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fallen warriors. Gwydion then led the companions to the Great Hall.
"Arawn Death-Lord gives us little time for grief, and we shall mourn others, I fear, before our tasks are
done," he said. "I must tell you now of a choice carefully to be weighed.
"Gwystyl of the Fair Folk has left us, and continues his journey to King Eiddileg's realm. Before we
parted, he told me further of the gathering of Arawn's hosts. Magg's words were not evil boasting.
Gwystyl judges, as do I, that Arawn means to defeat us in one last battle. His armies gather even now.
"There is grave risk, and perhaps fatal risk, in leaving Dyrnwyn in Arawn's grasp," Gwydion went on.
"Yet we must face the more pressing danger. No longer will I seek the black sword. Whatever strength it
may yield him, in my own strength I will stand against him to the death. I ride not to Annuvin but to Caer
Dathyl to rally the Sons of Don."
No one spoke for some moments. At length Coll replied. "To my mind, you have chosen wisely, Prince
of Don."
Smoit and Fflewddur Fflam nodded their agreement.
"Would that I were as sure of my wisdom," Gwydion replied heavily. "So be it then."
Taran rose and faced Gwydion. "Is there no way one of us can breach the Death-Lord's stronghold?
Must the search for Dyrnwyn indeed be given up?"
"I read your thoughts, Assistant Pig-Keeper," Gwydion replied. "You will serve me best if you obey my
commands. Gwystyl warns that a journey to Annuvin can mean only wasted life--- and more than that: a
loss of precious time. Gwystyl's nature is to conceal his nature, but among the Fair Folk none is shrewder
or more trustworthy. I heed his warning, and so must all of you.
"Gwystyl has promised to do all in his power to gain help from the Fair Folk," Gwydion went on. "King
Eiddileg has no great fondness for the race of men. Yet even he must see that Arawn's victory would
blight all Prydain. The Fair Folk would suffer no less than we.
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"But we dare not count too heavily on Eiddileg. Our own armies must be gathered, and our battle host
raised. In this, our greatest help will come from King Pryderi of the West Domains. No lord in Prydain
commands a mightier army. His allegiance to the House of Don is firm, and between us are strong bonds
of friendship. I will send word to Pryderi, and pray him to join his host with ours at Caer Dathyl.
"There must we all meet," Gwydion continued. "Before then, I ask King Smoit to muster every loyal
warrior in his cantrev and the dominions closest to his." He turned to the bard. "Fflewddur Fflam Son of
Godo, you are a king in your own Northern Realms. Return there without delay. To you I entrust the
rallying of the northern cantrevs.
"And you, Assistant Pig-Keeper," Gwydion said, seeing the question in Taran's eyes, "your own task is
urgent. You are well known to the folk of the Free Commots. I charge you to raise whatever force you
can among them. Lead all who will follow you to Caer Dathyl. Gurgi and Coll Son of Collfrewr will ride
with you. So, too, will the Princess Eilonwy. Her safety is in your hands."
"I'm glad," Eilonwy murmured, "there's been no talk of sending me home."
"Gwystyl tells us many of Arawn's liegemen are already marching," Coll said to her. "The Valley
Cantrevs are too dangerous, whatever. Otherwise, Princess," he added with a grin, "you would long
since have been on your way to Caer Dallben."
WELL BEFORE DAWNGwydion and Fflewddur Fflam rode from Caer Cadarn, each to follow his
separate path. King Smoit, girded for battle, set out from the castle, and with him went Lord Gast and
Lord Goryon, who had learned belatedly of the attack on their king and now hastened to join him. Faced
with the common danger, the two rivals had put aside their quarrel. Goryon declined to take insult at
Gast's every word, Gast refrained from giving offense to Goryon, and neither so much as mentioned
cows.
That same morning a gnarled, gray-headed farmer strode up to Taran in the castle courtyard. It was
Aeddan, who had befriended him long before in Smoit's cantrev. The two clasped hands warmly, but the
farmer's face was grim.
"There is no time now to speak of time past," Aeddan said. "I offer you friendship--- and this," he
added, unsheathing a rusted sword. "It has served once and can serve again. Say where you ride and I
will go with you."
"I value the sword, and value more the man who bears it," answered Taran. "But your place is with your
king. Follow him and hope that you and I will meet on a happier day."
As Gwydion had ordered, Taran and the remaining companions waited at Smoit's castle, hoping Kaw
might arrive with further tidings. But when the following day brought no sign of the crow, they made
ready for their own departure. Eilonwy's needlework had gone unscathed and she carefully unfolded it.
"You're a war leader now," she said proudly to Taran, "but I've never heard of a war leader without a
battle flag."
With leather thongs she bound the still-unfinished embroidery to the end of a spear.
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"There," said Eilonwy. "As an emblem Hen Wen may not be properly terrifying. And yet, for an
Assistant Pig-Keeper, she's very likely the most fitting."
They rode through the gates. Gurgi, at Taran's side, raised the spear high and the wind caught at the
banner of the White Pig. Above the smoke-blackened fortress and the burial mound, whose fresh earth [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]