Arthur’s war band marched north with all haste, travelling through lands untouched by violence. It was summer, with warm days and balmy nights. In the fields sheared sheep capered with their young; farmers cut hay from meadows and fields coloured by wild lilies, foxgloves and honeysuckle. Malegant used his fasces and Uther’s dragon banner to command food, ale and other supplies at towns they passed on the road north. Folk came to stare and bow at the army on the march. Arthur heard whispers on their lips of Excalibur and Merlin, and of his own name. Rumour, it seemed, travelled faster than spearmen on the march, and Malegant reported a swelling of the ranks as farm boys and runaways joined the column, eager to fight and make their reputation against the Saxons.
Nimue visited sacred places whenever the army camped. She sought springs, crags, caves, dark pools and gnarled trees and would chant prayers to the old gods, cut open the guts of goats, chickens and other animals to ask for the gods’ favour. People came to her for healing, even Christians, and before they reached Elmet on the fourteenth day, she had delivered a baby trapped in its mother’s womb, set a man’s painfully shattered thigh bone and expelled a dark spirit from a troubled child. Balin and Malegant rode ahead of the marching column to Loidis to seek Elmet’s warriors, and when Arthur reached them with the army, Idnerth, the Primus Pilus of Elmet, waited beside the stone road with a force of one hundred and fifty warriors clad in Roman armour, with their oval shields, short swords and pilum spears.
‘It’s all we can spare,’ Idnerth said, removing his helmet crested with bristling horsehair to glance back at his men. ‘Saxons are loose on our borders, and King Gwallog marches there with most of our army. But these men are stout fighters, fifty of the king’s own march with us.’ He gestured to a band of fifty tall men who all wore Roman lorica segmentata armour and shining helmets. Beside them sat two wagons filled with supplies for the march north. Arthur thanked Idnerth for his support, though he had hoped for more men from Elmet to swell his ranks, and after camping for a night outside Loidis’ stone walls, they continued the march north.
Idnerth spoke of messengers coming south from Gododdin and Rheged with news of the Saxon advance. War bands of Saxon raiders had struck along Elmet’s borders not long after Arthur had passed through the town, and for a while it appeared Elmet would be the target for the massed Saxon forces. But when news came from Gododdin of thousands of Saxons marching across their southern borders, it became clear that the attacks on Elmet were merely a feint to prevent their warriors from marching north to support the men of Gododdin. Idnerth could not say if the Saxons who raided Elmet were men from Ida or Octha’s war band, only that they were Saxons clad in furs who enslaved the border-dwellers, burned their farms and stole their livestock.
‘Octha has struck his blow,’ said Nimue, marching next to Arthur, who rode Llamrei at the head of his warriors. ‘He tried his hand at Elmet last summer and was thrown back by its warriors and the men of Powys. His men hunger for war, and Octha must give it to them. Without our men, and support from Rheged, Gododdin will surely fall. Merlin must know. He must march there along a different path.’
‘We were too far away in Dumnonia,’ Arthur replied, ruing the time it took to reach Gododdin from Britain’s south coast. ‘Our men will be exhausted by the time we reach the north.’ He glanced over his shoulder. Already men marched with ragged boots and grumbled at the aches in their legs from long days marching through valleys, woodlands and bramble-covered fields.
Arthur hauled on Llamrei’s reins and cantered along the column towards where Balin and his black cloaks marched as the rearguard.
‘I must ride ahead to Rheged, to see if King Urien and Ector have marched already for Gododdin. Urien would not commit to support us when we met, but he cannot ignore an army of Saxons to his north. If they have not, then we shall need their spearmen. We are only five hundred men. It’s not enough to fight Octha or Ida.’
‘Or both,’ said Balin, his hard face staring north into the wind. ‘Octha wintered with Ida, eating his food and drinking his ale. So, they must be allies, and Octha will owe Ida a vast share of whatever he can conquer.’
Arthur paled at the thought of Ida and Octha’s men united as one monstrous Saxon army. ‘How many spearmen can King Letan of Gododdin muster?’
Balin thought for a moment. ‘Three hundred warriors, and another three hundred from the hides in his kingdom. Go to Rheged. We shall meet you at Caer Ligualid.’
Arthur called his riders, and Malegant’s scouts, to him, and they rode hard for Rheged. Their horses needed regular rest stops, and through the day and night it took to ride the Roman roads north, Arthur’s mind churned with numbers of warriors, and how many men the Britons would need to stand against the Saxon army. With the men of Elmet and Dumnonia added to his and Balin’s own men Arthur led an army of five hundred warriors, King Urien could march three hundred spearmen, and another few hundred farmers, smiths, weavers and tanners from the farms, or hides, in his kingdom, but that would still only swell the army to a thousand men. That, matched to King Letan’s six hundred, was an army half the size of Octha’s horde, and every man in the Saxon army was a professional warrior, come to Britain on fast ships to make war, capture land and win glory.
The riders reached Caer Ligualid to find the fortress heaving with men. Arthur led his riders from southern forests to join the Roman road, and warriors thronged the fields and orchards around the stronghold’s palisade. Men stared at Arthur in his chain mail, flowing cloak and large Saxon shield hung across Llamrei’s back. He rode with his own men who bore shields painted with the sword, and twenty Dumnonians who rode under their dragon sigil. Llamrei’s hooves clattered on the wooden bridge which spanned the ditch, and the gate guards recognised Arthur and waved him on through the palisade’s gate.
‘Arthur?’ shouted a familiar voice, and Arthur grinned to see Kai stood with hands on his hips, standing astride the pathway which led straight through the Caer and its stone, oak and alder buildings. He wore a leather breastplate, and his beard was grown long, hanging down to his chest. Kai wore the sleeves of his tunic rolled up and his forearms rippled with death rings. Arthur ran to Kai, and they embraced warmly, clapping each other’s backs with heavy hands.
‘Men are mustering here for war?’ asked Arthur.
‘Aye, there are two hundred men here. Owain has already marched north with the rest of Rheged’s army.’
‘So, Urien changed his mind. Is Ector still here?’
‘Yes, we leave tomorrow. Riders came to Urien from Gododdin, and Ector pleaded King Letan’s case at the Bear Fort. If Gododdin falls, Rheged will surely be next. Owain spoke in favour of war, and Urien finally relented. Look at you, brother, you went away a stripling boy and have returned a lord in your mail, cloak and sword.’
‘Stripling?’
‘Would you like to wrestle here, in front of everyone, so I can put you on your arse for the hundredth time? You might have grown tall, brother, but you still look as weak as piss to me.’
Arthur laughed and hugged his foster brother close again. Kai ordered men to care for Llamrei and the rest of Arthur’s horses and for his men to bring food and ale. Then they strode together arm in arm to where Ector stood with his captains outside his hall.
‘Spear-father!’ Arthur called. Ector looked up from his deep conversation and a smile split his broad, hard face.
‘Arthur, my lad,’ Ector said, and met Arthur with a warm shake of his forearm. ‘You return to us in dark times.’
‘I know. That is why I have come. I rode with thirty riders ahead of my men, the rest march close behind. We have brought warriors from Dumnonia and Elmet. Balin marches with five hundred spearmen.’
‘Dumnonians? So, Uther welcomed you?’
‘I would not say he welcomed me, but he gave us three hundred warriors to help fight the Saxons. Word came to us they have attacked Gododdin?’
Ector grabbed Arthur’s shoulder with his powerful hand. ‘I must hear all about your travels. But time is now against us. You return just in time, and you’ve done well. We shall need every spear. There are three thousand Saxons marching deep into Gododdin as we speak. They are raping, murdering and looting their way north towards King Letan’s stronghold at Dunpendyrlaw.’
‘Octha?’
‘We don’t know yet, but it must be. He’s the only Saxon warlord seeking to win a kingdom.’
‘Have the men of Gododdin met the Saxons in battle?’
‘Not that we know of, though the last message came here four days ago from King Letan seeking urgent aid. So, we march to war, son, and we are glad to have your men with us.’
‘Arthur!’ came a woman’s call, and Lunete came bursting from Ector’s hall with her dark hair flowing behind her like a raven’s wing. She wore a blue woollen dress, and it was the first time Arthur had seen her wearing women’s clothes, for she normally wore the jerkin and trews of a hunter. She jumped on him, wrapping her arms and legs about his body, her face pressed close against the cold iron of his chain mail.
‘I have never seen you look so beautiful,’ Arthur said, and she punched him on the arm.
‘Lunete,’ Ector growled. ‘Back inside. We talk of war.’
Lunete frowned and pulled Arthur with her towards the hall. ‘Father makes me dress like this now. He says I will go to join King Urien’s court before summer’s end. He says I must learn to be a lady if I am to be married.’
‘I never thought I’d see the day. It suits you.’ Her blue eyes shone, and any man would be lucky to marry Lunete, if he could manage her wildness.
‘You must tell me of your adventures. Have you been far away?’
‘To Elmet and Dumnonia, but now is not the time for tales, Lunete. I must talk more with Father, but I give you my word that we shall sit together and talk more when I have time.’
She frowned at him, and Arthur left her there in the hall’s shadow where, even though it was not in her nature, she had to join the rest of Caer Ligualid’s women, spinning wool on distaffs, weaving, and managing the hall’s business. There was an unhappiness in her usually sparkling eyes, and as he went to Ector and his captains, he worried about Lunete and how she would cope in a world she was ill-equipped for. Ector had indulged Lunete, allowing her to hunt, learn the bow and spear with Kai and Arthur. Whenever she disguised herself to ride with the warriors, Ector would gently scold her, but all knew he was secretly proud of his daughter, who was a better archer than both Arthur and Kai. To change her now, expect her to wear a dress and become a doting wife to some lord in a distant hall was a challenge worthy of Merlin himself.
The army marched the following morning, Balin’s black cloaks sounded the carnyx to summon the spearmen to war, and its metallic, sonorous song rang around Caer Ligualid and stirred men’s hearts. They took a breakfast of cold meat, cheese and black bread, and each man packed enough food to last four days. Warriors marched with their war bands, Ector and the men of Rheged led the way with their shields painted with King Urien’s bear sigil, then went the men of Elmet, and the Caer’s folk marvelled at their Roman armour, bristled helmets, short swords, oval shields and long, iron-shafted spears. The Dumnonians marched next, led by Malegant who strode with the fasces rested on his right shoulder, and a warrior behind him carried a long spear tipped with the flowing dragon banner of Uther Pendragon. Arthur and Balin formed the rearguard, Balin’s men in their flowing black cloaks and shields daubed with the fox of lost Bernicia, and Arthur’s men with their sword-painted shields.
