‘You’d best not be too tired to work today,’ Pelleas said, as we overtook Edern and Avenie who seemed still half asleep and fragile in the brisk dawn. ‘Though I won’t put you with the others. Not yet.’ I looked at him. ‘They would enjoy it too much and I’d be setting bones by the last light of the day. No, you’ll train with me and you’ll train hard. And we’ll see if your hands are as fast as your feet.’
Why Merlin had demanded that I should begin my training in weapon craft I could not say, nor did Pelleas comment further on the druid’s instructions. But I did not care about the why. All I knew was that I was going to learn my weapons like the other boys on the Mount, and that thought flooded my blood and had my limbs thrumming. I would make Belatucadrus, the Fair Shining One, the lover of battle, take notice. Mars, the Roman god of war, would wake from his slumber and hear an echo of the ancient heroes in my sword’s song. And one day I would avenge myself on my uncle and those men who had taken everything from me.
‘And another thing, lad,’ Pelleas said, interrupting my reverie, ‘the next time you feel the need to creep around in the night like a little mouse, at least have the decency to put another log on the fire on your way out.’
10
Young Bloods
I MOVED MY sword across to my left, dipping my shield and turning its edge towards my neck so as not to obstruct my sword, which I slashed diagonally into Jago’s left shoulder before he got his own shield across. He went down to one knee and I spun, catching Florien’s sword on my shield and deflecting that heavy blow down towards Florien’s left side, which exposed his right, and I thrust my sword into his shoulder and he roared with pain.
‘I’ll take him,’ Peran growled, scything his sword in a cut that would have knocked my teeth out had I not thrown my head back in time, so that I felt the severed air against my neck before I dropped to one knee and thrust my sword upward into Peran’s belly. He doubled with a grunt and I spun to take Branok’s sword on my own before it could crack against my skull, then sprang upwards, driving my shield into his shield and sending him reeling. But he came again, lunging this time, and our swords met, kissing along each other’s length as I let Branok’s momentum carry him forward, twisting my body so that his sword’s point passed my left side. And then I was behind him and he cursed as I struck him between his shoulder blades. His leather armour did its job but Branok knew he was beaten and he cursed again.
On came Melwas, grinning and thumping his sword’s hilt against the inside of his limewood shield. ‘You’re mine now, Lancelot,’ he said, then made two practice cuts through the air.
In contrast I remained still. Balanced. Centred. Breathing evenly as I raised my sword and shield towards him.
‘Put him down, Melwas!’ Clemo said.
‘Make it quick, Lancelot,’ Jowan said.
Melwas’s first attack was all power: a series of blows which I took on my shield and which jarred my arm with their ferocity, for Melwas wanted to remind me that he was bigger and stronger. Again he hammered my shield and my arm bones rattled under the impact as I led him in a wide circle, always keeping him on my left so that my shield was between us. Another thunderous blow. And another, yet I knew Melwas possessed skill as well as brute strength, and so I would not let him force me into making a rash move but instead ceded ground and kept my shield high.
Sure enough, his next attack had more craft than brawn, a mid-level strike to my right leg delivered from a semi-crouch, which I parried. Then his broad chest loomed and his sword struck down. I pulled my right leg back in time and as his sword struck the dry ground I brought my own sword down onto his exposed arm and might have broken the bone had he not bound that arm in thick felt. Nevertheless, he yelled and swung his shield into mine with enough force to send me flying.
I let go of my shield and rolled out of the path of a sword thrust which pierced the earth, then I was up on my feet and Melwas was on me, because he did not consider my hit a debilitating one even though he would likely have lost an arm had we been fighting with iron swords rather than short lengths of sharpened ash. And I ducked and twisted, parried and struck, and sweat flew from us both as the other boys cheered and bellowed.
Melwas scythed his sword at my head and, having no shield now, I brought my sword up to block. But Melwas’s attack was a feint and he reversed the blow, crouching low under his shield and scything across to take my legs below the knees. Except that my legs weren’t there. I leapt forward, striding so that the ball of my left foot hit his shield just above the iron boss and I pushed off, high enough to catch a glimpse of the sun-dappled sea before my bare feet struck the grass. I turned on landing, ducking Melwas’s desperate swipe as he spun on his haunches and came up only to find my sword at his throat.
‘You’re dead,’ I said, feeling the ire come off him like heat.
He knocked my ash sword aside with his own and spat into the grass. ‘I’d like to see you try something like that when you’re a grown man,’ he said, for at seventeen Melwas was three years older than I and nearly full grown himself. He had always been big-boned and strong but the years on the Mount had put muscle on his bulk so that of all the young men of Karrek only Agga could match him in strength.
And he might have been right; the move had worked because I was smaller and lighter and could leap a crouching man and his shield as easily as think of it. But what did that matter? I had won.
‘A rematch then?’ I proposed, and Melwas nodded and banged his sword against his shield while the others clamoured, all of them eager for the chance to fight again and survive longer this time.
‘Not today!’ Pelleas said, striding into our midst and putting himself between me and Melwas. ‘As entertaining as it was watching you ladies tickle each other beyond all decency, Benesek wants to see if any of you can throw like a man.’ He gestured across the gentle slope to where Benesek stood gripping a long spear and circling his right arm to loosen the joint.
‘A cup of mead to the one who gets his spear nearest mine,’ Benesek called, a grin stretching beneath his drooping moustaches, and so we gathered our own spears, some of the boys moving gingerly or checking bruises already blooming in their flesh, and went to join him. And for some reason I looked up past the green swathe of trees and the grey rock to the Lady’s keep which overlooked all. Gulls wheeled and cried around its heights.
‘You think she’s watching?’ Bors asked, falling into step beside me. His question took me by surprise and it was only his asking it which made me realize why I had looked up at the keep.
‘I doubt she even remembers me,’ I said, which was as good as an admission. I remembered that night long ago when Merlin had visited and I had run up to the keep and lain with Guinevere until the dawn. I had been a child with a child’s simple view of the world, but Guinevere had seemed wise beyond her years, as if she could see things that others could not. A gift which both intrigued and terrified her.
Four winters had come and gone since then and yet even now, to think of Guinevere was to tie a great ship’s knot in my chest. A knot which was only undone when I had a sword or spear in my hand and an opponent before me, for at those times I thought of nothing else but the contest.
‘Some days I cannot see my mother’s face in my mind,’ Bors said, testing the fit of his spear blade on the shaft and finding that it was a little loose. ‘Other days it’s so clear I have to stop myself reaching out to touch her.’ He shrugged as if to say that was how the mind worked when it came to such things.
Like all the boys on Karrek, Bors was otherwise alone in the world, his parents having died when he was a boy. The Lady had brought him to Karrek the summer after I had begun to learn my weapons. He had been raised in the court of King Claudas, my father’s enemy whose men had attacked that snow-filled night and brought death to my father’s people. I had expected to despise Bors on sight, but I had found that I could not. He had a broad, open, honest face and an easy smile which made it impossible to dislike him. And then to o
ur surprise we had learnt that he and I were related, for his father, King Bors of Gannes, had married my mother’s sister Evaine, and so Bors and I were cousins, though neither of us remembered ever having met as children.
‘King Claudas attacked us the summer after his victories in Benoic. My uncle died fighting. My parents were imprisoned,’ he told me some days after coming to live on the Mount, and explained how we had suffered such similar fates. Now we were firm friends and Bors was the only person on the island, other than Pelleas, who knew that I was such a fool that I still thought every day about a girl to whom I had not spoken for four years.
‘Perhaps in another four years I will have forgotten about her, too,’ I said, wanting that to be true and yet dreading the very idea of it.
‘Or you could humiliate Melwas so much that one day he’ll knock all thoughts of her out of your skull and I’ll find you much more cheerful company,’ Bors said. He had stooped to pick up a smooth rock and was now hammering it against the spearhead to make it fit more snugly on the shaft.
‘I didn’t bring it up,’ I said, loosening my own shoulder ahead of the throwing contest.
‘You didn’t have to,’ Bors said with a grin, thrusting the spear three times to make sure the head was on properly. ‘You wear it like a cloak.’ He nodded, satisfied with the repair, and tossed the rock away.
‘You haven’t met her,’ I said.
‘Maybe I should. She sounds worth the beating,’ he said, for a beating was what we could expect for trying to mix with the girls these days. ‘So long as you don’t take offence when she falls in love with me because I’m handsome, brave, cheerful and can throw a spear further than you.’
I punched him hard on the shoulder and he laughed, even though the blow was hard enough to affect his first cast. Maybe even his second.
‘When you two have finished, perhaps you would do us the honour of joining us,’ Benesek called, mocking us with a deep bow. Bors and I shared a grin and took our spears to where the other boys stood taunting each other, boasting about their own legendary past throws or announcing that the competition was as good as won, even before any of us had shown our spear blades to the sky.
In the event I did not further humiliate Melwas, who won the contest, with Agga coming second, Peran third and Bors fourth. My throw was one of my best, but I would have to put some more bulk on my shoulders before I could challenge the older boys.
At least I would not have to wait another four years to know whether or not Guinevere had forgotten about me. It turned out I would learn the answer to that the very next day.
‘Well? What do you call that?’ Pelleas asked. He was standing by the cook fire, ladling steaming pottage into his bowl. The other warriors and most of the boys were sitting cross-legged on the hay-strewn floor of the hut where we gathered each night, but I knew Pelleas was talking to me.
‘It just happened,’ I said, blowing into my bowl.
‘I never taught you that nonsense,’ Pelleas rumbled. ‘Leaping about like a salmon.’ The boys shifted to clear a path so Pelleas could sit in his usual place with his back against the wattle wall.
‘I’d have knocked your balls off if you’d tried jumping over me like that,’ Edern said, then swept a hand through the smoky air. ‘A swooping gull would have taken them on the wing.’
‘Not much of a meal though,’ Madern said, slurping from his spoon. That had the boys grinning.
‘So,’ Pelleas said, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. ‘Tomorrow one of the young ladies will leave the Mount.’ A murmur rose as the boys speculated as to which girl was leaving. My stomach sank. It had been two years since anyone had left Karrek for good and that had been a girl called Clarette, who had spent less than a year with the Lady before her father had taken her back because her mother had fallen sick and Clarette was needed to take on her mother’s responsibilities. ‘I’ll put you out of your misery,’ Pelleas said, then sipped from his spoon and winced. ‘It’s Senara.’
I remembered Senara as a broad-shouldered, brown-haired, smiling girl who had been popular with her companions. A young lady now, I thought, wondering how Guinevere must have changed too over the years.
‘Lord Evalach will come to The Edge tomorrow at midday,’ Pelleas said. ‘Evalach is a Dumnonian lord, but King Menadoc has permitted him and his small retinue to cross Cornubia.’ He waved a hand to show that none of this was important. ‘As from tomorrow, Senara will begin her new life as Lord Evalach’s betrothed, his last wife having died two winters past.’ He sipped from a cup and winced again, as though the ale was sour. ‘They’ll be married by summer’s end.’
‘And the old goat will have put a child in her belly by the time the sand martins fly south,’ Benesek said with just a touch of bitterness as he refilled his own cup.
None of this meant anything to us. We barely knew the girls these days. The glimpses we caught of them now and again were enough to fire our imaginations and fill the meal hut with crude talk for a short while, but then we would fall back to talk of weapon craft and famous battles and warriors who had won renown so that their names echoed through the years long after they had crossed to the otherworld. And because it was Senara and not Guinevere who was leaving Karrek, I fell back to my food and would have thought no more about it had I not heard my name spoken.
‘Lancelot?’ Melwas blurted. ‘Why Lancelot?’
I looked up.
‘Because I say so, that’s why,’ Pelleas told Melwas, then put his bowl down beside him and nodded to Edern, who had stood to help himself to more food. ‘Lancelot and Edern will escort the girl and I am sure I can rely on you to show Lord Evalach the proper respect, Lancelot,’ he said, eyeing me.
I nodded. I was stunned. The Edge was our name for the beach across the water, the sea-lapped fringe of the island of Britain and the south-westernmost coast of the kingdom of Cornubia. It was little more than a good arrow-flight from our own island’s northern shore. Indeed, a person could wade through the shallows at low tide, from Karrek to the mainland, with little risk of drowning, and yet I had never been to The Edge. I had never left the Mount, unless you could call swimming around it leaving, since the Lady and Pelleas had brought me here one dusk years before, when everything I had known lay in ashes or blood behind me back in Armorica beyond the Dividing Sea.
‘It’s time you lot learnt something other than how to gut a man with a spear or take his head with a dull blade and a flourish. You need to learn respect.’ Pelleas glowered at us all. ‘Responsibility. Duty.’ He tensed a moment, seeming to hold his breath. ‘Lancelot was last man standing today …’ he hoisted an eyebrow and shook his head, ‘despite hopping about like one of the painted fools in King Uther’s court.’ For a fleeting moment that pained expression darkened his face again. ‘So Lancelot’s earned the honour of escorting Senara to The Edge.’
‘But I won the spear-throwing,’ Melwas said.
Pelleas nodded. ‘And I don’t see any of your friends drinking mead tonight, Melwas,’ he said.
‘A cup of mead is a poor reward compared with escorting a lady to The Edge,’ Melwas dared, holding Pelleas’s eye.
‘And yet it seems to have loosened your tongue, lad,’ Madern said.
‘It was a good throw,’ Benesek, sitting beside Pelleas, admitted, putting his empty bowl down in the hay beside him. He had been drinking steadily all evening. ‘Stuck in the ground not three spear-lengths behind my throw,’ he said, which had Edern and Madern’s eyebrows raised, for it was said in jest that Benesek could throw a spear all the way to the otherworld if he wanted to. If you ever needed a man killing twice, just ask Benesek, they said.
Pelleas began to speak but stopped as his body seemed to tighten. He pressed a hand to his stomach and cursed under his breath.
‘Perhaps you can go next time,’ Edern told Melwas, taking up the thread which Pelleas had left hanging. ‘Sooner or later another girl will—’
‘Melwas can go tomorrow,’ Pelleas interrupted. E
dern and the other men looked at each other, not even trying to hide their surprise. Melwas himself was wide-eyed at the pronouncement.
‘But I will still escort Senara,’ Edern said.
Pelleas shook his head. ‘Lancelot and Melwas will do it. It’s time they earned their food and the roof over their heads. We won’t be here to hold their hands for ever, Edern.’ He looked at me with questioning eyes and that was the first time I noticed the white hairs amongst his big black beard. I had never thought of Pelleas getting older. With his bulk and his beard and his shaved head, he always seemed as much a part of Karrek as the rock itself, but I supposed the years that had seen my strength grow were the same years that saw his begin to wane. Not that he couldn’t have still beaten us all with sword, spear or his bare hands even then.
‘If Lancelot and Melwas can escort Senara to The Edge, and do it in such a way as not to offend Lord Evalach, then they will prove that they are not the quarrelsome, petulant young men they would have us believe.’
Bors, grinning, elbowed me in the ribs, but I was looking at Melwas and Melwas was looking at me.
‘You think you can do it?’ Pelleas asked us. ‘Without trying to kill each other or embarrassing either Senara or the Lady, or me for that matter?’
I was going to The Edge, which meant I would set foot on ground that was not Karrek Loos yn Koos. I would accompany the hounds of Annwn themselves for such an opportunity, never mind Melwas, but then I touched my iron belt buckle to ward off the evil of that thought. Perhaps Melwas thought the same, that he could put aside his hatred for me if it meant being given a man’s task and the honour of escorting Senara to a lord of Dumnonia.
‘Well?’ Pelleas said, looking at the floor and cupping a hand to his ear.
Lancelot Page 19