Here Lies Arthur Read Free

raiders?
    “You’ve turned paler than porridge,” he said. “But you’ve nothing to fear from me, and nothing from the Bear either. It’ll make no odds to you who your lord is. Except that if I can make Arthur strong enough there might be peace again, like our grandfathers’ fathers knew back in the days when Rome held this island. Strength like Arthur’s could be used for good, see, just as the strength of old Rome was. That’s why I help him, Gwyna. And I have a sense that you can help him too.”

IV
     
    He talked and talked while I sat drying out beside his fire, and the grey day brightened grudgingly above the woods. He was in love with words. He found his own conversation so interesting he didn’t notice that he was the only one talking. I just sat watching, listening, while he spoke of places I’d never heard of: Elmet and Rheged, Ireland across the sea, Din Tagyll where the ships from Syria put in. Oh, I snatched a few familiar names out of the word-storm. I’d heard of bad King Gworthigern, who let the heathen Saxons settle in the east, and how they rose up and tried to steal the rest of Britain too. And I knew a song about Ambrosius Aurelianus, who led the armies of the Britons through battle after battle until he smashed those Saxons flat at Badon Hill. But mostly Myrddin’s words flowed past my ears like water.
    “When Ambrosius died,” he said, “there was no man strong enough to take his place. The army he built to fight the Saxons came apart into a hundred different war-bands. Now they fight each other, and leave theSaxons sitting tight upon the lands they stole in the eastern half of Britain. Some of those war-bands serve the small kings of the hill-country. Some serve the big kings of Dumnonia and Powys and Calchvynydd. Some are landless men, loyal only to their captain, grabbing loot and territory where they may. Arthur’s band is like that. But Arthur’s is the best, and one day, with my help, Arthur will be leader over all the rest as well. Then he can finish what Ambrosius started: push east and drive the Saxons into the sea.”
    I was only half listening. I was more interested in the stew Myrddin cooked up while he talked. I’d never thought I’d see a nobleman cook his own food. It was watery stuff, flavoured with onions, and dry meat a-bob in it. I ate all I could and then fell asleep, propped up in a corner with my head on my scabbed knees. In my dreams the woods were still on fire.

V
     
    Woken by voices, I jumped up. I’d slept the day away. Afternoon sunlight bled down through the mat of weeds and wormy rafters overhead and made patches on the floor. The horse was half asleep, head down. Out among the trees two men were talking. One was my new friend, or master, or whatever he was. The other I did not know.
    I crept past the horse and peeked. In the shade of the trees that grew around the old house’s door stood another horse, a white one with a mane the colour of old snow. A man sat on it, looking down at Myrddin. The newcomer was a warrior, with a leather breastplate, and a sword at his side. His thick, red cloak had run in the rain, dribbling pink stains down his horse’s rump. His helmet was off, and his sandy hair stirred in the breeze.
    I went closer. I didn’t think I’d be noticed. Noblemen don’t notice people like me, any more than they notice the stray dogs and cats that flit around their halls. Iheard the newcomer say, “The Irishman is on his way. He’ll bring all the men he can muster, and ours are tired after the fight. If it comes to a battle…”
    “It will not come to that,” Myrddin promised. “Don’t you trust me, Cei?”
    “Not an inch,” said the rider, laughing. Something made him glance my way, and he started as he caught sight of my face watching him from the shadows. Then he kicked his horse’s flanks and turned it away. It looked strong and fast, that horse. It had been well looked after, and well fed on other people’s hay.
    “We