Warriors of Camlann Read online

  Taliesin looked puzzled. ‘Does he strike you so?’

  Ursula shook her head. ‘No, but I’ve only just met him.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m sure he will be a great hero – that’s what all the stories say.’

  ‘What stories?’ Taliesin’s eyes were sharp and suddenly calculating.

  Dan was getting irritated. ‘Never mind all that. What does it matter? What is the background to this fight – what were they talking about in that room?’

  ‘It matters, Dan, believe me,’ Taliesin said firmly. ‘And Ursula has just given me an idea – why shouldn’t Arturus Urbicus become Arturus Ursus, the bear on the hillside, the saviour of the Island of the Mighty?’

  Taliesin smiled. ‘Arturus must become High King, and then, if you are prepared to help him, it could still all work out to the Combrogi’s advantage.’

  Dan sighed.

  Taliesin continued, ‘All right, Dan, I will give you the background. The Romans occupied much of the “Island of the Mighty” but most of the standing army left three generations ago to fight for Rome nearer to the heart of the Empire. The Aenglisc came to help fight the barbarians in the north, but this is good land and they have not been content to stay where the Combrogi would have them. There was confusion and civil war between Valerius Vortigern, the High King, and Larcius’s father Ambrosius. Ambrosius was more in favour of the Roman ways than Valerius and, in the end, he won. Ambrosius managed to raise an army levy from round here, where the land is most at risk. We’ve won more than we’ve lost but when we have lost, we’ve lost badly. Larcius tried to take on Aesc, the son of Hengest, who was a formidable leader among the Aenglisc. More foolishly, he tried to beat them in their own territory. Hundreds died, most of them young men. Larcius lost so badly he ran away rather than face his father. He fled to Armorica, across the sea, only returning when he heard of his father’s imminent demise. No one knew he was back until you found him, Ursula, and we still don’t know if it was to make his peace with his father or … well, suffice to say it would probably have been better for Arturus’s security if he’d remained in Aenglisc hands. Arturus loves him like a brother, but …’

  ‘But what?’ Ursula demanded.

  ‘But I don’t entirely trust Larcius, he has always been ambitious. There are even rumours that he intended to ally with Rhonwen, though perhaps that cannot be true if she tried to kill him.’

  ‘She did,’ said Ursula fiercely.

  ‘Anyway,’ Taliesin continued, ‘Larcius has always had a personal following and many hoped he would take over as High King when his father died. He’s been away for five years but even so he could sway the vote. Arturus is a good strategist and a great war duke but he’s no charmer of men. Indeed, he has made enemies – compromise does not come easy to him. Men follow Arturus because he wins, not because they love him. Whereas, both men and women,’ he gave Ursula a quick glance, ‘tend to like Larcius.’

  Under Ursula’s antagonistic gaze, Taliesin changed tack.

  ‘The Aenglisc are not all the same – they call themselves different things and come from different places. Anyway, there is always the risk that some of the Combrogi will desert Arturus to join the Aenglisc – if there’s profit in it. Rhonwen has allied herself with the Aenglisc and is highly regarded by both Aesc and Aelle, their Bretwalda leader. Rumour has it they don’t blow their noses without consulting her and they are unifying the various Aenglisc factions so that now they are trying to push us back to the far west and we need to make a stand. We have intelligence that they are planning to take Caer-Baddon, you may know it as Aquae Sulis, a major Combrogi city. It’s not as stupid as it sounds, as they are renowned sailors and can get their war bands to the southwest by sea as well as across the land. Medraut is Count of the Saxon Shore and is afraid if we take our troops from here we will have no one to reinforce the remaining forts. Camulodunum is the last outpost of civilisation. North of here is almost wholly Aenglisc. I’m not sure we can ever get that land back. We stand at a turning point – without strong leadership some of the Combrogi will as ever ally with whoever has the most to offer them. That could be Aelle or Aesc as easily as Arturus. Before we can win we have to make everyone believe we can win so that our allies do not desert us and make failure inevitable. That is the importance of the prophecy – I have made sure that men will fight for the Bear Sark and, indeed, for the Boar Skull. It has been my chief work here. I may now have to change my approach and try to support the idea of Arturus as The Bear. Given time, it could be done.’

  Ursula was thoughtful. ‘I can’t imagine what you are talking about, Taliesin, until I see these places on the map. What do you think, Dan?’

  Dan scowled with concentration. ‘I think Aquae Sulis is the Roman name for Bath, which is in the southwest, isn’t it?’

  Taliesin nodded. ‘We are in the old Trinovantes land, in the southeast of the island. Some people now call it the Kingdom of Caer-Colun, the more common name for Camulodunum. Since Ceint was lost to the Aenglisc, Caer-Colun is all that is left of Medraut’s land. There are good Roman roads between the two cities. We could get to Caer-Baddon to reinforce the Combrogi if Arturus can persuade the rest of them that it is a good idea.’

  ‘Is Arturus not the leader then?’

  ‘He is War Duke – but not yet High King. The War Duke persuades, he cannot command, and tomorrow the Council of Britannia decides who will become High King.’

  ‘The two other men in the council – I did not catch their names – who were they?’

  ‘Gorlois Cerdic, the Dumnonian King and Helvius of the Kingdom of Caer-Baddon, formerly the Belgae lands. They are important leaders with the most to lose if Aquae Sulis, Caer-Baddon is overrun.’

  Dan was concentrating hard, determined to understand. ‘You said you had intelligence – where did it come from?’

  Taliesin looked uncomfortable. ‘I had husbanded all my power to call you when you were caught in the Veil, but Arturus begged me to do one thing for him before I lost all my limited powers of sorcery. I cannot shape-shift as Ursula did but I managed to make part of my mind into a bird, a merlin, and spied on Rhonwen and her allies.’

  ‘Did she not sense the magic?’ Ursula sounded incredulous.

  ‘Rhonwen is not what you were, Ursula, she doesn’t have your gift or your grasp of what magic can do. I don’t think she did know I was there, no. We have heard corroborating reports anyway.’

  ‘Arturus wants to defend Caer-Baddon and you want us to fight for Arturus in this big battle.’ Dan sounded aghast.

  ‘I think Arturus will try and reinforce the old fort at Mons Badonicus, just outside Caer-Baddon, it is in a key strategic position, but yes, I think it will help a great deal if you fought. You are legendary throughout this land. You will give the men heart and hope and victory. For now, you two and you two alone can help keep the tribes united.’

  Dan stared directly at Taliesin. ‘I cannot fight again, Taliesin. I will help in any other way I can, but I do not want to kill again.’

  ‘But they are our enemies, Dan,’ said Ursula, desperate.

  ‘They are not my enemies! You don’t know what it is like! You can talk about enemies, but all I feel is the pain these so-called enemies feel when I hurt them, their fear and their horror of death. These enemies are men and nothing is worth doing that to a man, nothing.’

  Ursula’s face had taken on its most obstinate sullen aspect. ‘Well, from what I can see, what these Aenglisc did to those people yesterday was as barbaric as anything the Ravens did in Alavna. I fought then, and I’ll fight now. You know better than any of us what the refugees have gone through. How can you not want to avenge them?’

  ‘I just can’t, Ursula. You said you understood, but you don’t do you? I will not get involved in this war of Arturus’s. Who is to say which is the right side? What is this prophecy that Taliesin holds so much store by? He thought we fulfilled it and now he thinks he can change Arturus’s name so that he fulfils it. What is that all about? Anyway,
haven’t you guessed yet? These Aenglisc you’re so anxious to kill are probably your own ancestors!’ Dan glared at both Taliesin and Ursula and stormed from the building.

  ‘Let him go!’ said Taliesin gently, resting a restraining hand on Ursula’s arm.

  ‘We each follow our own path. I don’t envy him his – he has chosen the hardest road.’

  Ursula was torn between fury and despair. Dan was alive but he had changed. She so needed him to be her ally and support, in this world as in the last.

  ‘Let’s get out of here!’ she said to Taliesin. ‘Is there some place I can do some training now? I really need to hit something – very hard.’

  It was not magic that surged through her but Boar Skull’s brute energy and her own frustrated fury. If she did not get rid of it soon she could not answer for her actions.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dan ran from the stone church, ran from the strength of Ursula’s disappointment. He could not bear it that she did not understand. He could still feel the waves of other people’s feelings threatening to engulf him. He had never felt so intimately connected with every person he met, nor so alone.

  He hitched up his long robe and lengthened his stride. He had to get away from here. He did not notice the commanding presence of Brother Frontalis and all but ran into him.

  ‘Gawain! What ails you, man?’

  Dan looked up into the frank and kindly gaze of the gladiator-monk. He did not know what to say. He drowned in waves of the monk’s compassion.

  ‘I can’t stay here. Do you know of anywhere I could go?’ Brother Frontalis looked thoughtful. ‘It seems to me, Gawain, that a man of your gifts, if gifts they are and not demons in need of exorcism, needs to spend time in quiet prayer and solitude. I could try exorcism, by the grace of our Lord, the Christos, but I fear that if you have a gift of the spirit it would go ill with any who tried to tamper with it.’

  Dan looked blank, he was not at all sure he knew what Brother Frontalis was talking about.

  ‘I don’t think I’m possessed with demons, Brother Frontalis. Maybe if I could just get some peace, even for a few hours …’ Dan eyed the other man’s right arm suspiciously, ‘without losing consciousness, then, maybe, I could cope.’

  Brother Frontalis guided Dan towards the shelter of the barracks hospital. Dan winced at the horrifying memories of those who lay there.

  ‘Gawain, there is a place where most of my brothers remain to prepare for the coming of the Kingdom of God on Earth. You will be needed here tomorrow for the Council of Britannia but I could guide you to the retreat after that.’

  ‘What do you mean, “I’m needed tomorrow”?’

  ‘The High King is chosen by lengthy debate and each man or woman present at the Council votes. You are a Combrogi hero; it is inconceivable that your opinion will not be sought. You cannot go anywhere before then.’

  Dan looked into Brother Frontalis’s broad face and found it implacable. Dan knew there would be no escape from Camulodunum before then.

  ‘Thank you, Brother Frontalis.’

  Dan turned away from the stables and would have left but there was a sudden flurry of movement as men and women ran from their homes towards the city gate.

  Bedewyr saw Dan and smiled delightedly. ‘It’s King Meirchion Gul of Rheged with his Sarmatian Cataphracts.’

  ‘His what?’

  ‘Cataphracts – his heavy cavalry. Come and see.’

  Now that Dan stopped to listen he could feel the ground tremble from the deep, reverberating rumble of many mounted men. It was a noise at once threatening and exhilarating, more rhythmic than distant thunder. He felt the vibrations through his spine and shivered.

  Ursula stood on the parapet and watched the dust rise like a mist to mask the approach of some five hundred mounted men plus their baggage carts, servants, wives, and camp followers. It was a breathtaking sight, even through the haze of dust. Each man was dressed in a conical helmet and an elbow-length coat of scaled armour. Some shimmered blue-green and seemed to be of horn, others were of red lacquer or the rich brown of rawhide, and some few wore metal armour. Most of the horses were similarly apparelled with bronze or red-lacquered head guards and mail skirts that protected their chests and sides. The men also wore tunics and trews of Celtic brilliance: greens, reds and yellows only dimmed by dust and mud. They carried sheathed swords and light bows across their back as well as the long slender lance, the kontos, favoured by horsemen. As far as Ursula could see many were unusually dark-skinned and dark-eyed, though she spotted some with the light eyes and dark skin that so distinguished Gwynefa. King Meirchion Gul of Rheged, Gwynefa’s father, rode at the head of his troop, a tall, lean-looking man, notable for his elaborate golden helmet and metal armour. Next to him rode standard bearers carrying great red-and-gold dragons – these Sarmatian dracos were an infinitely more impressive version of a wind-sock. The wind blew through the open maw of each dragon so that its long, hollow body was inflated and it undulated like a live creature in the breeze. It was an awe-inspiring sight – the proud stance of the riders carrying their decorated lances, the horses riding three abreast in a column that extended as far back as the eye could see. The sound they made was deafening, not just the pounding of the horses’ hooves against the stone road but the animal snorting, breathing and occasional whickering of five hundred weary horses, the clatter of mail and weapons and the jingle of harnesses. It continued long after the first arrivals were safely stabled in the barracks’ mews or housed in the temporary shelters that had been erected on the parade ground. According to Taliesin these Cataphracts were descendants of the Sarmatians who arrived in Britannia from the far reaches of the Roman Empire. They had intermarried with the local women and a substantial number of them chose to remain when the rest of the troops left Britannia. The armour and the technique of training and breeding the horses had been passed on down the generations and were part of a unique heritage. The Cataphracts of old shared their barracks with their horses and their great grandsons prided themselves on keeping to the same tradition. Ursula, breathing in the overpowering stench of hot, damp horses, was inclined to believe him. She took Taliesin’s advice and returned to the inn to dress herself in heroic splendour before joining Taliesin at Arturus’s villa to greet the leaders of the Cataphracts. She agreed with him that it would be best to make a good impression. She wished she knew where Dan was. She was worried about him and had struggled to see the old Dan in the strained, hooded figure of their last encounter. Her urge to fight something had dissipated suddenly. She felt empty and lonely and too far from home. She was trying to phrase an apology, which was not really an apology – but might persuade Dan to speak to her – when she noticed the extravagantly dressed figure of Larcius hurrying to greet her. Her stomach did that thing again where it seemed to twist and knot her insides to leave her breathless. Larcius was wearing leather scale armour and a fine purple cloak with some kind of fur collar. His dark hair was clean and he smelled fragrantly of spices.

  ‘My dear Lady Ursa, might I escort you to the War Duke’s presence?’

  At a loss for words, Ursula smiled her assent. Her palms felt suddenly hot and the sheepskin fez she was wearing under her helmet caused small beads of perspiration to form on her forehead. Larcius chatted lightly about the Cataphracts and their great skill as horsemen, not unlike Ursula’s own ability. Her leap from her own horse to Gawain’s was now famous.

  ‘You will like King Meirchion Gul – his is very much a Celtic kingdom. He prizes strong women, and Gwynefa is the light of his life.’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘I know everybody. He and my father were allies. After my mother died I often stayed with them in Rheged. I’ve known Gwynefa almost since she was born.’

  ‘She is very beautiful,’ Ursula offered, half expecting one of Larcius’s elaborate compliments for her own beauty to follow.

  ‘Yes. She is,’ he said shortly and changed the subject. ‘You will, of course, be voting at the C
ouncil of Britannia tomorrow?’

  ‘Will I?’

  ‘As a Celtic hero you will surely help choose the new High King at the Council of Britannia tomorrow. Arturus is still here and not mounting campaigns from his castle at Cado as he would prefer it because he is a candidate.’

  ‘I don’t understand – who is the choice between?’

  ‘Well, the main contenders are Meirchion, Medraut, Cerdic and Arturus. But if Arturus marries Gwynefa, King Meirchion will waive his right and back Arturus. Medraut, well, he’s not very popular, and the fact that half his kingdom is in enemy hands doesn’t help his cause. Then Cerdic of Dumnonia, he’s the elder half-brother to Arturus so …’ he shrugged, ‘who knows? Of the others, many are young or too old and don’t have the standing yet, though Agricola of Dyfed shows promise, and then there’s me, the great Ambrosius’s son,’ Larcius said with a sardonic smile.

  A heavily laden horse and cart wobbled in their direction and he placed a protective arm round Ursula’s waist. It made her feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Well, my lady, be sure that even if I were High King you would always be Queen of my grateful heart.’

  Ursula was distracted from his words by a glimpse of a man in dark robes, running from the villa.

  ‘Larcius, thank you for your company, but I need to go. Please give my apologies to the Duke. I will be back soon.’

  She extricated herself from his arm and ran in the direction of the dark-robed figure. It had to be Dan and she had to speak to him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ursula failed to find Dan in spite of her best efforts. He did not return to the inn that night, but when the call came to attend the Council of Britannia he arrived, pale and haunted looking, to take his place in Arturus’s hall. It was an odd meeting. All the furniture had been removed – the Roman-style couches and small tables bearing wine. Everyone sat in a circle on the mosaic floor, like small children at school assembly. Various elaborately dressed people spoke, apparently randomly, about the purpose of kingship and the pride of the people. No one spoke in Latin, which was awkward, as for many it was clearly their native tongue, and Ursula squirmed with embarrassment at the mangling some of those present gave the familiar language of the Combrogi. It was dull beyond description to listen to the endless round of self-congratulatory speeches, and her mind drifted. She watched Larcius and admired his handsome profile. Arturus looked sour and said little, Taliesin looked bored, and Dan looked tortured. She wanted to reach out to him and find his mind, but what could she say? She fidgeted with her sword belt and traced the pattern of the round medallions of Roman designs that were woven into her tunic. It was somewhat worse than double physics on a Friday afternoon.