“Of course, of course, by all means, go if you must,” said Governor Paulus. “But return this evening, Artorius—you and one or two of your men. We will sup together. I have some excellent wine from the provinces of southern Gaul. You must come and drink with me.”
At Arthur’s hazy promise to give the invitation careful consideration, we departed, continuing on our way to the church.
“That man is a poisonous lizard, Artos,” Bedwyr muttered sourly. “And I would not drink a single drop of his Gaulish wine if I were you—not even if I were dying of thirst.”
“Patience,” Arthur advised. “We satisfy the law in coming here. Nothing more.”
“Law?” Cai demanded. “What law is that?”
“Great Caesar’s law,” Arthur informed them. “Established when he first set foot in Ynys Prydein.”
“Yes?” inquired Bedwyr. “What is it?”
“Every ruler must conquer Londinium if he is to hold Britain,” the king explained. I smiled to hear my thoughts echoed in Arthur’s words.
“I know of no such law,” Cador muttered. “What is so exalted about this crumbling cow byre?”
Gwalchavad, who had been following this exchange closely, added, “Londinium stinks of slops and urine. And from what I have seen, the people here are more kin to barbarians than to Britons.”
“Peace, brothers! We will not stay here one moment longer than necessary,” Arthur assured them. “When I have achieved what I came here to do, we are away to Caer Melyn.” He stopped, and smiled to himself. “Did you see how relieved Paulus was when we declined his invitation? Perhaps we should sup with him anyway. That would make the old toad squirm.”
“I say we should do it,” Cador urged. “And let us bring all the Cymbrogi with us and let them drain his precious wine to the dregs.”
They talked like this until we reached the church, where we were met by Archbishop Urbanus, and Uflwys, who was now Bishop of Londinium. “Hail, Arthur! Hail, Merlinus! Greetings, good friends. In the name of our Lord the Christ, we do welcome you,” said Urbanus. “May God’s holy blessing be upon you.”
“How have you fared?” asked Uflwys. “If you are hungry we have bread and ale.”
“We can do better than that for the High King of Britain, Uflwys,” the archbishop said. “You will find that we have not been idle since receiving word of your arrival.”
Arthur thanked the archbishop, and suggested to Uflwys that the Cymbrogi stood ready to serve. “We are well used to making our own preparations,” he said.
“While in Londinium,” Archbishop Urbanus replied, “you must allow us to serve you. After all you have done for Dyfrig at Mailros, it is the least kindness we can perform.”
By this the archbishop revealed his affliction; he suffered the same peculiar blindness as the southern noblemen. The Cymbrogi war host under Arthur’s command had, at hideous cost, saved Britain from its deadliest danger, and all Urbanus could see was that an obscure northern abbey would receive a new roof and altar. Oh, but they are an ignorant fetch, these haughty southern patricians.
Nevertheless, we stayed in the precinct of the church, and in the next days it hummed like a bee tree in high summer. Riders came and went with messages both to and from various lords and noblemen. Even before entering the city, I had sent word to Dyfed in the west, as it was in my mind to have Bishop Teilo and Dubricius the Wise perform the crowntaking ceremony.
For, despite the archbishop’s apparent blessing, I knew that he was not the man to bestow the Sovereignty of Britain. It was not a question of his esteem for Arthur; he did honor Arthur—in his own way. But Urbanus had lived too long in the city; too long had he feasted at the tables of rich and powerful men. Their thoughts had become his thoughts—rather than the other way. In short, the archbishop cared more for the friendship and good opinion of men like Paulus than for that of God. That is the sad truth of it.
The Kingdom of Summer required pure hearts and hands to guide it. In Arthur, the Summer Realm had found its lord; and in Arthur’s kingship, a new age was being born. I did not care to allow a power-worshiping sycophant like Urbanus to midwife such an important birth. Therefore, I sent to those whom I knew to be holy men, as pure and undefiled in their faith as they were fierce in its protection.
When Urbanus heard what I had done, he reckoned it a slight. But I told him, “As Arthur is a man of the west and north, and will return there to establish his reign, I think you will agree it is only fitting that those who must serve with him also commission him to his rule.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” replied Urbanus, even as he struggled to calculate the degree of affront offered him. “When you put it in that light, I do agree with you, Merlinus. I will leave it in your hands, and in God’s.”
Within a few days, the first visitors began arriving in Londinium. A trickle to begin, the arrivals rapidly swelled to flood stage. From the Three Fair Realms of Lloegres, Prydein, and Celyddon they came, from Gwynedd, Rheged, and Dyfed, Mon and Ierne and Dal Riata, from Derei and Bernicia.
Aelle and his kinsmen were already there, but the presence of the Bretwalda caused other lords of the Saecsen kind to appear: Cynric, Cymen, and Cissa, with their carles and kith. Ban of Benowyc in Armorica, who had supported Arthur as he had Aurelius, arrived with two ships full of noblemen and servants. Meurig ap Tewdrig, King of Dyfed; Idris of the Brigantes, Cunomor of Celyddon, Brastias of the Belgae, and Ulfias of the Dubuni. King Fergus of Ierne, who owed Arthur tribute, received the summons and obeyed.
Each and every lord among them brought gifts for the new High King. The Dragon Flight, the Cymbrogi elite, were charged with assembling and guarding the tribute which flowed like a river of wealth into the church: gold and silver objects of all kinds—beakers, bowls, bracelets and brooches—many of them set with jewels and gemstones; there were swords and spears and shields and knives, and handsome carved-wood chests and chairs; there were bows of horn with silver-tipped arrows, and gifts of mead and ale, as well as grain and smoked meat—whole halves and haunches of pork and beef and venison. There were horses and hunting hounds by the score…the tribute of kings brought to seal the bond of fealty.
And when at last the day came to assemble in the church for the kingmaking, there was not enough room for everyone beneath that holy roof. The yard outside the church was scarcely less crowded than the sanctuary inside, and still there were those who were forced to stand in the street with the citizens of Londinium, who had lately become very impressed with this northern upstart and wanted to attend his crowntaking, out of curiosity if not homage. Even so, many who came simply to gawk stayed to venerate the new High King.
And this is the way of it:
We awakened before dawn on the appointed day to pray and break fast. Then, taking up my rowan rod, my hand on Bedwyr’s shoulder to guide me, I led Arthur, who was flanked by Cai and Cador, across the crowded churchyard and into the church. Directly behind Arthur came young Illtyd, Dubricius’ aide, who held a golden circlet in his hands. Bishop Teilo and Dubricius followed in their long cleric robes, each clasping a holy book.
The church was already full to overflowing, and at our appearance, the throng gasped: Arthur, arrayed like a Celtic prince, seemed a creature conjured from the strange, shifty light of the west or the enchanted mists of the north. He wore a pure white tunic and green trousers with a belt made of overlapping disks of finest red gold. His golden torc gleamed at his throat, and on his shoulders hung a fine red cloak.
Looking neither right nor left, he approached the altar to the chants of the assembled monks. “Gloria! Gloria! Gloria in Excelsis Deo!” they sang, filling the church with praise for the High King of Heaven, as at the altar Arthur knelt. Dubricius and Teilo took their places before him, placing their right hands upon his shoulders.
Raising my hands, I called out, making my voice resound within those walls. “Great of Might, High King of Heaven, Lord of the High Realms, Maker, Redeemer, Friend of Man, we worship and honor you!”
>
Like a bard of old, I turned to the four quarters and offered up the prayer Blessed Dafyd had offered for Aurelius on his crowntaking:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock,
Bear witness:
We pray this day for Arthur, our king;
For God’s strength to steady him,
God’s might to uphold him,
God’s eye to look before him,
God’s ear to hear him,
God’s word to speak for him,
God’s hand to guard him,
God’s shield to protect him,
God’s host to save him
From the snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From everyone who shall wish him ill.
We do summon all these powers between him and these evils:
Against every cruel power that may oppose him,
Against incantations of false druids,
Against black arts of barbarians,
Against wiles of idol-keepers,
Against enchantments great and small,
Against every foul thing that corrupts body and soul.
Jesu with him, before him, behind him;
Jesu in him, beneath him, above him;
Jesu on his right, Jesu on his left;
Jesu when he sleeps, Jesu when he wakes;
Jesu in the heart of everyone who thinks of him;
Jesu in the mouth of everyone who speaks of him;
Jesu in the eye of everyone who sees him.
We uphold him today, through a mighty strength,
the invocation of the Three in One,
Through belief in God,
Through confession of the Holy Spirit,
Through trust in the Christ, Creator of all creation.
So be it.
Then, coming once more before Arthur, I said, “Bow before the Lord of All, and swear your fealty to the High King you will serve.”
Arthur prostrated himself face down before the altar, stretching out his hands to either side in the manner of a vanquished battlechief before his conqueror. Teilo and Dubricius stood at either hand, with Illtyd at Arthur’s head.
Dubricius, at Arthur’s right hand, said, “With this hand you will wield the Sword of Britain. What is your vow?”
Arthur answered, “With this hand I will wield the Sword of Britain in righteousness and fair judgment. By the power of God’s might, I will use it to conquer injustice and punish those who practice harm. I will hold this hand obedient to my Lord God, used of him to do his work in this worlds-realm.”
Teilo, standing at Arthur’s left hand, said, “With this hand you will hold the Shield of Britain. What is your vow?”
“With this hand I will hold tight to the Shield of Britain in hope and compassion. Through God’s will, I will protect the people who keep faith with me. I will hold this hand obedient to my Lord Jesu, used of him to do his work in this worlds-realm.”
And then Illtyd, standing at Arthur’s head, said, “Upon your brow you will wear the Crown of Britain. What is your vow?”
“Upon my brow I will wear the Crown of Britain in all honor and meekness. By the power of God’s might and through his will, I will lead the kingdom through all things whatever shall befall me, with courage, with dignity, and with faith in the Christ who shall guide me while my body holds breath.”
At this, the good priests replied, “Rise in faith, Arthur ap Aurelius, taking the Christ to be your lord and savior, honoring him above all earthly lords.”
Arthur rose and Illtyd placed the slender golden circlet upon his head. Dubricius turned to the altar and took up Caliburnus—that is Caledvwlch, or Cut Steel, Arthur’s great battle sword—and placed it in the king’s right hand. Teilo took up Arthur’s great battle shield, Prydwen, washed white and painted anew with the Cross of Jesu, and placed it in his left hand.
I stepped close and, finding the brooch by touch, unfastened the cloak from Arthur’s shoulders. Teilo and Dubricius brought forth a fine new cloak of imperial purple with gold edging—an emperor’s cloak, and its significance would not be lost on men like Paulus and Urbanus. This cloak the blessed priests fastened at Arthur’s shoulder with the silver stag-head brooch of Aurelius.
Raising my staff once more, I cried, “Go forth, Arthur Pendragon, to all righteousness and good works; rule justly and live honorably; be to your people a ready light and sure guide through all things, whatever may befall this worlds-realm.”
Gripping the sword and shield, the new purple cloak around his shoulders, Arthur turned to gaze upon his subject lords.
“People of Britain,” I called, “here is your High King! I charge you to love him, honor him, serve him, follow him, and pledge your lives to him even as he has pledged his life to the High King of Heaven.”
As if awaiting these words, the great doors of the church burst open with a tremendous crash. Cai and Cador, somewhere below the altar, shouted to the Cymbrogi. The crowd roiled with alarm and confusion. I heard steel sing out as weapons were drawn.
“Do not move, Myrddin!” Arthur shouted, dashing away.
“What is it, Arthur?” I demanded. “What is happening?”
Just then Dubricius cried, “Hold, men! There will be no bloodshed on this holy day. Put up your weapons.”
I heard the sound of their footfall on stone as the intruders advanced. I gripped my rowan staff tightly. “Bedwyr!” called Arthur. “Stay with Myrddin!”
In the next heartbeat, I felt Bedwyr’s hand tight on my arm, pulling me aside. “Stay back, Myrddin,” Bedwyr said. “I will protect you.”
“Who are they, Bedwyr? Do you know them?”
“I have never seen them before,” answered Bedwyr, his voice tight. “There are twelve. They carry spears and—” he paused, wonderingly—“these strangers—they all look like Llenlleawg! And there are—” He halted again.
“What? Tell me, Bedwyr. What do you see?”
“I do not believe what I am seeing.”
“Nor will I, unless you tell me. I cannot see, Bedwyr,” I reminded him hopelessly.
“Maidens, Emrys,” he replied. “Twelve—no, sixteen of them, I think—all wear mantles of white and…what is this? Each maiden holds a white dove between her hands. They enter the church behind the warriors and advance to the altar. They are coming towards us, Myrddin.”
He halted again and I heard the sharp crack of the butts of spears upon the stones. There was silence for a moment, and then the crowd gasped. I could tell someone had entered the church.
“Bedwyr!” I demanded harshly. “What is happening? Tell me, man!”
“Why, it is Gwenhwyvar,” he answered, mystified. “I think she has come to honor Arthur.”
Stupid man! I thought, divining at last the significance of the maidens and doves. “Honor him!” I snapped. “Bedwyr, she has come to claim him!”
3
AH, GWENHWYVAR! WHITE GODDESS of DeDannan’s enigmatic tribe, deeply did I resent you on that day, and deeply, deeply did I fear you. Perhaps I may be forgiven my rancor and alarm. Dearest of hearts, I did not know you.
Let it be said that you never repaid my resentment with spite, nor held my fear against me, less yet gave either of them justification. In those next years you proved your nobility a thousand times over. Gwenhwyvar, you were never less than a queen.
I saw Arthur as the Lord of the Summer Realm, and that vision cast all else in unreckoning shadow. But you saw Arthur as a man; he needed that, and you knew it. Gwenhwyvar, in the wisdom of your sex, you were a very druid. And more! It made my heart soar to see how you and Arthur grew to one in honor and courage. I do not wonder that God himself formed you for Arthur.
Let it also be known that never did you deserve the slanders that gathered thick about your name
. It is ever the way of small-souled creatures to pull down the giants in their midst. Strangers to virtue, they cannot abide such nobility; lacking it in themselves, they will not tolerate it in others. So they gnaw away at it, as the insect gnaws at the root of the oak, until the mighty forest lord falls. Christ knows, they have their reward.
Still, on your marriage day, I was no friend to you. For, as Arthur was king of all Britons, it was in my mind to get for him a British wife. Most canny of your kind, you knew better. Arthur, like the Summer Kingdom, was larger than Britain only. You taught me that, Gwenhwyvar—though I was long in the learning.
Bending low before Arthur, as Bedwyr described it, the Irish queen placed her white spear crosswise on the floor. Gwenhwyvar then stood and pressed the white dove she held into Arthur’s hands. Seizing Caledvwlch from Arthur’s side, she raised the naked blade to her lips, kissed the crosspiece of the hilt and cradled the Sword of Britain to her breast.
“Swords and doves, Bedwyr!” I said. “Think what it means!”
“Am I a bard?” growled Bedwyr. “Tell me, Myrddin.”
“It means she has claimed him for her husband,” I told him. “Does Arthur accept the dove?”
“He does,” Bedwyr replied. “He holds it in his hand.”
“Then he has accepted the match,” I told him, realizing the ruin of the day. It was over before I could make a move to prevent it.
In truth, I should have known it was finished the day Fergus brought the treasures of his tribe to Arthur as tribute, placing his daughter and his champion in Arthur’s care. In accepting Fergus’ tribute he tacitly accepted the proposed match.
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