It hardly mattered what the farmer would have told them, if indeed they did ride his way, because by mid-morning of the next day, Galrion led his weary horse into the virgin forest. He found water, gave the horse a meager ration of oats, then sat down to think. He was tempted simply to go to Rhegor and let Brangwen think what she liked about him, but he had the distinct feeling that Rhegor would be furious. For the first time in his pampered life, Galrion knew what it was to fail. Hed been a fool, dishonorable, plain and simply stupidhe cursed himself with every insult he could think of. Around him the forest stretched silent, dappled, with sunlight, indifferent to him and his short-lived human worries.
It hardly mattered what the farmer would have told them, if indeed they did ride his way, because by mid-morning of the next day, Galrion led his weary horse into the virgin forest. He found water, gave the horse a meager ration of oats, then sat down to think. He was tempted simply to go to Rhegor and let Brangwen think what she liked about him, but he had the distinct feeling that Rhegor would be furious. For the first time in his pampered life, Galrion knew what it was to fail. Hed been a fool, dishonorable, plain and simply stupidhe cursed himself with every insult he could think of. Around him the forest stretched silent, dappled, with sunlight, indifferent to him and his short-lived human worries.
Husbanding every scrap of food, scrounging what fodder he could for his horse, Galrion made his way east through the forest for two days. He stayed close to the road and tried to calculate where the Falcons party might be, because hed made up his mind to intercept it. Late one afternoon, he risked coming out onto the road and riding up to the crest of a low hill. Far away, hanging over the road, was a faint pall of dusthorses coming. Hurriedly he pulled back into the forest and waited, but the Falcons party never rode past. With Brangwen and her maidservants along, they would be making early camps to spare the womens strength. As it grew dark, Galrion led the bay through the forest and worked his way toward the camp. From the top of the next hill he saw it: not just Lord Gerraent and his retainers, but the Kings entire warband.
May every god curse them, Galrion whispered. They knew shed be the best bait to draw me.
Galrion tied his horse securely in the woods, then ran across the road and began making his cautious way to the camp. Every snap of a twig under his foot made him freeze and wait. Halfway downhill, the trees thinned somewhat, giving him a good look at the sprawling, disorganized camp. In the clearing along the stream, horses were tethered; nearby, the warband was gathered round two fires. Off to one side among the trees stood a high-peaked canvas tent, doubtless for Brangwens privacy, away from the ill-mannered riders.
The true and dangerous question, of course, was where Gerraent might be. The firelight below shone too dim for Galrion to make out anyones face. He lay flat in the underbrush and watched until after about an hour a blond man came out of the tent and strolled over to one of the fires. No man but her brother would have been allowed in that tent in the first place. As soon as Gerraent was safely occupied with his dinner, Galrion got up, drawing his dagger, then circled through the underbrush, moving downhill and heading for the tent. The warband was laughing and talking, making blessed noise to cover his approach.
Galrion slit the tent down the back with his dagger, a rip of taut cloth. He heard someone moving inside.
Galrion? Brangwen whispered.
It is.
Galrion slipped back into cover. Wearing only her long nightdress, her golden hair loose over her shoulders, Brangwen crawled out the rip and crept to join him.
I knew youd come for me, she whispered. Weve got to go right now.
Ah, ye gods! Will you come with me?
Did you ever doubt it? Id follow you anywhere. I dont care what youve done.
But you dont even have a scrap of extra clothing.
Do you think that matters to me?
Galrion felt as if hed never truly looked at her before: his poor weak child, grinning like a berserker at the thought of riding away with an exile.
Forgive me, Galrion said. Come alongIve got a horse.
Then Galrion heard the sound, the softest crack of a branch.
Run! Brangwen screamed.
Galrion swirled roundtoo late. The guards sprang out of the trees and circled him like a cornered stag. Galrion dropped to a fighting crouch, raised the dagger, and promised himself hed get one of them before he died. A man shoved his way through the pack of guards.
Thatll do you no good, lad, Adoryc said.
Galrion straightened uphe could never kill his own father. When he threw the dagger onto the ground at Adorycs feet, the King stooped and retrieved it, his smile as cold as the winter wind. Galrion heard Brangwen behind him, weeping in long sobs, and Gerraents voice murmuring as he tried to comfort her.
Nothing like a bitch to bring a dog to heel, Adoryc remarked. Bring him round to the fire. I want to look at this cub of mine.
The guards marched Galrion round the tent and over to the bigger campfire, where the King took up his stance, feet spread apart, hands on hips. When someone brought Brangwen a cloak, she wrapped it round her and stared hopelessly at Galrion. Gerraent laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and drew her close.
So, you little whelp, Adoryc said. What do you have to say for yourself?
Naught, Father. Ill only ask you for a single boon.
What makes you think you have the right to ask for any? Adoryc drew his own dagger and began to fiddle with it as he talked.
No right at all, but Im asking for my ladys sake. Send her away out of sight before you kill me.
Fair enough. Granted.
Brangwen screamed, shoved Gerraent so hard that he stumbled, and ran forward to throw herself at the Kings feet.
Please, please, Brangwen went on. For the sake of his mother, I beg you. If you must have blood, take mine.
Brangwen clutched the hem of the Kings shirt and turned her throat up to him. She was so beautiful, with her hair streaming down her shoulders, with tears running down her perfect face, that even the Kings riders sighed aloud in pity for her.
Ah, ye gods, Adoryc said. Do you love this lout as much as that?
I do. Id go with him anywhere, even to the Otherlands.
Adoryc glanced at the dagger, then sheathed it with a sigh.
Gerraent! the King bellowed.
Gerraent came forward, took Brangwen by the shoulders, and tried to lead her away, but she shook him off. Galrion was so sick he could barely stand. He was unworthy of her, or so he saw it, and this second failure shattered him.
Well, by the hells, Adoryc said mildly. If I cant slit your throat, Galrion, how am I going to solve this little matter?
You could let me and my lady go into exile. It would spare us all much trouble.
You little bastard! Adoryc stepped forward and slapped him across the face. How dare you!
Galrion staggered from the force of the blow, but he held his ground.
Do you want me to tell everyone else what this quarrel between us is all about? Do you, Father? I will.
Adoryc went as still as a hunted animal.
Or shall I just accept exile? Galrion went on. And no man need know the cause of it
You bastard. Adoryc whispered so low that Galrion could barely hear him. Or truly, not a bastard, because of all my sons, youre the one most like me. Then he raised his voice. The cause need not be known, but we hereby do pronounce our son, Galrion, as stripped of all his rank and honor, as turned out of our presence and our demesne, forever and beyond forever. We forbid him our lands, we forbid him the shelter of those sworn to us as loyal vassals, all on pain of death. He paused to laugh under his breath. And we hereby strip him of the name we gave him at his miserable Birth. We proclaim his new name as Nevyn. Do you hear me, lad? Nevynno onenobody at allthats your new name.
Done! Ill bear it proudly.
Brangwen shook herself free of Gerraents arm. She smiled as proudly as the princess she might have been as she started over to her banished man. Galrion held out his hand to her.
Done! Ill bear it proudly.
Brangwen shook herself free of Gerraents arm. She smiled as proudly as the princess she might have been as she started over to her banished man. Galrion held out his hand to her.
Hold! Gerraent forced himself between them. My liege, my King, what is this? Am I to marry my only sister to an exile?
Shes my betrothed already, Galrion snapped. Your father pledged her, not you.
Hold your tongue, Nevyn! Adoryc slapped him across the face. My lord Gerraent, you have our leave to speak.
My liege. As he knelt before the King, Gerraent was shaking. Truly, my father pledged her, and as his son, all I can do is honor the pledge. But my father betrothed her to a good life, one of comfort and honor. He loved his daughter. What will she have now?
As Adoryc considered, Galrion felt the dweomer-warning like ice, shuddering down his back. He stepped forward.
Father!
Never call me that again. Adoryc motioned to the guards. Keep our no one here quiet.
Before Galrion could dodge, two men grabbed him and twisted his arms behind him. One of them clapped a firm hand over his mouth. Brangwen stood frozen, her face so pale that Galrion was afraid she would faint.
I beg you, my liege, Gerraent went on. If I allow this marriage, what kind of a brother am I? How can I claim to be head of my clan if I have so little honor? My liege, if ever the Falcon has paid you any service, I beg youdont let this happen.
Done, then, Adoryc said. We hereby release you from your fathers pledge.
Gerro! Brangwen sobbed out. You cant! I want to go, Gerro, let me go.
Hush. Gerraent rose, turning and sweeping her into his arms. You dont understand. You dont know what kind of life youll have, wandering the roads like beggars.
I dont care. Brangwen tried to struggle free. Gerro, Gerro, how can you do this to me? Let me go.
Gerraent weakened; then he tossed his head.
I wont! I wont have you die in childbirth someday, just because your man doesnt have the price of a midwife, or starve some winter on the road. Id die myself first.