Pendragon

FOUR

Arthur intended to halt the enemy's advance – which our attack accomplished admirably well. One look at the flying hooves and levelled spears hurtling towards them and the Vandali fled.

Pressed between the valley's steep sides, the invading host shrank from the impact. The mass shuddered, surged, and began to move away, effectively trapping the main body of warriors in the rear and keeping them from ever reaching the fight. We did not even unsheathe our swords.

Having so easily succeeded in his aim, Arthur commanded Rhys to signal the lords to break off the charge. This brought cries of outrage from the British kings.

'Why have you called us back?' demanded Gerontius, flinging himself from the saddle. Brastias and Ogryvan galloped to where Arthur, Gwenhwyvar, Bedwyr and I stood together. 'We could have defeated them once and for all!'

'Look!' shouted Brastias, gesturing wildly in the direction of the fast-retreating horde. 'We can catch them still. It is not too late. Resume the attack.'

Meurig joined the group then; Ulfias and Owain were not far behind. Llenlleawg and Cai sat their horses, looking on.

'What has happened?' demanded Owain. 'Why have we broken off the attack?"

'Well you might ask!' cried Brastias. 'Let Arthur explain if he can. It makes no sense to me.'

Owain and Meurig looked to Arthur, who replied, 'This day's fighting is done.'

'Madness,' spat Gerontius.

'Madness?' challenged Bedwyr, his temper flaring instantly.

'We had victory in our grasp and threw it away,' answered Gerontius hotly. 'I call that madness, by God!'

'They were women and children!' Bedwyr replied, his face growing red. 'Oh, a very great victory to slaughter sheep and babes in arms. By all means, trample down the defenceless and count it a triumph!'

'Aghh!' growled Gerontius in frustrated rage. He opened his mouth to renew his protest, but Cai restrained him.

'Enough, Gerontius. Say no more,' advised Cai, 'that way you will have less to regret.'

Brastias put a hand to his friend's arm and made to turn him away, but Gerontius shook off the hand and stabbed his finger in Arthur's face. 'We might have settled it today but for your damnable caution. I am beginning to wonder if it is not cowardice instead.'

'If you value your tongue, stop it flapping,' warned Bedwyr, stepping towards him.

Gerontius glared at Bedwyr, then at Arthur, and stormed off. Brastias went after him, calling him back to make his objections known before all. Though the others said nothing, I could tell they also faulted Arthur's decision. They had supposed an easy victory and saw it snatched away. After an awkward silence, they slowly dispersed, frustrated that the first battle fought on British soil should be cut off without at least punishing the invader for his audacity.

'It was the right thing to do, Bear,' offered Bedwyr, hoping to soothe. Instead, he produced the opposite effect.

'Little you know me, brother, if you imagine I care what a fool like Gerontius thinks,' Arthur replied hotly. 'Or that his words will sway me.' He turned on his heel and ordered Llenlleawg to lead the Dragon Flight in making certain the retreat continued.

When they had gone, Gwenhwyvar and I sat down with Arthur. 'Do they truly believe this war will be won in a day? Or that a single battle will decide it?' he asked, shaking his head. 'Have they fought at my side so long, yet even now can speak of cowardice?'

'It is nothing,' Gwenhwyvar told him. 'Less than nothing. Pay it no mind, my love.'

'They are not with me in this yet,' Arthur said. 'Is it not enough that I must fight Amilcar? Must I carry those faithless lords on my back as well?'

'Was it ever different?' I asked.

Arthur glanced at me, and then allowed himself a slow smile. 'No,' he admitted. 'In truth, nothing has changed. But I thought that taking the High Kingship might have granted me a whit of authority.'

'It only gives them reason to fear you all the more,' Gwenhwyvar said.

'Why should they fear me? Is it Arthur invading their lands? Is it Arthur plundering their treasure and making widows of their women?'

'Let me go to Fergus and Conaire,' Gwenhwyvar urged. 'They will show their loyalty and shame the Britons.'

Arthur gently declined; he rose and said, 'Come, we must make certain the Vandali do not overcome their fright and turn back.'

Remounting our horses, we continued on down the valley, leading the warbands of Britain. The Dragon Flight were already far ahead, the dust from the hooves of their horses rising up to mingle with that of the fleeing enemy. I saw the white pall hanging over the valley and grew suddenly lightheaded.

I entered a waking dream.

It seemed as if I were lifted out of myself- as if my spirit took wings to glide above me. For I felt a rush of movement and looked down to see myself riding beside Arthur; Gwenhwyvar and Cador rode at his right hand, and behind us the warbands in three long columns: a Roman aid, though no one now alive, save me, had ever seen one.

And I recalled the day I gazed out from my Grandfather Elphin's hillfort into the dale to see Magnus Maximus, Dux Britanniarum, leading the Augusta Legion south. I did not know it then, but soon that great general would lead his army across the Narrow Sea to Gaul, never to return. He is remembered now as Macsen Wledig, and has become a fabulous figure: an illustrious British Emperor. But he was Roman through and through; and though he fought well to preserve us from the barbarians, he was no Briton.

How long ago was that? How many years have passed? Great Light, how long must I endure?

I lifted my head and soared higher. When I looked again, I saw the dark stain on the land, the cancer that was the Black Boar's invading host, flowing through the valley. There were so many of them. So very many! It was a migration, an entire civilization on the move.

Above me I saw, beyond the pale blue sky, bright beams of starlight, fixed and frozen in their empty firmament. The stars shone down, shedding their light upon us by day and night, untouched and uninfluenced by the deeds of men. What are men, after all? Frail creatures, frail as the grass that grows green one day and withers the next, blown away on every wind.

God help us, we are mingled starlight and dust, and we know not who we are. We are lost unless we find ourselves in you, Great Light.

Out across the wind-tossed waves I saw Gaul and Armorica, and beyond them the Great Mother of Nations, Rome, once a beacon to all the world. The light had already flickered out in the east; hungry darkness now stretched its claws towards tiny Britain. But I saw Ynys Prydein, the Isle of the Mighty, like a sea-girt rock, solid amidst storm-tossed waves – a many-favoured land, shining like a Beltain blaze in a wilderness of night, alone among her sister nations yet holding the all-devouring darkness at bay. And this by the virtue of a lineage which united the fiery courage of the Celt with the cool dispassion of Roman discipline, distilled into the heart of a single man: Arthur.

Before Arthur there was Aurelius; and before Aurelius, Merlin; and before Merlin, Taliesin. Each day raised up its own champion, and in each and every age the Swift Sure Hand laboured to redeem his creation. Look you! We are not abandoned, nor do we strive with our own strength alone. Call on your Creator, O Man, cling to him, and he will carry you. Honour him, and he will establish guardian spirits round about you. Though you walk through flood and fire, you will not be harmed; your Redeemer will uphold you. Bright armies of angels go before us, surrounding us on every side if we could but see!

Oh, but there were haughty lords among us, proud men who bent the knee willingly to no one. Arthur, embodying all that mortal power could boast, was hard put to unite them – and him they knew. What they would not grant to an earthly king, they would scarce yield to an unseen spirit. No power on earth, or up above, can force the human heart to love where it will not love, or honour where it will not honour.

How long I drifted in this strange flight, I do not know. But when I at last came to myself again, it was twilight and a still, quiet camp lay around me. I awoke to find myself sitting on a calfskin by a fire, a bowl of stew untouched in my hands.

'Hail, Myrddin. We welcome your return,' Arthur said as I stirred. I looked across the fire to see him watching me, concerned by the dazed expression on my face. 'You were surely lost in your thoughts, bard.'

Gwenhwyvar lifted my dish slightly. 'You have not tasted a bite of your food.'

I looked into the bowl cupped in my hands. The dark liquid within became a squirming, seething mass of yellow maggots. I saw human bones, smouldering with inexplicable fire. And I heard again the echo of those mysterious words: We have no choice… burn it down.

I saw again the mound of corpses, bloated and stained a hideous blue-black, piled high and burning, greasy smoke assaulting a dry white sky. The gorge rose in my throat; I gagged and threw the bowl from me.

Gwenhwyvar put her hand on my arm. 'Myrddin!'

Sudden knowledge burst within me; the hateful word formed on my tongue. 'Pestilence,' I answered, choking on the word. 'Even now death is moving like a mist through the land.'

Arthur's jaw was set. 'I will defend Britain. I will do all that may be done to defeat the Vandali.'

He misunderstood my meaning, so I said: 'There is an enemy more powerful than the Boar and his piglets, more dangerous to us all than any invader who has breached these shores.'

Arthur regarded me sharply. 'You speak in riddles, bard. What is this death?'

'It is called the Yellow Death,' I replied.

'Plague!' Gwenhwyvar gasped.

'There has been no word of plague from any of the lords,' said Arthur. 'I will not allow such rumours to be spread amongst men preparing for battle.'

'I have no interest in rumours, O Great King. Even so, there is no doubt in my mind – nor should there be in yours – that the Yellow Death is even now loosed in Britain.'

Arthur accepted the rebuke in my words; staring into my eyes he asked, 'What is the cure?'

'I know no cure,' I told him. 'But it comes to me,' I added on a sudden inspiration, 'that if any remedy exists it may be that the priests at Ynys Avallach know of it. Their experience is wide and their knowledge deep,' I said, and remembered my mother telling me that the monastery was becoming a place of healing. But that had been years ago – would it still be so now?

'Then you must go at once without delay,' said Gwenhwyvar.

I rose from my place.

'Sit down, Myrddin,' Arthur said. 'You cannot go now. It is dark and there are fifty thousand barbarians between you and Ynys Avallach.' He paused, looking up at me in the firelight. 'Besides, I sit in council tonight and I need you here.'

'I cannot stay, Arthur,' I said. 'If anything can be done, I dare not wait. I must go. You know this.'

Still Arthur hesitated. 'One enemy at a time,' he said. 'We only squander our strength if we chase off in all directions. There is no cure for the plague, you said so yourself.'

'I have no wish to defy you,' I said stiffly. 'But you have the Cymbrogi to attend you, and I may be of use elsewhere. This danger has been shown to me, and I cannot ignore it. I will return as soon as possible, but I must go. Now. Tonight.'

'Bear,' Gwenhwyvar implored, 'he is right. Let him go. It may be the saving of many lives.' Arthur's gaze swung from me to her, and she seized on this momentary hesitation. 'Yes, go to them, Wise Emrys,' Gwenhwyvar urged, as if this had been Arthur's plan all along. 'Learn all you can and bring us some good word.'

'I make no promise,' I warned, 'but I will do what may be done. As for rumours, say nothing to anyone about this until I return.'

'So, it is settled,' declared Arthur, though I could tell the decision did not sit well with him. He stood abruptly and cried out for Llenlleawg. 'Myrddin must leave us for a time,' he said. 'Since the valley is swarming with Vandali, I would ask you to accompany him on his journey.'

Llenlleawg inclined his head in assent, his expression impassive in the firelight.

'I thank you,' I told them both. 'But I will travel more swiftly alone.'