As spring tilted into summer, cantrev leaders began to arrive from every corner of Prydain. They were a motley group: kings and war leaders; grizzled older men and fresh-faced youths; some as serious as an arrow tip, and others as irreverent as jests at a funeral. There were close to thirty all told—and, as quickly became evident, at least thrice that many grudges, alliances, rivalries, and secrets between them. The courtyards were soon crowded with pavilions, smaller tents, tethered horses, milling guardsmen, and enough icy glares to freeze a river. By the looks of it, the Great Council was shaping up to be a delightful time, indeed.
On the morning of the first official meeting, there was more than a little intentional jostling as everyone filed into the Great Hall and vied for position around the three long tables placed end-to-end. Taran watched as they entered, struggling to recall all of their names and the cantrevs from which they hailed. It was not easy. He had met with many of them briefly at Caer Dallben, and spoken to the rest as they'd arrived at Caer Dathyl, but few were well-known to him. Seeing them all assembled, awaiting his leadership, a nervous energy began to fill the space where his breath ought to be, and his mouth felt as dry as old leather.
"Oh, look," Eilonwy muttered under her breath. "His Royal Surliness deigned to show up after all. He must have arrived just this morning."
Taran glanced down the table. Sure enough, there near the far end was Rhodri, wearing his customary scowl. Taran felt irritation grappling with satisfaction at the king's decision to attend. After the chilly reception he'd shown them in Cantrev Rheged, they certainly hadn't expected him to come, for all that Lady Ffion had assured them he would. Nor did Taran expect his antagonism toward them to be any less now. But at least, with him present, there was a chance that might change. He seemed on reasonably good terms with the other cantrev leaders, too—exchanging polite, if stern, greetings as they crossed paths—so, he did not seem likely to cause any trouble in that regard.
The same could not be said of Tegwyn and Cedrych, two Hill Cantrev kings. Taran felt a headache coming on just looking at the pair of them glowering across the table at each other. From what Taran could gather, there was a bitter and long-standing feud between the two, although no one seemed to know the exact cause. Forewarned by Iscawin, Taran had strategically arranged their pavilions on opposite sides of the courtyard with ample tents between to block their views of each other, but that only slightly blunted their belligerence. Apparently, out of sight was never out of mind with those two. They had been taking verbal swipes at each other from the moment they'd arrived, battering the ears of everyone within earshot as they lobbed insults back and forth. At least twice, they would have come to physical blows had King Smoit not intervened.
Taran was immensely grateful for their old friend's presence. Filling the space of two men in a seat near the head of the table, Smoit was a reassuring beacon of familiarity. His boisterous roars of welcome and colorful jests were heartening, to be sure. Just as importantly, though, his immense physical presence seemed to help cow the more irascible cantrev leaders into some semblance of a truce. They well knew Smoit's prowess in combat matched or exceeded his friendliness in the feasting hall, and thought it wise to stay on his amiable side.
"Hmm. It appears King Elystan managed to stay sober enough last night to be functional this morning, too," Eilonwy muttered again, nodding to the handsome rake from Cantrev Rhos, a realm bordering Fflewddur's. "I swear, he and his men seem bent on downing every last drop of ale to be had in Caer Dathyl, and the surrounding cottages besides!"
Indeed—and inciting more than a few drunken brawls in the process, Taran thought ruefully. Elystan's group had been one of the first to arrive and had scarcely left off carousing since. Caer Dathyl's guards had mostly been able to keep the peace, but even then, the noise of it all had disturbed many a person's sleep. When Taran had asked Fflewddur if such behavior was typical of the king, the bard merely snorted and advised him to set an extra watch over both the wine and young women in the castle, lest Elystan be tempted to get too friendly with either.
Not all of the cantrev leaders were so troublesome—some, like Meilyr, were merely unpleasant. The presence of so many older, more experienced rulers appeared to dampen the young king's condescension somewhat, but only somewhat. At every possible opportunity, he would insert some passing reference to his wealth or power into his conversations with those rulers, puffing himself up as best he could so as to stand tall among them. And although Taran couldn't hear him over the rumbling chatter in the room, it looked as though he were at it again, speaking to both Iscawin and King Dirmyg of Dau Gleddyn.
While Taran conducted his survey of the crowd, Eilonwy, too, was taking its measure. A roomful of faces sat before her, and she saw nary a single queen nor court lady among them save for Telyn. When a handful of women had arrived with their husbands, Eilonwy had briefly hoped they might be likeminded company—women of some substance and experience, eager to take part in the Great Council. That hope had soon been dashed. Every last one of them proved to be a typical court lady inside and out: cultured, coiffed, well-versed in acceptably 'ladylike' pursuits, and generally insipid. From what she could gather, they seemed to have come simply for the novelty of the occasion and the chance to gossip farther afield than usual—or, in the case of Queen Rhelemon, to keep her husband Elystan's wandering eyes and hands in check. And given the evident flirtatiousness of Tegwyn's wife, Queen Carys, it was probably wise that she had. Eilonwy found herself half wishing Queen Teleria had come herself instead of sending Lord Grigor as her delegate. Her absence was understandable given the succession problem she faced, having lost both husband and son so recently, but it was still unfortunate. Fussy and overbearing as the Queen of Mona could be, she at least had some sense and skill about her. Having Lady Ffion present would have been better still; she'd seemed a woman who knew her way around a council chamber. But it was not to be. Now, looking out at the roomful of men, Eilonwy felt disappointed anew—and as conspicuous as a white crow besides.
Eilonwy was not the only person to notice how sorely she and Telyn stood out from the crowd. As they took their own places, several of the cantrev lords stared at them bemusedly, as though they had sprouted feathers from their heads. Others shifted awkwardly in their seats and exchanged glances of displeasure. King Aldryd of Cantrev Mawr—an older, slightly paunchy, and generally stuffy-looking man—cleared his throat loudly and rose to speak.
"I gather that Queen Eilonwy and Lady Telyn are to join in the Council, Your Highness?" he asked Taran. His tone clearly implied more protest than question. "Is it really within their purview to weigh in on matters of state?"
Eilonwy's and Telyn's heads immediately snapped to attention on him. Eilonwy's lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. Telyn's eyebrow quirked upward with incredulous disdain.
"That is to say," Aldryd bumbled, sensing trouble and attempting a partial retreat, "I assume they would likely find it quite tedious—all of the complex details, and lengthy negotiations, and historical precedents involved. Surely, they would prefer the company of other ladies to political discourse."
Before Taran could utter a word defending their presence, Eilonwy cut in. "Lord Aldryd, are you truly suggesting that you know the thoughts in my head better than I do myself?" She managed to keep her seat, but her knuckles were white where she clenched the arms of her chair, and the edge of anger in her voice was barely sheathed. "It is absolutely within my purview to take part in this Council. Moreover, it interests me far more than court gossip, or needlework, or whatever else it is you think I should concern myself with."
Startled and put on the defensive, Aldryd dug in his heels. "I take you at your word, Your Majesty, that you have a sincere interest. Yet, even so, I have never heard of a woman participating in a council, save when her husband was unable to be present—which is not the case here."
"I will not be thrown out of my own Great Hall like a sack of turnips!" Eilonwy protested, incensed. "And if I am not mistaken, Lord Aldryd—and anyone else here who objects to my presence," she added with a stern look around the room, "—I do outrank you. Now, I generally think royal hierarchies are rubbish. And I certainly am not claiming an inherent superiority because of rank; that would be as ridiculous as saying a branch is better than a root simply because it grows higher up on the tree. But it does mean that you cannot order me about, or exclude me from important councils, or speak to me as though I were a silly little girl who doesn't know a toll from a tariff. I did not take kindly to such behavior before I was Queen, and I certainly don't intend to begin now."
"My wife never attends councils," Elystan muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Eilonwy snapped, although she'd heard him perfectly clearly.
"Well, it would be a misuse of her time, would it not?" Elystan replied more loudly, with a casual wave of his hand. "Her energies are best directed elsewhere, to the sorts of things women handle best. I wouldn't presume to know the first thing about caring for infants, or spinning thread, or the dispensation of gifts, and what have you—and a lady would struggle to understand the issues we will be discussing here. It is a simple fact: women do not think like men."
"All the more reason for us to remain," Telyn interjected—coolly, but with an undertone suggesting she was ready to pounce. She waited a beat as all eyes shifted from Eilonwy to her. "You can be sure we will make decisions with our heads, instead of other… ah… appendages," she concluded, with a smirk and a pointed downward flick of her eyes in Elystan's direction.
"Ho! Oho! She has you there!" Smoit roared out with a hearty laugh, slapping his meaty palm down on the table. "Were you not told? Lady Telyn has claws! Have a care that you do not give her reason to take a swipe at you."
Elystan turned bright red and spluttered incoherently. Frustrated and embarrassed, both he and Aldryd looked to Taran for assistance while a few of the other men chuckled.
Taran merely shook his head and gave them a wry, cautionary half-smile. "Let it be known," he said, "that Queen Eilonwy is my highest and most trusted advisor. She will attend any council she sees fit, and her word shall be given weight equal to my own. Lady Telyn, too, is a loyal friend, and I welcome whatever insight she has to offer us here. I will say no more on the matter."
The two cantrev kings scowled and sunk a little lower in their seats, but refrained from further suppositions about the intellect and propensities of women.
"Now then," Eilonwy stated matter-of-factly, "since we've settled that matter, we can get down to the actual purpose of this council: making some sense of what needs to be done where, and when, and who shall be in charge of it. I realize that sounds as vague as a puff of smoke, but that is about where we stand, isn't it?"
A roomful of nods indicated agreement, but none dared speak. Taran rose to address the assembly.
"I have asked you here to join in this Great Council because I want all to have a voice in the future of Prydain," he began. "Much has been accomplished in recent months, but there is far more yet to be done, and the doing will require many hands, working together. We have overcome Arawn and won ourselves peace. Yet, that peace is tenuous; like a thin layer of ice that barely restrains the river beneath, it could break with the slightest misstep. We must continue to work as allies, to deepen that peace and to strengthen it."
"If loyalty is what you are after," King Tegwyn interrupted with a smirk and a dismissive wave of his hand, "you may as well dismiss Cedrych straight away. He has about as much loyalty as an alehouse maid."
Burly King Cedrych turned scarlet and sprang to his feet, nearly toppling his chair in the process. "How dare you question my loyalty, you fluttering grouse?" he fumed. "I am stalwart as a fortress! Steadfast as a mountain! You are the one who flits about like a honeybee in a field of clover!"
"Oh no, here they go again…" Fflewddur grumbled to Telyn. "Haven't they given our ears enough of a drubbing already?"
Tegwyn sneered at Cedrych. "Steadfast as a mountain? Dull as a rock, is more like it. In fact, I think there are stones in my castle walls that are livelier than you."
"Oh, you're a fine one to talk about liveliness—you're as sluggish on the battlefield as an overfed cow," Cedrych retorted. "And for that matter, I'll happily show you how lively my sword-arm is if you'll just step outside. Or are you afraid to look like a fool in front of every cantrev lord in Prydain?"
"Better to look like a fool than to be one," Tegwyn countered.
Cedrych turned crimson with rage. "Are you insulting my wit, you knock-kneed, rawboned, pasty-faced little milksop?"
Now Tegwyn leapt from his chair. "Oh, that is just like you," he spat, jabbing a finger in Cedrych's direction, "always more concerned with appearances than substance! You have all the depth of a rain puddle and none of the capacity for reflection!"
"Ha! Better than having the courage of a hare," Cedrych snapped back. "Unlike you, I don't scamper off at the first sign of a challenge! I remember only too well the time that you—"
While the volley of insults flew across the table, the other councilors sat in startled silence. Meilyr and several of the more solemn leaders leaned back in their seats, aghast at the uncivilized outbursts. Elystan chuckled behind his hand, as if he knew the story behind some of the taunts. Rhodri scowled and Telyn rolled her eyes, both evincing disgust at the kings' pettiness. Gurgi trembled a bit and looked as though he wanted to duck for shelter beneath the table. Eilonwy rose and stood with her hands on her hips, one eyebrow cocked, seemingly on the verge of joining the fray herself so as to tell both kings exactly what she thought of them. Taran's shoulders slumped and he wore an expression of bewildered dismay. Even Smoit and Fflewddur seemed unsure of how to dam the sudden torrent of insults. Only Iscawin appeared unruffled; he sat quietly, unreadable, analyzing the situation like a war leader surveying a battlefield.
Finally, Iscawin stood and leaned forward, planting both hands firmly on the table. "My lords," he said, calmly but with purpose, giving them each a look that cowed them into silence. "We all stand in awe of your ingenuity at crafting stinging remarks—and no doubt you have grievances that justify them. Nevertheless, they distract us from our purpose. We require sharp wits here, not cutting words. If you will please resume your seats, we may proceed with the business at hand."
Sullenly, both kings sat down, still glaring venomously at each other. Iscawin nodded, resumed his own seat, and gestured toward Taran, giving him back the floor. Taran cast a grateful look his way, then began again.
"As I was saying, there is much to be decided, and much to be done," he continued. "And we can ill afford to waste a single hour, let alone days," he added, with a significant glance around at those who had already hindered proceedings. "One of the most critical matters to address is the number of vacant thrones in play. The war leaders of those cantrevs formerly ruled by the House of Don or kings who fell in battle have done admirably well in managing their realms and keeping the peace. Nevertheless, we must have a lasting solution as to who will hold power. I have my own thoughts on the matter, but would like to hear yours before making a final decision."
"Shouldn't those war leaders be elevated to kingship and continue to hold those lands?" asked Lord Selyf, of the Eastern Strongholds. "It only seems logical; they are already in charge, and have the greatest knowledge of the realms."
"Hmph. You would say that," Meilyr grumbled. "Seeing as you are one of those war leaders yourself."
"And what would you do? Turn the lands over to kings like you, who have more than enough land and power already?" chimed in Lord Brynmor, another war leader from the eastern lands.
"If their realms are adjacent to those lacking a king, then yes," put in King Dirmyg of Dau Gleddyn. "We kings have proven our ability to maintain control, over years—over generations. Those lines should be continued and strengthened."
"Yes, you've proven your ability to cling fast to power while your people suffer," Brynmor sneered. "Why should we hand even more power your way?"
"Hear, hear!" cried Selyf. "Just look how King Morgant let power go to his head a few years past. And we all remember how the kings of the Southern Cantrevs squandered resources and lives in that uprising with the Horned King. We'd be fools to bolster the strength of confirmed traitors—or their kin," he added with a glare toward Meilyr.
Meilyr flushed bright red beneath his mop of dark hair. He opened his mouth to fire back, but was drowned out by the chorus of agreement erupting from the war leaders in attendance and loud boos from the disapproving kings.
"My blood and bones! You watch your tongue, you young upstart!" Smoit bellowed above the din, pounding his massive fist on the table so hard that its planks shuddered. "I've shed blood defending the House of Don more times than you've shaved your beard, Selyf! Don't lump me in with the likes of those self-serving back-stabbers."
"Back-stabbers!" Rhodri growled through clenched teeth. "It is easy enough for you to pass judgement on our actions when your lands are flourishing, Smoit. Sometimes, distasteful alliances must be made for the sake of survival. I won't be disparaged for doing so."
"Besides," Meilyr cut in, "the war leaders are far from innocent when it comes to treachery. What of those who served Pryderi? By rights, they shouldn't be allowed to keep their heads, let alone entire cantrevs."
Another clamorous round of shouts broke out from all sides of the Great Hall.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" put in Fflewddur. "Civility, please! There is no need to dig up the mistakes of the past. It is the present and future that concern us now. Our duty is to Prydain as a whole—"
"Ha! What right have you to talk about duty?" Elystan scoffed with a smirk and a cheeky tilt of his chin. "I'm surprised your subjects even recognize you, given how little time you actually spend in your realm."
Fflewddur's diplomatic demeanor vanished in an instant. "Says the man who spends more time flat on his back after a night of revelry than he spends governing!" he fired back. "A Fflam never shirks his responsibilities!" With that, he sprang up and looked ready to launch into a rather uncivil fist-fight himself, but Telyn grabbed his arm and pulled him back down into his chair with a thump.
"Enough!" Eilonwy cried out from the head of the table, her hands clapped over her ears. "You hotheads are worse than a swarm of angry hornets! I'm beginning to think none of you should rule any lands at all! We could just turn all of the realms into Free Commots and let the people choose their own leaders. Just… Ooooo…. Just go outside for a while—and don't even so much as look at each other while you're out there—and come back when you can sit down and discuss these matters like grown men! Really!"
Dead silence fell for a moment as all of the kings and war leaders stared, wide-eyed, at the seething High Queen. Taran stood by more calmly, but with a look of utter disappointment and fatigue in his eyes.
"Do as your Queen commands," he said flatly. "We will adjourn for now. Go, take some time, get some fresh air, and consider ways to present your arguments without insult. We will resume after the midday meal—and not conclude, mind you, until we have devised at least a framework for governance of the cantrevs in question."
With much rustling of robes, shuffling of boots, and not-so-quiet grumbling, the councilors filed out of the Great Hall. Fflewddur, still agitated, made a move to confront Elystan, but Telyn clapped her hands on his shoulders and forcefully steered him away.
"Honestly! I thought you had more sense than to get worked up over a churlish insult," she muttered.
"I know, I know. But a man has his limits!" the bard whispered loudly over his shoulder as Telyn continued pushing him toward the door.
Once the last councilor had left and the doors of the hall swung shut, Eilonwy bent forward and planted her forehead on the table dejectedly. Taran rested a hand on her back and heaved a frustrated sigh.
"Well, I suppose we've bought ourselves a couple of hours to prepare for the next bout, if nothing else…" he said, aiming for a tone of optimism but landing in the range of weary resignation. "With luck, they will be in a better temper once they have some food in them—that seems to work for Smoit…"
"I wouldn't count on it," Eilonwy replied, her voice muffled against the table.
The afternoon session passed with only half as much bickering and insults, but resolution had still not been reached by supper time, so Taran and Eilonwy were forced to adjourn yet again and face the prospect of a long night ahead. The evening meal was a much quieter affair than usual, with so few of the disgruntled cantrev leaders willing to speak to each other. Fflewddur, Gurgi, Telyn, and Smoit were engaged in a lively conversation, but the rest spent as much time looking daggers at each other as they did chewing their meat. Taran and Eilonwy, for their part, surveyed the hall from the high table, trying to determine more clearly where their guests' loyalties and grudges lay by their behavior toward each other.
At the end of the meal, as platters were being cleared and the hall tables reset for the continuation of the Council, Iscawin approached Taran and pulled him aside. "The meetings this morning and afternoon caused you a great deal of frustration, I noticed."
"Yes," Taran admitted after a moment's hesitation. "I expected a fair amount of disagreement, but nothing quite like that."
"Oh, it is quite impressive how rapidly grown men can turn into bickering children when their power and reputation are at stake," Iscawin answered. "Not everyone shares your high-minded nature. And unfortunately, there are many past grievances among the cantrev lords that you had no part in creating but must contend with all the same."
Taran's mouth pressed into a determined line. "So it would seem."
"Well, it is not my place to dictate the way you manage your court…" Iscawin continued, "…but a few words of advice, if you will take them: these men are warriors first and foremost, so act accordingly. Treat any discourse with them as you would a battle. Make an initial show of force, gain control of the field quickly, and hold it fast. Be wary of ceding too much ground, and do not allow them to lure you onto unstable terrain. Try to anticipate the moves others will make. Know when to attack directly, when to strike from the flank, and when to make a strategic retreat so that you may redouble your assault from a stronger position. You have acted as a war leader before, so you understand such things. Use that to your advantage."
Taran nodded, considering the older king's words. "It certainly felt much like a battle today. My spirit feels bruised and bloodied, even if my body is sound."
"They ran roughshod over the negotiations because you allowed them to," Iscawin said frankly. "Take a firmer stance when we resume and you will fare better, I think."
"I must fare better—there is far too much at stake."
"You shall. From all I have seen and heard thus far, you have good mettle," Iscawin reassured him. "And for my part, I will gladly serve as your ally in this endeavor—call upon me as you wish."
"You have my thanks," Taran replied, searching the man's eyes for any sign of insincerity or ill intent. While he was grateful for the advice, which appeared sound, he was also wary of Iscawin's motives in offering it. Telyn's still-unexplained hatred of the king chewed at the back of his mind. He'd witnessed no suspect behavior from Iscawin thus far, nor had any other leaders spoken against him, and he read nothing amiss in the man's expression now. And yet…
Iscawin gave Taran a deferential nod and half-smile, interpreting his pause as an end to the conversation. "Back to the Council, them," he said. "Into the fray."
Meanwhile, Eilonwy stepped outside briefly for one last deep breath of fresh air before the councilors reassembled. She found Telyn already there, apparently doing the same, leaning against the rough stone wall and gazing up at the sunset-blazed clouds. She glanced over as Eilonwy approached.
"Come for a last taste of freedom before we're locked away once more in the wolves' den?" Telyn asked.
"Hmn. I think I would prefer a wolves' den, actually," Eilonwy replied, leaning against the wall herself. "They don't seem to attack out of spite. Nor do they make foolish comments about where a lady should or should not be present."
"Too true," Telyn agreed with a light laugh. "That seems to be a particular problem among the nobility: not appreciating the wisdom their women have to offer."
"Yet another thing that needs to be fixed around here," Eilonwy sighed, thinking back to each instance of opposition she'd already faced in her work at Caer Dathyl.
"Well, it is certainly within your power to do so," Telyn remarked. "I'd say you laid a good foundation for it already today. And I will gladly help you build upon it in any way I am able—just say the word."
"Oh, you've already been a great help. The way you put Elystan in his place this morning was marvelous," Eilonwy replied. "You may not open your mouth often, but when you do, you bite!"
One corner of Telyn's mouth twitched up in a sly smile and her eyes glinted with mirth. "The look on his face was rather priceless, wasn't it? But I only bite when provoked—as you yourself are wont to do, really."
At that, Eilonwy first grinned, then frowned a little. "I suppose I should try harder to appear dignified and composed, shouldn't I? When I was at Dinas Rhydnant, studying to be a lady—as if I weren't one all along—Queen Teleria was forever reminding me that a queen should be able to command the attention of an entire room without raising her voice. It's so difficult, though, when someone says something vexing; my skin gets hot, and my tongue prickles like I've just bitten into a mouthful of nettles, and before I know it, I've lost my temper and the words come bursting out."
"I am guilty of that myself," Telyn admitted. "But I think it is warranted sometimes," she added with a shrug.
"Perhaps…" Eilonwy concurred, neither feeling nor sounding entirely reassured.
"Listen—you are Queen Eilonwy, not Queen Teleria," Telyn reminded her. "And thank goodness, because from the image you've stitched of her, she would have fainted in horror at some of the things said in that meeting, which would have accomplished nothing. You at least stood your ground."
"But that's just it—I simply cannot stand down when people are spouting off nonsense. It would be easier to turn my nose green than to bite my tongue."
"Keep speaking up, then, and don't fret over it," Telyn continued. "Sooner or later, everyone will learn to expect that of you. If you can learn to be a bit more diplomatic about it, so much the better; but if not…" She gave another shrug. "Be your own sort of leader—the sort of leader you think Prydain needs. After all, that's what all of those kings and war leaders in there do, with no qualms about it," she added with a head-tilt toward the Great Hall. "So, why not you, too?"
A smile finally broke through Eilonwy's brooding expression. "Yes, I suppose that does make the most sense, doesn't it?" she agreed. "It's certainly simpler than trying to nudge people around to my way of thinking without them noticing the change of direction."
"Exactly. There is a time and a place for that sort of subtlety, of course—but from what we've seen today, this particular Council isn't either of those."
Just then, the ringing of a loud bell sounded the recommencement of the meeting.
"Well, here we go again…" Eilonwy muttered. "Let's hope their desire to finish this up and get some sleep tonight exceeds their urge to squabble."
.
A/N: Outsize egos + long-term grudges + excessive testosterone concentration = bad day. Gotta love those group meetings that go on for hours and accomplish nothing... Better luck tomorrow Taran and Eilonwy. ;)
