Arthur

ELEVEN

'We will camp in the meadow and continue the pursuit at dawn,' declared Arthur. 'I will have Baldulf in chains, or see his body in the earth before I put up this sword.'

He then ordered the care of the wounded and the plunder of the dead, and we worked steadily into the night, stripping the corpses by torchlight. The enemy dead were thrown into the earthwork ditches. The British fallen were wrapped in their cloaks, carried to the mound, and honourably put to the flame by the priests of Mailros. As the pyre tit the darkling sky the good priests prayed the souls of our sword brothers on their way. Thus the bodies of our kinsmen and Cymbrogi did not suffer the gross humiliation of birds and beasts.

When at last we staggered back across the river to the meadow, a pale moon shone through wisps of cloud. The camp fires had been banked high; hot food and cold drink awaited. The war host of the Island of the Mighty sank gratefully down upon the cool grass, too tired to stir. The Duke made certain his men were well supplied with all they needed before turning to his own refreshment.

The other lords did likewise, and I saw the clustered masses of our troops spread out along the river and across the meadow. Fewer, Dear God, than had marched out this morning – an age ago that was. I felt old and weak.

Arthur and I dragged ourselves to the place where Arthur's tent had been set up. Myrddin waited there before the fire, and rose when we came near. 'Sit you down,' he commanded. 'I will bring food.'

Without a word, Arthur collapsed into Uther's camp chair. He sat there too exhausted to move. We had washed in the river, but the blood stains on our clothing shone black in the firelight and we were speckled with dark, crusted blotches.

'It is a filthy business,' Arthur murmured, staring at his hands.

I nodded. ‘That it is, Bear, that it is.'

Myrddin returned with two stewards carrying meat and bread on a wooden tray, and beer in a huge jar. He quickly dismissed the stewards to other duties and began serving us with his own hand. Blind though he was, the Emrys moved quickly and without hesitation. When I asked him how he knew where to find us, he laughed and answered, 'By the smell of you, Most Fragrant Bedwyr! How else?'

It was meant to cheer us, and did not fall far short of the mark. But I was too tired to laugh, and could not even manage a suitable smile. I drank my beer in silence, and ate some bread, forcing my jaws to chew. I think I have never eaten bread so tough; although it came apart in my hands easily enough, it was all I could do to choke it down. The venison was no better.

While we ate, some of the other lords, having settled their men, joined us. Maelgwn and Maglos were first, and they were followed by Owain, Ogryvan, Idris and Ceredig. These were eager for the division of the spoils, which they thought should take place at once as they saw no reason to delay.

Arthur was not inclined to disappoint them, although I could see that his heart was not in it. 'Bring the plunder here before me, and I will divide it out.'

That is what they wanted to hear. Indeed, they were only waiting on Arthur's word, for all at once men bearing armloads of treasure appeared. They came before the Duke and placed their burdens before his feet. Others came with mealbags full of objects collected from the barbarian camp and corpses – gold and silver, brass, bronze and pewter, bright coloured, with gems and with clever inlay: cups, bowls, trays, tores, arm rings, bracelets, brooches, mead jars, pins, knives, swords, belts, finger rings and rings for the ear, necklaces, cauldrons, pots, fine furs, combs, hair ornaments, collars for dogs and for valued slaves, coins, mirrors, statues and idols of Woden, Thor and Freya, razors, discs and plaques, spoons, circlet crowns, ingots large and small in the shape of axe-heads… and on and on.

At first the gathered throng cheered to see the rich hoarding. Bag after bag and load upon load was brought forward and the pile rose higher and still higher – the heap was fully as tall as Arthur himself! But as the trove swelled the laughter and the cheering became less. The last trinket was placed upon the stack in total silence.

Awed and abashed, we gazed upon the wealth we had won. Then the shame of it stole over us and the sweet taste of victory turned bitter in our mouths.

The treasure was ours by right, but it was covered in blood – much of it British blood, since the barbarians had stolen it from those they had marauded all summer. We took back only our own, and there was little cheer in the taking.

It was slow going through the forest. And though we left at first light – as soon as we could read the trails through the tangled wood – our pursuit did not raise any of the escaping enemy, who by now must have reformed into warbands. But we kept at it, and by midday began making eerie and unusual discoveries: barbarian corpses drained white and hanging from the branches of trees.

At first only a few, and then more… by the scores…

I called off the pursuit and ordered the Cymbrogi to return to the Twide valley. 'Leave be,' I told the men, 'we will find none left alive. We ride for Mailros.'

It was early in the afternoon when we rejoined the main force. Arthur was surprised to see us return so soon. 'What is it, Bedwyr? Poor hunting?"

'Oh, aye,' I told him, swinging down from my horse. 'Spoiled, more like. Someone has poached the game from your hunting runs, Lord of the Hunt.'

The Duke regarded me with a quizzical look. 'What happened?'

'The Hill Folk have collected the blood debt that was owed them, I expect. We came upon the bodies along the pathways – each one pierced by a Hill Folk arrow and hung up to bleed like carcasses of beef. The bhean sidhe slew hundreds, Bear, but we neither saw nor heard anything of them.'

'You were right to come back,' agreed Arthur. 'Leave the Hill Folk to fight their battle in their own way.'

Of Baldulf we had no sign. For, despite the ghastly grove of corpses I had seen, I did not for a moment consider that he might be dead. Too many had escaped into Celyddon – thousands in all. At least half the barbarian host was still alive to fight again.

A short while later the scouts which the Duke had sent out before dawn returned with the report that Baldulf had fled east to his ships waiting on the coast. As confirmation of this fact they brought with them the Irish king, Fergus, and the tattered remains of his war band. Fergus and his men had been captured making for Abertwide.

British lords and warriors hastened to Arthur's tent to see what the Duke would do. They pressed close about in a tight ring around Arthur. Some shouted and jeered at the Irish, but most remained quiet.

Fergus, his hands bound with leather straps, was hauled forward and made to kneel before Arthur. But the Duke took one look at the pathetic sight and raised the king to his feet. He took the knife from his belt and cut the thongs that bound him. Then, staring him full in the eye, Arthur said, 'If I were in your place I know you would kill me. Do you deny it?'

Fergus knew the northern tongue and answered, 'I do not deny it, lord. I would kill you.'

Then why have you allowed yourself to be brought here like this?'

The Irish king raised his head and with eyes full of defeat and humiliation replied, 'Because I heard that you were a just and merciful man, Duke Arthur.'

'You call me just and merciful, O King. And yet you made war against me. How can this be?'

'I am not lying when I tell you that I am far from wealthy. Once the name Fergus mac Guillomar meant something in the world. But the tribute we must pay to the Bretwalda has bled us dry. Now my lands are poor; my crops fail and my cattle die, and the crops and herds of my people do no better.

'This, and the tribute is never decreased by so much as a kernel of wheat. We starve, lord, for want of grain and meat. Baldulf said he would waive the tribute if I joined him in raiding. He promised much plunder.' Fergus lowered his head in misery. 'Please, lord, if you will not grant mercy to me, grant mercy at least to my warriors, who have done nothing but follow their king.'

Arthur pulled on his chin for a moment and then motioned for me to come near. 'What do you think, Bedwyr?'

'An unlikely tale, it seems to me.'

'But might there be some truth in it?'

I thought for a moment. 'Well,' I said slowly, 'the Irish need little enough encouragement to raid. Even in the best of times they seldom prosper.'

'That is so. What else?'

'The part about paying tribute to Baldulf rings true. It would explain much.'

'I agree. So what do we do with Aim?' the Duke jerked his head towards where Fergus waited.

'Ask Myrddin. He is your Wise Counsellor.'

'I am asking you. What would you do, Bedwyr?'

'I do not know, Artos. Kill him, I suppose. These greedy heathen must know that they cannot make war on Britain and hope to escape without swift and severe punishment. Strength is the only thing they respect.'

Arthur put his hand on my shoulder. 'Your answer is the Soul of Wisdom, brother. A man would be a fool to go against it. And yet that is what I shall do.'

'You mean to let him go?'

'Yes.'

'Then why ask what I think? What difference does it make what I say?'

'I needed to hear it, Bedwyr. That is all. You speak the hard law of war. But there is a higher law we may invoke.'

'Which is?'

'When a man asks for his life, you must give it – even if it were better in your eyes for that man to die.'

He turned away quickly and bade Fergus kneel down before him. The Cymry gathered close around murmured to themselves, speculating on Arthur's decision.

'Do you swear, O King, on pain of death, never to practise war upon Britain again? And will you with whatever oaths you deem binding swear fealty to me, and promise to uphold me and pay me tribute as long as your life endures?'

Fergus glanced up into Arthur's face, and I saw a rare sight – one that is not often seen in this world. I saw hope kindled in a man who knew himself doomed, who had no right to hope at all. This hope was born of mercy. And I could see by looking at the Irish king that Arthur had won a loyal friend for life. Fergus swore his oaths, bound his life to Arthur's, and rose a happy man.

Against all reason, Arthur fed the captives and sent them home – without an escort. There was nothing to prevent them from breaking faith and turning back to raiding the moment they moved from our sight. This caused many in our camp to grumble against Arthur, but when did the complaints of others ever sway the Bear of Britain?

We rested on the wide, grassy lee of the sparkling Twide, taking time, to refresh ourselves and heal our wounds. It remained sunny and warm, and the long northern day stretched soft and golden before us. Arthur spent it with the Cymbrogi, eating and drinking and singing with them. He gifted them with gold rings and armbands, and silver cups for their valour. He gave liberally of his share of the plunder, keeping nothing for himself.

So, after a supper of stewed leeks, roast venison, the coarse camp bread, and cheese, Myrddin Emrys took up his harp. The entire camp gathered on the riverbank, crowding one against another to the edge of the water so that no one could move. None seemed to mind the cramp, so intent were they on the Emrys' song.

Myrddin stood before them on a flat-topped rock, the waters of the Twide swirling below him. Straight and tall he stood before the battle host of Britain, idly strumming the harp, dead eyes downcast, searching among the tales in his vast store for the one he would share tonight. It was ever the same with him; Myrddin would try to fit the song to his listeners, so that it would speak to them a word they could treasure in their souls.

His long fingers played over the harp strings, drawing a melody from the singing heart of the harp as lightly as a maid coaxing a smile from her lover. Then, raising his head, he began the tale. And this is what he sang…

In the First Days of Men, when the dew of creation was still fresh on the earth, Bran the Blessed, son of Llyr, was Icing of Gwynedd and Lloegres and all Ynys Prydein besides. He was as just and fair as the sunlight that falls from heaven, and a better king was not known since kingship began in the Island of the Mighty, and this is the way of it…

One day, as Bran sat on the rock of Harddlech overlooking the sea, accompanied by his kinsmen and such men of rank as ought to surround a very great king, he spied thirteen Irish ships coming to him from over the sea and making for the coast, running before the wind with all the grace and ease of gulls.

Seeing this, Bran bestirred himself and said, 'Friends and kinsmen, I see ships out there boldly approaching our lands. Go you down to meet them and discover what these visitors intend by coming here like this.'

The men of Bran's company equipped themselves and went down to await the Irish ships. 'Lieu smite me,' exclaimed one of the men as the ships came closer, 'if I have ever seen ships as fine as these.' And all agreed that they were handsome ships indeed.

The foremost ship drew ahead of the others and they saw a shield raised on the deck as a sign of peace. The ships then stood off from shore and put out boats filled with strangers who proceeded to land.

'Lieu be good to you,' called Bran in greeting from his rock as the foremost stranger strode up out of the water, 'if you seek peace, you are welcome. Whose ships are these, and who is your leader?'

'Lord Sechlainn, King of the Ierne,' came the reply. 'It is he who owns these ships – and many more like them, since you ask.'

'What does he seek by coming here?' demanded Bran. He had learned through bitter experience not to trust strangers from across the sea. 'Will he come ashore?'

'No, lord,' the emissary answered. 'My king has a request of you and will not set foot upon these lands unless you grant it.'

'Well, am I to know this request?'

'Great lord,' the emissary said courteously, 'King Sechlainn seeks to make an alliance with you. As proof of your friendship, he has come to ask for Bronwen, daughter of Llyr, to be his wife, that your houses be for ever bound by ties of blood and honour. In this way will Ierne and the Island of the Mighty be made stronger.'

'Tell your lord that he had better come to my dun where we can discuss the matter properly.'

King Sechlainn heard this and came ashore at once, his counsellors and men of rank with him. And great was the host in Bran's hall that night.

First light next day, the men of the Island of the Mighty met in council. They decided that the incessant warring with the Irish must cease, and the sooner the better for all. If the alliance with Sechlainn could accomplish this, it should be sought. Still, they were greatly sorrowed to let Bronwen go from them, for she was one of the Three Great Queens of the island, and widely known as the most beautiful woman then alive.

Nevertheless, it was decided that she should become Sechlainn's queen for the good of all. And so a feast was declared to celebrate the joining of the two most powerful houses in all this worlds-realm.

For his pan, King Sechlainn brought seven of his ships near to land and began unloading them. 'What is swimming to shore?' wondered the British men. 'Please tell us, for we have never seen creatures of their like before.'

'These noble animals are called horses,' replied the Irish men. 'Well you might wonder to look upon them, for they are a gift to us from Lugh of the Sure Hand himself; they come to you straightway from the Otherworld.'

The British men were amazed to see such beautiful creatures climbing out of the waves and foam, glistening in the sunlight as if gilt with the gold of heaven. The horses and their grooms were received with all honour and respect and put at once in the finest fields and glens that Bran possessed.

And Bronwen, his sister, was married to Sechlainn the Irish king that very day. As proof of their marriage, the couple slept together that same night and thus joined the noble kingdoms of Ierne and Ynys Prydein.

During the wedding celebration – which lasted so many days that men lost count – Lord Evnissyen, Bran's quarrelsome cousin, arrived from his travels and saw some of the horses. 'What are these ugly beasts?' he demanded. 'And who has brought them here to waste our land with their upkeep?'

They are the bride price paid for Bronwen, who is now become the wife of King Sechlainn of Ireland,' answered one of the grooms.

Evnissyen, the Bent One, frowned, which he was ever known to do, and growled at the groom. 'What! Have they given away that excellent woman without my consent? Indeed, my cousin could not have hit upon a greater insult to me if that had been his sole ambition. Very likely it was.'

So saying, the ill-tempered Evnissyen began smiting the horses with his fists, striking first their jaws and heads, then their flanks and backs, and finally their hocks and tails. This he did with such vengeance and malice that the once-proud creatures were disfigured beyond all value.

News of this outrage took wings to King Sechlainn, who wondered at the atrocity of it. 'This insult to my gift is no less insult to me. More, if this is how they respect my highest treasure, I fear I will fare no better,' he said, shaking his head. 'My path is clear: there is nothing to do but make for the ships.'

King Sechlainn took his wife and men and hastened to his realm across the sea. The ships became specks on the sea and disappeared altogether before Bran learned of his leaving. But he did learn, and he said, 'It is not fitting that he should leave in such unseemly haste. Therefore, we will not let him go.'

Bran sent messengers out in his fastest ships to plead with Sechlainn to return and favour Bran's court with his presence.

'That I will not do,' replied King Sechlainn from the deck of his handsome ship, 'until I know who has cast this slander on my name by destroying my good gift.' And he told them about the injury done to the horses.

When Bran heard the messengers' report, he was heard to remark, 'I smell the evil of Evnissyen at work here. Lieu knows he was ever a trouble maker.' So once again he sent out the messengers – Manawyddan ap Llyr, Heveydd the Tall, and Unig Strong Shoulder – to offer his apology for his kinsman's bad manners, saying, Tell the king of Ierne that if he will overlook Evnissyen's insult I will give him a staff of silver as tall as he is, and a platter of gold as broad as his own face. Or, if he will not accept that, let Sechlainn come to me and name what he will accept and we shall make peace on whatever terms he deems best.'

These swift messengers sailed with all speed to Sechlainn and offered Bran's words in a friendly way. The king listened and his fair wife pleaded with him, 'My brother is an honourable man, my husband. Allow him to prove himself in this matter and you will not be disappointed.'

The Irish king pulled on his chin, puffed out his cheeks, and cast an eye upon his beautiful wife. In her he found favour and so replied, 'As this is a strange thing from the beginning, it pleases me to have an end to it. Very well, I will return to Bran and hear him out.'

The Irish flew once more to the Island of the Mighty, but they were cautious and anxious lest any further insult befall them. Bran saw that they were listless at their food and conversation. 'My friend, you are not so light-hearted as you were before. Is it because you consider your compensation too small? If so, I will add as much as you like to make you happy.'

'Lugh reward you, lord, I believe you mean what you say.'

'I do. And as pledge of my word, I will give you my chief treasure, a great cauldron of gold wherein resides this peculiar property: if a slain warrior is put into the pot today, he will fight as well as ever on the morrow. Only, he will not be able to speak a word.'

King Sechlainn thanked Bran graciously and was so well pleased with his new treasure that he forgot the insult done him. The feast continued as many days as before, and an enjoyable feast it was. But the time came to take his leave, and the Irish king embraced the British king like a brother and said, 'Come you to my court when you will, lord, and I will return the favours you have accorded me tenfold. You may prove me in this, and I hope you do.'

Then, after many heartfelt farewells, King Sechlainn and Bronwen set out. Thirteen graceful Irish ships sailed from Aber Menei and flew away over the sea to Ierne where they were greeted joyously by one and all.

Soon it became voiced about all the kingdom that Sechlainn had taken a wife of rare and surpassing beauty. And everyone who came into his court from the first day received from Bronwen's hand a ring of gold, or a polished jewel, or a fine enamelled brooch, or some such treasured gift as would please them. Oh, and it was a marvellous sight to see these precious gifts being carried off!

Bronwen's renown as a kind and generous queen grew in the land, and small wonder. King Sechlainn's realm flourished as never before with goodness and peace. Great the honour thereof! And this king liked and loved his lady well.

In due time Bronwen's belly swelled with child which she bore most regally, and at the end gave birth to a son named Gwern. After the custom of those days, the boy was sent to the best house in all the realm to be reared as a nobleman ought.

Bronwen's cousin, Evnissyen, wicked as the night is long, bethought himself how things had turned out, and how Bran had healed the split he had made. And he became jealous of Sechlainn's happiness and good fortune. 'Govannon smite me with his hammer if I do not settle this matter between us for once and all.' And taking a small coracle, he set out at once for Ierne.

There are trouble makers in Ierne, just as everywhere else. And Evnissyen had no great difficulty finding them and stirring them up with hateful words and false promises.

This was only too easily done, for because of Queen Bronwen's kindness and honour, and the heir she had given their king, these small-souled creatures were already halfway down the trail to jealousy by reason of Sechlainn's happiness. In less time than it takes to tell it, the grumblers, led on by smooth Evnissyen, fastened on the insult done their king while in Bran's court. The more they thought about it – and they thought about little else – the angrier they became.

Did they keep their anger to themselves? No, they did not.

Very soon they were flapping their tongues here and there all over the realm, and causing others to do the same. This poison spread as it will do, and in time reached Sechlainn's ears. He grew sad to hear it, and at first refused to take offence at this insult that had been so handsomely redressed by the gift of the enchanted cauldron.

But the evil words did not cease. And as the waves pounding on the rock wear it down bit by bit to pebble size, so too after a time Sechlainn could no longer look at his beautiful queen without thinking of the wrong done him.

But the makers of trouble did not let it rest there. They continually hounded the poor king to his misery by demanding that the disgrace to his kingdom be avenged so that his honour, and theirs, might be restored.

In short, they raised such an uproar and ferment throughout Ierne that in the end unhappy Sechlainn yielded to them – more to earn a space of silence than anything else. And this is the revenge he took: Bronwen was struck once on the cheek and driven from his chamber. A queen no longer, she was given a place in the kitchen and made to cook for the court.

For this reason, the blow Bronwen suffered was ever after known as one of the Three Unjust Slaps of Britain.

But, as everyone knows, it could not stop there. 'Now lord,' said the malcontents, 'word of this must not reach Bran or he will surely come and make war on us to avenge his sister.'

'What do you propose?' asked Sechlainn sadly. He no longer cared what happened to him or his kingdom. The light had been snuffed from his life.

'You must forbid all ships from going to Ynys Prydein, and all ships coming from there must be seized, so that no one can take word to Bran. Do this and we will be happy at last.'

'You may be happy, but I will not. While you are at it you might as well call me Mallolwch, Most Wretched, from now on, for I can no longer be Sechlainn and feel the way I do.'

'That is your decision,' replied the evildoers. 'We certainly never wanted it this way.' But of course they did.

Evnissyen, having sown his evil far and wide, departed at once and no one knew where he had gone. Poor Bronwen, bereft of friendship and forsaken in her own house, grew weary and sick at heart. 'Lieu knows I have done nothing to deserve this. My kindness has been repaid with loneliness, and my generosity with endless work. This will not do at all.'

As it happened, Lieu, flying overhead in his accustomed form – that of a huge, black raven – heard Bronwen's lament. Well he remembered her former glory, and so swooped down to see if the affair might benefit from his intervention.

Alighting on Bronwen's kneading-trough as she toiled at the bread, he watched her with a bright black gem of an eye. She saw the raven and offered it a scrap of meat, which it gulped down at once and croaked its gratitude. She poured out some milk and gave it to the raven to drink, which it did with all speed. 'At least, my labours are appreciated by someone," sighed Bronwen mournfully. 'I give you good day, friend raven.'

Up spoke the raven. 'Daughter, who are you to toil without ceasing? Surely, you were born for better than this?'

'I am Bronwen, daughter of Llyr, and Bran the Blessed is my brother. You have spoken the truth, though you may not know it. For I was once a queen in my own land, and a queen here as well – and highly respected, though I say it myself.'

'What happened to bring you to this low estate?'

'You are wrong if you think that I caused my own undoing. I tell you truly, I am not loved in this place. Once, but no longer – owing to the wicked men who slandered me most cruelly.' She looked at the raven suspiciously. 'Not that it is anything to you.'

'Indeed, Sister, it is everything to me.'

'Who are you, bird, to take an interest in my sad plight?'

'Never mind about me. What are we to do about you?'

'A most vexing question. In vain have I sought for an answer through many long days of contemplation. For not only am I a slave here, no one may pass across the sea. My kinsmen might as well live in the Otherworld for all I can reach them.'

'Say no more,' croaked the raven. 'Ships may be prevented from sailing, but no one yet has discovered a way to hinder a bird from flying where it will.'

'Will you take a message to my brother, then?'

'Is that not what I am saying?'

'Well, I hope you speak more plainly to him than you do to me,' she snapped.

'Give me the message,' said Lieu in his raven's guise. 'Then stand you back and watch what will happen.'

So Bronwen told the raven all about her plight, then described Bran and what kind of man he was and where to find him. Away winged the big black bird to that fairest land across the sea.

The canny raven found Bran in his stronghold and spoke to him in private. Bran listened, becoming most distressed and outraged at his sister's disgrace. He thanked the raven and in the selfsame breath called for his advisers and counsellors and druids and any within the sound of his voice to assemble, whereupon he told them what had befallen Bronwen at Sechlainn's hands.

'How this could have happened, I cannot understand. I had the highest respect for that Irish king, and now this. Well, there is no trusting those quarrelsome dogs. Speak, Wise Sages! What say you, Counsellors? Advise me, Advisers! What am I to do about this?'

They all gazed in dismay at one another, then answered with a single voice. 'Your way is clear, lord and king. You must take your warband across the sea to save your sister and bring her back if you are to end this disgrace.'

Bran agreed. He raised his warband – and a better warband has not been seen on the Island of the Mighty from that time to this – and they steered their ships from Aber Menei to Ierne; each man among them armed and helmed, and each a better warrior than the last.

Now, Mallolwch's swineherds were down by the sea tending the pigs and they saw Bran's fleet coming. They threw down their staves and let the pigs scatter where they would, and ran to their lord who was holding court with his advisers.

'Lugh be good to you,' the Irish king said in greeting. 'What news do you bring me?'

'We have seen a wondrous sight, lord. And a more wondrous sight would be difficult to imagine,' the swineherds said.

Tell me then, for I would hear of it.'

They answered straightway, saying, 'Do not think us drunk, lord, but we have seen a forest arising on the sea where never was seen so much as a single tree. What is more, the forest is hastening this way. Think of that!'

'A strange sight, indeed,' replied Mallolwch. 'Did you see anything else?'

'In the centre of this forest, surrounded by it, we saw a mountain. Lightning broke from its brow and its crags were filled with roaring thunder.'

'A storming mountain surrounded by a forest,' mused Mallolwch. 'Coming this way, you say?'

'We do say it. What do you think it means?'

'On my life, I cannot think what it means. But the woman who was my wife is an intelligent being. Let us ask her.'

So the king and his advisers besought her, saying, 'Lady, tell us the meaning of this wonder we have seen.'

Though I am no longer a lady,' she replied, 'I know well enough what it is. Lieu knows it is a sight that has not been known in this worlds-realm for all these many years.'

'Will you tell us yet?'

'I will. It is nothing more nor less than the gathered warband of the Island of the Mighty, sailing to battle. I believe my brother Bran the Blessed has heard of my sore plight and is coming for me.'

'What is this forest we have seen?'

That is the masts and oars and spears of the ships and the warriors on them.'

'What is this mountain?'

That is none other than Bran himself in his towering rage.'

The Irish men heard this and were afraid. 'Lord, you cannot allow them to make war on us. They will slaughter us most frightfully.'

Mallolwch answered them bitterly. 'Lugh knows it is no more than you deserve for the trouble you have caused.'

'Fret us not with that,' the evildoers answered. 'Rather do your duty and protect us.'

'Because of you, that will not be easy to do. By Toutatis, you are a vile lot! I wish I had never known you. Nevertheless, I will do what seems best to me, and it is this: I will offer my kingship to my son, Gwern, Bran's own kin. He will not make war on his sister's son.' With this Mallolwch charged his messengers to bear these words to Bran when he came ashore.

The messengers obeyed and greeted Bran kindly as he waded ashore, his sword naked in his hand. 'What answer shall we take to our lord?' they asked when they had delivered their message.

'Tell your lord he shall have no answer from me until he brings me a better offer than I have heard just now.'

Back went the Irish men to their lord with the sound of ringing steel in their ears. 'Lord and protector,' they said, 'Bran says he will not give you an answer until he hears a better offer than the one you gave just now. Our advice is for you to prepare a better proposal, for we are not lying when we say that he will have none of the one you sent.'

Mallolwch nodded sadly. 'Then tell my brother Bran that I will build him the greatest stronghold this world has ever seen – with a hall big enough to hold all his people in one half, and all of mine in the other. Thus, he shall rule over leme and the Island of the Mighty, with me as his steward.'

The advisers came before Bran with this proposal, which pleased him when he heard it. The result was that he accepted it at once. In this way, peace was made and work begun on the stronghold and its enormous hall.

The men of Ierne toiled away to raise the timber, and they fell to discussing things, as workmen will do. Evnissyen, disguised as a workman, began complaining of the unfairness of Bran, and the harshness of his rule. Inspired by Evnissyen, they were soon saying things like: 'It is not fitting that our lord and king be made a steward in his own realm. This is a great dishonour for him, and for us as well, come to that.'

So the workmen set a trap. On every peg of every timber of the hall they fixed a large leather bag; inside every bag they put one of their most ferocious warriors.

When the hall was finished, Mallolwch sent word to Bran to come and take up residence. Evnissyen heard the summons and made certain to enter the hall before all the others. He scowled at the magnificent hall as if it were the most contemptible shepherd's bothy. And turning his cunning eyes on the leather bag nearest him, he said, 'What is that?'

'Barley,' replied one of the workmen.

On the pretence of examining the grain, Evnissyen reached into the bag, found the warrior's head and squeezed hard until he perceived his fingers crushing bone and sinking into brain.

As he did to that first bag, he did also to each bag in turn, until every one of two hundred warriors were killed and none were left in the land of the living. 'Now,' he smirked to himself, 'let the Irish men find this and they will howl with rage to think what Bran has done to their kinsmen.'

By this time the host had arrived. The men of the Island of the Mighty sat on one side of the great hearth, and the men of Ierne sat on the other. Peace was made and the Irish King removed his tore and held it out to Bran.

When Bran saw this he relented and said, 'I have a tore, lord, and lands and people enough. Only let my sister be reinstated in her proper place and I will be content.'

Mallolwch heard this and wept for joy. 'Truly, you are a blessed man,' he cried. 'You treat me better than I deserve.'

'How should I treat my own kin badly?' answered Bran.

'In token of your honour to me,' said the Irish king, 'let my son, your nephew, be brought forth. He will be crowned in my place, and I will serve him as I would serve you.'

Little Gwern was brought forward, and Mallolwch placed the tore upon his son's neck instead. Everyone who saw the boy loved him, for a more fair and honest boy there never was.

Up spoke Evnissyen, whose spirit writhed within him to behold the amity between the two peoples. 'Why does not my young kinsman come to me for a blessing?' he called, and the boy, fearing no harm, went to him gladly.

Ha! said the evil trickster to himself – be assured there was not the smallest grain of goodness in him – not even Lieu himself could foresee the outrage I will perform next. So saying, he seized the boy and threw him head first into the enormous fire, before anyone could lay a hand on him to stop him.

Bronwen saw the flames close about her dear little son and she cried out in horror and leapt towards him, as if to throw herself into the fire to save him. But there was nothing to be done. The flames were kindled hot and swiftly reduced the child to ashes.

Up jumped the men of Ynys Prydein with a shout. And this shout was echoed by the Irish men who, with Evnissyen's help, had discovered their murdered sword brothers. And never was there a greater commotion in all this worlds-realm than the one that followed, as each man reached for his weapons.

The fight, the battle, the slaughter that was made that night was worse – oh, far, far worse than any since the world began. The din sounded like thunder, the clash like a tempest. Blood rose to the thighs of the warriors and still they slew one another cruelly.

Meanwhile, Evnissyen was not idle. For when the battle raged white-hot, he crept into the shadows, striking here and there, stealing a life with every blow of his poisoned dagger. He saw Bran protecting his sister Bronwen between his shoulder and his shield, and he struck them both from behind, laughing as they fell from his blade.

More good men went to their deaths, and more good women were made widows than heaven has stars. When the men fell, their women took up arms, so that man, woman, and child fought to their deaths.

Bitter was the battle, and bitter the tears that followed. And long, long the mourning.

The sun shone raw and red and the sunrise like a wound in the east when the last foe laid down his arms for ever. Seven men only remained, staring at one another with blood in their eyes and on their hands.

Then the Bent One saw the survivors place the Cauldron of Rebirth upon the hearth, and they began putting the dead into it. Fearing that all his toil would be for nothing, Evnissyen crept in among the bare-bottomed corpses, lay down, and was tumbled into the cauldron with the rest.

Once inside, Evnissyen stretched out full length, pressing hands and feet against the sides of the cauldron. He pushed with all his might until the marvellous cauldron burst into four pieces and was ruined. As it happened, the wicked man's heart burst also and he died ignobly.

The survivors, all British men, came upon Bran who lay dying beside fair Bronwen. They fell on their knees and wept over him. 'Lord and king,' they wailed, 'the cauldron has burst and now we cannot save you.'

'Listen to me, my brothers,' Bran said, 'and do what I tell you. When I am dead, cut off my head and take it back with you to Ynys Prydein. There let you bury it on the White Hill overlooking Mor Hafren, where it will guard that sea gate from any intruder.

'I tell you the truth, for so long as you do not dig up the head no enemy will ever harm you. You will feast in the land of your fathers, Rhiannon's birds will sing to you, and eighty years will be as a single day. In this way, the head will be as good a companion to you as ever it was, for your joy and prosperity will be assured.

'But let anyone uncover the head and plague and war will come once more to the Island of the Mighty. And, once uncovered, you must hasten to bury it again where no one will ever think to find it, lest worse befall you.

'Now then, it is time for me to die. Do at once what I have commanded you.'

Sorrowfully, the British men did what their lord commanded. They sailed back over the sea to their homeland and buried the head where Bran had told them. And they buried Bronwen a little apart, but near the place where her brother's head rested, so that they could be together.

And, all at once, up sprang a great palace with walls and floors of polished stone that shone like gemstones in the sun. Inside they found an enormous hall and food of all kinds laid upon the groaning board. There was wine and mead and beer to drink. And whether food or drink it was the finest they had ever tasted. As they began to feast, three birds appeared on golden perches and all the most wonderful singing they had ever heard was like empty silence compared to the singing of these marvellous birds.

And the men forgot the sorrow of their lost kinsmen and companions, and remembered nothing of the grief they had seen and suffered, nor any other hardship in the world.

For eighty years they lived like this, their wealth and kin increasing, their joy abounding. The eighty years was called the Assembly of the Wondrous Head. By reason of this, the burial of Bran's head was called one of the Three Happy Concealments. For as long as the head remained undisturbed neither plague nor enemy came to the shores of Britain. So ends this branch of the Mabinogi.

The song finished, Myrddin lowered his harp in utter silence. The assembled kings and warriors deemed themselves in the presence of a True Bard and were mute as deer, eyes glowing as if enchanted, and perhaps they were. For certainly they had been held by this tale, and it had worked its subtle spell inside them.

And inside me as well. I, too, felt the tale as a living creation; I knew it to be alive in the way of all true tales. More the dread because of it! For I understood the deeper significance of the song, and I knew what it was the Emrys had sung:

Arthur's troubled reign, and the Enemy's hand in it.