Legacy: Arthurian Saga (127 page)

The King himself gave little sign of
it. He kicked free of his boots at last and shrugged the heavy
cloak off his shoulders. His eyes came to me in an exact parody of
Ygraine's sidelong look.

"Have you spoken with her?"

"Yes. I've just left her. She was
about to give me supper, but now I think she plans to feed you
instead. She only got here today, and you'll find her tired, but
she has had some rest, and she'll rest again all the better for
having seen you. We hardly expected you before morning."

"Caesar-speed." He grinned, quoting
one of my father's phrases; no doubt I, as his teacher, had
over-used it rather. "Only myself and a handful, of course. We
pushed ahead. The rest of them will come up later. I trust they
will be here in time for the burial."

"Who is coming?"

"Maelgon of Gwynedd, and his son
Maelgon. Urbgen's brother from Rheged -- old Coel's third son, his
name's Morien, isn't it? Caw couldn't come either, so he's sent
Riderch -- not Heuil, I'm glad to say, I never could stand that
foul-mouthed braggart. Then, let me see, Ynyr and Gwilim,
Bors...and I am told that Ceretic of Elmet is on his way from
Loidis."

He went on to name a few others. It
seemed that most of the northern kings had sent sons or
substitutes; naturally with the remnant of the Saxon armies still
haunting the north they would want to stay watching their own
borders. So much, indeed, Arthur was saying through the splashing
of the water his servant poured for him to wash himself in.
"Bedwyr's father went home, too. He pleaded some urgency, but
between ourselves I think he wanted to keep an eye for me on Lot's
movements."

"And Lot?"

"Headed for York. I took the
precaution of having him watched. Sure enough, he's on his way. Is
Morgan there still, or did she come south to meet the
Queen?"

"She's still at York. There is one
king you haven't mentioned yet."

The servant gave him a towel, and
Arthur disappeared into it, scrubbing his wet hair dry. His voice
came muffled. "Who?"

"Colgrim," I said mildly.

He emerged abruptly from the towel,
skin glowing and eyes bright. He looked, I thought, about ten years
old. "Need you ask?" The voice was not ten years old; it was a
man's, full of mock arrogance, which under the mischief was real.
Well, you gods, I thought, you put him there; you cannot count this
as hubris. But I caught myself making the sign.

"No, but I am asking."

He was serious at once.

"It was tougher work than we'd
expected. You might say that the second half of the battle was
still to fight. We broke their strength at Luguvallium, and Badulf
has died of wounds, but Colgrim was unhurt, and rallied what was
left of his forces some way to the east. It wasn't just a case of
hunting down fugitives; they had a formidable force there, and a
desperate one. If we had gone in any less strength, they might even
have turned the tables on us. I doubt if they would have attacked
again -- they were making for the east coast, and home, but we
caught them halfway there, and they made a stand on the Glein
River. Do you know that part of the country?"

"Not well."

"It's wild and hilly, deep in forest,
with river glens winding south out of the uplands. Bad fighting
country, but that was against them as well as us. Colgrim himself
got away again, but there's no chance now that he can pause and
remuster any sort of force in the north. He rode east; that's one
of the reasons that Ban stayed behind, though he was good enough to
let Bedwyr come south with me again." He stood still, obedient now
to his servant's hands as he was dressed, a fresh cloak flung over
his shoulder and the pin made fast. "I'm glad," he finished,
briefly.

"That Bedwyr's here? So I
--"

"No. That Colgrim escaped
again."

"Yes?"

"He's a brave man."

"Nevertheless, you will have to kill
him."

"I know that. Now..." The servant
stepped back, and the King stood ready. They had dressed him in
dark grey, his cloak collared and lined with rich fur. Ulfin came
from the bedchamber, holding a carved casket lined with embroidery,
where Uther's royal circlet lay. The rubies caught the light,
answering the flash from the jewels at Arthur's shoulder and
breast. But when Ulfin proffered the box he shook his head. "Not
now, I think."

Ulfin shut the box and went from the
room, taking the other man with him. The door latched behind them.
Arthur looked at me, in another echo of Ygraine's own hesitation.
"Am I to understand that she expects me now?"

"Yes."

He fidgeted with the brooch at his
shoulder, pricked his finger, and swore. Then, with a half-smile at
me: "There's not much precedent for this sort of thing, is there?
How does one meet the mother who gave one away at
birth?"

"How did you greet your
father?"

"That's different, you know it
is."

"Yes. Do you want me to present
you?"

"I was going to ask you to...Well,
we'd better get on with it. Some situations don't improve with
keeping...Look, you are sure about supper? I've eaten nothing since
dawn."

"Certain. They were running for fresh
meats when I left." He took a breath, like a swimmer before a deep
dive. "Then shall we go?"

She was waiting beside her chair,
standing in the light of the fire. Color had run up into her
cheeks, and the glow of the fire pulsed over her skin and made the
white wimple rosy. She looked beautiful, with the shadows purged
away, and youth lent back by the firelight and the brilliance of
her eyes.

Arthur paused on the threshold. I saw
the blue flash of Ygraine's sapphire cross as her breast rose and
fell. Her lips parted, as if to speak, but she was silent. Arthur
paced forward slowly, so dignified and stiff that he looked even
younger than his years. I went with him, rehearsing in my mind the
right words to say, but in the end there was no need to say
anything. Ygraine the Queen, who had weathered worse moments in her
time, took the occasion into her hands. She watched him for a
moment, staring at him as if she would look right through his soul,
then she curtsied to the ground and said: "My lord."

He put a hand out quickly, then both
hands, and raised her. He gave her the kiss of greeting, brief and
formal, and held her hands for a little longer before he dropped
them. He said: "Mother?" trying it out. It was what he had always
called Drusilla, Count Ector's wife. Then, with relief: "Madam? I
am sorry I could not be here in Amesbury to greet you, but there
was still danger in the north. Merlin will have told you? But I
came as quickly as I could."

"You made better speed than we could
have hoped for. I trust you prospered? And that the danger from
Colgrim's force is over?"

"For the moment. We have time, at
least, to breathe...and to do what is to be done here in Amesbury.
I am sorry for your grief and loss, madam. I -- " He hesitated,
then spoke with a simplicity that, I could see, comforted her and
steadied him. "I can't pretend to you that I grieve as perhaps I
should. I hardly knew him as a father, but all my life I have known
him as a king, and a strong one. His people will mourn him, and I,
too, mourn him as one of them."

"You have it in your hands to guard
them as he tried to guard them." A pause, while they measured one
another again. She was a fraction the taller of the two. Perhaps
the same thought touched her; she motioned him toward the chair
where I had been sitting, and herself sank back against the
embroidered cushions. A page came running with wine, and there was
a general breathing and rustle of movement. The Queen began to
speak of tomorrow's ceremony; answering her, he relaxed, and soon
they were talking more freely. But still behind the courtly
exchanges could be felt all the turmoil of what lay between them
unspoken, the air so charged, their minds so locked on one another,
that they had forgotten my presence as completely as if I had been
one of the servants waiting by the laden table. I glanced that way,
then at the women and girls beside the Queen; all eyes were on
Arthur, devouring him, the men with curiosity and some awe (the
stories had reached them soon enough), the women with something
added to the curiosity, and the two girls in a dazzled trance of
excitement.

The chamberlain was hovering in a
doorway. He caught my eye and looked a question. I nodded. He
crossed to the Queen's side and murmured something. She assented
with a kind of relief, and rose to her feet, the King with her. I
noticed that the table was now laid for three, but when the
chamberlain came to my elbow I shook my head. After supper their
talk would be easier, and they could dismiss the
servants.

They would be better alone. So I took
my leave, ignoring Arthur's glance almost of entreaty, and made my
way back to the tavern to see if my fellow-guests there had left
any of the supper for me.

Next day was bright and sunlit, with
the clouds packed away low on the horizon, and a lark singing
somewhere as if it were spring. Often a bright day at the end of
September brings frost with it, and a searching wind -- and nowhere
can the winds search more keenly than on the stretches of the Great
Plain. But the day of Uther's burial was a day borrowed from
spring; a warm wind and a bright sky, and the sun golden on the
Dance of the Hanging Stones.

The ceremonial by the grave was long,
and the colossal shadows of the Dance moved round with the sun
until the light blazed down full in the center, and it was easier
to look at the ground, at the grave itself, at the shadows of
clouds massing and moving like armies across the distances, than at
the Dance's center where the priests stood in their robes, and the
nobles in mourning white, with jewels flashing against the eyes. A
pavilion had been erected for the Queen. She stood in its shade,
composed and pale among her ladies, showing no sign of fatigue or
illness. Arthur, with me beside him, stood at the foot of the
grave.

At last it was done. The priests moved
off, and after them the King and the royal party. As we crossed the
grass toward the horses and litters, already behind us could be
heard the soft thudding of earth on wood. Then from above came
another sound to mask it. I looked up. High in the September sky
could be seen a stream of birds, swift and black and small,
gossiping and calling as they went southward. The last flock of
swallows, taking the summer with them.

"Let us hope," said Arthur softly, at
my elbow, "that the Saxons are taking the hint. I could do with the
winter's length, both for the men and for myself, before the
fighting starts again. Besides, there's Caerleon. I wish I could go
today."

But of course he had to stay, as had
we all, as long as the Queen remained in Amesbury. She went
straight back to the monastery after the ceremony, and did not
appear publicly again, but spent her time resting, or with her son.
He was with her as much as his affairs allowed, while her people
prepared to make the journey to York as soon as she should feel
able to travel.

Arthur hid his impatience, and busied
himself with the troops at exercise, or in long hours of talk with
his friends and captains. Each day I could see him more and more
absorbed in what he was doing, and what he faced. I myself saw
little of him or of Ygraine; much of my time was spent out at the
Giants' Dance, directing the sinking of the king-stone once more
into its bed above the royal grave.

At last, eight days after Uther's
burial, the Queen's party set off for the north. Arthur watched
them decently out of sight along the road to Cunetio, then gave a
great breath of relief, and pulled the fighting men out of Amesbury
as neatly and quickly as pulling a stopper from a flask. It was the
fifth day of October, and it was raining, and we were bound, as I
knew to my cost, for the Severn estuary, and the ferry across to
Caerleon, City of Legions.

4

Where the ferry crosses, the Severn
estuary is wide, with big tides that come up fast over thick red
mud. Boys watch the cattle night and day, for a whole herd can sink
in the tidal mud and be lost. And when the spring and autumn tides
meet the river's flow a wave builds up like the wave I once saw in
Pergamum after the earthquake. On the south side the estuary is
bounded by cliffs; the north shore is marshy, but a bowshot from
the tide-mark there is well-drained gravel, lifting gently to open
woodland of oak and sweet chestnut.

We pitched camp on the rising ground
in the lee of the woods. While this was being done, Arthur, with
Ynyr and Gwilim, the kings of Guent and Dyfed, went on a tour of
exploration, then after supper he sat in his tent to receive the
headmen from the settlements nearby. Numbers of the local folk
crowded to see the new young King, even the fisher folk who have no
homes but the cliff caves and their frail-skinned coracles. He
spoke with them all, accepting homage and complaint alike. After an
hour or two of it, I asked leave with a look, got it, and went out
into the air. It was a long time since I had smelled the hills of
my own country, and besides, there was a place nearby that I had
long wanted to visit.