The Castle of Llyr

seem quite so dismal.'

As a soft melody rose from the harp, Llyan began making a peculiar noise. 'Great Belin,' cried Fflewddur, stopping immediately, 'I almost forgot about her! It may be calming for me, but who can tell what it might do to a mountain cat!'

Llyan now voiced a strange, pleading yowl. But, seeing Fflewddur about to sling the harp on his shoulder once again, her tone changed and sharpened. She growled menacingly.

'Fflewddur!' Taran whispered. 'Play on!'

'You can't think she enjoys it,' replied the bard. 'I should find that hard to believe. Why, even human beings have been known to say hard words about my music. You can't expect a mountain cat to like it any better.' Nevertheless, he plucked the strings once more.

This time, there was no doubt in Taran's mind that Llyan was fascinated by the harp. The great body of the cat slackened, her muscles seemed to uncoil, and Llyan blinked peacefully. To make certain, Taran asked Fflewddur to stop. As soon as the bard did so, Llyan turned restless. Her tail lashed and her whiskers trembled with what could only be vexation. As soon as the bard played again, Llyan put her head to one side, ears forward, and gazed fondly at him.

'Yes, yes!' Gurgi cried. 'Do not leave off hummings and strummings!'

'Believe me,' the bard answered fervently, 'I haven't the slightest intention.'

Llyan folded her paws under her deep, speckled chest and began making a sound like a swarm of droning bees. Her mouth curved in a smile and the tip of her tail moved gently to the music.

'That's the answer!' cried Fflewddur, springing to his feet. 'Fly, friends, while she's quiet!' No sooner had he risen than Llyan, too, jumped up, furious, and the bard sank back, playing for dear life.

'Your music calms her,' Taran cried in alarm, 'but she still won't let us go.'

'Not exactly,' said the bard, passing his fingers rapidly across the strings. 'I doubt if the rest of you will have any trouble. Alas,' he added ruefully, 'I fear I'm the one she wants to keep!'

Chapter 8 The Harp of Fflewddur

FLY FROM HERE!' urged the bard, never ceasing to pluck his harp strings. 'Begone! I've no idea how long she'll want to listen? or how long I can keep playing!'

'There must be another way,' Taran cried. 'We can't leave you.'

'I like it no more than you do,' replied the bard. 'But this is your chance. You must take it now.'

Taran hesitated. Fflewddur's face was grim and drawn, and he seemed already weary.

'Begone!' Fflewddur repeated. 'I'll play as long as I can. By then, if she's decided not to gobble me, she may go out hunting. Don't worry. If the harp fails, I'll think of something else.'

Sick at heart, Taran turned away. Llyan lay on her side across the threshold, one paw outstretched, the other gently curled against her tawny body. Her neck arched and her huge head turned toward Fflewddur. The fierce creature seemed altogether comfortable and peaceful. With yellow eyes half closed, she watched only the bard as Taran stealthily moved to join Gurgi and Prince Rhun. Taran's sword remained with the other weapons beneath her paw, and he dared not attempt to snatch it away, fearful as he was of breaking the spell of Fflewddur's harp.

The fallen stones at the corner of the hut gave a narrow passage into the clearing. Taran motioned hurriedly for the Prince to go through. Gurgi followed on tiptoe, eyes wide with fright; he clutched his jaws in both hands to keep his teeth from chattering.

Taran still hung back, and turned once more to the bard, who gestured frantically.

'Out, out!' commanded Fflewddur. 'I shall find you as soon as I can. Did I not promise you a new song? You shall hear it from my own lips. Until then? farewell!'

Fflewddur's tone and glance left no room for question. Taran flung himself past the stones. In another instant he was free of the hut.

As Taran feared, the horses had broken their tethers and fled at the sight of Llyan. Gurgi and Prince Rhun had crossed the clearing and vanished into the forest. Racing at top speed, Taran soon caught up with them. Rhun's pace had already begun to flag, his breathing was labored, and he looked as though his legs might give way at any moment. Taran and Gurgi caught the staggering Prince and bore him along as fast as they could.

For some while, the three struggled through the underbrush. The forest had begun to grow sparser and Taran caught sight of a broad meadow. At the edge of the flatland, he halted. Prince Rhun, he knew, had reached the end of his strength and he hoped only that they were a safe distance from Llyan.

The Prince of Mona gratefully dropped to the turf. 'I shall be up and about in a moment,' he feebly insisted. His face was pale and drawn beneath its coating of soot, yet he tried valiantly to assume his usual cheerful grin. 'Amazing how running seems to tire one. I'll be glad when we find the Master of Horse and I can ride again.'

Taran did not answer immediately but looked closely at Rhun. The Prince of Mona bowed his head.

'I can guess what you're thinking,' Rhun said in a low voice. 'If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't be in this plight. And I'm afraid you're right. It's my fault things turned out as they did. I can only ask your forgiveness. I'm not the cleverest person in the world,' Rhun added, smiling sadly. 'Even my old nurse used to say I was all thumbs. But I hate being a blunderer. It's not what people expect of a Prince. I didn't ask to be born into the Royal House, that at least wasn't my doing. But, since I was, I? I want very much to be worthy of it.'

'If you want to, then you shall.' Taran answered, suddenly and strangely touched by the Prince of Mona's frankness, and not a little ashamed of his own unkind thoughts about Rhun. 'I ask your own forgiveness. If I envied your rank, it was because I believed you held it as a lucky gift and took it for granted. You speak the truth. For a man to be worthy of any rank, he must strive first to be a man.'

'Yes, that's what I mean,' Rhun said eagerly. 'That's why we must rejoin the Master of Horse as soon as we can. Don't you see? In this I'd hoped not to fail. I want? well? I want to be the one who finds Princess Eilonwy. After all, I'm to be betrothed to her.'

Taran looked at him in astonishment. 'How do you know this? I had thought only your parents…'

'Oh, there have been rumors around the castle,' replied Rhun, 'and I sometimes hear a little more than I'm supposed to. I knew there was a betrothal in the wind even before I was sent to bring Princess Eilonwy to Mona.'

'Eilonwy's safe return is all that matters now,' Taran began. He spoke slowly, knowing in his heart that he, no less than Rhun, yearned to be Eilonwy's rescuer. But he realized there was a decision he must face without flinching. 'The searchers by this time are far distant,' Taran said, each word costing him an effort, yet each word forcing him to a choice as painful as it was clear. 'Without horses, we cannot hope to reach them. Continuing our own search on foot would be too hard and too dangerous. We have only one path to follow: the one that will lead us back to Dinas Rhydnant.'

'No, no!' Rhun cried. 'I don't care about the danger. I must find Eilonwy.'

'Prince Rhun,' Taran said gently, 'I must also tell you this. Your father asked for my oath, and I have given it, to keep you from harm.'

Rhun's face fell. 'I might have guessed as much. Certainly I knew from the beginning, no matter what my father said about putting me in command, I wasn't really leading. No more than I am now. I understand. I'm under your orders. Whatever's to be done, you are the one to decide.'

'There are others who can finish the task,' Taran said. 'As for us…'

'See with lookings!' burst out Gurgi, who had been crouching near a fallen ash tree. 'See, coming with chasings and racings!' He waved his arms excitedly and pointed to a low ridge. Taran made out a figure running at top speed.

His harp bouncing at his shoulder, his cloak rolled up and clutched under one arm, and his lanky legs pumping for all they were worth, the bard dashed down the slope. He flung himself to the ground and mopped his streaming face.

'Great Belin!' Fflewddur gasped. 'I'm glad to see all of you again.' From his cloak he drew out the lost swords and handed them to the companions. 'And I think we shall all be glad to see these.'