Grail

THIRTEEN

My heart seized in my chest. I stared at the creature, not daring to draw breath. The thing was squat and repulsive, with two long arms and a large-skulled, flat head. Its short legs were drawn up as it sat on its rump, its back curved sharply as its dark head descended towards Peredur's face.

At first I feared the thing must have killed him, for the young warrior lay with arms and legs splayed out as he had fallen. But as that ghastly head drew near, Peredur moaned. By that I knew he lived.

Instantly, my hand went to the sword belt at my side. As my fingers closed and began to draw the weapon forth, the creature halted and, quick as a cat, turned its gaze on me. A more grotesque face I never want to see: low-browed and thin-jawed, with a nose like a shrivelled leaf, nostrils a-twitch as it sniffed the air; a goatlike mouth with long yellow teeth gaped open in a hiss of warning. Two wide, pale eyes menaced me from beneath the heavy brow as the head sank lower onto the shoulders and the long hands clutched at its prize.

Great King, save your servant! I thought, and the thought was answered by a low guttural growl bubbling up from the hideous creature's throat. I fell back.

With a scream, the creature leapt from Peredur's chest, charging straight at me with terrible swiftness. I stumbled back another step, tripped over broken wood, and fell down. The thing was upon me in an instant. The beast's awful breath smelled of rotted meat and foul decay. I felt its sudden weight upon my chest, driving the breath from my lungs. I made to throw the creature off, but could no longer raise my arms. It was as if all the strength had gone from my limbs, and I could but lie and watch in horror as the odious thing lowered its face towards mine.

Alas, for me! I could not move. I could not breathe.

The repugnant head dropped slowly nearer, and the toothy mouth opened. Striving with all my might, I could not so much as lift my smallest finger. I felt myself gripped tight by a strength greater than my own.

Closer, drooling now, the evil mouth drew nearer, and nearer yet. I saw the small, neat, sharp teeth as the mouth opened and the creature prepared to bite.

My lungs burned. Frozen fast, I could but watch the dread face slowly descend, its baleful eyes blotting out all else, filling my sight, staring into my soul.

Even as I watched – I could do no else! – the face utterly changed and I found myself beholding the face of a woman, a beauty more lovely than any other I had ever known. Lithe-limbed and supple, she reached to gather me in her gentle arms, her long dark hair falling down around her white shoulders. Her breasts were full and round, and wonderful to look upon; her shapely hips were smooth and her long legs folded beneath her. She smiled, and her teeth were fine and white and straight. A goddess could not be more beautiful, I think, and despite my fear, desire stirred within me.

She lowered herself to cover me with her fair body, and I felt myself drawn into her embrace. My lungs swelled to bursting, yet I could not draw breath. The blood beat in my temples and dark mist gathered before my eyes. God help me, I rose to meet her.

Then, even as I felt the sweet gentleness of her soft lips on mine, and felt my breath drawn from my mouth, there came a shriek so loud, so piercing, I feared my head would split. In the same instant, the woman vanished, and the beast appeared once more, its mouth open in a scream of rage.

I sensed a swift movement above me and a dark shape descending. The loathsome thing made to leap away, but the falling shape caught the creature full on its flattened skull with a tremendous crack. The monster threw back its head and howled. Crack! The dark shape sent it sprawling.

Suddenly I could breathe again. Good air came rushing into my mouth and lungs, and I gulped it down like a drowning man who has risen from the killing depths.

Peredur was standing over me, the broken end of a massive branch in his hands. His jaw was set and his eyes were narrowed. Still gasping, I turned my gaze to where he was looking, and saw the black beast writhing on the ground, biting itself in agony.

'Blessed Jesu,' I gasped, 'save us.'

At these simple words, the vile thing loosed a shriek yet more terrible than any I had ever heard. There came a sizzling sound and it vanished into a sudden vapour, leaving behind only the echo of its tortured scream, and a stench of bile and vomit.

Peredur turned to me. He tried to speak, but lacked words to equal the event, and so closed his mouth and gazed in wonder at the place where the beast had disappeared. Then he raised the club in his hand and looked at it as if he did not know how it had come to be there. He threw the weapon aside with an expression of disgust. 'I feared it might have killed you,' he said, almost apologetically.

'You did the right thing,' I assured him.

Peredur shivered and glanced down. Only then did he realize that he was naked. He glanced guiltily at me, but I turned away so he would have no need to make the explanation he was struggling to find. I knew well what had been in his mind when he shed both siarc and breecs.

'Your clothes are here,' I told him, gathering up the bundle where I had dropped it. He accepted the clothing with shamefaced gratitude. 'I did not see what happened to your boots.'

'I -1 mean, it was -' he stammered.

'Save your breath, lad,' I advised gently. 'You owe me neither explanation nor confession. We were attacked, and fought it off. There is nothing else to say.'

Peredur closed his mouth and began drawing on his breecs. We then picked our way back to the ruined hall. Our camp, I was relieved to find, remained undisturbed; both Llenlleawg and Tallaght slept soundly.

'Lord, let us leave at once,' said Peredur. 'Let us get far away from here before we are attacked again.'

Though it was the dead of night, and darker than the inside of a burial mound, I agreed. 'We may not get far in this darkness,' I told him, 'but at least we will get away from here.'

We quickly saddled the horses and prepared to depart, then turned to wake the sleepers. Despite our vigorous attempts to raise them, however, the two slept on. Nothing we did made the slightest difference. 'Let us put them on the horses anyway,' suggested Peredur in desperation.

'We would have to tie them to the saddle,' I replied, 'to keep them from sliding off at every step. No, Peredur, as much as I wish to be gone from here, we could easily come to greater harm stumbling around like blind men in the dark. If we are going to be hauling men like mealbags on horseback, I think we must wait until daylight.' Indicating his feet, I said, 'You cannot walk back to Ynys Avallach barefoot.'

With great misgiving and greater dread, Peredur set about building up the fire and together we stood watch for the rest of the night, weapons in hand, our backs to the flames as we searched the darkness, talking to one another to keep fear at bay.

Dawn seemed a long time coming. When the sun finally rose, it cast but a wan grey light over us – as on those days in the north when the mist comes down and lingers on the heathered hills, but there was no cooling mist, and the hills hereabouts held only dry scrub and thorns.

As soon as it grew light enough to see the path, we broke camp. Peredur retraced his steps to the blighted wood, returning quickly with his boots, anxious to get away from the ruined caer as soon as possible. We turned to the sleepers and tried again to wake them. Tallaght had finally lost the unnatural rigidity of his limbs, and now lay peacefully asleep. I bent to remove the strip of cloth from his eyes and the young man came awake at my first touch. Up he charged, as if from a bed of live coals. He flew into me, fists flying, kicking, biting, shouting incoherently.

'Here! Here, now!' I cried, fending off the blows as well as I could.

Peredur leapt to my aid and pulled him off me. 'Peace!' he bellowed. 'Peace, brother!' Wrapping his arms around Tallaght's torso, he threw him to the ground and fell on top of him to hold him down, all the time shouting, 'Peace! We are your friends.'

Kneeling beside him, I struck the struggling warrior sharply on the cheek. Tallaght, wake!'

At the sound of his name, the fight went out of him. He looked from one to the other of us with frightened eyes as recognition slowly came to him. 'Oh!' he said, squeezing his eyes shut.

'Let him up, Peredur,' I said, and we raised him between us, where he stood wobbling on his feet like a man with a headful of ale.

'It is over, Tallaght. You are back among the living,' I told him.

He lurched towards me and seized my arm with both hands. 'Lord Gwalchavad, forgive me. I thought… I thought you were -' He released my arm and clutched his head as if it hurt him. 'Oh, Jesu save me, I had the strangest dream.'

'It is over, lad,' I said. 'Are you well?'

'I feel as if I have slept a thousand years,' he answered dreamily, 'and yet, as if I had closed my eyes but a moment ago.' He then began babbling about his curious dream, but I brought him to a halt before he could gallop any further. 'Plenty of time to talk once we are on the trail,' I told him sharply. 'The horses are ready; we are leaving at once.'

I left him to Peredur and turned to Llenlleawg, who, though stiff and aching from his beating, at least had his natural wits about him. He roused himself slowly when I woke him, and made to sit up, wincing with pain at the effort. I put my arm beneath his shoulders and raised him. 'How do you feel, brother?'

'Never better,' he rasped, his voice raw as a wound. He then hacked up a gob of blackened gall and spat it on the ground. 'Have I been long asleep?'

'Not long,' I allowed. 'Only all night and half the day besides.'

'I see.' He licked his dry lips. 'How did you find me?'

'We saw the smoke. Can you sit a horse?'

'I will sit a goat if it bears me from this place,' he answered.

'Bring it on, brother, and the sooner we quit this accursed ruin, the better I will be. Have you seen the girl?'

'We have seen no one here but you,' I told him. 'Was she with you?'

When he made no reply to this, I said, 'Llenlleawg, was she with you? Did she have a hand in this?'

Llenlleawg attempted to sit up again; his face contorted against the pain. 'Wait a moment,' I told him. 'Let me help you.' So saying, I retrieved a spear and put it in Llenlleawg's right hand. Then, squatting behind him, I took him under the left arm; the Irish champion gripped the spear shaft and pulled himself up as I lifted, and with much groaning and clenching of teeth we got him standing – shakily, and swaying like a wind-tossed sapling, but standing all the same. Then he was racked with coughing; I steadied him as he cleared his lungs of yet more black muck.

'It is not as bad as I thought,' Llenlleawg gasped, squinting and pressing his left hand to his side as he leaned on the spear. 'At least,' he wheezed, '…there is no blood.'

The young woman, Llenlleawg – was she here?' I asked again.

'I cannot remember.'

'But you were following her,' I insisted. 'You must have followed her into Llyonesse. She must have led you here.'

Llenlleawg regarded me dully, then turned his face away. 'As I said, I do not remember.'

'What do you remember?'

'Nothing much,' he said, shaking his head slowly. 'I remember following the trail and crossing into Llyonesse. There was a beacon, and I went to see what it meant, and' – he paused abruptly – '…and I cannot remember anything after that.'

Obviously, there was more he would not say, but I did not know how to make him tell me. 'Well,' I conceded, 'you are safe now, and we are returning to Ynys Avallach. No doubt you will remember more later.' He nodded grimly, and I shouted for Peredur to bring one of the horses. 'Come,' I said, taking Llenlleawg by the arm, 'lean on me; I will bear you up.'

Together, Peredur and I lifted the tall Irishman between us, boosted him to the saddle, and put the reins into his hands. 'Let us be gone from here,' I said, leading the horse forward.

We quit the ruined fortress, passing once more beneath the crumbling tower and out through the gate. We crossed the ditches and headed north, hastening back along the trail that had brought us, travelling quickly and quietly – at least as quietly as four men might, and as quickly as possible when two of the four must go afoot. Peredur and I walked beside our two ailing companions to help steady them in the saddle and keep them from falling. We allowed ourselves but little rest, so, despite the footling pace, we made good distance on the day.

Indeed, by the time the gloomy twilight gathered round us, we were well on our way home. We camped in the dry streambed of a little cramped glen, and ate from our dwindling store of provisions, took turns at the watch through the night, and pushed on at first light next morning. No further disasters befell us, nor did anything out of the ordinary give cause for alarm. However, when we came in sight of the estuary where I had lost my horse to the quicksand some days before, a sense of dire foreboding came upon me.

There was, of course, no visible reminder of that terrible event, but the place seemed steeped in dolour and gloom. I could almost feel its spirit, restless with anguish, sad and hungry and forlorn. I felt cold and unhappy, and thoughts of death and desolation swarmed in my head.

There was nothing for it but to continue on, and to put as much distance as we could between us and the sinister place before turning aside to make camp for the night. The rest of the journey to Ynys Avallach proved uneventful, and Tallaght so improved that, though we travelled no more swiftly, at least we were able to share the horse between us. Thus, on the evening of the sixth day, we came in sight of the Fisher King's stronghold – glinting like white gold in the dusky light, its fine walls and towers reflected in the reed-fringed pool below. Weary, and more than a little footsore – I suppose I have spent too much time in the saddle these past years – we paused to gaze upon that tranquil sight and let it fill our souls with the pleasure of its serenity.

Then, our hearts lifted, and the vision of our destination lending speed to weary feet, we hastened on, arriving just as the abbey bell tolled for evening prayers. I know the good monks have a word for this, as they have a word for everything else in their peculiar world, but I know not what it is; or if I have been told, I remain ignorant of it. No matter what its name, this prayer at the closing of the day has always seemed to me one of the finer things of their occupation. Perhaps one day, when sword and spear no longer rule my days, I may give myself to such pleasant contemplation as those good brothers now enjoy.

As the slow-tolling bell rang out over the Summer Realm, we passed the silent shrine and put our feet to the upward-winding path leading to the Tor, pausing at the top to look out upon the land below, softly fading into the pale blue shadows. Then, as we turned to enter the yard, I heard a cry of welcome. Rhys came running, bursting with questions I had no wish to answer more than once.

'Peace, brother,' I said, gripping his shoulder. 'All will be told – and there is much to tell – only let us get a drink down our throats first.'

'Leave the horses,' Rhys said. 'I will send someone to attend them.' Turning to the others, he called, 'Come inside. The Pendragon has been waiting for you, he has given -' It was then that he caught sight of Llenlleawg – head down, slumped in the saddle, almost fainting with exhaustion – and Peredur holding the reins and walking beside him. 'What is this?' Rhys exclaimed, dashing to his side. 'Is he wounded?'

'Help us get him down,' I said, and explained that we had found him beaten and left for dead. 'He will recover, never fear. However, a few days' food and rest would not be wasted on him, I think.'

We hauled the unresisting Irishman down from the saddle, whereupon he seemed to come to himself once more, insisting that he could walk and would not be lugged into the hall like a sack of grain. He grew so adamant that we let him have his way. Truly, I think he had been nursing his strength for this moment; he was that proud he did not wish to be seen in his weakness by his swordbrothers, nor could he bear causing his beloved queen even a moment's worry.

As it happened, he need not have concerned himself. The hall was empty: no Cymbrogi to be seen, and few of Avallach's folk, either. Rhys, to all appearances, was king of the rock, and held dominion over the few who came and went. He called a command to one of the young Fair Folk lads I saw hurrying away on some errand; the fellow spun on his heel and raced to obey.

Had I given the matter more than a fleeting thought, I would have expected our arrival to occasion greater interest than we had so far received. 'Where is everyone?' I asked as we stepped into the empty hall.

'The plague has worsened in the southlands,' Rhys replied. 'Charis and most of the monks have gone to Londinium to join Paulus in the fight. Lord Avallach is at his prayers. As for the others, they will return when it gets dark.'

'Well and good,' I told him. 'But where are they now?'

Rhys called for the welcome cup, and then turned to look at me. 'I thought you knew.'

'How should I know?' I countered sourly. 'And unless someone tells me, I fear I shall die in ignorance.'

'They are at the shrine,' Rhys replied, as if we should have known.

'We saw no one at the shrine,' I told him bluntly, 'or I would not have asked.'

'Not that shrine,' Rhys said, 'the new one – Arthur's shrine. The king is building a shrine to the cup.'

Llenlleawg, flanked by the two young warriors, drew up beside us. 'What cup would that be?'

'The Holy Cup.' Rhys paused and regarded us dubiously. 'Do none of you know any of this?'

I reminded him that we had journeyed all the way from Llyonesse – on foot most of the way – and were not of a mood to appreciate riddles.

'It is to be the Grail Shrine,' Rhys announced tersely. 'The Pendragon has decreed a shrine to be built to house the Holy Cup, which he has taken as the sign and emblem of his reign. Arthur believes a great blessing will flow from this Grail to the benefit of Britain, and of all the world.'

'Is this the same cup that healed Arthur?' asked Peredur.

'One and the same,' confirmed Rhys.

'I know the cup you mean,' I said, as the memory came winging back to me as from a great distance. 'You mean to say that you have seen it?'

'No one has seen it,' Rhys replied, 'save Avallach, Myrddin, and, now, Arthur. Avallach knows where it is – he keeps it hidden somewhere, I think. Now you know as much as anyone else about it.'

The boy appeared bearing the requested welcome bowl. Rhys took it, raised it, spoke a word of greeting, and delivered the bowl into my hands. I passed it at once to Llenlleawg, and waited for the others to finish before taking it up once more. The ale was cool, dark, and frothy, soothing my parched tongue and throat like milk mixed with honey. I drank a long draught and, with great reluctance, passed it along once more. The bowl made the round again, and Rhys said he would have food brought so that we might refresh ourselves while we waited for the others.

'Now I must send for Myrddin,' he told us, preparing to dash away once more. 'He has spent the last three days telling everyone to bring word the moment you returned.'