by Whyte, Jack
Behind the bishops, who gathered in to form a semicircle on the rostrum behind Enos, came lesser clerics bearing a plain wooden table, a folded, pure white cloth and a block of polished, green stone, beautifully worked by a master stonemason. The table was set in place, and the cloth was laid upon it and draped about it, forming a solid block of whiteness that became the focus of all eyes. And then, with Enos describing every step of the process, the altar stone itself was laid upon the draped table and blessed with Holy Water. The stone, Enos explained, had come that day from Camulod, but its origins were in Verulamium; it had been made there some threescore years before by a Verulamian mason, at the request and under the supervision of the venerable Bishop Alaric. It was fitting, Enos said, that Camulod should provide the altar stone for this occasion, and that it should have been sanctified by Verulamium's own bishop. The stone contained the relics of a saint, one Of the Britons martyred for the Faith in earlier, Roman times, and its consecrated presence here transformed the theatre into a place of worship. So saying, he drew from his sash a large, plain pectoral cross of gold and slotted it into the hole carved in the stone to hold it, thereby completing the ceremony of consecration.
From that point, he had gone on to tell the story of the Saviour's Last Supper, and of His consecration of the sacred bread and wine, and every man and woman in the throng of thousands came forward to share the Eucharist distributed by all the bishops from the endless baskets and ewers brought forward for the Blessing and Consecration. When the Sacrament had been concluded, Enos went on to describe the Saviour's Passion and His Crucifixion at the third hour of the afternoon, bringing his oration to a close at very close to' that third hour, when he led the congregation in reciting the Creed again, and then observing a long moment of silence.
Now, he intoned, the world was all in spiritual darkness, and would so remain until the dawning of the third day. Then, with the Resurrection of the Flesh, all the world would rejoice, and mankind would know salvation and the rebirth of hope. As he spoke, a group of bishops moved about the sanctuary, draping and covering all the symbols of the Church—the candelabra, sacred vessels, monstrances and crosses—with purple mourning cloths, after which the gathering was blessed and dismissed.
I had never been caught up in the rituals of religion, but what Enos showed me, in that simple yet convoluted ceremony, moved me deeply, stirring fresh regret that Tress could not have been there to share it.
I realized suddenly that Enos had stopped talking, and I had no idea what he had been saying. I felt my face flush guiltily.
"Enos, " I said. "It's now my turn to beg your pardon. I was miles away, thinking about that magnificent ceremony today. But that's no excuse for ill manners. I've been dreaming all night, since I came in, so I know I'm tired and should be abed. Will you excuse me?"
"Happily, " he said, his eyes crinkled in a smile. "I might even sleep myself. God bless you, Caius Merlyn, and sleep well. "
The day that followed was a quiet one. Rather than subject myself to the curious stares and even fears of the throngs who now packed the town to an unheard of capacity, I spent the day in the confines of my quarters, observing the activities from a second storey window.
There were soldiers everywhere, of course, and not all of them had come from Camulod. Even so, there was no disorder or rowdiness in any quarter. Many of the visiting kings and chiefs had brought their own escorts and bodyguards, their wives and families and servitors, and the streets were bright with their colours, giving the entire gathering an air of motley gaiety and happiness, despite the religious solemnity of the season and the occasion. This sense of festivity was greatly enhanced by the street vendors who had emerged from nowhere, as such people always do, to profit from the gathering through the provision of food and drink, trinkets and jewellery, and any other thing for which they could find a purchaser. Overall, however, there was yet a muted quality to all the joy, for this truly was a day for quiet contemplation of the evils of a world that could condemn and crucify the Son of its own God, a day for prayer, between the darkness of the soul and the light of Resurrection that would shine the following day.
Towards evening, I was disturbed by an urgent summons from Arthur, who asked that I join him in his command headquarters as soon as I might.
I made my way with no difficulty through the crowded streets and all the way to his encampment, the crowds parting before me like the Red Sea patting before Moses. It seemed, I thought grimly, laughing at myself, that there must be something repellent in the way I walked or dressed. That self consciousness faded quickly, however, when I saw Arthur. His face was lined with concern and he was in the final stages of issuing a rapid series of terse, no nonsense orders to his assembled troop leaders, some hundred or more of them, when I arrived. He saw me come in and signalled that he would be with me presently. I moved into a corner and waited, feeling the awe, and sometimes the hostility, in the surreptitious glances that came my way and slid away again before I could engage them. Finally Arthur dismissed everyone else and came to me. He was dressed as he had been the previous night, save that he wore neither his cloak nor his helmet.
"What's wrong, Arthur?"
"Everything, Merlyn. Evil tidings coming as closely packed as hail, in the past three hours. I'm worried."
"I can see that. But why?"
He pursed his lips and exhaled noisily. "Last night I told you Horsa's Danes were massing outside Lindum. You recall?" I nodded, and he twisted up his face. "Aye, well now they're on the move. The word came in from Bedwyr shortly after noon. But that's not all. A messenger arrived from Gwin, not two hours after that. He and Ghilly are to the south of Bedwyr and farther east, in Anglian territory— Cuthric's country. There's trouble there, too. Saxon incursions from the existing settlements to the south, heavy incursions, and the hordes are moving west, Gwin says. That will set them on a collision course with Horsa's Danes as they come south. "
"Then they'll collide, and do good work for you, killing each other. "
"The Danes in the Weald are moving westward, too, Merlyn. Benedict's people there are falling back ahead of them, according to my own strict orders to observe but not engage. That word arrived less than an hour ago. Ben wants permission to attack. He doesn't like the way they're moving— thinks they're too numerous, too disciplined and too well organized to be on a mere raid. "
"What about the others, Bedwyr and your other advance scouting groups? Are they falling back, too?"
"Aye, all of them are. Those were my orders: to observe, and to retreat ahead of any developing threats without engaging, keeping me informed at all times. Now I've heard from almost everyone, and something inside me is making more than is plainly there out of what I hear. That's what has forced me to take these steps. "
"What steps? I'm not sure what you're saying, Arthur. "
"What if the Danes and Saxons have assigned a meeting place, and are not just driving blindly towards each other? What if they've made alliance? It's a frightening thought, and it gains weight from this report of Ben's. My gut is telling me we have no time to waste, and so I've ordered my armies to assemble at dawn, all of them, in the fields about the theatre. I'm to be crowned at noon. By midafternoon, I want to be fully deployed outside the confines of the town, at a safe distance for the town's welfare, holding high ground but prepared to move out in any direction. I think they're coming here, Merlyn, to Verulamium."
While I knew he had no real, logical grounds for the conclusions he had drawn, I myself had taught and encouraged him to put much credence in his own, unformed convictions at times like this. "If they are, then how long will it take for them to arrive?"
He shrugged. "From Lindum to here is more than a hundred miles, closer to a hundred and thirty. That's seven days, more or less, but they set out four days ago. Bedwyr's messenger killed a horse under him in getting here to warn us. By now they'll have joined up with the Saxons, if what I suspect is true. They could be here tomorrow, if they make good time, alt
hough I think the following day is closer to the mark and perhaps, if God truly is on our side, they'll be later yet. But the same travelling speed applies to those coming up from the Weald, and they're much closer. So I've passed the word to break camp and assemble early tomorrow. We can't afford to take the risk of not being ready, Cay."
"I know that, Arthur, but my concerns are more immediate. If news of this leaks out, it could cause panic in the town and ruin everything we've planned."
"It won't get out. I've seen to that. Only my own people know, and all my troops will be recalled and confined to barracks for the remainder of the day."
I nodded my approval. "For what it's worth, now that it's done, I think you took appropriate action. Now, about tomorrow's ceremonies. I think it would be excellent for everyone were your troops able to be present for your crowning. That way, even if rumours do break out—and when did rumours ever fail to do just that?—the sight of your troopers in tranquil attendance at the ceremonies will have a pacifying effect. "
He stared at me for a long moment. "That's not possible, is it? There's no room for them, for one thing. "
"Yes, Arthur, there is. The theatre holds seven thousand people, seated. Enos's clerics counted less than five thousand there yesterday. Some have arrived late, so there may be fully five thousand there tomorrow. That leaves two thousand empty seats and ample room for another thousand standing around the walls. "
"Aye, but I have more than six thousand men. "
"Have them draw lots. Make it a privilege to attend. I guarantee they'll squabble among themselves to make sure the lots are drawn fairly. Your troop leaders should all be there, but that's not feasible. Again, have them draw lots. One officer in four to stand on duty. For your sub officers and troopers, one in every two. That will fill up three thousand places, and I'm sure we could accommodate four thousand, if the numbers work that way. Apart from the reassurance of their presence serving to disarm rumours, I'd like to see them there, Arthur, and you can only gain by having them attend. That way, they'll see you crowned by bishops, with the blessing of the Church. They'll know they have a High King as Commander. "
He sighed and nodded. "I'll think on it. About the other thing... you do approve of what I've done? I've no real reason, other than my instinct. "
I smiled at him, at the earnestness in his troubled young face. "What does it matter what I think? It was your decision and it's made, right or wrong. But personally, I believe, wholeheartedly, that it's right. "
For the first time since I had walked into his presence, he smiled back at me.
NINETEEN
As the result of a surprising and considerate suggestion from Enos, I travelled to the theatre on Easter morning disguised as one of his bishops, having exchanged my long, black cowled garments for one of their equally long if less voluminous white cowled robes. It was a chilly morning, beneath overcast skies, and as the wind bit through my ceremonial, clerical garb, I regretted the loss of my own cloak of thick black wool. But the substitution was indisputably to my advantage, for along the entire route, more than half a mile in length, no one in the watching crowds recognized me or took any notice of me, other than to gaze at the small chest I carried and wonder, perhaps, what it contained. A score more than a hundred of us walked in that silent, solemn procession, and I was the only sorcerer among the quadruple ranks. As we passed, the crowds fell into place behind us, following us towards the high outline of the great building that sat alone beyond the walls among treeless fields.
I heard some murmuring, even among the bishops, as it became plain that Arthur's entire army had been assembled on those meadows, drawn up behind its standards in regimented ranks and sitting stiffly in diligent readiness. Close by the theatre itself, the road passed through their formations and we walked forward between the masses of them ranked on either side. As the head of the procession passed, however, marked by a junior acolyte bearing a long staff surmounted by a purple shrouded cross, squad leaders shouted commands and each unit came to the salute, greeting the bishops and adding to the air of great solemnity.
I hitched the wooden chest I carried higher, tightening my grip on it. Inside, resting on a magnificent cushion that had been embroidered years before by Tressa as a gift for me, lay a crown of gold made to fit Arthur's head precisely. It was a simple coronet, no wider than my thumb—a plain, flat, golden ribbon—bearing no workings other than a small, plain cross at the front, in the centre of the forehead, and an artfully depicted knotted bow at the back, the trailing ends of which bore golden acorns. I had no notion of what the ancient Roman military crowns had looked like, but I had seen and admired the simplicity of Athol Mac Iain's golden coronet in Eire and I had copied that simplicity with confidence, setting our Colony's finest craftsmen to create it from my description.
Then, just as we were about to enter the theatre, I saw Arthur. My eyes were drawn to the scarlet and gold splendour of the cloak he wore, a cloak so distinctive and uniquely visible from afar that I had once pursued its wearer far along the coasts of Cornwall. He stood with his back to me, wide legged and elbows spread, so that the great golden dragon of his father's standard stretched its widespread wings across his shoulders. He was bareheaded, and I assumed that he cradled his helmet on his hip, beneath the cloak. Only then did I see that he was conferring with Benedict and several others, all of them travel weary and radiating tension as they listened avidly to their young leader. I recognized, too, from Arthur's posture, that something grave was afoot. I passed my burden to my closest neighbour immediately, asking him to take it to Enos, and stepped out of the procession.
Arthur caught sight of my white robe from the corner of his eye as I approached, and frowned in annoyance, his expression stating clearly that he had neither time nor willingness to concern himself with clerics at that moment. I stepped closer, and he was about to turn on me in anger when I laid my hand on his arm.
"Arthur, it's me. I changed my colours."
"Merlyn!" He swung his head to pierce me with his glare, ignoring my lame attempt at levity. "Thank the Christ you're here! We must cancel this—this affair today." He waved a dismissive hand towards the procession streaming into the building. "You'll have to postpone it, put it off, save it for a more appropriate time. I must be gone from here, right now. I was just about to issue orders to set out."
His eyes swept me from head to foot, taking in my unusual garb, but I saw no glimmer of curiosity or interest cross his face. I glanced beyond his shoulder and saw several people, including his own front ranks, staring at us with open curiosity, and I knew that some of them, particularly those among the common throng who might have been soldiers at one time or another, would think nothing of approaching us. Arthur's obviously simmering wrath might easily spill over upon such innocent provocation, I knew, and I had no desire to see such an incident occur, today of all days. I looked at Benedict, who nodded gravely to me, and then I eyed each of the others.
"Come," I said. "There are ears hungering here for single words." I led them farther off, to where no one could hear or approach us without being warned away. "Now, Arthur, what is it?'
"Invasion, Merlyn. Massive, immense invasion on a scale never before seen in Britain, not even when the Romans first arrived. Thousands of galleys—Ben's people could not keep count of them. "
"Good God! Ben, you were in the Weald?'
"Aye, I was, at first. But we fell back, according to orders, keeping well ahead of the enemy and unseen. They started out by marching north, then angled to the northwest, towards Londinium. That's where we almost lost everything, including our lives. Our eyes were on the enemy following us, an army of them. But they were a mere squad compared to what we found awaiting them behind us. It's more than an invasion fleet, Merlyn. We've all seen those before. This is a fleet of fleets, from what we could see. The whole Tamis River is thick with shipping, from Londinium to the sea, full forty miles and more of it, with scarcely a bare patch left on either side to beach a boat. "
>
"Wait! How can you know all this? Did you patrol the river banks?"
He shook his head. "No, but we met with Anglians fleeing from those parts, who told us what was happening. It was their flight that warned us just in time to avoid riding right in among the Saxons. Londinium's completely overrun and is serving as the rallying point for whoever these people are. According to the Anglians, they're Saxons, not Anglians or Danes, but that's all I know. As Arthur says, we crept close enough to look, but we lost count of their ships, so God alone can tell the numbers of their men. It's only by God's grace we escaped and won back here, but we were forced to hide and slide to do it, so we moved but slowly for a long, long time. I swear, Merlyn, none of us had ever seen the like of it. The land's crawling with Saxons, and they'll soon be here in Verulamium. "
I was biting my lip, appalled by the scope of what Benedict was describing. No wonder Arthur had been set to cancel this day's activities, I thought. It would be suicidal to do otherwise. But then my reason returned and I began to think more clearly.
"How far are the nearest pursuers behind you, Ben? Think!"
He frowned in concentration. "Perhaps several hours. We covered ground quickly, once we could do so without being seen. They could be here by tonight. "
"What about opposition? Are they likely to encounter any at all?"
Ben shook his head. "Not in Londinium. It's gone, already. They might have stopped there, though, if what Arthur says is true. They might be waiting there for Horsa, although I wouldn't care to hazard my life on that. There's a thin ring of our own troops out there, between them and us, but they'll be of little use if those whoresons come through at us in strength. "
