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went to Prydyn and stayed there for a little while with his nephew, King Rhoram. And then he was off. Wouldn’t say where he was going, just that he wanted to be left alone. Of course, my father’s bitterness isn’t really surprising. After all, he had just had final proof that his wife did not love him. A pity that she died of grief over the murder of your father. And such a murder! Dead at the hands of his own—”
    “Madoc,” Uthyr cut in with a tone of steel. With one look at Gwydion’s white, set face, Uthyr took Gwydion’s arm and led him away from Madoc, who was smiling again, this time with a hint of satisfaction.
    “Sit down,” said Uthyr, steering Gwydion to the chair next to his at the King’s table. Uthyr nodded to Griffi who raised up both hands and said, in a carrying tone, “Be seated, all.” The crowd took their places and the room began to quiet down. Griffi lifted his hands again and intoned.
    The peace of lights,
    The peace of joys,
    The peace of souls,
    Be with you.
    “Awen. So let it be,” the crowd replied in unison.
    “Just a few announcements,” Griffi began. “For those of you who have been inside a wine jug for the last week or so and don’t know what day it is—”
    “He means you, Cai,” someone yelled. Amid the catcalls and laughter, Griffi grinned, and again raised his hands for (relative) silence.
    “Tomorrow is Calan Llachar Eve. The hunt for the stag begins at noon. Since Ygraine’s not feeling up to leading it this year—”
    “Can’t blame her for that,” a warrior called out.
    Griffi continued, “She has appointed the Bard, Susanna ur Erim, to lead this year.”
    “Go get him, Susanna!” someone called as she rose and bowed slightly to the crowd. “How about we call the stag ‘Griffi’? Then she’ll be sure to lead us to it.” Susanna, blushing bright red, abruptly sat down.
    Griffi, his face an interesting shade of mauve, cleared his throat and valiantly continued. “On Calan Llachar itself, there will be a full eclipse of the sun beginning at midday. We’ll be running the race to choose the King of the Wood in the morning, so it shouldn’t interfere with that. We should be dancing around the tree by the time the sky begins to darken.”
    As he sat down, the servers began to bring in heavy platters to each table. Gwydion speared a few slices of venison with his belt knife and laid them on his plate, passing the platter to Uthyr on his left. Preoccupied with his thoughts, he did not notice his other companions, but ate in silence.
    Finally satiated, he took a deep breath and glanced up. Susanna was leaning forward slightly to talk to Griffi who sat opposite her. Uthyr had turned to say something to Madoc. He glanced across the table. Arday ur Medyr, Uthyr’s steward, sat directly across from him. At his glance, she smiled slowly. Her black hair had a blue sheen in the firelight. A green ribbon held her hair back from her face. Her arched black brows cut startlingly into her milky white skin. Her lips were full and her pointed chin emphasized the heart-like shape of her face. She was dressed in a forest green gown, the bodice tightly laced, clearly outlining her firm breasts.
    “Arday,” said Gwydion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you before.”
    She laughed lightly. “That was obvious! I was making sure that this magnificent feast got to the tables. How goes it, Gwydion?” Her dark eyes, full of promise, held his.
    Gwydion smiled quite ready to take the lady up on the offer in her eyes.
    Amatheon, who was sitting on Arday’s right, chose that moment to speak. He gestured to the lean, brown-haired man sitting next to him. “Gwydion, you remember Cai, don’t you?”
    “Of course,” Gwydion said pleasantly, hiding his annoyance at being interrupted. “How goes it, Cai?”
    Cai’s dark brown eyes brightened. “It goes well, Gwydion. And you? Any good dreams lately?”
    Gwydion’s smile froze. “No,” he said harshly.
    Taken aback, Cai