'The bell woke me,' I replied. The young warrior appeared so confused by this simple declaration, I added, 'The monkish bell – that,' as it tolled again, 'just there.'
'God's truth,' he said, shaking his head, 'it was the singing that woke me. I heard nothing of the bell.'
I stared at him, trying to define his face in the windy darkness. 'Singing?'
Strange to say, but even as I spoke the word, I heard the sound of voices lifted in slow, sonorous chant. Perhaps I had been too taken with the bell to have noticed, but I had not heard the sound before that instant. Nevertheless, Peredur maintained that the chanting had wakened him, and now that he had said it, I heard it, too.
As we stood in the wind-tossed night, discussing this, the moon broke free of the low-flying clouds and cast a thin, watery light over the barren hillscape. The bell tolled and the chanting grew louder, and I turned in the direction of the sound, but saw nothing and so directed my gaze elsewhere.
'There they are,' breathed Peredur, putting his head close to mine. 'Eight of them, I make it.'
'Where?' I searched the moon-shot darkness for a glimpse of what he saw, but found nothing.
There!' answered Peredur; placing his hand on my shoulder, he turned me in the direction he was looking – the same direction I had searched. Now I saw the flickering gleam of eight separate lights aglow on the hilltop. On my honour, I swear the lights had not been there a mere moment before. Yet there they were, bobbing gently along the crest of the hill: torches, held aloft by unseen hands, wafting gently nearer to the sound of chanting and the slow ringing of a bell.
'A poor night, I think, for travelling hereabouts,' I remarked.
'Who can they be?' wondered Peredur, and then suggested we take up our weapons and see.
'No,' I counselled, 'their course will bring them near enough. We will await them here.'
We stood our ground and shortly perceived the phantom glimmer of faces beneath the guttering torches. On they came, passing out of sight briefly as they descended one of the intervening valleys – only to reappear much closer than before. Now they were near enough for us to see that there were nine of them: eight torchbearers led by one who carried the bell -monks, as I had supposed, dressed in priestly robes that billowed in the wind. They were chanting in Latin and ringing their bell so intently that they did not appear to heed us at all; had I been in their place, I doubt if I should have expected to encounter fellow wanderers on such a night.
On they came, their voices low, their steps shuffling slowly, their shapes shifting in the wind-whipped torchlight as their robes blew this way and that. Dust churned up by the gusting wind cast a filthy pall over all, so that they seemed to float along on dirty clouds. When I judged they had come near enough, I stepped forth out of the darkness, my hands upraised to show I carried no weapons.
'Peace to you, good brothers,' I said, speaking boldly to be heard over the whine of the wind.
It was not my intent to frighten them, but an unexpected stranger looming out of the darkness of a storm-blown night might be assumed to set the heart racing. Curiously, the column simply halted, ceasing its chanting at the same instant, so that it seemed the monks had anticipated my sudden appearance.
'I give you good greeting,' I called, stepping nearer. They turned towards me and it was then I saw that their faces were swathed in strips of cloth dressings like those that bind the wounded.
None of them spoke a word. The hiss and flutter of the torches, and the sighing moan of the wind, were the only sounds to be heard in all the world. We all stood looking at one another in silence – Peredur and I on our side, the nine shrouded monks on theirs.
'What do you here on such a foul night?' I asked at last.
The foremost monk carrying the bell deigned to reply. 'We go to worship our lord,' he intoned. 'The time of our release approaches.'
'We have ridden far this day, but we have seen neither church nor chapel hereabouts,' I told him. 'Where is your abbey?'
'Our temple lies beneath the hollow hills,' he said in a voice cracking like the dull, distant thunder.
'We are Christian men, too,' I said, 'and camped nearby. You are welcome to share our fire.'
'Christ!' spat the monk, his anger sharp and quick. 'We know him not.'
Mystified by his denial, I asked, 'Then who do you worship?'
'Mithras!' he proclaimed triumphantly, and the remaining monks murmured the name in approval.
If this arrow was loosed to wound me, I confess it fell a good way short of the mark. For the monk's revelation so surprised me, I merely gaped at him. 'Mithras!' I cried in amazement. 'That old bull-killer departed Britain with the Romans,' I replied – which was what men like Bishop Tudno, Iltyd, and Elfodd taught, holy men and learned, every one.
'Mithras lives!' declared the man with the bell.
So saying, he lifted his hand to his shrouded face and drew aside the wrappings as if they had been a veil.
I beheld a visage ravaged by disease; the wretch's cheeks and nose had been eaten away, his chin was raw, his lips were cankered black, and on his forehead pale bone glinted beneath scab-crusted skin. There was not a thumb's-breadth of healthy flesh on him anywhere, for that which was not rotted away was as dry and cracked as the drought-blighted earth beneath our feet.
Peredur gasped. 'Lepers!'
Ignoring the young man's bad manners, I swallowed my dread and forced what I meant to be a smile of welcome. 'I have extended the hospitality of our hearth, such as it is,' I told them. 'I do not withdraw it now.'
'Fool!' said the leper, his voice a croaking whisper. 'You stand on ground sacred to Mithras.'
The wind tore aside his cloak and in the flickery light I saw the dull glint of an ancient lorica on his chest; a bronze-handled spatha hung from his hip, and a brooch at his shoulder was engraved with the image of a she-wolf and the words 'Legio XXII Augustus.'
'Hail, Mithras!' the leper hissed. 'Bow down!'
These words so alarmed me, I sained myself with the sign of the cross – something the good brothers do in times of trial when seeking comfort of the Heavenly Presence – an instinctive impulse, nothing more, yet the result was staggering.
Instantly, the sky was rent by dry lightning. A searing white flash set the heavens ablaze. Thunder rolled. I threw a hand over my eyes. When I dared look around once more, Peredur and I stood on the hilltop, the wind whipping at our cloaks, curling them about our trembling legs. We were alone. The nine lepers had vanished, leaving nothing behind but the burning stink of brimstone.
ELEVEN
Thunder cracked over our heads as if the sky itself would fall in shattered chunks upon the ground. I felt Peredur crowding close beside me. 'Devilry walks among us,' I said, steadying my voice. 'Come, we will hold vigil until morning.'
Returning to our pitiful fire, we heaped up the small supply of brush we had put by and renewed the flame, then sat huddled close to the fire and waited out the long, storm-worried night. Tallaght slept on undisturbed.
When murky daylight finally broke over the barrens, I rose and retraced my steps to the hilltop to look for signs of what had passed in the night, but the wind had done its work too well, and there were no tracks to be seen. I did, however, see the faint smudge of smoke rising from a fire some distance away to the south. Upon rousing Tallaght, we saddled the horses and began making our way to our destination as quickly as possible.
It took longer than I imagined to reach the place, and we arrived to find the camp deserted; only the smouldering ash of a fire remained. Once again Peredur proved his skill. Forbidding us to dismount, he stalked around the camp, eyes down, squatting low now and then, searching this way and that for marks that only he could see.
'There were four of them,' he announced abruptly. 'They are travelling on horseback, and – '
'Which way did they go?' Tallaght asked.
'On leaving here,' Peredur replied, 'they rode south. But -'
‘Four, you say?' interrupted Ta
llaght. 'Where did they keep the horses? I see no – '
'Tallaght!' I said sharply. 'Let the man speak.' To Peredur, I said, 'What else would you say?'
'Llenlleawg is with them,' he answered. 'Only one of the horses is wearing barred iron.'
Tallaght, gazing around the deserted camp, complained, 'For so many people, they left little sign of their passing. I am looking, but I see no such marks.'
'You are not meant to see them,' Peredur replied haughtily. 'They took pains to rub them out.'
'Oh, now you behold the invisible,' Tallaght sneered, 'and say whatever comes into your head.'
Offended by Tallaght's slur on his abilities, Peredur snapped, 'Perhaps if you were not so blinded by your own high opinion of yourself, you might – '
'Stop it!' I cried, exasperated and a little disturbed by their vexatious behaviour. 'What has come over you, Tallaght? And you, Peredur, this is not like you at all.'
'He started it,' sniffed Peredur.
Tallaght retorted hotly. 'Liar! I only said that -'
'Enough!' I roared. Both glared at me in sullen silence, overgrown children rebuked by a disapproving elder. 'Listen to you – fighting like snotty-nosed bairns, the pair of you! I will not have it.' I gave them each a frown of firm rebuke, and then, addressing myself to Peredur, said, 'Now, lead on. We will take it in turn with the horses as before.'
'I would rather go afoot,' Peredur muttered under his breath.
'Good,' I replied, 'then you can have the first stretch. Get on with you, now.'
Tallaght allowed himself a smirk at Peredur's expense, so I rounded on him. 'And you, my friend, can sift the ashes and tell us how long ago they were here.'
The young warrior opened his mouth to object, then closed it again when he saw the set of my jaw. Dismounting, he stumped to the firebed and began prodding the ashes. With a sigh, he stooped and took some into his hands, felt them, tossed them aside, and put his hand flat on the still-warm ashes. 'I say they left at dawn,' he concluded. Rising to wipe his hands on his breecs, he added defiantly: 'Unless anyone wishes to contradict me.'
'No one contradicts you, Tallaght,' I said, growing weary of the sour attitude. I gave a nod to Peredur, and we started off once more.
I wondered at the change that had come over the two young warriors. Previously they had shown themselves to be fast friends, quick to praise and slow to anger. Now, however, they seemed as quarrelsome as cats edging for dominion of the dung heap. I put the change to anxiety and the rigours of the journey, and let it go at that. Anyone as ill-fed and tired as we were might also be fretful. Even so, until they came to their former good spirits once more, I thought it best to keep them separated.
The path led us south and ever south. The sun waxed full, but carried itself shrouded in a white heat haze as on the previous day. We forced a rapid march all morning, stopping only to change riders. Just after midday, Peredur led us to a small, silt-choked pool a little way off the trail. We could not bring ourselves to drink the stuff, but the horses were thirsty enough not to mind. It was while we were waiting for them to get their fill that we noticed the smoke.
As it happened, I had been smelling it for some little time before Peredur brought it to my attention, but because my night's vigil over the campfire had left me with a cloak that stank of stale smoke, I had paid little heed to more of the same. 'We all reek of the hearth,' I replied.
'No,' he said adamantly, 'this is different.' Lifting his head, he turned slowly around in a circle, then, stretching out his hand, pointed in the direction we had been travelling. 'It is coming from that way,' he said.
We continued on, following the scent of the smoke, which grew stronger with every step. Soon we came to a ridge, whereupon I ordered my companions to dismount and we crept cautiously to the crest to observe the land below. Far off to the right, I could see the grey-green glint of the sea, flat and glimmering like an anvil under the white-hot hammer of the sun. To the left, the ridge descended in steep, rocky ledges to a rough, rubble-filled valley. And there, straight ahead, rising in a thick, black column, a pillar of smoke ascended to the heights to be carried away on the wind.
The fire itself remained out of sight behind a low hill. Signalling the others to follow me, I went down for a closer look, my companions leading the horses. Upon reaching the valley floor, we discovered the bed of a dry stream bearing the hoofprints of four horses – one with barred iron, the other three unshod – in the soft, fine dirt. It did not need Peredur's eye to see that the riders had crossed the dry stream, climbed the hill, and were now encamped beyond.
Rather than walk into a strange camp unawares, I thought it best to see what manner of men we had been following all this time. 'Stay with the horses,' I told Tallaght and, commanding Peredur to attend me, turned and made my way swiftly to the top of the hill, where, lying on my stomach, I peered over the crest and down the slope to the valley below. What I saw astonished me.
The entire valley floor had been heaped into a mound surrounded by ditches, and atop the mound stood a great fortress of stone. The Romans sometimes built in stone; however, the stronghold before me was unlike any the Legions ever raised, save in one respect only: this fortress, too, was a ruin. Its huge stones lay in tumbled heaps, the remains of high walls filling the ditches. The cracked shell of what once must have been a magnificent tower rose over the central gateway, a tree growing up through its empty middle. The rubble of a hundred dwellings lay overturned and scattered within the walls; and although the great hall itself was roofless now, several enormous beams arched over empty space, and two of its graceful walls stood untouched.
Hard by the mound to the south stood the blighted remains of a great wood; rank upon rank, trees of untold age stood leafless and dead, their black trunks and twisted limbs testifying to their tortured demise, while many more were heaped one atop the other like stout warriors fallen in battle.
At first I thought the smoke must issue from this bleak wood, but a closer look revealed that it ascended instead from the huge hearth in the centre of the ruined hall.
'Truly,' declared Peredur in an awed voice, 'giants must have built this place.'
'Perhaps,' I allowed. 'And did giants also start that fire?'
Peredur glanced at me to see if I was jesting with him, swallowed, and said, 'I see no one.'
'Then let us go down,' I replied, and instructed him to tell Tallaght to leave the horses, and for both of them to follow me and guard my back.
Warily, alert to any sight or sound, I crawled down the hillside, working slowly towards the ruined gateway yawning open like a toothless mouth in the centre of the collapsed wall. There I paused and waited until I saw that Tallaght and Peredur were behind me, and then picked my way through the opening. Upon entering the inner yard, I scrambled over the rubble and almost slid into a standing well; I looked in and saw my own self looking back, for though the well wall had fallen, there was yet water below.
It was the first clear water I had seen in many days, and my first thought was to drink – before caution convinced me that it might be better to wait until we could test it properly. 'There is water here,' I told my two shadows, and then advised, 'but I would not drink it yet.'
Moving on, I continued towards the hall. Here and there among the tumbled stones I caught the glint of sunlight shining up at me from the ground as I passed. Shoving aside the debris, I found bits of broken glass in the soil. Real glass, mind. The more I looked, the more I found. It was everywhere underfoot! Even the Romans who used the precious stuff with abandon were not so profligate as that.
The wrecked hall stood before me, thick, black smoke rising above its two intact walls. I saw no one, nor any sign that anyone had set foot, much less set fire, in the place for hundreds of years. Cautiously, carefully, I crept to the hall, then worked along the wall until I came to the end. Standing against the good wall, I peered around the corner into what had been the great hall's hearth. And there I saw a curious sight: a huge iron cage, ro
und and with a peaked roof, like a house of an earlier age.
All around this iron house, brush and branches had been piled up and set alight. As there was far more smoke than the flames themselves allowed, I supposed oil of some kind had been used to help ignite the brush. Whoever had set the fire had gone; there was no one to be seen anywhere. I signalled my two companions to join me, and was about to call out to them that once again we had lost our quarry, when I heard a groan.
See, now: I have often enough stood on the battlefield after a bloodletting to have heard the sounds wounded men make, and there was no doubt in my mind that this is what I heard – clear and unmistakable, the sound of a broken man moaning over his wounds.
'Here!' I cried. 'Someone is hurt!' Darting forward, I ran to the iron house and looked inside.
Llenlleawg lay on his side, curled in a tight ball. His head was a bloody mass, and his eyes were closed. I called to him, but could not rouse him.
'It is Llenlleawg!' I shouted to the others. 'Hurry!'
Desperately wishing for some way to carry water from the well, I threw myself upon the nearest of the fallen rooftrees instead. Tallaght and Peredur flew to my side as I lifted the ancient timber in my arms. It was good oak, strong still, and though broken in the middle, long enough to serve. Dragging the wooden beam to the cage, I began using it to push the burning brush away.
Peredur was first to reach me and added his strength to mine. Within a dozen heartbeats we had cleared a path to the cagework house.
'Get another beam!' I shouted to Tallaght, who returned carrying the other half of the timber I had found. Peredur saw what I intended, and before I could give the order, he ran to a nearby stone, gathered it up in his arms, and carried it to the firebreak we had cleared. There he threw down the stone and we drove in with our timbers – wedging them between the lowest bars of the cage and, using the stone, levering the ironwork off the ground.
Alas, the metal cage was heavy and the stone was not high enough to raise it much. But as Tallaght and I together applied our full strength to the timbers, Peredur leapt to the gap, digging with his hands, scraping away the dirt until he had succeeded in scooping out a hollow just big enough for a man.
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