by Chris Page
Elelendise nodded. “My lord, I won’t deny that the old magus and the tyro star-gazer have had some brief moments of joy at our expense and there may be more, but, as thus far, their victories will be minor, whereas ours will be the last and winning one. As for the safety of the queen and Princess Rawnie I will create something very special to guarantee their complete safety, even against the cowardly rune-lore sorcery of that miserable old man and his novice stripling.”
King Penda raised an eyebrow at her confidence.
“Guarantee?”
“Yes.” Elelendise smiled. “I guarantee that they will not come to any harm.”
“What is this creation that enables you to make such a guarantee?”
The wolf-woman looked at the Christian king for a few moments before answering his question. “I will create the most deadly, dedicated protection device ever seen on this earth. It is unnatural phenomena and cannot be bettered as a killing machine. Its only function on earth is the dedicated protection of the queen and princess, and its presence will be unknown to them for it is invisible to the human eye and will not interfere with their daily life. Even as we speak it is in close attendance and guards their every move. Its presence is permanent. It cannot be destroyed by others, and only I can switch it off.”
“What is this protection device called?”
“A Watcher, my lord. They have their very own Watcher.”
“Would that I had any number of such devices. They could replace my army.”
“It is only possible for me to create and maintain one such device due to the power required to keep it functioning to the maximum of its capability. Just the one acts as a drain upon my own powers. Were it possible to create and maintain even a small platoon of such devices, no human army in the world, however large, well-equipped, and trained, could resist them. It functions only to protect those to whom it has been dedicated. That is the extent of my guarantee.”
The king nodded his satisfaction. “Then, with the protection of this Watcher they shall continue their journey and be with us tomorrow.”
“There is another matter I wish to advise on, my lord.” Gently stroking the dozing white wolf pup’s ears cradled in her arms she awaited for Penda’s approval to continue.
“What is it?”
“Winter is closing rapidly upon us, and we are nearing the marshlands of Summer Land. History has shown it to be the very worst terrain for an army to fight on in winter. Two days’ march from here is a place that will keep your men secure for the winter whilst enabling smaller, lighter, and more maneuverable raiding parties to carry the Christian fight to the pagan Celts throughout the settlements of Wessex.”
“What place?”
“A poorly defended hill fort called Cadbury Castle.”
Penda paused for a moment.
“I have heard of this place, counselor. Wasn’t it something to do with King Arthur?”
“It was, my lord. He called it Camelot.”
The circumstances and numbers of dying mortals were an irrelevance to Tiresias. Humans were expendable; the only concern was that their deaths, sacrifices, or suffering somehow contributed to his amusement or great plan. The more that died the more to inhabit the charnel house of his domain, the hell that was the mists of the cowerers. His ultimate satisfaction would come with their release upon an unsuspecting earth.
His plan had taken a long time to come to fruition. Now that old fool Merlin needed supplanting and everything would be set for the release of the entire population of the raging cowerers from their mists of hell at the next Equinoctial Festival of the Dead.
What would happen then? Even he, a member of the mightiest Presidium of nine principal gods, wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain; it would be the grandest ever spectacle for him and all the other gods and put him in a most favorable light with Zeus for its sheer brilliance and execution.
If, that was, the gods themselves, in all their omnipotence, were safe from the released mists. If not, old orders of immortal dominance would have to change.
Now that was playing with the foundation of the worlds.
Chapter Ten
Merlin and Twilight appeared at the solid wooden drawbridge of the looming Cadbury Castle. The guards on the gate, taken by surprise at their sudden presence, challenged them fiercely with raised spears until the long magus calmed them with an iridescent look and asked them to kindly summon Godwinson.
A few minutes later a tall, flaxen-haired young man with broad shoulders and keen, clear blue eyes strode across the castle keep toward them, buckling on his sword. He stopped with a puzzled look before executing a low bow.
“Your method of arrival and demeanor tells me you are none other than Merlin … the long magus himself,” he said in a strong voice, straightening up. “It is a great honor to meet you at last and welcome you back to Cadbury Castle.”
Merlin bowed in return before looking closely at him.
“You bear a striking resemblance to Sir Gawain Godwinson, your father, when he was no more than twenty winters.”
Godwinson smiled. “Before the many battles that you got him into changed his features somewhat, eh.” He continued. “It is seven winters since his death, paradoxically, considering his fighting life, of old age.”
“He was,” said Merlin quietly, “one of the bravest men I ever met and one fully deserving of a long life. And your mother, the fair Eleanor, what of her?”
The handsome young knight was silent in reflection for a few moments. “She has been gone five winters.”
Godwinson indicated a mound under a small oak tree in a corner of the courtyard.
“They are buried side by side over there …” He paused for a moment. “Although their souls will reside elsewhere, probably in different places. A matter you will no doubt know more about than I.”
Ignoring the remark, which showed an insight and understanding beyond young Godwinson’s years, the long magus dropped his chin to his chest in their memory for a short while before indicating Twilight beside him.
“I come with Twilight, my tyro veneficus. We have much to discuss with you.”
Godwinson nodded an acknowledgment at the boy.
“If it’s about that northern snake Penda and his marauding army and wolf packs then I welcome your presence here. We have heard of his sacking of the settlement at Malmesbury and the torching of the great Savernake. As we speak he is heading this way.”
They walked slowly across the courtyard. All around them men bustled and loaded horses and carts in preparation for leaving.
“You are leaving the castle?” Twilight spoke for the first time.
Gawain Godwinson looked down at him. “We have no choice. Penda has a trained army of many thousands, and we are a mere two hundred and eighty strong. Even the walls of this great fortress cannot hold out for long against those odds. We would be slaughtered within hours.”
They entered the castle through a heavily studded door and into a large hall. The walls were crisscrossed with arms and armor of all sorts and brightly colored battle standards.
Merlin walked around the wall, nodding in recognition at the display of heraldry. He pointed to a bright red and gold standard hanging from a pair of crossed lances.
“The pennant of Colcrin, the Saxon leader against whom Arthur had many battles, most of them victorious. This was taken at the battle of the Castle of Guinnon.”
He walked to the next one, a purple and gold pennant draped over a black shield quartered in silver.
“The battle of the Mountain of Agned against Colcrin’s brother, Baldulf.”
He stopped for a long moment in front of the next one, a pennant of bright silver depicting a fierce bear’s head with bared teeth.
“The pennant of Gillamuri, the Irish Gael king whom Arthur fought twice, once on these shores and once in Ireland. Both times victo
ry was Arthur’s.”
His long, bony finger moved to the next one, a large shield with a blue lightning strike across a white background decorated with yellow stars.
“The shield of Cedric, taken from his dead body at the battle of Caer Fadon.”
Moving around he continued to point at each set of heraldic battle standards.
“The battle of the City of Legions, also known as Caeleon, the battle of Badon Hill, Basingwerk, Caledonia, the River Tribuit, and …” He paused, his finger trembling in the direction of a display given pride of place above a huge open fireplace. It consisted of a mighty sword and lance crossed against a large golden shield quartered with a red cross in the top right alongside a heraldic griffin over a castle and an eagle’s head. “Arthur’s very own insignia and weapons.”
Godwinson nodded at the display and spoke for the first time since they had entered the great hall.
“The sword, as everyone knows thanks to you, was called Excalibur. Arthur called the shield Gwenn and the lance the Spear of Command.”
“And your father fought alongside Arthur at all of those battles?” asked a wide-eyed Twilight.
Godwinson looked down at the boy and then pointed to a huge round oak table in one corner of the hall.
“As did the other eleven knights and the counselor here who sat around that table.”
Twilight walked over to the huge table of circular oak and, brushing his fingers over the high chair backs, slowly walked around the fourteen places.
“The settlement campfires of Wessex abound with the stories of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table,” he whispered reverently. “And this is where they sat?”
Godwinson nodded. The boy turned to Merlin.
“Where was your place?”
The long magus indicated a slightly taller chair than the rest.
“That was Arthur’s seat and mine was here.”
He placed his hands on the chair to the right of Arthur’s. “Sir Galahad sat here.” He carried on around the table, tapping each chair. “Sir Lancelot du Lac, Sir Percivale, Sir Tristam de Lyones, Sir Bedivere, Sir Beoberis, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Safer, Sir Kay, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Brunor le Noir, and, completing the circle next to me, this young man’s father, Sir Gawain Godwinson.”
Twilight’s lips moved as he silently repeated the mighty names of the most famous and courageous knights in all of history.
“King Arthur was very keen on Orders of Chivalry,” said Godwinson. “This Round Table was the highest order, but he established others. Next in line were the Queen’s Knights, followed by the Knights of the Watch, then the Table of Errant Companions, and finally the Table of Less-Valued Knights. He wanted every knight to work his way through each order to the top. He was also known as the Grail King. The Holy Grail is a Christian talisman held in very high esteem. My father and Sir Lancelot were Grail knights,” Godwinson continued reverently.
“Which meant that they bore a special responsibility for the
protection of the Holy Grail.”
Twilight turned to the long magus.
“Were all the knights Christians?”
“On the surface, yes, to please Arthur, who was a devout convert and one of that faith’s most ardent followers, but perhaps deeper down one or two of them held more pagan beliefs.”
Did you subscribe to the Christian faith in those days?
Twilight reverted to direct mind-speech.
I did not, nor any other faith, then as now. That is not to say that a veneficus should be a heretic or neutral on such matters. The holder of the enchantments can worship any faith or sect he or she desires. Most sects, however, particularly those of a Christian persuasion, are concerned with the final destination of the soul. The Wessex veneficus and, no doubt, others in possession of the Equinoctial mandate in other lands know what happens to the soul and therefore do not require a faith to confirm it. That is why I preferred to study the wisdom and learning of the ancient Greeks rather than one of the many religions that abound.
Unaware that the boy and Merlin were conversing in mind-speak the young knight looked boldly at the long magus.
“We get many visitors, some of them from foreign lands. All are seeking the same thing.”
The long magus chuckled. “You mean Grail seekers,” he said. “Still trying to resurrect the old myth that whosoever finds it shall have the power to resurrect Arthur to his former glory. What do you tell such visitors?”
“That the resurrection is a myth, no more or less, and that as far as the present whereabouts of the Grail is concerned, I have absolutely no idea, which is partly the truth. My father always maintained that following Arthur’s death after the battle of Camlan against his cousin Mordred - who also died in the battle and, incidentally, sat at this table before he and Arthur became mortal enemies over the hand of Guinevere and the throne - the whereabouts and safekeeping of the Grail was
vested in one man …”
He looked at Merlin keenly with one eyebrow raised.
“By the three faces of the Celtic Goddess I do believe you mean me!” exclaimed the long magus emphatically. He stroked his beard before adopting a conspiratorial tone. “One of the great mysteries of the Grail is just what is it. Some believe it to be a golden chalice that held drops of blood from the crucified Nazarene, the leader of the Christian sect I told you about earlier. Others believe it to be a casket containing the remains of his wife, Mary Magdalene, and still others take it to be ancient scrolls describing religious history. Due to the enchantments and the ability to spirit things away to places where they will never be found, the resident veneficus of Wessex gets many artifacts, icons, and relics to safeguard. If the Grail is one of these items, you, my little skirmisher, will know all the answers in time.”
He smiled down at the perplexed look on Twilight’s face.
“And I,” said Godwinson, “will never know.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, my young knight. This boy is going to need all the help he can get in the future. Now, enough of such earthshine, we have far more important matters to discuss in the shape of Penda and the wolf-woman. Shall we sit at this famous table and make our plans?”
He pulled out his old chair to the right of Arthur’s. Godwinson took the next chair, which was previously occupied by his father.
“Which one should I sit in?” asked Twilight.
“This one here on my left,” said Merlin, indicating the largest chair of them all.
“King Arthur’s!” exclaimed the boy. “You want me to sit in the famous seat of the mighty battle leader, Dux Bellorum, himself?”
“Of course.” The long magus smiled. “You will be at the heart of the Wessex fight for its Celtic identity for the next eighty-seven years, so you might as well get used to it.”
When, two hours later, Godwinson, the long magus, and the boy emerged from the great hall of Cadbury Castle into the courtyard, a somber sight greeted them. All activity by Godwinson’s men had ceased, and they stood around muttering and gesturing toward the long line of pica perched around the castellations. To them the presence of so many devil birds was an ill omen. At the appearance of their liege-lord the assembled birds showed their right claws in salutation and began to nod their heads and ruffle their feathers.
Taken by surprise Twilight hesitated.
“Odora lupes vis,” whispered Merlin to Godwinson. “I smell the scent of wolves.”
Recovering his composure Twilight returned the salutation. A pair of birds flew down to the ground at his feet, and he went to his knees to receive them.
Taking turns, the birds chitted their story. Thanking them and waving them back, Twilight turned to the long magus with tears streaming down his cheeks.
“The wolf-woman has destroyed forty pairs of pica. She used a false fledgling with its foot caught securely in bramble. Its plaintive c
ries attracted a number of pica pairs to the location. As they tried to free the fledgling they were suddenly swept up into a net. This happened six times in different locations until she had trapped forty pairs.”
“One pair for each of the wolves she lost when we poisoned the carcasses,” said the long magus quietly.
Twilight continued between sobs.
“The nets were taken to the camp and emptied into a larger net. Then, with thousands of soldiers cheering and shouting she released ten wolves led by an old, white-footed pack leader into the net. It was carnage. Unable to fly the birds were torn to pieces.”
The long magus gestured toward the birds lining the castle walls.
“They will be frightened and in need of reassurance. It is at times like this that they really need their liege-lord. I believe you are strong enough to provide the succor they require. Share
their grief, but do not show any fear.”
“I will speak to them now.”
Wiping the tears from his face, the boy walked toward the far end of the castle keep where it was quiet, waving his birds to follow him. With the pica settled on the ground around him, he began to talk in a quiet but firm voice.
Merlin indicated the burial mound of Godwinson’s parents under the small oak tree in the corner of the courtyard.
“That will be desecrated when Penda and the wolf-woman get here. Would you like me to remove it for now and replace it at a later time when this threat has been dealt with?”
Godwinson reflected for a moment.
“Their caskets will be safe?”
“Yes. We will be the only ones who know what has happened to their remains. At the appropriate time the mound with the caskets in it and the tree will be replaced exactly as it is now.”
“Then I would be most grateful for your assistance.”
