Arthur

ELEVEN

We departed the Glass Isle the next day as we had planned, much to Charis' misgiving. It was not a happy farewell. We all knew too much of the evil stalking the land, and the havoc Morgian could wreak with her power. Our thoughts were heavy with foreboding.

The world, with the change of season, had become a colder, wilder place. Summer had fled like a hart through the brake, and an early winter stood poised for the chase.

The land brooded doom. Menacing, sinister – as if desolation lurked behind every tree and destruction behind every hill. Wickedness inhabited each wilderness, and iniquity streamed from every lonely place.

I do not recall ever passing through a land so gravid with apprehension. The way became strange; familiar pathways seemed malignant with peril. Every plodding step was laboured and slow.

Merlin, wrapped in his cloak, journeyed with his head down, hands folded on the pommel of his saddle. A passer-by might have mistaken his attitude for that of prayerful meditation. It was not. It was the posture of a defeated chieftain returning in humiliation and disgrace.

One grey afternoon, as we rode through Morganwg's lands, we encountered a band of Iceni fifty strong – old men, women, and children mostly – leading a few head of cattle and some sheep. Four wagons creaked slowly along behind them. Aside from the lowing of the cattle, and the creak of the wagon wheels, they made no sound as they trudged through the gathering mist.

Merlin hailed them and they halted to give us the sorry news: their settlement and many others like it had been destroyed by a Saecsen raid three days before.

'That is bitter to hear,' replied Merlin in all sympathy.

'There is no cheer in the telling,' spat the group's leader, a man with an axe wound in his side. 'The shore forts fell at once. There was no defence at all.'

'What of Coledac?' wondered Merlin.

'Killed with the warband. Every man of them dead. No one escaped, and the Sea Wolves left none alive. When the strongholds fell, the barbarians turned to the farms. We fled when we saw the smoke in the east.'

'Our settlement was small – the others were attacked first… and destroyed,' lamented the haggard woman who stood beside him.

'That is so,' agreed the man unhappily. 'I fear the other holdings had the worst of it. From what we are hearing, it was much worse in the south along the Saecsen Shore.'

Commending them to God, we rode on.

That night Merlin gazed into the flames of our desultory camp fire searching for a sign. There was little hope in what he saw, little light to hold against the gathering darkness. In all it was a drear and cheerless journey, and a sorry return.

We arrived at Caer Melyn in driving rain. Soaked to the skin, shivering with cold, we stood before the fire in Arthur's new-finished hall, feeling the life seep back into our stiff limbs. Arthur brought spiced wine to us and served us from his own hand.

'Myrddin! Pelleas! It is a fine and happy sight I am seeing! Welcome, welcome!' Arthur called in greeting. His smile was as immense as it was genuine. 'How did you fare in the south, my friends?'

Merlin did not have it in him to soften his reply. 'Disaster threatens, boy,' he said, 'and darkness must soon overtake us.'

Arthur, the smile still on his broad happy face, glanced from one to the other of us, as if unwilling to believe. Indeed, the hall was warm, the fire bright – despairing words held little meaning. 'How so?'

'There is a power in this land that will not be appeased until all are in subjection to it.'

'Well, that is a worry for another day. Tonight, I am with my friends and the wine is good.' He lifted his cup. 'To our enemies' enemies! And to your safe return!'

It was Arthur's welcome alone, I believe, which turned the tide of misery for Merlin.

For I saw my master behold the young Duke in all his youthful zeal, the light of life burning so brightly in him, that he determined for Arthur's sake to put the gloom and depression that had dogged our journey behind him. I saw the line of Merlin's shoulders lift; I saw his chin rise. And though the smile with which he returned Arthur's welcome was forced, it was a smile nonetheless, and the greeting with it true.

Thus, soon after our arrival at Caer Melyn the pall which hung over Merlin's spirit began to lift. This was Arthur's doing, as I have said. For even then he was* beginning to display that rarest of qualities: a joy inspired by hardship, deepened by adversity, and exalted by tragedy.

Arthur could find the golden beam of hope in defeat, the single glimmer of blue in the storm-fretted sky. It was this that made him such a winning leader – the kind of man for whom other men gladly lay down their lives. Arthur's enthusiasm and assurance were the flint and steel to the dry tinder of men's hearts. Once he learned to strike the spark, he could set the flame any time he chose. And that was a sight to see, I tell you.

That night, as we stood together before the hearth, my master found reason to hope against all evidence to the contrary. He began, I think, to sense the shape of our salvation: it was larger, grander, higher, purer and far more potent than he had ever imagined.

'Of course,' he would say later, 'it had to be like this. There was no other way!'

That would come in time. All in good time. And not for a long, long time. But it would come.

That night of homecoming, however, it was only young Arthur lifting our hearts with his boundless joy at our return. Oh, how he loved Merlin!

'Tell me about your journey,' Arthur said, as the board was being readied for supper. 'Did Ban receive you? Will he help? Is he sending aid? When will it – '

'Arthur, please!' cried Merlin, holding up his hand to stay the flood of Arthur's curiosity. 'One question at a time.'

'Answer any one you like, only tell me something!'

'I will tell you everything,' Merlin promised. 'Only let us sit down and discuss it in a civilized manner. We have ridden far today and I am hungry.' We took our places at the board to await the stew.

'There,' said Arthur when we had our cups in hand. 'Now sing, bard. I am waiting.'

'Yes, Ban received us. Yes, he is sending aid. Supplies will arrive as soon as the harvest is gathered – '

'Well done!' Arthur slapped the board, making our cups jump. 'Well done, Myrddin! I knew you would succeed.'

' – men will arrive in the spring with Bors.' To Arthur's look of amazement, he added. 'Yes, in addition to supplies, Ban is sending his warband and his brother Bors to lead them. They are yours to command.'

'Better and better!' cried Arthur, leaping up. 'Cai! Bedwyr!' he called across the hall as the door opened to a group of men just entering. 'Come here!'

Shaking rain from their cloaks, the two came to stand at the board, dripping water over us. 'Greetings, Myrddin… Pelleas,' said Bedwyr. 'What news do you bring us?'

'Is Ban with us?' asked Cai. Apparently, the king of Benowyc's disposition was much on everyone's mind.

'Men and supplies!' Arthur fairly shouted. 'Bors is bringing his warband.'

'Horses, too?' asked Bedwyr.

'A hundred warriors, and horses for all. Supplies enough for them and us, too. That is the bargain.'

Bedwyr and Cai grinned at one another, and at Arthur. Bedwyr clapped Merlin on the back, saying, 'Truly, you are a wonder worker, Myrddin!'

'Cups!' called Cai. 'Bring us something to drink! We must celebrate our good fortune.'

They are not coming until the spring,' Merlin told him.

'We will celebrate then, too,' laughed Bedwyr. 'You would not deny us the first good news we have heard since you left.'

'Why? What has happened while we were away?'

Bedwyr glanced at Arthur, who said, 'We have heard that Morcant has made an alliance with Coledac and Idris against me.'

'Owen Vinddu has pledged men and horses to them,' muttered Cai. 'This, when he told us he could not spare an oat or he would starve this winter. Curse the lot of them!'

'By summer they hope to field a war host a thousand strong against us,' added Bedwyr. 'More if they can get other lords to throw in with them.'

The hurt in their voices was real enough, the sense of betrayal strong. Merlin nodded in sympathy. 'Well,' he offered, 'it may not come to that. One of them, at least, will be in no position to make war against you in the spring.'

'Why? What do you know?' asked Arthur.

'Coledac is dead,' Merlin said, 'and most of his warband with him.'

'Ha!' barked Cai mirthlessly. 'Treachery repaid.'

'What happened?' asked Bedwyr.

'Sea Wolves have taken the Saecsen Shore.' Merlin let the significance of this news grow in them.

Arthur was first to speak. 'How bad was it?'

'The strongholds seized and the settlements burned – the small holdings as well. Coledac was killed in the first onslaught and the warband routed. No one escaped. After that there was no defence.'

Arthur, eyes narrowed, weighing the danger in his mind, gripped the brass cup between his hands, bending the metal. 'How far inland have they come?'

'It is not certain,' Merlin replied. 'From what we were told, the maui attack appears to have taken place further south.'

Thus was it a sombre group that assembled to celebrate our return. The next days, the dire news was repeated once and again, as straggling groups of homeless came to the caer seeking shelter on their way to the west.

Gradually, from many confused and conflicting stories, the truth emerged: Saecsens under a war leader named Aelle had overrun several of the old fortresses on the south-east coast between the Wash and the Thamesis. The main attack, however, was concentrated a little further south between the Thamesis and the Afon, the old lands of the Cantii. This assault was led by a king named Colgrim, with the aid of another – Octa, the son of Hengist now grown, and returned to avenge his father's death.

This south-eastern region is the Saecsen Shore, so called by the Romans for the linked system of beacons and outposts erected along the coast to protect against raiding Sea Wolves.

It was along this same stretch of southern coast that Vortigern settled Hengist and Horsa and their tribes, in the vain hope of ending the incessant raiding that was slowly bleeding Britain dry. And it was from this coast that the barbarians spilled out to flood the surrounding land, until Aurelius contained, defeated and banished them.

Now they were back, taking once more the land Hengist had overrun. The Saecsen Shore – its name would remain, but henceforth for a different reason. These invaders meant to stay.

We worried at this through the long winter. The thought of Saecsens seizing British lands burned in Arthur like a banked fire, but there was nothing to be done save endure the ignominy of it. Indeed, we had no other choice. We had to await Bors' arrival in the spring with the needed men. And then, Morcant must be brought to heel before we could even consider facing the Saecsens.

In all, it was a sorry winter for us. Despite Ban's generous gift of provisions, food began running low just before midwinter. We had grain enough, thanks to Ban, but no meat. The eve of the Christ Mass found us riding the hunting runs, clutching our spears in stiff, frozen hands, hoping to sight a deer, or pig, or hare – anything that would put meat on the board.

Merlin sang often in the hall, doing what he could to keep our spirits up. But spring found our courage at lowest ebb nonetheless, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Bors with Ban's men. With each day that passed, Arthur's resentment of the small kings hardened and his anger against them grew.

Spring saw no improvement. The weather stayed cold, the sky grey. Day upon day, icy rain whipped the southern hills. The wild wind howled through long chill nights; and it seemed the earth would never warm beneath the sun, nor know any milder clime again.

Then, one day, the weather broke. The clouds parted and the sun shone brightly in the high, blue sky. Light returned to the land. And with it came the news that we had feared all winter.

The messenger's feet had hardly touched the ground when the cry went up: Morcant rides against us!

'Where?' asked Arthur.

The messenger wiped sweat from his forehead. 'They are coming along the coast. They will have crossed the Ebbw by now.'

Arthur nodded sharply. The Ebbw river formed the eastern border of Arthur's realm. By riding along the Mor Hafren coast a force could move much faster than one having to thread the winding glens. It was speed Morcant wanted.

'How many?'

'Three hundred.'

'What!' Cai demanded. He had hastened to Arthur's side at the arrival of the rider. 'How did the old lion raise so many?'

'There is time yet before we meet them.' With the coming of spring, Arthur had ordered the ring of smaller hill forts to be manned with watchers – especially those along the coast, where he hoped for word of Ban's ships arriving any day. It was the watchman at Penygaer who saw Morcant's forces crossing the Ebbw estuary along the coast.

'Artos,' said Cai calmly, 'how do you propose to meet them? It is seventy against three hundred.'

'I admit the fight is not even,' Arthur's grin was lopsided and reckless, 'but Morcant will just have to survive as best he can.' He turned to me. 'Pelleas, fetch Bedwyr and Myrddin. We will gather in my chambers.'

'At once, lord.'

He and Cai strode off across the yard as the hunting horn sounded the alarm. I found Merlin and Bedwyr together at one of the granaries, examining our dwindling supply of barley.

'Hail, Pelleas,' called Bedwyr as I dashed towards them. He saw my face and his smile of welcome faded. 'What is it? What is wrong?'

'Morcant is riding against us. He is on his way here now with three hundred.'

'We cannot meet them,' observed Bedwyr. 'There are just too many. Even with Meurig's warband, they would still outman us three to one.'

'Where are they?' Merlin asked. His tone showed no surprise or concern.

'They have crossed the Ebbw river at the coast to take us from the south.'

'Yes,' mused Merlin, 'that is what I would do.'

'There is no time to ride to Caer Myrddin anyway.'

'We are to meet Arthur in his chambers at once,' I told them.

Arthur and Cai sat over the long board in Arthur's chambers, at one end of the hall. 'It is not possible,' Cai was saying as we entered, 'and even if it were, the risk is terrible.'

Arthur smiled and reached across the board to ruffle Cai's red curls. Trust Cai to count the risk.'

'God's honour! That is the truth. I do heed the risk. Someone must.' Cai folded his arms across his chest, glowering out from beneath his copper-coloured brows.

'What impossible thing is he proposing this time?" Bedwyr laughed as he sat down on the bench. I settled beside him; Merlin remained standing.

Cai, a pained expression pinching his ruddy features, put up his hands. 'Do not ask me to repeat it. I will not.'

Arthur gazed placidly at Cai and then shrugged. 'Perhaps he is right – it cannot be done.' He turned to Bedwyr and Merlin. 'Well, wise advisers? Advise me wisely, or Morcant will.'

We all looked at one another, silently calculating our chances of surviving this day.

'Well,' said Merlin after a moment, 'perhaps it is a day for impossible feats. Who knows?'

'It seems we have no other choice,' muttered Cai.

'Are we to know this impossible plan of yours?' demanded Bedwyr. 'Speak it out.'

'I was only thinking,' began Arthur slowly, 'you know how these hills catch the echoes… '

The sun stood directly overhead and there was'still no sign of Morcant's war host. Scouts had been dispatched and had returned with confirmation that indeed a force of three hundred or more were approaching along the coast. They had crossed the Ebbw and were making for Glyn Rominw – the vale of the Rominw river.

The deep glen circled Caer Melyn, describing a half-moon arc to the east before curving away to meet Mor Hafren just to the south. Any attacking army would find it a natural roadway straight into the heart of Arthur's realm.

The young Duke knew the vale for what it was, and knew his enemies would regard it a weakness. But part of Arthur's genius lay in his remarkable ability to read the land.

He had only to see a place once to know it – each hill and hollow, every freshet and stream, every dingle and dell, rock cliff and standing stone. He knew where it was safe to ford, where the ground cover was thickest, where the hidden trails met and where they led. He knew all the ancient tracks and ridgeways, where men might safely ride without being seen, how the fields of the various realms were laid, which height would afford protection, which lowland a hiding-place, where natural defences could be found, where the land favoured attack, or retreat, or ambush…

All these things and more Arthur could read in the fold and crease of the earth. The land spoke to him, readily revealing its secrets to his quick eyes.

This is how I came to be squatting on a hillside overlooking a ford on the Rominw, holding a blackthorn bush before me, surrounded by a company of warriors, each similarly hidden. Across the glen, Cai, with another company, lay hidden behind a low, grassy rise. And to the north another company; to the south another, and so on all along the vale.

Tune passed. I sat watching cloud shadows on the hillside opposite me or gazing south along the curving length of the river, listening for the sound of the approaching warband and wondering what detained them – thinking that perhaps they had not chosen Glyn Rominw after all.

The wind had shifted to the north, making the sound of Morcant's approach more difficult to hear – if indeed he had entered the vale. What was taking the old lion so long?

Perhaps he had continued on along the coast to come at us out of the west. Perhaps he had forded the Rominw and crossed back to the east to come inland along one of the smaller streams. Perhaps he had – the thought never finished itself, for at that moment I heard it: the quick, rolling drum of horses hooves upon the earth.

I craned my neck to the south and peered through the branches of my blackthorn bush. A moment later I saw them, Morcant's forces moving through the glen. They came on in a loose pack; there were no orderly ranks, no coherent divisions of any sort. They spread across the valley floor in a ragged swarm. More a mob than a force of disciplined men.

That was the pith of it! So arrogant was Morcant, so smug and self-assured, so confident in his superior numbers, he made no attempt at order in his ranks. He meant to overwhelm Arthur's warband – like a wave on the shore, to simply wash over us and crush us with its all-engulfing weight.

I watched the unruly throng stream into the valley below, and anger leapt up, a hot red flame within me. Fool! Morcant esteemed Arthur not at all. So lacking in respect he did not even deem it wisdom to order his ranks. Oh, the insolence was blinding, the pride deafening.

I saw it all and did not care that we were only seventy against three hundred. Blessed Jesu, if we die today, let it be as true warriors with honour.

The first foemen had reached the ford. Some splashed through the stream, others stopped to drink – the ignorant louts. Careless and stupid in their arrogance. My anger burned more fiercely in me.

As soon as the main body of the warband reached the opposite bank, a mighty shout went up, an all-encompassing shout, a shout to shake the roots of the world. 'ALLELUIA!'

I looked and saw Merlin standing alone on the hilltop, arms raised over his head, his cloak loose and blowing. At the very same instant there came an answer from across the glen. 'A-1-l-e-l-u-i-a!'

The echoes rang. 'Alleluia!… Alleluia!'

I joined in the gladdening cry, and the warriors with me on die hillside shouted too. 'Alleluia!'

The shouts were coming from all along the glen now, the echoes pealing like bells, ringing on and on. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

The effect was immediate and dramatic. At that first enormous shout, the enemy had halted. The cries of alleluia assailed them from every side. They scanned the hillside for the foe, but saw no one. Now the echoes encircled them, pelting down upon them… Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Morcant's host scattered. The main body drove back across the stream into those still straggling behind. Seeing the ford hopelessly blocked, others turned to the hills. A group of twenty broke off, riding straight towards us.

We let them come. Nearer… nearer…

With a mighty shout we threw off the blackthorn branches that hid us. 'Alleluia!'

Up we leapt, sword in hand, striking, pulling the startled riders from their saddles. We struck them to the ground and sent their terrified horses back down the hill into the confused host. I looked across the glen. The same thing was happening on the opposite hillside, as astonished warriors disappeared behind the grassy rise where Cai's men waited.

Shouting, raving, screaming, the vale throbbed with the unearthly and unnerving sound. Morcant's war host, confronted by this invisible, seemingly invincible foe, bolted in chaotic retreat back down the valley.

Seeing this, we ran for our horses, tethered behind the crest of the hUl. But a few heartbeats later we were hurtling down the face of the hill and into the retreating war host. Morcant and Cerdic stood at the ford, their warriors fleeing away like a flood parting around them. They raged at the men, screaming for them to turn and fight.

And then there was Arthur in their midst with his eleven. They had simply appeared, it seemed – sprung to life from the rocks at their very feet, horses and all.

It was too much. Cerdic wheeled his horse and fled after his men. Morcant was too crazy with rage to heed his own danger. He lifted his sword and rode at Arthur. The two met. There was a quick flash of steel and Morcant fell. His body rolled into the stream and the king lay still.

The fight did not end there. We escaped death that day, nothing more.

Though we were all grateful to walk the land of the living, as the sun faded behind the western hills and we returned to the caer we knew that only a battle had been won. We suffered no losses, and only two men wounded. Cerdic had fled with his warband almost intact; he would nurse the injury to his pride for a season and then he would return to avenge his father. Others who thought to gain from the strife would rally to him, and the war would go on.

While we Britons fought among ourselves, the ships would come; the settlements would burn. More and still more land would fall beneath the shadow. And the Saecsen kind would grow strong in Britain once more.