Legacy: Arthurian Saga

  I was taller than he, by two fingers' breadth. I had outfaced kings before, and he was very young. I gave it just long enough, then said, gently: "I am your servant, Arthur, but I serve the god first. Do not make me choose. I have to let him work the way he wills."

  He held my eyes a moment longer, then drew a long breath, and released it as if it had been a weight he was holding. "To do this? To destroy, perhaps, the very kingdom you said he had sent me to build?"

  "If he sent you to build it, then it will be built. Arthur, I don't pretend to understand this. I can only tell you to trust the time, as I do, and wait. Now, do as you did before, put it aside and try to forget it. Leave it with me."

  "What will you do?"

  "Go north."

  A moment of quickening stillness, then he said: "To Lothian? But you said you would not go."

  "No. I said I would do nothing about killing the child. But I can watch Morgause, and perhaps, in time, judge better what we must do. I will send to tell you what happens."

  There was another silence. Then the tension went out of him, and he turned away, beginning to loosen the clasp of his belt. "Very well." He started to ask some question, then bit it back and smiled at me. Having shown the whip, he was now concerned, it seemed, to retreat on the old trust and affection. "But you will stay for the rest of the feasting: If the wars allow, I have to stay here myself for eight days before I can take horse again."

  "No. I think I must be gone. Better perhaps while Lot is still here with you. That way I can melt into the countryside before ever he gets home, and watch and wait, and take what action I can. With your leave, I'll go tomorrow morning."

  "Who goes with you?"

  "Nobody. I can travel alone."

  "You must take someone. It's not like riding home to Maridunum. Besides, you may need a messenger."

  "I'll use your couriers."

  "All the same..." He had got the belt undone. He threw it over a chair. "Ulfin!" A sound from the next room, then discreet footsteps. Ulfin, carrying a long bedgown over one arm, came in from the bedchamber, stifling a yawn. "My lord?"

  "Have you been in there all the while?" I asked sharply.

  Ulfin, wooden-faced, reached to undo the clasps at the King's shoulder. He held the long outer robe as the King stepped out of it. "I was asleep, my lord." Arthur sat down and thrust out a foot. Ulfin knelt to ease the shoe from it. "Ulfin, my cousin Prince Merlin goes north tomorrow, on what may prove a long and hard journey. I shall dislike losing you, but I want you to go with him."

  Ulfin, shoe in hand, looked up at me and smiled. "Willingly."

  "Should you not stay with the King?" I protested. "This week of all weeks --"

  "I do as he tells me," said Ulfin simply, and stooped to the other foot.

  As you do, in the end. Arthur did not say the words aloud, but they were there in the quick glance he gave me as he stood again for Ulfin to gird the bedgown round him.

  I gave up. "Very well. I shall be glad to have you. We leave tomorrow, and I should warn you that we may be away for some considerable time." I gave him what instructions I could, then turned back to Arthur. "Now, I had better go. I doubt if I shall see you before I set off. I'll send you word as soon as I can. No doubt I shall know where you are."

  "No doubt." He sounded all at once grim, very much the war-leader. "Can you spare a moment or two more? Thank you, Ulfin, leave us now. You'll have your own preparations to make...Merlin, come and see my new toy."

  "Another?"

  "Another? Oh, you're thinking about the cavalry. Have you seen the horses Bedwyr brought?"

  "Not yet. Valerius told me about them."

  His eyes kindled. "They are splendid! Fast, fiery, and gentle. I am told they can live on hard rations if they have to, and that their hearts are so high that they will gallop all day, and then fight with you to the death. Bedwyr brought grooms with them. If everything they say is true, then surely we shall have a cavalry force to conquer the world! There are two trained stallions, white ones, that are real beauties, even finer than my Canrith. Bedwyr chose them especially for me. Over here..." As he spoke he led the way across the room toward a pillared archway closed by a curtain. "I haven't had time to try them yet, but surely I can throw off my chains for an hour or two tomorrow?"

  His voice was that of a restive boy. I laughed. "I hope so. I am more fortunate than the King: I shall be on my way."

  "On your old black gelding, no doubt."

  "Not even that. A mule."

  "A mule? Ah, of course. You go disguised?"

  "I must. I can hardly ride into Lothian's stronghold as Prince Merlin."

  "Well, take care. You're certain you don't want an escort, at least for the first part of the way?"

  "Certain. I shall be safe. What's this you are going to show me?"

  "Only a map. Here."

  He pulled the curtain back. Beyond it was a kind of anteroom, little more than a broad portico giving on a small private courtyard. Torchlight winked on the spears of the guards on duty there, but otherwise the place was empty, bare even of furniture except for a huge table, rough-adzed out of oak. It was a map table, but instead of the usual sandtray it held, I saw, a map made of clay, with mountains and valleys, coasts and rivers, modeled by some clever sculptor, so that there, plain to see, lay the land of Britain as a high-flying bird might view it from the heavens.

  Arthur was plainly delighted at my praise. "I knew you would be interested! They only finished setting it up yesterday. Splendid, isn't it? Do you remember teaching me to make maps in the dust? This is better than scraping the sand into hills and valleys that change when you breathe on them. Of course, it can still be remodeled as we find out more. North of Strathclyde is anybody's guess...but then, by God's mercy, nothing north of Strathclyde need concern me. Not yet, anyway." He fingered a peg, carved and colored like a red dragon, that stood over "Caerleon."

  "Now, which way do you plan to go tomorrow?"

  "I thought, by the west road through Deva and Bremet. I have a call to make at Vindolanda."

  His finger followed the route northward till it reached Bremetennacum (which is commonly spoken of now as Bremet), and paused. "Will you do something for me?"

  "Willingly."

  "Go by the east. It's not so much farther, and the road is better for most of the way. Here, see? If you turn off at Bremet, you'll take this road through the mountain gap." His finger traced it out: east from Bremetennacum, up the old road following the Tribuit River, then over the pass and down through Olicana into the Vale of York. There Dere Street runs, a good, fast highway still, up through Corstopitum and the Wall and thence still north, right into Manau Guotodin, where lies Lot's capital of Dunpeldyr.

  "You'll have to retrace your steps for Vindolanda," said Arthur, "but not far. You'll lose nothing in time, I believe. It's the road through the Pennine Gap that I want you to take. I've never been that way myself. I've had reports that it's quite feasible -- you should have no difficulty, just the two of you -- but it's too broken in places for a troop of cavalry. I shall be sending parties up to repair it. I shall have to fortify it, too...you agree? With parts of the eastern seaboard so open to the enemy, if they should get a grip on the easterly plains this will be their way into our British heartland in the west. There are two forts there already; I am told they could be made good. I want you to look at them for me. Don't take time over it; I can get detailed reports from the surveyors; but if you can go that way, I would like to have your thoughts about it."

  "You shall have them."

  As he straightened from the map, a cock crowed outside somewhere. The courtyard was grey. He said quietly: "For the other matter we spoke of, I am in your hands. God knows I should be thankful to be so." He smiled. "Now we had better get to our beds. You have a journey to face, and I another day of pleasure. I envy you! Good night, and God go with you."

  8

  Next day, furnished with food for two days' journey, and three good mules from one of th
e baggage trains, Ulfin and I set off on the journey northward.

  I had made journeys before in circumstances as dangerous as this, when to be recognized would be to court disaster, or even death. I had, perforce, become adept at disguise; this had given rise to yet another legend about "the enchanter," that he could vanish at will into thin air to escape his enemies. I had certainly perfected the art of melting into a landscape: what I did in fact was assume the tools of some trade, and then frequent places where no one would expect a prince to be. Men's eyes are focused on what, not who, a traveler is, who goes labeled with his skill. I had traveled as a singer when I needed access to a prince's court as well as a humble tavern, but more often I went as a traveling physician or eyedoctor. This was the guise I liked best. It allowed me to practice my skill where it was most needed, among the poor, and it gave me access to any kind of house except the noblest.

  This was the disguise I chose now. I took my small harp, but only for my private use: I dared not risk my skill as a singer earning me a summons to Lot's court. So the harp, muffled and wrapped into anonymity, hung on the baggage-mule's shabby saddle, while my boxes of unguents and roll of implements were carried plain to be seen.

  The first part of our way I knew well, but after we reached Bremetennacum, and turned toward the Pennine Gap, the country was unfamiliar.

  The Gap is formed by the valleys of three great rivers. Two of these, the Wharfe and the Isara, spring from the limestone on the Pennine tops and flow, meandering, eastward. The other, an important stream with countless smaller tributaries, lapses toward the west. It is called the Tribuit. Once through the Gap and into the valley of the Tribuit, an enemy's way would be clear to the west coast, and the last embattled corners of Britain.

  Arthur had spoken of two forts lying within the Gap itself. I had gathered from seemingly idle questions put to local men in the tavern at Bremetennacum that in times past there had been a third fort guarding the western mouth of the pass, where the Tribuit Valley widens out toward the lowlands and the coast. It had been built by the Romans as a temporary marching camp, so much of the turf and timber structure would have decayed and vanished, but it occurred to me that the road serving it would stand a survey, and, if it were still in reasonable condition, could provide a quick corner-cut for cavalry coming down from Rheged to defend the Gap.

  From Rheged to Olicana, and York. The road Morgause must have taken to meet with Lot.

  That settled it. I would take the same road, the road of my dream at Nodens' shrine. If the dream had been a true one -- and I had no doubt of it -- there were things I wished to learn.

  We left the main road just beyond Bremetennacum, and headed up the Tribuit valley on the gravel of a neglected Roman road. A day's ride brought us to the marching camp.

  As I had suspected, little was left of it but the banks and ditches, and some rotting timber where the gateways had once stood. But like all such camps it was cleverly placed, on a flank of moorland that looked in every direction over clear country. The hillside had a tributary stream at foot, and to the west the river flowed through flatlands toward the sea. Placed as the camp was, so far west, we might hope that it would not be needed for defense; but as a staging-camp for cavalry, or as a temporary base for a swift foray through the Gap, it was ideal.

  I had been unable to find anyone who knew its name. When I wrote my report to Arthur that night, I called it merely "Tribuit."

  Next day we struck out across country toward the first of the forts of which Arthur had spoken. This lay in the arm of a marshy stream, near the beginning of the pass. The stream spread out beside it into a lake, from which the place took its name. Though ruinous, it could, I judged, be speedily brought into repair. There was abundant timber in the valley, and plenty of stone and deep moorland turf available.

  We reached it toward late afternoon, and, the air being balmy and dry, and the fortress walls promising sufficient shelter, we made camp there. Next morning we began the climb across the ridge toward Olicana.

  Well before midday we had climbed clear of the forest and onto heathland. It was a fine day, with mist drawing back from the sparkling sedges, and the song of water bubbling from every crevice in the rock, where the rills tumbled down to fill the young river. Rippling, too, with sound was the morning sky, where curlews slanted down on ringing streams of song toward their nests in the grass. We saw a she-wolf, heavy with milk, slink across the road ahead, with a hare in her mouth. She gave us a brief, indifferent glance, then slipped into the shelter of the mist.

  It was a wild way, a Wolf Road such as the Old Ones love. I kept my eye on the rocks that crowned the screes, but saw no sign that I could recognize of their remote and comfortless eyries. I had no doubt, though, that we were watched every step of the way. No doubt, either, that news had gone north on the winds that Merlin the enchanter was on the road, and secretly. It did not trouble me. It is not possible to keep secrets from the Old Ones; they know all that comes or goes in forest and hill. They and I had come to an understanding long since, and Arthur had their trust.

  We halted on the summit of the moor. I looked around me. The mist had lifted now, dispersing under the steadily strengthening sun. All around us stretched the moor, broken with grey rock and bracken, with, in the distance, the still-misty heights of fell and mountain. To the left of the road the ground fell away into the wide Isara valley, where water glinted among crowding trees.

  It could not have looked more unlike the rain-dimmed vision of Nodens' shrine, but there was the milestone with its legend, Olicana; and there, to the left, the track plunging steeply down toward the valley trees. Among them, only just visible through the leafage, showed the walls of a considerable house.

  Ulfin, ranging his mule alongside mine, was pointing.

  "If only we had known, we might have found better lodging there."

  I said slowly: "I doubt it. I think we were better under the sky."

  He shot me a curious glance. "I thought you had never been this way, sir: Do you know the place?"

  "Shall we say that I know of it? And would like to know more. Next time we pass a village, or if we see a shepherd on the hill, find out who owns that villa, will you?"

  He threw me another look, but said no more, and we rode on.

  Olicana, the second of Arthur's two forts, lay only ten miles or so to the east. To my surprise the road, heading steeply downward, then crossing a considerable stretch of boggy moorland, was in first-class condition. Ditches and embankments alike looked to have been recently repaired. There was a good timber bridge across the Isara itself, and the ford of the next tributary was cleared and paved. We made good speed in consequence, and came in the early evening into settled country. At Olicana there is a sizable township. We found lodgings in a tavern that stood near the fortress walls, to serve the men of the garrison.

  From what I had seen of the road, and the orderly appointments of the town's streets and square, it came as no surprise that the walls of the fortress itself were in the same good order. Gates and bridges were sound and stout, and the ironwork looked fire-new. By carefully idle questions, and by listening to the talk in the tavern at supper-time, I was able to gather that a skeleton garrison had been placed here in Uther's time, to watch the road into the Gap and to keep an eye on the signal towers to the east. It had been an emergency measure, taken hastily during the worst years of the Saxon Terror, but the same men were still here, despairing of recall, bored to distraction, but kept to a tingling pitch of efficiency by a garrison commander who deserved something better (one gathered) than this dismal outpost of inaction.

  The simplest way to gather the information I needed was to make myself known to this officer, who could then see that my report was sent straight back to the King. Accordingly, leaving Ulfin in the tavern, I presented myself at the guardroom with the pass Arthur had supplied.

  From the speed with which I was passed through, and the lack of surprise at my shabby appearance, and refusal even to state
my name or my business to anyone but the commander himself, it could be judged that messengers were frequent here. Secret messengers, at that. If this really was a forgotten outpost (and admittedly not I nor the King's advisers had known of it) then the only messengers who would come and go so assiduously were spies. I began to look forward all the more to meeting the commander.

  I was searched before being taken in, which was only to be expected. Then a couple of the guards escorted me through the fort to the headquarters building. I looked about me. The place was well lighted, and as far as I could see, roads, courtyards, wells, exercise ground, workshops, barracks were in mint repair. We passed carpenters' shops, harness-makers, smithies. From the padlocks on the granary doors, I deduced that the barns were fully stocked. The place was not large but was still, I reckoned, undermanned. There could be accommodation for Arthur's cavalry almost before the force could be formed.

  My pass was taken through, then I was shown into the commander's room, and the guards withdrew, with a neatness that told its own story. This was where the spies came; and usually, I supposed, as late as this.

  The commander received me standing, a tribute not to me but to the King's seal. The first thing that struck me was his youth. He could not have been more than twenty-two. The second thing was that he was tired. Lines of strain were scored into his face: his youth, the solitary post up here, in charge of a bored and hardbitten contingent of men; the constant watchfulness as the tides of invasion flowed and ebbed along the eastern coasts; all this, winter and summer, without help and without backing. It seemed true that after Uther had sent him here four years ago -- four years -- he had forgotten all about him.

  "You have news for me?" The flat tone disguised no eagerness; that had long since been dissipated by frustration.

  "I can give you what news there is when my main business is done. I have been sent, rather, to get information from you, if you will be good enough to supply it. I have a report to send to the High King. I would be glad if a messenger could take it to him as soon as it is completed."