
Horned King may have some part in this."
"The Horned King?" asked Taran.
"We shall speak of him later," said Dallben. He drew a ponderous,
leather-bound volume toward him, The Book of Three, from which he occasionally
read to Taran and which, the boy believed, held in its pages everything anyone
could possibly want to know.
"As I have explained to you before," Dallben went on, "--and you have
very likely forgotten--Prydain is a land of many cantrevs--of small kingdoms
--and many kings. And, of course, their war leaders who command the warriors."
"But there is the High King above them all," said Taran, "Math Son of
Mathonwy. His war leader is the mightiest hero in Prydain. You told me of him.
Prince Gwydion! Yes," Taran went on eagerly, "I know..."
"There are other things you do not know," Dallben said, "for the obvious
reason that I have not told you. For the moment I am less concerned with the
realms of the living than with the Land of the Dead, with Annuvin."
Taran shuddered at the word. Even Dallben had spoken it in a whisper.
"And with King Arawn, Lord of Annuvin," Dallben said. "Know this," he
continued quickly, "Annuvin is more than a land of death. It is a treasure
house, not only of gold and jewels but of all things of advantage to men. Long
ago, the race of men owned these treasures. By craft and deceit, Arawn stole
them, one by one, for his own evil uses. Some few of the treasures have been
wrested from him, though most lie hidden deep in Annuvin, where Arawn guards
them jealously."
"But Arawn did not become ruler of Prydain," Taran said.
"You may be thankful he did not," said Dallben. "He would have ruled had
it not been for the Children of Don, the sons of the Lady Don and her consort
Belin, King of the Sun. Long ago they voyaged to Prydain from the Summer
Country and found the land rich and fair, though the race of men had little
for themselves. The Sons of Don built their stronghold at Caer Dathyl, far
north in the Eagle Mountains. From there, they helped regain at least a
portion of what Arawn had stolen, and stood as guardians against the lurking
threat of Annuvin."
"I hate to think what would have happened if the Sons of Don hadn't
come," Taran said. "It was a good destiny that brought them."
"I am not always sure," said Dallben, with a wry smile. "The men of
Prydain came to rely on the strength of the House of Don as a child clings to
its mother. They do so even today. Math, the High King, is descended from the
House of Don. So is Prince Gwydion. But that is all by the way. Prydain has
been at peace--as much as men can be peaceful--until now.
"What you do not know," Dallben said, "is this: it has reached my ears
that a new and mighty warlord has risen, as powerful as Gwydion; some say more
powerful. But he is a man of evil for whom death is a black joy. He sports
with death as you might sport with a dog."
"Who is he?" cried Taran.
Dallben shook his head. "No man knows his name, nor has any man seen his
face. He wears an antlered mask, and for this reason he is called the Horned
King. His purposes I do not know. I suspect the hand of Arawn, but in what
manner I cannot tell. I tell you now for your own protection," Dallben added.
"From what I saw this morning, your head is full of nonsense about feats of
arms. Whatever notions you may have, I advise you to forget them immediately.
There is unknown danger abroad. You are barely on the threshold of manhood,
and I have a certain responsibility to see that you reach it, preferably with
a whole skin. So, you are not to leave Caer Dallben under any circumstances,
not even past the orchard, and certainly not into the forest--not for the time
being."
"For the time being!" Taran burst out. "I think it will always be for
the time being, and it will be vegetables and horseshoes all my life!"
"Tut," said Dallben, "there are worse things. Do you set yourself to be
a glorious hero? Do you believe it is all flashing swords and galloping about
on horses? As for being glorious..."