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gifts of love and life have been exchanged and accepted. By this let all men know that Llew Silver Hand and Goewyn are wed.”
    And that was that. The people acclaimed the wedding loudly and with great enthusiasm. We were instantly caught up in a whirlwind of well-wishing. The wedding was over; let the celebration commence!

3

T HE W EDDING F EAST
    S wept away on a flood tide of high exuberance, Goewyn and I were propelled through the crannog. I lost sight of Tegid, Scatha, and Cynan; I could not see Bran or Calbha. At the landing we were bundled into a boat and rowed across to the lakeside where Scatha’s field was quickly prepared for games.
    Feast days and festivals are often accompanied by contests of skill and chance. Wrestling and horse racing are by far the favorites, with mock combat and games of hurley. An earthen mound was raised facing the field, with two chairs placed upon it. One of the chairs was made from stag antler and adorned with a white oxhide—this was to be mine. And from this vantage point, Goewyn and I were to watch the proceedings and dispense prizes.
    The sport would come first, the food and drink later—giving the cooks time to see everything properly prepared, and the competitors and spectators opportunity to build an ample appetite. Better to wrestle on an empty stomach, after all, than with a bellyful of roast pork. And after a few bowls of strong wedding mead, who would be able to sit a horse, let alone race one?
    When the hastily erected mound was finished, Goewyn and I ascended to our chairs and waited for the company to assemble. Already, many had made their way across the lake from the crannog, and more were arriving. I was happy to wait. I was a happy man—perhaps for the first time in my life, truly happy.
    All I had ever known of joy and life, and now love, had been found here, in the Otherworld, in Albion. The thought touched a guilty nerve in my conscience, and I squirmed. But surely, Professor Nettleton was wrong. He was wrong, and I would not destroy the thing I loved; he was wrong, and I could stay. I would sooner give up my life than leave Albion now.
    I looked at Goewyn and smothered my guilt with the sight of her gleaming hair. She sensed me watching her and turned to me. “I love you, my soul,” she whispered, smiling. And I felt like a man who, living his entire life in a cave, that instant steps out into the dazzling light of day.
    Tegid arrived shortly, attended by his Mabinogi, led by the harp-bearer, Gwion Bach. Another carried his staff. “I have given Calbha charge of the prizes,” Tegid told us. “He is gathering them now.”
    â€œPrizes? Ah, yes, for the games.”
    â€œI knew you would not think of it,” he explained cheerfully.
    Calbha carried out his charge in style. He came leading a host of bearers, each carrying an armload of valuable objects—and some in twos lugging heavy wicker baskets between them. They piled their offerings around our chairs. Soon the mound was knee-deep in glittering, gleaming booty: new-made spears with decorated heads and shafts, fine swords inset with gems, shields with rims of silver and bronze, bone-handled knives . . . Wherever I looked there were cups and bowls—bowls of copper, bronze, silver, and gold; wooden bowls cunningly carved; cups of horn with silver rims, small cups and large cups; cups of stone even. There were fine new cloaks and piles of fluffy white fleeces. Armbands of bronze and silver and gold gleamed like links in a precious chain, and scattered among them were ornate brooches, bracelets, and rings. As if this were not enough, there were three good horses, which Calbha could not resist adding.
    I gaped at the glittering array. “Where did you get all this?”
    â€œIt is yours, lord,” he replied hastily. “But do not worry, I have chosen only the finest for such a celebration as this.”
    â€œI thank you, Calbha,” I replied, eyeing