I could still hear Beris and ap Cathvan talking as they led their horses over the grass behind. “Joined the ala to keep my husband in line,” Beris was complaining, for the thousandth time. “Didn’t know it would be like this. Nursemaid Cinon! I heard about what happened with Second Pennon. Please tell me Cinon’s not an idiot like Custennin?”
“Nothing like as bad,” ap Cathvan replied reassuringly. “He knows horses, and hunting. He’s not an armiger, but he knows which end of a spear is which. There’s nothing wrong with him at all. I’ll take you over and introduce you.”
There seemed to be too many people clustered down by the ferry. I squinted, but there were still too many. It looked as if the sunshine had brought half the town out of their beds and down to see us off. Elenn was there, wearing a dark green overdress fastened with gold shoulder pins. She was smiling at Cinon and leaning towards him. She almost always came down to bid us farewell and good luck. She was resting one hand on her hound, a great brindled Isarnagan bitch who came up to Elenn’s shoulder. She would go hunting with the other dogs, though Elenn rarely rode out herself.
Near the queen stood Linwen, and Custennin, and Rowanna, talking to Father Gerthmol. Even Morien was there, standing with Mardol the Crow. Why were so many kings up so early? There were so many people out that one of the more enterprising shopkeepers who sold hot chestnuts and hot spiced cider in the town had brought out his brazier and was doing a good trade.
I made my way through the crowd, being greeted by friends here and there. Angas’s young brother Morthu dodged past me with a shellful of chestnuts, almost bumping into me. He would be joining the ala soon, and I almost spoke to him, but let him go. I caught sight of Masarn buying chestnuts with his wife and children, the youngest standing up precariously, clutching the knee of Masarn’s tunic. I made my way towards them, refusing several offers of chestnuts and cider on the way. As I came up the little one sat down unexpectedly with a bump and Masarn lifted him up in his arms, diverting an incipient howl with a practiced joggle.
“What are you doing out of bed when you don’t have to be?” I asked. His wife smiled shyly at me and straightened the hat on one of the children. She was a quiet little woman and I never knew what to say to her. I smiled politely back at her.
Masarn laughed. “You look as if you didn’t want to get up yourself,” he said. “It looked to be a clear morning, that’s all, and we thought we’d come down and see you off. It’s been raining for a month or more.”
“Yes, it’s the sort of day the Lord of Light sends now and then to remind us that he’s still up there and winter won’t last forever,” Garah said, startling me by coming up behind Starlight. “I came down for exactly the same reason. Not that I don’t have plenty of work to do in the citadel, but I thought a little walk and early light would raise my heart.”
“Oh Masarn, have you heard Garah’s news?” I asked, remembering it.
“I haven’t, but I can guess,” he said. “You and Glyn? That’s wonderful!” They embraced, making the baby squeal, and then she had to hug the other children, too, so they didn’t feel left out. Then, while Masarn was buying her some cider, the little one, up on his father’s shoulder, thrust a chestnut into my mouth. In such circumstances I couldn’t refuse. It wasn’t as hot as it should have been, but it was surprisingly good. I bought a shellful and burned my fingers peeling them. It had been a good season—none of mine were mealy, and all of them were as big as the top of my thumb. They settled my stomach wonderfully. The children fed some of them to Starlight, who ate them one at a time, delicately.
Then Gwigon started loading the ferry. We had said we would start at sunrise, but he had been waiting until everyone was here. It was his pennon and his turn to hunt; I had no intention of interfering with his organization. I just waved to him to let him know I was ready, and he waved me down. I led Starlight down onto the wooden wharf. She balked a little as we neared the side of the boat. She still didn’t like it, though I knew she would lie down when she needed to. Cinon and ap Cathvan were ahead of me, waiting for a groom. Beris was with them, looking downcast.
Then I caught what ap Cathvan was saying. “As bold as a spring stallion, Ayl said outright the other day he’s going to invite over more cousins from Jarnholme. And what’s to say these new ones will keep the Peace even if the ones who are here now do? They’re not to be trusted. There’ll be more and more of them wanting more and more of our land, mark my words.” Cinon’s chin came up in agreement.
I looked around desperately. Ayl wasn’t far away, he was standing with his brother and Lew ap Ross, talking to Elenn. He looked up, he had heard, and he came a few strides closer. He leaned down towards ap Cathvan. I was frozen in place. At least it was ap Cathvan he had heard, and not Cinon, it would be bad if he killed ap Cathvan but not the ruin of the Peace.
“Don’t be concerned about that,” he said, calmly and cheerfully. “The harvest in Aylsfa was good, though I had few enough people left to gather it, after Foreth. There’s no need to worry. You may well be right about the lamentably large number of Jarnsmen prone to treachery, that’s why we’ll stick to cousins and known friends who understand our ways. Those treacherous types are no good for a country. They can’t understand peace and start up quarrels, but it terribly disturbs a king’s drinking time if he has to be forever putting down rebellions and settling quarrels that won’t stay settled. I know what I’m doing, which is bringing in more people who can reap and plow and come to the standard when I call them, that’s all.”
Ap Cathvan and Cinon both gaped up at him, looking embarrassed. I wanted to laugh. I had no idea Ayl could act so well, his tone of reassuring their concern for an allied king was perfect. “I hope—” Cinon began.
That was when the mist lifted and I saw three ships coming up the river towards us. They had the wind in their sails and they had their oars out. They were clearly Jarnish dragon-prowed longships. I gave a shout and looked about for Grugin, my trumpeter. I had seen him earlier. The last of my hangover blew away as I swung up onto Starlight’s back and rode up onto the bank. Three ships, maybe two hundred fighting men, and I had my spear. I didn’t stop to ask what they were doing here, or who they were, or how they’d come up all the way up the river between Cennet and Segantia undetected. I knew the south was stripped of troops. If anyone wanted to attack Caer Tanaga, there had never been a better time. Could they have got here undetected? Could Guthrum or Rowanna have betrayed us? But they were both here, which made it unlikely unless this was a very deep-laid plot. In any case, three ships wasn’t enough. There was an ala in the city, and a pennon right here, we could stop them, unless this was only the advance party. I seemed to be thinking terribly slowly, because I was already signaling Grugin almost before I had realized that the worst problem would be if they didn’t land and fight us but went on upstream past us.
Fortunately, they turned their heads towards land almost at once, relieving me of that worry. The pennon formed up as quickly as they could, complicated by needing to lead some of the horses off the ferry again. By the time they were all off, everyone who had been intending to hunt was mounted. Grugin gave Cinon, Ayl, and his brother Sidrok places in the ranks. Ap Cathvan had already found a place. I was pleased to see them showing such courage, even though none of them but ap Cathvan had the first idea how to fight from horseback. I felt sure we could block their way to the gate for long enough.
The moment I gave the first warning, everyone else started milling around. There was a great deal of noise. Kings and rowers and curious bystanders all crushed together. The chestnut seller’s brazier somehow got overturned in the confusion. Elenn and her hound were standing very still in the middle of all of it. The other dogs were howling and straining at their leads. Masarn’s wife was clutching all three children tightly. As soon as the pennon was ready for battle and I could pay attention to the others, I shouted out to Masarn and Garah to get Elenn back to the walls. I signaled to Garah to take the kings as well if they wou
ld go, and to Masarn to send three pennons out to me as quickly as he could. They had hardly moved when the wind, as the ship turned into it, caught the banners on the lead ship, blowing them out so we could all see them.
On the top mast was Urdo’s gold running horse. On the other mast flew the Walrus of Bereich, and below it the Thorn of Demedia. It was no attack. Urdo had come at last.
I stayed where I was, at the head of the pennon. Someone, I think it was Masarn’s wife, started to laugh with relief. The kings and other people started to straighten themselves up. The dog masters quieted the hounds. Cinon and Ayl dismounted and exchanged a look that almost seemed friendly. Everyone was chattering. Elenn said something to Sidrok, who left the pennon and galloped off towards the city at full speed. Then she moved forward to the edge of the wooden wharf as the first ship glided in. We all watched and waited almost in silence. There were cries on the ship as she came to shore. Someone threw a rope, and Elenn caught it and tied it inexpertly to the mooring post. One of the sailors, a Jarn, leapt up onto the wharf and tied it properly.
Then, while the sailor was fixing a plank for people to climb up more easily, Urdo scrambled up over the side of the wharf and embraced Elenn. He looked well and strong and cheerful. Everyone was smiling in the bright morning sun.
“Welcome home, my lord,” she said.
We all cheered. Everyone, from stern old Penda of Bregheda to Masarn’s youngest, up on his father’s shoulder again, cheered as gladly as Gwigon’s pennon around me. I felt sudden tears in my eyes.
Angas and Ohtar came up the plank to shore, and behind them Angas’s wife Eirann, with another Jarnish woman, very thin and with her head covered. Sidrok came galloping back with Elenn’s welcome cup, almost in time. He had forgotten the wine, and she had to welcome them with the chestnut seller’s cider. It didn’t matter. She moved among them in the sunlight with the cup, and that was enough.
At the feast that night I sat by Angas.
“They’re far from defeated,” he said. “We’re beating them back though. They’ve got a lot of ships, and they keep on bringing reinforcements and supplies from Oriel. Ohtar’s got a great plan to raid them there in the spring and cut their supply lines.”
“You’re getting on all right with Ohtar then?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” Angas agreed cheerfully, around a mouthful of roast boar. “Once we got the business about Bereich sorted out. That’s his daughter we brought down with us, by the way, Alfwin’s wife. Did you see her? Tiny little thing: she can hardly lift an eating dagger, but she’s a great general in her way and a formidable opponent. I’m glad we’re on the same side now anyway.”
“How have you sorted out Bereich?” I asked, shaking my head at the proffered ale jug. I couldn’t drink the way I used to when I was younger.
“Gave it back unconditionally,” Angas said, helping himself to bread. “Handed back as much as I could gather up of the heirlooms and treasures that the ala had collected, too. They were surprisingly good about it. We hadn’t done all that much damage—seems they were amazed we hadn’t been raping all around us and burning everything in sight. Fortunate it was the ala and not some of my home-raised levies who aren’t so polite. Anyway, ever since, Ohtar’s been helping me as much as he can, much better than if I’d asked. Urdo was. absolutely right there, as usual.” He grinned. “Even before Ohtar got up there I had Jarns on my side. You know Teilo’s monastery, founded the year I got married? Well, they work the land with a lot of Jarnish prisoners, the same as at Thansethan. I’d hate to be them, living on Teilo’s charity—porridge in the morning, half a boiled turnip at noon, and as much water as you can drink in the evening to remind you of the goodness of the White God. Sermons and readings with every meal. That’s what she serves to visitors who can leave when they want to, so it’s probably acorn porridge for the poor Jarns.” He laughed and drained his cup.
“So anyway, when the Isarnagans were getting closer, Teilo got the prisoners together and said they could have their freedom if they’d fight to defend the monastery. These Isarnagans really hate the White God, of course; they’d been burning every church they found and killing priests. So the prisoners agreed to this, and asked for weapons. She didn’t have any, so she told them they could have whatever they could find. So out they rushed towards the oncoming Isarnagan army carrying spades and forks and the tools they used in the fields, and two or three of them charging carrying an eating bench”—Angas patted the one we sat on—“like this, and yelling out, in Jarnish, that they were bringing the mercy of the White God. Eirann actually saw that. She’d been in the hills raising troops and she was bringing them down to save Teilo—she says they were hardly needed. By the time our levies got to the battle most of the Isarnagans had run away very fast back westward and those that were left were very dead indeed, and the Jarnsmen helping themselves to proper weapons.”
We laughed together at the thought of it. “What did Eirann do with them?” I asked.
“Recruited them, and they seem to get on all right with our people. Most of them are with Ohtar’s forces now.”
“So you have a lot of foot soldiers?” I asked.
“Yes.” Angas frowned. “Demedia’s mostly hills. It makes it hard to use the alae properly. The Isarnagans won’t stand to face them either. So far the one big battle we had we got them fighting some of our troops and then brought up my ala from the side. That worked. I nearly spitted Atha ap Gren.”
“How did she get away?” I asked.
“One of their little chariots, and people kept getting in the way,” he said. “I didn’t want to get cut off in the press. They kept stabbing horses and hamstringing them. All that works is to get them to stand, charge, re-form, and repeat.”
“Getting them to stand is what I kept thinking about in Derwen,” I agreed. “I was very lucky there.”
Angas looked about and saw Emer and Lew talking to Rowanna a little way away, and shook his head. Eirann was sitting next to her parents not far away. “You were lucky, and I think there’ll be fighting in Demedia for a while yet,” he said, quietly.
“Maybe I’ll come up and help you clear them up,” I said, hopefully, mopping up the last of the juices from my meat with the last of my bread.
“I think Urdo means you to stay here,” Angas said.
I sighed. “Who’s in charge in Demedia now while you’re all down here?” I asked.
“Luth and ap Erbin have their alae and their orders from Urdo,” he replied. “Tanwen ap Gwair, my tribuno, is leading mine. My sister Penarwen is in charge of political decisions, if any are required urgently, with Teilo to advise her. We’re only away for a month, and we had to come.”
The next day Urdo wore the plain gold circlet that was the Crown of Tir Tanagiri. He stood on the Stone of the Kingdom in the Citadel of Caer Tanaga and prayed in the sight of all the kings and all the people, and everyone renewed their coronation oaths to him. He announced that he would be writing a law code. Raul prayed, and Father Gerthmol prayed, and Urdo burned incense and made sacrifice of a lamb on the stone beneath the oak, in the old way. People talked in public and in private, in small groups and large ones. The kings came to understand, whether they liked it or not, that this was peace, and a new thing, and if they had disputes with each other they would bring them to Urdo, not take up arms.
That night there was dancing, and feasting, with wine and all the best food brought out. Everyone was dressed very splendidly, with gold and silver everywhere. There was music, and to end the feast Elenn took the welcome cup and went all round the hall to everyone, pledging them to the Peace, and everyone drank, all round the circle. That was Urdo’s Feast of Peace at Caer Tanaga, a month before midwinter in the thirteenth year of his reign. So was the island united again, forty-eight years after the last Vincan legion left and thirteen hundred and twenty-three years after the city of Vinca was founded.
32
O all ye works of the Lord,
Bless ye the Lord, rise up and pr
aise him forever.
O ye powers of the heavens,
O ye powers of the Earth,
O ye people of the heavens,
O ye people of the Earth,
O ye Sun and ye Moon,
O ye Stars in your courses,
O ye winds and rains,
O ye dews and frosts,
O ye Winds of the World,
O ye fire and heat
O ye ice and snow
O ye nights and days
O ye mountains and ye hills
O ye waters and ye seas
O ye flocks in the fields
O ye beasts in the woods
O ye birds in the trees
O ye fish in the sea
O ye worms and ye creeping things
O ye Green Things upon the Earth,
Bless ye the Lord, rise up and praise him forever.
—Benedicite, as used at Thansethan, early translation.
I was in the baths with Kerys and Morien the next morning when one of Urdo’s messengers brought the message that the High King wanted me immediately. I dried myself and dressed as quickly as I could and ran through the halls. I thought he had orders for me, or wanted to talk about what I’d done in Derwen. He had been surrounded by people since he stepped off the ship, and we had hardly had time to exchange a word. I waved at the clerks in the marble hall and ran up the stairs towards the room Urdo always used at Caer Tanaga.
As I scratched at the door I heard his voice raised, “Unforgivable to assume—come in Sulien!”
I went in. Raul was standing by the window overlooking the courtyard, looking distressed. Urdo was standing by his chair, his hands on the back of it. His table was, as always, piled high with papers and maps and books. He straightened and turned to me. “Hello, Sulien. It’s very good to see you. As I told you in the letter, I’m very pleased with what you did with settling Lew at Dun Morr.”