3. Cold Rain #3
"So too, their ways and manners. Of all of Kaeirrishog, only four abided by the ancient laws. Teithi Hen, the old man Of White Rock, the young woman of Green Leaves, and Crubaiged the Fleet. They returned to the land and waters their due, and kept open the doors to the traveler and seeker.
"So it was that when Gwydion walked the ways of the silvery stream steeds, under the fleecy flocks of Ciranis, doors closed, roads led to walls and barred gates.
Only the young woman of Green Leaves offered milk and curd from her mistress' herd.
Only the Old Man of White Rock made a place for the beast of Gwydion to graze.
Crubaiged the Fleet made way for the traveler, leaving the best of the path for his feet, while Teithi Hen gave the most valuable of gifts, ears as open as the ears of Bran, attention as sharp as the sword of Nuada, and a hearth as warm as the forge of Goboddein. "
Bitter winds sang, then hissed as Tuathal glided his nails up the strings of the harp. Several men shivered. Two glanced to the seat of pride, and Pyder upon it. He scowled as he beckoned for more drink. The harp's song grew darker still, surging like waves, like Manawn's own war horses.
"And so it was that Gwydion spoke of his traveling, of the word, from over the hills and even sea, and Taithi Hen listened.
Outside the light of the fire, the wind sang, weaving a mournful way between summer's green loom bars.
The scent of smoke faded, the deep gray of the sea filled the shelter as Gwydion sang his warning.
At once, Crubaiged the Fleet screamed a cry of challenge.
His rider rushed out into the darkness and beheld the stallion of MacLyr rearing and snorting foam.
Taithi Hen cut the rope of Crubaiuged's tether and sprang onto his back, not daring to look for his guest.
"East they raced. Crubaiged had raced against many steeds, but never had he flown so fast as that day.
Behind them, the devourer of stones feasted on crops and harvests, on milk and dairy maids together.
The Old Man of White Rock clung to a raft of thatch that carried him to safety, while the Young Woman of Green Leaf threw herself over an empty butter churn and floated east as the wind and waves commanded. "
The terrible tearing roar of notes stilled. Soft "plinks" dropped as dew from young leaves on a misty morning. Even the great hearth's flames dared not snap or crackle.
"And so perished the lands of Kaeirrishog, Ynis Taithi Hen.
Crubaiged, weary, stopped at the Hill of the Great Hiding.
Taithi Hen flowed to the ground, faint from the loss of all.
To the day of his death, Crubaiged wanted for nothing, so great was his rider's debt.
And so Kaeirrishog, Seithennin, and Cair Ynnes, the three kingdoms swallowed by the sea. "
"Bagh, a tale for women and captives, not a tale for warriors," Pyder sneered, well in his drink. "Give us a tale for men, storyteller."
His men gasped.
Pyder waved his cup at them. "Well, storyteller?"
"The tale of the Battle of Ballat, as was told to me." The harp snarled a challenge, then gentled as he recounted the tale of King Dagi and his warriors against the men of Deas as the first wave of the mist flowed onto the slaughter ground. Pyder cheered, banged the table with his cup.
As he finished the tale, Tuathal felt himself growing light.
He stood and drew on his cloak. Harp in arms, he bowed.
Words pushed from him, and he chanted, "Pyder son of Bricu I name you, as generous as Matholwch was to his guests, as brave as Cwlch the Red, and as wealthy as Lasar.
May this house prosper until it rivals the riches of Caiwynnes.
" He felt himself moving and walked from the hall, harp in arms. Dead silence save for Pyder's call of joy and boasting followed.
The awan left him as he reached the place of horses.
"Honored Allav, master bard, wait, please," a man pleaded as steps hurried from behind. "Do not leave without a road cup and portion of honor."
He stopped and turned. Two servants and a pair of arms men approached.
They carried drink, bread, and meat. Even in the starlight, he saw fear in their eyes.
Pride warred with justice. They had not denied him his proper due.
He jerked his head down in a curt gesture.
"I take hospitality from those who give freely. "
"Freely given, Honored Allav, of our share," the female bond servant averred. The others made sounds of agreement. He ate and drank swiftly under the open sky. A second arms man brought his bag, and bread for the way.
"My thanks for the gifts. May you prosper and be praised for your honor, men and women of the household of Prader," the greedy rat.
They flinched back from the insult to their chief's name.
Tuathal untuned the clarsach, slid it into the case, and picked up pack and case.
He strode out of the gate. It closed behind him.
The moon gave enough light for him to walk the road. The farther from that cursed hall, then better. He was no Gwydion, but when awan moved so, a wise man heeded the power. Truly, the court of Pyder had fallen far from its grace in his sire's day.