The High King

Gurgi's yelping stopped short and he stared at Taran with wide and unbelieving eyes.

The companions started and Eilonwy cried out, 'Taran of Caer Dallben, do you have any idea what you're saying? Has the flame of Dyrnwyn scorched your wits?' Suddenly her voice caught in her throat. She bit her lips and turned quickly away. 'I understand. In the Summer Country we were to be wed. Do you still question my heart? It has not changed. It is your heart that has changed toward mine.'

Taran dared not look at Eilonwy, for his grief was too keen in him. 'You are wrong, Princess of Llyr,' he murmured. 'I have long loved you, and loved you even before I knew that I did. If my heart breaks to part from our companions, it breaks twice over to part from you. Yet, so it must be. I cannot do otherwise.'

'Think carefully, Assistant Pig-Keeper,' Dallben said sharply. 'Once taken, your choice cannot be recalled. Will you dwell in sorrow instead of happiness? Will you refuse not only joy and love but neverending life?'

Taran did not answer for a long moment. When at last, he did, his voice was heavy with regret, yet his words were clear and unfaltering.

'There are those more deserving of your gift than I, yet never may it be offered them. My life is bound to theirs. Coll Son of Collfrewr's garden and orchard lie barren, waiting for a hand to quicken them. My skill is less than his, but I give it willingly for his sake.

'The seawall at Dinas Rhydnant is unfinished,' Taran continued. 'Before the King of Mona's burial mound I vowed not to leave his task undone.'

From his jacket Taran drew the fragment of pottery. 'Shall I forget Annlaw Clay-Shaper? Commot Merin and others like it? I cannot restore life to Llonio Son of Llonwen and those valiant folk who followed me, never to see their homes again. Nor can I mend the hearts of widows and orphaned children. Yet if it is in my power to rebuild even a little of what has been broken, this must I do.

'The Red Fallows once were a fruitful place. With labor, perhaps they shall be so again.' He turned and spoke to Taliesin. 'Caer Dathyl's proud halls lie in ruins, and with them the Hall of Lore and the treasured wisdom of the bards. Have you not said that memory lives longer than what it remembers? But what if memory be lost? If there are those who will help me, we will raise the fallen stones and regain the treasure of memory.'

'Gurgi will help! He will not voyage, no, no!' Gurgi wailed. 'He stays always. He wants no gift that takes him from kindly master!'

Taran put a hand on the creature's arm. 'You must journey with the others. Do you call me master? Obey me, then, in one last command. Find the wisdom you yearn for. It awaits you in the Summer Country. Whatever I may find, I must seek it here.'

Eilonwy bowed her head. 'You have chosen as you must, Taran of Caer Dallben.'

'Nor will I gainsay you,' Dallben said to Taran, 'but only warn you. The tasks you set yourself are cruelly difficult. There is no certainty you will accomplish even one, and much risk you will fail in all of them. In either case, your efforts may well go unrewarded, unsung, forgotten. And at the end, like all mortals, you must face your death; perhaps without even a mound of honor to mark your resting place.'

Taran nodded. 'So be it,' he said. 'Long ago I yearned to be a hero without knowing, in truth, what a hero was. Now, perhaps, I understand it a little better. A grower of turnips or a shaper of clay, a Commot farmer or a king? every man is a hero if he strives more for others than for himself alone. Once,' he added, 'you told me that the seeking counts more than the finding. So, too, must the striving count more than the gain.

'Once, I hoped for a glorious destiny,' Taran went on, smiling at his own memory. 'That dream has vanished with my childhood; and though a pleasant dream it was fit only for a child. I am well-content as an Assistant Pig- Keeper.'

'Even that contentment shall not be yours,' Dallben said. 'No longer are you Assistant Pig-Keeper, but High King of Prydain.'

Taran caught his breath and stared with dis­belief at the enchanter. 'You jest with me,' he murmured. 'Have I been prideful that you would mock me by calling me King?'

'Your worth was proved when you drew Dyrnwyn from its sheath,' Dallben said, 'and your kingliness when you chose to remain here. It is not a gift I offer you now, but a burden far heavier than any you have borne.'

'Then why must I bear it?' cried Taran. 'I am an Assistant Pig-Keeper and such have I always been.'

'It has been written in The Book of Three,' Dallben answered, and raised his hand for silence before Taran could speak again. 'I dared not tell you this. To give you such knowledge would have defeated the prophecy itself. Until this very moment, I was not sure you were the one chosen to rule. Indeed, yesterday I feared you were not.' '

'How then?' Taran asked. 'Could The Book of Three deceive you?'

'No, it could not,' Dallben said. 'The book is thus called because it tells all three parts of our lives: the past, the present, and the future. But it could as well be called a book of 'if.' If you had failed at your tasks; if you had followed an evil path; if you had been slain; if you had not chosen as you did? a thousand 'ifs,' my boy, and many times a thousand. The Book of Three can say no more than 'if' until at the end, of all things that might have been, one alone becomes what really is. For the deeds of a man, not the words of a prophecy, are what shape his destiny.'

'I understand now why you kept my parentage a secret,' Taran said. 'But shall I never be given to know it?'

'I did not keep it secret from you entirely through my own wish,' Dallben answered. 'Nor do I keep it so now. Long ago, when The Book of Three first came into my hands, from its pages I learned that when the Sons of Don departed from Prydain the High King would be one who slew a serpent, who gained and lost a flaming sword, who chose a kingdom of sorrow over a kingdom of happiness. These prophecies were clouded, even to me; and darkest was the prophecy that he who would come to rule Prydair would be one of no station in life.

'Long did I ponder these things,' Dallben continued. 'At last, I left Caer Dallben to seek this future king and to hasten his coming. For many years I searched, yet all whom I questioned well knew their station, whether shepherd or war leader, cantrev lord or Commot farmer.

'The seasons turned; kings rose and fell, wars turned to peace, and peace to war. Indeed, on a certain time, as many years ago as you yourself have years, a grievous war was upon the land, and I despaired of my quest and turned my steps once more toward Caer Dallben. On that day I chanced to pass a field where a battle had raged. Many lay slain, noble as well as humble folk; even the women and children had not been spared.

'From the forest nearby I heard a piercing cry. An infant had been hidden among the trees, as though his mother had sought, at the last, to keep him safe. From his wrappings I could judge nothing of his parentage and only sensed with certainty that both mother and father lay upon that field of the slain.

'Here, surely, was one of no station in life, an unknown babe of unknown kin. I bore the child with me to Caer Dallben. The name I gave him was Taran.

'I could not have told you of your parentage, even had I wished to,' Dallben continued, 'for I knew it no more than you did. My secret hope I shared only with two others: Lord Gwydion and Coll. As you grew to manhood, so our hopes grew, though never could we be certain you were the child born to be High King.

'Until now, my boy,' said Dallben, 'you were always a great 'perhaps.' '

'What was written has come to pass,' Gwydion said. 'And now in truth we must say fare­well.'

The chamber was silent. Llyan, sensing the bard's distress, nuzzled him gently. The companions did not move. It was Glew who stepped forward and spoke first.

'I've been carrying this with me ever since I was so shabbily hustled away from Mona,' he said, drawing from his jacket a small blue crystal which he pressed into Taran's hand. 'It reminded me of my cavern and those grand days when I was a giant. But for some reason I don't want to be reminded of them any longer. Since I don't want it? here, take it as a small remembrance of me.'

'He's still hardly the most generous spirit in the world,' muttered Fflewddur, 'but I've no doubt it's the first time he's ever given anybody anything. Great Belin, I swear the little fellow's actually grown' another inch!'

Doli had taken the handsomely crafted axe from his belt. 'You'll need this,' he told Taran, 'and it should serve you well in many tasks. It's Fair Folk quality, my lad, and you'll not blunt it easily.'

'It can serve me no better than did its owner,' Taran replied, clasping the dwarf's hand, 'and its metal cannot be as true as your own heart. Good old Doli…'

'Humph!' The dwarf snorted furiously. 'Good old Doli! I've heard that somewhere before.'