7: Where Was Heard the Mingled Measure

Chapter 7 of "A Grail for Eidothea"

A quick announcement to let you know that I have uncovered another book from the trunk:

The Red Book of Rhiannon!

It’s not like transcribing 19th century handwritten text isn’t a full job in and of itself but I couldn’t resist digging deeper into the trunk.

It looks positively medieval, but I suspect it’s a Victorian confection because the ornate text looks printed. It’s a miscellany of stories and poetry. When my poor eyes need a change, I’ll drop a story under the banner of The Red Book of Rhiannon.

The plan is to send them out midweek on occasion. The first story lands this Wednesday morning (Australian time).

Next week, keep your eyes peeled for a poll on post frequency.

Onto with this week’s installment of “A Grail for Eidothea”…

Eidothea finds out a little about why she transforms into a draig môr. She meets Llyr in the sea cave and heads out to sea with him. He teaches her some seadragon moves and they talk about visions until they reach Caer Morgana. Told that she will transform back into human form once they enter the city, she worries if this is even possible given her unique biology.

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My fears were for naught and soon forgotten once the transformation happened. Llyr and I became human once more and yet we were still deep underwater.

Neither were we naked. Both of us wore pastel-hued robes — his the palest pink and yellow, mine lavender, echoes of our coloured scales. A thick cream belt held the robes together at our waists. Tiny frilled gills encircled our necks in a series of rings.

I tucked the necklace beneath the folds of my robe. My mother’s warning suggested caution, even here.

The long thin braids had reappeared in Llyr’s hair, going back behind his ears. Here in the city, our hair did not float in all directions as you might expect. A bronze torc of thick plaited wire sat around his neck, below his gills.

The atmosphere felt different too, heavier but comforting, like a heavy quilt. No currents from the sea ran here either. We half-walked, half-floated into the city of Caer Morgana.

I knew the story behind the city’s creation. Mother had told me and it sounded like a strange fairy tale at the time. I had written it down but Aunt Norah burned it.

Caer Morgana’s buildings appeared to be made from coral and calcified sand. The buildings glowed golden and featured rounded edges and arches.

Llyr still held my hand, pointing out the landmarks as we traversed further into the city. All was a wonder to me: the buildings, the open plazas, other dreigiau môr, and Llyr.

He carried himself with a quiet confidence, nodding greetings to those we passed. His thumb ran reassuringly across my palm. We walked so close together our skirts mingled. I felt safe with this beautiful man and I was not blind to the coquettish glances others sent his way. It was not solely his beauty that drew me, but rather his gentle patience during our earlier slow descent.

We stopped outside one of the larger residences. Three storeys high, it sprawled twice as wide. :This is where I live.: Llyr led me inside.

The interior matched the exterior, with the addition of woven reed hangings of various geometric designs on the walls and on the polished rock floor. Living sea plants hung from the ceiling or clung to the walls. Golden orbs oscillated a liquid glow from the place high on the walls.

The vestibule opened out to an atrium surrounded by rooms on the other three sides. Corridors led off to other parts of the house.

A woman appeared from one of the corridors. Her silvery grey robes shimmered as she moved. About her neck, she wore a silver torc. :Llyr! You’re back!: She included me in her thought. :Who is this?:

Llyr drew me closer, slinging an arm about my shoulders. :This is Eidothea, Mother. She is not practiced in our ways of conversation, so please be patient.:

His mother gave me a thorough looking over. I took the opportunity to do the same. I would have mistaken her for an older sister, for her hair, laced with tiny seed pearls, remained a glossy black.

She laughed. :Indeed she is unpracticed. But in such a flattering way. Tell me, girl, where are you from if you don’t know how to speak in our manner?:

She led us deeper into the large atrium. Stone couches, padded with woven cushions, were arranged in a large oval.

We sat and I was grateful for the time to gather my thoughts. Llyr sat close to me and reached for my hand. I let him, aware that I needed his show of support.

His mother rose an eyebrow but said nothing. Nothing audible to me. I watched Llyr’s expression turn mulish, then guarded. I gave his hand a squeeze. :Am I getting you into trouble?: I thought at just him.

:Well, child? Where did you spring from?: Her question almost drowned out Llyr’s soft negative.

I took a deep breath to settle my nerves and slowly released it. It was quite odd to breathe in this manner, underwater, and Llyr’s mother noted my action. :My mother’s name is Berlewen.: I included a hazy memory of her.

Llyr’s mother gasped, covering her mouth. :We thought her dead! It’s been years since she came to Caer Morgana. She is alive? Well?: She shook her head, reading my downcast features. :Of course, she isn’t. She would be here with you if she were.: She frowned. :Your mother told me she married a human. Are you not his daughter?:

:I am his daughter and hers.: My throat tightened. I did not care for her insinuation that Mother had had relations with another man. :It is not fully clear what happened, but I was very ill and she used her, “magical energy” was the phrase she used. My father called it magic.:

Her hand remained over her mouth and her shoulders slumped. :I have a feeling your father would never have allowed it if he knew what she really did. In using her grym bywyd, she gave you part of her dreigiau môr self, and this must be how you are here, alive and not drowned.:

:That’s possible?: Llyr asked.

:There are stories of our kind falling in love and giving up that part of themselves in order to fully live on the land.: She looked at me. :We can only live on the coast, you see, and only for a short time. The price for roaming freely across the land is that one’s life is shortened.: She smoothed her robes over her knees. :What else would a mother do when her child is in danger?: She smiled fondly at Llyr.

My eyes filled with tears. A hiccuped sob escaped my lips. Llyr patted my back. His mother moved to my side and took my hands in hers. They allowed me to mourn the enormity of my mother’s sacrifice. When my sobs began to subside, she said, :You have family here. I will take you to meet them and you can mourn your mother with them.:

I wiped my eyes, an unnecessary act in this underwater kingdom. :They will know why Mother came ashore in the first place.:

Llyr’s mother chuckled. :Your mother’s full name is Berlewen Grealseeker. We all know why she went.:

I wanted to know more but Llyr interrupted. :That is for them to share, Mother. But there is something else you need to know about Eidothea and I.:

She stood and called for refreshments, shaking her head. :No, I don’t want to hear it.:

I dipped out of Llyr’s loose embrace, putting a little space between us. His mother began to chatter about the doings of their neighbours.

:Mother.: I heard the amusement in his voice. :It’s not like that.: He smirked at me. :Not that it couldn’t be.:

I rapped his upper arm. The playful retort died on my lips. Once again the vision replayed. When I came to myself, Llyr, his mother and a young woman circled me.

I looked up at them and sighed. :I yelled again?:

Llyr patted my hair. :You couldn’t help it.: He directed my attention to the third person. :This is my younger sister, Ondine.:

I nodded in greeting,

:What was that?: Ondine exclaimed.

:We will tell everyone that you had a nightmare.: Llyr told her.

Ondine pouted. :But what was it?:

:A vision,: I said, wishing everybody would sit down. :Llyr mentioned a prophet and a Court—:

:Ondine, go and do as Llyr asked.: Llyr’s mother cut in, shushing me. :Let us unravel this first. You are too young…:

I thanked Ondine for her aid. She frowned, exiting with a huff.

:We dampened the vision down to just us,: Llyr explained, sitting by me, :But others would have sensed the initial burst.:

His mother sat with a plop. :I have been remiss in introducing myself. I am Councillor Ceridwy ferch Heddwch. Llyr, you think she’s the prophet?:

:She can see a birthmark on my shoulder. One that I can’t see.: He briefly drew down his robe, revealing his broad muscled shoulder and the wine-red birthmark only I could see.

:She is the one we’ve been waiting for? But she’s not even really dreigiau môr!:

:You can say that when she has made the journey and transformed from one form to the other?: Llyr rebutted.

Ceridwy ferch Heddwch sat in stunned silence, her gaze darting between the two of us. :By Morgaine! Does that mean you are the one ordained to rule?: She clasped her hands together. :Oh Llyr! What an achievement! What an honour!:

:Hardly an achievement, more like fate,: Llyr remarked dryly. :Is it possible that I will play another role?:

Ceridwy shook her head. :It’s not possible. The prophet always finds the monarch! And Eidothea has found you.: She leapt to her feet and began pacing. :I know Eidothea should meet her grandparents, but I think it wise you journey to see Maeve first.: To me, she added, :She’s the Old Prophet.:

She continued, :She has lived the stories of the Chosen Court. She will know how to proceed. Morgaine knows the royal family will not be pleased to hear of this.:

:There’s already a king?: I asked.

Between them, they explained it to me. The Chosen Courts had stopped appearing but Caer Morgana still needed governance and so a caretaking king was appointed, until such a time as the next Chosen Court was found.

But centuries had passed and the caretaker council became used to ruling. Yet Maeve, the last prophet had lived on, and so there was always the hope that the Chosen Court would return— and fear, because some surmised that because the Chosen Court was called during their initial settlement they would not reappear unless fresh challenges lay ahead.

My vision proved that fear. Potential disaster lay ahead.

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