Arthur pc-3

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  The rain fell, running down our faces in rivulets. The barbarians seemed not to notice it.

  'Come, let us go where it is dry and we can talk.'

  Aelle gazed at Arthur for a long moment, making up his mind. Then, with a sharp nod, he turned to his men and barked a harsh command in their repulsive tongue. The carles turned as one and hastened away. In a moment, the whole war host began moving back, retreating from the river.

  'We will go to my camp,' Aelle said, and began leading the way.

  The Saecsen camp lay but a short distance away – just a valley and a hill east of the Ouse. We passed through the charred ruins of a small settlement on the way, and that was hard. Cai did not look at the fire-blackened remains, nor did Arthur. But I saw his hands tighten on the reins.

  As I say, a Saecsen camp is a wretched place. They despoil everything they touch – including the earth where they squat. A few crude skin tents and huts made of grass and branches formed a loose circle, in the centre of which burned a fire. The hacked carcasses of butchered cattle and sheep lay on the ground near the fire ring, among the scattered bones of others. The place stank of excrement and refuse.

  The foremost dwelling belonged to Aelle, and he entered it. We dismounted outside, and followed him in. It was a dark, damp, filthy, fetid hole, but it kept the rain off. We sat on the bare earth – Aelle sat on an ox-hide – and waited while a slave fixed torches to the tent poles on either side of Aelle. The slave, I noticed, was Gaulish, but I did not doubt there were Britons among the slaves in Aelle's camp.

  'What have you to say to me?' asked Aelle.

  This is how it began. The Saecsen leader did not deem it necessary to include any advisers in the proceedings. Except for their omen readers, by which they set great store, Saecsen rulers rarely consulted their minions.

  'I have this to say to you, Aelle,' said Arthur, speaking with an easy authority. 'These lands you now hold do not belong to you. They are British lands. You have killed our people and burned our settlements to get them.'

  Aelle frowned defiantly at this, and opened his mouth to speak. But Arthur held up a hand and continued.

  'I could demand your Itfe and the lives of all your people in repayment for the wrong you have done us. I could raise the entire war host of Britain and attack you, and we would win. You would be killed.'

  Aelle's frown deepened to a scowl. 'Others have tried. I am not so easy to kill, I think. Maybe I will kill you.'

  'Perhaps. Perhaps we would both be killed, and all our warriors with us. And then what? Other lords and battlechiefs would rise up against you. The war would continue until there was no one left to fight it.' 'We are ready to fight,' muttered Aelle stubbornly. 'But we do not have to fight,' Arthur said. 'There can be peace between us, and between our people. The bloodshed can end now, and you can keep the land you have taken from us.'

  'How can this be?' asked the Saecsen warily. 'I will grant it,' replied Arthur. 'I will give the land to you in return for your promise.' 'What is this promise?'

  'Your word, your vow never to make war against my people again. That is first,' said Arthur, making a stroke with his finger in the dirt before him. 'Then you must agree to stay on this side of the Ouse water.' He drew another mark, and Aelle watched him. 'And then?'

  Arthur made a third mark, saying, 'And then you must give back those of my people you have taken as slaves.'

  Aelle stared suspiciously at the three marks in the din – as if they were a ruse by which Arthur meant to trick him somehow. 'What if I do not agree?' he said at last. 'Then you will be dead before Beltane.' The Saecsen bristled at this. 'I am not afraid.' 'I am the War Leader of Britain,' Arthur reminded him, 'and I have conquered all who rose against me. I will see this land at peace, Aelle. I offer peace freely from my hand today… tomorrow I will win it with my sword.'

  This was said with such certainty that Aelle accepted it without question. He turned his face and gazed out at the rain for a moment, then rose and went out.

  'We will have our answer soon,' Arthur said. Cai and I looked uncertainly at one another, neither one knowing what to say. The rain pattered down outside, filling the footprints in the mud with water. Our horses stood sodden and forlorn, heads down, manes streaming water.

  'Patience, Brother,' Arthur said. I turned and found him looking at me. 'Have faith. It is God's work we are doing here; he will not see us fail.'

  I nodded, tried to smile, and gave up with a shrug.

  'I wonder if it will rain all day?' muttered Cai.

  'Why should this day be any different from the others?" I said.

  'Take heart,' Arthur told us, 'the rain aids our purpose most excellently. No man likes to fight in the rain, least of all a Saecsen.'

  'That is true,' allowed Cai doubtfully.

  We sat for some time in the tent, and I began to believe that Aelle had forgotten about us. But just as I was about to get up and stretch my legs, there came a commotion from outside the tent. Someone shouted and a crowd gathered. The shout was answered by a low, spitting threat in the barbarian tongue. The clash of steel rang sharp and quick.

  I made to rise, but Arthur pulled me back down. 'Stay. It is not for us to intrude.'

  No, but we craned our necks and peered out through the tent slit. I saw nothing but the backs of the throng gathered round the fire ring. But from the grunts of the combatants and the shattering chime of steel on steel, it was clear to us that a fight was in progress.

  It ended as quickly as it began. And, with much murmuring and muttering – although of approval or disdain, I could not tell – the throng dispersed.

  A moment later Aelle entered the tent once more. He was wet and muddy, and breathing hard. Blood trickled from a vicious-looking scrape on his chest, but he smiled as he settled himself once more on his ox-hide. He gazed at Arthur, and the faintest trace of emotion flickered across his broad features. What it was, I could not tell. Pride? Remorse? Gratitude?

  'It will be as you say,' Aelle said at last.

  'You will not regret this, Aelle,' said Arthur. 'Hold faith with me and I will see that your people suffer no wrong.'

  Just then the tent flap opened and a Saecsen entered with a round shield in his hands. Balanced on the shield were two long horn cups of the kind the barbarians prize. The shield was placed between Arthur and Aelle, and the servant left – only to return a moment later with a haunch of roast meat which he placed beside the cups.

  Aelle lifted a cup and handed it to Arthur. 'Was Hael!' he said. And, taking up his own cup, he dashed down its contents in a single gulp. Arthur drank and then handed the cup to me. I sipped the sour brew and passed the cup to Cai, who forced down the rest.

  Aelle watched this, and grunted. Then he took up his knife and attacked the haunch with vigour, ripping off a great chunk of meat which he gave to Arthur. He carved a second hunk for himself and began to eat, tearing at the meat with his teeth.

  Arthur ate a few bites and passed the meat to me. I did as Arthur had done and then passed the meat to Cai.

  As before, Aelle watched us closely and grunted his approval when we had finished. This was, I understood, some son of ritual. And, now that it was completed, Aelle seemed to soften towards us. He motioned to the cups on the shield, and the servant gathered them and left the tent.

  'We have snared meat and drink together,' Aelle said. 'I will speak the oath you ask.'

  Arthur shook his head. 'I ask no oath of you – only say me this: that you will hold to the peace we have spoken between us.'

  'I will hold to it,' replied Aelle, 'and all my people who are with me.'

  'Good,' said Arthur with a smile. The peace is begun. Let him be damned who breaks it.'

  The Saecsen battlechief appeared puzzled at this. He shook his head slowly. 'What gage will you have?'

  'I ask no gage or pledge. But I give you my trust that you will do all to keep the peace we have made this day.'

  Aelle considered this for a moment, then shook his head. He
rose and beckoned us to follow. We stepped outside and saw a young woman standing in the rain, a sodden pelt wrapped around her slender shoulders. This, we were given to know, was the daughter of Aelle's sister; his nearest kin, and, by Saecsen reckoning, the person he was most beholden to for care and protection.

  'She is Behrta,' said Aelle, summoning the maid to him. 'I give her to you. If I break the peace I have made this day, you will kill her."

  Arthur shook his head slowly. 'By this I know that you value your pledge. There is no need to give me a hostage.'

  But the Saecsen leader remained adamant. 'It is not for me, Wealas; it is for my people.' He indicated the host looking on expectantly. TAey must know the value I have placed on this peace.'

  I understood then what he was saying. The maid was of noble Saecsen blood; she would likely be a queen among her kind one day. By giving her to Arthur, the canny chief was doing what he could to seal the pledge he had made to Arthur.

  Arthur turned to Cai, 'Bring her with us. Put her on my horse.' Cai stepped forward and took the maid by the arm, but gently, and led her to Arthur's mount.

  'Will you come with me to Octa?' said Arthur, turning back to Aelle. 'I seek peace with him as well, under the same terms as I have granted you.'

  Aelle gave his assent. 'I will come to you tomorrow.'

  We climbed onto our horses and turned back upon the path to the river. As we passed from the camp, I saw the naked body of the man Aelle had killed in the short dispute outside the tent. The arm-ring on his right arm marked him for a chieftain. Blood still oozed from the ragged gape in his chest.

  Myrddin stood on the far side of the river, watching for our return. When he saw us crest the hill, he dashed forward into the water and ran to meet us as we came to the ford.

  Arthur threw himself from the saddle with a whoop and caught Myrddin up in a great hug.

  'I have prayed for you every moment until now,' Myrddin told him. Glancing at the maid, he said, 'I need not ask how it went with you – I can see you did well.'

  'She was Aelle's idea,' Arthur said. 'I did not want a hostage, but he would have it no other way. He said it was for his people to know the value of the peace.'

  Myrddin pursed his lips. 'Very shrewd. Yes, I see. And if anything happens to her in your care, he will have cause to break faith with you. His sword cuts both ways.'

  They turned and made to cross the ford. Half-way across, they began to laugh, and the echoes of their laughter set the valley ringing. Oh, they had planned this very carefully, the two of them.

  I watched Arthur and Myrddin, their arms round each other's shoulders, splashing their way across the river and I felt the same giddy relief wash over me. I laughed out loud. Cai stared at me and then he began laughing, too!

  We had done it! We had walked into the lion's den and returned with his beard in our hands. Had anything like this ever happened before?

  More, could it happen again?

  THREE

  Aelle and his carles came to our camp at dawn the next morning, and we departed, moving south along the Ouse. We travelled slowly because the Saecsens walked. They do not like horses and fear them. This made the journey tedious to begin with, and it was made more so by Arthur's decision to stay well away from Londinium.

  But the weather cleared and held good for the while. As before, we camped at the ford of a river – the Stur, this time – and waited for Octa to come to us, which he did in exactly the same way as Aelle had done.

  Octa came with Colgrim, his kinsman, and we met them at the ford – Aelle with us. This caused some distress on the far side of the Stur where Octa and Colgrim stood with their massed warbands. I could see them working on it: what did it mean? Had Aelle joined the enemy? Had they conquered him? But where was the British host?

  Arthur let them take it in and then, as before, rode to the centre of the river and called to them. 'Octa! Colgrim! I want to speak to you!'

  Colgrim conferred with Octa, who answered, 'Why have you come to us like this?' His eyes never left Aelle, who stood with his weapons at his side.

  'I have come to make peace with you.'

  Colgrim and Octa exchanged a puzzled glance. Again, it was Octa who answered, pointing to Aelle, 'Let Aelle go, and we will talk with you.'

  'Aelle is free to come and go as he will.' Arthur lifted a hand to the Saecsen leader, who strode forth across the water to join his kinsmen on the other side. The three stood together, talking for a moment – with much gesturing and pointing in our direction.

  Then Aelle turned and beckoned us to come forward. Arthur dismounted as soon as he set foot on the opposite shore, throwing his reins to Cai. The Saecsens regarded him with keen suspicion – as if this impressive show might somehow suddenly turn into a fatal ambush. Yet the sight of a British battlechief striding purposefully towards them, alone and unarmed, intrigued them. What was this madman doing?

  'I am Arthur,' he told them – just as he had told Aelle. 'I am War Leader of Britain, and I have come to offer peace to you and your people.'

  Colgrim and Octa stared at him, and then at Aelle. They muttered something to Aelle in the Saecsen tongue. Aelle answered them and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, smiling.

  Then, before any of us could think or move, Aelle's hand darted to his belt and a knife Sashed out. Instantly, the knife was at Arthur's throat.

  A trap! Arthur was helpless. Colgrim's hand went to the knife in his belt. Octa hefted up his axe and made to signal the war host.

  But before Octa could cry out – indeed, before Cai or I could lift our hands to lash our horses forward to Arthur's defence – Aelle took the knife and, turning it in his hand, placed the handle in Arthur's hand. Then he raised the knife which Arthur now held and placed the blade over his own heart.

  Naked amazement distorted the faces of the Saecsens. Colgrim and Octa stared as if they had just witnessed a miracle of the highest order. Perhaps they had.

  Then, next thing I knew, the Saecsens were all chattering together at once and they were touching Arthur and pounding him on the back. Apparently, Aelle had accomplished more in that simple act – harrowing though it was – than whole days of coaxing and convincing could have achieved.

  'I thought we were orphans,' I muttered to Cai, wiping my brow. Cai only grunted and rolled his eyes.

  We did sit down and talk to them then. As before, Colgrim and Octa accepted the peace which Arthur offered and then called for food and drink to be brought, whereupon we ate and drank with them – which is how the Saecsen kind like to show peaceful intentions.

  When we had done this, Colgrim rose up and declared – mostly through Octa, who showed some small skill with our tongue – that he would feast the British in honour of the new peace treaty. I could imagine nothing I would enjoy less. Feast with a Saecsen! It could not be done.

  Nevertheless, we did it. Arthur insisted, and Myrddin agreed. 'We must honour the good that they intend,' Myrddin said. 'Sitting next to a Saecsen at the board will not harm you overmuch.'

  'All the same,' grumbled Cai ominously, 'I am bringing my sword.'

  Arthur allowed us our knives, but no swords, lances, or shields. 'It would not look right,' he said.

  Well, I will say that it was not as bad as I feared… It was a good deal worse.

  Think of it! For a start, the Saecsen idea of a feast is simply to heap mounds of badly-cooked meat onto the board and gorge on it until sated, whereupon you are supposed to drink whole butts of their sour beer. And, when everyone is falling-down drunk, they begin wrestling with one another. The two biggest among them pair off and all the others gather round and begin shouting at them, urging them on. The point of it seems to be for one to maim the other for life. They grunt and sweat and yell – all for the privilege of throwing one another into the fire.

  When this display palls, they all fall exhausted onto the ground and one of their bards – or scops, as they are called – comes and begins raising the most horrible din. The Saecsen beat their f
ists on the ground in ecstasy over their scop's small accomplishments. The howling which greets his every word is enough to deafen a stump.

  In short, a Saecsen feast is ghastly beyond belief. But they are barbarians, after all.

  I thought that we would return to Caer Melyn. Having achieved a summer's respite from Saecsen raiding – which is how long I reckoned Arthur's peace would last – I expected Arthur to inform the small kings and await their replies. God's truth, I thought all hell would be loosed upon our heads when the British lords found out what Arthur had done.

  Make peace with the Saecsens? The reason he had been made War Duke was so that he could rid us of them. And what does he do? He embraces them at first opportunity and gives them the land they stole from us.

  So I thought we would go back to Caer Melyn to await the breaking of the storm. But I was wrong. We rode instead for Londinium and boarded a ship bound north for the Orcades. That is, Arthur, Myrddin and I. Pelleas and Cai took the warband back to Caer Melyn to await Bors' return.

  Since we had days aboard ship, and little else to do, I managed to get out of Arthur exactly what he thought he was doing offering peace to Britain's enemies.

  'We have been at war with the Saecsen, Pict, Scot and Irish for three hundred years and more. Think of it, Bedwyr! There has never been a generation to know peace on this island,' Arthur said, as we stood on deck watching the coastline rise and fall with the waves.

  'There has never been a generation to know peace anywhere on this earth, God love you!'

  "That may be true,' he allowed, 'but that does not mean it is not possible. I believe it can happen. But someone has to make a start.'

  'You have made a start, Bear. But do not expect the small kings to shower gifts of gold upon your head. Gifts of steel, perhaps.'

  "The killing must stop. If I must endure the hurt, so be it. I will endure it gladly, and more besides – but the fighting must end.' He smiled thoughtfully. 'It is no less than Our Lord the Christ did for men.'

  I shook my head and looked out across the grey-waved sea, listening to the keen of the gulls following our wake. What Arthur said made a certain sense. But I knew Arthur – knew him, Blessed Saviour! – and I could not believe he was so innocent, so guileless and trusting about this.