by Tony Hays
Before I understood what was happening, a round object bounced on the dirt floor before me. As it rolled to a halt, I stared into the open yet blank eyes of Llynfann, my little thief.
“He died well,” David said, almost regretfully. “Much better than I would have allowed for a thief.” And then he was gone, leaving me with the head of poor Llynfann, who was now bereft of hope.
I do not know how long I sat and stared at Llynfann’s head and the ragged and bloody stump of his neck. Something about it transfixed me. Oh, I had sent men to their deaths before when I served as one of Arthur’s captains. But that was different. Those men knew that following my orders could mean death. My little thief saw it as but a lark, something to earn another coin or two for his purse, something to brag to Gareth and the other latrunculi about.
Finally, as the sun disappeared and only the campfire and a single torch outside my chamber offered any light, I looked away, back toward the door cut from rock. Only one guard stood there now. I was sorely tempted to kill him, take his sword, and rush headlong into the pack of nobles around the fire, killing as many as I could before they took me down. If Arthur’s god smiled on me, I might further disrupt their plans, perhaps even enough to stop them. After all, I would not be missed.
I stopped myself after only two steps from the door. Mariam! Mariam, my daughter! She would miss me. I would have abandoned her again. And this time no one would be there to explain why I had left her. But I could not just sit here and wait to die either. Arthur would not be helped and Llynfann would not be avenged. Elafius would have died for nothing, and, perhaps, Patrick too. And I would leave Mariam and, yes, Ygerne, alone.
This required more thought. I edged close to the door and studied the land outside. I knew that the River Axe, the “river of sorrows,” flowed out of the cave, split in two, and thence one branch south and one to the west. Stepping to my right, I looked deeper into the cave.
Just beyond my little chamber, the torches disappeared, though I saw an odd amber glow of light twenty or thirty feet down the shaft. I noticed too that my guard was not one of Lord David’s now, but one of Teilo’s, a lazy-looking oaf with a big belly and puffy lips. He looked hungry, but then he probably always looked hungry.
It might work.
Maybe.
I picked up Llynfann’s head, balanced it in my one hand, and then, with a silent plea to the shade of my little friend for forgiveness, I threw it, clipping the side of the guard’s head and bouncing off the tunnel wall opposite.
“Do you expect me to eat that?” I shouted.
He bolted around and, seeing Llynfann’s head, fell back a step or two in fright.
“Well? I am hungry, you lout! Did they not tell you that I was a wizard? That I lost this”— and I waved my half-arm at him—”to a dragon? Either find me food or I will smite you with the flame of the dragon I slew!”
With my long hair flying wildly about, my half-empty sleeve, and the crazed look in my eye, I found it amazing that he did not die of fright. He did fall back against the tunnel wall, bringing a shower of small rock down around him.
“Food, you fool!”
He licked his lips, looked at me, looked at the campfire where I could see a pig roasting, and then back to me. He summoned up some courage, waved his spear at me, and said, “Do not move.”
With that, he was gone, lumbering off to the campfire, snatching quick glances back toward me as he went to fetch food.
I wasted no time. Ducking out of the chamber, rather than bolting out of the tunnel, I turned left and went deeper, away from the world and into the realms of the witch.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I decided fifteen feet into the cave that I would not choose to live in one. It was not cold, but it was disagreeably cool. The farther in I went, the narrower the tunnel became. I glanced back behind me, but I heard no shouts of discovery. My guard may have decided to enjoy some food himself, I hoped.
Just ahead, I could see the glow, now a curious mix of amber with a bluish tint, that I had spied from my chamber. It seemed to be coming from ahead of me, from a curved opening into another chamber partially blocked with mud and rock. Dropping to my knees, I scrambled into the crevice of the opening, using my one hand to dig enough debris out that I could fit into the opening. Pathetic though the attempt, I used my half-arm to drag and push back the sludge.
In the distance, I could hear a pair of voices drawing closer, but in the strange echoes of the cave, I could not really judge how far away they were. So, I dug faster.
Progress was slow. The rocks were heavy and slippery, the mud sticky. But before I expected it, the voices were on top of me and I saw torchlight suddenly bouncing off the ceiling.
Without warning, the air was full of some kind of flying creature!
They were all around me, all over me! Hundreds of them! Making some sort of screeching sound.
I flailed about with my arm and knocked two or three to the ground. In the dim light streaming through the opening, I saw that it was some sort of ratlike creature with wings. They had faces of pure evil with devilish teeth. Bats. They were common— especially in our forests where they lived in hollow trees and frightened passersby.
From the entrance of the tunnel I could hear shouts of alarm go up. They knew I was missing now.
The screeching stopped almost as quickly as it started, and the flying creatures disappeared. I slipped my legs through the opening, praying that they would find purchase on the other side.
They did not.
With my face plastered against mud and rock, and my one poor hand barely holding on as my feet and legs swung below me, I saw the dancing torchlight moving down the tunnel, toward me.
I let go.
For a moment, it was like falling into a bluish-orange cloud and I thought how pretty it was, until I slammed into the ground and the blow stole all of my breath.
I waited in the dark for a few moments as my eyes adjusted to the eerie glow. As I caught my breath, I realized that I had landed in sand, something I thought strange in a cave.
Slowly, the chamber I had fallen into took on shape and proportion. Above me, some fifteen feet, the hole through which I had fallen looked like a window. Beside me, the River Axe flowed beneath a ceiling as high as that of any hall where I had ever feasted. I lay on a sandbank next to the river, far back into the cave from where it exited. Unless my pursuers chanced to look in the hole above, they would never find me here.
As the thought struck me, I heard the screech of the flying rats from above. The scuffling of caligae on rock drifted down as curses rang out. I had to chuckle.
Until I turned over and came face-to-face with a skull.
I scrambled back against the wall of the cave, as far as I could get from the grinning skull, its forehead shining from grains of sand catching the vague light.
He was buried up to his chest in sand. I could not tell if the sand had once covered him completely and washed away, or if it were just now layering over him. Suddenly, legends of Druids and sacrificed Romans seemed more real.
No more sounds drifted down from the small hole I had come through. They would be looking outside now, believing that I had somehow slipped past the guards and was making my way south, which I intended to do. Just not where they were looking so earnestly.
But what was David up to? And, in truth, had Arthur caught Lauhiir? What might he have told them of this conspiracy? I ground my teeth. Now was not the time to be asking such questions. Now I had to be about the task of getting back to Ynys-witrin, back to Arthur. I held a number of debts that needed to be repaid.
The River Axe, the “river of sorrows,” flowed gently, and clear, so clear that I could see nearly to the bottom. But I knew that was a trick of the eye. It was far, far deeper.
I slipped into the water, cold as it was, took a deep breath, and began to pull myself slowly along the bank, edging closer and closer to the mouth of the cave and the torchlight. Then suddenly I was in the light and
I felt naked.
But no one was even looking my way. From what little I could see, a handful of Teilo’s soldiers were scouring the steep bank across the hollow from me. But the rest, Teilo and Dochu among them, were eating and drinking by the fire. David was not to be seen, causing me to wonder again at what scheme he was up to.
My plan was to hug the bank as closely as I could, keep my head below bank level and slip past the soldiers arrayed around the campfire. Once I was out of immediate danger, I could climb onto dry land and work my way south. I knew that my path might very well take me across David’s battle lines, but I knew too that no battle had yet begun. Too many soldiers still lazed about. No urgency stirred the air. They were waiting for something, but now that David knew of Lauhiir’s troubles I could not imagine what.
I kept on, moving ever so slowly, doing my best to draw no attention my way. My legs were numbed by the cold water. Were it not for my hand edging me along, I would have been in terrible trouble.
Just as I drew abreast of the campfire, some thirty feet distant, I heard the sound of caligae stomping loudly across the ground. I froze. To move was to beg discovery.
Above me, I could hear the soldier’s heavy breathing. Seconds later I felt a warm liquid strike my head, and I smelled the putrid odor of mead-laden piss. I could not move. I could do nothing until he finished.
For a moment I thought he had drunk an entire jug, and it took every ounce of strength I could muster to keep my teeth from chattering. Finally, his flood ended, and I continued my frigid journey.
It took nearly half an hour longer to get clear of the knot of soldiers gathered around the cave. I pulled myself from the stream, though it took all my remaining strength. The chill of the stream had left my lower body with no feeling. I knew sensation would return, but it would take a little time.
Nearby was another yew tree, another reminder of Elafius. As a little life returned to my legs, I pulled and pushed myself into the shelter of the tree.
With my back against the tree, I used my one hand to knead some feeling into my legs. Pain began shooting through them and I knew that they were recovering. My stomach grumbled, and I cursed myself once again. Had I not been so interested in feeding my belly up on the meneds, I would be back in Ynys-witrin and Arthur would be prepared for this threat.
A sadness struck me, sudden and sharp. Llynfann would still be dead. His fate was sealed when I sent him off to trace the flow of goods. I slammed my fist into the ground. The little fellow had simply looked at it all as a game. Life for people like him was usually short and violent in our lands. Life for everyone was short and violent. I knew few older folk, mostly monachi or old women. So many died so young, like my Gwyneth and her sister Eleonore, and Cuneglas.
A deep sigh escaped my lungs as I realized that unless I moved, and quickly, I would die sooner rather than later myself. I cast about, looking to judge where, exactly, I had landed.
The river had fallen away a good bit from where it flowed out of the cave, from where the soldiers were gathered. I could see the glow of the campfire in the distance, but as I had guessed, the narrowness of the gorge hid it well.
A path ran alongside the river, and I could see through the bushes and shrubs that there were two guards posted down below me a spear’s throw away. More important, a horse snorted and stomped its hooves. My best chance of reaching safety was to steal the horse and ride like demons were after me, all the way down to Ynys-witrin.
The tingle in my feet told me that they had warmed enough to carry me. I cast about, looking for something to use as a weapon, but I saw nothing. I certainly could not defeat them with my charm. Indeed, in my state, I had no charm with which to assault them.
Flopping onto my belly, I crawled slowly to another tree, closer to the soldiers and with a better view. They were David’s men, but not among his best. Their tunics were dirty and their sandals untied. They held their spears loosely and seemed more suited to holding skins of wine than weapons. It puzzled me for a moment, and then I realized that this would be far behind the point of action, exactly where I would put soldiers of questionable ability.
This river path seemed seldom traveled. I knew that another lane lay on the other side of the gorge, a wider, better maintained one, no more than two hundred yards from where I lay. I could hear the sound of hooves pounding on packed earth in that direction. Soldiers were moving finally. Back toward the main campfire, I could hear shouts being raised.
Looking back to the two soldiers by the river, I saw that their attention had been drawn to the burst of activity. They watched for a few moments and then, almost in unison, slouched back against a tree, figuring, I guessed, that with the soldiers finally moving, there would be less work for them. Had David seen them, their heads would be feeding the fish in the River Axe.
Even from this distance, I could see their eyes open and close lazily until they did not open again. I waited a few more minutes.
When I was sure that they had drifted off, I stood up. On the other side of the tree, I found a broken limb big enough to make a club. The club was my last resort.
The horse was tied off to a tree about ten yards away from the guards where there was plenty of grass for it to graze. It shuffled around but seemed unconcerned by my presence as I walked up to the sleeping guards.
My mood was not one of forgiveness. I stood before one of the slovenly guards for a few seconds. For all I knew, these were the ones who had done for poor Llynfann. If they were, they killed a better man than they had ever been.
I reached down, yanked one soldier’s dagger from his belt, and plunged it in his heart. His eyes flew open and his mouth formed a perfect circle, but he never made a sound.
Withdrawing the dagger and tucking it into my belt, I trod softly around the tree. His companion was snoring still. I smiled and took up the club. With one swing, I bashed in his head with a soft thud, spattering the tree with blood. To be certain, I dropped the club and slit his throat with the dagger. I did not really think about it; I just did it.
A sudden calm had come over me. I could not feel the chill in my legs. I replaced the dagger in my belt and took up both spears from the soldiers.
With a tenderness even I did not understand, I approached the horse and let her sniff my half-arm. Whatever she sensed, it calmed her. Taking my time, I strapped the spears to her saddle, a leather contraption in those days with a thick pad running round it and cinched with leather straps underneath the horse’s belly and around in front of her breast. The spears were close enough to reach and loose enough to come free with but a tug, the way we mounted them in war.
That done, I went back to the soldiers, judged their general height and weight, and clumsily took the tunic from the one whose head I had bashed. The head blow killed him, so there had been no spray from his slit throat.
Moments later, I looked as one of David’s soldiers, though probably more disheveled than his best, except for my half-arm. It might not be noticed immediately, but if I were subjected to any real scrutiny, it would give me away. I was not the only man in Britannia missing an arm, but such a man would be seen as bad luck as a soldier.
With a smile, an idea formed. Snatching up one of the shields, I quickly mounted the horse. Once there, I lashed the shield to my half-arm. It was not a perfect disguise, but it would do. Grasping the reins in my one good hand, I turned the horse’s head, kicked her in her flanks, and headed her off toward the abbey and Arthur.
An hour later, I was still traveling slowly, following the course of the river. The sight of a soldier on a horse, riding at full gait, would attract too much attention. A few soldiers, those of Teilo and Dochu, had chanced my way, but a wave of my shield satisfied them and they kept moving. In my heart, I knew that luck had ridden on my shoulder to get even this far. Soon, if not already, the two dead soldiers would be found and word would spread that a tunic was missing. If luck, or the gods, were still with me, I would be at Arthur’s side by then.
Off to
my right, in the far distance, I could see the strong, yellow glow of torches, the gathering place I figured for the Scotti and their traitorous colleagues. I knew the area slightly, knew that a series of low hills would block the gathering from almost any watchman in the south.
As I reached the curve in the River Axe where it sweeps off to the west, I saw two hills to the south of me. My wanderings had carried me often enough in their vicinity that I could recognize them easily. I knew that if I rode due south, between them, that I could cross the marshy levels to the northwestern corner of Ynys-witrin’s range of hills.
Ahead of me, I recognized a ford across the River Axe. Turning the horse’s head, I prepared to cross and begin my run to safety. Just as I reached it, a knot of horsemen rode up, three nobles and others of their escorts. They were lesser nobles, two of Teilo’s banner and one of Dochu’s. I ducked my head and moved to ride on when I heard a shout.
“You! Soldier!”
I thought about riding on, but I knew he was shouting at me and to ignore it was simply to draw attention to myself.
Turning my horse to face them, I raised my hand in salute. “Aye, my lord.”
It was a boy lord wearing Dochu’s banner on his tunic. “Attend us. We are riding to a council of war on the little tor ahead. We may have need of you as a messenger.”
A council of war was the last place I wanted to be, but they were riding in the right direction, and I reasoned that once there, perhaps I could slip away. Councils of war brought many men together. ‘Twas easier to lose oneself in a crowd.
I fell in behind them as their horses splashed across the ford. The other soldiers were haphazardly dressed, a sign that their lords were short of funds. David’s men were, at least, arrayed uniformly. The old Roman gold mines lay within David’s lands. I wondered, for half a second, why he did not use this gold, if he had it, to bribe the Scotti. But then I realized that David was cagey, and he would not hazard his own purse on so risky an enterprise. No, he would leave that burden to others.