"Or traitors and traitors," Arthur repeated, nodding. Then he pointed at the map rolled out on the table, and traced the road from Barum to Celliwig with one finger. "Kallas's men have no horses or pack animals — except of course what they have been able to steal. In a forced march, they might make it here by tomorrow evening, but probably later. Caer Tamar is closer, less than fifty miles away, but Cerdic is busy trying to add to his conquests, so we have no idea when he might arrive with his two hundred. But when and if he does come to Celliwig, it would make our numbers even — with Medraut safe in his hill-fort."
"Caer Tamar is well-defended," Kustennin said. "It is too important a trading port to lose."
"We keep at least a hundred warriors stationed there at all times," Cador added. "That is only half Cerdic's forces, but they are inside the walls and the traitor's army outside."
"Nonetheless, I think it wisest if we go to their aid — that way we can also keep Cerdic's forces from falling on us unprepared."
"And Medraut's Pictish allies?" Arthur's bastard son Anir asked.
"We should move against them too. We do not need all our centuries here to build siege engines."
"But we would be a stronger force if we all remained together," Cador said. "And the siege engines could be completed faster."
The rest chuckled. Unfortunately, Cador had been serious.
"We will also need to send messengers to Aircol in Moridunum, Cadell in Viroconium, and Caradoc in Caer Gwent, asking for reinforcements. Cerdic may well have more warriors on the way, perhaps by land."
"I could ride against this Kallas," Bedwyr suggested. "On the way, I can procure reinforcements from Uxelis."
Kustennin poured himself a glass of wine. "I should go to the aid of Caer Tamar. But as Voliba has been taken by Medraut, I doubt if I will find any reinforcements on the way."
Arthur nodded shortly. "We will send a larger force with you. Cai, would you care to accompany Kustennin? And Gawain, would you go with Bedwyr?"
Everyone in the tent seemed to agree with Arthur's assessment of the situation, while Cador still couldn't shake the fear that it was a mistake to split up their forces in such a way. But what else were they to do? They were trying to conduct a siege while threatened from two sides — it made a certain amount of sense to move against the outside threat. Perhaps Cador's problem was that he burned to fight Medraut, as soon as possible. He knew well enough that he had never been a strategic genius and never wanted to be.
It would follow him the rest of his life that this time he had been right.
Chapter 31
Three Unfortunate Counsels of the Island of Britain:
The first: to give place for their horses' forefeet on the land to Julius Caesar and the men of Rome, in requital for Meinlas; and the second: to allow Horsa and Hengist and Rhonwen into this Island; and the third: the threefold dividing by Arthur of his men with Medrawd at Camlan.
The Welsh Triads
Kustennin removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow. He pulled the saddle and the old Pendragon banner he used as a saddle blanket off his horse, considering what to do.
Caer Tamar was an easily defendable promontory much like Dyn Tagell, but the neck was wider and the cliffs low enough to be scaled by attackers in boats. Across the bay, Cerdic's warriors were attempting just that. There was no time to try and find a way to ford the river to come to the aid of Caer Tamar by land. They too would have to attack by water.
Kustennin requisitioned fishing boats for himself and his best archers and rowed out just within range of Cerdic's men. From their boats, they tried to pick the enemy warriors off the cliffs as they climbed, while their allies on the walls of Caer Tamar did the same — and poured a little boiling lard from the ramparts for good measure.
The enemy soon gave up the attack by water and retreated to a position on the mainland south of the promontory fort, out of range of the arrows. Cai and Kustennin ordered their men to row back across the bay and make camp. Darkness was falling, and they could not decide this battle for themselves before night. Besides, the men had been riding hard most of the day and needed a break.
For that matter, Kustennin needed a break too.
After returning the boats to the fishermen, they went back to the camp. The smell of roasting rabbit made Kustennin's stomach growl in expectation. Camp food was a far cry from the delicacies of Enid's kitchen, but he had only eaten bread, dried meat, and apples all day.
While he was gnawing on a haunch, somewhat singed but delicious, Cai sat down on a stump next to him. "We need to try and coordinate an attack tomorrow with the men inside the fort."
Kustennin nodded and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. "How do you propose we send them word?"
"If we could get close enough to the walls, we could shoot an arrow over with a message attached." Cai raised his own piece of singed rabbit to his mouth and gnawed off a generous bite.
"There might be a problem with Cerdic's archers taking shots at our men."
Cai swallowed and washed it down with a draught of ale. "Not if we come at the promontory from the opposite side of the land bridge than they expect."
"I don't know this area well. We will have to ask the locals where best to ford the river."
Cai raised one eyebrow. "Aren't you king here?"
Kustennin stared at him a moment, surprised. That was the kind of comment he would have expected from Bedwyr, not Cai. He laughed. "Yes, but I still have much to learn about some areas of my own kingdom."
* * * *
Their plan worked with such precision and ease, it was as if his mother had laid a charm over them, although it was a sort of magic he knew she did not possess. But it was uncanny the way the first arrow with their message flew over the wall; the way the return message landed in the boat without having to be retrieved from the water; the way their mounts forded the river with no problem; the way Cerdic's troops were caught by surprise when they came thundering around the arm of the bay, trapped between them and the fort. The army of Caer Tamar streamed out of the gates and cut off Cerdic's escape route to the boats pulled up on the shore below.
"Yield, Cerdic, and your fate will be slavery rather than death!" Kustennin called out. Perhaps they would be able to learn more of Medraut's plans from the old traitor, but Kustennin doubted it. Even if Cerdic was forthcoming with information, they would not be able to trust it.
Cerdic threw down his sword and his men followed suit. Then the leader stepped forward. The tunic he wore over his chainmail bore a device that struck Kustennin as a cheap imitation of the Pendragon crest, sporting a red sea monster rather than a gold dragon. He removed his helmet, and Kustennin found himself staring at the other man.
It was not Cerdic.
True, he bore a vague resemblance to the former Count of the Saxon Shore, with his graying-blond hair and similar stature. But Kustennin was good with faces, and this was not the same man he had seen with Natanleod at the horse fair in Durnovaria. Was the attack on Caer Tamar merely a diversion?
Kustennin wheeled around on his gelding and faced Cai. "This man is not Cerdic!"
Cai rode forward, staring beyond him at the man who had just yielded. "I have not seen Cerdic in nearly twenty years. Are you sure?"
Kustennin nodded. "I saw him last year. If I could get the information out of this impostor as to where Cerdic really is, I would, but I fear we have no time."
The man who had pretended to be the self-proclaimed king of the south merely smiled. They had to return to Celliwig as soon as possible.
Kustennin called the head of the guards over to him. "Kill every second man and maim the rest in such a way that they are still good for manual labor," Kustennin ordered. He jerked his thumb at the false Cerdic. "With this one, use whatever means you need to find out where his master is and what he plans. As soon as you have any information, send it to Arthur at Celliwig."
Cai and the guard both stared at Kustennin. "Certainly, Lord," the head of the guard f
inally got out.
Kustennin himself could barely believe the order he had just given — and he did not want to remain to see it carried out. It might be argued that if he were going to have enemy warriors randomly murdered, he should at least face the consequences. But then perhaps he would lose the ability to do what the situation demanded.
"I will also need two dozen of your best warriors, all of them mounted on the fastest horses at your disposal. They are to follow us to Celliwig as soon as possible. Our mounts are winded now, so they should be able to catch up with us by nightfall."
"It will be done, King Kustennin."
"If the men are with us when we make camp tonight, I will see to it that you are generously rewarded."
The man bowed and smiled. "Thank you, Lord!"
They turned their mounts around, back in the direction of the spot where they had forded the river. "Do you not think your judgment on the enemy a bit harsh?" Cai asked.
Behind them, they heard the thunk of steel on bone, accompanied by the first screams. Kustennin winced. "I know it is harsh. But think of the numbers. Despite those killed in the fighting, with the cavalry I have demanded, their forces here at Caer Tamar would be outnumbered by Cerdic's men almost two to one. How are they to keep the hostages in hand? Besides, when Cerdic and Cynric took Calleva, they had every able-bodied man in the city killed — including the husband of Cerdic's daughter, the father of his grandson. It is said Nerienda cursed her own father and has since lost her wits."
"So it is revenge?" Cai asked.
Kustennin shook his head. "I barely knew Natanleod and his son. But how are we to survive this war if we do not fight like the enemy?"
"You have a point, my young friend, but consider this: do we want to become the enemy?" And with that, Cai spurred his stallion forward, taking the lead in the journey back to Celliwig.
* * * *
Fists on his hips, Cador gazed at the hill-fort and the preparations for war all around him. Sunset was past, but patches of sunlight still flecked the northwest side of Celliwig and the surrounding hills. The catapult too, nearly complete, was dusted with points of light refracted through the nearby trees. It was a strangely peaceful moment in the middle of an inter-familial war — but then, a siege often held moments of deceptive peace.
Cador wished he could appreciate the beauty of near-dusk as it deserved. On one level he did, especially since it had not rained for two days and their clothes and tents were finally beginning to dry. Unfortunately, the siege engines — elegant as they were in their own destructive way — dominated the sloping plains below Ginevra's ancestral seat.
A red-headed warrior jogged up the incline, light catching his hair in a kind of halo. "King Cador, there is a messenger for you."
Perhaps there was reason for a brief moment of happiness after all. "From Yseult?"
The man shook his head. "Voliba. He says he has important news, but he wishes to speak with you personally. Says you know him and will vouch for him."
Cador turned away from his contemplation of the scene. "Take me to him, please."
After subjugating most of Cerniw south and west of Celliwig, Medraut's first conquest when he began to move east had been the hill-fort of Lansyen — and with it, the town of Voliba.
"King Cador!" a voice called out as he neared the group standing beside one of the catapults.
Cador squinted in the rapidly fading light. In the last year or two, his night vision had been growing worse, a sure sign that he was no longer young.
"Talek?" he said, taking the farmer's hand.
"So you do know this man?" Arthur said.
Cador nodded. "Talek is a farmer who lives between Lansyen and Voliba. Yseult taught his wife something of her knowledge of herbs." He turned back to Talek. "How is your wife? I hope your family has not suffered in the recent upheavals?"
Talek pursed his lips. "We were successful in hiding our daughters from the soldiers, but others were not so lucky. At least Medraut has his own people to feed so he did not have our farms razed."
"I'm glad to hear it. What brings you to Celliwig?"
"Six British ships sailed into the bay of Voliba this morning. The rumor is that it's Cerdic and his men, come to Medraut's aid."
The men standing near the catapult looked at each other. "Depending on the size of the ships and how full they were, that could be over two hundred and fifty warriors," Arthur said.
"But we had word Cerdic is attempting to take Caer Tamar!" Anir objected.
"Perhaps that was a deliberate distraction," Cador said slowly.
"If it was, we fell for it," Aircol said, his voice bitter. The king of Demetia had arrived with much needed reinforcements only the day before.
Arthur drew a deep breath. "Voliba is only fifteen miles from here."
As they considered the meaning of hundreds of warriors coming to Medraut's aid, Cador thought he heard hoof beats in the distance.
Three riders galloped up the incline from Camlann River, shouting questions and following the directions of pointing hands. They pulled up in front of Arthur, their horses snorting with exertion.
"More Picts have landed south of the Camel, Dux, led by yet another son of Caw," one of them called out.
"Conyn, they say," the second rider added. "In the port at Gannel Bay."
Cador ran his good hand through his hair. Gannel Bay was a little farther than Voliba — but it was safer for ships than the Camel Estuary.
"How many?" Arthur asked.
"About two hundred," the third scout replied.
Which meant the hundreds of warriors on their way here to assist Medraut had just doubled — while Arthur had sent nearly half his men north and east to deal with other attacks. With luck (and Aircol's reinforcements), they might still be equally matched. But that was not counting Medraut's men behind the walls of Celliwig.
They were all adding up the numbers and coming to the same conclusion. Arthur turned to Anir. "If we work into the night, how much longer before we finish the catapults?"
"One is nearly complete and can be done before midnight. The others? Perhaps before dawn. But we would need bonfires to work, and that will alert Medraut to our intentions."
"That is unimportant now," Arthur said. "We have to attack Celliwig as soon as possible, tonight if we can. We no longer have time to wait for Bedwyr and Kustennin to return. The only way to end this is to defeat Medraut."
* * * *
It was torture to be left behind, waiting for news.
At least Celliwig was not far from Dyn Tagell, and those safe behind the walls of the promontory fortress had news regularly. They knew of Bedwyr's campaign against Kallas — yet another son of Caw! — knew that Kustennin and Cai had led a force against Cerdic in Caer Tamar, knew of the messengers sent to allied kings in southwest Britain asking for reinforcements.
Nonetheless, each item of news seemed to leave them waiting for more.
Then finally there was good news: Bedwyr and Gawain had defeated Kallas! Two days later, the victorious troops were spotted making their way to the fort from the mainland village. The women left the promontory and spilled out of the fortifications, hoping their loved ones would be among the troops stopping at Dyn Tagell before continuing on to Celliwig. But when they caught sight of the warband nearing the gates, all excited chatter stopped.
The victorious warriors arriving from the north did not much resemble victors.
Yseult watched as Brangwyn let out a cry and ran to Kurvenal and her foster son Judual. Kurvenal was listing in his saddle, apparently only staying upright because Judual rode beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
Next, Ragnell spotted Gawain and hurried over to him. At least Gawain appeared to have taken no major injury. Gawain's wife had joined them in Dyn Tagell only days before, in order to be closer to her husband. Ragnell had avoided Yseult at first, but one morning, after a particularly uncomfortable breakfast, Yseult decided it was enough.
"Just use your power of knowing
and have done with it," Yseult demanded. She opened her mind and allowed Ragnell to see a hint of her confused love for Cador. Afterwards, they slowly became uneasy allies.
With Ragnell had come Llacheu mac Arthur, Arthur's son by his first wife Gwenhwyfar, a king in Rheged through his maternal relatives. Yseult could hardly believe her eyes how much Llacheu resembled Arthur as he'd been when she first arrived in Britain — except for the fact that Llacheu was bearded like the men of the north rather than clean-shaven like the men of the south.
"Bedwyr is sore injured," Gawain said to them. "You must see to him as soon as possible."
Yseult found Bedwyr on a mule cart — probably requisitioned from some peasant. Arthur's closest companion moaned at every bump, the lower part of his right arm no more than a bloody extremity wrapped in leftover scraps of tunics and breeches and capes, none of them clean. Yseult winced at the sight and clenched her hands at her sides.
"We will cure him, Yseult," Ragnell said.
Despite the pain he must be in, Bedwyr was delighted to see Arthur's son leaning over the edge of his cart. He reached up his uninjured hand to grasp Llacheu's. "Well met, young pup! It is good to see you again. And with gray in your hair and a beard like a northern barbarian!"
Llacheu smiled. "I cannot recall the last time anyone called me a 'young pup.'"
They accompanied the warriors across the land bridge and into the lower hall, discussing past and recent events. Bedwyr asked Llacheu about his children, which was the first Yseult had heard that Arthur was a grandfather. Although he never talked much about his private life, she still found it a strange omission.
She had the injured brought into an annex of the hall. She unwound the stinking, blood-soaked rags from Bedwyr's lower arm, fearing the worst. Sure enough, the wound was festering badly. She exchanged glances with Ragnell and Brangwyn; none of them had much hope that they could save it.
"Has there been any news from Kustennin?" Bedwyr asked, still unaware of the fate that awaited him — even if he probably had his suspicions.
Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles) Page 50
