They made their way through the winding forest path,
sometimes having to make large detours to get the carts around narrow passages.
Grainne was an excellent guide. She could see the path they must take long
before Gwilym knew why she was directing the horses there.
That night, after Grainne had cast her protection spells and
they had eaten their cold food, they lay together and both took grateful
pleasure in each other’s body. They snuggled together after, spooning their
bodies and murmuring soft words.
“What will we do if we come across bandits?” Gwilym asked.
“They won’t be so obvious to come galloping down the path after us. They use stealth
and will try to kill us before we even see them.”
“I’ll hear them first; you can depend on that. And I will
use the spell we always use against them. Have you never heard of ‘The Questing
Beast’?”
“Aye. King Pellinore’s quest. Few have ever seen it. It
makes the noise of a hundred dogs. You must be granted the quest or born to it
like Pellinore.”
Gwilym, who was stroking Grainne’s face, felt her smile as
she said, “Tomorrow you may meet the great beast.” She sighed and fell asleep.
Gwilym followed her soon after, wondering about her statement.
The next day, the boys were up and Gwilym watched them horsing
around outside the pavilion. Bleddyn was showing them tricks he had earlier
taught his twin brothers and they were all looking up at him with shining
faces. They lined up in turn to ‘walk up the tree’. Here Bleddyn would hold
their backs, supporting their weight, as they walked up the trunk of a tree and
then, while he grasped them by the shoulders and belts, they walked along the
underside of a large bough. They squealed in delight, asking for turn after
turn until Bleddyn was exhausted.
Gwilym sliced some bread and mushrooms to make breakfast for
the family. Bleddyn switched to another trick. He demonstrated first on Llawen,
then the others lined up to try it. He would stand behind them while they stood
with spread legs and their hands touching the ground in between their feet.
Bleddyn would reach down and grasp their hands, then with a mighty heave, lift
up. The boys’ bodies would do a complete flip and land back on their feet. As
Gwilym called them for breakfast, he smiled in remembrance of when he used to
do that with Bleddyn.
The boys ate and packed up the carts again, saving the
sleeping Grainne for last. Gwilym carried her to the cart and lifted her into
the seat. Mumbling protests, she took the reins and off they went, into the
forest. As he thought about this he realized he was wrong. He turned and
shouted to his boys, “How far can a dog run into a forest?”
Bleddyn and the twins groaned but Madoc looked confused and
asked Bleddyn what his father meant. “Da always asks us questions to make us
think. They’re usually stupid jokes that play on words. Try to answer.”
“A mile!” said Madoc.
“Forty miles!” tried Bleddyn.
“Depends on the size of the forest!” said Jac.
“You’re getting closer!” said Gwilym.
The boys thought about it for a while, tried some more
guesses then gave up and begged for the answer.
“Halfway!” replied Gwilym to the boys’ astonished faces.
“After that, he’s running out of the forest!”
“Ohh!” said Llawen. The rest of them groaned. Gwilym laughed
and then felt an acorn hit him in the back of the head, followed by the raucous
laughter of the boys in the cart behind.
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