I pondered this. The fire crackled in the hearth as the pine knots popped and scattered sparks at our feet. Had I lost my way? Was this the source of my confusion? Until just now I had never doubted…
'No,' I answered at length, 'I have not lost my way – it is just that so many ways open before me that sometimes I hardly know which way to choose. To decide for one is to decide against another. I never imagined it would be this hard.'
'Now you know,' Dafyd said gently. 'The higher a man's call and vision, the more choices are given him. This is our work in creation: to decide. And what we decide is woven into the thread of time and being for ever. Choose wisely, then, but you must choose.'
Great Light, help me! I am blind without you.
'Well, I have said enough,' Dafyd said, settling back once more. 'You were telling me about the High King.'
'Aurelius, yes; he is High King, although he has yet to take the throne. I do not know how Vortigern received his kingship, but in elder times the chieftain would be blessed by the clan's druid, and I thought… '
'You wish me to consecrate this king as I consecrated you?' Dafyd saw the implications of this at once, and the idea delighted him. 'Myrddin, you are a far-thinking man,' he said approvingly. 'Of course, I will be your druid. Although you could do it yourself just as well. When will he come here?'
'He is going to Londinium,' I replied. 'It is where his father was crowned.'
'There is a church in Londinium, and a bishop – Urbanus, I know him well, a zealous servant of our Lord.'
'He will serve most admirably, no doubt,' I said lamely.
He read my expression. 'But as Aurelius will require the continued support of the western kings, it might help to bolster that support with well-placed pride. Tewdrig would feel better if his own bishop consecrated this new king.'
'And not Tewdrig only.'
'Yes, I see that and I agree. Very well, we will go to him and do what we can to give him a proper kingmaking. Is Aurelius a Christian?'
'He is willing.'
That is half the battle. As Jesu himself said, "He who is not against us, is for us." Eh? If Aurelius is not against us, we will go to him. And I will enjoy the journey. Urbanus will not mind my coming; he will take account of my years and yield this favour to me.'
"Thank you, Dafyd.'
He rose slowly and came to me. He placed his hands on my head. 'In my heart I have long carried you, most beloved son. But the time is soon coming when you must go your way alone. Be strong, Myrddin. Be the hope of our hope. The people will look to you, they will believe and follow you – though I fear the church will not love you for it. But remember the church is only men, and men can become jealous of another's favour. Do not hate them for it.'
He took my hands and raised me from my chair. 'Kneel,' he said, 'and let an old man give you his blessing.'
I knelt before him on the hearth, and Dafyd, Bishop of Llandaff, renewed the blessing he had given me long ago.
SEVEN
Londinium had changed much with the years. Never more than a wide space on the Thamesis River, a scattering of mud and wattle huts and cattle enclosures, it was nevertheless chosen by the Romans for their principal city, for the simple fact that the river was deep enough to allow their troop ships to come inland, yet shallow enough to cross without undue difficulty. For generations Londinium's greatest glory remained the enormous docks built by the Roman engineers and maintained, with greater or lesser zeal, ever since.
Though the troop ships eventually ceased, the city remained the centre of Imperial power in the island, in time acquiring not only a fortress, which was all of Londinium in the early years, but a governor's residence, a stadium, baths, temples, markets, warehouses, public buildings of various types, an arena, and a theatre – in addition to its massive docks. In later years a stone wall was put up round the whole, but by then the city was a sprawling, brawling monstrosity of crowded streets and close-built houses, inns, and tradesmen's shops.
The governor's residence became a palace, a forum was added and a basilica, and the future of Londinium was secure. Henceforth, any Briton wishing to impress Mother Rome had first to win Londinium in one way or another. In short, Londinium, to the Britons, was Rome. Certainly, it was as close to Rome as many a Celtic citizen ever came. And for this reason, if for no other, Londinium, despite the filth and noise and squalor, basked in the golden sunset that was Rome and remained ever glorious.
To Londinium Constantine had come as Emperor of the West, first High King of the Britons. Therefore, to Londinium Aurelius had come to receive the crown of his father, identifying himself with his father – and, through Constantine, with Rome.
This was wise as it was necessary: there were still many men of position and influence who considered allegiance to and membership in the Empire essential for the proper ruling of Britain. That raw circumstance had far outstripped this archaic requisite could never have occurred to these men. They were cast of an older mould: civilized, refined, urbane. That Rome itself had become little more than a provincial backwater, its once-proud residences slums, its noble Colosseum a charnal house, its stately Senate a gathering place of jackals, its imperial palace a brothel – all this made not a whisker of a difference.
As I have said, the men who believed this way were powerful men and any High King who would own the title along with the crown had to be recognized by the staunch sophisticates of Londinium – or for ever be considered a usurper, or worse, and thus be denied Londinium's considerable resources.
Aurelius understood this; Vortigern never had. More's the pity. For if Vortigern had won Londinium he might never have been forced to the awful exigency of embracing Hengist and his horde. But Vortigern was proud. He vainly supposed that he could rule without Londinium's blessing.
True, Londinium considered itself above the petty affairs of Britain. Or, put another way, the concerns of Londinium were the only legitimate concerns of Britain. Flawed as this outlook was, Vortigern ignored it to his peril, and to the ultimate peril of Britain.
Fools! Drowning in their folly. Raving on about Empire and Pax Romana while the tattered remnants of that Empire crumbled around them, and peace became a hollow word. Empty-headed men playing at politics, while the world rushed headlong to its ruin.
Be that as it may, Aurelius had no intention of repeating Vortigern's mistake. He would proceed with the formalities; he would woo the pride-bound citizens of vain-glorious Londinium. In return, he would receive its blessing, and then he could get on with the work of saving the realm.
Sympathy held with Vortigern, but intelligence recognized Aurelius.
So it was that Dafyd, Gwythelyn, Pelleas and I, along with a small escort of monks, came to Londinium. Our trip was speedy and uneventful – which is to say we travelled unmolested through a countryside quickly forgetting terror in its need to gather in the harvest. It was a beautiful harvest time – sun-warmed days and crisp nights. In the morning we awoke to steaming streams and heavy dew; at night we sat before crackling fires with the scent of burning leaves in our nostrils.
Dafyd continued in good health. Though it had been, by Gwythelyn's estimation, a good few years since the bishop had sat a horse, Dafyd gave no indication of discomfort. He rode when we rode and rested when we rested and did not complain. Although I was careful not to overtax him, he seemed wholly unaffected by the journey, remarking often how he enjoyed viewing the wider landscape once more.
We sang, we talked, we discussed and debated – and the distance between Llandaff and Londinium shrank by happy degrees.
It was nearing midday, on a day that had begun overcast with grey clouds of mist that had burned off in time to a bright white haze. Londinium, or Caer Lundein as some now called it, lay squalid before us in its shallow bowl beside the snaking river. A pall of turbid smoke hung grey and drab over the vast expanse, and even from a distance we could smell the fetid reek of the place. Too many people, too many competing desires. My spirit recoiled within me
.
There is a church here,' Dafyd reminded me. 'And many good Christians. Where there is great Darkness, the need for the Light is greater also, remember.'
Well, Londinium had need of its church and bishop. Nevertheless, we all took a last deep breath before riding on. At the massive iron gate to the city we were challenged. For •no good reason, it seemed to me. The dolts manning the gate could see we were not Saecsen marauders!
But it is a mark of the arrogance of the place that it deemed all men suspect who were not already within its walls. In the end, we were admitted and allowed to proceed about our business.
The streets were thronged with people and livestock – apparently wandering at will through the city. The din was horrific. Tradesmen hawked their wares in a most unbecoming manner, cattle bawled, dogs barked, beggars chanted, painted women offered themselves for our pleasure. On every hand were men wrangling, shouting, fighting, and contending in any of a thousand different ways in stone-paved streets befouled with garbage and dung.
'If I lived in this place,' remarked Pelleas loudly, 'I should be deaf before winter.'
'If you were not dead first!' Gwythelyn added grimly, speaking my thoughts also.
The place was unspeakable, but possessed of a perverse energy which did not fail to arouse. Londinium was a realm unto itself, and I began to sense something of its deadly allure. Weak men would succumb without struggle to its charms and enchantments; stronger men would be won by the grand and imposing prospect of power. Even wary souls might stumble and fall to their ruin – not for lack of vigilance perhaps, but for lack of fortitude. The Enemy possessed so many wiles and weapons here that all but the most powerful must eventually be overwhelmed in one way or another.
As yet, I saw no evidence of the Light Dafyd proclaimed, and wondered whether he was mistaken after all – even though I know the Light is ever found in the most unlikely places.
Dafyd alone did not seem to mind the stink and noise. He turned a beatific countenance on one and all, passing with the peculiar grace of a saint moving through a shadow-bound world that neither recognizes nor comprehends its true masters.
Perhaps it was myself who did not recognize or comprehend. I admit I have never loved cities – living most of my life, as it happens, close to sun and wind, rock and water, leaf and branch, earth and sky and sea and hill. It was difficult for me to apprehend the subtle expressions of goodness that Dafyd seemed to find. Or maybe I lacked the generosity of forgiveness that he possessed.
We rode directly to the governor's palace – an imposing edifice rising above the tallest rooftops of the city in columned splendour, albeit a splendour now much faded. There we hoped to find Aurelius.
Instead we found a mob.
If the confusion we had thus far encountered was set all on one side, it would not equal the chaos that met us as we rode into the inner courtyard of the palace: a red-tiled square choked with angry men. Many were dressed in an archaic way, affecting Roman garb and appearance. They were calling for the governor to come out into the courtyard to speak to them about some matter, the nature of which we could not discern.
A balcony overlooked the courtyard, and it was to this that the mob addressed itself. But the balcony was empty and the door leading to it remained closed. Aurelius was nowhere to be seen, of course, nor any trace of his army.
'What shall we do, lord?' asked Pelleas. 'I believe there will be a riot here soon. My lord…?'
I heard Pelleas, but I could make no answer. My limbs stiffened as if with sudden and inexplicable cold. The looming violence of the mob held me fast and their cries bound me fast. I could not move or speak, for a powerful awen had seized me.
The bawl of the mob rang in the enclosed courtyard, and their voices became a single voice; a great universal voice sounding a single word: Arthur!… Arthur!… ARTHUR!
I turned my eyes to the sky and saw an enormous purple cloud spreading over the city – it seemed to me an imperial cloak rippling in the wind of an oncoming storm, a cloak much worn and ragged.
When I looked again the people were gone and the courtyard was empty. Dry leaves blew across the weed-grown spaces. The roof of the palace had collapsed and its tiles lay broken and scattered on the ground. The wind whispered in the forsaken places… Arthur… Arthur…
A woman appeared, wearing a long, white garment of the kind highborn ladies are often buried in. Her skin had the pallor of death, and her eyes were sunken and red-rimmed, as if from sickness or mourning.
But she came purposefully towards me over the cracked pavement, the wind whipping her long garment against her legs, blowing her black tresses before her face. She raised her arms to me and I saw she held something in her hands – a magnificent sword, broken now, sundered by a mighty stroke. The ruined weapon dripped blood.
The raven-haired woman approached and held the broken blade to me. 'Save us, Merlin,' she whispered, her voice raw with sorrow. 'Heal us.'
I reached for the sword, but she let it fall from her hands and it clattered on the tiles. I saw in its pommel the Imperial jewel – the eagle-carved amethyst of Magnus Maximus.
The awen passed. I felt a touch on my arm and found that I could move once more. I turned. Pelleas was staring at me, his brow wrinkled in concern. 'Lord Myrddin?'
I passed a hand before my eyes. 'What is it, Pelleas?'
'Are you well? I said mat I think there will be a riot here soon.'
'Nothing we do will prevent that,' I said, glancing quickly around. The mob still stood before us and their shouts were growing louder and more angry. 'I think that if we hope to find Aurelius, we must search elsewhere.'
'If not the palace,' Dafyd said, 'then the church.'
'Let us go there in any case,' Gwythelyn urged. The monks with us voiced their approval. Although they were holy men, most were trained warriors and could handle themselves in a fight if it came to that. Naturally, they preferred to avoid confrontation hi any but the most needful circumstance, hence they were eager to leave the governor's palace for the quiet of the church.
'Very well,' I agreed. 'If he is not there, at least we may have some word of him."
The church was not far from the palace as it turned out, but we had to ask several passers-by where it was before we found it, for no one seemed to know. It was not a large structure, but large enough to serve, and surrounded by a goodly-sized plot of ground which was planted with trees – plum and apple, mostly, and a few pear. The mud-and-timber building was washed white with lime, so that it fairly sparkled in the sun. An inviting place, but much at odds with its surroundings, which crowded in as if lusting after its comely green plot. The church appeared distinctly out of place.
As much out of place were the ranks of horses, and the warriors lolling beneath the fruit trees. They jumped to their feet as we rode up; someone sang out as if in warning, 'Lord Myrddin is here! Lord Emrys!'
Clearly, our arrival was anticipated. Several warriors came running up; we left the horses in their care and gladly dropped from the saddle. Dafyd and Gwythelyn started at once for the church, Pelleas and I following, the monks staying behind to speak to the soldiers, some of whom, I gathered, were kinsmen.
The interior of the church was larger than it appeared from outside, owing to the fact that its floor had been excavated and lowered. We walked down several stone steps to the richly tessellated floor. There were candles burning on candle trees all round the large, dark room – a cool place of refuge from the hot, bright day. Yet it had something of the feel of a tomb.
We were met by Urbanus himself, who was obviously expecting us. He made a quick bow to Dafyd, and the two bishops greeted one another with a holy kiss and exchanged brief words about the journey, while Pelleas and I looked on. But as soon as the pleasantries of protocol were finished, Urbanus turned to me and gripped me by the hands.
He was a man above medium height with a scholar's oblong head – high-domed and covered with dark hair growing thin on top. His skin was sallow, as marks a
man who spends his days away from the sun. His long fingers were smudged with ink.
'Lord Merlinus,' he said, affecting the Latin form of my name. 'I am indeed happy you have come.' He did not appear especially happy; he appeared relieved. 'Aurelianus will be most pleased to see you.'
'Is the High King here?'
'No, not at present. But he hopes to return soon. If you will await him here -' the churchman faltered.
'Yes?'
'He has asked me to make you comfortable until he returns.'
'Where is Aurelius? What is wrong?'
Urbanus glanced at Dafyd, as if hoping his spiritual superior would answer for him. But Dafyd only gazed benignly back. 'I hardly know where to begin,' Urbanus sighed.
Obviously, he had little experience with trouble; merely speaking about it fairly undid him. I did not choose to make it easier for him. 'Tell us at once.'
'I do not understand all of it,' he admitted to his credit, 'and no doubt the warriors outside can tell you more, but evidently some problem has arisen with Aurelianus' – ah, coronation. He went to the governor, you understand, and was received with all cordiality, I believe. He stayed in the palace a day and a night and then rode out of the city once more to make provision for his troops. When he returned, and his kings with him, the governor would not see him.'
'Aurelius turned away?' wondered Dafyd.
'Why?' echoed Gwythelyn.
Urbanus shook his head in bewilderment. 'I cannot say. I do not know if Aurelianus can say. He came here in a rage, livid. Uther was with him, they talked to one another in my cell – the men with him waited outside. When they came out Uther asked if he might leave some of their men here. Of course, I had no objection. Aurelianus told me that, should you come while he was away, I was to ask you to await him here and that he would return soon – as I have told you.'
'When did this take place?' I asked.
The day before yesterday,' Urbanus replied, and added, 'I do not know what has happened, but the mood of the city has grown ugly since he arrived.'
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