by Tony Hays
We rode at a brisk pace. I learned nothing from the escorts save for the name of a woman who served good cervesas as well as other necessities. But the trip took only about twenty minutes, and we soldiers were left at the base of a wooded hill, holding the reins of the nobles as they climbed the steep incline.
Among the other escorts, I saw a half-dozen of David’s and my heart leaped into my throat. I was sure to be caught out. Keeping my head low, I hung to the outer edge of the clump of soldiers, hoping that I could skirt them and drift off quietly. A path had been cut through the trees on the slope, but they grew fairly thick around the base. If I could but get around them, they would block me from view.
Acknowledging the greetings of other soldiers with a grunt and half-salute, I kept my horse at a slow gait, wandering, almost aimlessly it must have seemed, to the trees on our right, a cluster of chestnut and maple.
Then I saw him, carefully descending the newly cut path, the white blazes of fresh wood dotting the hill like iron studs on a belt.
David.
Worse yet, he saw me.
Our eyes locked.
Recognition flared.
A swift kick to the horse’s flanks and I was off, as I heard David shouting instructions behind me.
I had rounded the trees and headed down the southern trail when I heard the horse’s hooves behind me, pounding the ground like one of our old tribal drums.
Even as I heard the whistle of a spear in flight, I did not dare look around, not even when its sharp edge clipped my ear and I could feel the warm blood run down my neck. I simply kicked the horse all the harder, urging it faster.
As if it could hear me, the horse laid its ears back and lengthened its stride.
Then, with at least one of my pursuers without his spear, I chanced to glance behind me. Four horsemen pursued me, all four David’s men. The others must have wondered why David’s men chased another of their lord’s soldiers, for I certainly looked like such.
Over all of the shouting, I heard a familiar voice rise. Another glance back, and I caught a glimpse of David, his fist raised in a gloved clench, shouting curses at me. I would have smiled but for the quartet of men chasing me.
I was out in the levels by then, those flat, marshy lands surrounding Ynys-witrin. In the distance, in the bright moonlight, I could see the rising hills that made an island of the Tor. Another ten minutes’ hard ride and I would be safe.
Or I would have been until my poor horse stepped into a badger hole.
For a second, I flew through the air, the shield lashed to my half-arm flailing wildly about. I broke my fall into the soft ground with the shield. It sent me tumbling, wrenching my knee, but I had no time for pain.
As quickly as I could, I got to my feet and staggered back toward my horse. Poor fellow, his leg was broken badly, so badly the bone showed whitely through his hide. Swiftly, without hesitation, I loosed the spears tied to his saddle and thrust one deeply into his throat. He had borne me too well to suffer. As the blood gushed forth, I stepped back and wished him well on his trip to the next life.
In the distance, I heard the hoofbeats of my pursuers drawing closer. The Tor and Ynys-witrin were still too far away to run for it, not when chased by four horsemen. A fast look about revealed no easy escapes, no high river bluffs from which to jump. Just four traitors to face.
Some low shrubs and hedges marked the ground, and I ducked down low. I had only one advantage, surprise. With any luck, the odds would be cut from four to one to two to one. With luck.
And then they were on me.
Or rather over me.
By the time they had caught up with me, they were riding so fast that they overshot my hiding place. Aye, they would have swept on into the early morning light, just beginning to show its face beyond the Tor, but my poor horse gave me away.
As it was, the first two soldiers missed the horse’s carcass completely. It was the third whose eye caught it.
And it was the third whose eye caught my first spear.
I rose swiftly, hiding only two or three feet from where he stopped. It was no skillful deed to sink my spear point into his eye socket, thrusting into his brain, twisting for good measure and then jerking it loose.
Only it did not come cleanly loose and only succeeded in yanking the soldier from his perch and wrenching the spear from my one-handed grasp. I snatched up the other spear and whirled around to face my fourth pursuer.
His horse, racing up on the scene, reared up in fright, toppling its rider to the ground. I was on him before he could scramble to his feet, driving the spear into his unprotected neck, sending a gout of blood spurting into the air. I snatched the dagger from his belt, tucked it in my own, and then spun to face his fellows.
They were on me.
The first was a seasoned soldier who bore down on me without hesitation. I tried to block his sword with my spear, but he was a man of uncommon strength, and the blow broke the shaft below the point.
Having dodged him, I could not dodge the second. His sword split the air by my head and cleaved a slice off the side of my head.
Pain exploded as I fell to the ground and my stomach revolted against me as I threw up the bad bile collected there. The world was spinning as I struggled to regain my feet. Blood was flooding down the side of my face, obscuring my vision and stealing yet more of my strength.
In a scarlet-colored haze, I thought I saw one of the soldiers dismount to finish the kill. I had made it to my knees by then, willing myself to rise. I paused to catch my breath as he closed in.
Then, with every bit of strength I had left, just as he came near enough to smell him, I drove my dagger into his stomach and twisted.
I fell away then, saying a prayer for Mariam and Ygerne. An odd satisfaction came over me as I reckoned that I had accounted for three of them. Not bad for a one-armed man.
But then blackness closed in and stole the prayer from my lips.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
At first, I heard nothing but voices, dim, confused, as if spoken from a barrel or through a heavy cloth. My eyes tried to open yet they felt glued shut. A voice broke through the fog finally.
“He’s trying to open his eyes! Clean his eyes!”
Then I felt a wet piece of cloth, warm and comforting, wiping across my eyes. My eyelids came open and I saw Merlin’s face nearly against my own.
“Good. He is awake.” Merlin withdrew his face, much to my relief, and turned away from me. The pain in my head pounded like a dozen Saxons beating it with rocks.
I felt a hand under my head and a beaker held to my lips. A lukewarm liquid passed my lips, burning my throat. “What is that, poison?”
“Extract of willow bark, Malgwyn, as you know all too well,” Merlin chastised me. “I believe that sword sliced off some of your good sense.”
“A sword, Merlin?” I heard Arthur’s voice. “I thought Malgwyn had taken the orders and this was some new tonsure.”
With a start, I remembered all that had passed. I jerked to a sitting position. “Arthur! Lord David, Teilo, Dochu, the Scotti.” It all came rushing out. Arthur patted me on the shoulder.
“I know, Malgwyn. I know. David has already sent a messenger in.”
“Demanding your surrender?”
The whole room, Merlin, Bedevere, Illtud, and Arthur, burst into laughter. “Malgwyn, that sword must have indeed upset your brain. David is on our side.”
Despite Arthur’s jest and the pounding in my skull, my brain was working just fine. But I would have to approach this carefully. “What did his messenger say?”
“That Lauhiir, Teilo, and Dochu were conspiring to attack me here, take me captive or kill me. That David was playing along with their game to better serve me, but when their attack came, he would turn his forces on them.”
David’s treachery knew no bounds. When he saw that his plans were falling apart, he simply arranged to change sides. Except that I had been slated for death. “How come me here?”
“One of my patrols came upon you in the levels, not far from here,” Illtud answered. “My soldiers saw a man race away on a horse. We found you with three of Lord David’s men slain, lying about you.”
“Malgwyn,” Arthur began sternly, “I trust you have a good reason for killing them. If I am to hold Lauhiir accountable for killing my men, I cannot excuse you for killing David’s.”
Bedevere handed me a beaker of mead and I drank deeply. The pain in my head was receding a bit. “Rigotamos, have I ever lied to you?”
Arthur cocked his head to the side. “No, Malgwyn, you have not.”
“Then listen carefully. David is not your ally. He changed sides when he learned that his plans had fallen apart. This he told me himself.”
“But Malgwyn—”
“Arthur!” Merlin stopped him with his most schoolmasterly voice. “Listen to him.”
So, between drinks of watered wine, I told Arthur my tale, from the journey to Bannaventa to following the Scotti, to my capture, imprisonment, the death of Llynfann, and my escape.
Arthur had long ago taken up a chair next to where I lay. He tugged on his beard and stayed silent for several minutes. “You make much sense. Illtud’s patrols spied the gathering of soldiers some hours ago, before David’s messenger arrived. But what you tell of Lauhiir bribing the Scotti to raid our southern lands is news indeed. If all you say is true, we may have a serious fight on our hands, Malgwyn.”
“Do not take David’s vows of allegiance at face value, my lord. Watch carefully. He may merely hold his men in reserve until he sees how we fare against the others. Watch your flanks. Send scouts to oversee David’s forces. Be prepared for a strike even as you prepare for his assistance.” I was on truly safe ground here. It was just such advice that first brought me to Arthur’s notice. “And, if there has been killing, my lord, David began it. Llynfann was operating under my instructions, therefore he was in your service.”
Arthur nodded. “Understood and agreed.”
“How stand your forces here?”
“We have moved up all but a hundred from the castle. But that may not be enough to handle the threat that Teilo and Dochu present, especially if the Scotti are convinced to join in battle here. Lauhiir’s men have scattered. Some have come to my banner; others may have joined the rebels. I have sent messengers to Gawain in the north and Mark in the south to gather their men and set patrols out immediately. Kay is too far away to help us here.”
“Has Lauhiir been found? I suspect he will confirm much of what I have said. Anything, I imagine, to save his own neck.”
I watched as every head in the room turned to avoid my eyes. “What?”
Bedevere spoke first. “He has sought sanctuary with Coroticus. As long as he remains within the abbey precinct, we cannot touch him.”
“How did he cross the vallum? How did he get past your guards?”
No one answered at first. Finally, Merlin, with a scowl, ventured an answer. “We do not know. He just appeared near the burying ground. Our men took him immediately, but Coroticus hurried up and granted him sanctuary.”
Regardless of how my head hurt, despite the weakness that gave tremors to my legs, I rose from my pallet. The time had come to put an end to this affair. Aye, this affair and that of Elafius and Patrick as well. I was tired of this puzzle, and I was beginning to believe that I understood how to unravel it.
“Bring me Lauhiir, Gwilym, Coroticus, and Rhiannon. I have had enough of their lies and half-truths. It is time for answers. When that is finished, I have an idea of how to handle the battle ahead.”
With Merlin and Bedevere helping me, we moved into Coroticus’s main hall. Merlin gave me more of the willow bark extract. As I waited for the group to gather, I steeled myself for the task ahead. Questions were to be asked and answered. Lies and secrets were to be revealed. But my plan lay along two paths— one of justice, and one of truth. Now was just the prelude, the beginning. The true ending would come later.
Several minutes later, the hall had been transformed into a tribunal, with myself as chief inquisitor. I had the quartet seated in front of me in a row. Arthur, Bedevere, and Merlin were arrayed behind me. At my direction, two soldiers guarded the doors, as much to keep people out as in. Ider and Gildas, I knew, were pacing outside. I had no trouble with Ider’s presence, but Gildas was not welcome.
“Let us understand some things first,” I began. “I will not spare anyone. It is time for all to be known.”
Lauhiir favored me with a greasy, smug smile, believing that his sanctuary excused him of all misdeeds.
“Lord Liguessac!”
He fairly leaped from his seat. “What?”
“Did you kill Elafius because he threatened to reveal your forging operation? Despite being an annoying old man, he was a good man and would have objected to your plan.”
“What forging? What do you mean?”
At that Arthur rose and in two steps had fronted Lauhiir and jerked him about. “Enough, you mongrel! Everyone here knows that you were using the tin mining to aid in your forging of Roman coins. Else you would not be seeking sanctuary with Coroticus. And thanks to Malgwyn, we know that you conspired with Teilo and Dochu and the Scotti to overthrow me.”
I wondered that he did not mention David, and I saw a subtle hint of a question in Lauhiir’s eyes as well.
“Rigotamos,” I said calmly. “It does not matter if Lord Liguessac admits to such. We all know it is true. Elafius discovered in some manner that you were forging coins.” Reaching into my pouch, I extracted the silver denarius I had found on Elafius’s floor. “He had this with him when he died. I suspect you missed this one when you searched his cell for the others.”
Lauhiir shifted uncomfortably. “You have proven nothing.”
“Who else stood to profit from Elafius’s death? Only you. Had he revealed your secret to anyone, it would have meant your death for treason.”
“If that is so, how did I get in and out of the abbey precinct without being seen? Answer that, Master Malgwyn!”
Glancing behind me, I saw that Arthur and Bedevere were both leaning forward. We had all wondered how Gwilym and Lauhiir had gotten past our cordon around the abbey vallum.
I smiled at Lauhiir. “I remember something Lady Rhiannon said to me once, about there being ‘ways.’ Did you have the tunnel dug, Coroticus?” I said, spinning to face the abbot. “Or was it already here?”
“They, Malgwyn, they were already here. Though I will admit to having them widened.”
“What tunnels, Malgwyn? What are you talking about?” Arthur was confused, as well he might be. I had pondered the question deeply. I knew the efficiency of Arthur’s men. I knew that the chances of not just one, but two men avoiding detection while slipping into the abbey precinct were slim at best. But the fact was that both Lauhiir and Gwilym had appeared within the abbey defenses unseen. And a man like Coroticus would not resist the opportunity to either create an escape avenue or to use one already there.
“Where are they?”
Coroticus sighed. “The one that Lauhiir and Gwilym used runs from the chapel well, under the women’s community, and comes out near the spring below Lauhiir’s fort.”
“And the others?”
“The others are none of your business, Malgwyn. I am still abbot here and beholden only to the Christ and his church.”
I heard Arthur grumble behind me, but the abbot was technically right. Although the abbey operated under the sufferance of the local lord and the Rigotamos, it operated under the nominal control of the bishop, in this case, Dubricius.
“Which now brings us to the question of Patrick’s death. I confess that I was utterly and totally confused as to how this fit in with the murder of poor Elafius. Until, that is, I realized that the two were not connected. Elafius was killed to protect the conspiracy against Arthur. Patrick was killed to keep another secret.
Coroticus stood. “This is nonsense, Malgwyn! You must be drunk!”
“Si
t down and be silent, abbot. Or I will disregard your office. I may be one-armed, but I can still throttle you,” I said in a calm, even tone.
Coroticus sat.
“I was convinced that Patrick’s and Elafius’s deaths stemmed from the same cause, until I went to Bannaventa.” As I expected, two pairs of eyebrows rose. “No, we did not advertise that I was going. I garbed myself as ‘Mad Malgwyn,’ and I went in search of answers, answers to an old mystery.”
“What old mystery? Rigotamos, why do you allow him such liberties?”
“Need I remind you, abbot, that it was you who called Malgwyn to this task. And your protestations simply make you look guilty in this affair.” Arthur’s voice was stern, brooking no retort.
“Patrick told me that he had been called to account for a deed he had done as a youth, a deed he had told only to his best friend, a youngster named Tremayne. That would be you, Gwilym.”
The old monachus had remained quiet throughout. Now, he looked only sad. “You have visited my sister, Myndora.”
“Aye, I have. She told me of your friendship with Patrick, of the death of Addiena.”
“He killed Patrick because of some childhood disagreement?” Poor Lauhiir. He really understood so little.
“No. He killed Patrick because he knew that Patrick would recognize him, would recognize him and reveal that Gwilym here has also been known as Agricola, the Pelagian.”
Arthur rose in surprise. Bedevere quickly followed. Rhiannon began to rise, but Gwilym took her arm and guided her back to her seat.
“Patrick’s death was necessary, sad but necessary,” Gwilym said. “He would have stopped me in my quest to continue Pelagius’s mission. I did what I had to do to protect my task. It was, he was, a divine sacrifice, dedicated to the glory of God.”
“No!” Rhiannon cried, clutching Gwilym’s arm. But he pushed her away.
“No, my girl! I have nothing to fear. I am under the abbot’s protection.”
I smiled at that. “It is only natural, Gwilym, for a daughter to wish to protect her father.”
