Legacy: Arthurian Saga (10 page)

"Is that where you think I
go?"

"It's what people say. I'm not asking
questions. I don't want to know. Come up, you!" This to the pony as
he moved over and started work, hissing, on the other flank.
"There's talk that the Saxons have landed again north of Rutupiae,
and they're asking too much this time even for Vortigern to
stomach. He'll have to fight, come spring."

"And my grandfather with
him?"

"That's what he's hoping, I'll be
bound. Well, you'd best run along if you want your supper. No
one'll notice you. There was all hell going on in the kitchens when
I tried to get a bite an hour back."

"Where's my grandfather?"

"How do I know?" He cocked his head at
me, over the pony's rump. "Now what's to do?"

"I want to go with them."

"Hah!" he said, and threw the chopped
feed down for the pony. It was not an encouraging sound.

I said stubbornly: "I've a fancy to
see Segontium."

"Who hasn't? I've a fancy to see it
myself. But if you're thinking of asking the King..." He let it
hang. "Not but what it's time you got out of the place and saw a
thing or two, shake you a bit out of yourself, it's what you need,
but I can't say I see it happening. You'll never go to the
King?"

"Why not? All he can do is
refuse."

"All he can do -- ? Jupiter's balls,
listen to the boy. Take my advice and get your supper and go to
bed. And don't try Camlach, neither. He's had a right stand-up
fight with that wife of his and he's like a stoat with the
toothache. -- You can't be serious?"

"The gods only go with you, Cerdic, if
you put yourself in their path."

"Well, all right, but some of them
have got mighty big hoofs to walk over you with. Do you want
Christian burial?"

"I don't really mind. I suppose I'll
work my way up to Christian baptism fairly soon, if the bishop has
his way, but till then I've not signed on officially for anyone."
He laughed. "I hope they'll give me the flames when my turn comes.
It's a cleaner way to go. Well, if you won't listen, you won't
listen, but don't face him on an empty belly, that's
all."

"I'll promise you that," I said, and
went to forage for supper. After I had eaten, and changed into a
decent tunic, I went to look for my grandfather. To my relief
Camlach was not with him. The King was in his bedchamber, sprawled
at ease in his big chair before a roaring log fire, with his two
hounds asleep at his feet. At first I thought the woman in the
high-backed chair on the other side of the hearth was Olwen, the
Queen, but then I saw it was my mother. She had been sewing, but
her hands had dropped idle in her lap, and the white stuff lay
still over the brown robe. She turned and smiled at me, but with a
look of surprise. One of the wolfhounds beat his tail on the floor,
and the other opened an eye and rolled it round and closed it
again. My grandfather glowered at me from under his brows, but said
kindly enough: "Well, boy, don't stand there. Come in, come in,
there's a cursed draught. Shut the door."

I obeyed, approaching the fire. "May I
see you, sir?"

"You're seeing me. What do you want?
Get a stool and sit down." There was one near my mother's chair. I
pulled it away, to show I was not sitting in her shadow, and sat
down between them. "Well? Haven't seen you for some time, have I?
Been at your books?"

"Yes, sir." On the principle that it
is better to attack than to defend, I went straight to the point.
"I...I had leave this afternoon, and I went out riding, so I
--"

"Where to?"

"Along the river path. Nowhere
special, only to improve my horsemanship, so --"

"It could do with it."

"Yes, sir. So I missed the messenger.
They tell me you ride out tomorrow, sir."

"What's that to you?"

"Only that I would like to come with
you."

"You would like? You would like?
What's this, all of a sudden?" A dozen answers all sounding equally
well jostled in my head for expression. I thought I saw my mother
watching me with pity, and I knew that my grandfather waited with
indifference and impatience only faintly tempered with amusement. I
told the simple truth. "Because I am more than twelve years old,
and have never been out of Maridunum. Because I know that if my
uncle has his way, I shall soon be shut up, in this valley or
elsewhere, to study as a clerk, and before that happens --" The
terrifying brows came down. "Are you trying to tell me you don't
want to study?"

"No. It's what I want more than
anything in the world. But study means more if one has seen just a
little of the world -- indeed, sir, it does. If you would allow me
to go with you --"

"I'm going to Segontium, did they tell
you that? It's not a feast-day hunting-party, it's a long ride and
a hard one, and no quarter given for poor riders." It was like
lifting a heavy weight, to keep my eyes level on that fierce blue
glare. "I've been practicing, sir, and I've a good pony
now."

"Ha, yes, Dinias' breakdown. Well,
that's about your measure. No, Merlin, I don't take
children."

"Then you're leaving Dinias behind?" I
heard my mother gasp, and my grandfather's head, already turned
away, jerked back to me. I saw his fists clench on the chair arm,
but he did not hit me.

"Dinias is a man."

"Then do Mael and Duach go with you,
sir?" They were his two pages, younger than myself, and went
everywhere with him. My mother began to speak, in a breathless
rush, but my grandfather moved a hand to stop her. There was an
arrested look in the fierce eyes under the scowling
brows.

"Mael and Duach are some use to me.
What use are you?" I looked at him calmly. "Till now, of very
little. But have they not told you that I speak Saxon as well as
Welsh, and can read Greek, and that my Latin is better than
yours?"

"Merlin -- " began my mother, but I
ignored her. "I would have added Breton and Cornish, but I doubt if
you will have much use for these at Segontium."

"And can you give me one good reason,"
said my grandfather dryly, "why I should speak to King Vortigern in
any other language but Welsh, seeing that he comes from Guent?" I
knew from his tone that I had won. Letting my gaze fall from his
was like retreating with relief from the battlefield. I drew a
breath, and said, very meekly: "No, sir." He gave his great bark of
laughter, and thrust out a foot to roll one of the dogs over.
"Well, perhaps there's a bit of the family in you after all, in
spite of your looks. At least you've got the guts to beard the old
dog in his den when it suits you. All right, you can come. Who
attends you?"

"Cerdic."

"The Saxon? Tell him to get your gear
ready. We leave at first light. Well, what are you waiting
for?"

"To say good night to my mother." I
rose from my stool and went to kiss her. I did not often do this,
and she looked surprised.

Behind me, my grandfather said
abruptly: "You're not going to war. You'll be back inside three
weeks. Get out."

"Yes, sir. Thank you. Good
night."

Outside the door I stood still for a
full half minute, leaning against the wall, while my blood-beat
steadied slowly, and the sickness cleared from my throat. The gods
only go with you if you put yourself in their path. And that takes
courage. I swallowed the sickness, wiped the sweat off my palms,
and ran to find Cerdic.

9

So it was that I first left Maridunum.
At that time it seemed like the greatest adventure in the world, to
ride out in the chill of dawn, when stars were still in the sky,
and make one of the jostling, companionable group of men who
followed Camlach and the King. To begin with, most of the men were
surly and half asleep, and we rode pretty well in silence, breath
smoking in the icy air, and the horses' hoofs striking sparks from
the slaty road. Even the jingle of harness sounded cold, and I was
so numb that I could hardly feel the reins, and could think of
nothing else but how to stay on the excited pony and not get myself
sent home in disgrace before we had gone a mile.

Our excursion to Segontium lasted
eighteen days. It was my first sight of King Vortigern, who had at
this time been High King of Britain for more than twenty years. Be
sure I had heard plenty about him, truth and tales alike. He was a
hard man, as one must be who had taken his throne by murder and
held it with blood; but he was a strong king in a time when there
was need for strength, and it was not altogether his fault that his
stratagem of calling in the Saxons as mercenaries to help him had
twisted in his hand like an edged sword slipping, and cut it to the
bone. He had paid, and paid again, and then had fought; and now he
spent a great part of every year fighting like a wolf to keep the
ranging hordes contained along the Saxon Shore. Men spoke of him --
with respect -- as a fierce and bloodthirsty tyrant, and of his
Saxon Queen, Rowena, with hatred as a witch; but though I had been
fed from childhood on the tales of the kitchen slaves, I was
looking forward to seeing them with more curiosity than
fear.

In any event, I need not have been
afraid; I saw the High King only from a distance. My grandfather's
leniency had extended only to letting me go in his train; once
there, I was of no more account -- in fact of much less -- than his
pages Mael and Duach. I was left to fend for myself among the
anonymous rabble of boys and servants, and, because my ways had
made me no friends among my contemporaries, was left to myself. I
was later to be thankful for the fact that, on the few occasions
when I was in the crowd surrounding the two Kings, Vortigern did
not lay eyes on me, and neither my grandfather nor Camlach
remembered my existence.

We lay a week at Segontium, which the
Welsh call Caeryn-ar-Von, because it lies just across the strait
from Mona, the druids' isle. The town is set, like Maridunum, on
the banks of an estuary, where the Saint River meets the sea. It
has a splendid harbor, and a fortress placed on the rising ground
above this, perhaps half a mile away. The fortress was built by the
Romans to protect the harbor and the town, but had lain derelict
for over a hundred years until Vortigern put part of it into
repair. A little lower down the hill stood another more recent
strong-point, built, I believe, by Macsen, grandfather of the
murdered Constantius, against the Irish raiders.

The country here was grander than in
South Wales, but to my eyes forbidding rather than beautiful.
Perhaps in summer the land may be green and gentle along the
estuary, but when I saw it first, that winter, the hills rose
behind the town like storm-clouds, their skirts grey with the bare
and whistling forests, and their crests slate blue and hooded with
snow. Behind and beyond them all towers the great cloudy top of
Moel-y-Wyddfa, which now the Saxons call Snow Hill, or Snowdon. It
is the highest mountain in all Britain, and is the home of
gods.

Vortigern lay, ghosts or no ghosts, in
Macsen's Tower. His army -- he never moved in those days with less
than a thousand fighting men -- was quartered in the fort. Of my
grandfather's party, the nobles were with the King in the tower,
while his train, of which I was one, was housed well enough, if a
trifle coldly, near the west gate of the fort. We were treated with
honor; not only was Vortigern a distant kinsman of my
grandfather's, but it seemed to be true that the High King was --
in Cerdic's phrase -- "drumming up support." He was a big dark man,
with a broad fleshy face and black hair as thick and bristled as a
boar's, growing grey. There were black hairs on the back of his
hands, and sprouting from his nostrils. The Queen was not with him;
Cerdic whispered to me that he had not dared bring her where Saxons
were so little welcome. When I retorted that he was only welcome
himself because he had forgotten his Saxon and turned into good
Welsh, he laughed and cuffed my ear. I suppose it was not my fault
that I was never very royal.

The pattern of our days was simple.
Most of the day was spent hunting, till at dusk we would return to
fires and drink and a full meal, and then the kings and their
advisers turned to talk, and their trains to dicing, wenching,
quarrelling, and whatever other sports they might
choose.

I had not been hunting before; as a
sport it was foreign to my nature, and here everyone rode out
hurly-burly in a crowd, which was something I disliked. It was also
dangerous; there was plenty of game in the foothills, and there
were some wild rides with necks for sale; but I saw no other chance
of seeing the country, and besides, I had to find out why Galapas
had insisted on my coming to Segontium. So I went out every day. I
had a few falls, but got nothing worse than bruises, and managed to
attract no attention, good or bad, from anyone who mattered. Nor
did I find what I was looking for; I saw nothing, and nothing
happened except that my horsemanship improved, and Aster's manners
along with it.

On the eighth day of our stay we set
off for home, and the High King himself, with an escort a hundred
strong, went with us to set us on our road.

The first part of the way lay along a
wooded gorge where a river ran fast and deep, and where the horses
had to go singly or two abreast between the cliffs and the water.
There was no danger for so large a party, so we went at ease, the
gorge ringing with the sound of hoofs and bridle-chains and men's
voices, and the occasional croak overhead as the ravens sailed off
the cliffs to watch us. These birds do not wait, as some say, for
the noise of battle; I have seen them follow armed bands of men for
miles, waiting for the clash and the kill.