Arthur

THREE

Aelle and his carles came to our camp at dawn the next morning, and we departed, moving south along the Ouse. We travelled slowly because the Saecsens walked. They do not like horses and fear them. This made the journey tedious to begin with, and it was made more so by Arthur's decision to stay well away from Londinium.

But the weather cleared and held good for the while. As before, we camped at the ford of a river – the Stur, this time – and waited for Octa to come to us, which he did in exactly the same way as Aelle had done.

Octa came with Colgrim, his kinsman, and we met them at the ford – Aelle with us. This caused some distress on the far side of the Stur where Octa and Colgrim stood with their massed warbands. I could see them working on it: what did it mean? Had Aelle joined the enemy? Had they conquered him? But where was the British host?

Arthur let them take it in and then, as before, rode to the centre of the river and called to them. 'Octa! Colgrim! I want to speak to you!'

Colgrim conferred with Octa, who answered, 'Why have you come to us like this?' His eyes never left Aelle, who stood with his weapons at his side.

'I have come to make peace with you.'

Colgrim and Octa exchanged a puzzled glance. Again, it was Octa who answered, pointing to Aelle, 'Let Aelle go, and we will talk with you.'

'Aelle is free to come and go as he will.' Arthur lifted a hand to the Saecsen leader, who strode forth across the water to join his kinsmen on the other side. The three stood together, talking for a moment – with much gesturing and pointing in our direction.

Then Aelle turned and beckoned us to come forward. Arthur dismounted as soon as he set foot on the opposite shore, throwing his reins to Cai. The Saecsens regarded him with keen suspicion – as if this impressive show might somehow suddenly turn into a fatal ambush. Yet the sight of a British battlechief striding purposefully towards them, alone and unarmed, intrigued them. What was this madman doing?

'I am Arthur,' he told them – just as he had told Aelle. 'I am War Leader of Britain, and I have come to offer peace to you and your people.'

Colgrim and Octa stared at him, and then at Aelle. They muttered something to Aelle in the Saecsen tongue. Aelle answered them and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, smiling.

Then, before any of us could think or move, Aelle's hand darted to his belt and a knife Sashed out. Instantly, the knife was at Arthur's throat.

A trap! Arthur was helpless. Colgrim's hand went to the knife in his belt. Octa hefted up his axe and made to signal the war host.

But before Octa could cry out – indeed, before Cai or I could lift our hands to lash our horses forward to Arthur's defence – Aelle took the knife and, turning it in his hand, placed the handle in Arthur's hand. Then he raised the knife which Arthur now held and placed the blade over his own heart.

Naked amazement distorted the faces of the Saecsens. Colgrim and Octa stared as if they had just witnessed a miracle of the highest order. Perhaps they had.

Then, next thing I knew, the Saecsens were all chattering together at once and they were touching Arthur and pounding him on the back. Apparently, Aelle had accomplished more in that simple act – harrowing though it was – than whole days of coaxing and convincing could have achieved.

'I thought we were orphans,' I muttered to Cai, wiping my brow. Cai only grunted and rolled his eyes.

We did sit down and talk to them then. As before, Colgrim and Octa accepted the peace which Arthur offered and then called for food and drink to be brought, whereupon we ate and drank with them – which is how the Saecsen kind like to show peaceful intentions.

When we had done this, Colgrim rose up and declared – mostly through Octa, who showed some small skill with our tongue – that he would feast the British in honour of the new peace treaty. I could imagine nothing I would enjoy less. Feast with a Saecsen! It could not be done.

Nevertheless, we did it. Arthur insisted, and Myrddin agreed. 'We must honour the good that they intend,' Myrddin said. 'Sitting next to a Saecsen at the board will not harm you overmuch.'

'All the same,' grumbled Cai ominously, 'I am bringing my sword.'

Arthur allowed us our knives, but no swords, lances, or shields. 'It would not look right,' he said.

Well, I will say that it was not as bad as I feared… It was a good deal worse.

Think of it! For a start, the Saecsen idea of a feast is simply to heap mounds of badly-cooked meat onto the board and gorge on it until sated, whereupon you are supposed to drink whole butts of their sour beer. And, when everyone is falling-down drunk, they begin wrestling with one another. The two biggest among them pair off and all the others gather round and begin shouting at them, urging them on. The point of it seems to be for one to maim the other for life. They grunt and sweat and yell – all for the privilege of throwing one another into the fire.

When this display palls, they all fall exhausted onto the ground and one of their bards – or scops, as they are called – comes and begins raising the most horrible din. The Saecsen beat their fists on the ground in ecstasy over their scop's small accomplishments. The howling which greets his every word is enough to deafen a stump.

In short, a Saecsen feast is ghastly beyond belief. But they are barbarians, after all.

I thought that we would return to Caer Melyn. Having achieved a summer's respite from Saecsen raiding – which is how long I reckoned Arthur's peace would last – I expected Arthur to inform the small kings and await their replies. God's truth, I thought all hell would be loosed upon our heads when the British lords found out what Arthur had done.

Make peace with the Saecsens? The reason he had been made War Duke was so that he could rid us of them. And what does he do? He embraces them at first opportunity and gives them the land they stole from us.

So I thought we would go back to Caer Melyn to await the breaking of the storm. But I was wrong. We rode instead for Londinium and boarded a ship bound north for the Orcades. That is, Arthur, Myrddin and I. Pelleas and Cai took the warband back to Caer Melyn to await Bors' return.

Since we had days aboard ship, and little else to do, I managed to get out of Arthur exactly what he thought he was doing offering peace to Britain's enemies.

'We have been at war with the Saecsen, Pict, Scot and Irish for three hundred years and more. Think of it, Bedwyr! There has never been a generation to know peace on this island,' Arthur said, as we stood on deck watching the coastline rise and fall with the waves.

'There has never been a generation to know peace anywhere on this earth, God love you!'

"That may be true,' he allowed, 'but that does not mean it is not possible. I believe it can happen. But someone has to make a start.'

'You have made a start, Bear. But do not expect the small kings to shower gifts of gold upon your head. Gifts of steel, perhaps.'

"The killing must stop. If I must endure the hurt, so be it. I will endure it gladly, and more besides – but the fighting must end.' He smiled thoughtfully. 'It is no less than Our Lord the Christ did for men.'

I shook my head and looked out across the grey-waved sea, listening to the keen of the gulls following our wake. What Arthur said made a certain sense. But I knew Arthur – knew him, Blessed Saviour! – and I could not believe he was so innocent, so guileless and trusting about this.

'Do you not believe me?' asked Arthur, after a moment. I took my time answering. 'I believe you, Bear. And I pray God you are right, I swear it. But this is not like you.' I turned to find his clear blue eyes gazing at me, mirth drawing up the corners of his mouth. 'You think this is funny? I do not. I tell you it chills me to the marrow.

'Yes, it does! We have given land to our most deadly enemies – something even Vortigern in all his glory never contemplated. Yet we have done this, and asked for nothing but promises in return. Saecsen promises!' I blurted, and fell silent.

'You think me a fool.' Arthur's voice was quiet.

'God love you, Arthur, I know you are no fool. That is why this troubles me so. You are not yourself since you returned from Ynys Avallach.'

Arthur did not reply directly, but turned away to study the far horizon, his face as hard as the rock cliffs in the distance.

'What happened to you at Ynys Avallach?' I asked. I did not know if he would tell me, and at first I thought he would not.

But at last he spread his hands towards the distant shore and said, 'I saw a vision, Bedwyr. I saw a land alive with light. I saw a land blessed of the Living God, where all men lived as kinsmen and brothers. I saw a land – this land, this Britain – at peace under the rule of Justice and Right.

'I saw this, and much else besides. And I vowed to make it true. I have pledged my life to it, Bedwyr. My life is a sacrifice to the Summer Realm, for I am the Lord of Summer.'

What could I say to this? If he saw a vision, he saw a vision. But was this the right way to go about it?

Arthur laughed suddenly. 'So maybe I am a fool after all, eh?'

'God's truth, Bear, I do not know what to think.'

'I will tell you something else, shall I?' he raised his eyebrows and jerked his head back towards the sea cliffs. The north is very far away from the south, you know.'

'Well I know it. We would not be on this leaky tub if it were otherwise.'

He nodded, his mirth turning waggish. 'No one has yet discovered a way to fight the Picts and Angles in the north while the Saecsens raid in the south. Jesu knows that I cannot be in two places at once.'

'Meaning?'

‘He is a strong lord, with many ships and a good warband.

'Meaning?'

'The war will be fought and won in the north. Our freedom will be won in the north, or lost there.'

He saw by the expression on my face that I thought this unlikely. 'You doubt me?' he asked. 'Consider this, then: every invasion has always come from the north. It is the swiftest way into the heart of Britain. The Romans understood this – just as they discovered that it is impossible to defend." He flung a hand to the wavering coast. 'There are ten thousand bays and coves on this sea – and each one a hiding-place for Sea Wolves. They have only to make landfall and the Picti, or their own kind, will welcome them.'

'Aelle and Colgrim attacked the south,' I pointed out.

'Did they?'

'You know that they did.'

'Are you like the others? Think, Bedwyr! How were they able to strike so quickly? How were they able to order their attack so?'

I stared blankly back at him, for I did not know.

'It is too far to come from Saecsland. The sea journey is too difficult – and then to fight at the end of it? It cannot be done. So what did they do? Think, Bedwyr!'

'I am thinking, Artos! What did they do?'

'It is so simple! They made landfall in the north and wintered there. This they were able to do because they had friends waiting for them. They gathered their forces from those who had come before; they amassed ships and weapons and men through the summer. Then, when they were ready, they swept down from the north to attack the brittle defences of the south.' Arthur smiled grimly. 'As I said, the swiftest, surest way to the south is through the north.'

Yes, it was true what he said. I had not thought of it that way before, but I recognized the truth now that he explained it to me. What is more, this was the Arthur I knew and remembered. I told him so.

'You think because I want peace I have lost the craft of war?' He shook his head slowly. 'I have not changed, my friend – not enough anyway.'

'So what are we doing now? What can we accomplish in the north, just the three of us?'

'We are going to hold council with King Lot of Orcady. He is a strong lord, with many ships and a good warband. I would see whether he will support me.'

'Ships? You have horses, now you want ships?'

'I want as many ships as I can get – as many as Lot will give me. Then I mean to build the rest. I want a fleet such as the great Caesar had when he came to the Island of the Mighty.'

'But we cannot fight on ships.'

'Oh yes, we can. And, what we do not know of it, we shall learn. Even if we do not fight with our ships, we must have some way to move horses and men more swiftly than over land. That is too slow, and – '

'I know: the north is very far from the south, and you cannot be in two places at once.'

Arthur grinned and slapped me on the back. 'Well done! I was beginning to think you slow witted.' He rose from the railing and stretched. 'But all this talk has made me thirsty. Let us have some beer.'

I watched him move off along the deck, thinking, Do I know this man, after all? He turned and called, 'Not thirsty?' And, never one to turn away a cup, I hurried after him.

The Orcades are a huddle of bare rocks that poke from the northern sea like the heads and shoulders of drowned giants. They are covered with a green crust of earth, so that the scrawny sheep have something to eat. It is an unlikely place to find a lord of Lot's repute. More a hoarding of small settlements than a realm. Yet the lords of Ynysoedd Erch have ever held their own with a fierce and justifiable pride.

I wondered what our reception would be. Certainly, Lot would welcome an alliance with the south. His position could hardly be comfortable in the best of times – with Picti and Angli between him and the southern lords. But he existed, some said, by trade and friendship with the Angli and Saecsen. Mind, I have never known anyone to make that accusation to Lot's face.

As our ship neared Llyscait, where Lot's stronghold overlooked the deep stone-lined bay, the sun dimmed as it passed behind the clouds. The quick chill off the water made me shiver. But it was not only the cold, I think.

We were met by a small boat which came out to us from the rock-strewn shingle. The boatmen hailed us and called for news. Some of our ship's hands obliged them, and then Myrddin bade them take us to Lord Lot.

This they were happy to do, although it meant that we were made to slither over the side of the ship, to drop inglori-ously into their boat, whereupon they rowed us to shore. As we bumped to a halt on the shingle, there appeared a welcoming party.

'Greetings, and God's blessings be on you, my lords, if you come in peace,' said the foremost among them. His words were gracious, but I saw that those with him wore swords and had long knives tucked into their belts.

'God be good to you,' replied Myrddin, 'peace is our sole ambition.'

'Then may it go well with you while you shelter here among us. Will you greet our king?'

'We would like nothing better. And you can tell Lord Lot that the Duke of Britain has come to hold council with him.'

Lot's adviser cocked his head to one side. 'Are you the Arthur we hear of?'

Myrddin shook his head slowly and put out a hand to the young man beside him. 'This is Arthur.'

The man's expression changed from wary acceptance to astonished disbelief. 'You? You are Arthur?' 'I am,' the Duke answered.

'We have come a long way, and we are tired,' said Myrddin.

The adviser turned at once to Myrddin. 'I am sorry, Emrys. Forgive me, I – 'he began, for he realized at once who Myrddin must be.

'It is of no importance. Please, take us to Lot.' 'At once, Emrys.' The man turned on his heel and we were escorted from the beach and up a long, snaking passageway cut in the rock to a caer walled in stone and surrounded by gorse. The gate stood open and we passed through into a small, well-ordered yard.

Lot stood in the centre of the yard, arms crossed on his chest, scowling at three horses standing at halter before him. He turned his head towards us as we entered, and, like his man on the beach, his aspect altered at once – but not entirely for the better.

Although he threw open his arms and embraced Myrddin, I could not help thinking that his greeting was forced. 'Myrddin, you look well. It has been long and long since we last met. You are welcome here.' Lot smiled, but his smile did not touch his coldly distant eyes.

'Thank you, lord,' replied Myrddin. 'Time has been a boon to you. I see you have prospered.'

Lot nodded, but did not reply. Instead, he turned abruptly to Arthur. 'This can only be Duke Arthur, of whom so much is told.' He extended the same chilly greeting to Arthur, then looked to me.

'I am Bedwyr,' I told him. 'God be good to you, lord.'

'Ah, Bedwyr ap Bleddyn of Rheged. We have heard of you, too,' Lot said, and barked an awkward laugh. 'Do not look surprised. We are not so solitary as it seems. The commerce of these little islands rivals that of Londinium itself, I believe. We hear much, and see more that passes unnoticed elsewhere.'

'Much indeed,' I said, 'if you have heard of me.'

These formalities observed, Lot turned his attention once more to the horses, explaining, 'These animals have been sent me from a trader in Monoth. I can find no fault with them. Still, I am not liking what I see.' The king appealed to Arthur, saying, 'Perhaps you can show me what I am missing.'

'I will help if I can,' replied Arthur. He approached the horses and walked around them for a moment, pausing to stroke each one and feel its flesh. I studied them, too, for I knew horses well.

'The two on either side are well enough, if a little light in the hindquarters. They would be swift, but I think they would tire quickly over rough ground. The one in the centre, however, is the one you should choose.'

'Oh? That, to my thinking, is the one least suitable of all.'

'He is young still,' replied Arthur, 'but he will flesh out, given time.'

'See how he stands – as if his legs hurt him,' protested Lot mildly, showing, I thought, a good deal more discernment than he admitted to.

'It is his shoes,* explained Arthur. 'I suspect he was shod just before bringing him here, but the work was hurried, and carelessly done.'

Lot approached the horse, stooped, and lifted a foreleg to examine the hoof. 'It is true,' he said, letting the hoof drop. 'The shoe is too big and the nails are poorly placed. It is a marvel he can stand at all.'

'Have him re-shod properly and you will see a different

animal '

'I commend you, Duke Arthur; you know horses,' said Lot, regarding Arthur carefully. 'Do you know ships as well?'

'I know that ships are faster than horses in reaching the far places where the enemy hides. I know that the Angli and Irish must come here in ships, and can be stopped with ships. I know that the shipwrights of Orcady build the finest ships in the Island of the Mighty.' Arthur paused, and then added with a shrug. 'Beyond this, I confess that I am ignorant of ships. That is why I have come.'

Lot appraised Arthur through narrowed eyes, as if to take his measure against the words he had uttered. Satisfied at last, the king held out a hand towards the hall. 'Come, Duke Arthur, I think that we must talk.'