Warriors of Camlann

by N. M. Browne

  ‘Get out of my head, Dan!’

  ‘Can’t!’

  It was true he couldn’t. Dan had the terrifying sensation of becoming Ursula, while at the same time being himself. Because of the closeness of their connection and their strange experience in helping Taliesin, the fusion happened suddenly, startlingly, completely. Dan no longer knew whose body he controlled. He seemed to see out of two pairs of eyes at once and had no way of processing that vision so that it made sense. The bodies still moved, under whose volition? He felt impact and was afraid; they were going to get hurt.

  ‘We have to stop this, I don’t like it!’

  He did not know which one of them spoke, or if it was both screaming mentally with one accord. Dan’s body backed away and Ursula’s did the same. He bowed and heard himself say in a voice that seemed a long way away, ‘If Queen Gwynefa is satisfied, I believe we should call this a draw.’

  He felt his own hand on the distorted shape of a sword hilt and knew that he was himself. It took a moment for his equilibrium to be restored. A quick glance in Ursula’s direction showed him only that she was breathing heavily. Dan looked round to bow to the Queen and realised, at the same moment as everyone else, that Queen Gwynefa was gone.

  Ursula sheathed her sword. She looked unperturbed by their strange experience. It was a gift for coolness that Dan envied.

  Bryn spoke. ‘I fear the Queen was not so confident of her innocence that she could wait for Gawain to prove it.’

  There was a horrible silence. Arturus had gone very pale.

  ‘Secure the gates and let no one out!’ His voice was cracked with strain. Men hurried to obey him. It was too late.

  Gwynefa had planned it well. As she arrived and generated the diversion, three hundred Sarmatian Cataphracts, her dowry troops, had left the fortress along with a sizeable proportion of Arturus’s campaign supplies, neatly stowed in barrels and crates. She was a princess of Rheged, daughter to Meirchion Gul, and the sons of Cynfach’s Cataphracts were men of Rheged first, descendants of the Sarmatians second, and troops of the High King third. It was a bitter blow.

  Arturus gathered the remaining men – somewhat less than two hundred – thanked them for their loyalty and instructed them that they would march the next day. Gwynefa had taken few of the officers with her, few of the veterans. She had persuaded young men to join her, men dissatisfied with the slow pace of promotion in the unit. A roll call quickly established that she must have made officers of untried boys. Arturus brightened a little at that. He had hopes that if they could link with Larcius’s light cavalry they could defeat the deserters before they could join with Medraut’s force. He was further cheered by the arrival of Taliesin and Brother Frontalis. Brother Frontalis was too weak to ride but Taliesin had persuaded the brothers of Frontalis’s order to lend them their cart so that Frontalis might go and serve his king for one last time. Arturus’s eyes were damp with tears when he saw the old man, indeed Arturus’s carefully controlled emotions were threatening to overwhelm both himself and Dan. Brother Frontalis was helped inside Arturus’s private chamber in a small rudely screened room to the back of the Main Hall. Arturus sent for food.

  Taliesin helped Brother Frontalis drink his wine, his hands trembled from the stress of the journey and he looked weary. Dan tried not to feel the pain in Frontalis’s joints, his sorrow at seeing the distress of Arturus, his hope that he might live long enough to help. He spoke wheezily.

  ‘Taliesin saw Gwynefa heading towards Gewisse. That’s Cerdic’s kingdom,’ he added for the benefit of Ursula and Dan. ‘I thought you might want to talk to an old friend.’ Arturus clasped the old man’s bony hands and kissed them.

  ‘Brother Frontalis. What have I done to her? I knew she did not love me but I did not think she hated me.’

  Brother Frontalis shook his head. ‘We will talk of these things later, in private. For now, you have more pressing concerns. We must talk about how you can deal with the threat of Cerdic and Larcius.’

  ‘Larcius?’

  There was a strained silence. Could Arturus truly not know that Gwynefa and Larcius had been lovers for the best part of twenty years? Or had he simply assumed that she was capable of acting alone?

  Frontalis’s voice was gentle, so soft suddenly that everyone strained to hear it.

  ‘My dear friend, I think it is time you faced what you have denied for years. This last betrayal of Gwynefa’s is but the last of many. She will join her lover and he will abandon you.’

  No one dared breathe.

  To Dan’s surprise Arturus’s overriding emotion was one of relief as he turned to Taliesin for the first time. ‘Well, my merlin, what are the forces arraigned against us? Can we win?’

  Taliesin slowly shook his head. ‘You cannot ignore them either. Now that they have shown their opposition they cannot but move against you.’

  Ursula spoke. ‘I was going to tell you – before. They intend to ambush you in the crooked valley off the Icknield Way.’

  There was another long pause, as if Arturus was considering their words. With so many factions against him, he could not stay where he was – he had no choice about war – he could only choose to fight now or to fight later. Everyone in the Hall had ceased breathing, waiting. All eyes were on the High King when he finally spoke.

  ‘Then we must hurry to this crooked valley, I know it well, Camlann.’ He rolled his tongue round the word and smiled. ‘So that’s where it will end, at Camlann.’ The smile died. ‘Let us find a way to ensure that we will not die alone.’

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Arturus knew the valley of Camlann. Ursula discovered that Arturus knew a lot about a lot, everything it seemed to do with war, his men, his horses, his weapons – in that at least he was the Arthur of legend. She listened while Arturus and Taliesin talked tactics.

  ‘Would Rhonwen have known that you would come to me with what you’d heard?’ Arturus’s sudden question startled Ursula – she had ceased to listen to the detail of the conversation.

  ‘Where else would I go?’

  ‘Where would she go?’ Arturus demanded, very much the High King.

  ‘I don’t know, she may have raised the Veil.’ Ursula knew it was childish but her voice was truculent. She was on Arturus’s side but she didn’t have to like it.

  Taliesin was shaking his head. ‘I don’t think she’d raise the Veil without Ursula or even me to guide it. You forget that the last time she tried to leave your world she was unsuccessful. That’s why she wanted help – she cannot direct the Veil alone and that is risky.’

  ‘She would have gone to Medraut then?’ Arturus said gravely.

  ‘And even if she did not, I know she sent him news of her meeting with Gwynefa,’ Ursula added quickly. It was a detail she had almost forgotten.

  Arturus scowled, though whether at her omission of his Queen’s title or at the memory of her betrayal Ursula couldn’t say. When he spoke his voice sounded bitter. ‘Medraut is a good leader – he knows how I think. He knows what I would do were I to expect an ambush. If Rhonwen left Gewisse today, how would she get to Camlann?’ He drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. ‘Merlin – any ideas? If we don’t delay Rhonwen and her messenger we’re in trouble. We have a chance only if no one knows I will be expecting an ambush.’

  Brother Frontalis spoke unexpectedly. Everyone had thought he was asleep. ‘The brothers of my order, especially Brother Paulinus, would love to try and convert the Heahrune of the Aenglisc.’ He smiled. ‘They would not be able to hold her for long, sorceress that she is, but they could surely delay her so that she would arrive too late for Medraut to change his battle plans. If only we could get a message to the brothers.’

  ‘How would they know where to find her, and wouldn’t they be terrified of her magic?’ Ursula had seen the effect Rhonwen’s illusions had on brave fighting men, she was doubtful that monks would be any less terrified.

  ‘The brothers would consider it a blessing to walk through hell to
save her soul. They would regard it as a test of faith. They wouldn’t fail it.’ Frontalis squinted at the map, putting his eyes no more than a centimetre from the vellum.

  ‘If I were an Aenglisc Heahrune I would travel as much as possible in Aenglisc territory. Cerdic’s land ends here.’ He pointed to a spot on the map. ‘She would need to camp overnight. Now, she could either stay the night here, which would give her a long ride tomorrow, or here.’ He pointed to another position. ‘There is an old Roman villa there, disused, but with a sound roof, still solid walls and a working well in the grounds. It is often used by travellers. It is only a short ride from our chapel – we used some of the villa’s stone in the building of it. If I were a betting man – as I’m sure you know I was in my youth – I would bet my old cloak against the King’s mantle that she is there even as we speak.’

  Arturus grinned and raised a hand in acknowledgement of the bet.

  ‘Done!’ he said, and Ursula glimpsed some other less serious man, an Arturus she had never known.

  Ursula thought that Frontalis was probably right about Rhonwen and said, ‘It’s a pity you have no homing pigeons.’

  ‘What?’ Arturus asked.

  ‘Pigeons always find their way home – you take them somewhere and tie written messages to their feet and they will take them back to where they came from.’

  ‘Say that again.’ Arturus suddenly looked calculating.

  ‘Pigeons always find their way home?’

  ‘No, the message part.’

  ‘You tie the written message to their feet?’

  ‘Merlin?’

  ‘It might be possible, but I haven’t unlimited strength and you’re going to need me to reconnoitre the battle scene.’

  Arturus considered this.

  ‘Gawain, can you not also take on a bird form?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was real enough to take a message. I thought it was just a, you know, an imaginary thing.’

  Taliesin sighed dramatically. ‘I’ll do it then, and if I have no strength left, Gawain will have to observe the battle scene.’

  ‘Could you carry my cross too, so that Paulinus will know it is not the devil’s work?’

  ‘I’m a bloody bird not a weight lifter,’ grumbled Taliesin.

  Brother Frontalis wrote something in a large and spidery hand on a small square of precious parchment. He rolled it up, tied it with the leather thong attached to his wooden crucifix, and pressed it into Taliesin’s hands. Taliesin grunted and lay down in front of the fire. In moments, his facial muscles loosened into something more than the relaxation of sleep, a kind of slackness, an absence, like death. It was a disconcerting sight. Ursula saw a fleeting, flickering vision of the merlin falcon, then it was gone.

  ‘This doesn’t make any sense,’ Dan mumbled, ‘the note and the cross are still here. How can it be in two places at once?’

  Ursula gave him an amused look. ‘What does make sense in this whole situation? I’d like to know, because I can’t think of one thing.’

  He smiled back and for some reason Ursula wanted to kiss him again, wanted to be close to him. They were probably going to die at Camlann. The awareness of that possibility was fast becoming a doomed belief in its probability. She had only just got away with her life at Baddon – surely her luck had to have run out this time. She did not want to be alone. She edged closer to Dan and slipped her hand into his.

  ‘Why?’ He seemed surprised at the sudden intimacy.

  ‘You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Dan. Do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve never been so close with anyone – and that sharing thoughts closeness—’

  ‘Dan …’

  Ursula didn’t finish. It was neither the time nor the place to say what she wanted to say. Arturus was talking to her, to all of them.

  ‘I’m going to talk to the men. I suggest you all bed down here. We will eat on the march, leaving here at dawn.’

  ‘King Arturus.’

  ‘Lady Ursa.’

  ‘There is one other thing. Cerdic knows I saw the battle plans and so does Gwynefa.’

  Arturus’s face was suddenly sad. ‘Cerdic will not share information with his allies, he will wait to see the outcome of the battle before he commits his troops – I know my half-brother of old. As for Gwynefa – I do not know her at all it seems.’

  Then Ursula realised that despite all the evidence he had against his wife, Arturus did not believe that she and Larcius would truly betray him.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Gwynefa believes in heroic gestures, not good planning – she believes that battle goes to the bold. She is not a stupid woman but it is quite possible that she would not think your knowledge important. No, Medraut is the important one – if we can keep our knowledge from him then we have a chance.’

  Ursula wished she could believe him, but his words lacked the conviction of Rhonwen’s: ‘If I do not return, rest assured that the outcome of this battle is secure. Written in the stars, carved in every rock, carried in the life-blood of every living thing. Arturus will die and Britannia, our Island of the Mighty, will be left for those who dare to forge a new alliance between its peoples.’

  It was those words, and not Arturus’s, that ran through Ursula’s mind all night, turning her dreams to nightmares.

  In the morning Taliesin’s merlin was back. Taliesin was groggy but elated.

  ‘It worked! Frontalis was right. They found her and her messenger and put them both in a cell with Brother Paulinus. I do not know who I feel more sorry for!’

  Arturus, grey with fatigue, smiled wanly. ‘That will give us a chance. My thanks, Merlin.’ He looked around at the sleep-wrinkled faces of Dan and Ursula, the quiet readiness of Bryn, and the red, rheumy eyes of Brother Frontalis. Solemnly he and Frontalis swapped cloaks.

  ‘I should have known better than to bet against you, old friend!’ Arturus smiled, then said softly, ‘Let’s go. We have a long ride ahead.’

  It was a long ride – three days of discomfort with the dust from the horses’ feet blowing in Ursula’s eyes, and the bulk and the weight of the chain mail making the horses lather. They took frequent breaks to water themselves and the horses. What was tough on cavalry must have been tougher still on infantry, weighed down with spears and shields and their toughened leather cuirasses and felt-lined helmets. Ursula had little sympathy to share. She was too busy trying not to be afraid. Experience of battle made her fear worse not better. She knew how close she had come to being hacked to death at Baddon. The odds against them at Camlann were bound to be worse. Dan rode at her side, all too aware, she knew, of the emotions boiling all round him. She spoke little so as not to distract him from the task of dealing with them. It was a relief when each night they set up camp. Arturus persisted in the old Roman ways, defences were dug, tents aligned in good order and everyone was fed with prompt efficiency. It was much as it had been on their journey to Baddon and Ursula felt as she had then that Arturus was firmly in control. She knew that the ability to promote such confidence was important.

  ‘Larcius is not going to join us, is he?’ Ursula’s sharp ears caught Arturus’s muttered aside to Taliesin as the senior officers met at Arturus’s tent for a briefing. She, Dan and Bryn were included in this elite. She was pleased to see an older wiser Bedewyr also included in this group. Ursula waited in trepidation to hear what impossible task she would be given this time.

  Taliesin patted Arturus briefly on the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, but Larcius has never been worthy of the trust you placed in him, Arturus. He is not his father, your beloved Ambrosius, and was never going to be.’

  The first watch on picket duty raised the alarm and Arturus with a small coterie of his leading officers hurried to the defences. Ursula saw a brief flicker of hope in Arturus’s eyes but it died when he realised that the newcomer was not Larcius but King Dewi’s son Prince Mordaf and seventy infantrymen to swell the ranks of Arturus’s men.

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Ursula
asked Taliesin as the High King gave them cautious welcome.

  ‘King Dewi is busily hedging his bets. My guess is that Larcius camped on his land last night. Dewi wants to be on the winning side and he will choose it only when it’s won.’

  ‘Do you think Larcius will betray Arturus?’ She glanced at Bryn who answered before Taliesin had a chance.

  ‘He has betrayed him with Gwynefa for twenty years. He will have left for Camlann already. I am sure of it. He is the High King Ambrosius’s son and he believes he should have been High King and that Gwynefa should always have been his. As far as he is concerned Arturus stole his birthright. He does not betray Arturus, he only reclaims what he believes is his own.’

  Bryn’s speech, long for him, was made without rancour.

  ‘There, you’ve heard it more or less from the horse’s mouth,’ said Taliesin. ‘It is good to see you again, Bryn. Still practising I trust.’

  Bryn grinned. ‘I practise with my sword daily, Taliesin, with my harp only when my son was a babe and I sang him to sleep in his crib.’

  ‘Is little Gwyar safe?’

  Bryn nodded. ‘He is with people I trust. I have left him well enough provided for – if I do not come back.’

  Taliesin smiled. ‘You will come back, Bryn. Rest assured of it.’

  Arturus was cagey about his strategy, preferring not to commit himself until dawn when Dan would be able to see the placement of the enemy’s troops from the air. Dan was busily discussing with Taliesin and Arturus how to go about studying the enemy positions. Bryn was with Brother Frontalis, praying along with many of the men in one of the tents that had been painted with the sign of the cross. Ursula felt too shy to join them, though she knew she would have been welcome. Instead, she sat by the fire, stroking Braveheart’s rough head and praying in her own way, for survival, for victory and for some miracle that would get her home.