by J A Cummings
“The fact that you wonder if you’re worthy,” Illtyd said, “means that you are.”
“It’s not that simple,” Brastias objected. “He’s just a boy. He’s not even a knight yet. How can he be king? Lot will eat him alive.”
Arthur frowned. “Who is Lot?”
Ector took a deep breath and blew it out. “You have a lot to learn, and not much time. We will teach you on the road to Londinium.” He looked around the chapel. “Let us see to this poor dead man and then begin our journey. We don’t want to be late.”
Merlin fixed Arthur with a firm look. “Name them. Quickly, without thinking. Steward.”
He answered with the most obvious name. “Sir Ector.”
“Constable.”
“Sir Brastias.”
“Mareschal?”
“Sir Bedivere.”
“Cup bearer.”
Arthur thought of the chalices that priests used in Mass. “Sir Illtyd.”
“Seneschal?”
“Sir Kay.”
His brother looked startled, then puffed with pride. Arthur smiled at him, and Kay smiled back. A creeping look of guilt shadowed the older youth’s expression, but he chased it away bravely.
Merlin’s voice was warm and had a strange intensity when he said, “Then am I to be your Chamberlain?”
“Yes. And my chief advisor.”
The druid nodded. “Excellent choices. I approve.”
Brastias crossed his arms. “Thank you for the trust you’ve put in me, my lord.”
It was surreal to be spoken to with such respect, and it made Arthur wonder if this was all a dream. But no, it was all too real, and in this moment, in this place, everything had changed.
Arthur Rex: Book Two
Ex Lapis
Appendix A: Characters
Caer Gai
Sir Ector, master of the estate
Kay, his son
Arthur, Sir Ector’s ward
Ewain, the groom
Mairwen, wife of Ewain, housekeeper and cook
Aithne, a serving girl
Avona, an ageing warhorse
Father Marcus, village priest
Sir Illtyd (ill-TOOD) – formerly a knight, now a monk
Sir Ulfius
Griflet, a squire, nephew to Sir Bedivere
Lady Garwen, niece to Sir Bedivere
Viroconium
Sir Bedivere Bedrydant of Viroconium
Amren, his son
Prince Catigern, second son of the late High King Vortigern
Sir Brastias
Lucan, Bedivere’s bastard half-brother and squire
Ynys Môn
Merlin, a Druid (also an incubus), also called Myrddin Wyllt
Carys, a Druidess
Guto, a Druid
Enfys, a Druidess
Kingdom of Lothian
King Lot, also named Lothar
Queen Morgause
Gawain, their oldest son
Kingdom of Rheged
King Uriens
Queen Morgana
Owain ap Uriens
Kingdom of Norgalis
King Pellinore
Queen Sybile, sorceress
Prince Aglovale, his heir
Sir Gamerion, his right hand
Sir Cadfan, his seneschal
Glain, the queen’s lady
Aquae Sulis/Convent of Bath
Igraine, formerly High Queen
Reverend Mother Niobe
Kingdom of Ireland (Eire)
King Angwis
Queen Yseult, sorceress
The Morholt, warlord, the queen’s brother
Armorica
Prince Constantine, nephew of the late High King Uther Pendragon
King Ban of Benoic
Queen Helene, his wife
Galahad, their infant son
King Bors of Gaunnes
Queen Evaine, his wife
Britons
Archbishop Augustine of Londinium, leading Christian prelate in Britannia
King Brachwel of Powys
King Rions of Gwent
King Leodegrance of Cameliard
King Escanor of the White Mountain
King Bagdemagus of Gore
King Rivalen of Lyonesse
King Pelles of Corbenic
Marcus Cunomorus of Kernow (Cornwall)
King Claudas of the Franks
Prince Madoc of Caerpaeris, illegitimate son of High King Uther Pendragon
Huail, warlord of the Picts
Saxons
Ganile, a sorceress
The Fey
King Fergus Mor Mac Eirc
Princess Guinevere, Sovereignty, ward of King Leodegrance
Evienne, one of the Ladies of the Lake
Niniane, one of the Ladies of the Lake
Demons, Gods, Creatures and Magic Users
Vivienne, succubus
Annowre, succubus
Murduus, demon
The Morrigan, goddess
Macha, goddess
Arawn, god
Modron, goddess
Nodens, god
Taranis, god
Cernunnos, god
Gwyn ap Nudd, psychopomp
Sulis-Minerva, goddess
Odin, god
The Melltith, summoned creature
The Impactful Dead
High King Uther Pendragon
Duke Gorlois of Cornwall
High King Vortigern – ruled before Uther, invited Saxons to Britannia
Prince Vortimer – son of Vortigern
Aelwen, Sir Ector’s wife
King Pellam, Pellinore’s father
British Tribes
Atrebates
Bajocassi
Belgae
Cantiaci
Catuvellauni
Corieltauvi
Cornovii
Deceangi
Dumnonii
Durotriges
Gododdin
Iceni
Silures
Appendix B: Locations
Regions
Armorica
Logres
Cambria
Caledonia
Gaul
Kingdoms
Ireland
Rheged
Lothian
Gwynedd
Powys
Sugalis
Caerleon
Norgalis
Benoic
Gannes
Elmet
Nohaut
Estrangor
Cambenet
Ceredigion
Lyonesse
Listenoise
Corbenic
Cornwall
Cities and Fortresses
Caer Gai
Viroconium
Terrabil, a fortress in Cornwall
Tintagel, a castle in Cornwall – formerly the stronghold of High King Uther Pendragon
Ynys Môn – the sacred island of the Druids, their power base
Porth y Wygyr – the capital of Norgalis
Broch of Brodgar – fortress in the Orkney Islands, King Lot’s summer home
Din Eidyn – King Lot’s stronghold in Lothian
Appendix C: Glossary
Brythonic – the native Celtic language of Britannia
Caldarium – hot water bath
civitas – a Roman city-state
cnêowlian foran me - “kneel before me” (Saxon)
Eques – title accorded to the equestrian class of nobles - knight
Frigidarium – cold water bath
Héore rún – “gentle dance”
Rwy’n gwrthod – “I refuse” (Welsh)
strigil - an instrument with a curved blade used by the Romans to scrape oil, sweat and dirt from the skin after a bath
Sudatorium – the Roman version of a sauna
The Summerlands – a place of bliss in the Pagan Underworld/afterlife
Tepidarium – warm water bath
They put his half-brother in the g
round and stood by while Father Marcus invoked a Christian God that Madoc had never worshipped. Arthur thought that they should have given Madoc a proper Druidic burial, but Merlin had not objected to this ceremony, so he said nothing. In truth, considering it had been his blow that had ended Madoc’s life, he was the last person with any right to speak. In the end, the prayers were said, and everyone crossed themselves like dutiful worshippers as the dirt was shoveled over the dead prince’s shroud. The squires Lucan and Griflet were tasked with being the gravediggers, and they set to their task as Arthur and the knights went back into the keep.
“That’s two,” Sir Bedivere said as they crossed the snow-dusted ground between the chapel and the great hall.
“Two what?” Arthur asked.
“Two of your half-brothers who won’t be contesting you for the crown. Now only two remain.”
Sir Brastias was holding the door. “Two half-brothers remaining, and a list of petty kings and ambitious warlords as long as my arm. We will have to think very carefully about securing support for you before you are revealed.”
“Leave the first steps to me,” Merlin said.
“If they follow me, they have to do it by their own choice,” Arthur said. He could not believe that the calm voice he was hearing was his own, or that he was the one speaking the words. He felt like an actor in a play and he hadn’t finished memorizing his part. “I don’t want you to enchant anyone to compel their loyalty.”
“Well, you can’t bribe them,” Brastias pointed out. “You’re poor as a church mouse.”
“Loyalty isn’t worth a damn unless it’s freely given,” said Sir Ector, Arthur’s foster father. “I agree with Arthur. Bribed support only lasts as long as the flow of gold, and compulsory allegiance will end at the first opportunity to stab him in the back.”
Bedivere sat heavily by the hearth. “With all due respect to our young prince, here, a boy can only inspire grown men so far.”
Arthur pressed his lips into a determined line. “Watch me work.”
The assembled knights looked at him in varying degrees of skepticism. Finally, Sir Kay spoke for them all as he scoffed, “Watch you work at what? You’re useless.”
“Kay!” Sir Ector sounded horrified.
To everyone’s surprise, Arthur actually laughed. He could feel the laughter taking on an element of hysteria and he bit it back. “Please, Kay, never stop being yourself. Never stop treating me like your little brother. I will need that in times to come.”
“Fifteen years old.” Sir Illtyd shook his head. “And listen to you. ‘Watch me work,’ indeed.”
Arthur folded his arms and felt an unexpected stabbing grief as he found himself wishing that Amren were there to see this day. “Are you saying that you don’t support me, Sir Illtyd?”
“Oh, I will support your claim, if it is true and honest, and if you can actually pull the sword from the stone. Merlin says you’re the High King’s heir, and I have only known him to lie occasionally -”
“Damning with faint praise,” Merlin muttered.
“- so I will believe him for now,” Illtyd finished, glaring at the druid. “But you are already fancying yourself a leader of men, when this morning you were only a squire, and a half-trained one, at that. The hill you seek to climb is very steep, and if you set out on this path as you are today, you will never reach the top.”
“If you feel I need to be taught, then teach me,” Arthur said.
“There isn’t much time,” Ector noted, sitting on another bench. “It will take several days to get to Londinium if we go at a leisurely pace, but that isn’t nearly enough time to tell you everything you need to know.”
Merlin spoke quietly. “You didn’t see his training, but that doesn’t mean that he never received any. Remember, he was with me at Ynys Môn for three months, and every day, all day, I was teaching him.”
Illtyd snorted. “About roots and berries, perhaps, but not about the things he’ll need to know as king. Not how to fight, not how to lead.”
The druid frowned and said, “Yr ydym yn newid.” Magic spread through the room, emanating from him like a wave that washed over all of them. Arthur found himself clad in full armor, a sword in his hand, and Merlin, now strapped into armor of his own, stalked toward him with a dagger in one hand and a war hammer in the other. Arthur softened his knees, dropping slightly into a defensive crouch.
Bedivere sprang to his feet and stood between them. “Stop it! We know that Arthur can fight. He slew Madoc, did he not? We need no further proof.”
Merlin stopped his advance, and Arthur waited a heartbeat longer until he was certain no attack was coming. He finally straightened and relaxed. Illtyd shook his head and turned away.
Kay cleared his throat, then said hesitantly, “Is there really any way to make him ready for what’s to come? The best we can do is to adjust to the situation as we find it and make the best of things.”
Ector nodded. “Well spoken, son.” He sighed. “We -”
He stopped speaking. Garwen and Griflet had come into the hall, and the assembled knights looked at one another. Merlin shook his head slightly, and they all fell silent. The druid dismissed the armor and weapons his magic had called into being, and he turned to face the new arrivals.
“Lady Garwen,” he said smoothly. “I trust you’re feeling better?”
Sir Bedivere’s niece nodded. “Yes. It was… a shock. I’ve never seen a dead man before. There was so much blood...” Her voice caught, and Griflet, her brother, put a hand on her shoulder in support.
The knights held an awkward silence, and to Arthur, it looked as if they were all sharing some guilty secret. Griflet looked suspicious, his gaze shifting from one knight to another. In desperation to return to something like normality, Arthur said, “I’ll go to the kitchen and ask for refreshment.”
“But -” Bedivere cut himself off. “Of course. Well thought.”
Kay rose quickly. “I’ll go. I want to see what food we have for tonight.”
He left, brushing past Griflet and Garwen. The siblings shared an anxious glance, and then Bedivere cleared his throat. “Garwen, Sir Brastias and I are old friends.”
The girl nodded. “Yes, I know. I’ve heard you speak of him many times, and he of you.”
“I am your guardian, now that your parents are both departed.”
A glimmer of excitement sparked in her eyes. “Yes, you are.”
“I am old, my dear, and you are very young. Brastias and I were speaking…”
Arthur smiled to himself. It was a lie, but it covered the truth until it was time to reveal it. He walked to the edge of the room and stood behind Sir Ector, leaning against the wall and waiting for orders like a proper squire should.
Brastias looked at Bedivere in confusion, then in consternation. Understanding finally lit in his eyes as Bedivere said, “We were speaking about your future.”
“We were?” Brastias asked. The conversation was clearly going in a direction he had not intended.
“We were.”
Garwen’s lips twitched as she struggled not to react. “My future, my lord?”
Her uncle continued. “You need to marry soon, my dear, and you have been keeping company with Sir Brastias. He has asked for your hand in marriage.”
Brastias’s mouth dropped open, and Ector chuckled. Garwen clasped her hands tightly before her bosom, scarcely able to contain herself. Bedivere smiled at his old friend in something like triumph, and Brastias closed his mouth and swallowed hard.
Griflet raised his eyebrows. “Marriage?”
“Indeed.” Bedivere glanced at Brastias, his expression challenging the other knight to contradict his words, and then he turned back toward his niece. “Would this match please you?”
The girl flushed red all the way to her hairline, and she lost the battle to suppress her grin. “Very, very much, my lord.”
Illtyd smirked. “What say you, Sir Brastias?”
Brastias gulped again, then said
, “I say I will make you a happy wife, my lady, and I will be a good husband to you.” The knight walked to Garwen and took her hand in his. He looked into her eyes, and when he spoke, he sounded more certain. “I would have you, if you would have me.”
She nearly melted when he kissed her hand, and she asked her uncle, “Do we have your blessing, sir?”
“You do.”
“Then I will gratefully take you as my husband, Sir Brastias.”
They embraced. Arthur looked at Bedivere, who had a look of triumph on his face, and at Merlin, who seemed annoyed. Illtyd went to Brastias and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Congratulations, old dog. This is a day I never thought I’d live to see.”
The knight smirked and admitted, “Neither did I.”
Ector turned to Arthur and said softly, “Let this be a lesson for you in how to gently manipulate other people. Bedivere is the best in the business.”
The young man snorted. “So it seems. It was a risk, though. It would have been cruel to Garwen if Brastias had refused.”
“He couldn’t. We all know that he took her maidenhead, and for him to cast her off would have been dishonorable. He had no choice.”
“There are always choices,” Merlin said softly, joining them. “There just aren’t always good ones. Luckily Brastias is at heart a good man and would never humiliate a lady.”
Arthur nodded, taking it in. Garwen and Brastias were receiving congratulations from the others, and the noise was covering their conversation. “It’s a shame he was tricked into it. That’s no way for a marriage to begin.”
