“ ‘I am listening,’ said Pwyll.

“ ‘Then allow me to sue for peace,’ said Gwawl. ‘State your terms and I will agree.’

“ ‘Very well, pledge to me that there shall never be redress nor vengeance for what has befallen you and your punishment shall end.’

“ ‘You have my pledge,’ said the man in the bag.

“ ‘I accept it,’ replied Pwyll and called to his men, ‘Let him out.’

‘ ‘Thereupon Gwawl was released from the bag and he departed to his own realm. The hall was then prepared for Pwyll as before, and they all sat down to a wonderful wedding feast. They ate and reveled, and when it came time to go to sleep Pwyll and Rhiannon went to the bridal bed and spent the night in pleasure and contentment.

“The next morning they returned to Caer Narberth where the feast continued for seven days with the best men and women in all the realm in attendance. And no one went away from the feast without being given some special gift, either a brooch or a ring or a precious stone.

“So began the reign of Pwyll Pen Annwfn and Rhiannon, fairest of the fair, and so ends this branch of the Mabinogi.”

The last notes of the harp died away on the night air, and the bard bowed his head. The fires had dwindled and the torches burned low. Many people had wrapped themselves in skins and slept in their places, or had stretched out by the fire.

“Well spoken, Hafgan,” said Gwyddno, gazing sleepily at the huddled forms around him. “You are the best of bards. But no more tonight. Let us take our rest now, for the feast continues and we will hear another tale tomorrow night.”

With that, Gwyddno wrapped himself in a skin, curled up by the fire, and went to sleep. Elphin and Rhonwyn rose from the table and, gathering their fawn skins, slipped quietly away to Gwyddno’s house where they lay down together on a bed of clean rushes and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

“It is late and we must travel early,” said seithenin, his voice echoing slightly in the near-empty chamber. Heavy Cyprus beams arched into the darkness overhead; the richly enameled walls glimmered in the light of brass hanging lamps, making the room appear filled with restless shadows. “Tell us what your divining has revealed.” The three Magi stood before the king, dressed in the billowy vestments of their office: a long white alb cinched with a braided silver Belt and covered by a sea-green chasuble edged in silver threadwork. Tall white cylinder-shaped hats covered their shaven heads. They raised their hands in the sign of the sun, thin smiles on their long faces. Avallach sat in a chair beside Seithenin; Annubi stood behind his master, hands resting on the back of the chair, eyes narrowed.

“Sire,” said the foremost Mage, “after reading the required texts in the temple, we have consulted among ourselves and find this to be a most favorable sign-an omen of great virtue, signaling prosperity and ascendancy for all who witnessed it.”

“Explain,” said Seithenin. “I want to understand its significance more fully.”

“As you will, Highness,” replied the Mage with a sour smile. “It is our opinion that the starfall represents the seed of heaven wherewith Cronus has impregnated Oceanus. The result will be the birth of a new age in which the Nine Kingdoms will rise to lead the world in grace and wisdom and power.”

“So be it,” replied the other Magi, bowing, cylindrical hats bobbing once and again.

“When will this take place?” asked Seithenin.

“Soon, Highness. As in a human birth there will be accompanying signs by which we shall be able to tell more precisely the moment of its coming. And then we shall announce the birth to the people.”

Seithenin glanced at Avallach and said, “Please, speak if you have a mind to. I see that you are displeased.”

“You are perceptive, Seithenin,” Avallach replied. “I am displeased, it is true. And the reason is this: I am persuaded that the sign portends nothing half so pleasant as we have heard from these learned men. It is, rather, an omen of most dire circumstance.” He challenged the Magi directly. “What do you say to that?”

The Magi bristled at this affront to their art, puffing out their cheeks. “What would be the source of your information?” asked the foremost Mage, glancing at Annubi. The sneer in his voice was subtle.

Avallach glared but did not rise to the insult. “I am waiting for your answer.”

The three put their heads together and mumbled the matter over to themselves. At length they turned and their leader replied, “It is difficult, Sire, to explain to one untrained in the prophetic arts.”

“Try me. I think you will find me most astute,” Avallach said. “At least, I will not be dissuaded so easily.”

The Mage mouthed a silent oath but launched into his explanation. “It is recognized among the wise that of al! signs of earth and sky, the omens of stars are most potent. We know that the heavenly houses through which the stars move in their courses”

“Yes, yes,” said Avallach impatiently. “Get on with it. I am not stupid.”

“To put it simply, the heavens may be said to represent that perfect order toward which all things on earth tend. Thus, as the stars fell from the House of Opportunity, passing through the House of Kings, we should expect to see in creased fortune-especially for those of royal birth. When kings prosper, it follows that their kingdoms prosper. Starfalls are always highly propitious. There are precedents in the sacred texts-too numerous to mention, unfortunately-which

bear out our opinion.” The Mage spread his hands to show that any right-thinking man would find this explanation satisfactory, if not self-evident.

Avallach was not so quickly convinced. “It is” also true, is it not, that the sign for opportunity has a twin?”

The Mage appeared surprised. “Why, yes, of course. Many signs have paired interpretations.”

“And is it not true that the twin of opportunity is danger?”

“This is true.”

“In fact, is it not true that the sign for danger and opportunity are exactly the same?”

“They are twins, Sire. Yes.”

“Not twins,” Avallach insisted. “The same sign.”

“It is so,” allowed the Mage cautiously. “But the sacred texts are clear: this is to be regarded as propitious manifestation.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it always is.”

“You mean because nothing evil has ever issued from such an omen.”

“Precisely,” replied the Mage. His colleagues nodded in smug self-assurance.

“I have always thought it unwise to Believe something will not happen simply because it has never happened before. Does nothing ever occur for the first time?”

The Mage sputtered and appealed to Seithenin for help. “Sire, if you are displeased with our service, please send us away. But I assure you we have studied this matter most completely and carefully.”

Seithenin raised a hand soothingly. ‘ Tor my part, I am not displeased. But perhaps you will wish to look into the question Avallach has introduced, eh? Further inquiry would do no harm.”

“As you wish,” said the Mage. All three turned as one and walked from the chamber, the air crackling with their resentment.

When they had gone, Seithenin turned to Avallach and said, “What you say has merit, certainly. But I am content. I see no reason to dispute the wisdom of the Magi in this matter.”

“I am of a different mind and will remain vigilant.”

“If you are troubled, that is no doubt best. But,” said Seithenin, slapping the arms of his chair and rising, “we travel tomorrow, and we both have wives waiting. Let us retire to more pleasant pursuits.” He moved toward the door.

“I will follow directly,” said Avallach. “Good night.” Seithenm closed the door, and the sound of his footsteps receded in the hall.