Self Para 004
Leaving home.
Above the hedgerows, the moon hung low as Rhys Howell rode home through the light drizzle of rain. His cloak was damp from the mist and rain, and he could see Llŷr’s mane was also dampened by the environment. The sound of Llŷr’s hooves and brief snorts was the only sound Rhys could hear across the Carew roads. When Rhys finally arrived at his family home, the lanterns in the farmhouse were still glowing, barely, but they were still there. Once again, Rhys was late arriving home, but this wasn’t anything new. His family knew that Rhys was never one for timekeeping, especially when it came to his horse rides.
Rhys dismounted Llŷr quietly in the yard, brushing the damp from Llŷr’s coat. He’d been helping Dafydd Evans mend a cart axle, and time had escaped him. Naturally, Dafydd welcomed Rhys to stay longer for an ale or two, and who was Rhys to decline?. Either way, Rhys knew that his father wouldn’t believe him. “We’re in for it now, boy,” Rhys said quietly. Llŷr gave Rhys a snort in response, causing Rhys to smile before he put Llŷr back into his stall. Even from the stable, Rhys could hear his parents arguing, but not loud enough to make out any of their words. When he reached the front door, he paused briefly.
This wasn’t their normal argument. He’d seen his parents arguing before, his father with his signature set jaw and crossed arms while his mother usually sat, trying to calm things down with gentle words. “Please, Gethin, he’s done nothing.” Rhys heard his mother say as he crept past the kitchen. He’d made sure that his footsteps were light; he didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire. Rhys had made it to the staircase, only managing two or three steps when he heard his father’s voice. “I always knew he was a curse on this house. “Rhys has been nothing but trouble since he came into this world, and now I know it for certain.” It wasn’t the first time Rhys had been the topic of conversation or the cause of an argument. It was, however, the first time that his father had spoken with so much venom when he said Rhys’s name.
Rhys lingered, pausing outside his bedroom door, trying to listen to more of the ongoing argument. His heart pounded as Rhys tried to be as quiet as possible. “...You’ve held this in for long enough, Anwen.” Was all Rhys could hear from his father. Their voices had gone quieter, but Rhys didn’t want to risk getting closer. “There was nothing good to come of it.” His mother said, sounding desperate and fearful almost, but sad overall. Rhys' heart continued to pound when he heard the kitchen door open. Quickly and quietly, Rhys practically dived into his room.
Madoc, Rhys’s older brother, was already sleeping in their shared room. Their parents' bickering had become common; it stopped disturbing anyone else’s sleep. For a short while, Rhys lay on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, wondering what he’d done wrong this time. Soon enough, sleep had finally found Rhys, despite his mind racing.
The sound of the bedroom door crashing open woke up Rhys and Madoc. The two brothers barely had time to open their eyes when Gethin was looming in the doorway with a lantern in his hand. “Get up,” Gethin commanded. Before either brother had a chance to react, Gethin ripped away Rhys’s covers. Madoc barely rose up from his bed when Rhys was pulled out of his bed when he tried to speak. All he was met with was Gethin demanding Rhys leave the house.
Anwen stood behind her husband, tears streaming down her face, clutching at her shawl. Rhys looked to his mother for answers, but all he could see was a woman, eyes wide with pleading. “Gethin, please,” she’d said softly, her hand placed on her husband’s shoulder. “He’s done nothing wrong.” Everyone could see Gethin stiffen beneath her touch. His face looked like thunder while his eyes bore into Rhys’s. “He doesn’t belong here,” Gethin snarled, his eyes never leaving Rhys.
Rhys had so many insults thrown his way, all from his father’s lips, but this was different. There was no shouting, no frustration, but there was something that he couldn’t recognise. Pure and utter disgust, maybe.
“If you want me gone, tell me why.” Rhys tried to be calm, but his shaking voice betrayed him. There was a silence that followed, which felt endless. Madoc sat up in his bed; Anwen was behind her husband. Rhys and Gethin just stared at each other, one with confusion and the other with nothing but malice.
“Da,” Rhys began talking until Gethin’s hand shot forward. All Rhys could feel was the stinging sensation across his face and the taste of blood in his mouth. His vision was a little blurred as Anwen rushed between them. Rhys felt his eyes start to burn, but he refused to let any tears fall.
“He goes before I do much worse,” Gethin commanded once more, only this time to Anwen. Rhys reached for his pack, but Gethin had already snatched it away. “You’ll take nothing from this house apart from your horse. That’s not mine to take.” Llŷr was a gift from Rhys’s maternal uncle, a birthday gift on his eighteenth birthday, to celebrate Rhys coming into adulthood. Now, it was all he had to his name.
Anwen sobbed while Rhys said nothing. All he could do was silently nod while his brother handed him a cloak. Gethin stayed close as Rhys moved through the house and down to the stables. Neither spoke as Rhys saddled his horse. Anwen was told to stay in the house while Rhys departed. Rhys was about to mount when Gethin took Llŷr’s bridle. “No one will help you,” Gethin said with a coldness that Rhys hadn’t ever felt. “I’ll see to it that no one’s door is open to you, boy.”
All Rhys wanted to do was ask why. Why did his mother look through the window as if she was consumed by something? Why couldn’t he say goodbye to his sisters. More importantly, he wanted to ask why his father hated him so much. Rhys hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, but he didn’t want to risk another hit.
When Rhys finally took off with Llŷr, the morning mist was with the dawn. When Rhys got further away, he looked back to his home in the far-off distance. He was trying to burn the farm into his memory, trying to remember everything. Every sunrise, every family meal – but it was all suddenly too much. Rhys couldn’t look at it any longer. He clicked his tongue, and he and Llŷr made their way to Knighton. He didn’t know what his plans were beyond this night, only that he wasn’t welcome home anymore.
