Saxon Sword

by Griff Hosker

  “Our people made this?”

  “Under the guiding hand of our wizard aye.” I turned, “Make camp. I will take Arturus in before dark. We will light the fire. Arturus, fetch kindling. I will go into the tomb first.” I had, in my saddlebags, a candle which Gawan had made himself. It would burn all night. Using my flint, I lit the candle. A sudden breeze seemed to sigh and made the flame flicker. Myrddyn was here.

  I stepped into the tomb, “I am here, father, wise one. I have brought Arturus as Gawan told me.” As soon as I entered I could feel that my father was here. He was not in the mummified body I saw on the shelf. His spirit filled the cave. It was as though I was inside his spirit. Gawan had told me the same except that he felt the spirit was that of Myrddyn. Each man felt something different.

  The light from the candle threw long shadows in the cave. Its flickering flame made the rocks look like the pillars in a Greek church. The stone flecked ceiling seemed to shimmer with the candlelight. I saw the mummified body of my father on one side and on the other the newly buried body of Myrddyn. I turned as I heard something drop. Arturus was not in the tomb he was still outside. He had seen the wolf’s eyes light up when I had lit the candle. When Gawan had come to bury Myrddyn he had brought a metal candle holder. It had been fashioned so that a wolf head had a shield upon which the candle would sit. I placed the candle upon it.

  I turned to go to the blackened hearth in the centre. There was no chimney but the cave had been cunningly formed so that the smoke rose and was drawn out of the wolf’s nose. I took the kindling from Arturus and made a fire. It should have been his task but I knew that he was taking in all that he saw around us. When the fire was going the whole tomb was bathed in a soft red and blue light. The blue was reflected in the blue stone in the rocks.

  I stood and went over to my nephew. Putting my arm around his shoulders I said, “Your father wished you to see this. I know that you are a Christian and what was done here is what the priests who baptised you in Constantinopolis, would have called pagan.” I pointed to the shelf in the rock where the Warlord lay. Men called me the Warlord but I knew that I was a pale imitation of the real one. “There lies Lord Lann. I believe he is sleeping. Come.”

  I walked over to the shelf and saw the patina of dust which now covered the body. We had not put face masks upon them but he wore his armour and his helmet. We stood and looked. Arturus said, in little more than a whisper, “Why does he not hold Saxon Slayer?”

  “My father found the sword. It had been left for him by an ancestor. It was buried. When he died it was taken. I recovered it.” I turned and looked at Arturus. The thought had been placed in his head. Perhaps, as the son of a half wizard he was more attuned to the spirits than I was. Had they told him something? I took out the sword. “You think I should lay it upon his body?”

  He shouted so loud that it made me start, “No!” The word echoed around the tomb.

  I heard feet at the entrance. Our men were startled. Without looking I waved a hand to dismiss them. “Why not? What did you hear?”

  He looked at me and there was a mixture of fear and awe in his voice and on his face. “I heard Myrddyn in my head. He said the sword was needed yet.” He looked at me and his eyes pleaded. “I do not understand this. How can Myrddyn speak to me? I dreamed him but that was a dream. I often have fantastical dreams. But now I am awake and I heard his voice inside my head. It was as though he was here.”

  “Dreams, Arturus, are the way that the spirits talk to us. Some men never dream. You dream often?”

  “Aye I do and since Myrddyn came to me in Constantinopolis I have dreamed more and more. I see beautiful visions and terrible ends I…” he shook his head, “I cannot speak of it here. Can we go now? I will see it again in daylight but the night is falling. I am not afraid but…”

  I put my arm around him and led him from the tomb. “There is no compunction for you to stay. We will go. Daffydd and his men will have hunted. There will be hot food.”

  Every face turned as we left the cave. Llenlleog said, “Warlord some of the men have asked if they can visit the tomb.”

  I nodded, “My father and his wizard would like that. We need to feed the fire.”

  Llenlleog nodded, “Of course. We will go in but in small numbers. This is a holy place.” He turned to Arturus. “When I came here the first time I dreamed. I dreamed my death and I have taken comfort in that.”

  Arturus started when Llenlleog said that and he looked at me.

  “You have dreamed your death?” Llenlleog clutched at the wolf amulet he wore. I smiled, “Do not be afraid. All men die. I know that it will be in battle and I need to know no more. Unlike Llenlleog I do not need to see my own death. I have seen more than fifty summers. Its day is coming. Let us see to the horses and then we can eat.”

  After we had seen to the horses and headed back to the camp I smiled as I saw the stone wolf with the flaming eyes and smoke coming from its mouth. The men who lived in these mountains would see it. Their battle sign was a dragon. Few if any dared to come to this pagan place and to some they would see it as a dragon wrapped around Wyddfa and protecting the mountain. Then their belief in the new White Christ would weaken. They would think of the old ways when this land was ruled by druids. They would not ascribe the sudden appearance of the light in the night to us. It would be as though some spirit had woken beneath the mountain. It was wyrd.

  Normally my men were like chattering magpies when we camped. Here there was silence. The fire crackled and the stew bubbled. Men’s feet sounded on the stones as, in ones and twos, they entered the tomb and paid their respects. I saw Arturus watching some as they emerged. They had a light upon their faces. I knew, for it had happened to me, that they would be better warriors. They would have felt, as I had, the presence of my father. That gave a warrior hope. If he died in battle then this was his fate. He would be in the spirit world.

  Arturus picked at his food. He was distracted. “How can there be a Christ and the spirits of the dead?”

  I shrugged, “I know not. My beliefs have not changed since I was a child. Yours have and I do not envy you the battle which will rage within you. I see now why your father wished you to come here. He and I will soon pass into the Otherworld and it will be for you to rule what remains of Rheged. It may well be a fusion of the old ways and the new.” I shook my head. “I honestly do not know. What I do know is that I have dreamed and seen a dark world ruled by Saxons but I have also seen,” I pointed to the wolf’s eyes and the red light which burned there, “a warrior in the future who wields a sword and sees Rheged reborn.”

  He stared into the camp fire and laid down his bowl of food. “I too have dreamed. I know that we lose. I have not seen my death but I have seen rampaging Saxons and other wild men. I saw naked Hibernians and fierce Picts. I saw Civitas Carvetiorum burning.”

  Llenlleog had been listening, “Arturus, I have seen the same. Do not despair. What we do will become the stuff of legend. So long as that dream exists then there will be hope for the future. I have not seen this seed grow but I believe it is there. When we are dead we will watch from the spirit world and, many years from now, we will see a wolf warrior. He may look different from us but we will see Arturus in his eyes and in his sword. All of us here are sworn to see you become an equite and ready to take on the Warlord’s mantle. It is meant to be.”

  Arturus saw that the men around the fire, equites, squires and archers were all silent and looking at him. It was though scales had fallen from his eyes, “That is why all of you are so hard to defeat. You are not afraid to die in battle.”

  I nodded, “Our death will not mean defeat. For those of us who die it will be another journey and, in our death, we will take enemies of Rheged with us.”

  Although it was not cold I lay wrapped in my wolf cloak. I was one of the wolf brethren. There were few of us left now and I knew that when I returned home then we would need to resurrect that which I had pushed to the back of my mind.

&nbs
p; I dreamed.

  I saw that I was being chased but I could not run as fast as I wished. I was wounded and I had many enemies. I climbed a steep path. Every few steps I turned to slay another foe but they were like grains of sand on a beach. No matter how many I slew there were more following. When the last one plunged his sword into me I fell into a black hole.

  I woke with a start. Daffydd was picking at the remains of the stew. There was a thin grey light to the east and Arturus was gone. My captain of archers nodded towards the mouth of the tomb. “He went in some hours ago, Warlord. He is sleeping there.”

  I nodded and rose. I walked over to the cave. I was glad I had my wolf cloak for it was colder now. I saw that my men had kept the fire burning and Arturus was lying parallel with his grandfather. He was dreaming. Gawan had known this would happen.

  I turned and went to make water down the path. By the time I returned dawn was beginning to break.

  Daffydd said, as he offered me some of the left-over food, “I am pleased we came here, Warlord. My father was born not far from here and he died close by too. I am sad that this is no longer our land but Rheged is a fair copy, is it not? Halvelyn is no Wyddfa but it is a special mountain. My family will be safe there when I am gone.”

  We were all ready to ride when Arturus finally rose. He looked different. He turned and looked back at the cave and knelt briefly. He turned and came over to me. “I prayed for their souls.” He smiled at my face. “It is a Christian word but it means the same as spirit, uncle. I dreamed and I think that I understand now. It is time for us to return to Rheged. We have much to do if I am to be ready to take over from you.”

  His father had shown his wisdom or perhaps he had been directed by Myrddyn. Arturus changed after that night. He began to learn to be a leader.

  It took us ten days to return home. I knew that his mother was worried but his father was not. As we headed up along the Deep Water and saw the crags all around us the next Warlord was looking around to take it all in. He had thought the east was that which he desired. He had been seduced by the life in Constantinopolis. Whatever he had dreamed had driven it from him.

  For myself I felt energised. I had my blacksmith make a copper covered wolf amulet for each of the new equites and Llenlleog and I worked with the squires so that they could become equites. The gift of King Penda’s horses proved timely. They were bigger than our horses and our horse master began to breed bigger horses to carry equites. I asked Arturus if he wished to be made an equite. His performance against those who wished us harm had shown me that he had the skills but he told me he was not yet ready. That was a clear sign of leadership.

  Over the winter we saw no signs of the Bernicians and I received no news from Mercia. Neither was welcome. I knew that both the Bernicians and King Penda’s enemies were up to something but we were blind. Gawan offered to go in disguise to Eoforwic to spy upon the enemy. As he told me Myrddyn had often done that.

  “While we had Myrddyn we also had you, brother. We cannot risk losing our only wizard.”

  “But I am a shadow of my mentor.”

  “Even so there is no need. Let us take no news as good news. Our quests still watch the Eden valley. King Penda and Ethelbert watch the road to the west and we know that the Bernicians will not come in winter. When the new grass comes we will have more equites, archers and squires. With King Penda’s horses we can move quickly.”

  He smiled, “Brother you have changed.”

  “It began with the dream in Myrddyn’s cave but I have seen your son change too and he is the hope for the future.”

  His eyes saddened, “And I have seen the curse of the wizard. It is bad enough to dream your own death but I have seen my son’s death too. I know that it is not the end but it feels that way.” His countenance changed to a smile. “That is some way off for to die he needs a son who is grown and he has yet to take a bride.”

  Our eyes began to turn south as the weather improved. We had more equites now and we kept one equite, a squire and two archers at Pasgentün. Like the ones to the east they spent half a moon there. It was too early for the changeover when we saw Bors with his quest heading north. They had with them a rider on a white horse. It was a messenger from King Penda. I sent for Gawan. He was working with two young men who had shown an aptitude for magic. He was not certain that they would even attain that status but he hoped that they could become healers. Llenlleog and the other equites joined me.

  “Is it war do you think, Warlord?”

  My equites knew of the boars head seal and of the white horse. I shrugged, “It could be but speculation will gain us nothing. He will soon be upon us.”

  Bors dismounted, “This is Ecgfrith. He has come from King Penda.” I looked at the warrior as he slid from the back of his white horse. He had no battle scars. I would have put his age at, perhaps, twenty summers. From the chafing on his legs he had ridden hard. He was no rider. He had a short sword and seax as well as a leather satchel across his body.

  He bowed, “I bring word, from my king. War is upon us.”

  I nodded, “What is the message?”

  “King Oswald has left Eoforwic and he is heading for Lincylene. My king would have you meet him at Tomworðig.”

  I kept my voice calm, “When?”

  “He would have you leave immediately, Warlord. It will take you three days to reach him and the enemy is closing with us. He says not to worry about your full muster. You and your best equites are what we need. I was sent because I know of a road which will take us through the quiet part of the land and we can reach my king without being observed.”

  I nodded, “Llenlleog, have my equites and captain of archers gather in my hall. I will speak with them.”

  Ecgfrith looked relieved, “Thank you, Warlord. King Oswald brings a mighty army.”

  “How many are there?”

  “He has twenty warbands, lord.”

  That was a large number of men. That was more than we had fought when we had killed Edwin. “Come we will have some refreshment before we ride.” I put my arm around his shoulder. “Was it a hard journey?”

  He nodded, “Aye lord the high passes still had some snow.”

  “You came that way?”

  For the first time he looked nervous. “It was the quickest way, lord.”

  I smiled, “That explains why your legs are so red. That is a hard way to come.”

  “Aye it was.”

  “And did King Penda give you aught else for me?” He looked puzzled, “A letter, a ring, a seal perhaps?”

  He smiled, “No lord for he did not wish a message to be intercepted. That is why he sent me on the white horse so that you would know that I was a true messenger.”

  We had reached my hall and Agramaine had been listening intently. As we reached my hall I said, smiling, “And how did King Oswald learn of the white horse?”

  He turned, fear and guilt all over his face, “I told you, Warlord that I came from King Penda.”

  “Agramaine, bring him into the hall. We have questions we need to ask. Arturus search his horse.”

  Arturus left and we led the struggling warrior into the hall. “Lord I swear.” Gawan was watching and he gave the slightest shake of his head. He had read the young man’s mind.

  I reached under his tunic and pulled out the cross. “You swear by your lord, do you? You are no Mercian. You are Bernician. You can prove your innocence by laying out, on the table, the contents of your satchel. That will prove it one way or another.”

  He began to lift out what was within. There was a second cross, wood this time, which proved him a Christian. There was a small stoppered jug and there was dried venison. “I am a Christian, lord but King Penda suffers Christians.”

  “That I know but you are not from him. That I also know.”

  His shoulders sagged and, in one movement, had taken the jug, pulled the stopper and downed the draught. Gawan ran to him. “That is poison!”

  We were too late. His back arced and h
e fell writhing to the floor. It was a painful death but swift. “That is the final proof if proof were needed.”

  Arturus entered, “There is nothing of note on his horse.”

  “And that leaves us with a dilemma. He has come from King Oswald. When he said the High Divide, I knew that. Where does he wait to ambush us?” I was asking the question of myself.

  Gawan said, “I just detected his falsehood and not where the threat lies.”

  “Arturus fetch our scouts. When Llenlleog returns we will hold a counsel of war.” He left. “Have this body removed. He was brave; foolish but brave.”

  Left alone with Gawan I asked, “What do you think?”

  “I think that a mixture of King Penda’s suspicions and the spirits have given us a chance to hurt King Oswald. He may be waiting to ambush us in which case we can ambush him. On the other hand, he may be trying to lure you east to give him a safer passage down the Eden Valley.”

  “Then he will have spies watching my land. We will appear to take the bait and rely upon the skill of my scouts. I will let my equites discuss the matter.”

  “But you have made up your mind.”

  “Let us see if they have a better solution.”

  When I explained what we had learned to my equites they offered many solutions. The younger ones thought we ought to ride north and ravage the land of Bernicia. Pol said, “Warlord if they are waiting to ambush us then their land will be unguarded.”

  The older ones, like Bors were more practical, “We ride south towards Eoforwic. If we know they are waiting then that gives us an advantage.”

  Agramaine said, “Why do we need to do anything? We know that this is not a message from King Penda. We just wait for the right message.”