Legacy: Arthurian Saga (30 page)

I said something once about this to
Tremorinus, who was kindly as well as clever, and who usually
managed to find time for me; but he laughed and put it aside, and I
said no more.

Ambrosius' technicians had more than
enough to think about in those days, without helping a boy to work
out a set of calculations of no practical use in the coming
invasion. So I let it be.

It was in the spring of my eighteenth
year that the news came finally from Britain. Through January and
February, winter had closed the seaways, and it was not till early
March, taking advantage of the cold still weather before the gales
began, that a small trading boat put into port, and Ambrosius got
news.

Stirring news it was -- literally so,
for within a few hours of its coming, the Count's messengers were
riding north and east, to gather in his allies at last, and
quickly, for the news was late.

It appeared that Vortimer had finally,
some time before, broken with his father and the Saxon Queen. Tired
of petitioning the High King to break with his Saxon allies and
protect his own people from them, several of the British leaders --
among them the men of the West -- had persuaded Vortimer to take
matters into his own hands at last, and had risen with him. They
had declared him King, and rallied to his banner against the
Saxons, whom they had succeeded in driving back south and
eastwards, till they took refuge with their longships in the Isle
of Thanet. Even there Vortimer pursued them, and through the last
days of autumn and the beginning of winter had beleaguered them
there until they pleaded only to be allowed to depart in peace,
packed up their goods, and went back to Germany, leaving their
women and children behind them.

But Vortimer's victorious kingship did
not last long. It was not clear exactly what had happened, but the
rumor was that he had died of poison treacherously administered by
a familiar of the Queen. Whatever the truth of the matter, he was
dead, and Vortigern his father was once more in command. Almost his
first act had been (and again the blame was imputed to his wife) to
send yet again for Hengist and his Saxons to return to
Britain.

"With a small force," he had said,
"nothing but a mobile peace-keeping force to help him impose order
and pull together his divided kingdom." In fact, the Saxons had
promised three hundred thousand men. So rumor said, and though it
was to be supposed that rumor lied, it was certain at any rate that
Hengist planned to come with a considerable force.

There was also a fragment of news from
Maridunum. The messenger was no spy of Ambrosius; the news we got
was, as it were, only the larger rumors. These were bad enough. It
seemed that my uncle Camlach, together with all his nobles -- my
grandfather's men, the men that I knew -- had risen with Vortimer
and fought beside him in the four pitched battles against the
Saxons. In the second, at Episford, Camlach had been killed, along
with Vortimer's brother Katigern. What concerned me more was that
after Vortimer's death reprisals had been leveled at the men who
had fought with him. Vortigern had annexed Camlach's kingdom to
join his own lands of Guent, and, wanting hostages, had repeated
his action of twenty-five years earlier; he had taken Camlach's
children, one of them still an infant, and lodged them in the care
of Queen Rowena. We had no means of knowing if they were still
alive. Nor did we know if Olwen's son, who had met the same fate,
had survived. It seemed unlikely. Of my mother there was no
news.

Two days after the news came, the
spring gales began, and once more the seas were locked against us
and against news. But this hardly mattered; indeed, it worked both
ways. If we could get no news from Britain, they could have none of
us, and of the final accelerated preparations for the invasion of
Western Britain. For it was certain that the time had now come. It
was not only a case of marching to the relief of Wales and
Cornwall, but if there were to be any men left to rally to the Red
Dragon, the Red Dragon would have to fight for his crown this
coming year.

"You'll go back with the first boat,"
said Ambrosius to me, but without looking up from the map which was
spread on the table in front of him.

I was standing over by the window.
Even with the shutters closed and curtains drawn I could hear the
wind, and beside me the curtains stirred in the draught. I said:
"Yes, sir," and crossed to the table. Then I saw his finger was
pointing on the map. "I'm to go to Maridunum?"

He nodded. "You'll take the first
westbound boat, and make your way home from wherever it docks. You
are to go straight up to Galapas and get what news there is from
him. I doubt if you would be recognized in the town, but take no
risks. Galapas is safe. You can make him your base."

"There was no word from Cornwall,
then?"

"Nothing, except a rumor that Gorlois
was with Vortigern."

"With Vortigern?" I digested this for
a moment. "Then he didn't rise with Vortimer?"

"As far as my information goes,
no."

"He's trimming, then?"

"Perhaps. I find it hard to believe.
It may mean nothing. I understand he has married a young wife, and
it may only be that he kept within walls all winter to keep her
warm. Or that he foresaw what would happen to Vortimer, and
preferred to serve my cause by staying safe and apparently loyal to
the High King. But until I know, I cannot send to him directly. He
may be watched. So you are to go to Galapas, for the news from
Wales. I'm told Vortigern's holed up there somewhere, while the
length of Eastern Britain lies open to Hengist. I'll have to smoke
the old wolf out first, then weld the West against the Saxons. But
it will have to be fast. And I want Caerleon." He looked up then.
"I'm sending your old friend with you -- Marric. You can send word
back by him. Let's hope you find all well. You'll want news
yourself, I dare say."

"It can wait," I said.

He said nothing to that, but raised
his brows at me, and then turned back to the map. "Well, sit down
and I'll brief you myself. Let's hope you can get away
soon."

I indicated the swaying curtains. "I
shall be sick all the way."

He looked up from the map, and
laughed. "By Mithras, I hadn't thought of that. Do you suppose I
shall be, too? A damned undignified way to go back to one's
home."

"To one's kingdom," I said.

2

I crossed in early April, and on the
same ship as before. But the crossing could not have been more
different. This was not Myrddin, the runaway, but Merlinus, a
well-dressed young Roman with money in his pocket, and servants in
attendance. Where Myrddin had been locked naked in the hold,
Merlinus had a comfortable cabin, and marked deference paid him by
the captain. Cadal, of course, was one of my servants, and the
other, to my own amusement though not his, was Marric. (Hanno was
dead, having overreached himself, I gathered, in a little matter of
blackmail.) Naturally I carried no outward sign of my connection
with Ambrosius, but nothing would part me from the brooch he had
given me; I wore this clipped inside the shoulder of my tunic. It
was doubtful whether anyone would have recognized in me the runaway
of five years ago, and certainly the captain gave no sign, but I
held myself aloof, and was careful to speak nothing but
Breton.

As luck would have it, the boat was
going straight to the mouth of the Tywy and would anchor at
Maridunum, but it had been arranged that Cadal and I were to be put
off by boat as soon as the trader arrived in the
estuary.

It was, in fact, my previous journey
in reverse, but in the most important respect there was no
difference. I was sick all the way. The fact that this time I had a
comfortable bunk and Cadal to look after me, instead of sacks and a
bucket in the hold, made not the slightest difference to me. As
soon as the ship nosed out of the Small Sea, and met the windy
April weather of the Bay, I left my brave stance in the bows and
went below and lay down.

We had what they tell me was a fair
wind, and we crept into the estuary and dropped anchor just before
dawn, ten days before the Ides of April.

It was a still dawn, misty and cold.
It was very quiet. The tide was just on the turn, beginning its
flow up the estuary, and as our boat left the ship's side the only
sound was the hiss and chuckle of water along her sides, and the
soft splash of the paddles. Far away, faint and metallic, I could
hear cocks crowing. Somewhere beyond the mist lambs were crying,
answered by the deeper bleating of sheep. The air smelled soft,
clear and salty, and in some curious way, of home.

We kept well out to the center of the
stream, and the mist hid us from the banks. If we spoke at all, it
was in whispers; once when a dog barked from the bank we heard a
man speak to it almost as clearly as if he had been in the boat
with us; this was sufficient warning, and we kept our voices
down.

It was a strong spring tide, and took
us fast. This was as well, for we had made anchor later than we
should, and the light was growing. I saw the sailors who rowed us
glance anxiously upwards and then lengthen their stroke. I leaned
forward, straining my eyes for a glimpse of the bank I could
recognize. Cadal said in my ear: "Glad to be back?"

"That depends on what we find.
Mithras, but I'm hungry."

"That's not surprising," he said, with
a sour chuckle. "What are you looking for?"

"There should be a bay -- white sand
with a stream coming down through trees -- and a ridge behind it
with a crest of pines. We'll put in there."

He nodded. The plan was that Cadal and
I should be landed on the side of the estuary away from Maridunum,
at a point I knew from which we could make our way unseen to join
the road from the south. We would be travelers from Cornwall; I
would do the talking, but Cadal's accent would pass with any but a
native Cornishman. I had with me some pots of salve and a small
chest of medicines, and if challenged could pass as a traveling
doctor, a disguise that would serve as a pass to more or less
anywhere I wanted to go.

Marric was still on board. He would go
in with the trader, and disembark as usual at the wharf. He would
try to find his old contacts in the town, and pick up what news he
could. Cadal would go with me to the cave of Galapas, and act as
connecting link with Marric to pass over what information I got.
The ship was to lie for three days in the Tywy; when she sailed
Marric would take the news back with her. Whether I and Cadal would
be with him would depend on what we found; neither my father nor I
forgot that after Camlach's part in the rebellion Vortigern must
have been through Maridunum like a fox through a hen-run, and maybe
his Saxons with him. My first duty was to get news of Vortigern,
and send it back; my second to find my mother and see that she was
safe.

It was good to be on land again; not
dry land, for the grass at the head of the ridge was long and
soaking, but I felt light and excited as the boat vanished under
the mist and Cadal and I left the shore and made our way inland
towards the road. I don't know what I expected to find in
Maridunum; I don't even know that I cared overmuch; it was not the
homecoming that made my spirits lift, but the fact that at last I
had a job to do for Ambrosius. If I could not yet do a prophet's
work for him, at least I could do a man's work, and then a son's. I
believe that all the time I was half hoping that I would be asked
to die for him. I was very young.

We reached the bridge without
incident. Luck was with us there, for we fell in with a
horse-trader who had a couple of nags in hand which he hoped to
sell in the town. I bought one of them from him, haggling just
enough to prevent suspicion; he was pleased enough with the price
to throw in a rather worn saddle. By the time the transaction was
finished it was full light and there were one or two people about,
but no one gave us more than a cursory glance, except for one
fellow who, apparently recognizing the horse, grinned, and said --
to Cadal rather than to me -- "Were you planning to go far,
mate?"

I pretended not to hear, but from the
corner of my eye saw Cadal spread his hands, shrug, and turn his
eyes up in my direction. The look said, all too plainly, "I only
follow where he goes, and he's crazy anyway."

Presently the towpath was empty. Cadal
came alongside, and hooked a hand through the neck-strap. "He's
right, you know. This old screw won't get you far. How far is it,
anyway?"

"Probably not nearly as far as I
remember. Six miles at the outside."

"Uphill most of the way, you
said?"

"I can always walk." I smoothed a hand
along the skinny neck.

"He's not as much of a wreck as he
looks, you know. There's not much wrong that a few good feeds won't
put right."

"Then at least you won't have wasted
your money. What are you looking at over that wall?"

"That's where I used to
live."

We were passing my grandfather's
house. It looked very little changed. From the cob's back I could
just see over the wall to the terrace where the quince tree grew,
its brilliant flame-colored blossoms opening to the morning sun.
And there was the garden where Camlach had given me the poisoned
apricot. And there the gate where I had run in tears.