Legacy: Arthurian Saga (34 page)

He stared, the dice for a moment still
in his hands. "You fired the King's palace for a slave?"

"Why not? I happened to like my
servant better than I liked Camlach."

He gave me a slightly fuddled look,
and threw. A two and a four. I scooped back a couple of
coins.

"Damn you," said Dinias, "you've no
right to win, you've enough already. All right, again. Your
servant, indeed! You've a mighty high tone for a bastard playing at
being a scribe in a priest's cell."

I grinned. "You're a bastard, too,
remember, dear cousin."

"Maybe, but at least I know who my
father was."

"Keep your voice down, people are
listening. All right, throw you again." A pause while the dice
rattled. I watched them rather anxiously. So far, they had tended
to fall my way. How useful it would be, I thought, if power could
be brought to bear on such small things; it would take no effort,
and make the way smoother. But I had begun to learn that in fact
power made nothing smoother; when it came it was like having a wolf
by the throat. Sometimes I had felt like that boy in the old myth
who harnessed the horses of the sun and rode the world like a god
until the power burned him to death. I wondered if I would ever
feel the flames again.

The dice fell from my very human
fingers. A two and a one. No need to have the power if you could
have the luck. Dinias gave a grunt of satisfaction and gathered
them up, while I slid some coins towards him. The game went on. I
lost the next three throws, and the heap beside him grew
respectably. He was relaxing. No one was paying us any attention;
that had been imagination. It was time, perhaps, for a few more
facts.

"Where's the King now?" I asked. "Eh?
Oh, aye, the King. He's been gone from here nearly a month. Moved
north as soon as the weather slackened and the roads were
open."

"To Caer'n-ar-Von, you said --
Segontium?"

"Did I? Oh, well, I suppose he calls
that his base, but who'd want to be caught in that corner between
Wyddfa and the sea? No, he's building himself a new stronghold,
they say. Did you say you'd get another flask?"

"Here it comes. Help yourself, I've
had enough. A stronghold, you said? Where?"

"What? Oh, yes. Good wine, this. I
don't rightly know where he's building, somewhere in Snowdon. Told
you. Dinas Brenin...they call it...Or would, if he could get it
built."

"What's stopping him? Is there still
trouble up there? Vortimer's faction still, or something new?
They're saying in Cornwall that he's got thirty thousand Saxons at
his back."

"At his back, on both sides -- Saxons
everywhere, our King has. But not with him. With Hengist -- and
Hengist and the King aren't seeing eye to eye. Oh, he's beset, is
Vortigern, I can tell you!" Fortunately he was speaking quietly,
his words lost in the rattle of dice and the uproar around us. I
think he had half forgotten me. He scowled down at the table as he
threw. "Look at that. The bloody things are ill-wished. Like King's
Fort."

Somewhere the words touched a string
of memory to a faint humming, as elusive and untraceable as a bee
in the lime trees. I said casually, making my throw: "Ill-wished?
How?"

"Hah, that's better. Should be able to
beat that. Oh, well, you know these Northmen -- if the wind blows
colder one morning they say it's a dead spirit passing by. They
don't use surveyors in that army, the soothsayers do it all. I
heard he'd got the walls built four times to man height, and each
time by next morning they'd cracked clear across...How's
that?"

"Not bad. I couldn't beat it, I'm
afraid. Did he put guards on?"

"Of course. They saw
nothing."

"Well, why should they?" It seemed
that the luck was against us both; the dice were as ill-wished for
Dinias as the walls for Vortigern. In spite of myself I threw a
pair of doubles. Scowling, Dinias pushed half his pile towards me.
I said: "It only sounds as if he picked a soft place. Why not
move?"

"He picked the top of a crag, as
pretty a place to defend as you'll find in all Wales. It guards the
valley north and south, and stands over the road just where the
cliffs narrow both sides, and the road is squeezed right up under
the crag. And damn it, there's been a tower there before. The
locals have called it King's Fort time out of mind."

King's Fort...Dinas Brenin...The
humming swelled clear into a memory. Birches bone-white against a
milk-blue sky. The scream of a falcon. Two kings walking together,
and Cerdic's voice saying, "Come down, and I'll cut you in on a
dice game."

Before I even knew, I had done it, as
neatly as Cerdic himself. I flicked the still turning dice with a
quick finger. Dinias, up-ending the empty flask over his cup, never
noticed. The dice settled. A two and a one. I said ruefully: "You
won't have much trouble beating that."

He did beat it, but only just. He
pulled the coins towards him with a grunt of triumph, then sprawled
half across the table, his elbow in a pool of spilled wine. Even if
I did manage, I thought, to let this drunken idiot win enough money
off me, I would be lucky if I could get him even as far as the
curtain leading to the brothel rooms. My throw again. As I shook
the box I saw Cadal in the doorway, waiting to catch my eye. It was
time to be gone. I nodded, and he withdrew. As Dinias glanced to
see whom I had signaled to I threw again, and flicked a settling
six over with my sleeve. One and three. Dinias made a sound of
satisfaction and reached for the box.

"Tell you what," I said, "one more
throw and we'll go. Win or lose, I'll buy another flask and we'll
take it with us and drink it in my lodgings. We'll be more
comfortable than here." Once I got him outside, I reckoned, Cadal
and I could deal with him.

"Lodgings? I could have given you
lodgings. Plenty of room there, you needn't have sent your man to
look for lodgings. Got to be careful these days, you know. There. A
pair of fives. Beat that if you can, Merlin the bastard!" He tipped
the last of the wine down his throat, swallowed, and leaned back,
grinning.

"I'll give you the game." I pushed the
coins over to him, and made to stand up. As I looked round for the
pot-boy to order the promised flask, Dinias slammed his hand down
on the table with a crash. The dice jumped and rattled, and a cup
went over, rolled, and smashed on the floor. Men stopped talking,
staring.

"Oh, no, you don't! We'll play it out!
Walk out just as the luck's turning again, would you? I'll not take
that from you, or anyone else! Sit down and play, my bastard cousin
--"

"Oh, for God's sake, Dinias
--"

"All right, so I'm a bastard, too! All
I can say is, better be the bastard of a king than a no-man's-child
who never had a father at all!"

He finished with a hiccup, and someone
laughed. I laughed too, and reached for the dice. "All right, we'll
take them with us. I told you, win or lose, we'd take a flask home.
We can finish the game there. It's time we drank one another into
bed."

A hand fell on my shoulder, heavily.
As I twisted to see who it was, someone came on my other side and
gripped my arm. I saw Dinias stare upwards, gaping. Around us the
drinkers were suddenly silent.

Blackbeard tightened his grip.
"Quietly, young sir. We don't want a brawl, do we? Could we have a
word with you outside?"

6

I got to my feet. There was no clue in
the staring faces round me. Nobody spoke. "What's all this
about?"

"Outside, if you please," repeated
Blackbeard. "We don't want a --"

"I don't in the least mind having a
brawl," I said crisply. "You'll tell me who you are before I'll go
a step with you. And to start with, take your hands off me.
Landlord, who are these men?"

"King's men, sir. You'd best do as
they say. If you've got nothing to hide --"

" 'You've got nothing to fear'?" I
said. "I know that one, and it's never true." I shoved Blackbeard's
hand off my shoulder and turned to face him. I saw Dinias staring
with his mouth slack. This, I supposed, was not the meek-voiced
cousin he knew. Well, the time for that was past. "I don't mind
these men hearing what you have to say. Tell me here. Why do you
want to talk to me?"

"We were interested in what your
friend here was saying."

"Then why not talk to him?" Blackbeard
said stolidly: "All in good time. If you'd tell me who you are, and
where you come from -- ?"

"My name is Emrys, and I was born here
in Maridunum. I went to Cornwall some years ago, when I was a
child, and now had a fancy to come home and hear the news. That's
all."

"And this young man? He called you
'cousin'."

"That was a form of speech. We are
related, but not nearly. You probably also heard him call me
'bastard'."

"Wait a minute." The new voice came
from behind me, among the crowd. An elderly man with thin grey
hair, nobody I recognized, pushed his way to the front. "I know
him. He's telling the truth. Why, that's Myrddin Emrys, sure
enough, that was the old King's grandson." Then to me, "You won't
remember me, sir. I was your grandfather's steward, one of them. I
tell you this" -- he stretched his neck, like a hen, peering up at
Blackbeard -- "King's men or no King's men, you've no business to
lay a hand on this young gentleman. He's told you the truth. He
left Maridunum five years ago -- that's right, five, it was the
night the old King died -- and nobody heard tell where he'd gone.
But I'll take any oath you like he would never raise a hand against
King Vortigern. Why, he was training to be a priest, and never took
arms in his life. And if he wants a quiet drink with Prince Dinias,
why, they're related, as he told you, and who else would he drink
with, to get the news of home?" He nodded at me, kindly. "Yes,
indeed, that's Myrddin Emrys, that's a grown man now instead of a
little boy, but I'd know him anywhere. And let me tell you, sir,
I'm mightily glad to see you safe. It was feared you'd died in the
fire."

Blackbeard hadn't even glanced at him.
He was directly between me and the door. He never took his eyes off
me. "Myrddin Emrys. The old King's grandson." He said it slowly.
"And a bastard? Whose son, then?"

There was no point in denying it. I
had recognized the steward now. He was nodding at me, pleased with
himself. I said: "My mother was the King's daughter,
Niniane."

The black eyes narrowed. "Is this
true?"

"Quite true, quite true." It was the
steward, his goodwill to me patent in his pale stupid
eyes.

Blackbeard turned to me again. I saw
the next question forming on his lips. My heart was thumping, and I
could feel the blood stealing up into my face. I tried to will it
down.

"And your father?"

"I do not know." Perhaps he would only
think that the blood in my face was shame.

"Speak carefully, now," said
Blackbeard. "You must know. Who got you?"

"I do not know." He regarded me. "Your
mother, the King's daughter. You remember her?"

"I remember her well."

"And she never told you? You expect us
to believe this?" I said irritably: "I don't care what you believe
or what you don't believe. I'm tired of this. All my life people
have asked me this question, and all my life people have
disbelieved me. It's true, she never told me. I doubt if she told
anyone. As far as I know, she may have been telling the truth when
she said I was begotten of a devil." I made a gesture of
impatience. "Why do you ask?"

"We heard what the other young
gentleman said." His tone and look were stolid. -- " 'Better to be
a bastard and have a king for a father, than a no-man's-child who
never had a father at all!'"

"If I take no offense why should you?
You can see he's in his cups."

"We wanted to make sure, that's all.
And now we've made sure. The King wants you."

"The King?" I must have sounded
blank.

He nodded. "Vortigern. We've been
looking for you for three weeks past. You're to go to
him."

"I don't understand." I must have
looked bewildered rather than frightened. I could see my mission
falling round me in ruins, but with this was a mixture of confusion
and relief. If they had been looking for me for three weeks, this
surely could have nothing to do with Ambrosius.

Dinias had been sitting quietly enough
in his corner. I thought that most of what was said had not gone
through to him, but now he leaned forward, his hands flat on the
wine-splashed table.

"What does he want him for? Tell me
that."

"You've no call to worry." Blackbeard
threw it at him almost disdainfully. "It's not you he wants. But
I'll tell you what, since it was you led us to him, it's you who
should get the reward."

"Reward?" I asked. "What talk is
this?" Dinias was suddenly stone sober. "I said nothing. What do
you mean?"

Blackbeard nodded. "It was what you
said that led us to him."

"He was only asking questions about
the family -- he's been away," said my cousin. "You were listening.
Anybody could have listened, we weren't keeping our voices down. By
the gods, if we wanted to talk treason would we have talked it
here?"