Arthur

FIVE

We entered Yrewyn Bay at dusk and came ashore to make camp. The fires were kept low and we posted watchmen in the hills above the bay, lest a rearguard of Irish had been left behind. But the night passed quietly.

At dawn the next day we began the march inland to meet Cai and the Cymbrogi. We had arranged to come together at a place I knew: a ford where the River Glein joins the Yrewyn as it flows down from the mountains into the vale of Yrewyn.

There are no settlements in that region – the people were driven off long ago by the relentless raiding. We formed up in two long columns, after the Roman fashion. Arthur's ala – the mounted warriors – leading, foot soldiers coming after, and. the supply wagons following. Since we had come by ship, we had only four wagons with us, and only a hundred horses – fewer than we would have liked, to be sure. But, as we intended joining Cai in a day or so, we thought we could sustain ourselves at least that long.

It was not until we reached the Glein that we realized our mistake.

'There must be ten thousand down there,' I whispered. Arthur and I sat our horses on the ridge, gazing down into dusk thickening in the Yrewyn vale. We had ridden into the foothills to spy out the land below – and a good thing, too! The numbers of the enemy ranged around the ford appeared as a dark smear spreading along either side of the river. The smoke from their innumerable fires blackened the air. 'I have never seen so many Irish in one place. I did not think there were so many.' The cran tara had indeed gone out, and it had been answered in force.

They are not all Irish,' said Arthur, his eyes narrowed to the distance. 'Look – see how they form two camps, there and there?' He indicated the dark mass on the left. 'The fires are larger and ranged in a great circle. And there – ' he pointed to the other smudge, 'the fires are smaller and scattered; those are the Irish.'

'So who are the others? Saecsen?' Saecsens often built circular camps around a central fire.

'Angli,' answered Arthur.

'Angli- Saecsen? What is the difference? They are barbarians, are they not?'

'Oh yes,' agreed Arthur with a grim laugh, 'they are barbarians. But if they were Saecsen I would know that Aelle and Colgrim had broken the peace.'

'Cold comfort,' I remarked. 'What are we to do now, Bear? They are camped where we are to meet Cai in a day's time.'

'We will ride south a little way to meet him.'

'What are they doing down there?'

'Waiting.'

'I can see that. Why, Exalted Duke, are they waiting, do you suppose?'

Arthur gave his head a slight shake. 'I do not know, and that worries me.'

'Will you offer them peace?'

'Yes. Why fight for peace if it can be achieved without bloodshed?'

'That may be, Artos,' I agreed, 'and I truly pray that it is. But I do not think they are going to down weapons and sail away peacefully. They have come to fight, and I think they mean to have their way.'

'I fear you are right.' Arthur lifted his reins and turned his mount. 'Come, we will go tell Myrddin what we have seen.'

Our own camp was but two valleys to the east of the enemy encampment. Twilight had fallen and the valley was darkening, although the sky still held light in the west. Arthur rode in, calling for the kings to meet him in his tent, and for the cooking fires to be put out at once.

Myrddin met us outside Arthur's tent, and held our horses as we dismounted. 'Well, was it to your liking?'

'You did not tell us there would be so many,' said Arthur lightly. He might have been describing a herd of sheep he had happened to meet.

'How many?' asked Myrddin, cocking his head to one side.

'Ten thousand,' Arthur replied.

'So?' wondered the Emrys.

'I counted them myself,' I assured him. 'Every one.'

Myrddin shook his head slowly. 'It was not to begin this way. This is not how I saw it.'

'It does not matter,' said Arthur. 'This will be to our benefit.' Just then Idris ambled up, and Maglos behind him. 'We will hold council in my tent,' Arthur told them, 'when Bedegran has joined us.'

The two entered the tent and Arthur turned to Rhys, his harper and steward. 'Have food brought to us, and something to drink.'

Inside the tent, the lamps were already lit, casting their thin reddish glow over the rough board that had been set up to serve for his council table. Our cups were there, but empty yet. Idris and Maglos sat across from one another, leaning on their elbows.

'You have seen something, yes?' Idris asked, as I settled on the bench next to him.

'I have seen the vale of Yrewyn,' I told him. 'It is a sight worth seeing.'

He regarded me sceptically for a moment and then shrugged. 'Sooner ask a stone.' He turned away and began talking to Maglos.

I had come to like Idris – at least, I no longer disliked him as much as I once had. He had a good way with his men, whom he treated with all respect. It was unfortunate he had sided with Morcant and Cerdic in the beginning. But I sensed he was deeply sorry for this – which was why he had chosen to ride with us. He was trying to make amends for his lapse by fighting for Arthur every bit as hard as he had fought against him.

He was a strong man, though slender, and wore his hair and moustache long, like the Celts of old. And, although he had never set foot inside a church in his life, he had learned reading and writing from the brothers at the monastery at Eboracum.

Maglos, on the other hand, was nearly as broad as Cai, though not nearly as tall. He sat his horse like a stump. But, like a stump, his roots went deep. Maglos ap Morganwg of the ancient Dumnonii possessed his people's easy confidence – brought by long association with wealth and power – but surprisingly little of their stiff-necked pride. Also, he was seldom to be found in an ill humour.

We had not fought alongside these men before, and I wondered if they would be able to place themselves under Arthur's authority as easily as they had placed their warbands under his command. That we would see.

The tent flap opened and Arthur entered with Gwalcmai, Bedegran and Myrddin. The Duke carried a jar of beer in his hand and began pouring the cups with his own hand, then sat down and began passing the cups to the others. Myrddin did not join us at the council table, but remained standing behind Arthur. Gwalcmai sat down at Arthur's left hand, across from me on his right. Bedegran sat next tome.

Arthur lifted his cup and drank deep. He refilled it and let it stand before him. 'We cannot meet Cai and Meurig at the Glein ford,' he said. 'Yrewyn vale is full of Irish and Angli.'

'Angli?' Gwalcmai lowered his cup in surprise.

They are there,' I told him. 'In numbers.'

'How many?' asked Idris.

'Ten thousand.'

The words hung in the air as those gathered round the board struggled to envisage this number. Arthur let them work on it for a while before he said, 'I will send to them with an offer of peace. We will pray that they accept it.'

'And if they do not?' asked Idris.

'If words of peace do not speak to them, perhaps they will heed British steel.'

The table fell silent, calculating our chances of surviving against such numbers.

'Of course,' continued Arthur, 'Cai would be unhappy to miss such a glorious battle.'

Maglos laughed. 'I can think of a few others who should be sorry to miss such.'

'Therefore, tomorrow you will ride south to wait for Cai and the Cymbrogi. Bedwyr and I will take the willow branch to the Irish and Angli camp.'

I breathed a silent thanks to him for this singular honour.

'What if the enemy moves from the vale?' asked Bedegran.

'We will stop them.'

'We cannot engage them,' insisted Bedegran. 'We are too few.'

'Yet I tell you they will be stopped,' replied Arthur, evenly.

Bedegran opened his mouth to speak again, but thought better of it and took a drink from his cup instead.

Arthur glanced at each of the others, to see if anyone else would challenge him. When no one did, he continued. 'Cai is expected in the next few days. He is following the Roman road up through Caer Lial on the Wall. We will ride south and east to meet him where the road ends.'

'All respect, Duke Arthur,' said Idris, clearing his throat. 'Should we not wait for others to join us? At ten thousand they are more than three to one against us. I know I would fight easier with a few more warriors beside me.'

'My father and brother will soon arrive with the warband of Orcady,' offered Gwalcmai.

'How many? Three hundred?' asked Idris hopefully.

'Fifty – '

'Fifty! Is that all?' sputtered Idris. He turned in appeal to Arthur. 'Fifty – '

'Peace, Idris,' said Maglos. 'You above all men should deem yourself fortunate. With fewer kings to divide the plunder, we all get more."

Idris glared at him. 'Tell me if it is fortunate you feel with ten foemen hanging on your sword arm at every stroke. They will cut us to strop leather.'

'Where is your courage, man?' said Maglos. He lifted his cup and said, 'The battle is before us, there is glory to be won. Bring it on! Hie!' With that, he tossed down his beer, and wiped his sopping moustache on his sleeve.

Tray to God that this battle may be avoided,' said Arthur, rising in dismissal. 'Pray all of you that peace triumph.'

The next day, while the others broke camp, Arthur and I mounted our horses and rode to the enemy encampment.

We paused at the riverside to gather willow branches. I cut the biggest ones I could find, lest there be any mistaking our intentions. Still, I had no great hope that the barbarians would honour them.

Then, crossing over the river, we rode on to meet the enemy. They saw us coming, of course, and we were met by a company of Irish and Angli chieftains. They scowled at us, and jeered, but did not kill us outright, and for that I was grateful.

'I am Arthur, Battlechief of Britain,' Arthur told them. 'I want to talk to your Bretwalda.'

At his use of the barbarian word for war leader, the Angli glanced at one another. Then up spoke one of the barbarians. 'I am Baldulf,' he said, and his speech was not good. 'What do you seek?'

'I seek peace,' replied Arthur, 'which I gladly grant to you.'

Baldulf muttered something to one of his advisers, who muttered back. The Irish, of the tribe called Scoti, frowned mightily but said nothing.

'What are your terms?' asked Baldulf.

'You must leave this land. As you have done no harm here, I will suffer no harm to come to you. But you must go from here at once.'

Again Baldulf conferred with his chieftains. Then, turning with a haughty sneer, he said, 'If we do not go?'

'Then you will all be killed. For I have given my promise to God that there will be peace in this land.'

'Kill us then, if you can,' replied Baldulf bravely. 'Maybe it is you and your god who will die.'

'I have given my pledge to you. Peace will abide In Britain, whether won by word or deed. Today, I give you your lives, tomorrow I will take them. The choice is yours.' So saying, Arthur and I turned our horses and rode back to camp.

Everything was ready to move; they were only awaiting our return. Arthur chose sentries jo watch the enemy camp, and we left the valley and started east to meet Cai.

The sun had risen fair in the sky, but clouds came in from the sea laden with rain, and by midday the ground beneath our feet was soft mud. The wagons became enmired and time and again had to be dragged free. The going was miserable and slow.

This should have been a warning to us.

But the first hint of trouble came when one of the sentries returned on the gallop, his mount lashed to a lather. He flew directly to where Arthur and I rode at the head of the columns. They are moving,' he gasped, out of breath from his wild ride.

Arthur halted. 'Which way?'

'Moving up the valley – to the east… '

For the space of a heartbeat Arthur froze, bringing the image of the valley before his mind. The next instant he was all action.

'Bedwyr!' he called, wheeling his horse. 'Follow me!'

'Arthur! Where are you going?'

'If they leave the valley, we are lost!'

I called after him but he did not hear. A moment later I was flying down the ranks halting the columns and turning them onto our new course. I rode to the end of the columns and shouted at the men tending the wagons. 'Leave the wagons here! Fetch your weapons!'

Bedegran and Idris appeared. 'What is happening?' demanded one. 'Why are we turning?' asked the other.

'The barbarians are moving. Arm your men.'

'We are not going to attack them!' Bedegran gaped at me, as if I had lost my wits.

'I do not see why – ' began Idris.

'Arm your men, and follow!' I shouted, and rode to tell Maglos and Gwalcmai, before racing after Arthur, who was quickly disappearing over the broad hump of the hill. Myrddin was with him.

I caught up with them as they sat looking over the vale of Yrewyn – a good deal east of where we had been the day before. There were no Irish or Angli to be seen.

'It is as I hoped,' Arthur was saying. 'They are slower afoot than we are. We have come in time.'

The vale had narrowed to little more than a glen, and I saw Arthur's plan immediately. If the enemy were moving east along the river, they would come through this pinched-up place where we would be waiting for them. Then their superior numbers would not avail them, for we could not easily be surrounded.

'Do we establish ourselves down there along the river – or wait in the hills?'

'Both,' Arthur said. 'Let the footmen be ready down there. We will hold what horse we have here and here -' he pointed to the steep slopes on either sidejof the river, 'and then sweep down upon them when they try to come around us.'

The Duke turned to Myrddin. 'Will you uphold us?'

Myrddin nodded, his golden eyes dark. 'You have no need to ask. I will uphold you by the power of the Three.' He sat looking at the sky to the east, and across the hills to the south. 'We will be aided by the weather,' he observed. 'With the ending of the rain the mist will rise. If they be long in coming, we will be well hidden near the river.'

It was true. The rain from the west was ending but, behind us to the east, a thick damp fog was already winding along the river; low dark clouds were scudding in from the south and the wind was turning cold.

The first of the horsemen began arriving and I set Idris and Maglos across the valley. Gwalcmai and I held to the near side – fifty horse on either hand. Arthur and Bedegran led the footmen down into the glen and set about hiding them.

Mist or no, in a few moments, when I looked, I could scarcely make them out. Nine hundred men vanished in the glen in the blink of an eye. And with their going an unnatural calm fell upon the narrow valley as the mist rolled in.

Well down behind the crest of the hill, I closed my eyes and prayed to the Saviour God – as I do before a battle. It helps to settle the mind and put courage in the heart.

In a little while, I felt a touch on my arm, and heard Gwalcmai's whisper in my ear. 'They are coming.'

Flat on my belly, my face so close to the ground I could smell the sedge, I crept forward to peer over the crest of the hill. The first of the enemy was entering the narrow valley from the west. They came on unheeding, a straggling mass, moving in thickened clusters which defined their battlelords. The Irish came first, the Angli after, and slowly. The Picti I did not see, and this caused me to wonder.

'They are so careless,' remarked Gwalcmai, his voice filled with contempt at their stupidity.

'But they are so many,' I reminded him.

He smiled, his teeth showing white in the gloom. 'The more glory for us, friend Bedwyr.'

'Listen!'

The blast of a horn echoed in the glen. It was Rhys, with Arthur's hunting horn – the signal to attack. And suddenly there he was, springing up out of the river mist and hurtling into the startled barbarians. All along the river men rose as one. Their shout carried to the hilltops and echoed along the glen.

The barbarian host was thrown into confusion at once. Those leading were forced back into the mass behind. The Britons thrust ahead, following Arthur at a run. He had taken a white horse, so that he could be more easily seen in the murk, and he flew at the enemy like a harrying hawk.

The sight of him driving fearlessly into the churning wall of foemen made Gwalcmai gasp. 'Is he always so daring?' he asked in astonishment.

'It is his way.'

'I have never seen the like of it. Who can match him?'

I laughed. 'No one. He is a bear in battle – a great mad bear. No one matches him for strength or valour.'

Gwalcmai shook his head. 'We heard he was a stout battlechief, but this… ' he fell silent for want of words.

'Beware,' I warned, 'he expects no less of the men who follow him.'

7 will follow him if he will have me,' Gwalcmai vowed solemnly.

I clapped the prince on his shoulder with a gloved hand. 'Well, you are indeed a fortunate man, Gwalcmai ap Lot. For today you have the happy chance to prove yourself worthy.'

So saying, I rose and drew on my war helm. I walked back to the picket, mounted my horse and took up my long spear, then gave the signal to the others who were already mounted and waiting. We advanced to the crest of the hill and poised there, ready to sweep down into the fray.

We did not wait long, for the first ranks of Angli had already seen what Arthur was about and were running up the side of the hill to evade the chaos choking the centre of the glen, hoping to surround the Cymry. As yet, no one had crossed the river to come at him from the other side.

I raised my spear to heaven. 'For God and Britain!' I cried, and my cry was answered in kind. And then I was racing down the hillside, my cloak rippling out behind me, the wind singing from my dark-glinting spearhead.

So heedless were the Angli that they did not see us until we were right on top of them. The first ranks of warriors went down before us like wheat ripe to the scythe. The speed and force of our charge carried us well into their quickly scattering swarm.

We reformed the line and galloped up the hillside, turned, and came sweeping down upon them again. The Angli saw what we intended and fled before us, running, stumbling, rolling, picking themselves up and running again. We drove them before us like so many sheep for the slaughter.

They did not even try to fight.

I reined up and gathered the horsemen to me. 'Let them go! Let them go! We ride now to support Arthur!' I pointed with my spear down the hillside where the main force laboured. The Irish, by dint of numbers alone, had succeeded hi halting Arthur's advance. By cutting in from the side, we could divide the Irish force and keep the Angli penned behind, where they could do nothing.

Oh, Arthur had chosen the battle place well. The land worked for us and against the enemy; their greater numbers were no use to them now.

Setting my spear, I wheeled my horse and charged. I heard a wild war whoop beside me and Gwalcmai galloped past, his face alight with the battle glow. I lashed my horse to match his pace and the ground trembled beneath us. The beat of our steeds' pounding hooves sounded like a throbbing drum.

Down and down we came, plummeting like eagles, swifter than the wind. The terrified Irish heard the terrible din of our coming and threw their round shields before them – as if this could stop the thunder breaking over their heads.

The clash of our meeting sounded like a thousand anvils being struck at once. Steel flashed. Men screamed. The air shuddered with the shock. I thrust with my spear again and again, opening a wide path before me.

Gwalcmai rode at my right hand, matching me thrust for thrust. Together we drove straight into the heart of the battle, where Arthur's white horse reared and plunged. Any who came before us fell – either to our spears or to the swift and deadly hooves of our battle-trained horses.

I will tell you how it is to fight on horseback, shall I?

You feel the enormous surge of power beneath you and the rhythmic roll of the beast's flanks as its legs stretch and gather. The strength of the great creature becomes your strength, rising through you and through the shaft of the spear in your hand. With the enormous weight of the animal behind it, that hardened length of ashwood becomes indestructible; the flared iron leaf of the spear head penetrates anything: wood, leather, bone.

As you begin the charge, the enemy appears as massive and faceless as a wall. As you close, the wall begins to splinter and fall inward upon itself. Then you see individual timbers – men – as they collapse before you. There is a terrible instant when you see their eyes bulge and mouths gape as they go down. And then they are gone and you are free.

The shock of the clash washes over you like a sea wave, swelling, cresting, rolling, and moving on. The sound of the battle is a roar in your ears and a blur before your eyes. You see the glint of metal. You see the point of your spear like a point of light, like a Beltane firebrand, as it thrusts and thrusts.

You smell the thick, salty sweetness of blood.

You are at once greater and more powerful than you can imagine. You expand to fill the whole of this worlds-realm. You are formidable. You are invincible. You are God's own idea of a warrior and his hand is beneath you, upholding you. His peace flows from your heart as from a wellspring.

All these things and more I knew as I hurtled like a flaming star to Arthur's side. The Irish fell before me and many did not rise again.

'Arthur!' I cried, scattering the last of the foe before me as I fought to his side.

'Good work!' he shouted. The press of battle was thicker here and the spear was no help. Arthur's sword was in his hand and I saw his arm rising and falling in deadly rhythm. I shoved my spear into its holder beneath my leg and drew my sword, unslinging my shield at the same time. Then I settled into the grim business at hand.

All around us the Cymry hacked at the foe, who fell back and back before us. They were giving ground and that was good. Oh, but it was slow going. We pushed on, and it was like wading to shore against an putrushing tide.

And then, all at once, the tide changed and we found ourselves being pulled along with it. I looked out across the glen to see what the cause might be and I saw Idris and Maglos sweeping down the hillside to meet an Angli counter-attack from the other side of the river. The attack was crushed before it could begin.

Seeing their hope extinguished so quickly and efficiently, the Irish abandoned the fight.

'They are retreating!' shouted Arthur. 'Follow me!' He raised his sword and his war cry was lost in the shouts of retreating Irish. I saw his white horse leap ahead and we gave chase.

We pursued them all the way back to the ford at the Glein. Here the valley widened and flattened, and here the Angli chose to halt their retreat and give battle once more.

We halted a little distance away to view the battle array, and to catch our breath before attacking. The kings gathered round us to hold council. 'They think to take us here,' observed Arthur.

'And they may just do it,' remarked Idris. 'Look at the length of that line. We cannot equal it – we will be stretched too thin. They can easily surround us.'

I, for one, had had enough of his crabbed lack of faith. 'If this be courage, Idris,' I told him, 'you show it in a most peculiar way.'

Gwalcmai laughed, and Idris subsided, his mouth pressed into a bloodless line.

'We will strike them in the centre, there,' said Arthur, who had been studying the enemy; he pointed to the thickened mass before us. 'The Angli fight like Saecsens, but they are even more afraid of the horses. Therefore, the ala will force them back across the ford and cut the line in two. When this happens the two ends will be drawn in together to fill the void.'

'They will circle and surround us, Duke Arthur.' It was Maglos this time.

'Yes,' replied Arthur coolly, 'and when that happens our footmen will come at them from behind.'

'But we will be trapped,' Bedegran insisted.

'There must be some bait in a trap,' Gwalcmai told him, thus saving me the trouble, 'or the rat will not put his nose in.'

'I do not like it,' sniffed Idris. 'It is needlessly risky.'

I turned on him. They fear the horses! Have you not seen how they flee the sight of them? By the time they close on us, our own warriors will be at their backs and they will be the ones surrounded!'

I turned to find Arthur staring at me. 'What? You think yourself the only one who knows the head of a spear from its butt?' I demanded.

Arthur turned to the others. 'Well? You have heard Bedwyr. He will lead the charge to the centre. Bedegran and I will lead the footmen as before. May God go with us.' And he rode off to join the foot soldiers waiting beside the river.

Idris was right: Arthur's plan was risky. But it made the best possible use of our few horses. By using them to keep the enemy off balance, so to speak, our fewer numbers were not such a disadvantage.

The Angli thought to attack while we were still undecided. And with a tremendous roar they came at us on the run. 'Spears ready!' I called, sheathing the sword and retrieving my spear. I threw the reins forward and my horse lumbered into a trot. The a/a formed up in wings on either side of me.

Gathering pace, the trot became a run and the run a gallop. Gwalcmai's voice rose above the thunder of the hooves, and an instant later we were all waning in that high, eerie war chant of his. I felt the hot blood rising in my veins and the icy calm of the battle frenzy descend over me.

And it was no longer Bedwyr riding headlong towards the onrushing enemy. I was a flame, a burning brand flung into the wind. My heart soared within me with the song of battle.

My movements were immaculate, my thoughts bright and sharp as crystal.

The eyes in my head looked out and noted the battle array before me. We were closing… nearer… nearer…