The Killing Way

by Anthony Hays

  The map was accurate, and I wondered at my cousin’s ability to draw such a thing. Her marks showed a stream crossing our path just to the south. If we followed the stream east, it would take us to a larger stream and following that would then take us to the waterfall. But the distance was still far and I was more tired than I would admit.

  Almost no breeze stirred beneath the trees. I turned to caution Kay to step carefully and stay away from the small limbs littering the forest floor. As I did so, I stepped on one, cracking it in half, the sound shattering the quiet.

  “Malgwyn!” Kay hissed. “Be silent! If anyone else is abroad in these woods, they will surely hear you.”

  I wanted to laugh, but our quest was too serious and I could not summon up the humor.

  Just then I felt the point of a knife pushing my tunic.

  And I smelled sour, honey-mead breath.

  What have we here, Llynfann?” the voice in my ear said aloud.

  I started to twist my head to look, but the knife point dug deeper.

  “Ahh, ahh, ah. Just you be telling us what you are doing, skulking about in these woods at night.”

  Latrunculii. Bandits. They had found us, almost before we had begun.

  “Mine is a pretty one, Padern. How about yours?”

  “He has a pretty tunic. I think it should fit me very well. Should we kill them here?”

  “No. Let us take them back to the others. They will enjoy the sport.”

  Any other time, Kay and I would have made short work of the rogues, but they had so taken us by surprise that we were helpless. To resist now meant the death of one or both of us. Alive, we still had a chance. The pair relieved us of our weapons and bound Kay’s hands with strips of dirty wool. As for me, they took a long leather strap and bound my arm to my side, pulling it so tight, the leather bit into my skin.

  “Come,” one barked.

  We stumbled and staggered off the trail and headed north into the densest part of the forest. I became convinced that our captors could see in the dark, and behind me I could hear Kay curse as he tripped on a rock.

  “Malgwyn,” Kay whispered. “We have no time to spare.”

  “We had better take time, my old friend. Or else we will surely have no time.”

  On we went, through the dark forest, tripping on tree roots and banging our shins on rocks as we fell. Our captors would laugh and yank us back to our feet, and on we would go. After an eternity, we rounded a mass of fallen trees and walked into the daylight, or so it seemed.

  Their camp was cleverly fashioned. What appeared in the dark to be a mass of fallen, tangled trees was in reality a log enclosure, camouflaged on three sides and built against a rock wall. I saw immediately that it could hold thirty or forty men and their belongings.

  The heat of their fire, banked against and reflected off the rocks, kept the hideaway warm against the cool April breeze. An ingenious layer of branches and leaves high above the fire dispersed the smoke to keep it from being seen afar. A wanderer might smell the smoke and never suspect its origin.

  A crowd of about fifteen men sat in a half-circle around the fire. Some gnawed on chicken legs, tossing them to the side as they finished stripping the meat. A pig roasted on a spit. They were dressed in an assortment of dirty woad-dyed tunics, but all had daggers at their belt, and their beards reached down to their waists. One man was better dressed than the others. His tunic looked to be linen, dyed red.

  I laughed at the sight.

  The bandits looked up to see who had disturbed their feast. Kay looked at me as if I were mad.

  The man of the red tunic, apparently the leader, squinted into the night, away from the glare of the fire. A grin broke across his face. “What have we here?”

  “We found them in the forest, Gareth. I know we should have killed them, but you said always to be on the lookout for a one-armed man.”

  The one called Gareth rose and sauntered over to us. “Well, he does sport but one arm. Aye, but the man I knew would never dress so fine as this,” he said, tugging at my tunic. “Yet I do think I have smelled him before.”

  “That is your own rotten breath, you rogue,” I answered without a hint of fear in my voice.

  “Malgwyn!” Kay hissed.

  Our captors laughed heartily. “You spent too much time with the brothers at Ynys-witrin, Malgwyn. There was a time when you did not talk so pretty.” The pressure of the knife point subsided.

  “And you once did not smell as bold.”

  Gareth was older than the rest, with gray streaking his hair and a long, thick beard.

  “You know these men?” Kay asked.

  “Aye. This one,” and I nodded toward Gareth, “stands before you only because of me. And,” I said to the now grinning bandit, “that is something you should hasten to remember.”

  “How come you dressed as a noble, Malgwyn? The last I heard of you, you were drinking and whoring yourself to death.”

  “ ’Twas true. But now I am in the service of Lord Arthur.” I bowed as nobly as my bindings allowed.

  At Gareth’s signal his men untied us. He motioned for us to sit on logs situated around the fire. “You would be Caius, he that is known as Kay.”

  Kay nodded. “You know much of us.”

  “We make it our business to know all that we can,” Gareth grumped. “We survive by our wits, not by our station in life.” The old bandit eyed me with a grin. “And you, Malgwyn, you serve Arthur? If my memory has not abandoned me, you once hated him with a passion.”

  “Time changes many things, Gareth.”

  “Malgwyn! Who is this?” Kay was confused and rightly so.

  “At Ynys-witrin, as I recovered from my wound, a young initiate, a boy, was found foully abused and murdered. Gareth here picked the same night to raid the abbot’s stores. He was taken, and he was blamed for the boy’s death.”

  “But Malgwyn,” Gareth continued for me, “was not satisfied with that. He poked and prodded about the edges until he proved that one of the brothers of the monastery had done the foul deed. In the confusion that followed, the door to the chamber where I was held was opened and I gained my freedom.” He stopped and smiled at me. “I have often wondered who unlocked that door.”

  I shrugged. “ ’Twas an old door. I am sure that the wood was rotten.”

  “I had heard of this from Arthur,” Kay said, “but I knew not the names of those involved.”

  “Coroticus put about that Gareth had, in truth, done the deed. Since he was but a thief anyway, and had escaped, he could hardly argue. That allowed Coroticus to shield the monastery from the scandal.”

  “And what of the brother?”

  “He hung himself in his cell, I am told.”

  “You sound as though you do not believe it,” Kay said.

  “I believe only what I can prove to be so,” I responded, which was not quite the truth. I had no need to prove what happened to Brother Aneirin. He did not hang himself. I strangled him to death myself in a fight after I confronted him with his guilt. Aneirin was a vile and despicable creature, and it took no great effort to string him up from one of the hut’s support beams. Coroticus believed that claiming he took his own life was a better lesson for the other brothers. And he wished no blame attached to me.

  Gareth did not believe me, and neither did Kay, but none of that mattered. Only our mission mattered. “Are you here because of the killings at Castellum Arturius?”

  “Aye. Arthur has charged me with sorting them out.”

  “You seek Accolon then, at the cave?”

  “You know of this?”

  Gareth grinned. “Nothing happens in this forest that I do not know of. We saw him sneaking through. He was drunk and made much noise. Since he had nothing we wanted, we let him pass. The only puzzle is why he hides in the cave. And why the others seek him.”

  “Others?” Kay queried.

  “A band of men has been scouring the countryside for him, but quietly, as if they want no one to know of the
ir presence.”

  Vortimer, I thought. It must be Vortimer, but why would he be quiet? He stood to gain the most if Arthur were discredited. Gareth’s men would have more to fear from a troop of Vortimer’s allies than they from him. I myself had set patrols out looking for the wayward soldier.

  “Who are they?”

  “Men who are careful not to be seen, but even the most careful of men leave signs behind. They have not yet found Accolon, and because we did not understand what was going on, we made certain that they did not.”

  “You act with a decency I would not expect from a thief,” Kay said.

  “He was not always a thief,” I countered. “Just as I was not always a one-armed scribe. But that is a tale for another day. Can you provide us with a guide, Gareth?”

  “Stay with us and eat from our table, Malgwyn. No need for hurry. Accolon is going nowhere.”

  “Not so. I must find Accolon and take him back to Arthur’s castle by the setting sun on tomorrow’s eve; the matter must be resolved or lives will be lost.” I quickly explained about Merlin.

  “As you will.” Plucking bits of greasy yellow chicken dangling from his gray-flecked beard, he motioned to the one called Llynfann. “This one will take you. He knows the forest better than anyone.”

  “My thanks, Gareth. Your help will not go unnoticed.” Kay was so sincere.

  The old rogue winked at me and reached to tear another chicken leg from a roasting bird. “Tell Arthur that if he is a good fellow, I might let him pretend to be king for a while.”

  With Kay rendered speechless, I grabbed his arm and shoved him away from the fire and after Llynfann into the darkness.

  “Be silent, lads,” the bandit said. “There are but two hours until the dawning. Our danger heightens in daylight. Gareth spoke truly about the band. They move more as warriors than latrunculii.”

  “And how is that?” I asked, hearing a bullfrog in the distance and knowing a small pool of water was nearby. These woods were full of little streams and pools and the frogs were plentiful around them. Sometimes, the pools resided in little glens with thick grass, almost little gardens tucked away in the great forest. Other times they were dark and dank, a part of the black forest, often fed by underground springs running underfoot.

  “They lack the stealth that a bandit must have. This bunch is crafty; they are woodsmen, but they make too much noise when they move. For many days they made their camp just over there.” He pointed into the blackness of the forest.

  “Keep going,” I commanded, mystified by this latest revelation. For many days? “Time is wasting.”

  Tiny slivers of light were filtering through the trees by the time we reached the glen of the waterfall. They cast a strange, greenish glow in the awakening forest. The chirp of birds brightened the half-light of dawn as we crept through the underbrush, small branches poking me in the face.

  The rush of the falling water could be heard loudly, drowning out the birds. The falls, majestic and tall, pointed slightly to our left, and the continuing stream lay at the foot of a sheer gray rock wall. To our far right, I could see a faint path winding through some large rocks, broken by patches of grass and weeds, the hill rising slowly toward the top of the falls. A fog lay across the glen in between, but even through that silky, silver haze, I could see that it was a beautiful place indeed.

  “To get to the cave, you must go up the path to the top of the hill and then look for a break in the rocks, no wider than a man’s waist,” Llynfann told us. “That is the start of the path down to the cave. It is steep and narrow. The gods make your journey a safe one.” He turned to disappear into the woods, but Kay caught him by the arm.

  “You are not coming with us?”

  The little thief grinned. “ ’Tis daylight. I have to lighten the loads of travelers.” With that, he was gone, on the run now, and the forest swallowed him up.

  Kay started forward, across the glen to the little knoll, but I caught him by the shoulder and held him. My chest burned from breathing the heavy, damp air. My days of drinking and wenching were costing me dearly.

  “If this wandering band is looking for Accolon too, we must be careful not to lead them there. Let us follow the line of the trees and scout the area before we dash headlong for the path.”

  We crept just inside the forest, in the still shadows of breaking morn. All was quiet across the glade. I studied the glen, glistening with the silver of morning dew. That’s when I saw it, or rather saw them—eight trails wriggling like snakes through the sheen of dew.

  I shivered but not from the chill of the air. My friend the bandit had been wrong. The wandering band of which Gareth spoke had found Accolon and encircled him. By this time they might have even killed him. I needed to know.

  I touched Kay on the arm and held a finger to my lips as he turned. I nodded my head toward the trails, then pointed upward.

  Quickly and quietly, Kay slipped his sword from his belt, handed it to me, and mounted a nearby tree. The only sounds he made were those of his leather belt and boots scraping against tree bark.

  I waited nervously while Kay surveyed the glen from his perch. A slight breeze slipped out of the southwest and stirred the treetops. Too much mist and water clouded the entrance to the cave, and I could not see if Accolon was still there. If he was smart and watchful, he would secrete himself in some way where he could see but not be seen.

  As the minutes passed, I grew impatient. An idea was growing in my head, but I needed to know how the land lay and if Kay could see Accolon. If Accolon knew what I believed he did, then he had the key to the entire matter locked inside his memories. For if those chasing him weren’t of the castle, then he might truly be innocent, or at least he had knowledge they feared he would divulge.

  “There are indeed eight.”

  I nearly jumped. Kay had descended and caught me lost in my thoughts. I knew then that I was tired from the night before, too tired to be traipsing about the forest and hunting murderers.

  “They lie in a line and carry bows.”

  “Bows? They are not soldiers. No one uses bows but for hunting.” An image flashed in my head, and I remembered the arrow in the soldier’s back.

  Kay shrugged. “They say in Gaul that the Saxons use bows in battle.”

  “Perhaps. I have an idea, if you are willing.”

  “What ever you counsel.”

  I explained my plan and Kay agreed to it readily. It required more effort on his part, but he knew my strength was limited. With only a bit of sleep since Arthur threw me into this intrigue, I was finding it difficult to move. A fog, as thick as that which often blanketed our land, clouded my mind.

  We separated, with Kay splitting off to our left, toward the stream, and I to the right, toward the path up to the cave. I rested while Kay moved into position. I could only pray to Arthur’s God that my plan would work. Looking up toward the cave, I could just barely make out its dark, sinister presence behind the gray mist of the falls.

  The seconds passed like hours, and then I heard a horrendous bellow from the far side of the glen, near unto the stream. “Accolon! Quickly, this way! My troop is just through these woods.”

  Almost immediately, as I waited, I saw heads pop up from the deep grass of the glen, and I heard the babble of conversation, but I was too far away to understand.

  “Here, Accolon! Here!”

  Kay was playing his part well, drawing Accolon’s pursuers away from the cave.

  With all the heads of the pursuers facing Kay, I started at a quick trot up the path to the cave.

  “Now! Accolon! Come with me! My troop is through here!”

  I kept an eye on the band and they moved off toward Kay’s voice. I picked up my pace. In the gray/black of the cave, I could see a darker image moving about. Accolon. Trying to find out what was happening.

  I was now high enough to see the mysterious band plainly, pulling away from the glen and disappearing into the forest. I strained to discern their identities, but
their clothing was rough peasant gear, and I was too far away to see their faces.

  As the forest swallowed them, I made it to the top of the falls and easily found the path down to the cave.

  “Accolon!” I hissed, trying with all my might to make myself heard above the roar of the water, yet praying that our foes below did not hear me as well. Squeezed between two massive rocks, I craned my head to see better into the cave.

  “Malgwyn? Is that you?” His head popped around from behind the boulder.

  “Aye.”

  “How many did you bring with you?”

  “Only Kay. He is drawing off the others. Please let me come down and speak to you.”

  “Hurry! Quickly, before they see you.”

  I slipped and slid down the mist-slick rocks and nearly fell in the mud but for the arms of a very frantic Accolon. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and they were the eyes not of a man but of a trapped animal.

  “Malgwyn, the lady got my message to you?”

  “Aye. You have certainly attracted a great crowd in this hideaway.”

  He stumbled backward and fell against the wall of the cave. “Malgwyn. I prayed that you would come. I know that we are not close, but I think we have both traveled a difficult road.”

  I chuckled. “That we have. What have you to tell me? Kay will lead them on a merry chase, but sooner or later, they will detect the deception. We must take you by then to the safety of the castle.”

  Accolon shook his head. “No, the castle is not safe for me. Indeed, there are more enemies there than here.”

  “How am I to protect you, Accolon? You cannot stay here. You cannot go to the castle. Where then?”

  The old soldier was bleary-eyed and worn. He frowned and scratched his unruly beard. “Can you promise Arthur’s protection?”

  “Aye. I have Arthur’s and Ambrosius’s authority in this matter. You shall be safeguarded at the risk of my own life.”

  Furtively glancing about from side to side, he seemed torn for an answer. Finally, his shoulders slumped. “Then we will go.”