Free A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeleine L'Engle Page A

might become king?”
    “Yes, but Gwydyr and I were the youngest. The throne was not likely to be ours while the other five remained alive.”
    “Yet you, Madoc, the seventh son, were the favored of the people.”
    “Had I let them proclaim me king, there would have been no way to avoid bloodshed. I left Gwynedd to prevent the horror of brother against brother.”
    “Have you”—the old man regarded Madoc keenly—“in fact left it?”
    “I have left it. Gwynedd in Cymru is behind me. It will be ruled by whomever the gods choose. I do not wish to know. For now I am Madoc, son-to-be of Reschal, soon to be husband of Zyll of the People of the Wind.”
    “And Gwydyr? Have you let him go?”
    Madoc gazed across the lake. “In many ways it seemed that I was older than he, though there were seven years between us. When we came to the tribe on the Far Side of the Lake he was afraid of their dark skins and hair and their strange singing that was full of hoots and howls, and he ran from them. They kept me as guest, yet I was a prisoner, for they would not let me go into the forest to look for my brother. They sent a party of warriors to search for him, and when they returned they carried only the belt with the jeweled buckle which marked him as the son of a king. They told me he had been killed by asnake; Gwydyr did not know what a snake is, for we have none in Gwynedd. They told me that he had called my name before he died, and that he had left me the Song of the King’s Sons. And they buried him out in the forest. Without me, they buried my brother, and I do not even know the place where he is laid.”
    “That is the way of the People on the Far Side of the Lake,” the old man said. “They fear the dead and try to escape the ancient terror.”
    “The ancient terror?”
    Reschal looked at the tender sky of early morning. “That which went wrong. Once there were no evil spirits to blight the crops, to bring drought or flood. Once there was nothing to fear, not even death.”
    “And what happened to bring fear?”
    “Who knows? It was so long ago. But is it not in Gwynedd, too?”
    “It is in Gwynedd,” Madoc replied soberly, “or brother would not have turned against brother. Yes, we too know what you call the ancient terror. Death, it is thought, or at least the fear of death, came with it. Reschal, I would that I knew where those across the lake had laid my brother, that I may say the prayers that will free his soul.”
    “It is their way to put the dead far from them and then to lose the place. They hide the dead, even from themselves, that their spirits may not come to the lake and keep the fish away.”
    “And your people?”
    The old man pulled himself up proudly. “We do not fear the spirits of our dead. When there has been love during life, why should that change after death? When one of us departs we have a feast of honor, and then we send the spirit to its journey among the stars. On clear nights we feel the singing of their love. Did you not feel it last night?”
    “I watched the stars—and I felt that they accepted me.”
    “And your brother? Did you feel his light?”
    Madoc shook his head. “Perhaps if I could have found the place where they buried him …”
    “You must let him go. For the sake of Zyll you must let him go.”
    “
When will come the Old Man’s daughter?
” Madoc asked. “I felt the People on the Far Side of the Lake to try to find my brother’s grave, and in the forest I was quickly lost. For days I wandered, trying to make my way back, straying farther and farther from them. I was nearly dead when Zyll came hunting the healing herbs which are found only in the deepest part of the forest.
When will come the Old Man’s daughter? Where is found the heart’s desire?
Here, Reschal.”
    “You will let Gwydyr go to his place among the stars?”
    “
Does it call for tears or mirth? Shall we sing for death or birth?
” Madoc sang softly. “I have shed my tears for the