Chapter 8 - All the King’s Men

by james attwood

Glaring sun bore down on the children as they walked the winding path the river carved. Through glorious fields and shaded trees, they stuck by its side, waiting for any sign of the broader waters which might house their clever fish. Their horizon may have been bright, but the white capped mountains stood as a stark reminder of the cold that would greet them as soon as they lost sight of the sun. This underlying chill had kept Orson damp even after the morning’s trek, not that he minded any more, he was far too preoccupied playing navigator with Fred at the front. The sisters trudged behind, tired of what they felt had become a slog. They were on their toes at first, alert for any danger that might be stalking them, but all they had seen was the usual fauna of Wales, just more of it. The boar were a new sight, certainly to them, but they had kept their distance all the same. Their guttural grunts weren’t inviting in the least.

            Come to think of it few of the animals they’d seen appeared welcoming. The boar made an aggressive display before shuffling off into the bushes, sheep huddled together in fields like Roman shield bearers preparing for an onslaught, even the birds flew as high as they could as if they were afraid of landing. The bristly hairs of some creature stood on end above the brush, a bear perhaps, though it was far too tall even for that. This beast in particular frightened the children, but it ruffled on through the woods, pushing through as though it were a mammoth lost in Wales, none too concerned with such tiny visitors.

It was disquieting to see this rugged landscape so shy, so devoid of life. Even the river trickled to a fraction of its width, now a transparent worm plucking up the fallen amber leaves as it snaked between the trees. Eventually it vanished into the ground altogether, their compass sunk into the ice hard dirt beneath the fallen husk of a tree. Fred craned his head to look beneath, at a loss he walked to the other side of the tree and still could see no stream, not even a puddle.

            “Guys...the river’s gone.” He reluctantly announced, unsure of how to proceed now that what he’d been following for miles had dissipated.

            “What do you mean gone?” Hope asked, puzzled as to how her brother could lose a river.

            “I don’t know!” He kicked at the layer of autumnal debris at his feet, pushing swathes of leaves to the side. Still no river revealed itself. “It must have dried up or gone under or something?”

            Hope began to deride her little brother, “Ugh you had one-”

            “Sh!” Maeve shushed them, holding her index finger up as if to conjure a spell of complete silence. Much to her surprise it worked. She could hear a rumbling in the distance, as if the trees themselves were falling like dominoes towards them. “Do you hear that?”

            Before anyone could reply, the source of the commotion made itself known. A herd of deer tore over the ridge to their right, dozens of them stampeding blindly towards them. They all shouted out to one another, but their voices couldn’t be heard over the storm of hooves. Fred waved his arms wide and slipped behind the decaying tree, grabbing Orson as he went. Hope and Maeve followed, falling behind it just in time as the deer careered across their path. They hunkered down and covered their ears, screaming as the rotten bark of their cover was chipped and battered as deer after deer leapt over it. It went on for agonizing seconds, the trunk bouncing under the strain as it bore the brunt of this herd. Eventually the chaos subsided. A few stragglers bounded either side of them, one kicking profusely with its hind leg. Black and grey balls stuck to its bloodied back like limpets, but one was shaken free and sent flying before it strode on to catch up to the group.

            The bundle of hair no larger than a fist uncurled and righted itself before them, its ringed tail whipping out to reveal it was nothing more than a rat. Catching sight of the children still huddled together for dear life, it stood on its hind legs and looked their way. Pearlescent eyes lingered on each of them a while, head shifting and nose twitching as it sniffed out their presence. Content with whatever it had been trying to discern it scampered off in the opposite direction to the deer, back to where the stampede had come from. Maeve stared at it curiously before it disappeared into the bushes, but the rest were too relieved to be standing unharmed to be concerned with a single rat. What was that? She thought to herself, any old rat would make her skin crawl but this one seemed to be up to something.

            “That was too close!” Orson gasped, brushing away the leaves that had clung to his still damp clothes. “Since when do rats cause stampedes anyway?”

            “Probably just spooked them. I sneezed next to a cow once and boom, complete chaos!” Fred didn’t dwell on the oddity they’d just witnessed, for all he knew there was something far bigger that had actually chased the deer. Bearing this in mind he sought to picking up the water’s tracks again.

            With the woods silent once more he caught the faintest noise with his ear, it reminded him of his grandfather’s pond fountain, how he could always hear its trickle long before he could see it when they visited. He proceeded onwards, carefully following the course of where the river might have been had it still ran above ground. Soon the trickle became a torrent and Fred found himself overlooking a sudden drop. The ground tore apart into a ravine, earth worn asunder by the gushing waterfall that erupted below.

Pleased with himself he called out, “Found it!”

            “That’s a long way down.” Hope peered over next to him, not so happy that her brother had come through so quickly given that it led them to this.

            “Kind of looks like a path doesn’t it?” He pointed to what may have once been a flattened trail but was now most certainly the result of a muddy landslide.

            “Do we have to go down?” Maeve was disheartened with the prospect, besides the fear of being trampled she’d enjoyed the ease of walking in the woods.

            “Might lose it from up above...” Fred reasoned, trying to make out the river’s trajectory ahead. “I mean it’s got to level out at some point, safe from stampedes down there too.”

            “Haven’t you ever seen any films?” Maeve rolled her eyes but followed her brother anyway, he’d steered them right so far and she was painfully aware that the last lake they’d visited had indeed been subterranean.

            Slowly but surely, they inched down into the ravine, staring up at the waterfall behind them in awe, wondering how such a powerful force had eluded them. Heavy slate slabs marked out the path from underneath years of collapse and remnants of a rope fence clung to the ridge’s edge, each post doing its best not to fall into the white waters below. Much like any human craftsmanship they’d come across, it was in ruins, but it marked a way for them to proceed. A way others had made it through in the past and just another obstacle course to navigate for Fred. Following in his footsteps they found themselves within the depths of the ravine and next to the river once more, its waters more frantic than ever. Soon they hit an impasse however, a broken bridge spread between two great boulders, now just a few planks of dead wood incapable of standing up to the power of the rapids that rose above its boundary.

            “What now?” Orson was daunted by the six-foot gap, the river splashing at his feet. He tip toed to the edge of the rock on which they stood, adamant he wouldn’t take another dive today.

            Hope stared at the other side, at a rope that flailed in the rapids, still barely attached to the wooden struts above. “I can make it. Jump the gap...chuck the rope back.” She laid out her plan plainly, though there was little confidence behind her words.

            “You sure you can make that?” Fred didn’t doubt his sister, he merely placed more stock in the apparent danger before them. If she couldn’t clear the gap she’d be carried away before they could do a thing to help her.

            “Of course I can, just need a run up.” She looked back at the sliver of safe ground they stood on, the rocky wall of the ravine boxing them in far more than she would have liked.

            “No you won’t, I’ll do it.” Maeve piped up and began to measure the gap in her mind.

            “Are you serious?” Hope’s face knotted; her sister had blindsided her. “You’re not the most active.”

            “Just because I haven’t touched gymnastics in years doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to jump.” Maeve didn’t appreciate the comment but wasn’t arguing who was the best at doing a somersault. “Listen I’m way taller than you, got longer legs, there’s no room at all to run up. I can do it, just let me do this.”

            Hope tussled with the idea for a moment. She’d felt cut off from her sister, Maeve having folded in on herself, though here on this journey that bond had begun to rekindle. Maeve recovering her confidence had a flip side however, it irked Hope when her sister would deign to boss her around. It irked her even more so that she was right. She relented, “If you fall in I’m never going to let you forget it.”

            Maeve smiled and tied her lengthy hair back, doing her best to look the part. “If I fall you’re coming in with me.”

            She backed up against the rocky cascade behind them and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the cacophony of the river she’d be leaping over any moment now. Pushing off the wall with one foot like an athlete she bounded as best she could. One step, two steps, three steps. Three steps were all this side of the ravine afforded her before the leap. With a momentous push she threw herself with all her might forwards. She’d affixed her gaze on the other side, on her landing, but as she flew into the air she found her eyes drawn to the waters below. They beckoned her to their inevitable depths, as if they were an eventuality she was hopeless to avoid. It was a void she couldn’t cross, the latest in a slew of hurdles in her life she was too afraid to even attempt. But here she was. What were you thinking!? Her crisis left her mind as quickly as it had entered however as she slammed onto the boulder’s face, back into reality. The impact shook her so hard she found herself falling backwards, slipping as she found nothing to grip on the water lashed face of the smooth rock. Reaching out in desperation she only just caught hold of that scraggly rope, she could barely see it but latched on tight as soon as it brushed her fingers.

            The others gasped, yelling out for her to hold on. She tried to brace against the beating river but rolled across the surface of the boulder uncontrollably, that rope tightly twisting around her arm with each spin. Eventually it wound so tight that it inadvertently gave her stability, she felt the blood trapped in her arm but decided to use the pain. She’d cleared this hurdle fair and square, I’m not going to fall. Feet now steady on the face of the rock, she used this new rigidity to gain traction, to begin climbing.

            The others had been so focused on Maeve that they missed what skulked above her, but Fred caught it as he looked to leap over himself. A rat, perhaps even the same rat, was clung to the base of the rope above. Its little claws dug into the twine, overgrown teeth gnashing profusely. He couldn’t quite believe his own eyes, was this nasty little creature really sabotaging them?

            “It’s trying to cut the rope...” He uttered in a daze, almost talking to himself.

            “What?” Hope asked, clueless of what he was on about. Amidst the bedlam and emotion, a single rat was practically invisible.

            “The rat! It’s trying to bite through the rope!” He blurted out and picked up a loose pebble, tossing it at the critter. It landed inches from it, but it paid no heed, gnawing away obsessively.

            A wave of dread washed over Hope, Maeve was fighting with everything she had but that might not be enough. “CLIMB FASTER MAEVE!” She yelled down to her, voice breaking with worry.

            Maeve responded in kind. Climbing a rope alone was a nightmare, every muscle ached with each pull, but she heard the panic in Hope’s voice. Something was wrong, she had to move faster. Fred tossed another rock, this time hitting his mark squarely on the head. The rat flipped violently from the rope, landing on its back, twitching as if in a seizure. Much to their dismay three more took its place, creeping forwards from unseen cracks and crooks. They resumed the efforts of their fallen fellow, chewing the now fraying rope like mischievous clockwork. Orson joined in the rock flinging, but the vermin continued to muster together on the rope, now a heap of writhing fur and teeth.

            “That’s it, I’m going over!” Hope decided she had to do something.

            Just like her sister she backed up and began to run, but a sharp sting in her ankle stopped her short. She winced and looked down only to see a shrew digging deep into the back of her foot. A knee jerk response saw her kick the critter clear across the ravine, but already there were dozens more at her feet. Fred and Orson fell back alongside her as a wave of rodents climbed the small outcrop they stood on like a rising flood. With a reflex the fearful Fred clambered up the sloping side of the ravine in a heartbeat, grabbing at the mess of rocks and roots packed amongst the earth as he searched for safe heights. Orson and Hope tried to follow but found themselves sliding back down, those same roots now pulling loose in their hands. Orson tumbled to the edge of the rock, Hope couldn’t see if he’d gone over or not before she was beset by their harassers. A wave of the mice furled up in front of her, hundreds of the rodents crawling over one another acting as some sort of collective mind.

            What now amounted to a maddening chorus of vindictive squeaking drowned out any other noise, even the frothing river couldn’t compete with the rats salivating chatter, but the snap of the rope cut through the deafening soundscape like a gunshot. The rope slipped from the countless toothy maws that severed it but fell no further than Maeve’s white knuckled fingers that now clung to the edge. She threw up another hand and dug her nails into the first shallow groove she could get purchase of.

The horrors that had been working against her were revealed when she heaved her top half onto the slab, several of them shifting from the rope to Maeve as soon as they saw her. One bit into her hand viciously, streams of her blood running from its mouth. She let out a howling scream, bewildered at how this delicate little field mouse could be so murderous. But by the time she’d planted her knees back on the level she couldn’t care less. She ripped the little terror from her hand and flung it wide with a writhing reflex. It was merely caught by the bed of rats that amassed around her however, adding to their encompassing numbers. She could barely see the others through the horde.

            “Hope, come up here!” Fred called down to his sister who was backed into a corner below him. He’d sprung away in a split second, paying no thought to who he might be leaving behind. Staring down at his sister now he felt a coward, perched up high without a hope to help her from this death by a thousand cuts. He knew he had to go to her, defend her, but his body was frozen, unresponsive.

            “I can’t! They’re all over-” Rat after rat crawled over Hope, leaping from the pest constructed wall that writhed in front. No matter how much she struggled she couldn’t shake their unending assault, hundreds of these things blotting out her very sight.

            Right then the encroaching form of the organic mass was cleaved apart, a hefty plank scattering the vermin to reveal Orson stood behind.

            “Go away!” He yelled as he swung the oversized chunk of driftwood.

            He could barely keep himself upright as he ploughed the stick through the swathes of rats, hurling them to the sky in their tens as it rained rodents around him. Wielding a plank that was practically as tall him was tiring and each patch he upheaved reformed before his eyes. He went to bury the plank deep into the amassing swarm but flinched as he noticed his arms were now covered in them. All sense of bravery in the moment slipped, along with his weapon, as he panicked at the realisation. Flailing blindly, he fell back into Hope, the two of them back on the floor and boxed in by the oppressive plague.

            Maeve couldn’t place a hand down without being nipped, she couldn’t move without these creatures shifting to block her way, now a narrowing whirlpool stretching far above her head.

            “Give up child.” A bodiless voice whispered from behind her.

            “Who is that?” Maeve shouted out into the pulsating waves of this horde around her, searching for some human source. “Why are you doing this!?”

            “You are the children we search for; we know it, we can smell it.” The voice came from another direction this time, still formless. “You carry great value for some.”

            “Who are you?” Maeve tried to understand her opponent, grasping in the dark. She knew she couldn’t run, not now. If only there were a way to bargain for her and the others safety, “We haven’t done a thing to you, let us go!”

            “Who we are is of no concern. It is you, the children of Pwyll, who matter.” Murmurs flitted from ear to ear, “You have fallen into our net, just like your elders.”

            “Our elders...” She no longer pleaded, just muttered to herself in doubt. Still the disembodied tormentor heard her every word, still it taunted her.

            “Yes, your mother, your father. They share your stench...” The voice boasted of its omnipotence now, but with boldness came individuality. Maeve began to single out the voice amongst the rabble, to one greying mouse. It snaked in circles around her, in its wake followed a far more rotund rodent like a doting retainer. “They fumble in the woods far from here but not beyond our reach, ignorantly laying hands on objects they don’t understand. Like yourselves, they are trapped, yet unfortunately for them their lives are not required.”

            Maeve couldn’t believe it; her parents had come after her. She knew they would, but never dreamed they could. And now they were at the mercy of this horde as well. Perhaps she should have felt helpless, but a sly hope welled inside her. She was almost certain she knew who was behind this. Every detail fell into place now, this must have been the doing of Llwyd ap Cil Coed, or some man knowledgeable in his ways. She’d read about this magic in the third branch of the Mabinogi many a time. An old adversary of Pwyll’s who couldn’t let an insult against a friend go, he sought to terrorizing his son, Pryderi. Llwyd ap Cil Coed cursed a mysterious bowl to trap any who laid fingers upon it and transformed himself and his attendants into a plague of mice to make the kingdom of Dyfed barren. Yet he was undone by one foolish mistake. One mistake it appeared whoever this was had not learnt from.

            She no longer cowered; head raised defiantly she studied their numbers. She picked out the grey source of the voice, and behind it the fat waddling furball. As if loaded on a piston she shoved her hand into the wall of rodents and yanked it out, the potbellied mouse bulging in her hand.

            “What do you think you’re doing!” That voice no longer hid itself. The grey mouse stood awkwardly on the head of its kin, their bodies forming a makeshift pedestal. Whether it was its change of tone or Maeve’s newfound upper hand, she no longer found it as intimidating.

            “You think you know me? You haven’t got a clue who I am, but I know exactly who you are!” She spoke aloud, all timidity gone from her voice. “Maybe you’re Cil Coed himself, maybe you’re his son, grandson? It doesn’t matter. You’re using the same old tricks, making the same old mistakes.”

            The rat made stand lurched forward with their leader on top, dozens of the creatures tumbling over each other. “Did I not tell you your family’s fate lies within my hands?”

            “You did, but then again so does yours...in my hands that is.” Maeve locked eyes with her tiny nemesis, malicious with intent. “After all this rat is your wife isn’t it, judging by her belly she’s pregnant too.”

            “You’re wrong...” Its voice was now meagre, desperate.

            “So, you wouldn’t mind if I...” Maeve tightened her grip around the bulbous critters neck, on its own in her grasp there was little it could do as it writhed in agony. The vermin stopped, the waves of their formations at a standstill. With that Maeve knew she was right, “Thought so.”

            “Please don’t...” The mouse at the head began to shift and warp, its fur receded into tattered robes and ghostly pale skin. Out of the miniscule body sprouted gangly limbs and a balding head replete with a bucktoothed mouth, eventually forming the body of an emaciated man. He had not bathed in months, his dagger like teeth were yellow and his body was filthy. Only the modest gold crown atop his head held some shine, though it sloped on his misshapen dome, clearly fitted for another. This bestial king now grovelled atop his transformed court; Maeve felt she looked at a man who had forgotten what it was to be human. His rat servants still held his weight though the pedestal squashed down to a depressed cushion. “Please,” he snorted, “she bears my heir.”

            “You’re just another bully that can’t let go of the past!” Maeve tried not to lose her composure, seeing this pathetic shadow of the Cil Coed family in front of her had her feeling nothing but pity. It was clear they’d lost their way, spending more time as mice than people. She didn’t doubt that their leader was just another mercenary sent by Gwydion either, but the last she’d encountered had murdered her grandfather. She wouldn’t back down. Her family was in danger. Merfyn would make a stand, Merfyn had made a stand. Her blood ran hot, she tightened her choke hold. “You’re so ignorant, so full of yourself, that you brought your pregnant wife with you!”

            “I beg of you!” The man fell to his knees in front of her, hands clasped in prayer to the one who held his future in the balance. “We act on the behalf of another, do not punish her!”

            Maeve stood tall, holding the helpless mouse at arm’s length. She felt like she held absolute power over this sorry clan of miscreants in this moment. “Then let us go. Free us, free my parents, let all of us go. Then run away far from here and never come back.”

            “What of Gwydion, this won’t sit well with him. He won’t forget, he won’t forgive this.”

            “Then run further.” Maeve didn’t flinch, even the writhing mouse in her grasp that made her insides quiver didn’t disturb her resolve. This sixteen-year-old girl had the entirety of Cil Coed’s men at her mercy, and she knew it.

            The sorcerer of Cil Coed watched his queen with bated breath, his thin lips twitched with nervous trepidation. He wanted to threaten Maeve, to brazenly dangle her parent’s fate in front of her, yet he couldn’t. With the slightest squeeze of her fingers he’d be returning to his destitute kingdom with no heir, no fortune, no food, no hope. Surely Gwydion could threaten no worse a fate, they’d may as well be rats forever more. He let out a defeated sigh, “Very well...I will release you and your family…you will never see us again…”

            As if watching the flooding of a valley in reverse the mice fled, vanishing into any crevices they could squeeze themselves through. Cil Coed morphed back into a speck of a mouse and folded back into the retreating horde. As quickly as they had emerged they were gone. Maeve could now see Hope and Orson on the other side, Fred clambering his way down.

            “Did we win?” Hope surveyed the breadth of the ravine, making sure they were alone. Perplexed, her eyes eventually fell on the last remaining mouse wriggling in her sister’s hand.

            Maeve had almost forgotten she still held her hostage. Satisfied that the king had left, she dropped the queen to the floor. The lump of a critter clumsily waddled off in a hurry after the rest of her people. “We won.”

*

Free of their pursuers the rest of their amble down this secluded ravine went on with relative ease. Maeve found more rope to throw their way, and after many deliberations on how safe her knot tying might be she allowed the others to cross. There was no way of knowing whether she’d saved her parents, but she clung to the hope she’d see them soon. No matter what though, she had afforded her siblings and cousin another day of freedom, just as they had done for her yesterday. If this was how difficult it was to simply be them in this Wales though, facing life and death every day, she wondered how long they might be able to keep going.

            “Thank you for the save.” Hope wanted to make sure Maeve knew she’d done well, that they all owed her.

            “Ah I guess it just makes us even.” Maeve managed a smile, perhaps the future was uncertain, but her encounter with Cil Coed had proven they weren’t helpless. Her knowledge did have value here.

            “I can’t believe Mum and Dad are here though...” She mused.

            “I wish we knew where they are.” Maeve looked out over the horizon, the coastline now in view. She could see the prominent walls of some far-off fort amidst the waves. Walls in the middle of the sea? It must be Cantre’r Gwaelod, she thought, we must be close. “Even if they came the same way we did...we’re miles away. And Llyn Llyw should be right around the corner.”

            “Hey, maybe the salmon can help us find them.” Hope’s eyes brimmed with that naive promise Maeve found so confounding. Perhaps she couldn’t fathom how she could remain so positive in a time like this, but she was glad she had someone who could.

            Behind them Orson followed dutifully, carefully applying his eighth plaster to one of the many nicks on his arms. Between them they’d almost finished his entire stock. He winced at the sight of the blood, but the dinosaur decorated dressings distracted him. More importantly they made him think of his mother, and how she’d fuss over any of his mishaps with these plasters. He wished she were here.

            “Stegosaurus.” Fred noted.

            “Huh?” Orson was taken by surprise by his cousin’s voice, he’d been in a world of his own.

            “It’s a stegosaurus on your plaster.” Fred explained but awkwardly paused afterwards.

            “Oh, I think I have one with a triceratops on...” He flipped his arms back and forth looking for what he’d stuck on already.

            Fred stammered but got out what he’d actually wanted to say, “Thanks...thanks for helping Hope back there.” He gulped, as if he felt ashamed. “What you did, it was really brave.”

            Orson didn’t quite know what to say. “I was just stuck with her too; you’ll have to teach me how to climb like you do.” As humbly as he recounted events it was obvious he felt a rush of pride, he’d never considered himself brave in the moment. Come to think of it he hadn’t given it much thought at all, he’d just done it.

            Fred on the other hand had done nothing but think, and it had stopped him in his tracks. Orson seemed clueless as to why Fred hadn’t come down, after all it had all happened so quickly. Regardless his cousin would never think so low of him. Fred left it at that, but what happened in the ravine stuck with him. Ate away at him. Perhaps no one else was aware of what had occurred, but deep down he knew. Dizzying heights and tricky climbs were second nature to him, but he was barely keeping his head above all the madness they kept encountering in this land. He wouldn’t dream of admitting it though.

            “I will...I will.” He promised.

            Left to themselves once more they ambled on, spirits high with the promise that this salmon might be their way out of this. Uneasy eyes still sought out any hint of a mouse here or a rat there, but none were seen. Perhaps more tellingly the countryside seemed to brim with life once more. As if morning had broken a second time, animals of the wild began to emerge from hiding. Deer, perhaps the very same herd, drank from the river that now flowed down the valley, parallel with the coast. Maeve wished that wherever the others might be, they might be enjoying the same serenity.