by Hume, M. K.
Gareth and Germanus swung into position behind their master, although Germanus rarely fought in the front line any more. Arthur prized the Frank’s clever advice and the deep well of calm common sense that always served to settle his introspective moments before the dance of death. He had believed that taking a royal wife and a new nomen would be easy, but the normal patterns of his life had been dramatically altered. Germanus had been the only adviser who had fully understood this difficult transition. Now, reunited with his wife and two sons after years of absence, Germanus had presented Arthur with a tow-headed, tall boy of ten years who had sworn an oath to serve Ida and his house forever.
The change of Arthur’s name to Ida, a convention that would be adhered to on formal occasions, had seemed a mere bagatelle in the face of the many advantages that would accrue from the treaty. As well as bringing another woman into his household, the treaty had symbolically positioned Arthur as a bulwark between Eoppa and his many enemies, including Arthur’s own nephew, King Bran of the Ordovice. Bran was now the avowed ally of Meirchion Gul, the Dragon Slayer, and he was the centre of British resistance to the Saxons, Jutes and Angles. As such, Bran must be defeated in open warfare if Arthur was to make old bones.
Arthur had scarcely bothered to consider the human implications of the choices he had made. Now, drawn into a war against the remnants of the British tribes of the north and the ever-present and vitriolic Picts, he must reflect on the ease with which everything he had won could be washed away. After all, time had defeated the Romans and the great King Artor.
When Arthur had explained the terms of Eoppa’s treaty to Sigrid, she had wept a little, but had then placed all thoughts of Eoppa’s daughter, Bearnoch, behind her. Sigrid had grown into a mature young woman with a goodly share of common sense and Arthur took comfort from the sound foundations of her love.
Her mother, Ingrid, had not been so charitable.
‘Marriage without love is difficult, Arthur. Do you think this woman will be grateful that her father has exchanged her for a kingdom?’
‘You will remain silent, Ingrid. You are overstepping your position!’ In truth he had failed to consider the feelings of his slaves when he initially made his treaty with Eoppa. ‘I agreed to marry Bearnoch, regardless of her appearance or her manners. Her father puts a high price on his daughter, just as I have put a high price on the safety of our people.’
‘How noble of you!’ Ingrid had sneered in mock admiration. ‘Such a sacrifice! And all you get from this treaty is a throne and another woman who will become your plaything. What will you do when your new wife wants to push Sigrid to one side?’
Her words were followed by a wholly feminine snort of indignation.
‘I swear to you that no one will force me to push Sigrid away and, before we marry, Lady Bearnoch will be made to understand that I will not be parted from Sigrid. From now on, Sigrid will be treated as a common law wife. As such, all offspring from the pairing have no rights in the succession, but Sigrid’s children will be free-born, and they shall be raised with any other children of mine with the proviso that they will not be able to inherit any throne that I should win in the future.’
‘But they won’t be equal to your other children,’ Ingrid snapped bitterly.
‘No, they won’t be equal. But her children will have lands and can recruit other men to follow them. And, if Sigrid bears daughters, these young women will be married to men of substance. Eoppa and I have already settled on plans to attack and destroy his enemies along our northern borders. Once they are secured, we intend to carve out a much larger kingdom than is presently the case, so the portions of wealth flowing to Sigrid and her children will grow as the fortunes of the new kingdom increase.’
But Ingrid was far from convinced. Her nostrils were still pinched and she remained white with fury.
‘Sigrid is the love of my heart, Ingrid, and the wife of my choice. Eoppa’s daughter is the wife of my ambitions, and she must be accepted if I am to achieve my destiny. You should save your pity for her.’
Then Ingrid reached out blindly to grip Arthur’s arm in apology, and the new heir to Eoppa’s kingdom lacked the will to shake off his slave’s presumptions of possession.
Months of planning followed before any part of Eoppa’s plans could be put into action. With the assistance of Eoppa’s steward, a number of abandoned Anglii farms were allocated to Dene families, who moved rapidly into the countryside. Those families who missed out on the initial allocations of established farms were gifted with parcels of arable land around Segedunum that could be cultivated until the arrival of spring. A feeling of optimism ran through the old fortress when the trading ships were put into dry docks until the following spring when trade would recommence.
As autumn dragged on, Arthur sent two longboats up the remote areas of the northern stretches of the coast where they could reconnoitre the coastal waters and obtain information on the activities of those Otadini stragglers who maintained a precarious existence in the area. The crews were also given the task of testing the attitudes of the various families of Picts who still resisted the presence of outlanders. Arthur felt secure with the progress that had been made so far, but he counted the days until he set out on the journey to Eoppa’s hall at Pons Aelius.
On the surface, Pons Aelius was a small settlement used by the Romans as a regional centre. However, its position on high ground along the Wall provided a good view of the flat lands that stretched away into the north, so it held strategic importance. Over time, the town had become very Saxon in appearance. Grass and small trees grew in every crevice of the Wall, so that the monument seemed to be wearing a ragged crown of scarlet leaves. Inside the town, the centre of habitation was dominated by a large thatched hall which was the focal point of a large compound.
Off to one side, pens for cows, pigs and a plethora of well-fed chickens gave a good indication of the wealth of the local population. As Arthur arrived with his cortege, he noted the dung-coloured walls of the buildings and the neat doors and roof trusses, but he was unimpressed, remembering the stone Roman towns of his past, such as Calleva Atrebatum, Aquae Sulis, Deva, Glevum, Vinovia, Ratae, and Verterae; all places of substance despite their eventual descent into ruination. He felt a twist of sadness in his heart for what had been lost forever.
‘I will build my fortresses in stone!’ he said in a determined voice as he rode through the gates of Eoppa’s compound. Gareth looked at his master with sharp awareness. After living cheek-by-jowl with Arthur for many years he understood Arthur’s need to have something permanent and tangible at his back.
‘Well, Gareth, let’s get these meetings over and done with,’ Arthur said in an introspective voice. In the brief months of spring and summer, Sigrid had been his constant companion and she had recently informed him that she was with child. Now Arthur was about to marry another woman for the sole purpose of laying the foundation of a new kingdom. At times, the newly christened Ida wondered where this journey into the land of his birth would take him.
Arthur had given Sigrid a necklace of perfect pearls and a ring of garnets to stop her tears, but she would have thrown them in Arthur’s face had he not apologised quickly, once he realised his error. Eventually, Sigrid took pity on him, forgave him for his coming absence and accepted the gems in the spirit in which they had been offered.
Arthur sincerely regretted that he would be absent for the birth of his son – Ingrid swore the unborn child was a boy, and she was rarely wrong.
An honour guard under the command of Eoppa’s steward appeared with well-practised speed. Willing servants led away the horses to waiting stables, while Arthur was shown to a house that smelled aromatically of newly sawn timber and pine sap. Servants were soon on hand to present jugs of beer and mead as refreshments together with sweetmeats and nuts so that Arthur and his attendants could break their fast. A separate dwelling stood only a few
spear lengths from his quarters, obviously prepared as accommodation for the jarls.
Once the Anglii attendants had left them to their rest with much bowing and deference, Arthur and his companions had an opportunity to inspect the accommodation with interest. The fragrance of the wood used in the building was satisfying to those men who had worked with timber for their whole lives, while Arthur especially liked the simple flat stones covering the floor. Although he missed the warm mosaic floors of Segedunum, he appreciated the contrast between the two styles. Other than a paved fire pit, the room had little furniture or elaborate décor save for an exceptionally fine hanging, woven and embroidered, that had been placed on the end wall.
This huge piece of art must have taken many years to complete; it depicted two enormous and heroic dragons fighting a stylised battle on a field of blue that appeared to mimic water. One of the dragons was white while the other was red. The red dragon was dominant and it reared over the exposed throat of the white dragon, whose sharp tail was wrapped around the red dragon’s belly in an attempt to disembowel its enemy.
Arthur understood the message conveyed by the hanging, for he was aware of the prophecy given to King Vortigern by Myrddion Merlinus decades earlier when the High King had been convinced to sacrifice the boy. The king had been assured by his sorcerers that the newly built tower of his fortress at Dinas Emrys would never fall if the foundations were cemented together with the blood of a demon seed. The fame of the prophecy, and the resultant collapse of the structure, had been such that the tale eventually entered the realms of myth.
Myrddion had seen the red dragon of the Britons and the white dragon of the Saxons engaged in mortal combat for dominance in Britannia. This wall hanging depicted a situation where both were equally poised on the brink of either victory or defeat.
The pair were crowned and Arthur smiled at the clever sentiments embodied in the hanging. But then, when he moved closer, a small detail hidden in the background caused him to abruptly draw in his breath.
Gareth and Germanus could see that their master was upset; the Frank was the first to realise why.
Above the darker blue of the waters and the jewels used to colour the dragons, a long and sinuous shape had been stitched into the sky. Small wings fanned out from a serpentine body with vestigial legs and vicious, sickle-shaped talons.
‘That figure represents the Ice Dragon, the Wurm, used in the sagas of the Dene Mark and Noroway,’ Germanus said quietly. ‘There are four of them, aren’t there?’
Arthur nodded. ‘The Jutes and Angles are probably aware of the tales of the Ice Dragon as well.’
The thoughts of all three men boiled with the possibilities that this hanging explained with such subtlety. Only a northerner would recognise the Wurm; but the weaver of this hanging believed that northerners would win the lands of Britannia.
‘I’d truly like to meet the artist who made this hanging, Germanus. The workmanship is exquisite. Could I also trust to your tact to see what information you can gain about Bearnoch? I want to know something of her likes and dislikes. I have a selection of gifts for her that Sigrid helped me to choose, yet I don’t even know the colour of her hair. Sigrid swears that such details are very important to women.’
‘I’d guess blond, if we were to judge her by Eoppa’s colouring,’ said Gareth.
‘So you guess! I want to know for certain, because I plan to avoid causing any offence. I want all the information about my future bride that you can glean.’
Arthur’s servants nodded their heads respectfully and departed. Left to his own devices, Arthur drank a mug of beer, ate some nuts and then wandered out into the afternoon sun to see the barracks where his men were quartered.
This building had already been equipped with sleeping pallets, furniture, and the accoutrements necessary for cooking. Ragnar was already working with a store of food provided by their hosts and he had hung many of their own supplies from the ceiling out of reach of rodents. The aroma of cooking meat permeated the air and Arthur’s mouth began to water in anticipation.
Snorri looked up from a dice game he was playing. ‘Is there anything you need of me, Arthur?’
‘Our hosts seem to have forgotten that I will need a bed to sleep in.’ He laughed then, because the constant bowing scarcely mitigated the absence of a bed, a chair or a fire. ‘I suppose the servants didn’t expect me to arrive so early.’
Snorri rose, curious about this apparent lack in Anglii hospitality, so both men returned to Arthur’s quarters. They walked into a hive of crazed activity as servants ran to move precious stools and chairs to prime positions near the fire pit which was now glowing with freshly lit flames. A bed fit for a prince had been prepared and positioned beneath the wall hanging, while a suitably regal pallet was being covered with finely woven blankets. A large coverlet of bear fur was also thrown over the luxurious bed in case of a stray draught.
Four small, fur-covered pallets were laid discreetly just outside the door to Arthur’s quarters behind a woven screen, obviously prepared for servants or guards. Meanwhile, Arthur’s travelling bags had already been unpacked and his possessions had been reverently laid out inside three huge coffers.
‘It seems our hosts are remedying their lapse,’ Snorri said loudly, for he was prepared to offend these thoughtless servants who squealed like mice whenever he glowered at them.
‘It seems so. Gods, but they’re well organised when they decide to get moving,’ Arthur replied.
Two large male slaves approached him in company with two women, one old and the other barely beyond puberty. All four wore slave collars, much like the restraint Bedwyr had worn during his youth. As one, they sank to their knees, and then lay supine on the flagged floor with their arms outstretched in abject obedience.
‘Arise!’ Arthur ordered. ‘I don’t ever require obeisances from you. A simple bow and courtesy is all that is necessary. I also insist that you look me in the eyes when I am speaking with you.’
They stood, although the older female needed a little assistance.
‘That’s better! I can speak directly to you now. What are your names?’
The slaves looked blankly at Arthur, and then at each other.
The eldest male answered in a monotone, his eyes never leaving the flagging.
‘My name is Banwyn and this man is Selwyn. We have been ordered to clean your weapons and look after your beasts. My master told me that we must provide for all of your needs while you are at Eoppa’s court. I will polish your armour, exercise your horse and assist you to dress and arm yourself. Kerryn, here, is a good cook and will see to all your food, if you so wish. Sybell has been provided to clean this room, launder your clothing and cater for all your personal needs. We are sworn to defend and support you in all things, master.’
Arthur, aghast, seated himself on the nearest stool and left Snorri to supervise the other servants as they moved in the heavy chests that held Bearnoch’s dowry. At one point, Arthur caught a glimpse of rich silks and a precious golden lamp in one of the chests before the lid was firmly closed again.
‘Mark my words, Banwyn, and listen well! My foster-father wore a slave collar before he eventually became a king, so I have no liking for slavery. I will not expect any task of you that I wouldn’t undertake myself, and I certainly don’t expect you to die for me. For now, Banwyn and Selwyn, you will assist the two women to finish their tasks. I assume you will sleep on the pallets outside the door. Is that correct?’
‘Aye, master!’ Banwyn replied in the same monotone. ‘Shall we collect our possessions now?’
‘Yes, you may. And you have my permission to move your pallets closer to the fire pit if there’s a chill in the air tonight.’
The two men bowed far too deeply and padded away on bare feet. Arthur sighed.
‘Now! Ladies! Kerryn, I’ll inform you later of what foods
I truly abhor, and those I truly enjoy. I’ll need a table and stools placed where my captains can sit whenever I need to speak to them, and I’m sure that you can persuade some of these large fellows to steal sufficient furniture for my use. I’ll need at least ten more stools. One final matter! I’ll need more screens to seal off my sleeping space.’
Kerryn looked startled but she bowed low and scurried off to order the loudest and most objectionable servant in the room to do her bidding. At least she has possibilities, Arthur thought drily, as he watched her deliver a set of terse instructions to the large man. She’ll be using my name, no doubt, to force that oaf to obey her.
Arthur turned to face the younger woman.
‘I require no bed partner, Sybell, so you are free of any concerns in that regard. Nor will I permit any of my warriors to trifle with you. You are instructed to tell me personally if any unwelcome attention comes your way. In the meantime, can you plait my hair?’
‘Aye, lord,’ she replied, her eyes huge in the pale light.
‘Good! Later then . . . but it must be done before the feast. I’ll require your help to prepare myself suitably to honour the king. Before that, however, I’ll need a bath. Is there such a luxury in the town? Or any large container that can permit me to wash my body? I’m dirty from our travels and I’d not insult your master and mistress by attending their feast unshaven and covered in grime.’
‘I don’t know if we have such a thing, my lord. But I’ll try.’
Sybell’s face was creased with concern in case she should fail in the first request from her new master.
‘If not, I need to know if there is a clean stream near here where I can bathe in private. Don’t be afraid, Sybell. How old are you, lass?’