‘We must take what we need,’ said Arthur. He straightened his back and drew Excalibur. ‘Bors and Balin are too grievously wounded to fight again. Stay here with Gawain, Guinevere and the horses. Kai, Dewi and Aneirin, follow me.’
‘Since when do you give the orders?’ said Dewi. The tall, lugubrious black cloak glanced at Balin for support. Aneirin, the other black-cloaked survivor of Dun Guaroy, licked his lips and glanced from Arthur to Balin.
‘Do as he says,’ Balin whispered. His eyes were closed, and he grimaced, holding his elbow tight to his wounded torso. ‘We need supplies and more horses. Be quick, for the enemy is surely on our heels. The rest of you also go.’ Balin ordered his five warriors who had waited on the dunes to march with Arthur as well, so that eight men marched away from the beleaguered survivors.
Arthur followed a path with deep, rain-filled ruts worn by wagon wheels, down towards the buildings and boiling cauldrons. An overgrown hedge hid them from the salt farm, but Arthur could hear the harsh bark of Saxon voices as they drew closer. He came off the path and strode between two stone buildings and on to a shale beach where three Saxons in jerkins and carrying spears shouted at four men crouched in the shallows. The Saxons boiled brine in the cauldrons, and their slaves graded and strained the salt using deep buckets. Salt was valuable. Lords and wealthy men paid vast sums to buy it in sealed ceramic jars, and Ector always bought one for the yule celebrations in midwinter. The salt mine was precious to its owner, and so Arthur expected there to be more than the three Saxons guarding its production.
‘Are you men Britons?’ Arthur shouted at the four men who shook their buckets in the water. The Saxons and the slaves turned to him in surprise, and Arthur strode towards them. ‘Are you Britons?’ he repeated, but louder this time.
‘Yes,’ replied one slave, a thin man with hollow eyes.
‘How many guards are there?’
‘These three and three more inside.’ He pointed a bony finger towards the buildings.
One of the Saxons shouted at Arthur in his own tongue, and all three levelled their spears. Without breaking stride, Arthur batted a rust-dotted spear aside and punched Excalibur’s blade into the guard’s stomach. He twisted the blade, wrenched it free and kicked the groaning Saxon on to the shale beach. The two remaining Saxons tried to run, but Kai and the black cloaks cut them down.
‘I am Arthur,’ he said, and held up Excalibur to the four slaves, who stared slowly, eyes flitting from the dying Saxons to the warrior who had come so unexpectedly. ‘This is Excalibur, the sword of Aurelius Ambrosius granted to me by Merlin the druid, to free Britain from the Saxon invaders. You are now free. Will you pledge your lives to my cause and my sword?’
The four men looked at each other nervously. Kai, Dewi and Aneirin stared at Arthur as though he were a madman. But Arthur suddenly had clarity where before there had been confusion. He was a man where before he had been a child, and he knew what must be done. Merlin was a legend, perhaps the last great druid, and all men feared his power and knew of Ambrosius’ sword. Arthur could use both the legend and the sword to bind men to him, to imbue them with confidence and belief in a magic which could become real if enough men believed in it. The belief in Merlin, Excalibur, the old gods and the power in the land itself could be enough to unite the kingdoms of Britain to fight the Saxon hordes.
‘We will, lord,’ said the hollow-eyed man. He threw his bucket aside and came from the water, linen rags hanging loose about his thin body. ‘My name is Cadog, and I was a warrior once. I’ve been a slave in this godforsaken place for five winters.’ He knelt and raised his hands to Arthur, and Arthur lowered Excalibur so that the man could kiss its bloody blade.
‘You are now a warrior again. Do you swear to fight and die for me, to be my man?’
‘Yes, lord,’ he said. Though Arthur was not a lord, the man did him the honour of the title and the other three men followed his lead.
‘What are you doing?’ said Kai, staring at Arthur in disbelief.
‘It’s time to fight back properly,’ Arthur said, and clapped Kai on the shoulder. ‘There are more Saxons here to kill, and we need to find food, dry clothes and ale.’
They found the remaining Saxons asleep inside the stone huts, and Arthur let the four slaves kill them. They hacked at their former masters with spears and seax blades, took their clothes and weapons and became men again. Dewi found a wagon and two mules in a stable behind the stone buildings, which Cadog said the Saxons used to transport the salt in huge ceramic jars. Arthur took the wagon and the mules and filled it with supplies from the guardhouse. They had smoked fish, pork, butter, milk, loaves of dark bread and three jars of ale.
The survivors of Dun Guaroy ate the food hungrily, and Arthur handed Guinevere a loaf of bread for which she thanked him. Arthur overheard Dewi whispering to Balin of how Arthur had spoken to the slaves of his sword and of Merlin, and how Arthur had taken the freedmen’s oaths, but Balin seemed not to care in his wounded state. They pushed hard westwards and as the sun set beyond the high peaks, they reached the foothills of the mountains which split northern Britain in two. Kai spotted spearmen in the distance, the first sign of their Saxon enemies pursuing them from Dun Guaroy, but the survivors reached the safety of the mountain passes before the enemy could draw close.
As night fell and washed the land in shadow, Balin led them high into the foothills to a sheltered cleft in a steep rock face. They risked a small campfire to warm themselves after the hardships suffered since the attack on Ida’s fortress. Cadog and the freedmen kept to themselves, huddled tightly and thankful for their share of the food and ale. The warriors tended to each other’s wounds. Prince Gawain bound Bors and Balin’s wounds as best he could, but they would need to be cleaned and properly tended before the dreaded rot set in. Bors had taken too many cuts to his arms and body to count, but one gash across his side oozed dark blood and Arthur feared for the big man. His broad face was ghostly white, and he lay silently beside the fire, sweating from the pain, whilst Gawain gave him sips of ale to slake his thirst. Balin’s men cleaned and wrapped his wounds as they huddled about their comitatus, remembering those who had died in the fighting with solemn words and vows to continue the fight for their lost kingdom.
Guinevere sat with Arthur and Kai, and with the fire to warm her, she seemed to awake from her shock at the rescue and escape from Dun Guaroy. Her copper hair fell about her shoulders, and she tied it back with a scrap of cloth to reveal her long face and high cheekbones. She shared one of the last remaining loaves with Kai and Arthur, and they each had a handful of food left from the provisions taken from the salt mine.
‘I haven’t thanked you,’ Guinevere said. She spoke the language of the Britons, but with the strange accent of her people from across the narrow sea. ‘You risked so much to enter that awful place. I shall forever be indebted to you all.’ She smiled, and her beauty was almost painful to look upon. Her emerald eyes shone, even in the shadows beneath the rocks, and Arthur thought her smile was so radiant that it could dim the sun.
‘Your father sent a man to King Urien of Rheged to ask for help, my lady,’ said Kai. ‘A druid came and ordered that we rescue you. Merlin was with us.’
‘Merlin the druid marched with you?’ she said, shuffling closer with excitement.
‘Yes, but he left before we attacked the fort. We captured a gwyllion and Merlin took her with him.’
‘You are brave men.’
‘Any warrior would have done the same, and many perished in the attempt. Thirty men of Gododdin gave their lives to rescue Prince Gawain.’
‘And he will feel the weight of their loss. Gawain was a prisoner far longer than I, and I fear he suffered at their brutish hands.’
‘Did they hurt you, lady?’ asked Kai.
‘No, they paraded me and made me wear their stinking furs, but they wanted to ransom me back to my father and so Ida ordered his men to leave me alone. I sailed from Cameliard to join King Uther’s court as a lady-in-waiting. I think my father hoped I would find noble suitors in Dumnonia or another powerful kingdom. The Saxons captured our ship off the coast and killed my father’s warriors. They captured my two handmaidens and I have not seen them since that fateful day.’
‘We will take you to King Urien, lady,’ said Arthur, ‘then perhaps you can travel south to Dumnonia.’
‘You are Urien’s men?’
‘We are,’ said Kai, ‘my father is Ector, champion of Rheged.’
‘Then I am fortunate that the men of Rheged are so brave. Now, tell me of Merlin and this Saxon witch. I have heard tales of Merlin the druid since I was a girl, of how he defeated a dragon and trapped it beneath a mountain, of how he can see the future and turn men into beasts.’
They spoke deep into the night, even after the rest of the warriors had fallen asleep. Arthur could not take his eyes off Guinevere, and when she caught his eye, he looked away and cursed at the redness blooming upon his cheeks. As the conversation went on, mostly between her and Kai, Guinevere showed herself to be both clever and thoughtful. She knew of the events in Britain, of the kingdoms, their kings and the troubles with the Saxons. She spoke of her father’s problems with marauding Franks, of how Cameliard and Armorica were hard-pressed with Franks from the south and east, battle-hardened from time spent fighting for the Romans. When at last they lay down to sleep, Arthur listened to her breathing and wondered if there was a fairer woman in the world than Princess Guinevere of Cameliard.
The Saxons did not pursue them across the mountain passes, and Gawain persuaded the band of survivors to turn north to Gododdin rather than continue south-west to Rheged. They were too few, Gawain argued, to make it through the borderlands between Lloegyr and Rheged, which were filled with bands of bucellari raiders and masterless men. Arthur saw no reason not to return Gawain and Bors to their kingdom before taking Guinevere to King Urien and marching from Gododdin to Rheged with a force of Gododdin spearmen to protect them on the journey seemed like a good idea after the dangers of their march to Dun Guaroy. They reached Gododdin after two days of slow progress. Gawain moved Bors to the wagon where he lay, sometimes shivering and sometimes sweating, and Arthur was glad when they spied the great hill fort of Dunpendyrlaw, home of King Letan Luyddoc of Gododdin.
The fort sat atop a huge, grass-covered mound which rose from the flatlands like a great hump. Balin had his men sound the carnyx to announce their arrival, and riders came thundering from the hill and were astonished to see their champion Bors laid low, and their prince alive and well. King Letan greeted them warmly at the fort’s gates. He was grey-bearded, and his face lined with age, but he moved with the litheness and grace of a younger man. He clapped each man on the shoulder, thanked them for their bravery, and hugged Gawain so hard that he lifted the prince off his feet. King Letan had his finest healers take care of Bors and threw a feast to celebrate the return of his son. Gawain appeared at the feast in a fine tunic of green cloth and a bronze circlet upon his brow, his hair and beard cleaned and oiled, and looked no longer the filthy, thin prisoner of King Ida. The king honoured Balin, Arthur, Kai and the surviving black cloaks with gifts, and Arthur bowed in gratitude when King Letan handed him a finely woven russet cloak edged with yellow stitching and a fur-lined hood.
The men of Gododdin worshipped the old gods, for the further north a man went in Britain, the less fervent was Christ’s grip. There were no priests in Gododdin, and King Urien tolerated their presence in Rheged more out of fear of their God’s displeasure than because he favoured Christ over the old gods. In the southern kingdoms, like Dumnonia, all men worshipped Christ and priests and bishops were powerful men who spoke the word of God into their leader’s ears. They obtained land for their churches and silver for their coffers. Druids kept no land, and their holy places were the groves, lakes, streams, dykes, mountains and marshes of Britain. Gododdin’s shields bore the stag sigil, and a magnificent stag’s skull with sprawling yellowed antlers hung above King Letan’s high table, just as a bear did in Urien’s hall. Arthur marvelled at the size of the antlers, and he and Kai argued over how big the beast must have been before it died. The men of Gododdin wore their hair and beards long, and they wove dyed strips of cloth into their hair. They wore woollen tunics dyed red, and each wore a russet cloak pinned at their left shoulder with cloak pins of silver and gold. King Letan wore a huge gold stag-shaped pin with silver antlers, and the younger warriors at the back of the hall wore faded cloaks with simple pins made of bronze or copper.
Guinevere came to the feast in a dress of blue wool, with her hair tied atop her head in plaited coils. King Letan presented her with a silver cloak pin in the shape of a swan, and her beauty captivated every warrior in the hall, including Arthur. A wise old woman with a wrinkled face and a milky eye had tended to Arthur’s wounds before the feast. She had cleaned the gashes upon his face and back, sewn them closed with a sheep-gut thread, and packed them tight with a honey poultice. Arthur touched the wound on his face gingerly, hoping that Guinevere would not sicken at the stitching or cloth stuck to his cheek. King Letan wanted all the news of the march into Lloegyr, and there was much lamenting in the hall when Balin spoke of the number of warriors in Octha’s army. There were not three thousand spears in all of Gododdin, and King Letan asked Arthur and Kai to talk to King Urien upon their return and ask him to send riders to Gododdin to plan for the inevitable wars to come. Balin also spoke of Merlin, and King Letan eyed Arthur carefully when he brought forth Excalibur and showed her finely wrought blade around the hall.
‘Strange days indeed,’ said King Letan when Arthur knelt before him to hand the king his blade. Letan turned it over and admired the weapon’s balance and craftmanship. ‘Excalibur has returned, and in the hand of a son of nowhere. Merlin’s cunning is behind this, and none but a fool would try to understand the warp and weft of his plans. I fought beside Ambrosius in the Great War, lad, and I have seen this blade cut down many a Saxon. Wield it well, for doubtless you will need it when we fight the invaders.’
Arthur bowed to the king but said nothing. He shared a feasting bench with Kai, Cadog and the three men newly sworn to him. Frothy ale flowed freely, as did platters of meat, fish and honey cakes, and when men began to sing old battle songs with red cheeks and arms around one another, Arthur sought Balin of the Two Swords who sat alone at a bench below the high table. His men were on a nearby table, surrounded by Gododdin men as they told of the horrors of Dun Guaroy, of how well the slaughtered men of Gododdin had fought against the Saxon horde, and of how Bors had fought like a demon to free Prince Gawain from his captivity.
