Kingdom of Summer

by Gillian Bradshaw

  SIX

  Gwalchmai was eager to reach Camlann, and from Maeldyfi wanted to press on as far as Ynys Witrin, a good fifty miles. At Ynys Witrin we could claim hospitality from the local lord, who would be bound to offer it freely to the Pendragon’s nephew. But Llwyd was tired, and could not go fast, and the distance was too great—or so I said—and we eventually spent the night at a farm some ten miles south of Baddon. The farmer was a hard bargainer, unwilling to accept any of our goods until Gwalchmai took the gold-worked headstall from Ceincaled’s bridle. Then he began to offer us more than we needed, eager for more gold. I took two bronze armlets and a silver ring in change (a better bargain than the other hoped for), and Gwalchmai knotted a rope to improvise a headstall, though he was not pleased with it. He would sooner have sold all his own gear than have touched the horse’s.

  The next day we rode on to Camlann, arriving at the fortress just after noon. At mid-morning we turned from the Roman road onto the raised track that goes through Ynys Witrin and the marshes, and made good speed towards the irregular hills that fill the horizon. The land about us was well settled, clear of forest, and the fields were well tended. It was another bright, clear day, and sheep and cattle were out in the pastures, giving the land a cheerful, inhabited look welcome after the long road and the forest. As we went west, Camlann slowly resolved itself from the surrounding hills, seeming to grow taller as we approached it. Gwalchmai urged his horse to a trot, then to a canter, and the stallion ran with a light step and pricked-up ears. He knew well enough where he was going. Llwyd had no such eagerness, but he followed the other horse. He had grown used to doing that.

  The feast hall showed clear against the sky, crowning the great hill. Only after I had noticed that did I discern the walls and the ring and bank defenses of the fortress. But the walls were large enough when we came to them, and had been strongly re-fortified, unlike the walls of any town I had ever seen. The gate we approached was also new, with a single guard tower set above it, and it was made of oak and iron. But it opened before we reached it, and Gwalchmai reined in just inside it to greet the guards, while his stallion danced in eagerness to be properly home. I drew in Llwyd, who was sweating from his run. Both the guards posted there came down from the guard tower and began shouting to Gwalchmai.

  “A hundred thousand welcomes home!” said one of them. “Man, we were wondering who we could send out to avenge your death. Your brother said no, it was like you to go traveling in winter—but he was the readiest of all of us to begin any revenging.”

  Gwalchmai laughed. “Was he? That is like my brother. He is well? And my lord Arthur? And the Queen?”

  Yes, yes, they were all well, and there was news, and certain things had happened so, and Cei had said to Agravain—“But you will hear all this soon enough,” the guard interrupted himself. “And it is a cold day to stand about talking. I will see you at the feast tonight.”

  “Is there a feast tonight?”

  “There will be now. There’s been no excuse for one these two weeks. Oh, and who is this fellow with you?”

  “My servant. Rhys ap Sion.”

  The guard cocked one eyebrow and looked at me as though I were someone’s new horse. “Gwalchmai the Golden-tongued has taken a servant? Do you plan to stay in one place, then?”

  Gwalchmai simply laughed. I was ready to tell the guard that the job was not mine, and that I was to find another master in Camlann, but the man went on, “Good for you, servant, and good luck! I hope you like to travel.”

  Gwalchmai laughed again, wished the guard a happy watch, and started Ceincaled off up the steep hill at a canter.

  Camlann is a huge fortress. There are seven hundred men in Arthur’s Family; about four hundred of these sleep in the feast hall, while the rest have houses inside the fortress. Some of the men are married and have their families at Camlann. Besides these warriors, the servants and their families make their homes in the fortress, and the doctors, smiths, carpenters and masons, the grooms and the trainers and breeders of horses, and all the tradesmen who have settled in the fortress. There is also some farming done, since a number of cattle are pastured in the fields around, with flocks of sheep, while some pigs and chickens are kept in Camlann itself, and vegetables are grown there, but the rest of the food—all the grain, and much of the meat—has to be purchased. A fortress that size requires a great deal of grain, and warhorses must eat more grain in great amounts; it takes a good deal of care to keep the food coming in. There must be wealth, and a safe market, so that people can bring their goods in. There must be a steady flow of tribute from the other kings of Britain, who in turn take tribute from the clans subject to themselves, and this requires civil peace enforced by the authority and power of the Emperor. But this power and authority and peace existed, and Camlann was not only huge, but thriving. I looked at the people we passed as we rode up the hill. A girl stepped carefully through the snow, carrying a basket of eggs; some boys ran by hurling snowballs at one another with savage war cries; a man chopped wood; two women stood in a doorway, gossiping. Most of them waved or yelled at us cheerfully, and I thought of the dreariness and bitterness of Caer Ceri and Caer Gloeu, and knew that I was right, after all, to come to Camlann.

  The stables at Camlann adjoin the feast hall, and it was to these that we rode first. Gwalchmai was again greeted with delight. There was a great deal of pounding one another on the back and joking when we dismounted. I did not know anyone, and everyone was too busy to pay attention to me, so I hung about, smiling to show that I sympathized with homecomings.

  Gwalchmai handed Ceincaled’s bridle to one of the grooms, saying, “You can see to him just this once, Celli. I wish to go to greet my lord and my brothers. He has had some grain already this morning, but I have used him hard, these months, and more would not harm him. Ach, but you know your business—but he needs a new headstall, a good one, if there is one about.”

  The groom took the horse’s bridle as though it were set with diamonds, grinning. Gwalchmai caught up the saddle-bags and slung them over his shoulders, so I hastened to do the same with my gear. I stood for a moment, holding Llwyd’s bridle and trying to think what to do with my mount, and then Gwalchmai remembered my existence, and again explained me as “Rhys ap Sion. My servant.” I received more curious stares, but someone took my horse. Gwalchmai strode from the stable with a quick, eager step, limping only a little, and I had half to run to keep up with him, for all that he was carrying his spears and shield as well as his luggage, and wearing a mail-coat, which is no light burden.

  The Hall at Camlann is high-roofed, and the swallows nest under the eaves in summer. Torches set in brackets along the walls burn even in the daytime, and in winter the fires in the hearth-pits down the center of the Hall keep the place warm. It is always half-light, and usually glitters, since it is full of whitewashed shields hung against the wall, and spears, and warriors wearing jewelry. When we arrived the place was half full of men playing some board game or knucklebones, talking or listening to a harper. It had that sleepy, comfortable air peculiar to winter afternoons. No one really noticed us as we came in. Gwalchmai set his saddle-bags down by the door and leaned his spears carefully upright beside them. As he was unstrapping his shield, someone looked over, then leapt up crying, “Gwalchmai!” and at once the whole place was up and crowding around us.

  The enthusiasm of the welcome we had had from the guards and the grooms began to look rather dim. A few greetings stood out from the crowd here, however. One tall man with hot gold hair and beard and hot blue eyes thrust his way through the other warriors and flung his arms about Gwalchmai, shouting in Irish. My lord hugged him back, and began speaking in the same language. The one word I caught was the name “Agravain,” and I realized that this must be his brother. The two did not look very much alike. From what I had heard, they did not act much alike, either, and Agravain was renowned as an infantry fighter.

&
nbsp; While Gwalchmai jabbered away at his brother in Irish, I hung about at the door, smiling to show that I still sympathized with homecomings, though in fact I was getting a bit tired of them, and wondering whether anyone would offer us food, which we’d had none of since dawn. After a little, I noticed a slight, dark, serious-looking man watching me. He was quietly dressed, only a silver chain around his neck proclaiming high rank for him. I smiled, and he smiled back and stepped over to join me.

  “Greetings,” he said, courteously. “Are you looking for someone, man?”

  “Not yet, Lord. I am Gwalchmai ap Lot’s new servant, and I am waiting for him to finish greeting everyone.”

  The man looked at me with interest. “Gwalchmai’s servant. That is very unexpected, for Gwalchmai.”

  “So I have been hearing. Actually, Lord, I’m only temporarily his servant. He said that he would find me a place at Camlann when I asked him to bring me here.”

  “You asked him?”

  I found myself grinning. “Well, Lord, he was staying with my family, so I seized the opportunity. I have wanted to come here.”

  “Indeed,” began the other, and would have asked something more, when Gwalchmai broke out of the crowd to clasp my companion’s arm.

  “Bedwyr,” he said, “here you are, then. How is it with you?”

  I stared at the man, trying to believe he was who he must be. Sure enough, his shield hand was missing at the wrist. Bedwyr, the man whom the Emperor had appointed his warleader after he had been his cavalry commander for years, his closest counselor. I had not pictured him so plain and quiet.

  He smiled at Gwalchmai, a deep, glad smile that filled his eyes. “It is well. Camlann is much the same. But how is it with you? Did you find what you were seeking?”

  My lord’s smile stopped, and he shook his head. “Not yet. It must be tried again.”

  Bedwyr gave him a considering look. “Then see that it is tried in summer. This winter quest has worn you, I think.”

  Gwalchmai laughed. “It is just being away from home. Where is my lord Arthur?”

  “In his room, talking to a messenger from Gaul about the situation there, and about trade. If you wish to see him, it is not an urgent meeting.”

  “I will wait for him. Where is Cei, then?”

  “Out hunting. He has been bored.”

  “I imagine. No one to fight.”

  Agravain pushed back through the crowd to Gwalchmai and caught his elbow. “Since you will wait for Arthur, come have some wine with us and tell us where you have been.” He swept his brother off towards the nearest table, calling for the wine. Bedwyr, however, looked back to me.

  “Why did you wish to come here, then, Gwalchmai’s servant?” he asked.

  I looked at him, quiet and calm and paying attention to me, and blurted out, “Lord, I wished to serve the Light.”

  He nodded, thoughtfully. “A very good reason. Welcome to Camlann, then.” He turned and strolled over to the table where Gwalchmai was now seated with a glass of wine and a ring of friends, being talked to by his brother. I followed, hesitantly. Gwalchmai looked up to welcome Bedwyr, then noticed me and set his glass down hurriedly.

  “Rhys! I had forgotten you. Agravain, this is my new servant, Rhys ap Sion.”

  “A servant?” Agravain looked at me fiercely. “Good. I’ve told you for years that you needed one. Can he look after horses?”

  “I will not let him look after Ceincaled,” said Gwalchmai, smiling. “No one will do that but I myself, whether or not it is dignified. But Rhys is a clever man, mo chara. He outbargains townsmen and leaves them cursing and admiring the astuteness and business sense of the Pendragon’s warriors.”

  “Mistakenly, in your case.” But the other seemed pleased at the thought of outbargained townsmen. “Well, servant, go fetch your lord some food.”

  I looked around, wondering which way to go to do this, and why Agravain should be the one to tell me to, but Gwalchmai whipped his feet off the bench and exclaimed, “Ach, no. Come here, Rhys, and have some wine. Agravain, he’s done a fair piece of riding, and that in bad weather, since he joined me. And he has never been to Camlann before; is he to go running about now?”

  Agravain shrugged, bellowed for someone else to fetch the food, and I, after hesitating and looking around to the lord Bedwyr, came and sat down on the bench at Gwalchmai’s left, feeling very out of place. A thin, long-faced warrior handed me a glass goblet of wine, and Agravain began talking again about what all the warriors in the Family had done since his brother left. I held the goblet gingerly, looking at it. Glass, like wine, is a great luxury, and neither are made much in Britain these days. The goblet was blue-green, with a sheen over its surface, and the red wine glinted through it with a purple color. I sipped the stuff very carefully, trying to decide whether I liked it or not. I had never had any before, except for a little at Mass, and that had not been heated with spice and honey.

  Agravain and the other warriors went on talking, prompted by eager questions from Gwalchmai. A servant came and set a platter of meat and bread before my lord; he broke off one edge of the bread, stabbed a bit of meat with his knife, and pushed the platter in my direction, nodding to what someone was saying. I glanced around, saw that no one was paying the slightest attention to me, and began eating. The meat was broiled venison, richer fare than I was used to, and very good.

  After a while, Gwalchmai told his friends a little about his own journey. Most of it concerned his embassy to Caledon, and he managed to describe his wandering in search of Elidan very briefly and without mentioning the girl. But he did speak of my father. He had had a fight with some bandits, he said, and this had made him decide to seek shelter for the night. Before that, apparently, he had been sleeping in the open, and he would probably have continued to do so if I had not been there to be horrified at the hardship of sleeping in stables. “So I went off through the forest, thinking that it would be safer if I reached Dumnonia, and by chance I found Rhys here by a ford. I had met his father before and found him a good man, so I stayed five days at the holding. They saw to it that my horse was shod, my cloak mended, and gave me such hospitality as travelers pray for, and Sion ap Rhys refused any payment, though I offered it him again and again.” This brought looks of astonishment. “He is a man as generous as a king, and more generous than a king like Maelgwn.”

  Agravain gave a snort at that. “So you asked his son as a servant?”

  Gwalchmai looked at me and smiled, as at a secret joke. “Not so. His son asked me as a lord.”

  “That sounds more like you,” Agravain commented, scowling. But his eyes rested on his brother with delighted pride. I wondered if Dafydd would look at me that way if I came home, and shivered.

  “And you will treat your servant the same way you treat your horse,” Agravain concluded.

  “I hope not. Rhys is not overfond of oats, even in porridge.” Gwalchmai grinned at me.

  Agravain shook his head and began to go on, and I was anxious for him to explain his remark, but just then someone at the front of the Hall shouted, “Gwalchmai!”, and my lord nearly tipped the bench over in his haste to get up.

  “My lord,” said Gwalchmai. He went up the center of the Hall, half running, to meet the man who had just entered it. When they met, the other clasped Gwalchmai’s forearm, and Gwalchmai caught his hand, kissed it and pressed it to his forehead.

  “Good indeed,” said the newcomer. “A hundred thousand welcomes home, at long last. We have expected you since Christmas; where have you been? If you have told the others already, you will have to repeat it to me. Macsen”—to a servant—“we must have a feast tonight. Go tell my lady that the lord Gwalchmai is back, and ask her to prepare it. And see if you can find Taliesin, and ask him whether he’s finished that epic he was working on.” And to Gwalchmai, “Did you find what you were seeking?
”

  Gwalchmai shook his head, “It was a cold trail that vanished in the mountains of Arfon, a word I could not find again, and a bitter search after it. My lord, it is good to be home.”

  “And yet, you will search again.” The voice was quiet, creating privacy in a public place, and not questioning.

  “By your leave, my lord.”

  “If you must. But not in winter, and not alone.”

  At this, Gwalchmai smiled, “If you are concerned that I traveled alone, my lord, it will please you to know I have found a servant.”

  I had stood up as soon as I had heard Gwalchmai call the other “my lord,” and when the man followed Gwalchmai’s gesture and looked at me, I did my best to bow. I was not very skillful at it. The other looked at me appraisingly, and I looked at him. He was tall, of average build, with light blond hair beginning to gray at the temples, and he wore his beard cropped close to the jawline, in the old Roman fashion. He had gray eyes, wide-set, and the kind of stare that seems to look beyond what it is fixed on. He wore a gold collar about his neck, and his cloak was of the imperial purple. But he did not require the purple to proclaim him Emperor and Pendragon of Britain. He was the kind of man so accustomed to command that it is unconscious, the sort of man men obey without thinking.

  “You are Gwalchmai’s servant?” Arthur asked me. “What is your name, man?”

  “Rhys ap Sion, Great Lord, of the clan of Huw ap Celyn.”

  “The clan of Huw ap Celyn. You live in Dumnonia, do you not? Up by Mor Hafren?”

  “I…yes, Great Lord.” I was astonished that he should know. Arthur smiled, a quick instant of pleasure at my astonishment.