Camulod Chronicles Book 8 - Clothar the Frank (52 page)

We sat silent, watching the man called Elmo approach, and eventually he came to a stop just in front of us, still ankle deep in water and clad from head to foot in a single robe of blackish brown wool that was completely drenched. There he stood, staring up at Ursus first, taking in every detail of my friend's appearance before turning his eyes on me and scanning me so carefully that I felt as though there could be no flaw, no blemish on or about my appearance that escaped his scrutiny. Only when he had finished cataloging me did he glance at Corbus, who told him immediately who we were, naming me first as Ban's youngest son. Corbus continued, "They know nothing of you or why you are here, Elmo. I was about to tell them the history of this place when you came, but decided to wait and let you tell them. Will you?"

Elmo's eyes narrowed as he looked at me. "I live hereabouts, and my family has been here more than six full generations. My brother Theo rides with Corbus. My grandsire's grandsire name was Elmo, too, and he lived here before your grandfather, Ban the Bald, was even born, before there was a king of Benwick, and when what is now called Benwick had no name at all. When my ancestor Elmo lived here, though, this place was like that other place at your back, green sward and scattered trees, and we grazed our kine on it— oxen, sheep and goats. It was sheltered, and close to where we lived, yet far enough removed to keep our beasts free from being plundered. It was boggy in places and it could be dangerous, but it was well watered with sweet, clear-running springs, half a score and more of them.

"But then one day, during my ancestor Elmo's sixteenth summer, something happened here—a great shifting, somewhere in the earth, beneath the ground. Elmo was here tending his kine when it occurred and he told people the earth shook and threw him on his back and he could not stand up again while it lasted. And after that the springs all dried up and ran no more. People were afraid, thinking some god had grown angered at them, and they offered sacrifices of all kinds to every god they knew and some even to gods they didn't know but thought might be there, watching.

"Even the Romans heard of it and sent some soldiers—engineers, they called themselves—to look at what had happened. But nothing came of it for nigh on another year. The springs were all dried up, but nothing else had changed, and the ground was still a bog in some places, although different places than before." He paused to scratch his nose, and I found myself wondering, although not yet impatiently, what the import of all this could be. Why were we sitting our mounts knee deep in water listening to a tale from a stranger, when we should be on our way to deliver our tidings to the Queen? Elmo heaved a deep sigh at that point, reclaiming my attention, and turned with lowered head to look at the surrounding water.

"In the spring of the following year, less than a year after the upheavals, my ancestor heard a great cracking noise in the middle of the night and awoke to the terrified screaming of all his cattle and a great hissing, splashing noise of roaring, rushing water. It was the dead of night and there was no moon, so it was black as charcoal here under the trees, and all he could tell was that in the midst of the unseen but frightening chaos around him he felt, and seemed to be, safe against the bole of the tree under which he had been sleeping. He crouched there all night long, waiting for the sun to rise, and when it did he could not believe the sight that awaited him." Elmo paused again and glanced up at us to see if he had all our attention, knowing full well that he had. We all sat rapt, even the three who had heard the story before.

"He found himself sitting on what would turn out to be a spine of stone running most of the way across the meadow. It had not looked anything like that the day before, but something had ruptured in the ground and released a terrifying scourge of solid water that had scoured away all the soil in its path and bared the rocky sides of the spine. There was another outcrop of rock behind the place where he now sat, and it was crowned with dirt and grass, but the face of it was the clean, bright gray of new-split rock and it was out of a fissure there, lower down than my ancestor's perch, that the water was spewing.

"His cattle had all vanished, scattered in terror of what was happening, and so my ancestor's main task that first morning was to escape from the spine of rock on which he had found himself. The great scoured channel swept down to his left and the ground there was collapsing and disappearing even as he watched it, undercut by the ferocious strength of the newborn stream that was causing great lumps and chunks of solid earth and clay to rip free from above and fall into the waters to be churned into mud and swept away.

"The ground on his right-hand side appeared to be sound and solid, however, so my ancestor set out in that direction to remove himself as far as he could from what was happening on his left. But at his first step he sank to his knees and fell forward into what was no more than a sea of thick mud covered with bright, clean growing grass and wild flowers. He almost drowned there, in that mud, but his gods were on his side that day, he swore, and he was able to scramble back to the rocky spine. Once there and safe again, he walked all the way to the farthest end of it, looking for a way to jump off it and on to solid ground, but he could find no place that tempted him to put any trust in what he could not feel solidly under his feet. The gully that yawned on his left was several long paces wide in places by that time, and growing wider and deeper with every moment that passed. At the endmost tip of the spine there was another gap, he said, less than two paces wide and out of the worst of the current on his left, but just far enough away to prevent him from jumping. So he turned around and went all the way back to his starting point, following the twists and turns of the spine as it wound aimlessly back and forth.

"Back at his starting point, he looked again at the rock across from him, from the base of which the water was still hissing and roaring with no lessening of its fury. That rock offered a solid landing place, for he could see the handspan's depth of soil and grass that lined its broken top. But its surface was above the level on which he stood, which meant he would have to jump up and across, and if he fell short, he would fall directly into the roaring deathtrap beneath him and be smashed to a bloody froth.

"He made the jump safely and for the next month and more he watched the gradual destruction of what had been a safe and pleasant grazing spot. And he discovered many things about what was happening. The ground on the right of the spine that had been bog and then became mud simply sank into the earth and disappeared, slowly and steadily, washed and sucked and sifted away by the waters until that side of the spine lay as bare and exposed as the left side.

"But then my ancestor began to grow aware that something other was occurring here. This place is bowl-shaped, it transpired, and he watched and paid close attention as the waters rose and rose until the bowl was full."

"So how long did that take?" It was the first time I had spoken since Elmo arrived, and he looked up at me.

"When my grandsire was the age his grandsire Elmo had been at the start of it all. Our family has paid great attention to the happenings in the place now for nigh on a hundred years, and few things happen here that we are unaware of.

"No one can tell why the waters ceased to rise. They simply stopped one day and rose no farther. A balance of some kind was reached . . . a leveling. The waters are still sweet and fresh, so the torrent is still flowing strongly enough to keep the currents stirring and to avert stagnation, and there is sufficient drainage, obviously, to maintain the level of the waters without loss."

"So how are we to cross it? I presume we are to cross it? I see no boats, but you must have some close by."

"None large enough for horses." The man smiled at me and his entire face was transformed. "We will walk." His smile widened at the look on my face. "The spine, Lord Clothar. The spine I've been talking about is still there, below the surface. We will follow it. That is why I am here—to guide you. You will have to dismount, though, and lead your horses, for the way is narrow in some places. Follow the man ahead of you precisely and feel your way with caution, making sure each foot is firmly set before placing your weight on it. The water on either side of the spine is deep, but we'll be close enough together that, if one of you does fall in, we'll be able to pull you out again. But I am sure I do not have to explain the folly of trying at any time to make your way across the spine without my guidance." He avoided looking at any of us as he said that, but there was no mistaking the tenor of the warning. "Now, Lord Clothar, if you will follow me with your friend Ursus behind you, the others have crossed before and know the procedure."

Having said that, he turned away and waited to hear me splashing into the water at his back before he moved off into the waters ahead of us. I glanced once at Ursus, and followed my guide, preparing to concentrate completely on where he was leading me and to trust utterly in his own knowledge of the pathway across the open waters.

As I walked close behind my guide, fighting the urge to throw my arms around him and hang on from time to time, I found myself thinking about where we were and what was happening, and my thoughts were whirling as J made my cautious way across the mere. There was water all around us, but we were already more than halfway across and I could see where the trees turned green again up ahead of us, marking the start of dry land again. I stopped and turned to look back the way we had come, and in front of me Elmo stopped moving immediately.

"What is it?" he asked me.

"Nothing, I'm merely looking back. There's absolutely no sign of the route we've followed to get here, and no indication of how we'll progress from here to reach the end of the crossing."

I turned back to find him looking at me and smiling slightly. "Does that surprise you, Lord Clothar? Or do the people in the north leave marks in the water when they pass through it?"

I took the jibe in the spirit in which I thought it was intended and smiled, letting the thought of being insulted glide away from me. "No. Forgive me, Elmo, I was but thinking aloud, about our circumstances. My— the Queen of Benwick lies ahead of us, under your care, and this may be the only spot within her own lands where she is safe. She would not be safe in her own house today, not with her dead husband's firstborn son behaving like a mad dog as he is. But here she is beyond reach of all who might seek to harm her. And you alone hold the key to her safety, because of your knowledge of this pathway through the waters."

"Well, not alone. My brother Theo knows the way across as well as I do. But then Theo is seldom here, whereas I live close by." He looked over my shoulder to the men at my back. "We should keep moving. Our friends back there are at our mercy when we stop thus, for they cannot simply go around us and continue on their own." He began walking again, speaking back over his shoulder. "You were talking about the Queen's safety but you sounded as though you harbour some doubt. In what regard?"

"Accessibility. It's obvious no one can come in here without knowing the way, but is that surmountable? Is there any other way a determined man—or army, for that matter—might penetrate the refuge where you have the Queen?"

Elmo shook his head. "Not without growing wings like a bird, to let him fly . . ." He paused for a few moments and thought about what he had just said, then held up a hand and wiggled it back and forth. "Well, that may not be completely true. If a man is determined enough, he can usually find a way to get what he wants. It is conceivable, I suppose, that die-hard assault could reach us in the valley by coming over the top of the hills, but I really believe it would hardly be possible. These hills are high and rugged, and when God made them, He built them upright out of huge, flat, sometimes knife-edge-thin slabs of stone, then tilted them all sideways and fixed them in place just before they fell over of their own weight. Our little valley lies at the center of that piece of His creation, and the hills all around it slant steeply away from it in all directions, so that anyone approaching from the outside has to struggle constantly to climb unscalable, sharp- edged cliffs that are all tilted towards him and overhang each other in endless ridges, each with its own dangers and threats. I have been there in those hills, Lord Clothar, and it is not a pleasant place to be. I went there of my own free will, as an act of penance, and it is no exaggeration to say that I was truly penitent when I emerged, and that there were times when I genuinely thought I would never emerge at all, but would die in there, in some hidden spot unknown to man."

I was staring at the back of his head, marveling at his fluent ease with words, but his reference to penance took me by surprise.

"Why would you do an act of penance?"

He did not even bother to turn around. "Because I am a sinner. Sinners are required to do penance."

"You sound like a bishop."

"Aye, well I'm not, but I am a priest, and my bishop's name is Erigon. He is my teacher."

"Erigon? My teacher's name is Germanus. He is a bishop, too."

That stopped him dead in his tracks, and he turned slowly to face me, his eyes wide. "Germanus? Of Auxerre?"

"Aye, that's him."

His eyes grew even wider. "You know the blessed Germanus?"

"I know Bishop Germanus of Auxerre." I was careful to keep my voice neutral. I had heard others speak of Germanus as "the Blessed" but I had never known any of the school's staff or residents to speak of him that way, and I had certainly never seen or heard the bishop himself make any reference to such a thing, so the sentiment, as much as the tone of voice in which it was uttered, made me feel slightly ill at ease. "He is my mentor. I meet with him regularly, at least once every week or two. He knew my parents when he was young, before he became a bishop, and he is still a close friend of King Ban and Queen Vivienne. I have attended his school in Auxerre for almost six years now."

"Have you, now? You are a very fortunate young man." Elmo shook his head in apparent wonder and turned again to resume walking. By the time we reached the other shore he had told me everything he knew and admired about Germanus, and listening to him this time I did not feel the slightest discomfort.