Arthur

SIX

The ala drove into the thick of it. On the strength of steel alone we pushed a way clear – over the thrashing bodies of the foeman. May God forgive me, my mount's hooves scarce touched the ground!

We reached the ford. The water ran red; the river foam blushed crimson. Corpses floated, their limbs drifting. Caught on the rocks, the dead gazed with profound blindness into the darkening sky.

Once in the water, the going was easier – but only just. The Angli flung themselves at us with the ferocity of wild beasts. Swinging their axes, stabbing with their long knives, bawling, lunging, grappling.

We hewed at them like standing trees and they fell. But always there were more and more.

I strained into the welter, searching for Arthur. All was a chaos of flailing limbs and flashing weapons. I did not see him.

Now we were within range of the Picti arrows – though Idris had succeeded in moving them back somewhat, the wicked missiles still struck with deadly accuracy. The warrior to my left was struck in the shoulder, and one arrow glanced off my shield boss.

Grimly, we laboured on. The leaden sky deepened to the colour of fire-blackened iron. The wind gusted, driving the mist along the river. Rain began pelting down. The ground beneath our feet grew slippery. Blood and water mingled, flowed away. The battle proceeded.

Ever and again I cried out, 'Arthur! Arthur!'

In response I heard only the thunder of the fight, loud and sharp, pierced by hot oaths and agonized cries. And under it, the dull, droning rumble of running feet and horses' hooves…

Horses' hooves. That could not be what I heard, and yet I know the sound as well as my own heartbeat.

I raised my eyes. Out of the mist I saw a herd of horses racing into the valley, their shapes made ghostly by the rain. Swift as diving eagles, they thundered headlong into the midst of the fight.

Could it be? I looked again and saw the reason for this marvel. At the head of the stampede I saw two figures – one obscured by the mist and rain, but the other I knew: no one sits a saddle like Cai.

The enemy saw the horses at the same instant I did. A heartbeat later they were fleeing across the river. By the hundreds and thousands they fled, trampling over one another as they struggled across the ford.

We hacked at them as they fled, but they were no longer resisting. Stupid with fear, they abandoned themselves to our swords without thought.

The horses were careening closer. I saw Gwalcmai leading a phalanx of warriors to turn the stampede. And above the tumult I heard voices strong and brave, lifted in a Cymry battle song. It was the Cymbrogi, driving the horses before them and singing as they came.

The battle was broken. I halted to catch my breath and watched the immense tide of barbarians flowing away across the Glein and into the hills. Some of the Cymbrogi continued the rout, riding them down as they fled, but the enemy escaped by the score. This I regretted, but I did not have it in me to give chase. I was exhausted.

As they did not require my help, I turned again to the task of finding Arthur. The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The mist cleared, and there he was before me.

He was on foot. His horse had been cut from under him, and he had been forced to lead his men on foot. The Bear of Britain saluted me when he saw me, raising his red-streaked sword.

'Hail, Bedwyr!' he called, and promptly sat down on a rock.

I tried to salute him back, but with the weight of the sword in my hand, my arm would no longer move. I slid from the saddle and leaned against my horse. 'God love you, Arthur,' I said, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my glove, 'I thought you were dead. If Cai had not arrived we all would be meat for crows.'

Arthur leaned on his sword, gulping air. 'Yes, and now we shall have to share the plunder with him, I suppose.'

'Share it! He can have it all. It is as much as my life is worth to see him driving those horses.'

Just then Myrddin appeared. 'Here you are.' He examined us closely, and, satisfied that we were alive and well, dismounted and slipped to the ground. 'What did you think of the mist?'

'A most excellent mist,' declared Arthur. 'Forgive me if I do not make more of it.' He made to rise, but could not manage the effort, so settled back on the rock with his elbows on his knees.

I shook my head in disbelief at Myrddin's indifference. 'Do you know we were almost massacred here? Those cursed Picti and their arrows very nearly slaughtered the war host of Britain.'

That is why I thought of the horses,' explained Myrddin placidly. 'The Picti believe horses contain the spirits of the dead and are reluctant to kill them lest they become haunted.'

'Listen to you, our sword brothers lie dead and you wag on about mist and horses!'

Myrddin turned to me. 'Look around you, Bedwyr the Bold. We have not lost a single man.'

Quick anger flashed up in me. I stared at him. 'What! Are you mad?'

'You have but to look,' Myrddin said, throwing wide a hand in invitation.

I turned my eyes to the fallen around us, and… it was true. Lord and Saviour, Blessed Jesu be praised! It was true!

Wherever I looked – the river, the glen, the hillsides, the rocks in the water – the dead were Irish and Angli. Not a single Briton could be found among them.

It was a miracle.

Dark came upon us. By torchlight we worked among the dead, retrieving gold and silver and the special treasure which we had quickly learned to value: the Angli war shirt.

The Angli had learned to make a singular kind of battle-dress. Forged of thousands of tiny steel rings, the shirts protected the wearer yet allowed free movement. Mostly, only Angli kings and nobles wore them, for they were highly prized.

I walked over the battleground, rolling corpses to inspect their limbs and clothing. Sometimes the barbarian carry gold coins or gemstones in their mouths and the jaw must be broken to get them; or they hide them in little leather pouches which have to be pried away. The dead do not mind, I kept telling myself as I cut rings from swollen fingers and stripped battleshirts from stiffening backs.

Searching corpses is a grisly business, but necessary. We sorely needed the plunder and the war shirts. The one to pay for the support of the warband, and to keep men like Idris and Maglos happy. The other for defence against sword cuts and arrows.

The Cymbrogi returned from harrying the enemy. Pelleas and Meurig greeted us with the report that the barbarians appeared to be regrouping and moving north.

'What are we to do about the dead?' asked Maglos. 'We would wear ourselves out digging graves for all of them.'

In the fluttering torchlight Arthur cast an eye to the sky. The clouds were breaking up and in the east the moon was rising fair. 'We will have light soon,' he said. 'Shallow graves would not tire us overmuch.'

Bedegran grumbled; mild Maglos sighed, and Idris snorted. For once I agreed with them. 'You may be able to toil both day and night like Weland's Smithy. But we have fought most of the day, and tomorrow we must pursue the enemy. We are fainting with hunger. We need food and rest.'

It went against him to leave the dead unburied, even enemy dead. But there was nothing for it. 'Let it go, Bear,' I told him. 'There is no dishonour in it.'

Still, he hesitated. Myrddin came forward and put his hand on the Duke's shoulder. 'They are right,' Myrddin said. 'Come, let us leave this place to God and his servants. Let the Cymbrogi go ahead of us and make camp, so that it is ready when we come.'

Arthur consented. 'I yield to your counsel,' he said. 'Give the order, Meurig.' Then he turned and moved off in the darkness.

It was late when we arrived at the camp, a short distance to the east along the river. But there was hot food for us and a dry place to lay our heads. We slept the sleep of Bran the Blessed that night. The next morning we moved north in pursuit of the enemy.

This region is well known to me, for it borders on Rheged, the realm of my fathers. Now that Cai and the Cymbrogi were with us we had horses for four hundred, and we moved much more swiftly, marching back along the Yrewyn the way we had come. At Yrewyn Bay we met King Lot and Gwalchavad, who had come in time to see the Angli passing north in retreat, and had stayed to guard die ships lest they be tempted to steal or destroy them in their flight.

They took no notice of the ships,' Lot told us upon joining us on the strand, 'but hastened themselves north.'

'It is as we thought,' remarked Cai. 'But in the dark we could not be sure.'

They are following the glen of Garnoch,' said Gwalchavad. 'We may yet catch them if we hurry.'

I had to look at him twice to be certain it was not Gwalcmai dressed in different clothing. Lot's sons were twins, each no more different from the other than a man and his reflection. Gwalchavad – his name means Hawk of Summer – seemed to me more cautious, or more deliberate than his brother. But that is the only difference I ever noticed between them.

'I would have you stay with the ships,' Arthur told Lot. They will try to reach the shore.'

'Let us move the ships, then,' advised Gwalchavad.

'Can you move so many?' wondered Arthur. For there were more than fifty ships in all now, not counting the Irish ships we had taken.

Lot laughed. 'You have much to learn of ships, Duke Arthur. Yes, we can move them with no more than the men I have with me.'

Then take them to the shipyards at Caer Edyn,' Arthur ordered. 'We will come to you there when this is finished.'

With no more parley than that, we turned at once to the north-branching Garnoch, and followed Garnoch Glen in the direction the barbarians had fled. The trail was easy – a blind man could have followed it. All the way I kept pondering why they had turned north. Why not take the ships and flee?

The only reason I could think of was that they did not consider themselves conquered, merely discouraged. In this, I was not far wrong. We had surprised them the first time. They had been waiting – I remembered talking to Arthur about this, and he said it had worried him. Now it worried me. What had they been waiting for?

Two days later, when we came to the great River Clyd, I looked out across the plain towards Caer Alclyd and I knew the answer.

The Clyd valley forms a passage which cuts the northern wilderness east to west from Caer Alclyd at the Clyd estuary all the way to Caer Edyn. This vale also separates the hills of the south from the mountains of the north at the island's narrowest place. Anyone wishing to pass from one side of Britain to the other quickly must travel the Clyd valley.

Or, put another way: control the Clyd valley, and the whole of the north is yours. It is that simple. The barbarians knew this and they had been waiting for the spring flood at the Aberclydd to ebb so that they could lay siege to Caer Alclyd, the ancient fortress that guards the entrance to the passage to the east – as Caer Edyn guards it to the west.

We had forced them to act sooner than they might have done, that is all. They had not given up, and had no intention of leaving. Our appearance had not caused them to abandon their plan. What is more, gazing upon them as they were ranged about the caer, it became apparent that they had been joined by other hosts. Perhaps Angli had been hiding in glens and valleys all through the region, waiting to come together at this time and place.

Well, our numbers had increased, too. With Lot and his fifty, the Cymbrogi, and… I was struck by a sudden thought. 'Arthur – ' I said, turning suddenly to Arthur on my left, 'who is that in Caer Alclyd?'

'Do you not recognize the banner above the rampart?'

I squinted to gaze at the distant rock with its fortress on top. There was indeed a long banner hanging from a spearshaft fixed to the wall. It swung and fluttered in the wind, and I caught a glimpse of gold and blue. 'Bors?'

'None other.'

'Bors! What is he doing here?'

Arthur only shrugged. 'That we will have to ask him when we see him face to face. But it appears we must first clear these barbarians away from his gate so that we can talk.'

He made it sound as if it were but a moment's chore. God's truth, it was but the beginning of a work that would last the rest of the summer.

We met the enemy three times and three times defeated them. But they were determined, for they knew the importance of the fortress: whoever held it commanded the western half of the valley.

The first battle liberated Bors at Caer Alclyd. He had arrived from Benowyc only a day or two after Arthur had sailed north from Caer Melyn. So he had followed with his ships, thinking to meet us at the Clyd estuary. Upon coming into the river, however, he encountered the Angli host and had quickly sought refuge in the old fortress. The enemy then laid siege to it, and there the matter stayed.

This is how we found them: arrayed on the plain of the river, their camps ringing the great stronghold, or dun, as it is called in that region. Arthur gave orders for the glen to be blocked, and sent swift messengers south to Custennin in Celyddon, and to the lords of Rheged, bidding all to attend him. We settled down to wait until the British lords should arrive.

The lords of Rheged, my father included, joined us as soon as word came to them that Arthur was fighting in the region. Lord Ectorius, Cai's father, joined us from Caer Edyn. Custennin of Celyddon came with a warband of two hundred.

As soon as these last arrived, Arthur gathered the Cymbrogi together and led us in a prayer of victory. Myrddin held his hands above us in blessing, whereupon we pulled on our battle dress and mounted our horses. Then, taking our places at the head of the massed warbands, we left the glen and rode out onto the plain.

The charge was masterfully made. Long had Arthur observed the enemy encampment from our vantage of the glen. He knew how the battle lines would form, he knew – even before the barbarians knew it themselves – how they would respond to the charge. He knew it in his blood and in his bones.

Thus was that first battle short and sharp. Baldulf was beaten before he could mount a defence. Our a/a simply ran through them, and not once only: time and time again, charge upon charge. Great was the carnage, great the slaughter.

The flat plain was death to them. They could not stand against us. The siege broken, Bors swooped down from the rock fortress with his warband, sweeping all before him into the Clyd where many were drowned.

Seeing that his warriors could not fight us, Baldulf ordered the retreat, thinking to flee south to his ships. But Arthur had foreseen this, and our own footmen sealed the glen. In desperation the Angli and their minions fled to the north.

The barbarians were retreating to the forests of the lake region above the River Clyd, there to lose themselves in the dense and hidden pathways of those dark hills. Arthur called us to him while still on the battlefield.

'Cai, Bedwyr, Pelleas, Bors – assemble warbands and divide them among you. We will give chase.'

Idris and the other kings joined us, and up they spoke. 'Those forests are dangerous. The enemy can ambush us in there; they will lie in wait,' Idris complained.

Bedegran echoed his concern. 'Horses cannot manoeuvre in such thick woods. We would only do ourselves harm.'

Arthur could not quite hide his contempt. 'Since you fear, you will not be asked to undertake such dangerous duty. I have something else in mind for you.'

They did not like the way he scorned them, but it was their own fault. 'What is it that you require of us?' asked Maglos.

'You are to accompany Lord Ectorius and Myrddin back to Caer Edyn. I would have the shipyards protected and restored.'

'We are to become seamen?' sneered Idris. He thought it beneath him.

'Before this land is free, all my chieftains will be sailors. We will all fight as readily on the deck of a ship as from the back of a horse.' So saying, Arthur dismissed them to return with Myrddin and Ector, and we began the long and difficult task of running the barbarians to ground.

Idris and Bedegran had not overstated the danger, but had belittled the need. It had to be done: every barbarian who succeeded in eluding us would return to slay and burn again. They spurned Arthur's offer of peace, and had chosen the blade instead. Therefore we harried them mercilessly, allowing them neither rest nor respite. We pushed deeper and deeper into the wild hills driving the barbarians before us.

The hills north of the vale of Clyd are steep-sided and close set. The lakes are narrow, long, deep and cold: black-water realms ruled by keening eagles. Into these desolate hills we followed the enemy, pushing them further and further each day. And many days passed.

After many more days, we came to a place where a vast hump of land rises between two long lakes. The one is open to the sea and has no name; the other is called Lomond. A river called Dubglas joins them, running through a deep defile. And it was on this river that the barbarians chose to rally.

In this Baldulf showed wisdom. The cleft of the river was narrow, preventing a charge by the horses. And it sloped sharply up, giving the enemy the high ground they covet – if they cannot find a ford, a hill is best. And here they stood.

We attacked from below and the barbarians rushed down upon us. We fell back – as if overcome by their strength. Baldulf, eager to avenge himself for his defeats, pursued us. I still remember the gleam of their weapons in the hard sunlight as they plunged headlong down the scree-filled defile, screaming in triumphant rage. Those inhuman cries woke the stillness of the forest and made it quake. Down they rushed, with but one thought: to crush us utterly.

That was their mistake.

Arthur had held the second division in abeyance until Baldulf should commit himself. As the barbarians fell upon us, the hunting horn sounded and Pelleas, Cai, and Bors appeared up in the pass behind Baldulf. They had come round the hill and worked up the river pass from the opposite side.

Now Baldulf was trapped between two forces, and the larger of them held the high ground. Oh, the speed with which those cries turned to wails of anguish as the barbarians realized what had happened!

If at first they fought for revenge, now they fought for their lives. The battle was fierce, the fighting bitter and hot. With my spear I drove into the clash. My shield rattled with the blows rained upon it. My arm ached. But I struck and struck again, deadly, each stroke a killing stroke. The enemy fell before me.

The glens round about echoed with the clash of steel on steel, and the cries of the wounded and dying. With the larger force bearing down upon the barbarians from above, we gave ground below, coming at last to stand on the grassy banks of the lake.

This opened a way for Baldulf, but there was no place to run. Behind and on either hand stood Arthur's war host, and before him the deep waters of Lake Lomond, shining like polished silver. I do not know what I would have done in his place, but Baldulf fled into the lake. The lake!

It is not as foolish as it sounds. For there are a score or more islands in the Lomond waters. Some of these are mere rocks, fit only for gulls; others support huge stands of trees, and men might hide there. And by running from island to island they might cross the deep water and escape to the far side, which in some places is no great distance at all.

Cai came red-faced at a run. They are getting away. Do you want us to go after them?'

We stood on the shore and watched the enemy floundering across the water. Arthur did not reply.

'Please, Artos, let us finish it here, or we will be fighting all summer.'

Cai was right, of course. But in his excitement he had not thought it out.

'What would you do?' I asked him. 'Swim after them?'

'They are escaping!' he complained, thrusting his sword at the lake.

Arthur turned to Cai. Take the Cymbrogi and ride the south track round the lake to the other side. Kill any who will not surrender.'

Cai saluted and hurried off to do as he was bid. Turning to me, the Duke said, 'Mount the rest of the warband and follow me.'

'Arthur, no!' I called after him. For I had guessed what he had in mind. 'It cannot be done.'

He stopped and turned round. 'Has anyone ever tried?'

'Well, no – I do not think so. But – '

Then how do you know? An angel told you, perhaps?'

'Do not talk to me of angels, Arthur. God love you, I am in earnest!'

'I am in earnest, too, Bedwyr. I mean to end this battle without further loss of life. I can do that and no one even need get wet. I call that a victory.' He turned away again and called for Rhys to signal the formation. We mounted up at once and rode south, following Cai.

At intervals of a hundred paces Arthur placed one horseman, and one footman every fifty paces between them. In this way he surrounded the whole southern half of Lake Lomond. Upon reaching the eastern shore we met Cai riding back along die lakeside.

'Did anyone come across?' asked Arthur.

'Only a few. Most drowned. They would not surrender, so they were put to the sword. The rest have taken refuge on the islands. I will continue south, lest they slip away from us.'

There is no need,' Arthur replied.

'But they can swim across while we sit here talking. Once in the forest we will never find them again.'

There is no need,' I explained, 'because Artos here has surrounded the lake.'

'Surrounded the lake!' exclaimed the red-haired firebrand. 'Am I hearing you aright?'

'You are,' I assured him sourly. I did not much esteem the idea of surrounding large bodies of water.

Cai sputtered for a moment, but could think of no suitable reply. In the end he sighed – a noise like a hornful of beer poured onto a bed of hot embers. 'Well, what are we to do now?'

'Wait,' said Arthur. 'Only wait.'

'We could wait here all summer!' Cai complained. His temper, bless him, was never far from the surface. Those islands have game and birds on them. There is water to drink. They could feed themselves for months!'

'Then we will wait months,' Arthur said firmly. 'We will wait until snow rises to our chins before I let another of my men be killed rooting out Baldulf.'

There could be no moving him when he got like that. So I let be. On the eastern bank of Lake Lomond we made camp and pitched our tents in among the tall pines and burly oaks.

Waiting for someone to starve to death is a tedious business. I do not advise it.

The expense in patience alone is staggering, and it is a cost that must be weighed carefully. I have never liked sieges for the same reason. Better a battle sharp and quick – a spear thrust to the ribs, the swift chop of a sword – than a lingering death and slow.

Twice a day riders took food to the groups of watchers ranged about the lake; this task alone proved most formidable – the food must be prepared, loaded onto a wagon, and delivered to the sentries. Every other day the sentries were relieved and other warriors took their places, for it was an onerous duty.

For the rest, we occupied ourselves as best we could. We hunted in the forests and fished the lake. The warriors wrestled and disported with one another in various games of skill and chance. And, above all, we watched.

Now and then we would catch a glimpse of the enemy on one of the islands. Usually this was at dusk or early in the morning. Mostly they stayed out of our sight – though once at the end of a long, rainy day there arose a cry from the islands and the barbarians came down to the water's edge to jeer at us and rouse us to come and fight them.

Cai was all for it, but Arthur would not. We watched them, and as night came on the calls died away. All through the night there were renewed cries, and we saw torches and fires burning on the islands. But these too died away in time, and night closed around all.

One morning I saw Pelleas sitting on a rock at the water's edge, gazing at the largest island before us. 'It is a poor way to die,' he said, as I sat down beside him.

'They do not have to die at all,' I pointed out. They can surrender. All they have to do is swear peace and Arthur will let them go free.'

'It is hard for men who hold no truth among themselves to believe anyone else will hold to it,' Pelleas said.

'Is it harder than death?'

That we will see, Bedwyr ap Bleddyn,' he said thoughtfully.

Many more days passed. I knew we were coming to the end of it, however, one night when, a little after midnight, we heard splashes in the water and the next morning found bodies floating near the shore. Whether they had been killed by their own hand, died at the hands of their own people, or had drowned trying to escape, we could not tell. But it served to warn us that the end was nigh.

Arthur gave orders for the bodies to be fished from the lake and buried in the forest. Then he got into a boat and paddled out into the lake a short way. He stood in the boat and called to Baldulf.

'Bretwaldal Listen to me! I know you are starving. I know that you have no more food. Listen! You do not have to die. Swear peace to me and you will go free from this place. Peace, Bretwaldal'

Baldulf emerged from the foremost island. He waded out into the water to stare balefully at Arthur, and others crept out behind him. 'You mean to kill us! We defy you to the death!' His words spoke boldly, but his shoulders sloped and he stood as one who dares not hold his head erect. He was a beaten man.

'Why speak of death, Bretzoalda, when you can live? Swear peace to me and go free.'

Baldulf was still standing in the water, trying to decide what to do when some of the men behind him threw themselves into the lake and began swimming to Arthur's boat. Others came towards where we stood on the shore. None of them had weapons.

When they reached the shore they lay on the rocks, gasping, exhausted, unable to rise even to drag themselves from the water, let alone raise blade against us. Their strength was gone.

Those standing behind Baldulf saw Arthur pulling their sword-brothers from the water and giving them places in his boat. They saw us hauling their companions from the lake rather than dashing out their brains with the butts of our spears. They saw that we did not kill them, and when they saw this all hesitation ceased; they flung themselves into the lake and swam to join their kinsmen on the shore. Thus, whether Baldulf would or no, the siege of Lake Lomond was finished.

We were most of the day gathering them up. Once the trickle started, the flood came from all directions. Of those who had followed Baldulf, only three thousand were left, mostly Angli. There were few Irish, and no Picti. The Picti, I believe, had succeeded in escaping into the forests and had not stayed to fight as the Angli did.

Baldulf was the last to come ashore, but he came in Arthur's boat. And he came with his proud head held high – as if he were the conqueror. Arthur helped him from the boat with his own hand.

Oh, but it is a strange sight, I tell you. To see blood-sworn enemies standing together as if never a harsh utterance had passed between them, as if the grim battles were but a grievance, as if good men and brave did not sleep in turf houses in ground hallowed by their own blood… as if war were only a word.

But Baldulf stood beside Arthur as if he had done nothing wrong. And it is the measure of Arthur's mercy that he offered his enemy the life his enemy would have denied him. Baldulf would not have hesitated a heartbeat in plunging the sword through Arthur's throat, and everyone knew it.

Arthur showed true nobility of spirit as he faced Baldulf and made peace between them. His terms were simple: leave Britain and never again come here to raid. When this was agreed to, Arthur ordered the barbarians to be fed and allowed to rest.

We stayed by Lomond lake two more days and then began the long march back south to the Clyd, and from there to Caer Edyn and the shipyards on the Fiorth where the Angli ships had been gathered.

In all it was a long, slow march, but we came to Caer Edyn in due time and put the Angli into the ships, charging them once again never to return to the Island of the Mighty on pain of death. We stood on the strand, watching the sails until they disappeared beyond the swells.

'It is over,' I told Arthur. Great was my relief to see the barbarian ships vanish from my sight.

'Pray God the peace holds,' Arthur replied, then turned to the warriors gathered there with us. He made to speak a word to them, but the Cymbrogi began cheering him and the cries of acclaim drowned out his voice. The cheering turned quickly to singing and Arthur was lifted up on the shoulders of his men.

In this way we entered Ector's fortress: our voices ringing in bold song, Arthur lifted high above us at our head, his fair hair shining in the sun, the gold of his tore ablaze at his throat and his sword, Caledvwlch, thrust towards heaven.