moments until the meal was finished and Gwyn’s appetite was sated. Then as was usual, the men cleared the table and Anwen washed the dishes before returning the crockery to the cupboard.

As per every Saturday night, once the meal was over, Gwyn and his father retired to the living room to watch television in front of the fire. Anwen would instead have a long bath, read a book and finally snuggle up in bed to dream of Taliesin.

Somewhere around ten o’clock her father would gently tap on her bedroom door to wish her goodnight. Sometimes he would perch on the end of her bed and ask her about her day, Anwen would tell him about her day idling in the fields, about just reading or drawing
. Sometimes she would prove the lie and show him her latest sketches of flowers, fields and birds. She never mentioned Taliesin. Her father would smile and tell her how clever and talented she was, but he would worry that she was spending too much time on her own.

‘Wouldn’t you like to go into the village and hang round girls your own age?’ he gently asked
. ‘Don’t you want to go and buy magazines, talk with the girls? You used to like Sian Parry, you always used to go and play at her house when you were younger.’

Anwen looked into her father’s
careworn face, his brow creased with concern, his jowly cheeks all pink from a hard day’s work on the farm and she felt guilty at her dishonesty. ‘Oh Dad, I’m not a baby anymore!’ she sighed and rolled her eyes, hiding her discomfort. ‘The girls just want to talk about Gwyn or makeup or clothes, how boring is that? Do you know that Sian Parry admitted to not reading a book since she left school? They’re stupid Dad! I don’t fit in with them anymore.’

Her father smiled at her and patted her duvet covered legs, ‘As long as you’re happy Anwen, that’s all that matters.’ He leaned forward and kissed her forehead exactly where Taliesin had kissed her hours before and Anwen felt another rush of guilt.
‘Love you, Dad.’

‘Love you too, Anwen. Goodnight.’ Her father slipped out of the door
, closing it gently behind him.

Anwen lay back on her pillows and stared at the ceiling. Her bedside lamp filled the room with a soft yellow glow. The pink and white wallpaper, her patchwork bedspread and the white drawn curtains all softened in the buttery light making the room feel cosy and safe, but she had a gnawing worry in the pit of her stomach
. It was a sickly mix of guilt, sentiment and anxiety that stole her feeling of contentment, replacing it with insecurity and self-loathing.

She hated lying to her father, she
despised being separated from Taliesin, but most of all she knew deep down that what she and Taliesin were doing was forbidden and if they were found out, her father would never forgive her.

  She tutted when she heard Gwyn stumbling up the stairs
. He’d probably fallen asleep on the sofa, again. She heard his door shut and then listened to the house settle and creak, accompanied by the sound of Gwyn’s snoring and the ticking of the hallway clock.

Anwen finally leaned over and turned her lamp off
, plunging the room into darkness. No light pollution ever reached the farm; no streetlights, no car lights, no lights at all, just inky blackness shrouding the farm, quieting the animals and bringing an unbroken peace. Anwen fell straight to sleep and her last conscious thought was of Taliesin and whether he was thinking of her.

CHAPTER THREE

Silvery clouds drifted across the moon and plunged the wooded pathway into darkness. The sudden blackness was not a problem for Taliesin, he could see as clearly as if it was day. He had been summoned by his mother and as he walked into the candlelit clearing where she held court he immediately bent on one knee and bowed his head.

Kneeling on the forest floor Taliesin inhaled the evening air. He could smell the earthy scent of pine needles beneath him, the sharp tang of borage mixed with the heady aroma of light scented stock and dew trimmed fern; a potent fusion of Summer’s evening.

Mab Rhedyn Haf, Queen of the Summer Realm, Arch Orphanim of the Bwy Hir sat on a low canopy woven together to form a throne
. The branches interlaced together to form a magnificent arched emerald display above her head. She held a silver goblet in her right hand, swilling the contents in a circular motion while watching her son with an arched eyebrow. She was much taller than Taliesin, all the Bwy Hir were. He was still considered a child among them, and in Bwy Hir terms he still was. He was yet to gain his full height and radiance; he still looked Human and he was yet to gain the Triskele tattoo above his right ear, marking him as full Bwy Hir and rightful member of the Host.

She allowed him to kneel for quite some time before dismissing her retinue
, keeping only her most trusted advisor Awel behind. Mab and Awel glanced at each other and then Awel raised her voice. ‘Taliesin ap Aeron, rise and greet your Queen.’ Taliesin stood and approached his mother, kissing her on her outstretched hand before finally raising his head.

Mab’s smile did not reach her eyes, and with a sudden flash of temper, for which she was renowned, she hurled her goblet across the clearing and into the shadows beyond.

‘You, my son,’ she spat, ‘are a fool!’ Taliesin flinched slightly as his mother rose from her throne. ‘What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you have done?’ Mab’s corset strained at its laces as if trying to contain her temper. She clawed at her skirts and began pacing the forest floor. She spun at Taliesin’s silence and pointed a jewel encrusted finger in his direction. ‘If your father finds out, if he even suspects …’ Mab’s eyes flashed dangerously. ‘How could you even contemplate … what possessed you to seize a Human, have we not learned from our forefathers? The rape of a Human is unforgiveable!’

Taliesin spun on his mother
. ‘How dare you!’ he blazed. ‘I did not take Anwen, she gave her consent as I gave mine, we are in love mother – I would not harm her.’

‘Love?’ his mother yelled, ‘How can she love you, Taliesin? She doesn’t even know what you are, what you will become, not to mention what you must have done to be capable of rutting a
Human woman.’

Awel raised her hand and interrupted, ‘Mab, enough! I suggest you lower your voice unless you
do
want Aeron to find out.’ Mab glared at Awel before throwing herself into her throne and silently fuming.

Mab was considered the most beautiful of the Bwy Hir, despite the Bwy Hir being numbered only in double figures now; she was still outstandingly beautiful, even by
Human standards.

Mab’s hair was the same colour as her son’s, a deep velvety black. Hers was not shaved on both sides, only above her left ear where her black Triskele tattoo showed, the same as all adult Bwy Hir
, only the males wore theirs on their right.

Intricate braids laced with golden threads pulled her hair over to cascade down her right side to her waist. Her skin was the same as all the Bwy Hir
: white, flawless. Her eyes were large black pools rimmed with charcoal to accentuate their almond shape. Her full lips were emphasized with beet and beeswax to give a bee-sting pout.

Awel in contrast was an Albino,
a common trait among the Bwy Hir. Her white hair was fashioned in the same style as Mab’s, the way all Bwy Hir females wore their hair. The exception was that only Mab wore gold in her tresses, all the others wore silver threads in their braids. Awel had tiny silver acorns threaded into the ends of her hair that tinkled when she moved quickly. Awel’s eyes were the colour of Welsh slate and rimmed with red. She was much older than Mab and yet her flawless skin denied her age, another trait of the Bwy Hir: they appeared ageless, eternal.

With a sigh Awel patted Taliesin’s shoulder and b
ade him to sit on the dais next to his mother. ‘Before anything else is said Taliesin, you should know two things: one, your mother was wind casting when she stumbled upon your indiscretion this afternoon …’

Taliesin visibly winced and Mab wrinkled her nose in disgust at her son. ‘Secondly,’ Awel continued, ‘your father has woken early, he paces the Halls of the Druids as we speak.’

Taliesin snatched his breath at the news. He feared his father, but more, he feared what would happen to Anwen and her family if his father found out what Taliesin had been up to; the Winter King was ever merciless.

‘Not only have you endangered yourself and your little courtesan, not to mention her family, but you have potentially damaged my reign and
imperilled Awel with your seed sowing… and just to add insult to injury, you have done something that could shake the very foundations of the Bwy Hir … Anwen of Ty Mawr is pregnant.’

Mab had kept that piece of news to herself. Awel’s jaw dropped open and her face drained of all colour. Taliesin looked at his mother as if she had lost her
mind, the one-blood didn’t mix, Halflings weren’t possible. Throughout history it had been proven that any attempt to interbreed with Humans caused miscarriage.

Awel sat heavily onto the dais staring into space. ‘Oh yes, Awel,’ Mab hissed, ‘I told you that one would come back and bite you. You’d better pray we can keep this secret. I already grow tired, my powers wane, soon I will be able to render no protection to either of you or the concubine. She is of Ty Mawr, is she not?’ Mab asked her son and he nodded. ‘Being the daughter of the
Chosen will offer her little protection if she is found out.’

Mab stood leaving Awel and Taliesin s
itting like gargoyles on the edge of her dais. She lifted her slender hands to her mouth and cupping them she unleashed a high drawn out yip before moving to the edge of the candlelight to wait. Mab needed extra eyes and ears on the Ty Mawr Farm, she needed to know no others had unearthed her son’s indiscretion.

A few moments later there were waves of rustling through the ferns surrounding the clearing before a leash of foxes bounded into the candlelight, yipping and jumping at Mab’s outstretched hands. Once the foxes had curbed their delight, Mab knelt down and whispered to them before they slipped back into the ferns and vanished.

Mab returned to her throne. ‘A tangled web indeed.’ Taliesin and Awel remained silent.