The Paradise War

Chapter 37 The King's Champion

The gates of Findargad were thrown open wide, and everyone-men and warriors, women, and children, dancing in their joy and rapture-streamed out to prove beyond all doubt that Lord Nudd and the Demon Host of the Coranyid were gone. The enemy had indeed been driven back into the nether realms of the underworld, leaving only the filthy snow behind-and that was rapidly melting under the bright-kindled sun. Gone, too, was the oppressive stink and stench, banished by Gyd's fresh winds. The Llwyddi rushed here and there beneath the wall, and the scattered fragments of the song-laden stones were gathered by hundreds of eager, happy hands.

Tegid continued to dance along the walltop to where I was standing with the king. «The enemy is defeated! Your kingdom is free of their defilement. Will you put aside your geas and speak to your people now, Great King?» he asked.

But the king raised his tear-stained face, and beckoned his bard close. Tegid inclined his ear to the king's mouth, whereupon the bard raised his hands and called out to all gathered on the wall and below it. «People of Prydaini» he cried. «Hear the words of your king: This day is our enemy defeated. This night we will celebrate the victory in the king's hail. Three days we will feast and take our rest; but, on the fourth day, we will leave this place and return to our homes in the lowlands.»

Then the king left the wall and returned to his chambers. I watched as he walked alone across the yard. Prince Meidron and Paladyr approached him as he neared the entrance to the hail. The king stopped and turned stiffly to meet them. The three stood together for a moment. I could not hear what was said, but I saw Prince Meidron make a quick, violent gesture towards the open gate. The king stared at his son for a moment, then turned away without reply and proceeded to the hail. The prince and Paladyr then hastened away; they passed from my sight beneath the wall and I did not see them any more.

The preparations for the feast continued all through the day. The sun remained bright and the clouds disappeared, and we began to believe that Gyd, the fairest of seasons, had at last returned to Prydain. After bleak Sollen's endless reign, we had feared the world would never more enjoy the bounty of the sun. Accordingly, we revelled in the warmth as we went about our chores.

I searched for Simon-Siawn Hy-both inside and outside the wall, but could not find him in the general bustle to make ready the celebration. All too soon the sunlight faded to dusk, and the chill of night returned. It was with great reluctance that we kindled the torches in Findargad's hail at dusk, even though it meant that the feast could begin. As I stood in the throng outside the hail, waiting to enter, I thought I saw Siawn standing among the warriors of the prince's Wolf Pack. But, by the time I had worked my way over to the place, they had gone inside and I lost him again.

Sweet mead shone rich and golden in the countless cups that circled the king's hail. The hearthfire leapt high and the torches and rushlights burned bright, and we drank to victory and the vanquishing of foes, in the shimmering firelight. Everyone-warriors and men, maidens and wives, children and babes-everyone joined in the celebration. We ate and drank and sang. How we sang! The night was transformed into a beautiful praise song, a glittering gem of gladness and thanksgiving to the Swift Sure Hand for our deliverance.

And when we had eaten and drunk enough to make us merry, and sung the songs of liberation, Tegid called for the king's throne to be brought into the hail. A number of warriors hastened to the king's chamber, took up the throne and carried it on their shoulders into the ball. Whereupon the king, looking more like the Meldryn Mawr I had first encountered-all glittering and golden in his fmery-with little evidence of his recent illness, took his place at the head of his hail, and, with wide sweeps of his arms, motioned for all the people to gather and draw near.

Because of his vow, the king did not speak outright, but directed the gathering through the voice of his bard. Tegid relayed the king's words, saying, «Tonight, while the light of life burns in us, it is right to sing and dance our delight in the victory we have been granted. But let us pause to remember our kinsmen who lost their lives to Nudd.»

At this, Tegid began to sing a lament for the dead. It was a well-known lament, and he was not more than a few words into the song when everyone in the hall joined in. I did not know the song, but it was beautiful as it was sorrowful, and heartbreakingly sad. I could not have sung; just to hear it, my eyes filled with tears and my throat swelled so that I could hardly breathe.

Others wept too, their eyes shining with tears in the torchlight as they sang. When the song was fmished, silence filled the hail. The last notes lingered long in the empty places. After a time, the king leaned again to his Chief of Song, and Tegid said, «We have remembered the honorable dead as it is right to do. Now, let us pay homage to the living who have earned the hero's portion with their feats of courage and valor.»

To my amazement, the first name called was my own. «Llyd, come to the throne.»

A way opened before me through the crowd, and I stepped forward hesitantly. I was aware, once again, of the stares my appearance provoked, and the hushed exdamations of astonishment. But why? Had I changed so much? The king beckoned me to stand before him; whereupon he removed a gold ring from his fmger and held it out to me. I reached out to take it and he grasped me by the wrist, and turned me to face the crowd.

«You, above all men, are to be honored this night,» Tegid said, speaking loudly so that he could be heard by all. «At great danger and sacrifice, you brought the enchanted stones from their hiding place and conceived the plan by which they might be used to defeat our enemy. Without the stones we could never have prevailed against Nudd and his demon brood of Coranyid. Therefore, receive the gratitude of your king.»

The Great King stood and, still holding my wrist, raised my hand high before the close-gathered throng. Taking the ring, he slipped it onto my finger. I saw torchlight glinting in a thousand watching eyes and heard the undercurrent of amazement buzzing through the ball. Again I felt the eerie and unaccountable sensation that people were awed by my appearance.

I had no time to wonder over this. Tegid lifted his hands, palms outward in declamation, and loudly proclaimed, «Let it be known that your king has set a high value upon your skill and courage. From this night you are champion to the king. In recognition of this honor, henceforth are you named Llew. Let all men greet you thus from this time forth: Hail, Llew, Champion to the King!»

«Liew! LIew!» the people cried in fervent reply. Indeed, they seemed eager to respond. «Hail, Llew! King's Champion!» Their voices filled the hail from hearthstone to rooftree, and I trembled inside myself: Llew, the name of Albion's savior, was now my name. What the Banflith had predicted was coming to pass.

Had I known what Tegid was contemplating, I wouldhave prevented him-and I was not the only one. For, as I took my place at the king's right hand, I chanced to see Paladyr standing aloof, clearly furious at the staggering insult that had been paid him. Nor did I blame him. For Paladyr had been deposed as champion without being given the chance to defend his exalted position; he was disgraced before his kinsmen and swordbrothers. A greater humiliation could not have been contrived for him.

Other gifts were given out-brooches and gemstones and armbands of silver and gold. Other names were lauded, other deeds acclaimed. I saw little of it, and heard less. My mind whirled, desperately trying to discover a way to dissuade Paladyr from challenging me to single combat in an attempt at reclaiming his position. He would move heaven and earth to restore his honor-it was worth his life and more. A warrior without honor suffered shame worse than death. Indeed, I entertained no hope at all that he would ignore the slight: his pride was greater than the king's, and Meldryn Mawr's held all Albion in its sway.

So I stood beside the king-in Paladyr's place-frantically searching for a way to disentangle myself from this grim, and likely fatal, predicament. I looked over the throng in the ball, hoping to catch fresh sight of the king's former champion; but I could not see him. Still, I imagined I could feel his seething wrath-like a bonfire fanned by a gale, burning wild, out of control.

When the last warrior had been summoned and the last gift given, King Meldryn ordered the celebration to continue. The instant I saw my chance, I grabbed Tegid by the arm. «Why have you done this to me?»

«I did nothing,» he told me flatly. «It is the king's privilege to choose a new champion and to name him. He has done so. And I find no fault in the choice.»

«Paladyr will kill me! He will have my head on his spear. You must speak to the king.»

«This is a supreme honor. It is your right; you have earned it.»

«I do not want it! Take it back!»

Tegid made a sour face. «I do not understand you, Liew.»

«I am not Llew!» I growled. «I want no part of it! Do you understand?»

«It is too late,» he said glancing away.

«Why?»

«Paladyr-he is coming.»

Striding toward us through the slowly dispersing crowd came Paladyr. He wore no expression, but his eyes were alive with anger. I braced myself and turned to meet him. He stopped before me, glowering. Before I could open my mouth to offer a word of conciliation, he placed a hand to my chest and shoved me aside. The people saw this and halted where they stood; no one moved, no one breathed. The hail grew instantly silent.

Paladyr continued to the foot of the king's throne and threw himself down before it. Meidryn Mawr gazed upon the prostrate man impassively. Tegid hurried to the king's side, and, after a quick consultation, said, «What do you seek by coming before your king in this way?»

The former champion remained face down before the throne; not a muscle twitched. The king whispered to Tegid, who nodded and addressed the prostrate warrior. «Rise, Paladyr,» the bard said. «If you have something to say, stand on your feet and speak it out.»

At this, Paladyr rose to stand before the king. He appeared humble, but not altogether humiliated, as he stretched forth his empty hands to the king. «What wrong do you lay on my head that I should be thrust aside in this way?»

«Do you suggest that your king has treated you unfairly?» Tegid asked.

«I demand to know why I have been cast aside,» he replied sullenly.

«It is not your place to demand, Paladyr,» the bard observed. «It is your place to obey. Nevertheless, the king is mindful of your loyal service, and for this reason he will answer you.»

«Answer, then,» Paladyr said, barely containing himself. «But I would hear it from the king's mouth-not yours, bard.»

Meidryn Mawr inclined his head towards Tegid, who bent to hear him, then straightened and said, «By reason of the king's geas, this cannot be. But hear the king's word and receive it, if you will. Thus says your king: those who serve me must remain true to me, and to me alone. You, Paladyr, were first in loyalty. So long as your fealty remained true, you were champion to the king. But you put your loyalty aside when you chose to follow Prince Meldron. Therefore, I have put you aside.» Tegid paused. «Your king has spoken.»

These words seemed to have great effect on the man. Instantly, he appeared humble and contrite. «This rebuke is hard, 0 King,» he said. «But I accept your judgment; only allow me to swear again the oath of fealty, and pledge again my loyalty.»

King Meidryn nodded slowly, and Paladyr stepped forward, his head low, his arms limp. He sank to his knees before the throne and fell upon the king in a great show of repentance and remorse. He placed his head against the king's chest, and cried out in a loud voice, «Forgive me, 0 King!»

Meldryn Mawr raised his hand and seemed about to speak. But the hand faltered and fell away; the king closed his mouth and bowed his head over his once-esteemed champion. It was a most affecting display, touching all who looked on.

After a moment, Tegid said, «Paladyr, speak again the oath of fealty.» And he began to recite the words which the former champion was to say.

But Paladyr did not answer. He did not even wait for Tegid to finish. Instead, he rose to his feet, stood over the king for a moment, and then turned his back on the throne. All eyes watched him as the former champion hastened from the hall.

The chorus of murmured astonishment which followed Paladyr's baffling behavior quickly turned to cries of shock and disbelief when someone shouted, «Murder! The king is slain!»

The words were sharp as knives. Like everyone else, I had been watching Paladyr. At the first cry of murder, I whirled back to see Meidryn Mawr still sitting on his throne, head bowed forward, hands in his lap. He appeared in the same attitude as a moment before. He had not moved.

And then I saw it: Paladyr's knife jutting out of the middle of Meidryn's chest, just below the breastbone. Blood, spreading in a brilliant crimson bloom, seeped slowly from the wound. The king was dead.

For the space of three heartbeats, the hail held its breath in a horrified hush. Then everything happened at once.

Tegid shouted, «Stop him! Seize him!»

The crowd surged towards the throne. Someone screamed.

In the crush, I fought to join Tegid. More screams. Cries of outrage. Panic. The door to the hail slammed shut. The sound echoed like thunder. Warriors shouted confused orders. The air shimmered with the ring of drawn weapons.

Prince Meldron materialized from nowhere, holding up his hands and loudly proclaiming, «Peace! Peace! Do not be afraid! I am here! Your king is here!»

And there was Siawn Hy-standing beside the prince, brandishing an upraised sword, as if he would protect his lord from attack. Attack from whom? I wondered.

Fortunately, the sight of Meldron in control bad a reassuring effect. The panic and confusion subsided at once.

«Wolf Pack!» Meidron called, and the warriors of his elite warband pushed through the crowd at the foot of the throne.

«Ride after Paladyr. Hunt him down and bring him back.

But bring him to me alive. Do you hear? He is not to be harmed!»

The warriors, all except Siawn who stayed by the prince, pledged themselves to the task and hurried away. The prince turned to Tegid who was bending over the king's body. «He is dead?» the prince said, less a question than a statement of an obvious fact.

The bard straightened; his face, drained of color, appeared ashen and grim, and his voice trembled-but whether with sorrow or anger, or some other emotion, I could not tell.

«The knife pierced his heart,» Tegid intoned. «The king is dead.» To me, he said, «Gather some men. We will move the king to his chamber.»

Three warriors joined us and we carefully raised the body and bore it up between us. We carried the king to his chamber and laid him in his sleeping place. Tegid removed his cloak and spread it over the king; he then dismissed the warriors and commanded them to guard the door.

I looked at Tegid standing over the body, chin in hand, deep in thought. I hardly knew what to say or think. It seemed so unreal, so dreamlike. Yet there lay Meldryn Mawr… dead. And, as his champion, it was my duty to protect him.

«Tegid-I… I am sorry,» I stammered, coming to stand beside him.

«Did you know what was in Paladyr's heart?» he asked coldly.

«Well. . . no, I-«

«Could you have prevented it?»

«No. But I-«

«Then you have no cause to reproach yourself.» Though his voice was soft, his tone was adamant. «Neither do I reproach you.»

«But I was his champion!» I insisted. «I stood by while Paladyr killed him. I did nothing. I-I should have.., done something. I should have protected him.»

The bard stooped to smooth the cloak over the corpse. He straightened abruptly and took hold of my arm. «Hear me now, Llew,» he said quietly, but firmly. «The king's life belongs to his people. If one of his own determines to take that life by treachery, no force on earth can prevent it.»

Tegid spoke a hard, hard truth. I understood him, but it would be a long time before I could accept it.

«What are we to do now?»

The bard turned once more to the king. «The body must be prepared for burial. Once we have observed the death rites, a new king wilibe chosen.»

«Prince Meidron said-«

«Prince Meidron has overreached himself,» Tegid replied coldly. «Meldron must submit to the will of the bards.»

In Albion the Derwyddi chose the king, and the kingship did not routinely pass from father to son. Rather, any worthy member of the clan could become king if the bard chose him. They valued the kingship much more highly than to hand it down like a used garment. Instead, the king was chosen from among the best men in the clan.

«I see,» I told him. «But you are the only bard left among the Liwyddi-the only bard left in Albion, for all we know.»

«Then I alone will choose.» He offered a bleak smile, and added, «I hold the kingship now, brother. I bestow it where I will.»