‘I am ready,’ said Huell, stepping forward, his jaw set, and his chest puffed out with pride.
‘And you two.’
Arthur rocked as though slapped, because the druid pointed his long-nailed finger at Arthur and Kai.
‘You are the young warriors, pure of flesh and spirit, who will make this journey. The hope of Britain lies with you. Merlin commands you undertake this deed, bring back the lost princess, brave the Saxon hordes and return to us with the power of the gods in your hearts.’
Urien bunched his heavy fists and glowered down at the druid. ‘It shall be so. These men will make the journey, so return to Merlin with my blessing.’
Kadvuz inclined his head slightly to the king, and then flashed a malevolent stare at Arthur and Kai, and Arthur was frozen to the spot as though turned to ice.
Urien pointed at Leodegrance’s messenger. ‘Go, friend,’ he said. ‘Return to your king and tell him that Merlin has spoken, and that Rheged will find his daughter for him. What is the girl’s name?’
‘In your tongue she is Gwynhyfar, but to us she is Guinevere.’
3
King Urien threw a feast that night for his warriors, and the most famous men in Rheged packed the feasting benches. King Urien invited only men with fair famed reputations into the hall, so Arthur and Kai had to settle for a meal of fish stew and hard bread outside Urien’s pig hovel, while the warriors inside enjoyed mutton, cheese, honey, butter, duck and fine bread inside a fire-warmed hall. The hilltop hall roared with the noise of their boasting, laughing, gambling and tales of brave deeds, and the Bear Fort buzzed with the news of Kadvuz, how he had arrived unlooked for and had departed immediately, disappearing into the darkness with his dogs and his fearsome druid power.
‘I still can’t believe they chose us,’ Kai said brightly as he mopped up the last of his soup with a chunk of black bread. ‘Looks like we shall see lots of action this summer.’
‘Why us?’ Arthur said. ‘How does the druid even know who we are? I understand why he would pick Huell, a famous warrior, but who beyond Caer Ligualid even knows our names?’
‘Speak for yourself. I have killed a man. God save us, Arthur, but you are as miserable as an old fishwife. This quest means our chance at glory, time for us to make our reputations and have men tell stories about us like they do my father.’
‘You are right, I’m sorry. We should find more ale before the warriors drink it all.’ Arthur smiled, though he was full of fear. Not just of the druid and the hold he exerted over a hall of fearsome warriors, but also of the responsibility they carried with them. The very fate of Britain was in their hands, according to Kadvuz, not just the life of a princess, and Arthur had not even killed an enemy in battle.
The two friends searched the Bear Fort for a cask of mead and came upon a band of Ector’s men sat around a small fire behind a blacksmith’s forge. They were about to join them when Huell appeared, malevolent and smirking and with his thumbs tucked in his belt. ‘No ale for you, pups. Ector wants to see you, Kai, and you, bastard. Up at the hall. He’s outside the doors, so don’t keep him waiting.’
Arthur sighed, and Kai shook his head, staring longingly at the men’s mugs of mead. But they both knew better than to keep their father waiting. They trudged through the busy courtyard, churned muddy by so many boots and horses. They hurried around campfires where men huddled eating, drinking and casting envious glances up at Urien’s hall, where bright firelight shone through the window shutters and the raucous shouts of men enjoying good food and ale rolled down the hillside. The warriors not invited to the feast gathered in the courtyard; they told stories and gambled on throwboards, and boasted about how well they would fight in the war to come.
Arthur found Ector leaning against the side of Urien’s hall, staring at the stars. It was a clear night and the pattern of twinkling stars seemed low, as though heaven was that bit closer to the world of men that night.
‘You asked for us, father?’ said Kai, careful to keep the frustration at being denied mead from his voice.
Ector turned, surprised to hear his son, and snapped himself from his thoughts. His face was grave and pale, and there was a sadness in his eyes. ‘Aye,’ he said wistfully, a wan smile at the corner of his hard mouth. ‘King Urien has called his men to war, and we march tomorrow towards our eastern borders to fight the Saxons. They have chosen you two for this venture into Lloegyr, and it is full of danger. I do not wish this for you both, my sons, for it has the cunning hand of Merlin behind it, and he is both betrayer and benefactor at his whim.’
‘I am glad the druid picked Arthur and I, this is our chance to make our names,’ said Kai, grinning and rubbing his hands together at the prospect of battle and the chance at glory and reputation.
Ector sighed, closed his eyes and raised a hand to still his son. ‘I fear for you, my boys. There is a strangeness in this. No one has laid eyes on Merlin since the Great War, and I am reluctant to let you both become pulled into his perilous and cunning plans. But the king commands that it be done, and so you must go with Huell whilst I march with the army to meet the Saxon threat on our border. I know Merlin of old, and he had a hand to play in what our people lost in the war with Vortigern. Beware of him.’
‘We are ready, father,’ said Kai, and Ector sighed and cupped his youthful face in his huge hand.
‘Do as Huell commands. Keep close to him and protect yourselves. Come back to us alive, my boys.’
‘But spear-father,’ Arthur said, the fear and shock of Kadvuz’s arrival, and the impossible quest into Lloegyr, seizing hold of him. Talk of Merlin shook Arthur, a figure so revered by bards and scops at winter fires that he was almost legendary, a druid with ancient powers who had pulled Arthur and Kai into the warp and weft of his cunning. ‘Can I not march with you and the army?’ Huell was belligerent and cold with most men, but to Arthur he was cruel and malevolent, and Arthur could not entrust his life to a man who hated him, and he was still fearful of why the druid had selected him and Kai for this task.
‘No, you must do this thing, there is no way out of it now. I must lead the army. That is my place. I trust you both. You are well trained and capable, and Huell will guide you. Kadvuz has spoken with the power of Merlin’s tongue, and Urien will not go against that. So, you will do this thing, and I will pray every day that you return to me alive.’ Ector turned to Arthur and his eyes bore into Arthur’s like hot coals. ‘There is reputation in this, boys. Rescue a princess from across the sea and men will sing of your deeds to their children’s children. I will not be here forever, and this will be a hard war. You need reputations of your own. If you are to serve Urien and be warriors or a comitatus like me, you must earn it. This is my will, the will of the old gods, the new God and the will of the king, and you will see to it.’
‘Yes, father,’ said Kai, and when Arthur opened his mouth to protest again, Kai stamped on his foot to silence him.
Ector nodded, pleased that his sons accepted his orders. It was a strange order, Arthur thought. Why not just send Huell and a band of his trusted warriors to rescue the princess? Marching beyond the Saxon frontier was beyond dangerous, surely more dangerous than the war itself, where Ector and Rheged’s army could protect Arthur and Kai. Who cared what the druids said about anything? Their gods were dying, and when Ector said he would pray for his sons, he would pray to God and to Cernunnos, The Morrigan and Manawydan. Arthur searched Ector’s face but saw no guile there, nothing hidden. Arthur and Kai were men now. Many lads took up the spear two summers before the age Arthur was now and so he decided that Ector had spoken true. Ector saw in this quest a chance for his sons to earn a reputation beyond many of the greatest warriors in Urien’s kingdom. Ector thought like a warrior. It was the very essence of his being. To Ector, reputation and warrior prowess were everything. He had earned his fair fame during the Great War and saw a chance in this dangerous expedition for his son and foster son to do the same. Ector knew the dangers, but the life of a warrior was to live amongst danger, violence and death.
‘Queen Igraine is ill,’ Ector said, leaning close with his voice lowered. ‘The queen and I are old friends, and I would see her before we march. You will accompany me.’
Arthur glanced at Kai and then back at Ector, and then followed as Ector led them around the edge of Urien’s great hall. The sounds of the warriors laughing and feasting wafted through the window shutters with the smell of roasted meat and logs burning on the great hearth. They reached the rear of the hall, and Arthur peered out into the river valley below. They were high on the Bear Fort’s raised mound, and in the darkness the river glistened like melted silver, reflecting the half-moon in its shining water. The woodland, marshes and fields appeared as dark shapes, smudges beneath the cloak of darkness and Ector led them to a large, barn-like building built on to the rear of his hall. Two spearmen guarded its door, and they nodded as Ector approached, shuffling sideways to let him enter the small, low doorway. Leather hinges creaked as Ector pushed the door open. Arthur and Kai followed him in, ducking under the low lintel. Inside, a fire burned in one corner and its smoke collected in the roof, where it seeped slowly through the thatch. The room was ten paces wide, at its centre was a raised bed draped in warm furs. Two women knelt beside it, their hands clasped together in prayer. They were Igraine’s handmaidens, and Urien’s queen lay beneath the furs, her head propped up on a linen pillow stuffed with duck feathers.
‘My lady,’ said Ector, and he bowed deeply, lower than he had to King Urien. Arthur peered at the queen, but it was hard to see her clearly. A single rushlight lit the room, burning on a table beside the queen, and the three logs burned in the fire to cast shifting shadows across the timber walls. Igraine’s silver hair splayed on the pillow, and from the doorway all Arthur could see was a thin old woman, her breath coming in short, wheezy gasps.
A veiny hand raised slightly on the bed and beckoned them forward, the back of her hand skeletally thin and dotted with yellow spots. Ector stepped forward, and Arthur followed. Kai pushed the door closed and stood at Arthur’s side.
‘This is my son, Kai, and this is my foster son, Arthur.’ The two young men bowed, and the queen made a cracked, croaking sound. Ector smiled at her, and for a moment Arthur thought he saw wetness in brave Ector’s eyes. ‘I first knew Queen Igraine when I was not much older than you are now. She was queen of Kernow, then, before the Great War. Igraine was the most beautiful woman in Britain, and she is a good and kind friend. Men fought wars over her beauty, and I am proud to have known her. Pay your respects.’
Arthur knelt to the queen and made the sign of the cross. He clasped his hands before his chest and whispered a prayer, as did Kai beside him. Arthur said the words, but without conviction. He had seen nothing in the world to convince him that God or Lord Jesus helped anyone in need of their grace. As he prayed, Arthur closed his eyes and thought of the warriors who had died at the Roman villa, or the three raped women and their families, and wondered how the one God or the old gods could allow such cruelty in the world. Why did the gods not simply cast the pagan Saxons back into the sea and keep Britain safe and whole?
The two handmaidens wept as Ector knelt beside the queen and kissed her fragile hand. When their father rose, Arthur and Kai followed him from the room and out into the night. There was a strangeness hanging over the Bear Fort that night, a night filled with druids, kings, queens and quests. Arthur’s head swam with the shock of it all and he stayed quiet, his eyes fixed on Ector’s hard face.
‘Kai, find Huell and prepare for tomorrow’s march,’ Ector said without turning to look at them. ‘Arthur, wait here. I have a different task for you.’
Kai left to find Huell and Arthur pulled his cloak about his shoulders against the night’s chill.
‘Igraine is an old friend and a symbol of a lost time, of the days before Vortigern laid Britain low.’ Ector spoke into the night with his back to Arthur, though he knew the words were meant for him. ‘Her first husband, Gorlois, was a great man. He was the warrior-king of Kernow on our island’s south-west corner, and Igraine was his love. I served Uther of Dumnonia in those days, as you know. The Great War tore us all apart, and eventually I was the one to bring her north to wed Urien after Gorlois died fighting Vortigern and his Saxons. Urien did not treat Igraine well. The first part of her life was all happiness and hope, but since Gorlois’ death, it has been suffering, hardship and sadness. It was not my place to challenge that. Urien is the king and has my oath.’ Ector sighed and shook his head, inclining his head towards his foster son. ‘How I miss those old days, Arthur. Ambrosius, Gorlois, Merlin, Igraine. It feels like a different world, a different time.’
Ector sighed and pulled himself from his melancholy. He set his jaw and turned to Arthur.
‘I want you to sit with the queen for a time, Arthur. I will send her handmaidens away. She needs company, but not the company of weeping maids, and I must return to the feast and spend the night making plans for tomorrow’s march to war.’
‘But spear-father?’ Arthur said, stepping forward, desperate not to be left with the dying old queen. ‘I can help you, or perhaps Kai can sit with the queen. Don’t leave me up here.’ The warriors were feasting, drinking, sharpening blades or preparing supplies for the march, and Arthur was to play maid to an old woman.
