The Castle of Llyr

'I should hardly think so, my dear,' answered Rhuddlum. 'This is a heavy charge to bring against a loyal retainer,' he added, looking gravely at Taran. 'Why do you accuse him?'

For a moment, Taran stood perplexed and torn. Gwydion had bound him to secrecy. But now that Magg had struck, must the secret still be kept? Taking his decision, he let the words tumble from his lips, hurriedly and often confusedly telling all that had happened since the companions had reached Dinas Rhydnant.

Queen Teleria shook her head. 'This shoe­maker disguised as Prince Gwydion? or was it the other way around? and ships and torch signals to enchantresses make the wildest tale I've heard, young man.'

'Wild indeed,' said King Rhuddlum. 'But we shall learn the truth easily enough. Fetch the shoe­maker and we shall soon see if he is the Prince of Don.'

'Prince Gwydion seeks Achren,' Taran cried. 'I have given you the truth. If it is not so, you shall take my life for it. Will you prove my words? Fetch your Chief Steward.'

King Rhuddlum frowned. 'It is odd that Magg should not be here,' he admitted. 'Very well, Taran of Caer Dallben. He shall be found and you shall repeat your tale in his presence.' He clapped his hands and ordered a servitor to summon the Chief Steward.

Frantic with anxiety, knowing that time was fleeting and delay could cost Eilonwy's life, Taran was nearly beside himself when the servitor at last returned with tidings that Magg appeared to be no­where in the castle, nor could Eilonwy be found. As King Rhuddlum hesitated, still puzzled by Taran's words, Gurgi, Kaw, and Fflewddur entered the Great Hall. Taran raced to them.

'Magg! That villainous spider!' the bard exclaimed as soon as Taran told him what had happened. 'Great Belin, she's ridden off with him! I saw them galloping through the gate. I called to her, but she didn't hear me. She seemed cheerful enough. I'd no idea anything was amiss. But they're gone, long gone by now!'

Queen Teleria turned deathly pale. The ladies of the court gasped fearfully. King Rhuddlum sprang to his feet. 'You have spoken the truth, Taran of Caer Dallben.'

Shouting for the guard, the King strode from the Great Hall. The companions hastened after him. At King Rhuddlum's hurried orders,, the stables were flung open. Within moments the courtyard filled with warriors and neighing horses. Prince Rhun, meantime, had strolled into the courtyard where he peered at the gathering host.

'Hullo, hullo!' he called to Taran. 'Is this a hunting party? Splendid thought. I should enjoy a brisk morning ride.'

'A hunt for your traitor steward,' Taran retorted, thrusting Rhun aside and making his way to King Rhuddlum. 'Sire, where is your war leader? Give us leave to put ourselves at his service.'

'My war leader, sorry to say, is none other than Magg himself,' the King answered. 'As we've never had a war on Mona, we never needed a war leader, and it seemed quite in order to give Magg the honor­ary title. I shall form up the searching party myself. As for you? yes? by all means help with any tasks that need doing.'

While King Rhuddlum saw to the ordering of the warriors, Taran and the companions labored with all speed, tightening saddle girths and handing out weapons from the armory. Prince Rhun, Taran saw, had clambered astride a swaybacked, piebald mare that persisted in turning in circles despite the efforts of the Prince to control her. Fflewddur and Gurgi had led out three horses. A glance at the animals filled Taran with despair, for they seemed unspirited, of no great mettle, and he wished for the swift-footed Melynlas now grazing peacefully at Caer Dallben.

King Rhuddlum, taking Taran by the arm, drew him hurriedly into an empty stable. 'You and I must speak together,' the King said quickly. 'The warriors are ready and divided into two parties. One I shall lead over the lands south of the River Alaw. You and your companions are to ride with my son, who shall command the search in the Hills of Parys north of the Alaw. It is of him I would speak.'

'Prince Rhun in command?' Taran burst out.

'What then, Taran of Caer Dallben,' King Rhuddlum asked sharply. 'Do you question Prince Rhun's skill?'

'Skill!' Taran cried. 'He has none! Eilonwy's life hangs in the balance; our task must be done without delay. Give command to a feckless fool? He can barely knot a sandal lace, let alone ride a horse or wield a sword. The voyage to Mona showed me more than enough. Choose one of your liege men, a warrior, a forester, anyone save Rhun…' He stopped short. 'Dallben has my oath to protect Eilonwy, and I say what is in my heart. Were I to say less, I would fail my duty. If I am to suffer for my words, then so be it.

'Once again. you speak the truth,' King Rhuddlum answered. 'It is not you who suffers for it, but I.' He put a hand on Taran's shoulder. 'Think you I do not know my own son? You are right in your judgment. But, I know, too, that Rhun must grow to be both a man and a king. You carry the burden of an oath to Dallben. I pray you take the burden of another one.

'Word of your deeds has reached Mona,' King Rhuddlum went on, 'And I have seen for myself that you are a brave lad, and honorable. I confide this knowledge to you: my Master of Horse is a skillful tracker; he rides with your party and in truth shall direct the search. Prince Rhun commands in name only, for the warriors expect leadership from the Royal House. I would entrust my son to you, and beg you to let no harm befall him. Nor,' added the King, smiling sadly, 'to let him make too great a fool of himself. Much he has to learn, and much, perhaps, he may learn from you. One day he must be King of Mona, and it is my hope he will rule honorably and wisely with Eilonwy his Queen.'

'Eilonwy?' Taran cried, 'with Rhun her husband?'

'Yes,' answered King Rhuddlum. 'When the Princess comes of age, it is our desire they shall wed.'

'Princess Eilonwy,' Taran murmured, confused. 'Does she know of this?'

'Not yet. Nor does my son,' said King Rhuddlum. 'Eilonwy must have time to grow used to Mona and our ways here. But I am sure it will be happily arranged. After all, she is a Princess and Rhun is of royal blood.'

Taran bowed his head. The grief in his heart kept him from speaking.

'What say you, Taran of Caer Dallben?' King Rhuddlum asked. 'Will you give me your word?'

From the courtyard Taran could hear the clamor of warriors and the voice of Fflewddur calling his name. Yet these sounds reached his ears as though from a great distance. He remained silent, his eyes downcast.

'In this, I do not speak as liege lord to liege man,' King Rhuddlum added. 'I speak as a father who loves his son.' He paused, watching Taran closely.

At last Taran met the King's eyes. 'I will swear this oath,' he said slowly. 'Your son will come to no harm if it lies in my power to keep him from it.' Taran put a hand to his sword. 'I pledge my life to do so.'

'Go with my thanks, Taran of Caer Dallben,' King Rhuddlum said. 'And help us bring the Princess Eilonwy safely home.'

The bard and Gurgi were already mounted when Taran hurried from the stable. Heavy-hearted, he swung into the saddle. Kaw flew to join him. Prince Rhun, who had finally managed to keep his steed from turning in circles, was shouting commands, unheeded as usual.

As the searching parties galloped out the gates, Taran lifted Kaw from his shoulder. 'Can you find her? Seek her carefully, my friend,' he murmured, while the crow cocked his head and looked at Taran with shrewd eyes. Taran flung his arm upward. Kaw launched himself into the air and sped aloft. Wings beating, the crow circled overhead, drove higher against the sky, then disappeared from sight.

'Yes, yes!' shouted Gurgi, waving his arms. 'Go with flyings and spyings! Lead us to evil, wicked steward!'

'The sooner the better!' cried Fflewddur. 'I can't wait to get my hands on that sneering spider. He shall know the fury of a Fflam!'

Glancing behind him, Taran saw King Rhuddlum's band stream from the castle and turn southward. Ahead, the Master of Horse led his party of warriors toward the higher ground above Dinas Rhyd­nant and signaled for the outriders to search for tracks. Taran's face was set and grim as he rode si­lently next to Fflewddur.

'Have no fear,' the bard assured him, 'we shall bring Eilonwy back with us safe and sound before nightfall, and all of us shall make merry over this adventure. I promise you a new song in celebration!'

'You would do well to make it a chant of betrothal,' Taran said bitterly, 'and sing of the wedding of the Prince of Mona.'

'Rhun?' cried the startled Fflewddur. 'To be wed? I had no idea! That's one disadvantage of being lodged in the stables instead of the castle, you miss the news and gossip. Prince Rhun, indeed! Who is to be his bride?'

Painfully, Taran told the bard of King Rhuddlum's plans and of his own oath to keep Rhun from harm.

'Oho,' said Fflewddur, when Taran had finished, 'so that's the way the wind blows! Strange,' he added, with a