Upheaval and Change - Tales 20

Allyn was brought in before the King. Only a few were in the room. Allyn stood proudly before the King though it was obvious that such a pose was difficult for him. His face showed his pride demanded no less. He was dressed in his finest garb but his sheath was empty.

Hawk looked at the man. He was still not sure what to do with him. But during a sleepless night, a small idea had formed in his mind.

"Sir Allyn, you are guilty of abducting my lady mother, and killing some members of her guard. This is a very serious offense. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"It was an act of war, milord. No different then the many men we both have slaughtered on the battlefield. If it be a crime with which to be judged then I am guilty." Allyn said, looking up into the man's eyes. His eyes flickered to Deirdre who had not seen fit to visit with him since they had arrived. Had his sacrifice been for nothing? Was he the fool that had been led to slaughter like a lamb? His eyes flashed with anger momentarily before he forced it back.

The captain shrunk under his gaze, her lips thinning. She had tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, but somehow, Allyn had found her anyway. Her heart was thrumming so loudly in her ears, it was a wonder she was still standing. She didn't know what to hope for, but she could feel a lump forming in her throat nonetheless.

The King began. "Please hear my judgment. What you did was not an act or war, kidnapping women and children is not considered as an act of war here. It's a crime, and a crime punishable by death." He paused. "However, you rescued my sister, and you took good care of her. There for you will not be put to death, nor put in prison. I'm going to give you a choice. You can leave here tomorrow, get one week to get off my land, and never return. Or you can stay here, stripped of rank and title and be a guard to my little sister until such a time you have redeemed yourself. The choice is yours."

Allyn stood for a long moment, a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. This stripling King could not relieve him of his rank and title in his own shire. He could simply refuse to acknowledge it here in Abertawe. However, if he were to become a guard of the lower orders and protect little Beth, the act itself would endanger her. He looked slowly at Deirdre. She had not visited him since their arrival. It was clear she did not return his affection. He had risked his life and all for naught. He bowed low before the King of Abertawe. "To stay would risk little Beth, for the lower orders of guards have not forgiven me the act even if you should stay judgement. There would be challenges. Therefore, I will withdraw and never return to Abertawe." His eyes held the pain of his choice as they met Deirdre's. He then looked deliberately away from her. He nodded to Sir Shannon, the knight he had befriended stood in the corner of the room.

Shannon nodded in response. He admired this enigma of a man, he wished that Allyn would profess his adoration for the Dame Deirdre and take her away from all that was happening here. 'Ahh what folly our hearts create.' He thought sadly.

Though her heart stung at the razor-sharp looks Allyn so casually tossed at her, her pride jumped forth. "I can take care of my men, your majesty. They WILL obey my orders, whether they agree or not."

Allyn smiled. "As they did when I left the village? I know you ordered your guardsman to leave off and yet he nearly lost his life and I mine." He meant no disrespect. His thoughts roamed to the young Ceiran who was only waiting for him to mend.

Deirdre recoiled as if slapped. Though it killed her to say it, her voice was low when she decreed, "He is no longer one of my guardsmen."

"He is one of many, lass. They all feel the same way. Beth is safer away from me. Other matters, I had hoped to keep me here, have not manifested themselves, an honorable man knows when to withdraw." He turned to the King. "Your mercy is great, your highness, I will honor your decree." He bowed low, preparing to withdraw.

Biting her lip, she denied the disappointment that struck in her breast. Things would be better this way. Much better for him. She refused to speak, refused to let her thoughts appear on her brow.

Allyn backed away from the King and then turned on his heel. He returned to the rooms he had occupied and gathered his possessions together. Within an hour, he was within the stables, saddling his mount to head home.

Bronwen had stabled her horse and fled to her room. The silence from within her room was deafening. Her maid was just as nervous. She had helped her mistress attempt to deceive Sanglet's man. The door finally opened and Bronwen turned apprehensively to see her father in the door. She wanted to tell him a hundred things and yet.. to tell him nothing.

Iorwerth looked at his daughter, she had disappointed him. And he had thought she was wiser. Flirting was one thing, but giving yourself to a man before marriage was a sin.

"You have let me down, daughter. This is going to hurt your mother dearly, have you ever thought of that when you lay with that man?"

"No." She admitted quietly. She did not look up at him. She had not meant to disappoint her father. If Sanglet had not interferred, he would have never known. She was ashamed that he knew and scared for Seth.

"What dissapoints me most, is that you promised. I gave you every freedom in the world, and this is how you repay me. You have shamed me, and you have shamed your brother, he does not need this scandal right now." He looked at her not certain what to do with the girl.

"Is that all that matters? Whether or not the family can handle the scandal?" Her voice held both hurt and fear. Her eyes met his briefly and dropped immediately. "What are you going to do to Seth?" She asked fearfully.

"Is that all that matters to you? Does this family mean nothing to you." He ignored her question, getting very angry now. "Does your mother's pain, your brother's good name mean nothing to you! You know how hard Hawk is working, and you want to ruin it all for him? You really are a spoiled little brat." He roared.

Bronwen burst into tears. She had been trying to protect Seth from Sanglet and now it was all horrid. "I don't care about how hard Hawk is working. When was he ever there for us? And I didn't go meet Seth to ruin his good name or hurt mother!" Her words were angry and hurt, accentuated by genuine tears of distress. "I went to say good-bye!"

"Is that how you say goodbye to men. So you are no better than a common whore." Iorwerth had completely lost his composure now.

Bronwen flinched backwards at the accusation. "It was the only time." Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

"I wish I could believe you. Right now I do not know you anymore." Iorwerth said, his voice cold. But inside he felt like he was breaking apart in a thousand pieces. "Get out of my sight, I will decide what to do with you later."

Bronwen looked up at him in confusion. She was in her own room? She saw as the realization hit him. 'Papa?" Her voice held the tone she had used as a little girl when she was scared.

He looked at her, the pain in his eyes was obvious. It was like his heart was breaking. "You will not bewitch me anymore." With that he left her in her room.

Once in his own room Iorwerth broke down and cried, he cried like he had not cried in years.

There was much to be done in order to help Seth with his appeal to the King. Turning the corner Mae found guards stationed at Bronwen's door. The men abruptly backed away once they recognized their superior. It took them a moment, for she was in a dress. With a slight nod she knocked and awaited admittance.

Bronwen was still crying from her confrontation with her father. It had not been pleasant. She nodded for the maid to open the door. She looked up with surprise to see Dame Mae. She had not really spoken to the woman and did not know why she was here.

Mae stood erect and stated her business. "Good afternoon Princess. I am here on the behalf of the squire Seth McCullen. I mean you no harm, but we need to discuss some of the events which have occured recently."

Bronwen stood immediately. "He is alright?" Her eyes anxiously searched Mae's face.

Wincing she held a hand against her temple. "Aye he is well. Tell me lass what did you promise the Earl?"

Bronwen's face paled. "That is between me and the Earl." She whispered.

Mae frowned, "Then perhaps you truly love the Earl and not Seth? If this is so I shall bother you no more." She made an effort to rise.

"I did NOT say that." Bronwen was not doing well. Her father had called her a whore. Her love was most likely in danger and the Earl was probably somewhere with a statisfied smile.

Mae leaned forward and whispered, "Whatever your business with the Earl, I need to know. Seth is safe, he is under my guard and care. We are to make an appeal to your brother later this afternoon, but all the facts must be in order. If this is to work then he needs your help." Mae looked upon her with concern.

Bronwen took a long moment with her decision. "The Earl told me if I accepted his troth, then he would not have Seth killed." She finally admitted slowly.

Mae covered her mouth. "I knew the lad spoke the truth. Tell me Princess can you explain this to your brother in court? If you wish to be with this young man then you must."

Bronwen shook her head vehmently no. "The Earl said a standing order was issued. If anything happened to him, Seth would be killed. My brother will kill the Earl for such an attempt to force my hand? Then I will lose Seth too?"

"If the King agrees then it must be done. What else can we possibly do? Knight the lad?" The last sentence was spoken in flabergasted sarcasm. Mae wanted to help but each route seemed a dead end.

"Do you think I acted blindly? I have thought of all these things. I come back to Seth being outcast or killed?" Bronwen turned to face Mae. "I am not some loose skirt who flirts with every lordling that casts an eye. I am NOT a whore." Her words were defensive and full of pain. They were not cast solely at the woman before her. Bronwen sank to her knees and burst into tears. Her maid rushed to her side.

Mae kneeled before the lass. She had trouble expressing emotion, but that did not mean the she was emotionless. "You are not a whore my lady. I want to help you. I look not on others as poor or noble. I am a servant of my King and people, I swore to to be blind in that light. I fight for what I believe and I truly believe in you." Her tone lowered as she helped the maid bring the princess to her feet. "This is not going to end in tragedy."

"It already has." Sobbed Bronwen. "I have disgraced my family."

"Nay it is the Earl who has disgraced your family. Running around like some child. Things will turn out right in the end, god willing." A slight smile etched across her lips. "Now let us sit and talk like friends, for that is what I wish to be, a friend."

"I am not a very good friend." Bronwen said sadly. "But I would like that."

"I would too." Mae was being genuine. "But this conflict must be settled. All that I ask is that you show your support by attending to hear Seth's challenge."

Bronwen nodded. "I will if my father will let me. I am confined to my room?"

"Then I shall request your attendance." Mae paused, she could always order the guards to escort her to the hall when it was time. But she would be going against the King's wishes, something she did not want. "I will look into that problem." She answered simply.

"If you can arrange it, then I will be there. But I dare not defy my father at the moment." Bronwen answered quietly.

"Agreed." Mae rose and headed towards the doorway. "We will make things right, I swear."

As they made their way back to the city gates, Amlyn watched Nia lead his horse. Her shoulders were slumped and her stride not as long as he remembered. And he had not failed to notice before that she had been crying. He felt guilty, because he knew that despite all her attempts to reach out to him, he had just brushed them aside. But he stayed silent, unsure of what to do to try and make it up to her.

Nia felt sick. Her nerves ate away at her from the pit of her stomach, making her queasy. She still had his blood on her hands, but she no longer noticed the stains. The Captain would be so angry with her now, like the anger Deirdre fostered for Amlyn. She wanted to smash something. Or cry again. Perhaps both at the same time.

Upon reaching the gates, a familiar figure strode out to meet them. Stopping abruptly several feet away, Deirdre gazed at Amlyn critically. "So, I see this is how you keep your word to the king, is it?" she greeted them cooly. "You tell him you will allow an escort, yet run off and implicate this lass in your ordeals?" Fire flashed in her emerald eyes, but her tone was as cold as ice.

Nia took the reins of the horse and moved to stand around the other side of the horse, stroking it's neck roughly as a distraction. She could not handle looking at Deirdre at this point, else she became even more ill.

Amlyn looked at the captain. He had always known there would be a reckoning, but he had not expected it to be so soon. He wanted to tell her many things, about shame and fear and anger, of obligations that once considered with cold rationlism, seemed impossible to meet. Instead, he drew a blank, again lacking the ability to form the words he wanted to say from his mouth. Anything spoken would only untap her anger regardless. Best get it over with.

"I am empty," he said finally. "But full."

Again with his ridiculously cryptic remarks. It was as if he were deliberately taunting her. Deirdre bit her lip to keep from replying with fury, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. She pointed towards the gate, her fist clenched so tightly it shook. "You need a healer, _sir_," she said tightly.

Amlyn heard the tone and saw the anger that she barely contained. As if on impulse, he then weakly threw his good leg over his horse, sliding out of the saddle to the stunned amazement of Nia. Landing badly but managing to avoid falling over, he clutched at the horse's bridle for support.

"What I need," he said, words slurred slightly with fatigue, "Is your scorn and your anger. Thou seemest unwilling for some reason to dispense of it, yet even now it causes thee injury." He pointed at her lip as he spoke. "Am I not worthy enough of even your harsh words?" Amlyn then tapped himself on his chest slowly with a bloodied finger. "Feed my emptiness with anger of your own should you so choose, my lady. I am empty of rage, but full of nothing."

"What is wrong with you?" Deirdre blurted incredulously. "You speak in riddles and expect everyone to understand the gibberish you spout. You slink out of the castle like a thief in the darkness yet return upon your steed looking like a hero, complete with sunset." She stared at the pair. "I have no intention of wasting my time with you any longer. You have disgraced me with my king; I will send a guard to watch you and help you to the healer." She turned to go.

Frustrated, Amlyn closed his eyes and tried to recall what he had just said. He couldn't find any way of communicating how he felt, at least in a way she would understand. While the energy that drove him was gone, there was a gaping hole left in its place, that just... filled him, in a way he couldn't describe. Why he decided to try and explain it, to the Captain of all people, suddenly became a perplexing side issue for him.

But it was evidently clear that his biggest mistake was to assume that she could just yell at him and everything would be fine, she would just get over it. Not that easy. It had been a long time since he had had to answer to others.

He opened his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said to her back. "You bear no disgrace, for the dishonour is mine."

Deirdre frowned, stopping in mid-stride. "I promised the king I would be there with you. I would protect you. That was my responsibility. I was distracted by your simple ruse. That is my disgrace."

Amlyn sighed and casted a glance sideways at Nia. She could see the look of exasperation clearly plastered on his face. Shrinking away, she hid back behind the horse, unwilling to become involved.

He pushed himself away from the horse, and took several steps towards Deirdre. His left leg was stiff and would not bend, so he rocked forward on it like a person would pivot on a staff. "Captain," he began. "I have met the King this morning. As long as I am still alive, he is the sort of man who would not care what has happened in the meanwhile."

Deirdre groaned to herself, exasperated and driven to the brink of madness by this man. "I am glad you know my king so much better than I do. You can send him my regrets and deepest apologies, then." She bowed low, mockingly, then stalked off, unable to tolerate his presence a moment longer.

Amlyn stood and watched her go, too stunned and too tired to muster up a response. After she had disappeared from view, he turned back to his horse, and smacked his head gently against the saddle several times.

"My lord! What are ye..."

Amlyn raised a finger to silence her. Then, after a few muttered curses, Sir Amlyn and his squire made their way slowly through the gates, and back to the castle.

Amlyn slept the stillness of the dead. His body, forced to go on beyond its limits for so long, claimed his waking state and beat it into submission. Oblivious to the ministrations of the healer in the castle, he could have been placed next to a collapsing tower, and still not stirred from his deep slumber. The world moved on without him once again.

Amlyn dreamt the peace of the dead. Rest without nightmares was always a rarity, but for the two days he lay in bed, none came. Except... a vision. The splendour of which, he would never be able to describe in mere words.

Lady Eleri stood tall and noble, an angel dressed in deep blue. Her hand rested on the sill of the window to his cell, which no longer bore the the pair of dark iron bars that he remembered. The cuts and tears of the dress were gone, and in their place the fabric seemed to glow, like the shimmer of the northern lights. Her smile of gentle kindness was as bright as the glow of morning sunlight, streaming through the window and onto his face. So... vivid.

Yet nothing moved. Lady Eleri was a static figure, still as a statue. For all his will, he could not even speak to call her name, such was the nature of his dream. But after what seemed ages, the stalemate was broken by the flutter of wings. A goshawk landed on top of her hand, and tucked it's wings away after a brief shake. Its dark eyes of obsidian examined him critically.

Silhoutted by the sunlight, Amlyn noticed its shape start to change. The touch of golden beams seemed to melt and twist the bird, extending it's length and shaping new lines from old. After a few moments, he recognised the new form as a jerfalcon. His arm, his injured arm now whole, extended itself, and the bird of prey launched itself into the room, spreading its wings and thrusting away from the sill with power and grace.

The bird's passage across the room took forever, and every moment was etched into his mind. It was the first thing he thought of when he woke up, for it still lingered on, an echo that reached into infinity.

***

"Excuse me! Little one, excuse me!"

Nia jerked back, away from the alcove where the voice had come from. She took a moment to peer into the dark. "What do you want, old man?"

"Old man? Heh heh heh, such manners! A delightful doggie - all snarl but ready to flee and fetch! Fetch and flee!" He cackled gleefully. "You may call me... Scordid," he said. He grinned politely and reached up to whisk his faded green cap from his head. A shock of white hair billowed out from underneath, ringing his bald head like the crown of some geriatric king.

Nia didn't like him one bit. She couldn't quite see what was under his dark and dusty cloak, so she stayed well out of arms reach. Amlyn's ruby burned a hole in her pocket. "What do you want?" she snapped. She was in no mood for crazy beggars.

"Ahhhhh, you are a suspicious little Nia."

She did a double take. "How the hells do you know my name?"

"I came with the warrior-priests, aye. They mention you, they did. Poor, poor lass," he said shaking his head from side to side. "Squire to darkness, unknowing servant of eeeeeevil." Scordid twitched his fingers at her and pulled a stupid face.

Nia rolled her eyes and made to walk away.

"Wait! You have a ruu-bee? Amlyn's ruu-bee?" Hands clapsed together, he could have easily been mistaken for one of the clergy.

Nia stopped, suddenly concerned and looked about for signs of an ambush. As if somehow sensing her fear, Scordid waved his palms in front of her. "No! No! No! No hurt, no steal! Want to buy! Buy, yes, yes!"

"As if you would have enough money for it," she muttered. Her eyes darted about again, but she could see no-one stalking her.

The old man squatted down onto the step. "I have money little one! Here, look..." He produced a bulging pouch from somewhere within his cloak and deposited it between his protruding feet. After casting a quick furtive glance about, he pulled the drawsting and a pile of coin spilled out. He cupped his hands about it protectively and looked up at Nia with a triumphant smile on his face.

Nia did a quick count from what she could see. A lot of money...

"All of it! All of it for Amlyn's ruu-bee!" He played with the coins gently while looking at Nia with his tongue poking out of one corner of his grinning mouth.

Her jaw closed with a *click*. A deal too good to be true. All of this was just so bizarre, it felt horribly wrong.

"Oh! And in-for-may-shun!" That same eerie grin again.

"What sort of information?" Nia couldn't help but ask.

"About Amlyn! Where he be, how he do, what he up to," he shrugged. "Stuff!"

Nia shook her head. "No deal. I have no idea of your intentions."

He waved his palms again briefly, before remembering the small fortune at his feet. His hands zipped back down to cover it. "No! No- no hurt Amlyn, no trouble!"

She glared at him. "That makes no difference, for I don't trust you anyway." She turned once again, ready to listen to her intuition to walk away.

"Eeee-lad."

She stopped. And turned back to look at him, wide-eyed. He matched her stare with one of his own. "Eee-lad," he said again.

Speechless, she tried to think. How did this little... maniac, know about Elad? (ooc: See Nia's bio when it gets to the website)

"Find him, we can," Scordid said solemly. "Take money," he said, scooping it back into the pouch. "Give me ruu-bee and in-for-may-shun. He get ruby back anyways later." He put his finger up to his mouth. "Shhhhhhh. Stay quiet about this, all this. We get you E-lad. Promise," he said, putting his hand over his chest and raising the other in the air, bag of money dangling between his fingers. Giving it a little shake, he gave Nia a satisfied smile.

Minutes later the same bag and it's contents were sitting comfortably in Nia's pocket, as she stumbled out of the marketplace in a daze.

When the Arch-Druid entered the room, Amlyn tried to look somewhat more dignified than he felt. Having been confined to his bed by the healer, he had quickly become frustrated by the boredom of just lying around. In fact, he was almost certain that the Captain of the Guard had issued strict instructions to the leech to keep him there. They denied it of course, but the suspicion still lingered. He clasped the stump of his arm within his right hand and did his best to put on a welcoming smile.

"Greetings Arch-Druid. It has been only a handful of days since we last departed ways."

Eruic saw the weak upturning of the corner of Amlyn's mouth and smiled back gently. "I am glad to see you are still with us, Sir Amlyn." He paused before continuing, "It seems you do indeed carry favor with the gods... Everything settled with the White Shield? Your honor restored?" Eruic walked with a slow grace to stand next to Amlyn's bed, looking the Knight in the eyes, searching to see if he was hurt more than he let on.

Amlyn looked away from the boys gaze and smoothed the blankets on top of his legs hesitantly. "It... it was never really a question of honor to begin with," he said. "But the issue is resolved for the moment. I think," he added, "that the gods were looking the other way."

"Indeed," Eruic replied softly. He turned, walked to the window and stared far into the distance. "Perhaps the gods felt that you needed to face your past..." he paused again, "And draw strength from it."

Amlyn frowned, and made his hand stop. He wondered if the gods knew that drawing on his strength only created bloodshed. "Perhaps. Who can say what the gods truly want? I prefer to trust in fate." He raised his head and looked at the back of the druid, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Is it true that you are an old man in the body of a child?"

Eruic turned, an amused look on his face, "In a sense... what prompts you to ask?"

"I have heard many rumors passed about as general topics of conversation. While I tend not to place too much faith in such stories, I have seen the way much older druids defer to thee. Not to mention that thou bears the title of leader."

Eruic smiled again, "Indeed..." He paused, "See it thus... I am not as much an old man in a young body, as I am a young man with the memory of his previous lives. I am the previous Arch-Druid and yet I am not. Do you understand?"

Amlyn pursed his lips gently and thought to ask another question, but held himself. "That must be confusing," he stated plainly, more to himself than to the druid. His eye caught the pouch of notes resting on a side table near his bed, and he wondered briefly about how small his own memories must be in comparison to one of several lifetimes.

Eruic noticed. He walked closer to Amlyn and replied, "Remembering one's past... remembering what one did wrong... It gives the chance to steer clear of repeating the same mistakes. To try and set things right with those that one wronged. Even when they are not alive anymore, by helping others that are in need of one's help, it will help to heal the wounds of the past. It might take many moons, but eventually one realizes that also by forgiving oneself can one hope to start the healing process from within as well. Forgiving oneself, that's the most difficult of all."

Amlyn reached out and picked up the small bundle of notes, placing it in his lap. He felt the coarseness of the leather pouch, taking in the familiar gouges and stains from the years it had been a part of him. Fingers traced lines like old wounds in flesh, while whispered stories of past glory and infamy called out to him, though he knew them by heart. The boy's words made sense, for no atonement could be achieved without a struggle to match good for evil. But...

"...Where do I start?" he finished out aloud.

Eruic gave Amlyn a deep knowing smile, "I leave you these thoughts which were penned down long ago within the green hills and valleys of Druid's Isle:

The Arch-druid's words struck a deep chord in Amlyn. It resonated loudly within the void that lay within himself, passing through the emptiness like the blast of a horn through the still of night. An affirmation of purpose, of self-awareness. Or perhaps just an illumination of the path. To guide a struggle to achieve an understanding of the things that drove him; of what he considered to be important, but perhaps forgot when trampled underneath the memories of hatred. Whatever it was, it was enough. "Thank you," he said.

Eruic walked towards the chamber door. His eyes spoke with compassion as he looked at Amlyn and said, "Be well, Sir Knight. May the gods bless your path and light your way." He gracefully turned again and left.

After the door had closed, Amlyn gently opened the leather pouch and removed the sheaf of paper from within. He took a deep breath... and started to read.