To Carry the Horn

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

George emerged from the council room to discover the pre-dinner crowd beginning to assemble in the front rooms. He headed directly across the great hall to a large library and music room which was the counterpart of the council room on the other side of the house. On the right, the doorway led to the hunting room with its weapons at the back of the manor, but here it was all wooden shelves, hanging instruments, and carpets on the floor. The shared wall with the great hall was lined with simple upright chairs for musicians, and the rest of the room sported comfortable armchairs and tables for talking or listening.

Not many people were in the room yet. He spotted Rhian with Rhys and walked over to them.

Rhian gripped his arm, “Everyone says you’re going to stay for the great hunt. Did you really save my foster-father and then charge through the way and kill several soldiers?”

Startled, he said. “Not exactly. I just got carried away and had a brief encounter, after which Gwyn arrived and rescued me. Where did you hear all this?”

Rhys said, “Eurig’s been telling your tale, and it grows with each retelling.”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head ruefully. “Well, nothing I can do about it now. Rhian, could I speak with you for a moment?”

“Shall I leave?” Rhys asked.

“Maybe you should hear this, too. I’ve spoken with Gwyn, and he’s given me permission to begin training novice huntsmen for when I have to leave again. I’ll put the question to you first, Rhys. I understand you’ve been whipping-in for Iolo. Are you interested in learning to be huntsman?”

“I will if I must, but I’d rather learn to govern, like my foster-father. My heart wouldn’t be in it.”

“I thought that might be so. Rhian,” he said, smiling down at her eager face, “last night you mentioned a wish. Is that still true?”

“Oh, yes!”

“It would mean long hours and hard work, and will take some time away from your other studies.”

“I can do that.”

“Pay attention. Those who killed Iolo may try for me, and for any trainees. There’s real danger here. Gwyn said you could make your own choice, though I have misgivings about it.”

Rhys looked down at his little sister. “Rhian, I fear for your safety. It’s your choice, but if you do this I insist you learn more serious fighting skills.”

“Yes, I will,” she said earnestly. “And yes, I want to do this, very much.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you at kennels, mounted, immediately after breakfast.”

“There you are.” A voice hailed them from across the room as a tall man with light brown hair strode briskly over. He looked to be about George’s age. “I know those robes, don’t I?” he said, with a smile.

“George, this is our cousin Rhodri who was gracious enough to lend you clothing last night. Without his knowledge.” Rhys turned to Rhodri. “Sorry, cousin, there was nothing else to fit him. This is our newly found kinsman, George Talbot Traherne.”

George extended the right half of the robe as he had in the meadow to show the arrow hole. “And just see what a mess I’ve made. Very sorry.”

“Well, you’ll just have to keep them, then. I never did like such a somber color anyway.” And indeed he was dressed in vivid robes himself, purple with swirls of gold and scarlet.

Rhodri continued, “I heard about the excitement at the burning ground. Welcome, kinsman. You seem to have arrived just in time to be useful. Always the best way. And speaking of ways, I understand you’ve learned some interesting things. There’s to be a meeting after dinner this evening to explore the topic, Gwyn tells me.”

As they stood around chatting, waiting for dinner, George was taken with the easy family ways of his companions. It struck him that he was part of the same family, that they really were kinsmen. With Rhodri, someone his own age, he felt less like a visiting uncle and more like a brother. As an only child raised by grandparents, it was a very odd sensation to be adopted like this. Mustn’t get too used to it, he thought. They have their own lives to lead, and so will I, when I return.

Rhian could scarcely focus on Rhodri’s banter with her brother and George for all the excitement buzzing in her head. It was finally going to happen. Her cousin had persuaded Gwyn to let her understudy as huntsman. And Gwyn let her join the council, too. He could hardly resume throwing her out again now.

Don’t get too carried away, she told herself sternly. They may be treating you like a grown-up, but you’re a very junior one. Now you can find yourself in a whole different kind of trouble, maybe get yourself killed. You’ll be responsible for hounds, and they can be hurt or killed, too.

This sobered her.

The huntsman has the welfare of the pack, the staff, and the field following as his responsibility, she thought. People do get killed, hunting. You’re asking to take that on, too. It’s not just about fun with the hounds.

She looked up at George. What sort of leader will he be? I wish I’d seen him bringing the hounds back, and him not knowing how to speak to them. You know, I’m glad I’ll have a mentor to show me what to do. It seems so easy and wonderful when you dream about it, but that’s a child’s dream. She stood straighter. I’m not a child any more.

What’ll happen after the great hunt? Will I be expected to carry on as huntsman after George? There was a thought to made her stomach clench. Better do my best to learn while I can.

What will self-defense training be like? I’ll have to talk to Hadyn.

Wait till Isolda hears about this.

Tonight, more people were at dinner, and Rhodri joined the family group on the dais, seating himself between George and Rhian. He kept up a running commentary on the notables in the hall.

“Have you met my lady’s guests?” he asked, sotto voce, nodding his head at Creiddylad in reply to her nod of recognition. “That bodyguard of hers, the famous Mederei, is a stunner, but rumor has it that they are mutually otherwise engaged.” Rhys, on George’s other side, choked on his wine and Rhian’s eyes widened.

“I’ve never liked the look of that Madog fellow,” he continued. “Some permanent guest of hers. He doesn’t say much but he’s always around, watching. I’ve heard he lives over here somewhere, but not as part of Gwyn’s court. Why is that, do you suppose? Where does he go when she leaves? Ceridwen sits down there probing him but I don’t think she learns much.”

“If Gwyn thinks he’s a threat, why does he invite him?”

“He’s Creiddylad’s guest, and Gwyn forbids her little. Besides, if he’s an enemy, better to keep him close.”

George encouraged him. “What else can you tell me? Who are the other players and what are the factions?”

“Oh, except for Creiddylad it’s pretty friendly right now. Those are almost all locals, out there, and they’re mostly a good sort, more worried about marriage schemes and farming than treason. Wait until the big players arrive in the next few days.”

“What will that be like? I have to, well, debut in a week as huntsman.”

“They won’t approve, for starters. They don’t like change, and they don’t much care for humans, however willingly Gwyn may acknowledge your descent. Most think it wrong to dilute the blood; they think it’s a weakness on his part that they can exploit.

“It’ll be interesting to see whether their concern for the continuation of the hunt outweighs their distaste for the proposed huntsman. After all, what choice will they have? Many would like to see Gwyn embarrassed, as a setback to the growth of his power, but that doesn’t mean they want to see this realm lost to him and all their holdings put at risk. They’re not prepared for that.”

“Somebody is,” George said, “or Iolo would still be alive.”

“Very true. Don’t forget you have active enemies already in place. They couldn’t have anticipated your presence disrupting their plans. If you can hunt the hounds, then you must be eliminated, too, or Iolo’s murder will have been pointless.”

He looked directly at George. “They may wait to see if you’ll fail, first, before moving against you. I would. Or they may just take the simple route and dispose of you anyway, to return to the original plan. And, incidentally, to demonstrate that Gwyn can’t protect his own people.”

“If there’s an emergency, who can I rely on?”

“Of these here, Idris and Ceridwen. Don’t trust Creiddylad—guard your tongue and your person from her and hers. If you’re caught outside the grounds,” he looked over the guests, “Eurig, there, is a good choice. His lands are the first large settlement to the north beyond Daear Llosg. Everyone discounts him as past his prime and out of circulation, but he likes it that way, encourages it. He’s unquestionably loyal, cunning as a badger, and well prepared. He also clearly approves of you, which will count in your favor with many of the others.”

Idris leaned over Rhys and passed the word: there would be a meeting after dinner.

The same group was gathered around the council table as the night before, with the addition of Rhodri.

Gwyn started by saying, “If anyone doesn’t already know, let me say that my great-grandson George has agreed to hunt the hounds for us on Nos Galan Gaeaf. The first public hunt will be in one week’s time.”

He asked George to recount the events on Daear Llosg, and followed up with his own actions. “These were unmarked warriors. They carried no colors, and I didn’t recognize them. The arrows were fletched in the old style.” He reached behind his seat and tossed an arrow onto the table for all to look at, the one that had missed him. George noted the bright yellow fletching. “The other end of the way must be based locally—it was the same time of day and weather.”

Ceridwen asked, “What’s been done to shut this way?”

“Idris has posted guards around it for tonight,” Gwyn said. “I want George, Rhodri, and you with me there at mid-morning tomorrow.”

George leaned toward Rhodri and muttered, “I’ll be in kennels. Can you fetch me for this?” Rhodri nodded.

Creiddylad spoke up. “Shall I attend, brother?”

“I don’t know why this should interest you, sister, but you must do as you please.”

“I wonder why you are taking your kinsman away from his kennel duties, brother. He’ll need all his time to prepare.”

Because I can see the ways, thought George, but something cautioned him against saying anything about it. He noted that she considered him her brother’s kinsman, not her own.

Gwyn replied smoothly, “Because I wish it, sister.”

Ceridwen reported the results of interviews with the guards, now that they had all checked in. Unsurprisingly, there was simply too much gate traffic to provide any useful information.

“And the spell-stick?” asked Gwyn.

“Frustratingly anonymous, my lord. Some clues in the writing make me think it isn’t local. We tend to keep older words longer here, as colonies do, and where we’d use one word, a more modern one’s been substituted. Anything to add, my lady?” she asked Creiddylad.

“No, I could do nothing with it.”

After a few more questions, Gwyn dismissed them, and the meeting started to break up.

After Creiddylad left the room, George turned to Rhodri at the table. “I clearly need more information about this whole ‘way’ business, and everyone tells me you’re the expert. Can we spend some time on this, and soon?”

“Let’s do it tomorrow, with whatever Gwyn has planned. It’s good you said nothing about it in front of Creiddylad. Keep it a secret as long as possible.”

As he re-entered the great hall, George felt a touch at his elbow and turned to discover Ifor Moel standing behind him with a handful of papers.

“My lord Gwyn has asked me to provide for your needs while you’re here. May we go to my office to discuss it?”

He led the way outside to a stone building next to Ceridwen’s. A central area with seating was surrounded by several rooms set up as offices. Ifor said, “Many of the people who administer Gwyn’s lands take a room here, for offices, except for those like Iolo or Ceridwen who need their own elsewhere. The important records are kept in Gwyn’s council room, but all the day-to-day material’s here.”

He opened the door of the first room on the right. Shelves lined the walls and chests were piled high at the far end. At Ifor’s gesture, George took a seat in front of a heavy wooden desk. “The second floor’s used for storage, but I fear we’re filling the place up.”

Ifor hauled a ledger down and opened it at the desk. Dipping a pen in ink, he started to make notes on a piece of paper.

“Iolo’s customary expenses included the maintenance of his horses. Your own horse will of course be supported, but you’ll need at least two more.”

“So,” he continued, “you should take over Iolo’s three horses for now. Look them over and see if they suit you.”

He paused to make a few notes.

“Then there’s the matter of livery and other clothing. Iolo’s coats won’t fit you but perhaps the shirts can be adapted for work. Certainly you’ll need appropriate clothing for hunting immediately, and you’ll need work clothing for the kennels, evening clothing, and ordinary wear. Boots and shoes, too. And all of this as quickly as possible, since you must be properly clad when the public hunting resumes in a week.”

He rubbed his chin. “I’ll ask Olwen to send someone to measure you and go through Iolo’s clothing to rescue anything suitable. She can oversee most of the work you need, but for the footwear and outer garments you’d best see Mostyn in the village, as soon as possible. You’ll find him a few shops up from the inn. Just tell him it’s Gwyn’s request and let him guide you.”

“I don’t quite understand. Don’t Iolo’s horses and goods go to his family?”

“Iolo has no recent family and left no instructions. In such cases we would let his friends choose keepsakes and disperse or store the rest, but Gwyn has asked that we leave his house alone until after the great hunt. I suppose he envisions installing Iolo’s permanent replacement there.

“Now, for the kennels themselves. Ives will go over kennel budgets with you and do most of that. You can take what you need from the armory, but I don’t think our armor will fit you and you won’t be here long enough for that to become an issue. Ask Hadyn—you’ve met him?—what he suggests as a temporary measure for protection.”

“One more thing,” Ifor continued. “Normally we’d fee a huntsman quarterly, but Gwyn has asked me to give you this now, as a courtesy to a kinsman.” He unlocked a drawer and took out a small leather pouch which he handed to George. “I recommend you carry a bit of this around and secure the remainder.”

George took the pouch without opening it and slid it into a pocket.

“Thanks for all your help,” he said.

“I suggested to Gwyn that you could also use the services of Iolo’s man, Alun, while you were here, and Gwyn agreed. I’ll have him seek you out in the morning.”

“How are people like Ives and Alun paid?”

“My office sees to the fees of the kennel staff. Private servants are paid by their employers, but Alun’s been taken care of until after the great hunt. Iolo’s replacement may bring a man of his own, of course.”

“What would happen to Alun then?”

“I imagine we can find him another position somewhere.” Too bad for him, George thought. I wonder how long he’s held that job? Has he always been a servant?

Well, no point making waves until I understand how all this works.

It’s good to get some pocket money, but what exactly am I to Gwyn, retainer or kin? How much difference is there?