'Do you not believe me?' asked Arthur, after a moment. I took my time answering. 'I believe you, Bear. And I pray God you are right, I swear it. But this is not like you.' I turned to find his clear blue eyes gazing at me, mirth drawing up the corners of his mouth. 'You think this is funny? I do not. I tell you it chills me to the marrow.
'Yes, it does! We have given land to our most deadly enemies – something even Vortigern in all his glory never contemplated. Yet we have done this, and asked for nothing but promises in return. Saecsen promises!' I blurted, and fell silent.
'You think me a fool.' Arthur's voice was quiet.
'God love you, Arthur, I know you are no fool. That is why this troubles me so. You are not yourself since you returned from Ynys Avallach.'
Arthur did not reply directly, but turned away to study the far horizon, his face as hard as the rock cliffs in the distance.
'What happened to you at Ynys Avallach?' I asked. I did not know if he would tell me, and at first I thought he would not.
But at last he spread his hands towards the distant shore and said, 'I saw a vision, Bedwyr. I saw a land alive with light. I saw a land blessed of the Living God, where all men lived as kinsmen and brothers. I saw a land – this land, this Britain – at peace under the rule of Justice and Right.
'I saw this, and much else besides. And I vowed to make it true. I have pledged my life to it, Bedwyr. My life is a sacrifice to the Summer Realm, for I am the Lord of Summer.'
What could I say to this? If he saw a vision, he saw a vision. But was this the right way to go about it?
Arthur laughed suddenly. 'So maybe I am a fool after all, eh?'
'God's truth, Bear, I do not know what to think.'
'I will tell you something else, shall I?' he raised his eyebrows and jerked his head back towards the sea cliffs. The north is very far away from the south, you know.'
'Well I know it. We would not be on this leaky tub if it were otherwise.'
He nodded, his mirth turning waggish. 'No one has yet discovered a way to fight the Picts and Angles in the north while the Saecsens raid in the south. Jesu knows that I cannot be in two places at once.'
'Meaning?'
‘He is a strong lord, with many ships and a good warband.
'Meaning?'
'The war will be fought and won in the north. Our freedom will be won in the north, or lost there.'
He saw by the expression on my face that I thought this unlikely. 'You doubt me?' he asked. 'Consider this, then: every invasion has always come from the north. It is the swiftest way into the heart of Britain. The Romans understood this – just as they discovered that it is impossible to defend." He flung a hand to the wavering coast. 'There are ten thousand bays and coves on this sea – and each one a hiding-place for Sea Wolves. They have only to make landfall and the Picti, or their own kind, will welcome them.'
'Aelle and Colgrim attacked the south,' I pointed out.
'Did they?'
'You know that they did.'
'Are you like the others? Think, Bedwyr! How were they able to strike so quickly? How were they able to order their attack so?'
I stared blankly back at him, for I did not know.
'It is too far to come from Saecsland. The sea journey is too difficult – and then to fight at the end of it? It cannot be done. So what did they do? Think, Bedwyr!'
'I am thinking, Artos! What did they do?'
'It is so simple! They made landfall in the north and wintered there. This they were able to do because they had friends waiting for them. They gathered their forces from those who had come before; they amassed ships and weapons and men through the summer. Then, when they were ready, they swept down from the north to attack the brittle defences of the south.' Arthur smiled grimly. 'As I said, the swiftest, surest way to the south is through the north.'
Yes, it was true what he said. I had not thought of it that way before, but I recognized the truth now that he explained it to me. What is more, this was the Arthur I knew and remembered. I told him so.
'You think because I want peace I have lost the craft of war?' He shook his head slowly. 'I have not changed, my friend – not enough anyway.'
'So what are we doing now? What can we accomplish in the north, just the three of us?'
'We are going to hold council with King Lot of Orcady. He is a strong lord, with many ships and a good warband. I would see whether he will support me.'
'Ships? You have horses, now you want ships?'
'I want as many ships as I can get – as many as Lot will give me. Then I mean to build the rest. I want a fleet such as the great Caesar had when he came to the Island of the Mighty.'
'But we cannot fight on ships.'
'Oh yes, we can. And, what we do not know of it, we shall learn. Even if we do not fight with our ships, we must have some way to move horses and men more swiftly than over land. That is too slow, and – '
'I know: the north is very far from the south, and you cannot be in two places at once.'
Arthur grinned and slapped me on the back. 'Well done! I was beginning to think you slow witted.' He rose from the railing and stretched. 'But all this talk has made me thirsty. Let us have some beer.'
I watched him move off along the deck, thinking, Do I know this man, after all? He turned and called, 'Not thirsty?' And, never one to turn away a cup, I hurried after him.
The Orcades are a huddle of bare rocks that poke from the northern sea like the heads and shoulders of drowned giants. They are covered with a green crust of earth, so that the scrawny sheep have something to eat. It is an unlikely place to find a lord of Lot's repute. More a hoarding of small settlements than a realm. Yet the lords of Ynysoedd Erch have ever held their own with a fierce and justifiable pride.
I wondered what our reception would be. Certainly, Lot would welcome an alliance with the south. His position could hardly be comfortable in the best of times – with Picti and Angli between him and the southern lords. But he existed, some said, by trade and friendship with the Angli and Saecsen. Mind, I have never known anyone to make that accusation to Lot's face.
As our ship neared Llyscait, where Lot's stronghold overlooked the deep stone-lined bay, the sun dimmed as it passed behind the clouds. The quick chill off the water made me shiver. But it was not only the cold, I think.
We were met by a small boat which came out to us from the rock-strewn shingle. The boatmen hailed us and called for news. Some of our ship's hands obliged them, and then Myrddin bade them take us to Lord Lot.
This they were happy to do, although it meant that we were made to slither over the side of the ship, to drop inglori-ously into their boat, whereupon they rowed us to shore. As we bumped to a halt on the shingle, there appeared a welcoming party.
'Greetings, and God's blessings be on you, my lords, if you come in peace,' said the foremost among them. His words were gracious, but I saw that those with him wore swords and had long knives tucked into their belts.
'God be good to you,' replied Myrddin, 'peace is our sole ambition.'
'Then may it go well with you while you shelter here among us. Will you greet our king?'
'We would like nothing better. And you can tell Lord Lot that the Duke of Britain has come to hold council with him.'
Lot's adviser cocked his head to one side. 'Are you the Arthur we hear of?'
Myrddin shook his head slowly and put out a hand to the young man beside him. 'This is Arthur.'
The man's expression changed from wary acceptance to astonished disbelief. 'You? You are Arthur?' 'I am,' the Duke answered.
'We have come a long way, and we are tired,' said Myrddin.
The adviser turned at once to Myrddin. 'I am sorry, Emrys. Forgive me, I – 'he began, for he realized at once who Myrddin must be.
'It is of no importance. Please, take us to Lot.' 'At once, Emrys.' The man turned on his heel and we were escorted from the beach and up a long, snaking passageway cut in the rock to a caer walled in stone and surr
ounded by gorse. The gate stood open and we passed through into a small, well-ordered yard.
Lot stood in the centre of the yard, arms crossed on his chest, scowling at three horses standing at halter before him. He turned his head towards us as we entered, and, like his man on the beach, his aspect altered at once – but not entirely for the better.
Although he threw open his arms and embraced Myrddin, I could not help thinking that his greeting was forced. 'Myrddin, you look well. It has been long and long since we last met. You are welcome here.' Lot smiled, but his smile did not touch his coldly distant eyes.
'Thank you, lord,' replied Myrddin. 'Time has been a boon to you. I see you have prospered.'
Lot nodded, but did not reply. Instead, he turned abruptly to Arthur. 'This can only be Duke Arthur, of whom so much is told.' He extended the same chilly greeting to Arthur, then looked to me.
'I am Bedwyr,' I told him. 'God be good to you, lord.'
'Ah, Bedwyr ap Bleddyn of Rheged. We have heard of you, too,' Lot said, and barked an awkward laugh. 'Do not look surprised. We are not so solitary as it seems. The commerce of these little islands rivals that of Londinium itself, I believe. We hear much, and see more that passes unnoticed elsewhere.'
'Much indeed,' I said, 'if you have heard of me.'
These formalities observed, Lot turned his attention once more to the horses, explaining, 'These animals have been sent me from a trader in Monoth. I can find no fault with them. Still, I am not liking what I see.' The king appealed to Arthur, saying, 'Perhaps you can show me what I am missing.'
'I will help if I can,' replied Arthur. He approached the horses and walked around them for a moment, pausing to stroke each one and feel its flesh. I studied them, too, for I knew horses well.
'The two on either side are well enough, if a little light in the hindquarters. They would be swift, but I think they would tire quickly over rough ground. The one in the centre, however, is the one you should choose.'
'Oh? That, to my thinking, is the one least suitable of all.'
'He is young still,' replied Arthur, 'but he will flesh out, given time.'
'See how he stands – as if his legs hurt him,' protested Lot mildly, showing, I thought, a good deal more discernment than he admitted to.
'It is his shoes,* explained Arthur. 'I suspect he was shod just before bringing him here, but the work was hurried, and carelessly done.'
Lot approached the horse, stooped, and lifted a foreleg to examine the hoof. 'It is true,' he said, letting the hoof drop. 'The shoe is too big and the nails are poorly placed. It is a marvel he can stand at all.'
'Have him re-shod properly and you will see a different
animal '
'I commend you, Duke Arthur; you know horses,' said Lot, regarding Arthur carefully. 'Do you know ships as well?'
'I know that ships are faster than horses in reaching the far places where the enemy hides. I know that the Angli and Irish must come here in ships, and can be stopped with ships. I know that the shipwrights of Orcady build the finest ships in the Island of the Mighty.' Arthur paused, and then added with a shrug. 'Beyond this, I confess that I am ignorant of ships. That is why I have come.'
Lot appraised Arthur through narrowed eyes, as if to take his measure against the words he had uttered. Satisfied at last, the king held out a hand towards the hall. 'Come, Duke Arthur, I think that we must talk.'
FOUR
'Not since the Romans have ships been built in Muir Guidan,' said Arthur. 'But the shipyards are still there – I have seen them on the Fiorth near Caer Edyn. The fishermen use them for harbourage in the winter, and occasionally someone will build a boat there.'
Lot nodded, deep in thought. 'If it is as you say, it could be done.' He was silent a goodly while. There is good timber nearby?'
'More than we could ever use were we to build ten thousand ships.'
'My shipwrights would have to return here in winter to repair my own ships.'
'I will see to it, and gladly. What do you say?'
'I say you had better begin finding men to pilot your ships, for Britain will soon have a fleet once more.'
Beaming, Arthur loosed a wild whoop of pleasure, and Lot's normally icy demeanour melted under the sun of Arthur's joy. The king opened his hand towards Myrddin, as if begging the Emrys' blessing on the pact he and Arthur had just made. Myrddin gave his encouragement by way of clapping Lot on the back and saying, 'From the union of two strong lords the defeat of the enemy is enjoined. The Gifting God be praised!'
Lot then called his stewards to bring us drink and serve the meal, even though the sky was still light outside. For indeed, daylight lingers long in the northern isles – sometimes through the night. At midsummer the sun never truly sets at all!
We drank and began talking of where and how the ships could be used most effectively. I noticed Myrddin lay aside his cup, rise, and withdraw from the company. I waited until Myrddin had left the hall and then went out to him.
I found him standing in the centre of the yard, gazing at the vast northern sky. 'What is wrong, Myrddin?' I asked, as I came to stand beside him.
He answered, but did not take his eyes from the cloudless, amber sky. 'Arthur has his ships – or soon will have, and Lot has been won as an ally. What could be wrong?'
'You distrust Lot. Why?' It was merely a guess, notched and let fly. But it struck nearer the mark than I knew.
Myrddin turned his eyes away from searching the heavens and applied the same sharp scrutiny to me. 'I do not know Lot. It is hard for me wholly to trust someone I do not know.'
This I thought a reasonable answer, and true – as far as it went. But I knew Myrddin. There was more to it than that. 'He has troubled you in the past,' I said. Another guess.
'Troubled me?' Myrddin began to walk towards the fortress gate, which still stood open. I fell into step beside him. 'No, not that. But he has often confused me. You will have heard it told, I suppose, that few kings supported me for the High Kingship. It is true; only a very few. But Lot was one of them. And him with less reason than any of the others… That perplexed me – as it does to this day.'
'You suspect treachery?'
'I suspect… ' He stopped as we walked past the gates and down the track towards the sea. Upon reaching the rock shingle he stood gazing out at the dusky sea. The waves lapped at the rocks and the air smelled of salt and rotting seaweed. We stood together for a long while, and then Myrddin swung his golden gaze to me. 'You have a brain in your head,' he told me. 'What do you make of Lot? Do you trust him?'
Now it was my turn to be silent for a spell. Did I trust Lot? What did I make of him? I weighed the scant evidence for and against him in my mind. I tried to be fair.
'Well?'
'It seems to me,' I began slowly, 'that Lord Lot is unused to having people enjoy his company. He is tolerated, perhaps, and obeyed, certainly – he is king, after all. But he is not loved. Likely, he has no friends at all.'
Myrddin nodded. 'Why is this, do you think?'
Living in Orcady was part of it. Remote, isolated from the rest of the world, cut off by the sea and the barren northern wastes, it was difficult to maintain friendships and alliances with the noble houses of the south. For this reason, and others, the southern lords remained suspicious. Northerners were held in little regard in the south; they were thought to be backward, coarse and low. Little better than Picts, if no worse.
From what I had seen of Lot and his men, they were none of these things; they were simply different. Yet, despite their differences, just as civil and refined as any southern lord and his tribe. But living on their barren, sea-surrounded rocks made them severe, in the same way their limited contact with the south made them wary and brusque – always expecting the veiled insult, and finding it, whether intended or not.
These things I thought, and told to Myrddin. 'King Lot has no friends,' I concluded, 'because he suspects everyone of trying to do him harm. No, it is not guile at work in him – it is
suspicion.'
'Suspicion, yes. And there is something else: pride.'
'Suspicion and pride,' I said, 'two dogs that lie uneasily together.'
'Indeed,' said Myrddin, 'and neither one to be crossed.'
At last I thought I had discovered what Myrddin was worrying about. 'But that is not why I am uneasy,' he said.
'No?' Myrddin always does this. Just when you think you have cracked one hard nut, he pulls another from his pocket, tougher than the last. 'What else, then?'
'In truth, Bedwyr, it has little to do with Lot, and yet everything to do with him.'
That is something else he does: mutters in obscure riddles. Myrddin dearly loves enigma and paradox.
'Nothing and everything,' I observed sourly. 'We will be here all night.'
'It is Lot's father – rather, it is his father's wife.'
'Lot's mother, you mean?'
'Did I say that? No. I said Lot's father's wife. King Loth had two wives. The first was Lot's mother and she died. Loth's second wife was a woman named Morgian.'
'Speak plainly, Myrddin. Who or what is this Morgian to us?' Indeed, in all the time I had known him, I had never heard the name pass his lips. But then, there was much about Myrddin that no one knew.
Myrddin did not answer. Instead, he asked, 'Do you know why men call these islands Ynysoedd Erch – the Islands of Fear?'
I looked around at the forbidding rocks and the shadowy fortress rising above the sea. The Orcades were a forlorn and lonely place. Certainly, that was reason enough for such a name, and I told him so.
'No. It is because of her, Morgian, Queen of Air and Darkness.'
Now, I am a man who does not shrink from much. But I have always found it disturbing to invoke evil, even in jest. So, when Myrddin spoke that name, I felt a chill quaver in the air as if rising suddenly from the sea. But it was not sea air that sent the flesh creeping upon my scalp.
'You know her?'
Arthur pc-3 Page 18
