The Prince of Powys (12 page)

“Yes. Each beast surrounding the dragon’s eye has wings.

They are birds.” Leri pointed to one. “An eagle.” She touched

another. “A crow
.”
She ran her finger down the third. “And a raven.”

“The raven is closer to the eye than the others.” Branda

nibbled on her fingernails.

Leri nodded her head. “The raven, like the crow and eagle,

symbolize gods and goddesses of death, but the raven is Bran’s

symbol. The carvings warn us against trying to take his power.

The gods protect whatever is buried beneath this rock.”

“So, there is a powerful relic—something magical—buried

here but if we take it we wil die?” Branda let out an exasperated

sigh. “Yet Brochfael said Bran means only to test me.”

“Yes, but tests of the gods are hard.” Leri clasped her hands.

“You must keep your wits about you while on this quest. Yet, it

warns only. No one but the pure of heart can claim a relic of

Bran’s power. Whoever finds this magic treasure and remains

alive and whole has met the god’s test.”

Branda rubbed her brow as she gazed at the lines of swirling

feathers that made up the three birds. Her musings were

interrupted by Brochfael when he pushed a wooden block into

the chamber. She jumped as it struck the ground with a loud

thud. Her heart sped up and then settled down when he crawled

into the tomb. Before she could catch her breath, he stood and

puled through a long board held by two guards on the other side

of the tomb.

The guards also crawled through the tight entrance into the

chamber. The rough-hewn men nodded at the princesses then

greeted them with, “M’lady.”

Branda and Leri bobbed their heads in return as they stood.

“This is the lever?” Brochfael set the wooden block down.

The guards lay the board on top. He slid one end beneath the

boulder and dug up the dirt until it was half-way under. He stood

and brushed off his braies.

“Wil it work?” Branda rested one hand on her hip.

“Watch.” He stepped onto the far end of the board. Slowly,

the plank lifted the boulder and dropped it with a crashing

walop, a little way from the original spot.

Leri cupped her chest and closed her eyes as Brochfael

jumped off the plank right before it fel with a loud thump.

“It looks like fun,” Branda’s tone reflected her growing

anticipation of finding the treasure.

“You can do it next time, Princess.” Brochfael grinned but the

upturned smile transformed into an open-mouthed look of shock

as he stared at what had been underneath the huge rock.

Al five of them gulped at the same time.

A nest of writhing, zigzag-striped adders, brown and black, as

wel as two-toned gray snakes aimed their flat heads in the trio’s

direction. Leri, Branda and Brochfael stepped back as forty or

more vipers slinked toward those who had disturbed them.

Leri let out a piercing scream as adders crawled over her feet.

Branda held her torch tighter and huddled against the wal of the

tomb. The two guards backed up against the tomb’s wal beside

tomb. The two guards backed up against the tomb’s wal beside

the Princess.

“Back!” Brochfael yeled at Leri.

She stepped back until she was beside Branda.

One of the adders was a span away from Branda’s feet. She

stooped down, held the flaming torch to the squirming vipers and

set them afire. She and Leri turned toward the wal as they

coughed from the smoke and gagging odor of flaming adders.

Brochfael and the two guards choked on the smoke as they

drew out their swords and clubbed the vipers. The men tried to

catch their breath while more adders crept toward them. Leri

and Branda stepped forward and set more adders on fire.

Finaly, the vipers were slaughtered. Burnt and mutilated dead

snakes scattered the chamber floor.

Brochfael coughed as he scraped the hilt end of his sword in

the dirt trying to see if anything lay beneath. Branda and Leri

wrapped their arms around each other.

Brochfael’s sword clanked against something.

“It sounds like rock.” He knelt down and began digging.

The two guards joined him.

“Wil you look at that,” one of the guards said when he

uncovered a long box, carved out of stone with a lid engraved in

ogham symbols.

Leri held the torch as she read the ancient Druid script. “The

man who steals this sword shal lose both his hands and no

physician wil be able to stifle the endless pain.”

“Wel, that’s morbid,” said one of the guards.

“God’s teeth!” Branda shuddered.

“Should we not open it?” Leri shrugged.

“Do you think there are adders inside?” Branda asked.

“I think this box holds something more deadly than adders.”

Brochfael grunted as he lifted the long, heavy box and set it on

the ground between the bodies of the dead vipers. A heavy chain

was wrapped around it with a lock. “Stand back.” He puled his

sword from its sheath.

“Beware, Brochfael,” Leri yeled out as she and Branda

moved close together.

He swung the sword down in strong whacks until he broke

the lock off. He unraveled the chains and pried the box open

with the tip of his sword. The moment the lid fel off it tripped the cord attached to it and caused a board to rise with an axe blade

cord attached to it and caused a board to rise with an axe blade

mounted upright on it. That triggered another cord which

propeled the deadly blade to swing side to side. Al five of them

gasped in unison.

Brochfael took a deep breath. “The box was rigged, meant to

sever the hands of anyone who opened it.”

Leri exhaled. “Brochfael, thank the gods you are unscathed.”

Branda held her hand over her pounding heart. Brochfael cut

the rigging with his sword and the axe blade and the board it was

mounted on dropped to the dirt. They al huddled around the

box. She held out the torch and peered down.

She saw a snake in the open box. “A viper!” She jumped

back.

Brochfael took the torch from her and held it to the box. “It’s

a sheath encasing a hilted sword. Look, it’s engraved with two

intertwined snakes.”

The treasure!
Branda stepped forward and lifted the sheath from the stone box. She studied the circular patterns inscribed on the bronze hilt. She held her breath as she slowly drew forth the

long sword. It made a scratching sound that got her attention like a drum heralding an important event.

The hilt was heavy, yet smooth and warm. Comforting. She

wrapped her fingers around the sword. Many great men had

held this blade. She was mesmerized and couldn’t tear her gaze

away, couldn’t let go.

“Let me see it.” There was a faint tremor in Brochfael’s voice.

She paused, closed her eyes, and mustered her composure so

she could let go and give it to him.

He sliced the dusty air with the long silver blade. “God’s teeth.

The old weapon has perfect balance. I have never handled its

like.”

The two guards let out a rapt sigh.

“Whose sword is it?” Leri asked with a tinge of wonder.

“Nuada’s,” Brochfael said in a rapt tone. “It’s the magic

sword of Nuada of the Silver Hand.”

“It’s magic?” She couldn’t take her eyes off the gleaming

blade.

“Yes, it’s one of the treasures of the Tuatha De Danann, the

ancient tribe of Ireland. They had great magic.” Leri parted her

lips in awe and her eyes twinkled.

lips in awe and her eyes twinkled.

“Nuada’s sword cleaved al his enemies in two.” Brochfael’s

voice held a rasp of amazement.

Branda cuddled up against her pilow as she listened to the

chirping songs of morning birds. She opened her eyes to the soft

dawn light which shone in through the ample grianan windows.

As she sat up in bed, the first thing she saw was the clay pitchers of daffodils. They’d wilted.

Languidly, she climbed out of bed and padded over to the

flowers. She touched each petal, wishing she could bring the

daffodils back to life. Yet, at the same time, she had an odd

feeling the wilted flowers were a sign Blaise would come home

today.

With a jug of daffodils in each hand she stepped outside and

tossed the dead flowers away then plopped down on the

boulder by the castle gate. As she dangled her feet and stared

down the misty hilside of Dinas Bran, she spied two men, plaid

brats wrapped around them, riding up the narrow mountainside

path. They looked like tartan tents mounted on horses. Blaise

and the messenger.

She remembered the ransom and felt shaky but shook off the

feeling of dread upon realizing she wouldn’t have to leave this

mystic place. She’d found Bran’s treasure. The god promised.

She belonged among the Cymry of Powys and, more

importantly, she belonged with Blaise.

She climbed on top of the boulder and waved to the Prince,

then waited as he rode closer to her. Once Blaise was close

enough for her to see his expression, he appeared startled as if

he’d been deep in thought and just noticed her. He frowned.

Perhaps he wasn’t pleased to see her? What could be wrong?

What happened in Mercia?

“Blaise.” She flashed a wide smile to brighten his mood. “I

have good tidings. The god Bran knows I belong at Dinas Bran.

I can stay here. I wil not have to marry Cuthred.”

“Your father has no wish to marry you to Cuthred, that much

is true.” He deepened his scowl and didn’t look her in the eye.

“Princess, I cannot speak to you now. I have dire news to

deliver to my father.”

deliver to my father.”

“What has happened?” Branda gulped.

“We wil speak of it later. What are you doing alone, outside

the fort’s gates?”

“Druid Neilyn was to keep me company, but he said it was

best he guard me in his head. He is in the temple watching over

me in his mind.”

“Neilyn! That cranky old Druid has grown too crafty to carry

out Elisedd’s commands. Watching you in his mind, indeed.”

“Blaise, pul your steed to a stop right now. Look at me.

Speak to me. Did you not hear what I said about Bran?” She

stomped her foot.

“I must be off to my father’s hal.” He turned to the

messenger. “Escort the Princess to her bower and guard her until

I give you leave.”

“How dare you!” With a jerk of her head she spewed, “I am

given free run of the castle. I need no guard.”

“Princess, there is much you do not know. I wil speak to you

later,” he said in a low, sad tone. “For now, keep to your bower

until the King cals for you.”

“But I found Bran’s treasure, the sword of Nuada.”

“The sword of Nuada?” He paused, baffled. “Very wel,

Princess, we wil talk of it later. Hasten to your bower now.” He

waved his hand airily, gesturing her to go away.

She caled after him. “Blaise!”

He rode on by as if he no longer saw or heard her.
What

happened?

The messenger eased off his horse and gently rested his hand

on her shoulder. “Come with me, Princess Branda.”

“Why did he not speak to me?” She wiped a single tear from

her eye with the back of her hand. “He gave me daffodils before

he left. I belong here. I found the treasure. How can he not know

that I belong in Powys, with him?”

There was a glint of sadness in the guard’s eyes, but he was

silent.

“Leave me alone. I want to be by myself. I found the sword of

Nuada. It wil cleave al Powys’s enemies in two. Now I can

stay in Dinas Bran forever. You need not guard me.”

“You should not be alone now. Come, Princess,” he said in a

pleading tone.

With her head downcast she exhaled. “You must tel Blaise

With her head downcast she exhaled. “You must tel Blaise

what Bran said. He wil not listen to me.”

In a tender voice the guard replied, “Yes, Princess, I wil.”

With leaden steps she folowed him to the sunroom.

* * * *

briskly entered, he brushed the dust off his shoulders and

nodded to his father, seated in the oaken throne.

Elisedd turned his head toward him, keeping his chin at a slight

upward tilt. “My son, what word do you bring from Ethelbald?”

He wore his special crown of twisted gold, which gleamed

regaly as it hugged his brow in a perfect fit.

“I need speak to you alone.” Blaise tilted his broad shoulders

back and stood with his body straight and rigid.

The King’s expression grew stern, his eyes as alert as a

hawk’s. “Leave us.” With a wave of his arm, servants scurried

from the room. “What tidings could be so disarming? Does

Ethelbald refuse to pay the ransom and means to attack Dinas

Bran instead?”

“My sire, I bring unforeseen tidings. Ethelbald of Mercia does

refuse the ransom, for he does not want his daughter.”

Elisedd gripped the arms of the heavy chair and leaned

forward. “What say you?”

Blaise tightened his mouth and stiffened his stance. “He says

she is a stain on Mercia and has banished her from his kingdom.”

“Her own sire does not want her!” Elisedd let out a roar like