Pendragon pc-4

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  'I see them leaving,' Fergus replied thoughtfully. 'But I am asking myself where they are going.'

  'That is what I am wondering, too,' said Arthur. 'And I mean to find out.' He turned quickly and summoned Llenlleawg to him; they spoke quietly. The Irish champion nodded once, mounted his horse and rode away.

  We returned to Rath Mor, and spent the day resting and waiting for Llenlleawg's return. I slept a little in the heat of the day, and woke to a scattering of low clouds and a freshening wind off the sea. The caer was quiet as I made my way towards the hall.

  Bedwyr called to me as I entered the yard. 'Myrddin!' he rose from the bench outside the hall and crossed to me quickly. 'I have been waiting for you. Arthur asked me to bring you as soon as you stirred.'

  'Has Llenlleawg returned?'

  'No,' he replied, 'and I think that is why Arthur wishes to see you.'

  I turned towards the hall, but Bedwyr caught my arm. 'Conaire is there, and he has had too much to drink. Cai is keeping watch inside. Bear is in his hut.'

  We walked quickly to the hut Arthur and Gwenhwyvar shared. Bedwyr ducked his head and pushed through the ox hide covering. 'Bear, I have brought -' he began, then halted abruptly and backed out the door again quickly.

  I heard Gwenhwyvar laugh, and Arthur called out, 'It is all right, brother, there are no secrets between us.'

  Bedwyr glanced at me and muttered, 'Not any more.'

  'Come in,' urged Gwenhwyvar. 'Come in, both of you. It is all right.' The laughter in her voice reminded me of my own Ganieda, and the memory pierced like an arrow through my heart. Ganieda, best beloved, we will yet be together one day.

  Bedwyr and I entered the hut. Gwenhwyvar was tying her laces and rearranging her clothing; her hair was tousled and her smile was full. Arthur was reclining. He raised himself on his elbow and offered us places on the hide-covered floor. 'You might have told me to delay a little,' Bedwyr said, blushing lightly.

  'And you might have announced your arrival,' Arthur replied with a laugh.

  'Dear Bedwyr,' Gwenhwyvar said softly, 'there is no hurt, and hence no blame. Be easy.'

  'Llenlleawg has not returned?' Arthur said.

  'Not yet.' Bedwyr gave his head a slight shake.

  'It is as I feared.'

  'Then you do not know him,' Gwenhwyvar began. 'He will -'

  Arthur did not let her finish. 'It is not Llenlleawg's welfare that concerns me. I know full well that he is more than match to any trouble that finds him. But if the invaders had simply sailed away, he would have returned by now. I think it likely the Vandal host has come ashore again farther south. And if Amilcar's boast about having more warships waiting – ' He left the unsettling thought hanging.

  In the wisdom of warcraft, Arthur had no equal. Likely, he was right. I might have asked him how he had arrived at this conclusion, but I accepted it instead, saying, 'What do you propose?'

  'Conaire must ride south at once to renew the defence. I will return to Britain and raise the war host.'

  'Will they agree to fight, do you think?' wondered Bedwyr.

  'They have no choice,' Arthur said bluntly. 'How long will the Island of the Mighty remain secure with the Rampaging Boar just across Muir Eiru?'

  'I agree, Bear. All saints bear witness, your words are prudence itself,' Bedwyr affirmed. 'But prudence is a virtue in short supply among the bull-necked British lords, as you well know. It may be that they will require something more to convince them.'

  I agreed with Bedwyr, but Arthur remained confident in his ability to reason with the lords of Britain and win them to the campaign. 'We leave at once.'

  'The ship must be readied,' I pointed out.

  'I have already sent Barinthus ahead with some of Fergus' men," Arthur said. 'Bedwyr, fetch Cai.'

  Bedwyr rose and paused at the door. 'What of Conaire?'

  'I will tell Conaire what is to be done,' Arthur answered.

  'Allow me,' Gwenhwyvar offered. 'You must not delay or the tide will be against you. Go now. I will explain to Conaire.' She saw the question in Arthur's eyes, and said, 'Spare no thought for me, my love; I will be well. Besides, Llenlleawg will soon return.'

  Arthur rose. The matter was concluded and he was eager to be gone. 'Very well.'

  We waited in the yard as our horses were made ready. Fergus and Cai emerged from the hall. 'It is better we were gone,' Cai told us. 'That Conaire is itching for a fight and I fear he will have one before this day is through.'

  'You go,' Fergus said. 'Leave Conaire to me. I know him, and I will see no harm is done.'

  'I leave it to you then,' Arthur said, swinging himself up into the saddle. 'Do what you must, but be ready to ride south as soon as Llenlleawg returns. I will send men and supplies as soon as I reach Caer Melyn.'

  'Fare well, my love,' Gwenhwyvar said.

  Arthur leaned down and gathered her in a quick embrace, and we then rode from Rath Mor and hastened towards the coast. The ship was waiting when we arrived, and the tide was already flowing. Wasting not a moment, we boarded the horses, slipped the line, and pushed off. Once into the bay, Barinthus raised the sail and the ship took wings back to Britain.

  TEN

  We entered Mor Hafren as soon as it was light and came within sight of the hills surrounding Caer Melyn. For two nights and a day, Barinthus and his crew had wrested speed from contrary and fitful winds to reach the trail to Arthur's southern stronghold as the sun broke the horizon in a blaze of red and flaming gold. Once more in the saddle, we flew through shadowed valleys blue with hanging mist. By the time we reached Caer Melyn, I could feel the heat of the day to come.

  And I felt something else: a stab of foreboding, sharp and quick. My senses pricked.

  At our approach, the gates of the fortress were thrown open wide and, as the others entered the yard to the acclaim of their sword brothers, I paused before passing the threshold. There was a cloying closeness in the air, a stillness that stifled, and seemed to me more than just the early warmth of a hot summer day. It was as if an enormous, suffocating presence, unseen as yet, though near, was shifting its immense weight towards us, thickening the air around it as it came. I could feel the ominous advance as that of a silent squall line of storm cloud drawing over the land. But there were no clouds; nothing could be seen.

  Yet, despite the glad greeting we received from the Cymbrogi, my heart remained troubled by this strange feeling of oppression.

  Arthur wasted not a moment. Even while he washed and pulled on clean clothes, he called commands to his battlechiefs. He sent riders to make for the realms round about to summon all the nearest lords to council and ordered ships to take word to the north. Gwalchavad, ever eager to plough the sea fields, led the ship-borne messengers; they departed the caer at once and were gone before the sound of their greeting had faded in the air. Arthur then commanded the Cymbrogi to ready the remaining fleet. There were provisions to load, weapons to assemble, horses to gather in from the grazing lands as, once more, the Dux Bellorum prepared for war.

  I had little part in the preparations. My place was with Arthur in council, and I readied myself in the best way I knew to receive the southern noblemen: I prayed. Arthur thought the warbands would rise to his call; but I knew it would take more than a polite request to move British kings to pursue a war on Irish soil.

  This, of course, I tried telling Arthur, but he would not hear it. 'And I tell you, Myrddin, it is either fight the Boar on Irish soil, or fight him here. Blood will be spilled either way, I do not deny it; we can at least save the destruction of our lands.'

  'I do believe you. However, the Lords of Britain will want a better reason,' I insisted, 'to fight shoulder to shoulder with those who have dealt them so much heartache through the years.'

  'That is past and forgotten.'

  'We are an unforgiving race, Arthur,' I continued. 'We have long memories. Or have you forgotten?'

  He did not smile at my meagre jest. 'They will listen to me,' he maintained. His confidence br
ooked no opposition.

  'They will listen, yes. They will sit down and discuss the matter until the cock crows, but will they act? Will they raise so much as an eyebrow to aid you in what every last one of them will regard as a quarrel between barbarians? Indeed, most of them will think it divine punishment on the Irish for their thieving and warring ways.'

  It was clear that Arthur would not hear it, so I stopped telling him. I took my leave and left him to his plans. Stepping from the hall, I nearly collided with Rhys, Arthur's steward, hurrying away on some errand or other. 'Ah, Rhys! There you are. I have been looking for you.'

  'I give you good greeting, Emrys,' he replied quickly, and asked: 'Is it true we are joining the Irish in a boar hunt?'

  'Yes,' I answered, and told him the boar we were hunting was human. Then I asked, 'Where is Bors?'

  'A message came two days ago from Ban,' Rhys explained. 'Bors was summoned home.'

  'Trouble?'

  'I think so. But Bors did not say what it was. He only said he would return as soon as he had seen to his brother's affairs.'

  'Have you told Arthur this?'

  'No,' he answered. 'I have been running since you arrived, and-'

  'Well, tell him now.' Rhys looked past me into the hall. 'Yes, at once. We will talk again later.'

  When he had gone, I slung my harp upon my back and walked out from the caer and down to the little Taff river to find a shady place to sit and think.

  In the shaded valley, down among the green rushes, I sat myself upon a moss-covered rock and listened to the water ripple as it slid along the deep-cut banks. Bees and flies droned on the lifeless air and water bugs spun in small circles on the slow-moving water. There with the ancient elements of darkness, earth, and water, I cast my net of thought wide. 'Come to me!' I whispered to the air. 'Come to Myrddin. Illumine me… illumine me.'

  I sat bent over the polished curve of my harp as if I might pluck the knowledge I sought from the song-laden strings with my fingertips. But though the harp gave forth its quicksilver melody, I was not enlightened. After a while, I put the harp aside and took up my staff instead.

  It was, I reflected, a venerable length of rowan, the stout wood smoothed with use. Bedwyr had made it for me following my ordeal with Morgian. The thought brought a fleeting twinge of fear-like the shadow of a circling crow touching my face.

  I pushed the hateful memory from me, however, and gradually felt the peace of the valley, like its deep, still warmth, enfold me. I fell into a waking sleep, a reverie, and I began to dream. I saw the mountains of Celyddon, dark-clothed in their sharp-scented pines, and beyond them the barren, windy heathlands of the Little Dark Ones, the Hill Folk. I saw the members of my adopted family, the Hawk Fhain. I saw Gern-y-fhain, the Wise Woman of tie hills, my second mother, who taught me the use of powers even druids have forgotten – if they ever knew.

  Thinking on these things, I let my mind wander where it would. I heard the riversound, the gentle ripple of water lapping, and the dry twitch of grass where a mouse or bird passed. I heard the click of a moorhen, and the sawing buzz of a fly. These sounds faded away slowly, replaced by the rasping hiss of a whisper, broken by time and distance, but gradually growing stronger. Words began to form…

  Dead?… Dead…But what do you mean? How can it be?… No! No! The anguished voice faded away in a stifled scream and was replaced by another: I am burning… I cannot see… Lie down, Garr. I will help you. Do not try to stand… I heard a child's voice crying: Wake up, Nanna. Wake up! The small voice dissolved into sobs, and was mingled with other cries which grew into such a wailing and shrieking that I felt their distress as a keening lament. My soul writhed in sympathy; tears came to my eyes. And yet, no hint of what was happening, or where.

  Great Light, comforter of all who mourn and are heavy-laden, sustain those who need your strength in the day of their travail. This, for the sake of your Blessed Son. So be it!

  I prayed and remained silent for a time. But the voices did not return, and I knew they would not now come again. I had some times heard voices in the past; and now, as then, it did not occur to me to doubt their veracity. That I should hear them did not surprise me; it merely confirmed once again the capricious blessing of the awen.

  Thrice blessed is the Emrys of Britain! It is the blessing of my mother's race to make me long-lived, just as it was the blessing of my father, singing the very life into my soul, which awakened the awen. The blessing of Jesu called me forth to serve in this worlds-realm.

  Oh, but I am a wickedly slothful servant, dim-sighted and slow of understanding, preferring my warm dark ignorance to wisdom's cold light. When men speak of Myrddin Emrys in years to come – if they should remember me at all – it will be as a blind beggar, the fool in the courts of kings, the simpleton whose ignorance was exceeded only by his pride. I am not worthy of the gifts I have been given, and I am not equal to the tasks those gifts beget.

  High King of Heaven, forgive me. There is no truth but it is illumined by you, Great Light. Though I see, I am a blind man still. Lord Christ, have mercy on me.

  So the river ran, and so ran my thoughts. The mind of man is a curious thing. Seeking knowledge, I was confronted with my own ignorance; I could but admit my poverty and embrace mercy instead.

  The first of the summoned lords had arrived with his warband by the time I returned to the caer. Ulfias, whose lands were nearest, was with Arthur in the hall. They sat at table together, with Cai, Bedwyr and Cador attending. Ulfias, looking grim and uncertain, lifted his head as I entered, but did not rise. Arthur glanced up, grateful for my arrival. 'Ah, Myrddin, good. I thought to send the hounds after you.' He turned to Rhys, hovering nearby. ‘Fill the cup.' As Rhys produced a jar, Arthur continued, 'I have been telling Ulfias about the Vandali invading Ierne.'

  Having taken the measure of Ulfias, I looked the wavering lord in the eye and demanded, 'Well then, will you support your king?'

  The young lord swallowed hard. 'It is a very difficult thing, to be sure,' he muttered. 'I would like to hear what the other lords say.'

  'Cannot you determine your own mind?'

  My question shamed him. He actually winced. 'Lord Emrys,' he said in a disconcerted tone, 'is it not to be decided in council? What the council agrees to do, that will I do. You have my pledge.'

  'A pledge is but a paltry thing,' I scoffed. 'And if the council decides to bare its bottom and sit on the dung heap? Will you do that as well?'

  Cai and Cador laughed.

  'Beware,' warned Bedwyr under his breath. 'You go too far.'

  But Arthur said, 'Never fear, Ulfias. It may not come to that. But if it does, no doubt you will enjoy the close companionship of your friends.'

  Oh, Arthur was astute. Though he made light of my remark, he would allow Ulfias no dignified means of retreat. The Dubuni lord was caught in his own indecision; he must remain unmoved and endure the scorn, or redeem himself.

  'Come, Ulfias,' Cador urged amiably, 'let us support our king as we have sworn to do. And who knows? We may grow to love Ierne.'

  Ulfias swallowed his pride and said, 'Very well. If the women there are all as fair as Gwenhwyvar, I may even take an Irish wife.'

  'I do not wonder that you say so,' Cai told him solemnly. 'I have seen the Dubuni tribe, and you could do worse than choose an Irish maid – if you can find any who would have you.'

  Ulfias smiled doubtfully. This gentle taunting was better than my mockery. So, one more lord was added to our number. Cador's loyalty was beyond question. Indeed, he would not allow Arthur to humble himself by asking what he was more than willing to give outright. Cador, holding Caer Melyn in his lord's absence, had sent word to his battlechiefs within moments of Arthur's return.

  The others we might have counted on – Idris, Cadwallo, Cunomor, and the lords of the North – would not receive word for many days. Meurig, however, arrived at dusk, and Brastias the following morning. Accompanying Brastias was a kinsman, a young nobleman named Gerontius, whom the elder
lord was grooming for command.

  Ogryvan of Dolgellau and his neighbour lord, Owain, arrived at midday, bringing with them their sons: Vrandub and Owain Odiaeth, who – in this season of peace following the Saecsens' defeat – had been given charge of their fathers' war bands.

  Arthur welcomed the noblemen and gave them food and drink. No sooner were they settled than Urien Rheged arrived with his warband, and suddenly the caer was overflowing with warriors. 'We will begin now,' Arthur decided.

  'What about the other lords?' wondered Bedwyr. 'A day or two more and they will arrive. You will need them.'

  'I cannot wait any longer. Every day we delay means another day of plunder for Twrch Trwyth.' So saying, Arthur invited the nobles into the hall with their warriors and began the council even as the welcome cups were filled and passed.

  'Your swift answer to my summons gladdens me,' Arthur declared, standing before them at the board. 'Be sure that I would not have asked you to attend if the need were not already sharp. I will keep nothing from you; the reason for the summons is this: the barbarian horde of one Twrch Trwyth has invaded Ierne and I fear that island is lost if we do not rally to her aid.'

  'A small enough loss, it seems to me,' observed Brastias sourly.

  Cador was quick to respond to this impertinence. 'You speak, Brastias, like one who has never had to defend a coast against marauding Sea Wolves.'

  'What have the Irish ever given us but the point of a spear if we were foolish enough to turn our backs to them?' Brastias demanded. 'Sooner aid the barbarian, I say, and have done with the Irish for once and all."

  'For myself,' put in Ogryvan, laying aside his cup, 'I have lost much to Eiru's thieves.' He looked at Arthur. 'Even so, I give my support to the king if it will secure the safety of my coast.'

  'Well said, Lord Ogryvan,' Arthur commended him. 'That is the price I will demand for Britain's aid. From what I have seen of the Black Boar, the kings of Ierne will pay that price and gladly.' He told them then of our encounters with the Vandali, and warned, 'Know this: Amilcar has vowed to destroy Britain as well as Ierne. Unless we stop him there, we will see our own homes burned and our kinsmen slaughtered.'