Legacy: Arthurian Saga (136 page)

"I shall tell you, of course. The King
asked me to find out all I could about this place, and also about
the ruined fortress in the pass, the one they call Lake Fort.
"

He nodded. "I know it. It's been a
wreck for nearly two hundred years. It was destroyed in the
Brigantian rebellion, and left to rot. This place suffered the same
fate, but Ambrosius had it rebuilt. He had plans for Lake Fort,
too, so I have been told. If I had had a mandate, I might have -- "
He checked himself. "Ah, well...You came from Bremet? Then you'll
know that a couple of miles north of that road there is another
fort -- nothing there, only the site -- but I would have thought it
equally vital to any strategy involving the Gap. Ambrosius saw it
so, they tell me. He saw that the Gap could be a key point of his
strategy." There was no perceptible emphasis on the "he," but the
inference was clear. Uther had not only forgotten the existence of
Olicana and its garrison, he had either ignored or misunderstood
the importance of the road through the Pennine Gap. As this young
man, in his helpless isolation, had not.

I said quickly: "And now the new King
sees it, too. He wants to refortify the Gap, not only with a view
to closing and holding it against penetration from the east, if
that becomes necessary, but also to using the pass as a quick line
of attack. He has charged me to see what there is to be done. I
think you can expect the surveyors up after my reports have been
studied. This place is in a state of readiness that I know the King
did not expect. He will be pleased."

I told him something then about
Arthur's plans for the formation of the cavalry force. He listened
eagerly, his weary boredom forgotten, and the questions he put
showed that he knew a great deal about affairs on the eastern
seaboard. He assumed, besides, a surprisingly intimate knowledge of
Saxon movements and strategy.

I left that aside for the moment, and
began to put my own questions about Olicana's accommodation and
supplies. After little more than a minute of it he got to his feet,
and, crossing to a chest locked with another of the great padlocks,
opened it, and brought out tablets and rolls on which, it
transpired, were lists, fully detailed, of all I wanted to
know.

I studied these for a few minutes,
then became conscious that he was waiting, watching me, with other
lists in his hand.

"I think," he began, then hesitated.
In a moment he made up his mind to continue. "I don't think that
King Uther, in the last years, ever quite appreciated what the road
through the Gap might mean in the coming struggle. When I was sent
here -- when I was young -- I saw it as an outpost only, a place,
you might say, to practice on. It was better than Lake Fort then
but only just...It took quite a time to get it into working
shape...Well, you know what happened, sir. The war moved north and
south; King Uther was sick, and the country divided; we seemed to
be forgotten. I sent couriers from time to time, with information,
but got no acknowledgement. So for my own instruction and, I admit,
entertainment, I began to send out men -- not soldiers, but boys
from the town mostly, with a taste for adventure -- and gathered
information. I am at fault, I know, but..." He stopped.

"You kept it to yourself?" I prompted
him.

"With no wrong motive," he said
hastily. "I did send one courier, with some information I judged to
be of value, but heard no more of him or of the papers he carried.
So I no longer wanted to commit anything to messengers who might
not be received by the King."

"I can assure you that anything I send
to the King has only to reach him safely to get his immediate
attention."

While we had been talking he had been
studying me covertly, comparing, I suppose, my shabby appearance
with the manner I had made no attempt, with him, to disguise. He
said slowly, glancing down at the lists he held: "I have the King's
pass and seal, so I am to trust you. Am I to know your
name?"

"If you wish. It is for you only. I
have your promise?"

"Of course," he said, a shade
impatiently.

"Then I am Myrddin Emrys, commonly
known as Merlin. As you will gather, I am on a private journey, so
I am known as Emrys, a traveling doctor."

"Sir --"

"No," I said quickly, "sit down again.
I only told you so that you could be sure your information will
reach the King's ear, and quickly. May I see it now?"

He laid the lists down in front of me.
I studied them. More information: plans of fortified settlements,
numbers of troops and armaments, troop movements carefully
chronicled, supplies, ships...

I looked up, startled. "But these are
plans of Saxon dispositions?"

He nodded. "Recent, too, sir. I had a
stroke of fortune last summer. I was put in touch -- it doesn't
matter how -- with a Saxon, a third-generation federate. Like a lot
of the old federates, he wants to keep to the old order. These
Saxons hold their pledged word sacred, and besides" -- a glimmer of
a smile on the grim young mouth -- "they mistrust the incomers.
Some of these new adventurers want to displace the wealthy
federates just as much as they want to drive out the
British."

"And this information comes from him.
Can you trust it?"

"I think so. The parts I could check I
have found to be true. I don't know how good or how recent the
King's own information is, but I think you should draw his
attention to the section -- here -- about Elesa, and Cerdic
Elesing. That means --"

"Elesa's son. Yes. Elesa being our old
friend Eosa?"

"That's right, Horsa's son. You would
know that after he and his kinsman Octa escaped from Uther's
prison, Octa died, at Rutupiae, but Eosa made for Germany and
drummed up Octa's sons Colgrim and Badulf to make the attack in the
north...Well, what you may not have known was that before he died,
Octa was claiming the title of 'king' here in Britain. It didn't
amount to much more than the chieftainship he had had before, as
Hengist's son; neither Colgrim nor Badulf seems to have set much
store by it: but now they are dead, too, and, as you
see..."

"Eosa makes the same claim. Yes. With
any more success?"

"It seems so. King of the West Saxons,
he calls himself, and his young son Cerdic is known as 'the
Aetheling.' They claim descent from some far-back hero or demigod.
That's usual, of course, but the point is that his people believe
in it. You can see that this gives a new kind of color to the Saxon
invasions."

"It could alter what you were saying
about the old-established federates."

"Indeed. Eosa and Cerdic have that
sort of standing, you see. This talk of a 'kingdom'...He's
promising stability -- and rights -- to the old federates, and a
quick killing to the incomers. He's genuine, too. I mean, he's
shown himself to be more than a clever adventurer; he's established
the legend of a heroic kingship, he's accepted as a law-giver, and
powerful enough to enforce new customs. Changed the grave-customs,
even...they don't burn their dead now, I'm told, or even bury them
with their arms and grave-goods in the old way. According to Cerdic
the Aetheling, it's wasteful." That grim little smile again. "They
get their priests to cleanse the dead man's weapons ritually, and
then they re-use them. They now believe that a spear once used by a
good fighter will make its next owner as good, or better...and a
weapon taken from a defeated warrior will fight the harder for
being given a second chance. I tell you, a dangerous man. The most
dangerous, perhaps, since Hengist himself."

I was impressed, and said so. "The
King shall see this as soon as I can get it to him. It will be
brought to his attention straight away, I promise you that. You
must know how valuable it is. How soon can you have copies
made?"

"I already have copies. These can go
straight away."

"Good. Now, if you'll allow me, I'll
add a word to your report, and put my own report on Lake Fort in
with them."

He brought writing materials and set
them in front of me, then made for the door. "I'll arrange for a
courier."

"Thank you. A moment, though
--"

He paused. We had been speaking in
Lathi, but there was something about his use of it that told me he
came from the West Country. I said: "They told me in the tavern
that your name was Gerontius. Do I hazard a guess that it was once
Gereint?"

He smiled. It took years off him. "It
still is, sir."

"It's a name that Arthur will be glad
to know," I said, and turned to my writing.

He stood still for a moment, then went
to the door, opened it, and spoke with someone outside. He came
back, and, crossing to a table in the corner, poured wine and set a
goblet by me. I heard him draw breath once, as if to speak, but he
was silent.

At last I was finished. He went to the
door again, and came back, followed this time by a man, a wiry
fellow, looking as if he had just wakened up, but dressed ready for
the road. He carried a leather pouch with a strong lock. He was
ready to go, he said, putting away the packages Gereint handed to
him; he would eat on the way.

Gereint's terse instructions to him
showed once more how good his information was. "You'll do best to
go by Lindum. The King will have left Caerleon by now, and be
heading back toward Linnuis. By the time you reach Lindum you'll
get news of him."

The man nodded briefly, and went. So
within a few hours of my reaching Olicana, my report, with how much
more, was on its way back. Now I was free to turn my thoughts
toward Dunpeldyr and what I would find there.

But first, to pay Gereint for his
service. He poured more wine, and settled, with an eagerness that
must have been foreign to him for a long time, to ply me with
questions about Arthur's accession at Luguvallium, and the
activities since then at Caerleon. He deserved good measure, and I
gave it. Only when the midnight rounds were almost due did I get to
my own questions.

"Soon after Luguvallium, did Lot of
Lothian ride this way?"

"Yes, but not through Olicana itself.
There's a road -- it's little more than a track now -- that cuts
aside from the main road, and leads due east. It's a bad road, and
skirts some dangerous bogland, so though it's the quickest way for
anyone heading north, it is very little used."

"But Lot used it, even though he was
heading south for York? To avoid being seen in Olicana, do you
suppose?"

"That did not occur to me," said
Gereint. "Not, that is, until later...He has a house on that road.
He would go there to lodge, rather than come into the town
here."

"His own house? I see. Yes, I saw it
from the pass. A snug place, but lonely."

"As to that," he said, "he uses it
very little."

"But you knew he was
there?"

"I know most things that go on
hereabouts." A gesture at the padlocked chest. "Like an old wife at
the cottage door, I have little else to do but observe my
neighbors."

"I have reason to be grateful for it.
Then you must know who met Lot at his house in the hills?" His eyes
held mine for a full ten seconds. Then he smiled. "A certain
semi-royal lady. They arrived separately, and they left separately,
but they reached York together." His brows lifted. "But how did you
know this, sir?"

"I have my own ways of spying." He
said calmly: "So I believe. Well, now all is settled and correct in
the sight of God and mankind. The King of Lothian has gone with
Arthur from Caerleon into Linnuis, while his new queen waits at
Dunpeldyr to bear the child. You knew, of course, about the
child?"

"Yes."

"They have met here before," said
Gereint, with a nod that added plainly, "and now we see the results
of that meeting."

"Have they indeed? Often? And since
when?"

"Since I came here, perhaps three or
four times." His tone was not that of one passing on tavern gossip,
but merely briskly informative. "Once they were here for as much as
a month together, but they kept themselves close. It was a matter
of report only; we saw nothing of them." I thought of the
bedchamber with its regal crimson and gold. I had been right.
Long-time lovers, indeed.

If only I could believe what I had
suggested to Arthur, that the child could, in fact, be Lot's own.
At least, from the neutral tone that Gereint had used, that was
what most men assumed as yet.

"And now," he said, "love has had its
way, in spite of policy. Is it presumptuous in me to ask if the
High

King is angry?" He had earned an
honest answer, so I gave him one. "He was angry, naturally, at the
way the marriage was made, but now he sees that it will serve as
well as the other. Morgause is his half-sister, so the alliance
with King Lot must still hold. And Morgan is free for whatever
other marriage may suggest itself."

"Rheged," he said
immediately.

"Possibly."

He smiled, and let the subject drop.
We talked for a little longer, then I rose to go.

"Tell me something," I asked him. "Did
your information run to a knowledge of Merlin's
whereabouts?"