The proprietor said to me in a low voice, “If I can help him in any way—do you need shelter for the night? You need not pay for it.”
Lleu raised his head and answered for both of us, refusing the man’s offer with quiet finality. “Thank you, but no. I am very tired, and we have a long way to go.”
I loaded the blankets and satchels on my back, then drew Lleu’s cloak over his shoulders and fastened it for him. The man who held Lleu’s bow offered it up to me; Lleu stood before the little crowd and held out an open hand, his gaze demanding. I surrendered the bow to him.
The other patrons moved aside so that we had a clear path to the door. As Lleu passed by the thin, tired-looking woman, she took his hand and held it to her lips in formal respect. She said quietly, “God go with you, fair one.”
It cut at my heart mercilessly. What need had he to be any kind of warrior or administrator? He was instantly beloved of his people; all he must do is turn a somersault and pet a child, and he has won them to him body and soul.
“Why did you not accept that offer?” I asked him as we left the city, following the road uphill and northward.
“Because you are with me,” Lleu answered bitterly. He spoke as he walked, plowing through the snow with his head down, watching his feet. “Because they looked to you as my protector, my guide. You could see they thought me out of my senses; if I had fought to resist you they would have fought against me, and all with the best of intentions.”
“Perhaps.” I halted, and he turned to look at me. I said, “Here we leave the road.”
Lleu prsti" aligotested passionately, dreading to return to the forest and uninhabited moorland after the laughter and warmth of the town. “No! Why? Cross the moor yourself! I dare not depend on you to show me the way!”
“You no longer have the strength to take the road alone,” I said patiently. “This way is more direct, and will bring us to Camlan sooner.”
“Why would you want to get there sooner?”
“Like yourself, I am not in such matchless physical form,” I answered.
“True,” he sneered. “You’ve been nursing a raging fever since our first night in the open.” A breathless little laugh escaped him. “To think it is you who have taken chill, not I!”
“But I’m not hallucinating,” I said softly. “No matter which of us is in control when we reach Camlan, we both need to get there quickly.”
Lleu stormed reluctantly in my trail as we walked away from the road. We climbed through the bare forest, and covered several more miles. At dusk we were close to another stretch of empty hilltop, and we stopped among the trees to make camp: this time only a small fire, and the furs and blankets spread next to it. Lleu unpacked the little dried fruit and cheese that was left, and heated wine. At first he would not let me help, but in the midst of his preparations he gasped in wonder, “My hands are bleeding.” He held out a hand, palm up, gloveless. “Look: blood running between my fingers, staining my sleeve.”
I could scarcely bear to listen to him. “Put your gloves on,” I said. His sleeve was unspotted.
After that he let me deal with the food. He avoided touching anything lest it change shape before his eyes.
When we had eaten he took off his cloak and folded it double, and wrapped it around his shoulders that way beneath the blankets and furs in which he huddled. He was nearer the fire than I, yet he was still shivering. I could not imagine being so cold; I could not feel the cold even in my hands. I sang under my breath from the dark story of Lleu’s shining namesake:
“Grows an oak on upland plain,
Darkly shadowed sky and glen;
Nine score hardships had he suffered
In its top, Lleu Llaw Gyffes.”
“Ah, shut it,” Lleu said.
“Even now you remind me of your namesake,” I said gently. “You can no longer rely on the strength of your own body, the integrity of your own mind. Think of Lleu enchanted, imprisoned in another form! Think how it must be to look at your hands and see an eagle’s talons, clawed and cruel.”
Lleu interrupted with a wordless cry of horror. He slammed his hands over his ears and said furiously, “That tale ends with order restored and justice done. You know that. Lleu is rescued and healed; his lands are returned to him, and he is revenged.”
“And in truth, his punishment seems little worse than the visions you are enduring,” I said. I drank some of the wine without heating it, and rubbed a fistful of snow over my forehead. “What makes you shiver so?”
He stared at me with hatred and derision. He sat with his knees drawn up close to his chest, his gloved hands in tight fists beneath his chin. “Come,” I said, an1D; had held out an arm so that he might sit against my shoulder.
He muttered, “I don’t want your cold.”
“I offer you my warmth,” I said.
Reluctantly, resentfully, he curled himself into the hollow between my arm and chest. I murmured low,
“Grows an oak upon a steep,
The sanctuary of a fair lord;
If I speak not falsely,
Lleu will come into my lap.”
Lleu sighed and closed his eyes, but soon forced them open again, mistrusting me. He stared at the fire as it burned lower and lower.
But I was tired beyond endurance in my own right. Before long we were both dozing. I did not have the energy to struggle with Lleu, and let him sink into the deep, sound sleep of utter exhaustion. Finally I folded the blankets around us both and slept also.