A moment later Aelle entered the tent once more. He was wet and muddy, and breathing hard. Blood trickled from a vicious-looking scrape on his chest, but he smiled as he settled himself once more on his ox-hide. He gazed at Arthur, and the faintest trace of emotion flickered across his broad features. What it was, I could not tell. Pride? Remorse? Gratitude?
“It will be as you say,” Aelle said at last.
“You will not regret this, Aelle,” said Arthur. “Hold faith with me and I will see that your people suffer no wrong.”
Just then the tent flap opened, and a Saecsen entered with a round shield in his hands. Balanced on the shield were two long horn cups of the kind the barbarians prize. The shield was placed between Arthur and Aelle, and the servant left—only to return a moment later with a haunch of roast meat which he placed beside the cups.
Aelle lifted a cup and handed it to Arthur. “Was Hael!” he said. And, taking up his own cup, he dashed down its contents in a single gulp. Arthur drank and then handed the cup to me. I sipped the sour brew and passed the cup to Cai, who forced down the rest.
Aelle watched this and grunted. Then he took up his knife and attacked the haunch with vigor, ripping off a great chunk of meat which he gave to Arthur. He carved a second hunk for himself and began to eat, tearing at the meat with his teeth.
Arthur ate a few bites and passed the meat to me. I did as Arthur had done and then passed the meat to Cai.
As before, Aelle watched us closely and grunted his approval when we had finished. This was, I understood, some sort of ritual. And now that it was completed, Aelle seemed to soften toward us. He motioned to the cups on the shield, and the servant gathered them and left the tent.
“We have shared meat and drink together,” Aelle said. “I will speak the oath you ask.”
Arthur shook his head. “I ask no oath of you—only say me this: that you will hold to the peace we have spoken between us.”
“I will hold to it,” replied Aelle, “and all my people who are with me.”
“Good,” said Arthur with a smile. “The peace is begun. Let him be damned who breaks it.”
The Saecsen battlechief appeared puzzled at this. He shook his head slowly. “What gage will you have?”
“I ask no gage nor pledge. But I give you my trust that you will do all to keep the peace we have made this day.”
Aelle considered this for a moment, then shook his head. He rose and beckoned us to follow. We stepped outside and saw a young woman standing in the rain, a sodden pelt wrapped around her slender shoulders. This, we were given to know, was the daughter of Aelle’s sister, his nearest kin, and, by Saecsen reckoning, the person he was most beholden to for care and protection.
“She is Behrta,” said Aelle, summoning the maid to him. “I give her to you. If I break the peace I have made this day, you will kill her.”
Arthur shook his head slowly. “By this I know that you value your word. There is no need to give me a hostage.”
But the Saecsen leader remained adamant. “It is not for me, Wealas; it is for my people.” He indicated the host looking on expectantly. “They must know the value I have placed on this peace.”
I understood then what he was saying. The maid was of noble Saecsen blood; she would likely be a queen among her kind one day. By giving her to Arthur, the canny chief was doing what he could to seal the bargain he had made to Arthur.
Arthur turned to Cai. “Bring her with us. Put her on my horse.” Cai stepped forward and took the maid by the arm, but gently, and led her to Arthur’s mount.
“Will you come with me to Octa?” said Arthur, turning back to Aelle. “I seek peace with him as well, under the same terms as I have granted you.”
Aelle gave his assent. “I will come to you tomorrow.”
We climbed onto our horses and turned back upon the path to the river. As we passed from the camp, I saw the naked body of the man Aelle had killed in the short dispute outside the tent. The armring on his right arm marked him for a chieftain. Blood still oozed from the ragged gape in his chest.
Mryddin stood on the far side of the river, watching for our return. When he saw us crest the hill, he dashed forward into the water and ran to meet us as we came to the ford.
Arthur threw himself from the saddle with a whoop and caught Mryddin up in a great hug.
“I have prayed for you every moment until now,” Myrddin told him. Glancing at the maid, he said, “I need not ask how it went with you—I can see you did well.”
“She was Aelle’s idea,” Arthur said. “I did not want a hostage, but he would have it no other way. He said it was for his people to know the value of the peace.”
Myrddin pursed his lips. “Very shrewd. Yes, I see. And if anything happens to her in your care, he will have cause to break faith with you. His sword cuts both ways.”
They turned and made to cross the ford. Halfway across, they began to laugh, and the echoes of their laughter set the valley ringing. Oh, they had planned this very carefully, the two of them.
I watched Arthur and Myrddin, their arms around each other’s shoulders, splashing their way across the river and I felt the same giddy relief wash over me. I laughed out loud. Cai stared at me and then he began laughing, too!
We had done it! We had walked into the lion’s den and returned with his beard in our hands. Had anything like this ever happened before?
More, could it happen again?
3
Aelle and his carles came to our camp at dawn the next morning, and we departed, moving south along the Ouse. We travelled slowly because the Saecsens walked. They do not like horses and fear them. This made the journey tedious to begin with, but it was made more so by Arthur’s decision to stay well away from Londinium.
But the weather cleared and held good for the while. As before, we camped at the ford of a river—the Stur, this time—and waited for Octa to come to us, which he did in exactly the same way as Aelle had done.
Octa came with Colgrim, his kinsman, and we met them at the ford—Aelle with us. This caused some distress on the far side of the Stur where Octa and Colgrim stood with their amassed warbands. I could see them working on it: What did it mean? Had Aelle joined the enemy? Had they conquered him? But where was the British host?
Arthur let them take it in and then, as before, rode to the center of the river and called to them. “Octa! Colgrim! I want to speak to you!”
Colgrim conferred with Octa, who answered, “Why have you come to us like this?” His eyes never left Aelle, who stood with his weapons at his side.
“I have come to make peace with you.”
Colgrim and Octa exchanged a puzzled glance. Again, it was Octa who answered, pointing to Aelle. “Let Aelle go, and we will talk with you.”
“Aelle is free to come and go as he will.” Arthur lifted a hand to the Saecsen leader, who strode forth across the water to join his kinsmen on the other side. The three stood together talking for a moment—with much gesturing and pointing in our direction.
Then Aelle turned and beckoned us to come forward. Arthur dismounted as soon as he set foot on the opposite shore, throwing his reins to Cai. The Saecsens regarded him with keen suspicion—as if this impressive show might somehow suddenly turn into a fatal ambush. Yet, the sight of a British battlechief striding purposefully toward them, alone and unarmed, intrigued them. What was this madman doing?
“I am Arthur,” he told them—just as he had told Aelle. “I am War Leader of Britain, and I have come to offer peace to you and your people.”
Colgrim and Octa stared at him, and then at Aelle. They muttered something to Aelle in the Saecsen tongue. Aelle answered them and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, smiling.
Then, before any of us could think or move, Aelle’s hand darted to his belt and a knife flashed out. Instantly the knife was at Arthur’s throat.
A trap! Arthur was helpless. Colgrim’s hand went likewise to the knife in his belt. Octa hefted up his axe and made to signal the wa
rhost.
But before Octa could cry out—indeed, before Cai or I could lift our hands to lash our horses forward to Arthur’s defense—Aelle took the knife and, turning it, placed the handle in Arthur’s hand. Then he raised the knife which Arthur now held and placed the blade over his own heart.
Naked amazement distorted the faces of the Saecsens. Colgrim and Octa stared as if they had just witnessed a miracle of the highest order. Perhaps they had.
The next thing I knew, the Saecsens were all chattering together at once and they were touching Arthur and pounding him on the back. Apparently, Aelle had accomplished more in that simple act—harrowing though it was—than whole days of coaxing and convincing could have achieved.
“I thought we were orphans,” I muttered to Cai, wiping my brow. Cai only grunted and rolled his eyes.
We did sit down and talk to them then. As before, Colgrim and Octa accepted the peace which Arthur offered and then called for food and drink to be brought, whereupon we ate and drank with them—which is how the Saecsen kind like to show peaceful intentions.
When we had done this, Colgrim rose up and declared—mostly through Octa, who showed some small skill with our tongue—that he would feast the British in honor of the new peace treaty. I could imagine nothing I would enjoy less. Feast with a Saecsen! It could not be done.
Nevertheless, we did it. Arthur insisted, and Myrddin agreed. “We must honor the good that they intend,” Myrddin said. “Sitting next to a Saecsen at the board will not harm you overmuch.”
“All the same,” grumbled Cai ominously, “I am bringing my sword.”
Arthur allowed us our knives, but no swords, lances, or shields. “It would not look right,” he said.
Well, I will say that it was not as bad as I feared…It was a good deal worse.
Think of it! For a start, the Saecsen idea of a feast is simply to heap mounds of badly-cooked meat onto the board and gorge on it until sated, whereupon you are supposed to drink whole butts of their sour beer. And when everyone is falling-down drunk, they begin wrestling with one another. The two biggest among them pair off and all the others gather around and begin shouting at them, urging them on. The point of it seems to be for one to maim the other for life. They grunt and sweat and yell—all for the privilege of throwing one another into the fire.
When this display palls, they all fall exhausted onto the ground and one of their bards—or scops, as they are called—comes and begins raising the most horrible din. The Saecsens beat their fists on the ground in ecstasy over their scop’s small accomplishments. The howling which greets his every word is enough to deafen a stump.
In short, a Saecsen feast is ghastly beyond belief. But they are barbarians, after all.
* * *
I thought that we would return to Caer Melyn. Having achieved a summer’s respite from Saecsen raiding—which is how long I reckoned Arthur’s peace would last—I expected Arthur to inform the small kings and await their replies. God’s truth, I thought all Hell would be loosed upon our heads when the British lords found out what Arthur had done.
Make peace with the Saecsens? The reason he had been made War Duke was so that he could rid us of them. And what does he do? He embraces them at first opportunity, and gives them the land they stole from us.
So, I thought we would go back to Caer Melyn to await the breaking of the storm. But I was wrong. We rode instead for Londinium and boarded a ship bound north for the Orcades. That is, Arthur, Myrddin, and I. Pelleas and Cai took the warband back to Caer Melyn to await Bors’ return.
Since we had days aboard ship, and little else to do, I managed to get out of Arthur exactly what he thought he was doing offering peace to Britain’s enemies.
“We have been at war with the Saecsen, Pict, Scot, and Irish for three hundred years and more. Think of it, Bedwyr! There has never been a generation to know peace on this island,” Arthur said as we stood on deck watching the coastline rise and fall with the waves.
“There has never been a generation to know peace anywhere on this earth, God love you!”
“That may be true,” he allowed, “but that does not mean it is not possible. I believe it can happen. But someone has to make a start.”
“You have made a start, Bear. But do not expect the small kings to shower gifts of gold upon your head. Gifts of steel, perhaps.”
“The killing must stop. If I must endure the hurt, so be it. I will endure it gladly, and more besides—but the fighting must end.” He smiled thoughtfully. “It is no less than our Lord the Christ did for men.”
I shook my head and looked out across the grey-waved sea, listening to the keen of the gulls following our wake. What Arthur said made a certain sense. But I knew Arthur—knew him, Blessed Savior!—and I could not believe he was so innocent, so guileless and trusting about this.
“Do you not believe me?” asked Arthur after a moment.
I took my time answering. “I believe you, Bear. And I pray to God you are right, I swear it. But this is not like you.” I turned to find his clear blue eyes gazing at me, mirth drawing up the corners of his mouth. “You think this is funny? I do not. I tell you it chills me to the marrow.
“Yes, it does! We have given land to our most deadly enemies—something even Vortigern in all his glory never contemplated. Yet, we have done this, and asked for nothing but promises in return. Saecsen promises!” I blurted, and fell silent.
“You think me a fool.” Arthur’s voice was quiet.
“God love you, Arthur, I know you are no fool. That is why this troubles me so. You are not yourself since you returned from Ynys Avallach.”
Arthur did not reply directly, but turned away to study the far horizon, his face as hard as the rock cliffs in the distance.
“What happened to you at Ynys Avallach?” I asked. I did not know if he would tell me, and at first I thought he would not.
But at last he spread his hands toward the distant shore and said, “I saw a vision, Bedwyr. I saw a land alive with light. I saw a land blessed of the Living God where all men lived as kinsmen and brothers. I saw a land—this land, this Britain—at peace under the rule of Justice and Right.
“I saw this, and much else besides. And I vowed to make it true. I have pledged my life to it, Bedwyr. My life is a sacrifice to the Summer Realm, for I am the Lord of Summer.”
What could I say to this? If he saw a vision, he saw a vision. But was this the right way to go about it?
Arthur laughed suddenly. “So maybe I am a fool after all, eh?”
“God’s truth, Bear, I do not know what to think.”
“I will tell you something else, shall I?” He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head back toward the sea cliffs. “The north is very far away from the south, you know.”
“Well I know it. We would not be on this leaky tub if it were otherwise.”
He nodded, his mirth turning waggish. “No one has yet discovered a way to fight the Picts and Angles in the north while the Saecsens raid in the south. Jesu knows that I cannot be in two places at once.”
“Meaning?”
“The war will be fought and won in the north. Our freedom will be won in the north, or lost there.”
He saw by the expression on my face that I thought this unlikely. “You doubt me?” he asked. “Consider this then: every invasion has always come from the north. It is the swiftest way into the heart of Britain. The Romans understood this—just as they discovered that it is impossible to defend.” He flung a hand to the wavering coast. “There are ten thousand bays and coves on this sea—and each one a hiding-place for Sea Wolves. They have only to make landfall and the Picti or their own kind will welcome them.”
“Aelle and Colgrim attacked the south,” I pointed out.
“Did they?”
“You know that they did.”
“Are you like the others? Think, Bedwyr! How were they able to strike so quickly? How were they able to order their attack so?”
I stared blankly back at
him, for I did not know.
“It is too far to come from Saecsland. The sea journey is too difficult—and then to fight at the end of it? It cannot be done. So what did they do? Think, Bedwyr!”
“I am thinking, Artos! What did they do?”
“It is so simple! They made landfall in the north and wintered there. This they were able to do because they had friends waiting for them. They gathered their forces from those who had come before; they amassed ships and weapons and men through the summer. Then, when they were ready they swept down from the north to attack the brittle defenses of the south.” Arthur smiled grimly. “As I said, the swiftest, surest way to the south is through the north.”
Yes, what he said was true. I had not thought of it that way before, but I recognized the truth now that he explained it to me. What is more, this was the Arthur I knew and remembered. I told him so.
“You think because I want peace I have lost the craft of war?” He shook his head slowly. “I have not changed, my friend—not enough anyway.”
“So what are we doing now? What can we accomplish in the north, just the three of us?”
“We are going to hold council with King Lot of Orcady. He is a strong lord, with many ships and a good warband. I would see whether he will support me.”
“Ships? You have horses…now you want ships?”
“I want as many ships as I can get—as many as Lot will give me. Then I mean to build the rest. I want a fleet such as the great Caesar had when he came to the Island of the Mighty.”
“But we cannot fight on ships.”
“Oh yes, we can. And what we do not know of it we will learn. Even if we do not fight with our ships, we must have some way to move horses and men more swiftly than over land. That is too slow, and—”
“I know: the north is very far from the south, and you cannot be two places at once.”
Arthur grinned and slapped me on the back. “Well done! I was beginning to think you slow-witted.” He rose from the railing and stretched. “But all this talk has made me thirsty. Let us have some beer.”