The Castle of Llyr

Chapter 3 The Shoemaker

TARAN PALED. His head still whirled at seeing the Prince of Don in the guise of a shoemaker, and Gwydion's words left him all the more confused. "Our lives in danger?" he asked hurriedly. "Does Arawn of Annuvin seek us as far as Dinas Rhydnant?"

Gwydion motioned for Gurgi to stand guard at the portal and turned once more to Taran. "No," said Gwydion, with a quick shake of his head. "Though Arawn's wrath has grown to fury since the Black Cauldron was destroyed, the threat comes not from Annuvin."

Taran frowned. "Who then? There is none in Dinas Rhydnant who wishes us ill. You cannot mean that King Rhuddlum or Queen Teleria…"

"The House of Rhuddlum has always borne friendship to the Sons of Don and to our High King Math," replied Gwydion. "Look elsewhere, Taran of Caer Dallben."

"But who would harm Eilonwy?" Taran asked urgently. "It is known she is under Dallben's protection."

"There is one who would dare to stand against Dallben," Gwydion said. "One against whom my own powers may not suffice and whom I fear as much as Arawn himself." Gwydion's face was taut and his green eyes flickered with deep anger as he spoke one harsh word: "Achren."

Taran's heart chilled. "No," he whispered. "No. That evil enchantress is dead."

"So I, too, believed," Gwydion answered. "It is not true. Achren lives."

"She has not rebuilt Spiral Castle!" Taran cried, his thoughts flashing to the dungeon where Achren had held him prisoner.

"Spiral Castle still lies in ruins, as you left it," Gwydion said, "and grass already covers it. Oeth-Anoeth, where Achren would have given me to death, no longer stands. I have journeyed to those places and seen with my own eyes.

"You must know that I have long pondered her fate," Gwydion went on. "Of Achren there has not been the slightest sign, as though the earth had swallowed her. This troubled me and lay heavily on my heart, and I have never given up seeking traces of her.

"At last I found these traces," said Gwydion. "They were faint as words whispered in the wind, puzzling rumors that seemed at first no more than imaginings. A senseless riddle without an answer. Perhaps," Gwydion continued, "I should say an an­swer without a riddle; And it was only after long toil and hard journeying that I discovered part of that riddle. Alas, only a part."

Gwydion's voice lowered. As he spoke, his hands did not cease carving and shaping the unfinished sandal. "What I have learned is this. After Spiral Castle fell, Achren vanished. At first I believed she had sought refuge in the realm of Annuvin, for she had lived long as a consort of Arawn. Indeed, it was Achren who gave Arawn his power in the days when she herself ruled Prydain.

"But she did not go to Annuvin. Since she had let the sword Dyrnwyn slip from her hands, and failed to take my life, it may be that she feared Arawn's wrath. Perhaps she dared not face him, having been outwitted by a young girl and an Assistant Pig-Keeper. Of this, I am not certain. Nevertheless, she fled Prydain. Since then, no man knows what has befallen her. Yet even to know she is alive is cause enough for fear."

"Do you think she is on Mona?" Taran asked. "Does she seek vengeance on us? But Eilonwy was no more than a child when she escaped from Achren; she understood nothing of what she did."

"Wittingly or not, by taking Dyrnwyn from Spiral Castle, Eilonwy gave Achren her most grievous defeat," Gwydion said. "Achren does not forget or forgive." He knit his brows. "It is my fear that she seeks Eilonwy. Not only for revenge. I sense there is something other than that. It is hidden from me now, yet I must discover it without delay. More than Eilonwy's life may hang in the balance."

"If only Dallben had let her stay with us," Taran said in dismay. "He, too, must have known Achren was alive. Did he not realize Eilonwy would be in danger the moment she was beyond his protec­tion?"

"Dallben's ways are deep," said Gwydion, "and not always given to me to fathom. He knows much, but he foresenses more than he chooses to tell." Gwydion, putting down his awl, drew out a leather thong and began stitching it through the sandal. "Dallben sent me word that the Princess Eilonwy would voyage to Mona, and counseled me to turn my attention here. He told me, too, of certain other matters. But it is better not to speak of them now."

"I cannot sit idle while Eilonwy may be in peril," Taran insisted. "Is there no way I can serve you?"

"You shall serve me best by keeping silent," Gwydion answered. "Stay watchful. Say nothing of me or of what we have spoken, not to the Princess Eilonwy, not even to Fflewddur." He smiled. "Our eager bard saw me in the stables and luckily did not know me. Meantime, I shall…"

Before the Prince of Don could finish, Gurgi began waving his arms in warning. Footsteps rang in the corridor and Gwydion bent quickly to the task of fitting the sandals.

"Hullo, hullo!" cried Prince Rhun, striding into the chamber. "Ah, shoemaker, there you are. Have you done with your work? I say, they are handsome, aren't they?" he said, glancing at the sandals. "Amazingly well-made. I should like a pair myself. Oh― my mother asks to see you in the Great Hall," he added, turning to Taran.

Gwydion's face had fallen suddenly into lines and wrinkles; his shoulders were hunched and his voice shook with age. Without a further glance at Taran, Gwydion beckoned to Rhun. "Come with me, young Prince," he said. "you shall have sandals befitting your station."

As Kaw fluttered after him, Taran hurried from the chamber and down the corridor. Gurgi, round-eyed with fright, trotted beside him.

"Oh, fearsome danger!" Gurgi moaned. "Gurgi is sorry great enchanter sends us to place of peril. Gurgi wants to hide his poor tender head under kindly straw at Caer Dallben."

Taran warned him to silence. "Eilonwy is surely in more danger than we are," he whispered, hastening toward the Great Hall. "I don't like the thought of Achren turning up again any more than you do. But Gwydion is here to protect Eilonwy, and so are we."

"Yes, yes!" cried Gurgi. "Brave, loyal Gurgi will guard golden-haired Princess, too, oh yes; and she will be safe with him. But," he snuffled, "he still longs to be in Caer Dallben."

"Take heart, my friend," Taran said. He smiled and put a hand on Gurgi's trembling shoulder. "We companions shall see no ill befalls any of us. But remember― not a word that Gwydion is here. He has his own plans and we must do nothing to betray them."

"Gurgi will be silent!" Gurgi cried, clapping his hands to his mouth. "Oh, yes! But mind," he added, shaking a finger at Kaw, "that gossipy black bird does not tell with talkings and squawkings!"

"Silence!" Kaw croaked, bobbing his head. "Secrets!"

In the high-ceilinged Great Hall, with its flagstones that seemed to cover a space as large as the orchard at Caer Dallben, Taran caught sight of Eilonwy amid a group of court ladies. Some, of Eilonwy's age, were listening delightedly to the Princess; the rest, all of whom looked much like Queen Teieria, were frowning or whispering behind their hands. Magg, standing near the Queen's throne, watched impassively.

"…and there we stood," Eilonwy was saying, her eyes flashing, "back to back, sword in hand! The Huntsmen of Annuvin burst from the forest! They were upon us in a moment!"

The young girls.of the court gasped with excitement, while some of the older women gave horrified cluckings that reminded Taran of nothing so much as Coll's chicken run. Taran saw that Eilonwy wore a new cloak; her hair had been combed and dressed in a different fashion; among the ladies, she shone like a bird of golden plumage; and, with a curious twinge of heart, Taran realized that had it not been for her chattering he might not have known her.

"Good Llyr!" cried Queen Teleria, who had leaped from her throne as Eilonwy continued the tale of battle. "I'm beginning to think you haven't had a― my dear child, don't be so gleeful when you talk about hacking at people with swords― safe moment in your life." She blinked, shook her head, and fanned herself with a kerchief. "What a relief that Dallben has finally decided to be sensible and send you to us. If nothing else, you'll be out of harm's way."

Taran caught his breath, and it took all his strength to force himself not to shout Gwydion's warn­ing aloud.

"Ah, there you are!" Queen Teleria called, spy­ing Taran. "I had thought to speak to you about― that's right, young man, step up briskly, bow a little more deeply if you can, and, good Llyr, don't scowl so― the royal feast tonight. You shall be pleased to know that, in honor of all of you, we're planning to invite a perfectly wonderful bard, who claims to be a bard, that is, and who claims, by the way, to know you."

"The self-styled bard," said Magg, with ill-concealed distaste at the mention of Fflewddur, "has already been commanded to present himself at the feast."

"Therefore, in the matter of new garments," Teleria went on, "you had better go with Magg immediately and find some."

"That has been seen to, as well, Lady Teleria," murmured the Chief Steward, handing Taran a neatly folded cloak and jacket.

"Wonderful!" Teleria cried. "All that remains to be done is― well, I do believe everything has been done! I suggest, then, Taran of Caer Dallben, that you go and make yourself― don't frown so, you'll look old before your time― ready."

Taran hardly had finished bowing to Queen Teleria when Eilonwy seized him and Gurgi by the arms and hastily drew them away. "You've seen Fflewddur, of course," she whispered. "Now it's getting to be more like old times. What a blessing to have him here! I've never met such silly women! Why, I don't think there's one of them that's ever drawn a sword! All they want to talk about is sewing and embroidery and weaving, and how to run a castle. The ones who have husbands are always complaining about them, and the ones who haven't are always complaining about the lack of them. They've never been out of Dinas Rhydnant in their lives! I told them a thing or two about some of our adventures; not the best ones― I'm saving those for later, when you can be there to tell your part in them.

"What we'll do," Eilonwy hurried on, her eyes sparkling, "after the feast, when no one's watching, we'll get hold of Fflewddur and go exploring for a few days. They'll never miss us; there's so many people coming and going around here. There's bound to be a few adventures on Mona, but we certainly won't find them in this stupid castle. Now, first thing, you must look out a sword for me― I wish I'd brought one from Caer Dallben. Not that I think we'll need swords, but it's better to have them just in case. Gurgi, of course, shall bring along his wallet of food―"

"Eilonwy," Taran interrupted, "this cannot be."

"How's that?" asked Eilonwy. "Oh, very well, you needn't bother with swords then. We'll just go adventuring as we are." She hesitated. "What's the matter with you? I must say, you have the strangest expressions on your face from time to time. Right now, you look as if a mountain were about to fall on your head. As I was saying…"

"Eilonwy," Taran said firmly, "you are not to leave Dinas Rhydnant."

Eilonwy, so surprised she stopped talking for a moment, stared at him open-mouthed. "What?" she cried. "What did you say? Not leave the castle? Taran of Caer Dallben, I think the salt air must have pickled your wits!"

"Listen to me," Taran said gravely, searching his mind for some means to warn the startled girl without revealing Gwydion's secret, "Dinas Rhydnant is― unfamiliar to us. We know nothing of Mona. There may be― dangers that we…"

"Dangers!" cried Eilonwy. "You can be sure of that! And the biggest is that I'll be bored to tears! Don't think for an instant I mean to wear out my days in this castle! You, of all people, tell me I'm not to go adventuring! What, really, is the matter with you? I'm ready to believe you dropped your courage over the side of Rhun's ship along with the anchor stone!"

"It is not a question of courage," Taran began. "It is the better part of wisdom to…"

"Now you're talking about wisdom!" Eilonwy cried. "Before, that was the last thing in the world you thought about!"

"This is different," Taran said. "Can you not understand?" he pleaded, though he saw dearly from Eilonwy's face that his words made no sense to her. For an instant he was tempted to blurt out the tiuth. Instead, he took the girl by the shoulders. "You are not to set foot outside this place," he ordered angrily. "And if I think you have any idea of doing so, I shall ask King Rhuddlum to set a guard over you."

"What?" cried Eilonwy. "How dare you!" Tears suddenly filled her eyes. "Yes, I do understand! You're glad I've been sent to this wretched island and these clucking hens! You couldn't wait for a chance to be rid of me! You actually want me to stay here and be lost in this dreadful castle. That's worse than putting someone's head in a sack of feathers!" Sobbing, Eilonwy stamped her foot. "Taran of Caer Dallben, I'm not speaking to you any more!"