The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (8 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mab felt forlorn, she was missing Taliesin already. She dawdled lethargically down the winding path towards the hollow. Music and laughter drifted to her on a taciturn breeze and she sighed deeply.

‘Acting like a moonstruck youngling will get you nowhere
,’ Awel chided, as she met Mab on the leafy pathway.

‘You made me jump!’ exclaimed Mab.

‘Good, it will bring some colour to your cheeks.’ Awel snaked an arm through Mab’s as they made their way down the grassy slope to the hollow. ‘Make the most of this evening Mab, the heavens know how busy we’ll be come sunrise. So much to do with such little time, blast that Aeron!’ she grumbled.

‘You are right Awel, as always
.’ Mab smiled at her advisor and closest friend. ‘Announce me to the pride and then you and I shall get as drunk as Oli-Gin!’

Awel clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes
. ‘Queen indeed,’ she muttered while stomping to the entrance of the hollow. ‘Women of the Bwy Hir, hail your Queen!’

A roar of cheers welcomed
Mab as she made her entrance, her face beamed as she hugged each and every member of the Pride in turn, sharing greetings and compliments as she went. The last woman to acknowledge Mab was Olwyn, affectionately known as Oli-Gin, who was standing unsteadily by the fire pit, clumsily concentrating on connecting a wine bottle to her lips.

‘Olwyn!’ Mab gently scolded, ‘Any closer to the fire and you’ll be standing in it!’

Oli-Gin tried to focus with one eye closed, her head wobbling on her slim neck. ‘How lovely to see you Mab!’ she slurred with a foolish grin on her face. ‘I know you will be sad to see our season end so soon, but I,’ she said, poking a finger into her own chest. ‘I will be glad to sleep, oh yes I will,’ she hiccupped.

‘Looks like you could do with some sleep!’ Awel scoffed at
Oli-Gin as she passed Mab a goblet. ‘Will you toast the Pride, Mab?’

‘Of course, Awel.’
Mab stepped higher up the side of the hollow so all could see her. She waited until the women had quietened before speaking.

‘My beautiful, diligent
Bwy Hir,’ she began, ‘such a season we have created!’ Applause and cheers punctuated her speech. ‘We have kept the covenants, we once again balanced this fair land with a precision only the Pride could attain.’ They laughed at her jibe. ‘The Chosen and thus all of the Lost peoples will once again benefit from nature’s bounty and enjoy the fruits of their Harvest. Stores of crops and fattened flocks will grace their tables this Winter because
we
make it so!’ Her powerful voice resonated through the gathering, filling hearts with pride and eyes with tears.

‘Let the cold winds blow, let the harsh rain fall, let the
Winter storms do their worst for we have prevailed!’ A huge roar tore through the hollow, arms pumped the air victoriously, whistles and cheers pierced the night as the music resumed in earnest.

‘Well done, well done.’ Awel congratulated Mab as she helped her down from her podium. ‘They will attend the
Solstice with great dignity and pride after that speech.’

‘And so they should, Awel
,’ said Mab, taking a well-earned swig from her goblet. ‘We have done well, the Winter King will have his work cut out unravelling our labours.’ Mab and Awel shared a conspiratorial smile.

‘Do you know,’ said Awel grabbing a pre-offered goblet from a passing
Tylwyth Teg
,
‘there are places beyond the sea that are as barren as an old crone’s womb? Nothing grows, no rivers, nothing thrives.’

Mab shook her head in wonder. ‘Do you think there any more of us across the sea, Awel?’

‘How could there not be Mab, there
must
be more of us,’ Awel said intensely.

‘Even if the Druids cannot find them?’ Mab pressed.

‘Druids!’ Awel spat. ‘If I knew a Druid was looking for me, I too would evade them with all of my ability!’

Mab
smiled a melancholic smile. ‘Now, don’t start pouting again.’ Awel cautioned Mab with a wag of her finger. ‘Whether there are more of us or not makes no difference. Bwy Hir cannot cross the sea; the Covenant must be kept, so supposition is pointless. We have enough problems of our own without looking for more on the horizon.’

‘Again, you are right, Awel
...’ Mab brightened. ‘And now, my dear friend, without further ado we must celebrate!’ She grabbed Awel’s arm and spun her into the throng of dancers trampling the grass underfoot as they capered into the night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Anwen had slept in again. The house was silent, but the sound of tapping and sawing drifted in from the yard outside, she could hear the drone of a Land
Rover chugging up the lane. She yawned and dragged her tired body out of bed.
Is that someone coming or maybe someone returning?
She wondered whether Gwyn had been into town, she’d noticed they were running low on a couple of things, including bread.

Dai
Jones swung his vehicle into the yard and dragged the handbrake into position before squeezing out from behind the steering wheel and greeting Dafydd with a wave and a smile.

‘You’ll never believe it!’ he wheezed excitedly, ‘PC Plod has only gone and bought himself one of them Volkswagen camper thingies – a bright bloody orange one!’
He hooted with laughter.

‘Who did, James Mallard?’ Dafydd queried.

Dai erupted in a wholehearted belly laugh. ‘Yes, yes!’ he whooped, ‘James and the Giant Peach!’

All the workers burst into peals of laughter. PC James Mallard was often the butt of local jokes and
jibes, but he had brought this one on himself.

Dai
continued with his news once he was capable. ‘I seen him in town this morning, showing it off in the square he was. Oh Dafydd, he says to tell you he’s found a tramp sneaking about the village.’ Dai gave a knowing look. ‘Says the fella’s been hanging round for a week or so. James couldn’t charge him with anything but he reckons he could be the one who started your barn fire and abandoned his dog to the flames.’ Dai raised his eyebrows encouragingly. ‘Anyways, he drummed him out of town with a flea in his ear by all accounts.’

‘Well that is good news. The bugger won’t be bothering anyone else’s farm then.’ Dafydd feigned relief.

‘No he will not.’ Dai nodded his head in satisfaction as he spoke. ‘Cerys from the bakery says he’d been rummaging through her bins at the back and made an awful mess, which reminds me ...’ He rummaged under his passenger seat and produced a plump plastic bag. ‘Cerys said to give you this and she hopes Anwen will be back to work as soon as she’s well enough, but she said there’s no rush, mind.’

‘Right then,’ said Dai
, clapping his hands together, ‘let’s get the barn built … who’s making the tea before I get started?’

‘
Anwen?’ Dafydd shouted into the hallway. ‘Are you awake yet?’

‘Yes, and don’t shout!’ Anwen called from the kitchen
. ‘I take it you all want tea?’

‘Good girl,’ he called back, ‘Cerys has sent some bread and cakes up with
Dai, I’ll leave it on the doorstep ‘cause my boots are all muddy.’

Anwen loaded the tea tray and retrieved the bag from the doorway
. She unloaded the loaves and put them in the bread bin before slicing up a cake and taking it out to the men.

Bara
was busy chasing scents around the yard, running up and down, nose to the floor, growling and whining, spinning in circles. ‘Must have caught the scent of a fox,’ Anwen said, as she watched Bara’s frenzied behaviour.

All the men nodded their heads noncommittally. ‘Take her inside with you, Anwen,’ said her father between a mouthful of cake, ‘she’ll only get underfoot outside.’

Whistling for Bara to follow, Anwen went back to the house to tidy the kitchen. Clearing the worktop of crumbs, she sipped her tea and popped a piece of cake in her mouth and began to chew. Suddenly, and without warning, she unceremoniously vomited into the sink, heaving and gagging until her throat burned.

She wiped her hand across her mouth and turned on the tap to rinse the sink clear and sprayed cleaner around the bowl before anyone saw the mess she’d made. Feeling shaky and tearful she pushed her hair out of her face and leant against the
Aga for warmth.

I couldn’t be, could I?
She bit her nails and fretted over the possibility.
No, no I couldn’t be, the book says the Bwy Hir cannot father a child, nor can they carry a Human seed within them, the two bloods don’t mix, the book says so!

Anwen whimpered as she considered the worst.
If I am pregnant how do I explain it? I’m not even courting as far as anyone knows … oh my father will kill me, if the Druids don’t get to me first.

Her mind was distracted by the sound of another vehicle coming up the lane. She brushed the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath before peering through the kitchen window to see who
had come.

A burgundy taxi pulled up and the driver jumped out and opened the rear door. Dafydd, Gwyn and
Dai all turned to watch as the passenger got out. ‘Oh no ...’ moaned Dafydd, feeling his heart sink, ‘it’s Nerys.’

Nerys smoothed her dress over her ample figure as she stepped away from the taxi clutching a small suitcase
. The driver ran to the rear of the car and began unloading boxes and cases.

‘Oh no
…’ Dafydd moaned again, ‘she’s got suitcases.’

Nerys ran a gloved hand over her flawlessly set silvery hair, her bosom and colossal hips swayed in tandem as she picked her way through the yard making sure she didn’t dirty her stout, sensible shoes. ‘Ah Dafydd, there you are, come and give your
aunt a kiss.’ She leaned forward and allowed Dafydd to peck her pudgy cheek.

‘Uh, what brings you here, Nerys?’ Dafydd asked, dreading the answer.

‘Didn’t you get my letter?’ she said, her eyebrows knitting together.

‘No. I’ve had nothing from you.’ Dafydd scratched his head.

‘Well the letter must have been lost in the post! Well never mind, I’m here now so I can tell you myself. I’ve come to stay with you for a while, until my cottage renovations are finished. All that banging and drilling and dust is driving me insane, so I’ve decided to stay here until it’s finished. You don’t mind do you Dafydd?’ Nerys’ voice gave the hint of a challenge.

‘Uh, no of course not, Nerys. A little notice would have been nice, but no bother, you know you
’re always welcome here, stay as long as you like.’

‘Good. I’ll take my sister’s room for the time being, don’t let me
disturb you, I can see you’re busy. New barn is it? About time you rebuilt, the old barn was a wreck. I’ll go on inside. Is Anwen home? She can help me unpack. Oh Gwyn, there you are, you can bring my things up to my room. Well, don’t let me keep you. Pretend I’m not even here.’

Dafydd hadn’t been able to get a word in
edgeways. He watched her roll into the house and Gwyn dragged his heels to retrieve her belongings deposited at the gate.

Dai
leaned over to Dafydd and whispered, ‘That’s not
the
Nerys is it? Your mother’s sister, Nerys Jones?’

‘The very same
,’ Dafydd sighed.

‘Oh, you poor, poor man. You have my condolences.’
Dai patted Dafydd’s shoulder in sympathy.

Nerys Jones usually lived in the seaside town of
Criccieth, comfortably far enough away for Dafydd not to feel obliged to call in on a regular basis, but near enough to make the occasional trips on significant birthdays or just before Christmas if the weather was mild enough.

She was a formidable woman, a staunch Christian and ruled the local Mother’s
Union with a rod of iron. She was an independent, bolshy, no-nonsense spinster, who did as she pleased, when she pleased and Dafydd was dismayed that she’d chosen to land herself on them now. He hadn’t the first idea how Anwen would react to her great aunt, but he had the inkling there would be fireworks.

Gwyn carted his great
aunt’s effects up to his grandparent’s bedroom. No-one ever slept in there, the room had never been used since the death of his grandparents before Gwyn was born, one dying within six weeks of the other, his grandmother passed first, his grandfather followed shortly after. His father said granddad
had died from a broken heart, but if Nerys were anything like his grandmother, Gwyn seriously doubted it.

‘Just put everything over there.’ Nerys pointed to
the corner of the room. Gwyn obliged, setting the boxes carefully down. He winced as he stood, holding his chest.

‘Something wrong Gwyn?’ she
inquired looking over the rim of her glasses.

‘No, just a bit stiff from working on the barn.’

‘Oh, I see … well thank you very much for all your help, you can go now.’ Nerys shooed him out of the room.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Anwen asked bluntly from the hallway, her head tilted to one side.

‘Dear me. You must be Anwen. I am your Great Aunt Nerys, you may address me as Aunt Nerys and I shall be staying here for a while.’

‘First I’ve heard of it.’ Anwen asked suspiciously, ‘Who said you could have this room?’

‘My, how you’ve grown, Anwen.’ Nerys words were honey coated. ‘I remember when you were just a little girl, a bit awkward and certainly not the prettiest child, but you were at least polite.’

Anwen’s
eyes couldn’t have got any wider.
How dare she
?  ‘We’ll see about this!’ She threw herself past Gwyn and ran off to find her father. Gwyn was nonplussed, standing motionless at the top of the stairs. ‘Would you like to flounce down the stairs like a spoilt child too?’ Nerys asked civilly. ‘Or have you learned better?’

Gwyn stammered noncommittal gibberish before
bolting down the stairs to catch up with his sister. With a smug grin, Nerys casually swung her door closed, humming to herself as she unpacked.

‘Dad!’ yelled Anwen as she flounced out of the house followed closely by Gwyn with Bara bringing up the rear.

‘Now, Anwen,’ Dafydd braced himself, ‘there is nothing I can do. Nerys is family and she’s staying until, well until she goes, there’s no use mewling about it, what’s done is done and she’s staying,’ he said in a rush.

‘But,
Dad!’ Anwen whined.

‘But,
nothing.’ Dafydd pulled himself up to his full height and folded his arms.

‘Fine
,’ Anwen hissed, ‘she can stay, but she better stay out of my way!’ Turning on her heels she stormed back into the house slamming the door behind her.

‘Again, you have my condolences,’ said
Dai solemnly. ‘I expect I’ll be seeing you more often in the pub?’

‘Shhhh!’ hissed Dafydd
. ‘That Nerys has the ears of a bat, don’t be mentioning the pub.’

‘Oh,’
Dai said, ‘so that’s why she wears her hair all puffed up like that.’ They all burst out laughing, shushing each other and stifling giggles.

‘So, in one door
and out the other,’ Nerys said to herself, as she watched Anwen through the bedroom window dashing through the fields away from the house.
Little minx
, she thought,
just like her mother
.

The thought of Anwen’s mother brought with it a wave of grief, how Nerys missed E
mily so. The two of them had become steadfast friends from the first time they met, despite the age gap, an unlikely duo who had spent many an evening gossiping and giggling over a bottle of wine at the farm.

Nerys had been
a frequent visitor to Ty Mawr back when her sister still ruled the roost and Dafydd and Emily had newly married, Emily joining the family and moving in to start her new life on the farm. The old house used to be full of laughter, neighbours bustling in and out, farmhands rushing to and fro; a hive of activity.

Those days are gone
, Nerys chided herself,
the dead don’t come back
. First to pass was her sister, so suddenly that no-one saw it coming, a sudden heart attack had killed her outright and that was that, she was gone. Nerys had heard the terrible news for a farmhand sent to fetch her and had stayed at Ty Mawr until after the funeral, watching her brother-in-law as he faded, refusing to eat or even leave the house. She and Emily had done everything they could to console the grief stricken man and encourage him to eat or at least sleep, but no-one can keep a body alive whose spirit is dead and longing for the next life, so Nerys had once again been summoned to Ty Mawr Farm for yet another funeral.

The only good news that year was the announcement of Dafydd’s and Emily’s first child. Emily was pregnant and had waited until after
the second funeral to share her revelation. Dafydd was thrilled, as was Nerys. Ty Mawr had become hollow and vacant with only the two of them living there and the pitter-patter of tiny feet would once again bring the old house to life.

Emily went into labour shortly after the New Year. The midwife was called, as was Nerys, and after much toil a pink and healthy baby boy was brought into the world
, wailing the moment he arrived.

Dafydd was thrilled, he had a healthy son and his wife had come through the birth unscathed. The old farm was brought to life once more and Nerys was again a frequent visitor and witnessed Gwyn’s first steps, his first bout of measles and his first ride on a tractor nestled in the strong arms of his father as they laughed and whooped bounc
ing along the fields together.

When Gwyn was nearly five, the announcement of the second child was celebrated at the farm. Gwyn couldn’t have been less bothered and was far more interested in the arrival of the spring lambs. The whole farm rallied during this busy time, hiring in extra farmhands to replace the ones that had been let go when Dafydd’s father had died
. Even Nerys joined in helping wherever she was needed and had stayed at the farm well into the Summer.