Days of the Dead Book 3: The King's Ghost

Chapter 10: Apology tour

Gideon
Oisin and I make it back to the hotel not long before Dancer and Sadie arrive. I've pretty much recovered from the spell and with the other two there, I tell Oisin he can go I'm not going to keep him any longer. He rolls his eyes and stays.
And I fill him and the others in on the events of the day, what I found out about Kit, and his behavior when we were alone. We do this over take out. Oisin isn't used to 21st century food so we get fried fish and potatoes which is universal, and hole up in the room with the heat on, eating greasy food, and watching Kit sleep on the carpet in the corner where we threw him.
"So, in summary, the good news is Kit is apparently so easy to distract. Bad news is, he's sexually predatory and doesn't seem to be interested in a redemption arc," I say, as I sit on my and Dancer's bed, with Oisin who thinks it's his god-given right to use me as a pillow. Our legs are intertwined and he's just leaning on me. I like this because I love cuddles.
"So we are keeping him here because—-?" Dancer asks.
"No where else to put him," Sadie points out.
"I realize it's not a good idea, but until King Henry's army wants to help me face him, it's probably best to keep him here, let him wake up and be distracted, when he gets too murderous Oisin and I keep him well out, so long as you're not busy, eh?" I ask, tugging on one of Oisin's braids.
"No, I am not too busy to help you with the actual murderer. He is strong, we don't know what he even is?" Oisin asks.
"We don't, I mean he's a wizard like us but," I shrug.
"Yeah but he's got some—unlimited power," Sadie says, shrugging, "Thing going on."
"I can only assume the Tomb is giving him the strength because you know, he's supposed to be on a quest to kill King Henry. He's either completely playing me, or he's basically forgotten all about that, by the way," I say, wiping my fries in tarter sauce.
"I think he's that stupid. From my brief observations tonight, definitely that stupid," Oisin says.
"Still, let's not under estimate him," Sadie says, "Are we going back to England, then?"
"We can, we saw his mother and we've got him on this side of the pond. Well, you two can. Meet us in Wales, no way we're getting him on a plane and let's face it there's lots more space in America to have an ultimate wizard punch up," I point out.
"I'll stay with him here," Oisin nods, "We can use magic to return."
"Yeah, our amulets manipulate, total disclosure I am not getting on a plane again, I'll magic myself home when I'm not gonna need energy it's fine," I say.
"Fair enough," Sadie says.
"I don't like this, he's dangerous," Dancer says, "And now you're waiting on King Henry to get rid of him. Relying on King Henry is not ever a good plan."
"No, but at least I'm using his army to wear Kit out, rather than ours. And let's face it, he's set on killing me as well," I sigh.
"We don't know why?" Sadie asks.
"Trophy, happened to me and my father all the time. It's fine," Oisin says, patting my hip, like he's entirely fine with the situation. That's true. He's been hunted by demons before, turned into forest creatures, whole nine yards. Literally nothing surprises him. It's great, makes him a great friend. Also, great boyfriend because nothing stupid I do is stupider than something he or his father has been involved in.
"Doesn't sound fine," Dancer says.
"Seriously, we're doing our best here," I say, "If someone has a better plan I'm open. But we need to handle him."
"No, nothing better," Sadie sighs.
"How was everyone back at Harlech?" I ask.
"Mad at you," Dancer says.
"Worried about this, like we are. Want you to turn up, soon," Sadie says.
"Ah," I say, wincing a little.
"Go see the wains, I'll watch CreepyMacAssualt here," Oisin says, leaning against me though and showing no sign of moving. 'Wain' is an Irish word for 'child' but it's like affectionate so like 'little ones' or something of that kind. In England we kind of say 'younguns' that's regional though. But you would call your own children 'wains' even when they were teenagers, similar to the 'kids' in America, but a bit more affectionate. I'm fond of dialects and the like even if I'm not great at them, and to make things more confusing I pick up Irish turns of phrase from Oisin, plus Welsh ones in Wales, then I try to communicate in any century in London and get stared at.  Anyway, Oisin has been hanging out with them until now because I asked him to stay over at Harlech while I'm handling the usual amount of chaos in England.
"Yeah, I probably should check on the chaotic trio and go do an apology tour in Wales," I sigh.
"Yeah, you should," Sadie says, "He's contained here. We all know you have the magic to manage it. It's fine."
"We worry because we care about you so let us worry a bit? It makes us feel better," Dancer says, "There, ten thousand pounds for therapy last year alone didn't go to waste."
"I will, everyone still at Harlech?" I ask.
"Yeah, we leave for Conwy at dawn. Which means that you and I should be on a red-eye so we can go back, from England, to travel with them," Sadie says, "I can't figure out time differences just now but that should work."
"Aye, I'll drive you to the airport," Oisin who cannot drive says. Okay, I showed him how once. That doesn't make him good at it.
"No," Dancer and Sadie say in unison.
"They'll get an Uber," I say.
"Don't worry about it," Sadie says.
"We can't leave Kit," I say.
"I really just don't trust your driving and I don't care about your feelings," Dancer of course.
"I am excellent at it. Also, I have magic I can avoid collisions," Oisin says, like that's a good method of driving. I don't know why I say that like that that's my method of driving.
Dancer and Sadie pack up and say their goodbyes. I promise to see them in Wales soon. Oisin and Dancer, like, nearly hit each other trying to shake hands. I haven't figured out if Dancer is mean to Oisin as a bonding thing or he's just being mean. Oisin said he doesn't care so I've decided to leave it.
"I'll be fine, he's well out, go," Oisin encourages.
"I'll spend the night here," I say, nodding.
"Good," he says, putting a hand through my hair, "Be easy on yourself. That spell is hard."
"I know. I feel fine though, really," I say.
"Come here. Take care of Gideon tonight, all right?" He asks, giving me a fierce hug. I accept, see previous notes about always needing more hugs.
I consider returning to Harlech first, but elect not to. For one thing I want more time with them, for another Myrddin will have just gotten to sleep might as well wait till he's waking up and wanting to play and then I get to hold the baby while I explain my lack of reasoning to my best friends.
I return to Pleasance. It's been a minute, and I actually have an update now. So I was sort of expecting them to have progressed as people.
They have not.
I find our heroes assembled in the dinner hall, clearly finishing dinner.
Prince Harry doesn't appear to have gone insane yet, that's nice. He's wearing all black still and tugging on his hair, alternately sipping wine and feeding the dogs pieces of his dinner.
Courtenay is looking lovely as ever. Just a healthy priestly glow, while he looks down at some sort of ledger, his dark hair hanging partly in his face.
King Henry is at the head of the table, and appears to have set a new personal record for how short a time he could stand maintaining facial hair before remembering he can't stand maintaining facial hair. Because he's now clean shaven, stately as ever even wearing just a dark red shirt. His hair, though silvered now with age, is thick and curly, and though his face is lined from years in the sun, his skin is ruddy and healthy, the few days of actual rest have done him some good, as opposed to endless weeks on campaign.
King Henry is predictably still talking, at the moment it appears to be explaining the origins of and potential value of  jewels that he's finessed from various countries, and is now hiding here. 
"This has two loans out against it, one from a lender in Scotland, one in Paris. So you can get another loan in London as well, there is a list of lenders the Archbishop is writing up," King Henry says, holding up a necklace, a woman's, with pearls and emeralds. I've seen Queen Catherine wear it.
"Isn't that my mother's?" Prince Harry, face in one hand, with no emotion, so sick of his father.
"Yes," King Henry says, genuinely confused. Five will get you ten he's not remembering his wife is dead.
"So you're pawning my mother's jewelry before she's cold in her grave?" Prince Harry asks, "To buy a cannon?"
"More than one cannon, actually, as well as arrows—and this was pawned well before she—left us," King Henry says, still holding it up, "Also, it belongs to me."
"You gave it to her."
"And she is —was—my wife ergo it continued to belong to me," King Henry says, "Why do you care? You can sell it."
"What if when I take a wife I want to give it to her? I can't if there are loans on it," Prince Harry, innocently, head on chin, but like he already regrets asking.
"You're going to take a wife?" King Henry, lightly judgmental.
"A woman?" Courtenay, much less gentle.
"Well, yes, not soon, but I suppose I must someday, eventually. And I'd like to have a friend," Prince Harry says, softly.
"That's nice. I will recommend an eligible woman. I have a list of ones that won't be able to hurt you. It's not long. But you might not want to give her this, or this, if you did that," King Henry says, picking up another necklace. To be clear, he knows I'm here he just is fine keeping me waiting and arguing with his kid and I am entertained completely, so I'm not gonna protest.
"Why not? They're nice, and my mother had them," Prince Harry says, frowning a little.
"Because the stones aren't real, in either of these, they've been switched for much less expensive versions," King Henry says.
"Switched by whom?" Prince Harry, genuinely horrified they've been burgled when there's a 0% chance that his dads didn't do it.
"Me, well not personally. This was when you were in the cradle, I was paying off my father's debts," King Henry says, dismissively, "But the point of it is a trained eye will notice that's why for future loans you must go carefully—,"
"Did mother know you sold her jewels?"
"Yes. I told her. She said she was no longer surprised," King Henry says.
"You told her after she noticed," Courtenay mutters.
"Which means I told her," King Henry says, glaring at him.
"After she blamed me and tried to have me arrested and then you told her you had me do it," Courtenay goes on, not even looking up.
"He didn't need the whole story," King Henry, still glaring at him.
"Felt more complete," Courtenay says, primly, still writing.
"Seven years."
"Are you going to use that to win arguments from now on?"
"Hm, Yes. Moving on," King Henry says, taking a bite of whatever they're eating looks like fish, and then giving the rest to a big dark mastiff that is leaning against him loyally. It half crawls in his lap and he doesn't stop it. "This one is—stop eating your own hand over there, Saint, get in here, if it's something important."
"Nothing major. Kit is in my custody and that situation is being handled, but some urgency to getting the battle ready might be appropriate," I say, coming in and bowing appropriately.
"How is he in your custody?" Courtenay asks.
"Sleep spell," I say, "Oisin's helping me, so we should be grand while you get something ready for our little pageant. Kit is proving highly distractible."
"Don't underestimate him," King Henry says, just feeding the dog bits of fish from his plate as it half lays in his lap. He's not a small man, but it's a huge dog, so that's not completely failing, but it's also not working.
"I won't, my lord," I nod, "I just came to see how things were going."
"We leave at dawn," Courtenay says.
"Yes, yes, don't worry. We'll be ready, in a few days time," King Henry says, idly, petting the dog.
Prince Harry looks up, hand on his face. His eyes are bloodshot. I doubt if he's been sleeping.
"Is that Clover?" Harry asks, pointing at the dog.
"I've no idea who you mean—,"
"Who you call Sparta?" Harry asks, in disbelief and disappointment. Bit of backstory, the kids name the dogs one thing, King Henry names the dogs, namely his war dogs, another thing. Because he's very mature. Yes, I've witnessed this forty something year old man tell his actual six year old not to name her dog
Cuddles because it's not a good name for a dog. In King Henry's defense he is very good at naming things. In his condemnation the child was six like, he seriously did not have to say that. Anyway, this has resulted in the kids calling the dogs whatever and him calling the dogs whatever.
"Yes, why?" King Henry asks, innocently which means he's guilty of something.
"Father, you told us he'd died last winter!" Harry, so disappointed in his father.
"Well, I thought he was going to," King Henry says, indignantly.
"What—you thought the dog was going to die, so you told us he was dead, and moved him to another house?" Harry asks, "Why? Edmund and Kate were so upset—,"
"Precisely. So I got it over with and let you mourn in peace and as it happens the dog lived longer than expected," King Henry says, "That way you got the story of the dog's death on my terms."
"You take away old pets and say they're dead. To get the jump on my mother because ONCE she told me you'd killed an old hunting dog and I cried for two days?"
"No. I don't do this personally. I have people do it. I'm usually on campaign. And that was not even true, I did not kill that dog. I had Tudor do it, because it was ill," King Henry says, with absolutely no shame, continuing to feed his not dead dog.
Prince Harry puts his face in his hands and starts praying. I have no clue why, after this week alone, he thinks his mom is dead, like really. His father has clearly lied about everything else, ever.
"Is this how productive you've been all week?" I ask, gesturing generally to how off topic we are.
"Yes," Courtenay says, immediately, and both Henrys glare at him.
"Okay, I can communicate with you again—and I have an idea," Prince Harry says, looking back at his father.
"Go on," King Henry says.
"After you 'die'. I go quiet and I don't eat.  And I never do anything with numbers again. And I become deeply spiritual. And I pray for hours everyday. And I try to perform miracles, and this will all be very distracting and nobody will ask about the finances ever and hopefully then I'll just die of starvation, if we're lucky," Prince Harry nods.
"We're nearly done."
"You said that ten hours ago."
"Nearly is relative."
"How many more hours to go?"
"I've not timed it. Anyway the next item is—is there a reason you're still here, Saint?"
"I know 'entertainment' isn't gonna be a valid answer so, no not really. No reason. I've got Kit, he only partially remembers he's coming this direction, should be easy to misdirect," I say, shrugging, "Also, we were sick of him talking and so he's asleep at the moment. Oisin helped me knock him out again, yeah Oisin's involved now."
"Ah. Yes. The Irish wizard who tried to kill us," Courtenay says, pleasantly.
"You were threatening his homeland first which is significant. Also, it's not like anybody died. At this point I just meet people by them trying to kill me first like I've found most of my friends that way," I say. King Henry kind of nods like that makes perfect sense.
"Gideon, if I lose my mind, will you order Tudor to take me out behind Windsor and snap my neck like he apparently has all of my favorite dogs?" Prince Harry asks.
"Some of your favorite dogs are here," King Henry says, like genuinely not understanding why he's so mad.
"Absolutely not, we love our Prince, mind or no," I say, smiling a little, "If you go mad we'll say you're having prophetic visions and will be back shortly. And we'll let you lie on the grass and pet the dogs and we'll read to you from scripture and bring you tea and honey cakes."
"Good answer," King Henry snarls, "Now, don't you have a prisoner to mind?"
"Yes of course," I'm going to go check on my kids.
When return to Harlech I find it busy despite the late hour. Of course everyone is going to depart come morning. King Henry is going to be pissed I told them to do that; well he can be. He's the one appropriating Harlech for his death pageant anyway.
"Gideon!!!" Lowri appears from nowhere to run and launch herself into my arms.
"Hmm, Oisin says you've been having fun yeah?" I ask, hugging her tightly.
"You're going to war without me," she says, glaring a little, Fae blue eyes flashing.
"We'll have wars together yet. Also this is a fake war, as Dancer and Sadie probably told you. You going to be good for Sadie while I do this? Help her out taking care of everyone?" I ask, walking down the hall. I magicked myself to one of the upper halls but I'm not very near the royal suites.
"I'd sooner be helping you," she frowns.
"I know, but your day for battles will come. Right now you can do an important job by keeping yourself safe. You are the future of Wales, you and your brother, all right? That is your task today," I say. I plagiarized that speech from a friend of mine but it worked for him. I am not great at child care.
"Yes, Gideon," she sighs.
"We will have many adventures, I promise. But this wizard is very dangerous, and he wants to hurt me. So my family is the first people he will threaten, so I need you to stay safe, all right?" I ask.
"All right. It'll be boring though, my father says he's staying behind."
"Yeah, I'm talking to him about that," I sigh.
We find Elis in his sitting room, alone because Dancer isn't home yet, staring out the window. As always he's dressed like a colorblind gay dog picked out his clothes, which is to say they're expensive but completely hideous.
"You," he points at me with mock accusation.
"You would be worried about me if I hadn't done something stupid by now," I say, setting Lowri down to run to him.
"That is true, but I won't admit it. Sadie and Dancer told us what are you doing," he says, glaring at me little, while Lowri comes to hang on his hands.
"He says I can't help," Lowri sighs.
"That's absolutely right you cannot," he says.
"Look, Kit is back, and for whatever reason you were right. He wants to kill me for—glory or reputation, I guess. So, he's set on killing me and he's been told to kill King Henry, which may succeed to be honest but somehow I need to stop Kit once and for all, and I don't know how to do that yet but I'd sooner do it with King Henry's army," I say, leaning in the doorway.
"He's requested bow support for Harlech, nothing else. He's bringing his own infantry. I sent messages informing him I'll remain," Elis says, coolly.
"I was not intending for you to do that," I sigh.
"I know. But I will not abandon my bowmen. Naturally, Gareth citing pride and several other things I don't pretend to understand, is refusing to evacuate with the others and is staying with the longbow line, and I will stay here as they are my men and it is my castle," Elis says, coolly, "And you are my wizard. He requisition you all he likes you are still a knight of Cambia and under my command."
I smile, "I've never wanted to be anything else."
"Good," he says, continuing to hug Lowri who is leaning on him, "Jac is going to go with my wife and the children to Conwy, where they'll be safe if King Henry and his cannons figure they might as well knock down a few Welsh castles while they're here."
"Oh, I'll try to destroy some of those in the cross fire."
"That's really all I ask. He has like seven—,"
"I've been watching him go over his books and now it's fourteen, five more are in France and Castile."
"Sweet Jesus. Anyway, I informed him that I was staying with the longbow line and I'm making him bring us arrows because yesterday I told Jac to lose all of our arrows," Elis says, with no shame.
"Good, that's good training for him. Our plan right now—which we're not taking constructive criticism on because Courtenay and I hate it—is we allow Kit to besiege Harlech with his fun little ghost army. I and Courtenay fight Kit, unsuccessfully, allowing it to appear that King Henry has died, in order to convince to Kit to leave so he's done his job. However Kit has been extremely homicidal of late so you know I may just have to kill him, I don't know," I say, shrugging.
"Can't you?" Elis asks.
"I don't know. I haven't managed to yet and something with the tomb—it ties him somehow," I shake my head.
"That's, odd. What are you going to do when King Henry doesn't die, or whatever? Just after a couple of weeks go 'our mistake the most recognizable person in Europe is still alive', and hope Kit doesn't come crawling back?" Elis asks.
"You know it may not even work—,"
"Gideon."
"And it's all conjecture the plan is fluid—,"
"Gideon—,"
"Listen, you are so much happier not knowing—,"
"Gideon—,"
"You're going to sleep better I promise—,"
"Gideon."
"He's resurrecting himself as a Christ figure and going to take Jerusalem there are you happy?" I sigh.
"Jesus Christ."
"Okay, but consider it could be worse," I say, holding up my hands.
"Worse than the worst person the world has ever known pretending to rise from the dead and starting another war?" Elis chokes.
"He could be staying on this land mass, he's not. He's going to another one. He's Europe's problem now," I point out.
"That's good. That's almost making me feel better. No, wait, you said that when you helped him get to Portugal and he didn't even stay there!"
"I know, I know, but he only came back because his wife supposedly died and then this happened," I say, holding up my hands, "I'm impressing that he probably shouldn't come back for a long time this time."
"What makes you think that will work? Isn't he angry?"
"No, he thinks it's nice people suggest he spend as much time killing people in Europe as he likes that's what he wants to do with this time. I or Courtenay says 'you should just stay in Europe waging war' and he's like 'yeah you're right I deserve it, treat myself,', and then we go on it's fine, completely, also it may not work he may die," I shrug.
"We're all going to die," Elis says.
"Well, then a lot more than a continent will be separating us from King Henry," I scoff.
"You think he's going to hell?" Elis asks. Catholicism what it is, these guys genuinely think god's gonna forgive Henry for everything he's ever done so long as he says 'sorry for all the homicide' at the last minute. I don't know how much you know about Catholicism, but that is how it works.
"I have met God, and she's definitely putting him somewhere he won't escape from," I say, nodding.
"Well, that's a comfort. All right, I won't keep you," he says, putting a hand through his hair, "The girls are going to be cross I kept you this long and they'll want a full play by play you know."
"Where are they?"
"Nursery. I'll join you by and by," he says, looking knowingly at Lowri who clearly has no intention of going to bed anytime soon.
I give Lowri another hug before making my way to the nursery. The halls are busy as the castle staff prepare for the move in the morning, and probably hide most of our personal possessions since King Henry and his occupying force will be here before long.
I find Sadie and Rhiannon in the nursery, lying on the rug encouraging Myrddin to crawl and toddle. This is not working he's lying in the middle of the rug playing with his toys.
"Hello you," I say, when he grins upon seeing me, holding out chubby baby hands.
"You look slightly worse the wear," Sadie frowns.
"Bruises just coming up, I'm fine," I say, sitting down on the rug with them.
"I've been brought up to speed, but I think I'm obligated to say something like 'oh god Gideon, seriously'," Rhiannon says, pushing my foot with hers.
"Yeah, something like that," I grin a little, "In all seriousness this is the best course of action. Kit is completely convinced he should get to kill me. I wouldn't even risk coming here right now except Oisin's watching him."
Myrddin tries to crawl across the rug to me. I hold out my hands and he grins, using magic to tug on my sleeves.
"Well, why don't you just kill him then?" Rhiannon asks. "Surely between and Oisin and Sadie, the three of you could do it."
"I don't actually know if we can. He's so tied to the tomb, that I'm not sure if we can actually end him. Our best bet is to convince him he's killed King Henry so he'll go back to sleep, or whatever," I say, reaching out and picking up Myrddin which is what he wanted. I set him on my stomach and he proceeds to happily pat my chest, lightly zapping me with magic. He can feel the magic in me too, so it's entertaining for him.
"How likely are we to be able to convince him he's killed King Henry?" Sadie asks.
"Oh, actually very. Kit is evil, he's not, strictly, ah, smart."
"Could that be an act though?" Rhiannon asks.
"No. I do not think you could pretend to be this dumb," I say, "However, we're unfortunately going to find out. We'll turn him loose here soon when he wakes up, which means I won't be coming back anytime soon I'm afraid. I'm not about to risk any of you in his pointless vendetta against me."
"Just be careful," Rhiannon sighs, hand on her belly.
"I'm coming home. I'm pretty good at it," I say, smiling as Myrddin shifts to pat my face. "Who's going to teach you evil little spells to use on people who insult your daddy's fashion choices, yeah?"
"I forgot I'm mad at you, quit enabling Lowri!" Rhiannon says, pushing her feet against mine.
"No, I shan't, it's funny," I laugh.
"You staying here?" Sadie asks.
"No, also how'd you get here so fast? You've barely landed in Heathrow by now," I frown.
"No, we got laid over at LaGuardia for seven hours. It was too late for Dancer someone had to watch our bags," Sadie says.
"Poor Dancer," I laugh.
"He's a trust fund baby; he can find a club to wait it out in he'll be fine. No, I didn't tell him I was going to do this he'd have made me take him with me and I don't want to lose my bag. He'll eventually realize I'm not coming out of the bathroom anytime soon," Sadie says.
I laugh. He's gonna be really mad.
"Just go back in the morning," Rhiannon says, "Both of you?"
"Oh, I'll stay," Sadie says, crawling over to wrap her arms around Rhiannon, "Got to have a wizard around for when magic baby wants to be played with at two am."
"I shouldn't leave Oisin with Kit, Kit's under a spell but still. Safer two of us are on him," I say, standing to bounce Myrddin who giggles.
"Fair," Rhiannon says, moving to get up.
"I'll play with him till he goes to sleep, you two get ready for bed," I say, offering her my free arm to help her up.
Both girls hug me, squeezing either of my arms.
"I'll be FINE," I say, letting them both hug me tightly because I love hugs.
I take Myrddin back to his nursery, which adjoins Rhiannon's room, but is far enough that she can chose to have someone else to fetch him. Usually she has him brought to her though, for magic related reasons if not affection. If he's been a very naughty little wizard and wants to play I'll sleep on the floor of his room. He knows how to wake me up if he wants to play and will do so happily with magic.
I rock him back and forth. He's stubborn and wants to keep playing, but I can tell his big blue eyes are getting tired.
I sing him 'Suo Gan', a traditional Welsh Lullaby.
"Huna'n dawel, heno, huna,
Huna'n fwyn, y tlws ei lun;
Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu,
Gwenu'n dirion yn dy hun?
Ai angylion fry sy'n gwenu,
Arnat ti yn gwenu'n llon,
Tithau'n gwenu'n ôl dan huno,
Huno'n dawel ar fy mron?

Paid ag ofni, dim ond deilen
Gura, gura ar y ddôr;
Paid ag ofni, ton fach unig
Sua, sua ar lan y môr;
Huna blentyn, nid oes yma
Ddim i roddi iti fraw;
Gwena'n dawel yn fy mynwes.
Ar yr engyl gwynion draw."

In English that's

"Sleep peacefully tonight, sleep;
Gently sleep, my lovely;
Why are you now smiling,
Smiling gently in your sleep?
Are angels above smiling on you,
As you smile cheerfully,
Smiling back and sleeping,
Sleeping quietly on my breast?
Do not fear, it is nothing but a leaf
Beating, beating on the door;
Do not fear, only a small wave
Murmurs, murmurs on the seashore;
Sleep child, there's nothing here
Nothing to give you fright;
Smile quietly in my bosom,
On the blessed angels yonder."
It's a traditional Welsh lullaby, but you might know it from the film Empire of the Sun, Christian Bale (a Welshman) sings it in the movie. It's one of our more commonly known songs, around the world, but Wales is a very musical country and there are lots of songs that I haven't learned yet. I've been learning Welsh lullabies mostly for the baby's sake. Gareth has been good about schooling me on drinking songs. So that's been my principal education. Oisin has many Gaelic songs he knows by heart and he's been known to compose them as well. I confess I usually wind up listening to him and retaining nothing.
Myrddin is asleep by the fourth verse, and I carefully lay him down in his cradle. I go through the song one more time, keeping my hand on his tummy, before slowly sliding it away. I'd like nothing more than to lie down here on the floor, or go and crawl under Rhiannon's mattress, but. Myrddin is fine. His mothers are in the next room. And I left Oisin in the 21st century with a very dangerous Kit.
I kiss Myrddin's forehead one more time, then return to six hundred odd years in the future.
All is as I left it. Kit is asleep, bound and gagged, in one corner of the room. Oisin has taken off his tunic and boots and is sitting on the bed playing the lute, rather well. I'm sure the other motel guests don't think so, as it's two am.
"How were things?" Oisin asks.
"Fine, Harlech is preparing for war," I sigh, crawling into bed next to him, rubbing my face.
"D'you want to crawl under the mattress?" He asks, nicely.
"No, I'd rather a cuddle," I say.
"Come here," he says, wrapping his arm around me and letting me lay my head on his chest, "Did Kit hurt you?"
"No—just never been creeped on before, you'd think that wouldn't be worse than the many murder attempts," I scoff.
"It is still strange, don't think about him. You need your rest. Put all that out of your mind, and think about something good," he says, stroking my hair, "That way you have pleasant dreams."
"Where'd you learn that?" I ask.
"My father, in retrospect he was trying to get me to stop crying so much so he was trying to distract me. But it works. I remember my mother, caring for me, and think of her, then in my dreams she's alive again," he says.
"I'll think about us," I say, twisting my hand in his, and pressing my face into his warm skin. Someone is here, holding me. And everything will be fine for tonight. Just for now. I get to rest.