I looked at the remaining empty hall for a second more, feeling intensively please with myself for a reason I did not understand, before I too turned and ran.
The stables were as busy as the main courtyards despite Lord Aries apparently telling people to return tomorrow. They formed an enclosure that consisted of a collection of single storey timber frame and even substantial two storey light red narrow brick buildings. At first floor most were haylofts and were of better quality than some of the hovels available within the town. A few had in part been taken over as accommodation for this very reason. In the fort’s former glory days when the roman army was stationed here, before deserting the country, I could imagine the number of horses and people gathered now was just a typical day back then. Caerleon was once known as the city of legions, part of the golden age for the Roman Empire and it even had a large amphitheatre and bath room now abandoned and ruined just beyond the walls of the fort. Today its legacy was being slowly eroded, or in some cases borrowed as the old Roman flat bricks and stone disappeared on regular occasion to form new walls for other buildings.
I found the sunlight refreshing after being shut away inside the walls of the fort for only a little while. The fort’s purpose when first constructed was purely defence and so there was little need for comfort and light inside. My appreciation of the outside was only short and I set about rushing pass carts and stacks of hay and with an effort dodged the arriving and departing horses. I couldn’t see him at first; there was just too much going on. Dust and people everywhere, but a moment of stillness in the haze of movement caught my eye.
Arthur was just finishing fixing the reins to a black courser not far away across the yard, but it was enough distance to groan at. Between us was everyone and everything in the world it seemed. I quickly worked out given the quality of horse he was preparing it could not be his, but then if truly he was some king he might now own the whole stable. The horse would be quick and I saw I was running out of time to catch him. As I hurried across the yard, he mounted the horse. Time was seeping through my fingers. Had I had just had a second more, just one second and I would have been in time! But that second passed and he was away leaving me cursing my encounter with the lady in the halls for my delay. I stood there annoyed that I had taken so long in trying to impress a strange woman because she was, well, she was very attractive. Yet something deeper inside still felt it was worth it and fought the regret.
Not the best time to catch myself asking why I was chasing Arthur, but I did. Why was I worried about his future? Why in the moment I saw him pull on the reins of his horse and gallop away did I care? I did not know for certain. As I saw him expertly lead the horse through the gates beyond fulfilling his escape, I had decided that what I did know was I had to help him. I needed to be there for him and that my help was needed and important. Perhaps I was a bit hazy on the why, but I decided that for me to be this far from home and happen to come across the future leader of the country was fate. Not that I believed in that sort of thing either. Of course he did not know that he needed my help and I doubted he would trust anyone right now. Clearly if it were me I knew I would be running now as well. This was my reasoning, as good as it was. And my good intent was not beaten back by Arthur when he looked towards me for a fraction of that earlier second and still choose to ignore me as he rode off.
A lot can happen in a second, but I was hesitantly still for a few more as I stood outside the deserted stable Arthur had left behind. Cursing again the lost time, I pushed aside the newly arrived feeling of helplessness and spun around looking for way to follow Arthur.
I needed a horse!
While I would never admit it openly I knew I was not the best horseman. Truth was that even a poor palfrey would be a bit on the fast side for me. Swordsmanship was another matter. I had always been given high regard for my skills in training, if only it were the same for dealing with horses. Sadly Arthur was on a fast horse and I needed one of similar ability if I had a chance to catch up and I needed one ready to go right now. The longer I took to find one, the further he would be and the more likely I would lose him. I found after disregarding a few my glaze settled on one black horse a few stable doors down. Rolling my eyes with a sigh I realised what I needed to do.
Giant was the best word my mind could find as I guessed the horse to be almost fourteen hands! He was majestic with great strength and I knew the type had a reputation to match. While I was a not the best at riding I knew enough to recognise different sorts of horse and ones I should avoid. This was one that many would avoid, despite most would never have the chance to ride one. This was a Destrier and a rare breed and the cost of one was the same as many Palfreys or even a hundred squires.
I closed in on this one. I didn’t have time to argue and seek permission. The page had just finished tying the saddle in place before he returned to within the stable for something else. I was free to approach and helpfully the page had even left a wooden step behind. I took a moment to consider the deeply depressed voice in my head screaming no before I jumped quickly onto the step and in one smooth movement on to mount the horse. The voice in my head gave up, collapsed and died as I pulled reins. There was a fleeting pause of nothing, no movement or anything else happening before the animal suddenly surged forward and I realised something very important. In an instant I knew I was unquestionably not the one in control, the horse was! All I was going to do, all I could do, was hang on tight.
Wind sailing pass my ears disguised the actual words, but I left a trial of shouting voices some of which was bound to had been my own as I charged through those gathered and left a confused page who had returned and stood at the stable door in time to see his horse disappear. I left my life as a squire behind and had just formed a new one as a horse thief.
With luck the horse had decided to go the way I wanted. I could not believe my tugging on the reins and copious amount of hope was having any real effect. We travelled through the gates and over the front bridge before I knew it. My main preoccupation was just managing to stay on the horse. The stirrups had not been adjusted for me, and so despite my reasonable height I found I could not reach them to put my feet through. As a result I gripped the sides of the horse with the underside of my legs as best I could with the unadjusted stirrups loose to bash either the horse or my legs at regular intervals. This also meant I was not gracefully riding this pedigree, this creature of legend, as I should have been. Instead of appearing as a rider should, I was bouncing up and down like some wooden puppet on string with little grace or rhythm. On some of the rougher ground I had to work hard to avoid being thrown off or otherwise I found myself hitting hard the back of the horse’s neck. I was already aching and gathering a collection of bruising as we passed through the town.
At this point to gain a foothold I had managed to twist one of the flailing stirrups around my right leg, but I couldn’t do the same for my left. With little other choice I gripped the reins tightly, even with knowing that my futile efforts were only likely to be panicking the horse to go faster and yet I had no alternative! I was finding it difficult to see beyond the horse’s tough black coat before me and my own hair was also getting in the way whipping my face. As for the surrounding world it was a burr and we thundered onwards.
Caerleon itself was a good size town located within lowlands of the valley with the river Usk to the south and east along with its treacherous wetlands. To the south was another significant investment for the town in the form of a timber bridge across the river to the old road which among other places went on to lead to Gloucester and then Londonium. The north and west were dominated by hills and mountains that served as an impressive backdrop to an otherwise unimpressive place as far as I was concerned. Hidden by trees, I knew the hills also conceded an old hill fort built before even the Romans came and unused since they came and went. It was westward we travelled, I concluded eventually between flashes of views mostly dominated by the back of the horse’s head and attempts to dodge it. Ahead, pa
ss the remaining houses, were the open meadows before the start of the woods and the hills beyond. The world was full of trees, only if the ground flooded, as was the case for the meadows we charged towards, or if contained rocks or men had struggled to clear for a while was there any space to move.
The pace of everything was hard to comprehend, everything was moving if it was not speeding past it was slamming against me. The saddle for a while was doing just that, moving along with the horse or I was hitting against it. Except, without warning, the saddle shifted position that was not expected. Perhaps because I had one leg wrapped around one stirrup and couldn’t find the other it resulted in more of my weight bearing down on one side. This was an obvious reason to cause the saddle to move slightly across the back of the horse with me on it, but I knew it in my gut it was not going to be so simple. My insight hit me the same time I managed to see a glimpse of the new bridge some distance to my left and we had escaped the boundary of the town. The real reason I knew was the saddle was on the move was because the page had not in fact finished preparing the horse! He must not have tightened the straps enough, if at all!
In a fraction of a second I concluded a few imperative facts. This was not going to end well! Admittedly it was one fact, but an important one. I was going to fall or be thrown off and it was just a matter of when and how hard I hit the ground! Except I still had one leg entangled in a stirrup. While a moment ago I was happy my leg was part of the ridding gear allowing me some grip, I now started to try and shake it free realising that if I was to fall I wanted to take my leg with me and not leave it behind.
The horse sensing my own panic reacted as any well trained horse would, it went even faster and relied purely on its own sense of flight to escape the danger it perceived.
The saddle moved again.
Perhaps had I spoken to the page I might of discovered he was a useless page or maybe this was not a well trained horse. My body was shifting with everything else. I tried to resist the saddle dragging me down with it by pulling the reins even harder to hold myself up.
Across the open flood meadow land we thundered on, it simply meant one thing. There would be nothing getting in the way, nothing to slow us down. The occasional stretch of shallow water meant nothing to a horse of such strength and power. The water was cool for the horse helping him keep the pace, for me the cold water splaying up only added shock as another part of my suffering. Shouting meaningless words such as stop and other appropriate words that nuns would run from was a waste of time. I also had little breath for it. Unproductive were my efforts to remove my leg despite now growingly desperate attempts. My acceptance for addition pain from my endeavour leaped forward every second if it meant I could work my tied up leg free.
Again the saddle shifted, this time it felt substantial, even if in truth it was only a minor amount. Now gravity had a hold of me, and each additional inch was increasingly dire. All of a sudden I saw that the woods ahead had gotten close very fast as I had not been paying attention to the scenery. If I was going to fall, hitting a tree on the way down was not something I would wish for. As I dreaded, the support of the saddle fell away suddenly taking most of me with it to one side. The saddle did not come away entirely so must have been tied to some degree, but my leg remained coupled with the horse against my will. I was now just hanging onto the horse by holding the reins not designed to take the full weight of anyone and my entangled leg. The horse was less than happy about his head being pulled about in such a way as well. If I could get my leg free I could drop to the ground feet first, but otherwise if I let go of the reins I would hit the ground with my head and if that didn’t kill me being dragged by this horse was not going to be positive for my survival chances.
The world went darker as we hurtled into the woodland, the sound of hoofs changed from the compaction of wet mud to the hard pounding of dry undergrowth. The horse’s muscles attuned corresponding to the more punishing terrain and suddenly each contact with the ground was a greater blow to every bone of my already hurting body. My hands were being cut to pieces by the reins while both arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets. I could not hold on, had no strength to reach for the horse’s neck, pain was completing with will. I kicked my leg some more trying to loosen it, but knowing it was no good, something broke!
Pain won.
Through the fog that was my pounding head I struggled to open my eyes. The ground and I had seemed to have formed a new relationship based on sheer hate. I just could not avoid colliding with it today and before now we had been doing reasonable well. Making a number of curses and groans I righted myself. I was still in the forest according to the dark green haze beyond my mud and wet moss covered hands. I tried concentrating on my immediate views. Then the pain having waited for me to sit up kicked in and I cried loudly before it passed beyond feeling and became numb. Trees gained focus as the blur of a patchwork of greens, browns, dark and light reduced in size and gained perspective. It got a little better each time I opened my eyes. Opening them was hard to do as I had to close my eyes often for the sake of my throbbing forehead. I spat out a mixture of dirt and blood and coughed causing shots of pain to run across my chest.
Finally my head fell back and then I was aware of figure before me, almost opposite. My eyes adjusted to the light some more and I could see he was siting, his back against a trunk of mature oak tree.
“I saw you fall,” Arthur spoke as I stared at him to make him out. He had a bitter tone to his voice that was new to me and I had to see him to believe it was him. Then answering the question not asked he stated bluntly, “Guess I had to check you were still alive.”
I felt behind me and found I was partly lying on a large exposed root of a tree. Support enough for now and I pushed myself across a little further then collapsed on it. Pain was not describable at that moment.
“Thanks,” I finally answered once I thought I was not going to faint. “I thought you were gone and I had….” I said with an effort, pausing to let another wave of agony pass, “lost you.”
“I didn’t want you to find me.” Arthur snapped, his voice heightened with an edge of anger and at this stage I was not sure who it was aimed at. I did not know what to say in return and said nothing, but he continued after a short silence. “Why were you rushing to catch me?”
The good news was I was alive, I could not think how. The pain seemed to ease a little in some places unless I had lost body parts and could no longer feel them.
As for Arthur’s question I finally answered slowly with half a grumble “I wanted to check you were alright.” I said, still trying to clear my head and think straight.
“Liar.” Arthur yelled and jumped up, his face red.
I did not think it was best for me to move so stayed seated. I was not even sure I could move yet, but my mind was now racing. I really was not in a fit state to be dealing with an angry would-be king.
“You’re right,” I replied a little taken aback and worried by his severity. “I was also sent, but even if I hadn’t been I would’ve still followed.”
“And you happened to be looking out for me since I got here, or was that planned by someone as well!” He excused.
I sat amazed and shocked and to be honest feeling sick. He moved over to me and now crouching low stared directly at me with contempt. I tried to return his stare back, part of me was getting wound up, tempted to tell him to back off and stop being an idiot, but instead I had to keep looking away. The pain down the side of my neck and a nightmare headache was affecting my concentration and distracted me.
“Oh my head hurts.” I was forced to admit out loud as pain drilled down into my head.
I did not want a deep meaningful conversation right now, I needed to swear about my woes and not explore Arthur’s problems.
Arthur had other ideas, “Well?” He demanded, his jaw tightly clinched.
“Please Art, just…” I pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.
“Tell me!”
&nbs
p; “You think I am mixed up with all those kings and lords.” I sputtered in haste. My angry overruled pain for a moment and while I had a chance I took it, “You’re joking. You think I would steal a horse, race after you, one that didn’t have its damn straps tightened, I mean, I ask you, for them!”
Arthur just shook his head and I had no idea if he was he listening to me. My head dropped for a moment. Again it was too painful to look at him now kneeling slightly above me. The effort to hold my head to look at such an angle for long had drained away.
“You think I’m a fool, a puppet to play. I pull out a sword and suddenly everyone is my new friend, don’t think I don’t see it! I don’t know who you are; don’t know them, anyone anymore. Just, just leave me alone.”
He stood straight at these words and turned to go.
Against any sensible idea or sheer common sense, I quickly tried to regain some strength to talk back once more.
“I am just trying to help you!” I cried out. “I didn’t come to force you back, that’s up to you. If you want to leave just go, you didn’t have to stop.”
Energy drained away again. I needed a moment to regroup and a new head, but Arthur was not going to let me recover as he faced me again.
“How can you help, you have no idea what I am going through, this is huge, this is ruling a country! They want me to be a king and I have no one, no one!” He yelled again.
I could see in his eyes the pain and torment I could match in actual physical pain. I waited for a time, my only defence, diffusing the stress of the moment was by saying nothing. He broke away, frustration boiling over and kicking leaves in irritation.
Finally I sighed and attempted to ignore my aches and head to try talking calmly to him. “Look, my father ensured loyally by killing anyone that was a threat. His people lived, still live in fear of him and any opposition was always crushed at once. I never understood, we were different people and I can’t explain why.” I paused for a needed breath, “You would think seeing the results of his will every day I would have thought it normal, acceptable and right. Instead I dreamed of being a knight, a real one, not a prince and not one of the paid pawns of my father who trained daily in the courtyard. I use to watch them learn to fight and help my father, and how they helped continue to impose his might on the weak....”
The Knight Behind the Pillar Page 6
