Legacy: Arthurian Saga (110 page)

"No, wait, Emrys --"

But he had already gone. He brought
the sword, running, and held it out to me.

"Here. It's yours." He sounded
breathless. "I ought to have guessed who you were...Not away in
Brittany with the prince, as some people have it, but here, in your
own country, waiting till the time came to help the High King. You
are the seed of Ambrosius. Only you could have found it, and I
found it only because you sent me there. It is for you. Take
it."

"No. Not for me. Not for a bastard
seed."

"Does that make a difference? Does
it?"

"Yes," I said gently.

He was silent. The sword sank to his
side and was quenched in his shadow. I mistook his silence, and I
remember that at the time I was relieved merely that he said no
more. I got to my feet. "Bring it now into the chapel. We'll leave
it there, where it belongs, on the god's altar. Whichever god is
sovereign in this place will watch it for us. It must wait here
till the time comes for it to be claimed in the sight of men, by
the legitimate heir to the kingdom."

"So. That's why you sent me for it? To
bring it for him?"

"Yes. In due time it will be
his."

A little to my surprise he smiled,
apparently satisfied. He nodded calmly. We took the sword together
into the chapel. He laid it on the altar, above its carved replica.
They were the same. His hand left the hilt, lingeringly, and he
stepped back to my side.

"And now," I said, "I have something
to tell you. The Duke of Cornwall brought news --"

I got no further. The sound of hoofs,
approaching rapidly through the forest, brought Cabal up,
roach-backed and growling. Arthur whipped round. His voice was
sharp.

"Listen! Is that Cornwall's troop back
again? Something must be wrong...Are you sure they mean you
well?"

I put a hand to his arm and he
stopped, then, at the look on my face, asked: "What is it, then?
Were you expecting this?"

"No. Yes. I hardly know. Wait, Emrys.
Yes, this had to come. I thought it must. The day is not over
yet."

"What do you mean?"

I shook my head. "Come with me and
meet them."

It was not Cornwall's troops that came
clattering into the clearing. The Dragon glittered, red on gold.
King's men. The officer halted his troop and rode forward. I saw
his eye take in the wild clearing, the overgrown shrine, my own
plain robes; it touched the boy at my side, no more than a touch,
then came back to my face, and he saluted, bowing low.

The greeting was formal, in the King's
name. It was followed by the news I had already had from Cador;
that the King was marching north with his army, and would lie at
Luguvallium, there to face the threat from Colgrim's forces. The
man went on to tell me, looking troubled, that of late the King's
sickness seemed to have taken hold of him again, and there were
days when he had not the strength to ride, but proposed, if need
be, to take the field in a litter. "And this is the message I was
charged to give you, my lord. The High King, remembering the
strength and help you gave to the army of his brother Aurelius
Ambrosius, asks that you will come now out of your fastness, and go
to him where he waits to meet his enemies." The message came,
obviously, by rote. He finished: "My lord, I am to tell you that
this is the summons you have been waiting for."

I bent my head. "I was expecting it. I
had already sent to tell the King I was coming, and Emrys of Galava
with me. You are to escort us? Then no doubt you will have the
goodness to wait a while until we are ready. Emrys" -- I turned to
Arthur, standing in a white trance of excitement at my side --
"come with me."

He followed me back into the chapel.
As soon as we were out of sight of the troop he caught at my arm.
"You're taking me? You're really taking me? And if it comes to a
battle --"

"Then you shall fight in
it."

"But my father, Count Ector...He may
forbid it."

"You will not fight beside Count
Ector. These are King's troops and you go with me. You will fight
with the King."

He said joyously: "I knew this was a
day of marvels! I thought at first that the white stag had led me
to the sword, that it was for me. But now I see that it was just a
sign that today I should ride to my first battle...What are you
doing?"

"Watch now," I said. "I told you I
would leave the sword in the god's protection. It has lain long
enough in the darkness. Let us leave it now in the
light."

I stretched out my hands. From the air
the pale fire came, running down the blade, so that runes --
quivering and illegible -- shimmered there. Then the fire spread,
engulfing it, till, like a brand too brightly flaring, the flames
died, and when they had gone, there stood the altar, pale stone,
with nothing against it but the stone sword. Arthur had not seen me
use this kind of power before, and he watched open-mouthed as the
flames broke out of the air and caught at the stone. He drew back,
awed and a little frightened, and the only color in his face was
the wanlight cast by the flames.

When it was done he stood very still,
licking dry lips. I smiled at him.

"Come, be comfortable. You have seen
me use magic before."

"Yes. But seeing this -- this kind of
thing...All this time, when Bedwyr and I were with you, you never
let us know what sort of man you were...This power; I had no idea.
You told us nothing of it."

"There was nothing to tell. There was
no need for me to use it, and it wasn't something you could learn
from me. You will have different skills, you and Bedwyr. You won't
need this one. Besides, if you do, I shall be there to give it to
you."

"Will you? Always? I wish I could
believe that."

"It is true."

"How can you know?"

"I know," I said.

He stared at me for a moment longer,
and in his face I could see a whole world of uncertainty and
bewilderment and desire. It was a boy's look, immature and lost,
and it was gone in a moment, replaced by his normal armor of bright
courage. He smiled then, and the sparkle was back. "You may regret
that, you know! Bedwyr's the only person who can stand me for
long."

I laughed. "I'll do my best. Now, if
you will, tell them to bring our horses out."

When I was ready I went out to join
the waiting men. Arthur was not mounted and fretting to be off, as
I had expected; he was holding my horse for me, like a groom. I saw
his eyes widen a little when he saw me; I had put on my best
clothes, and my black mantle was lined with scarlet and pinned on
the shoulder by the Dragon brooch of the royal house. He saw that I
was amused and had guessed his thought, and smiled a little in
return as he swung himself up on his white stallion. I took care
that he should not see what I was thinking then; that the youth
with the plain mantle and the bright, proud look did not need a
brooch to declare himself Pendragon, and royal. But he drew the
stallion soberly in behind my mild roan mare, and the men were
watching me.

So we left the chapel of the Wild
Forest in the care of whichever god owned it, and rode down towards
Galava.

BOOK IV THE KING
1

The danger from the Saxons had been
more immediate even than Cador had supposed. Colgrim had moved
fast. By the time Arthur and I with our escort approached
Luguvallium we found, just south-east of the town, the King's
forces and Cador's moving into position with the men of Rheged, to
face an enemy already massing in great numbers for the
attack.

The British leaders were closeted with
the King in his tent. This had been pitched on the summit of a
small hill which lay behind the field of battle. There had in times
past been some kind of a fortress there, and a few ruined walls
still stood, with the remains of a tower, and lower down on the
slopes were the tumbled stones and weedy garths of an abandoned
village. The place was a riot of blackberry and nettle, with huge
old apple trees still standing among the fallen stones, golden with
ripening fruit. Here, below the hill, the baggage trains were
rumbling into place; the trees and the half-ruined walls would
provide shelter for the emergency dressing station. Soon the
apparent chaos would resolve itself; the King's armies still fought
with a pattern of the Roman discipline enforced by Ambrosius.
Looking at the huge spreading host of the enemy, the field of
spears and axes and the horsehair tossing in the breeze like the
foam of an advancing sea, I thought that we would need every last
scruple of strength and courage that we could muster. And I
wondered about the King.

Uther's tent had been pitched on a
little level lawn, before the ruined tower. As our troop rode
towards it through the noise and bustle of the battalions
assembling into fighting order, I saw men turn to stare, and even
above the shouts of command and the clash of arms could hear the
word go round. "It's Merlin. Merlin. Merlin the prophet is here.
Merlin is with us." Men turned, stared, shouted, and elation seemed
to spread like a buzz through the field. A fellow with the device
of Dyfed shouted as I passed, in my own tongue: "Are you with us
then, Myrddin Emrys, braud, and have you seen the shooting star for
us today?"

I called back, clearly, so that it
could be heard: "Today it is a rising star. Watch for it, and the
victory."

As I dismounted with Arthur and Ralf
at the foot of the hill, and walked up to Uther's tent, I heard the
word spread through the field with a rush like the wind racing over
ripe corn.

It was a bright September day, full of
sunlight. Outside the King's tent the Dragon blew, scarlet on
yellow. I went straight in, with Arthur on my heels. The boy had
armed himself at Galava, and looked at every point a young warrior.
I had expected him to appear with Ector's blazon, but he carried no
device, and his cloak and tunic were of plain white wool. "It's my
color," he had said, when he saw me looking. "The white horse, the
white hound, and I shall carry a white shield. Since I have no
name, I shall write on it myself. My device will be my own, when I
get it." I had said nothing, but I thought now, as the boy trod
forward beside me across the King's tent, that if he had
deliberately courted all men's eyes on the field of battle, he
could not have done better. The unmarked white, and his air of
eager and shining youth, stood out among the tossing brilliance of
color on that bright morning, as surely as if the trumpets had
already proclaimed him prince. And as Uther greeted us, I could see
the same thought in the eager and hungry gaze he fixed on the boy's
face.

Myself, I was shocked at Uther's
appearance. It bore out the reports I had had of him, of a man
visibly failing, "as if a canker gnawed at his guts, not with pain
but with daily wasting." He was thin and his color was bad, and I
noticed that from time to time his hand went to his chest, as if he
found it hard to draw breath. He was splendidly dressed, with gold
and jewels glinting on his armor; the stuff of his great cloak was
gold, too, with scarlet dragons entwined. He held himself upright,
kingly in the great chair. There was grey now in the reddish hair
and beard, but his eyes were vivid and alive as ever, burning in
their deep sockets. The thinness of his face made it look more
hawklike, and if possible more kingly than before. The flashing
gold and jewels and the great cloak hid the thinness of his body.
Only the wrists and bony hands showed where the long wasting
sickness had gnawed the flesh away.

Arthur waited behind me with Ralf as I
went forward. Count Ector was there, near the King, along with Coel
of Rheged, and Cador, and a dozen other of Uther's leaders whom I
knew. I saw Ector eyeing Arthur with a kind of wonder. I did not
see Lot anywhere.

Uther greeted me with a courtesy only
thinly overlaying the eagerness below. It is possible that he had
intended there and then to present his son to the commanders, but
there was no time. Trumpets were sounding outside. Uther hesitated,
looking indecisive, then he made a sign to Ector who stepped
forward and formally presented Arthur to the King as his fosterson
Emrys of Galava. Arthur, with this new quiet and self-contained
maturity, knelt to kiss the King's hand. I saw Uther's hand close
on his, and I thought he would speak then, but at that moment the
trumpets shrilled again, nearer, and the door of the tent was
pulled open. Arthur stood back. Uther -- the effort was apparent --
tore his eyes from the boy's face and gave the word. The commanders
saluted hurriedly and dispersed to mount and gallop away to their
stations. The ground shook to the trampling of horses, and the air
to the shouting and the clash of metal. Four men ran in with poles,
and I saw then that Uther's chair was a kind of litter, a big
carrying chair, in which he could be borne onto the battlefield.
Someone ran to him with his sword and put it into his hand,
whispering as he did so, and the four fellows bent to the poles,
waiting for the King's word.

I stood back. If any memory came to me
of the young, tough commander who had fought so ably at his
brother's side through all the early years of war, it touched me
now with no feeling of pity or regret, as the King turned his head
and smiled, the same fierce, eager smile that I knew. The years had
dropped away from him. If it had not been for the litter, I could
have sworn that he was a whole man. There was even color in his
cheeks, and his whole person glittered.