“You’re late, but I forgive you since you’ve brought so many friends.”
Myrddin spun around at the familiar voice. Gawain smiled his greeting, leaving Myrddin unable to speak. He should be dead! Why isn’t he dead like in my dreams? Oblivious to Myrddin’s shock, Gawain leaned across Myrddin and held out a hand to Godric, who took it. He remained mute, but Myrddin managed to stutter, “You—but I saw—how can you—the king —?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Gawain said. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“The church—”
“The king didn’t go to the church.” Gawain looked from Myrddin to Godric whose mouth was opening and closing like a landed fish.
“Didn’t go?” Myrddin was unable to think coherently. “Then who—?”
Gawain shook his head at Myrddin’s evident stupidity and gave up on him. He gestured towards the entrance to the tent. “Go on. The king is waiting.”
“He’s dead!”
The shout came from the entrance to the camp, and Myrddin turned to see Deiniol riding towards them, threading his horse between fire pits. He was bent over his horse’s neck, haggard of face and worn to exhaustion. He pulled up and dismounted.
Once on the ground, he staggered towards Myrddin, wrapped his arms around his neck, and to Myrddin’s combined horror and astonishment, wept into his cloak.
“Who’s dead, Deiniol?” Myrddin grasped him by the arms and pushed him away so he could see his face. “Who’s dead?”
“Lord Cai,” Deiniol said. “At the church by the Cam River.”
“Cai is dead?” Gawain’s voice held disbelief.
Deiniol nodded. “When Lord Cai learned that his brother had passed up the chance to ally himself with his nephew, Edgar, he went in his stead. It was his right.”
Gawain stared at Deiniol. “Sweet Mary, mother of Christ!”
Deiniol continued, caught in his own misery yet still defending his lost lord. “Lord Cai had arranged to meet with Edgar in the nave of St. Cannen’s church, or so we thought. But shortly after we arrived, Saxon soldiers set upon us. Everyone is dead! Everyone but me.”
Myrddin gazed into Deiniol’s smoke-blackened face. Ordinarily he would have found some illicit pleasure, even triumph, at seeing Deiniol so unmanned by grief. Now, Myrddin stopped to take in a breath and refocus on the part of Deiniol’s story that mattered most to him. “Then King Arthur—”
“What’s this I hear about my brother?” The door to the tent swept open, and a dark head ducked through the doorway.
The sight of his king walking toward him, with Gareth and Geraint behind him, had Myrddin weaving on his feet, his hollowed limbs barely holding him upright. “I thought you’d gone to the church.”
“Of course I didn’t go,” Arthur said.
“Of course—” Lost, Myrddin swallowed the rest of his sentence.
Arthur shook his head at him. “How could I go to that meeting when you made it so clear I shouldn’t? You who have served me unswervingly for twenty years. You who had the courage to speak the truth.”
“But you didn’t listen to me. I failed.”
Geraint, coming to stand beside the king, smirked. “Only if failure means saving King Arthur’s life—and Wales.”
“What do you mean?” Myrddin said. “What has any of this to do with me?”
“My dear boy,” Arthur said. “It has everything to do with you. Cai’s increasingly desperate attempts to unseat me resulted from your continual interference in his plans. Who escaped from Rhuddlan to warn me that Edgar’s letter might not be what it seemed? Who thwarted the attack on Garth Celyn? Who told me of Cai’s treachery when no one else dared speak of it? Who related to Geraint your fears of my death? Who is possessed of the sight?”
This struck Myrddin speechless, but Geraint nodded. Arthur glanced from one to the other before continuing. “Yes. You have a friend in Geraint. If more of my men had your courage, Modred would not have been able to constrain us as he has.” Now his eyes narrowed. “I have underestimated—and you have downplayed—your abilities until now. We will not allow that error to continue another day.”
“I thought you didn’t believe me!” Myrddin recalled his desperation and the hours he and Nell had agonized over their choices, or lack thereof. “I feared for twenty years that I couldn’t avert your death. Until just now, I believed I had failed.”
“And that is my fault,” Arthur said. “That is my lapse for not seeing that one of my staunchest defenders and counselors had gone unacknowledged all these years.”
“What changed your mind?” Myrddin said.
“The evening after you left for Brecon, I dined with my brother. It was as if I saw him for the first time. Noting my attention, he turned to me with a smile that never reached his eyes. I recalled your parting words when you spoke to me of his treachery.”
“Thou practice deceit through confidence; Alas! my brother, must that be?” Myrddin said. “From a poem by St. Llywelyn.”
“I’d refused to listen to you. But you were right. Cai opposed me at every turn, even as he professed his support. My brother was the same man he’d always been, just as you were the same as you’d always been. In that moment I knew it, knew that I should be listening to you and not to my brother.”
Arthur sighed. “I informed Cai that I would not be going to meet Edgar—though not why.”
Gareth moved into the circle of men. “Cai was angry but he acquiesced, lest he reveal his duplicity. With that, I came forward to confess my part in all this—that I also knew of Cai’s treachery—that he had been working with the Saxons, specifically with Agravaine, for many months.”
“But how did Cai end up at the church when he knew it was a trap?” Myrddin said.
“It is as I told you,” Deiniol said in a loud voice, speaking for the first time since Arthur had appeared. “He sought Edgar’s support for our cause.”
“More like he thought to concoct a new plan to overthrow King Arthur,” Geraint said, “and wanted Agravaine’s help with it.”
“You have the truth of it,” Gawain said, with a half-laugh.
Myrddin was filled with a sudden compassion for the wayward lord. “Except that neither Edgar nor Agravaine went to the church to meet Cai, and instead Agravaine sent men to kill him. Cai went to the church thinking he was among friends, only to find he’d outlived his usefulness. It was an opportunity to get rid of a rival, and Agravaine took it.”
Myrddin had dreamt his own death at that church, lived again and again the moment when he realized he was going to die. Cai must have known that feeling, there at the end. Myrddin hoped that as he died, he’d repented, and that he’d understood he couldn’t trust these Saxons and should have remained loyal to his brother.
“Edgar betrayed him,” Geraint said.
“Mmmm,” Myrddin said. “Not Edgar, in truth.”
“What did you say?” Arthur peered into Myrddin’s face.
“Edgar’s initial letter to you was genuine, my lord,” Myrddin said. “Agravaine imprisoned him in Buellt Castle because of it. We released him. Nell and Huw are accompanying him north even now. Agravaine, however, is dead.”
Myrddin’s companions openly gaped at him at that.
Myrddin shrugged. “It needed doing.”
Arthur met the gazes of each of the men in his circle in turn: Geraint, Gawain, Gareth, and Myrddin, Godric, with his men crowded up close to hear the conversation better, and Deiniol, who stood a little behind Myrddin, listening but not one of them. “In one day, Modred has lost four allies: Cai, Cedric, Agravaine, and Edgar. In the morning, we will seal his loss by taking Buellt Castle from him too.” He stepped back and gestured towards his tent, indicating that the men should enter. “We have much to do before dawn.”
Myrddin, for his part, hung back to the last, coming to a halt in front of King Arthur after everyone else had entered the tent. The two men studied each other for a long moment, and then Arthur stuck out his hand to Myrddin.
For the first time in his life, Myrddin clasped forearms with his king, one man to another, before they turned together into the tent.
For once, despair was in abeyance. A potent mix of joy, awe, and relief flooded Myrddin. Arthur ap Uther … lived.
Historical Background
Historians are not in agreement as to whether or not the ‘real’ Arthur—the living, breathing, fighting human being—ever existed. The original sources for the legend of King Arthur come from a few Welsh texts. These are:
1) Y Goddodin—a Welsh poem by the 7th century poet, Aneirin, with its passing mention of Arthur. The author refers to the battle of Catraeth, fought around AD 600 and describes a warrior who “fed black ravens on the ramparts of a fortress, though he was no Arthur”. http://www.missgien.net/celtic/gododdin/poem.html
2) Gildas, a 6th century British cleric who wrote De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae (On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain). He never mentions Arthur, although he states that his own birth was in the year of the siege of Mount Badon. The fact that he does not mention Arthur, and yet is our only historian of the 6th century, is an example of why many historians suspect that King Arthur never existed. http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/gildas.html
3) Taliesin, a 6th century poet, who wrote several poems about Arthur. Including the lines: “...before the door of the gate of hell the lamp was burning. And when we went with Arthur, a splendid labour, Except seven, none returned from Caer Vedwyd.” http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/t30.html
4) Nennius – “History of the Britons” (Historia Brittonum, c. 829-30)
“Then it was, that the magnanimous Arthur, with all the kings and military force of Britain, fought against the Saxons. And though there were many more noble than himself, yet he was twelve times chosen their commander, and was as often conqueror.” http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/nennius-full.html
5) Native Welsh Tales: These connected works of Welsh mythology were named the Mabinogion in the 19th century by their first translator, Lady Charlotte Guest. These include the story of Culhwch and Olwen, in which Arthur and his men track down the thirteen treasures of Britain, and The Dream of Rhonabwy, a tale of Arthur that takes place after the Battle of Camlann (thus indicating that he survived it) and includes directions to ‘Mount Badon’ or Caer Faddon, as the Welsh call it. These stories are found in the Red Book of Hergest and/or the White Book of Rhydderch, both copied in the mid-14th century. http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/index_welsh.html
6) The Annales Cambriae. This book is a Welsh chronicle compiled no later than the 10th century AD. It consists of a series of dates, two of which mention Arthur: “Year 72, The Battle of Badon, in which Arthur carried the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ on his shoulders for three days and three nights and the Britons were victors. Year 93, The Strife of Camlann in which Arthur and Medraut fell.” The early dates of the above works indicate little or no relation to the later English/French embellishments of Arthur, which Geoffrey of Monmouth popularized. http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/annalescambriae.html
Later texts that are built on the above works, in chronological order, are:
1) William, Chaplain to Bishop Eudo of Leon – “Legend of St. Goeznovius, preface” (c. 1019)
2) William of Malmesbury - “The Deeds of the Kings of England (De Gestis Regum Anglorum)” (c. 1125)
3) Henry of Huntingdon – “History of the English” (Historia Anglorum, c. 1130)
4) The History of the Kings of Britain, by Geoffrey of Monmouth, dating to the middle 12th century. This is the beginning of the King Arthur legend as we know it. Geoffrey was born in Wales, but worked for his patron, Robert of Gloucester, who was particularly interested in legitimizing the claim of his sister (Matilda) to the English crown. Thus, the confusion of landmarks which moved Arthur from Wales to England proper, and the romanticizing of the tale, including the notion that Britain was originally conquered by Brutus, the son of the Trojan hero Aeneas, and thus Britain was ‘classical’ in origin.
5) Roman y Brut (The Romance of Brutus) is the translation of Geoffrey’s work into Anglo-Norman verse. It takes much of Geoffrey’s story and adds the round table, courtly love, and chivalry, thus transforming Arthur from a Welsh warrior to a medieval, Anglo-French knight. From this point, the Welsh Arthur is all but lost, and the Anglo/Norman/French ‘King Arthur’ is paramount.
By 1191, the monks of Glastonbury were claiming knowledge of his grave, and soon after, the link between Arthur and the Holy Grail, which Joseph of Arimathea supposedly brought there. By 1225, monks in France had written The Vulgate Cycle, telling of the Holy Grail from the death of Jesus Christ to the death of Arthur, and included the romance of Lancelot and Guinevere. This story became the standard version used throughout Europe.
Whether or not King Arthur was a real person is an either/or query. He either was or he wasn’t. Many scholars, researchers, and Arthurophile’s have strong opinions on this topic, both for and against. Because of the paucity of written records (most notably, Gildas fails to mention him), much of the academic work has come down on the side of ‘wasn’t'—or at least if Arthur was a real person, his name was not ‘Arthur’ and possibly he wasn’t even a king.
As a side note, the Welsh sources, particularly The Dream of Rhonabwy, make Modred Arthur’s nephew and foster-son, not his illegitimate son as many readers might know him. This version of events is carried through to Geoffrey of Monmouth’s version of the Arthurian story. Arthur’s illicit/incestuous relationship with his sister, Morgause or Morgan, is a later (French) addition.
For the purposes of my book The Lion of Wales series, I choose to believe that Arthur was real, that he was backed into a corner by his duplicitous nephew, Modred, and—as in the Dream of Rhonabwy—he did not die at Camlann as the Norman/French/Anglo version says, but lived to see his country securely in the hands of a worthy heir. At the same time, the world of The Lion of Wales series rests in the balance between the historical Wales of 537 AD, and the quasi-medieval Arthurian world that readers have grown to love throughout the ages.
Some points in particular where The Lion of Wales series is less than historically accurate:
1. The Christian Church was not as full blown and organized as portrayed in The Lion of Wales series. Although St. Dafydd was appointed Archbishop around this time, he did not have ecclesiastical control over Christianity throughout Wales and organized Christianity tended to center on small groups of monks/nuns or hermitages. Many people remained pagan.
2. Saxons had only just begun to fight on horseback. They rode horses, of course, but cavalry weren’t necessarily part of their repertoire. Nor the use of bows.
3. A ‘knight’ is a much later medieval notion, but it is impossible to portray Geraint, Bedwyr, Gareth, and Gawain without using the word. Forgive me.
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Thank you for reading The Lion of Wales series. The next book in the series, A Long Cloud, is available now!
A Long Cloud
King Arthur lives, but the war isn’t over, and distinguishing between friends and foes has never been more difficult. A Long Cloud takes Myrddin and Nell into England. And it is there, in the heart of Modred’s domain, that the truth about Myrddin’s parentage is finally revealed.
A Long Cloud is the fourth novella in the Lion of Wales series and is available at Amazon US and all Amazon stores.
Read on for a sample of The Good Knight, the first Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery. It is available for free at all Amazon stores.
Intrigue, suspicion, and rivalry among the royal princes casts a shadow on the court of Owain, king of north Wales…
The year is 1143 and King Owain seeks to unite his daughter in marriage with an allied king. But when the groom is murdered on the way to his wedding, the bride’s brother tasks his two best detectives—Gareth, a knight, and Gwen, the daughter of the court bard—with bringing the killer to justice.
And once blame for the murder falls on Gareth himself, Gwen must continue her
search for the truth alone, finding unlikely allies in foreign lands, and ultimately uncovering a conspiracy that will shake the political foundations of Wales.
Sample: The Good Knight
August, 1143 AD
Gwynedd (North Wales)
“Look at you, girl.”
Gwen’s father, Meilyr, tsked under his breath and brought his borrowed horse closer to her side of the path. He’d been out of sorts since early morning when he’d found his horse lame and King Anarawd and his company of soldiers had left the castle without them, refusing to wait for Meilyr to find a replacement mount. Anarawd’s men-at-arms would have provided Meilyr with the fine escort he coveted.
“You’ll have no cause for complaint once we reach Owain Gwynedd’s court.” A breeze wafted over Gwen’s face and she closed her eyes, letting her pony find his own way for a moment. “I won’t embarrass you at the wedding.”
“If you cared more for your appearance, you would have been married yourself years ago and given me grandchildren long since.”
Gwen opened her eyes, her forehead wrinkling in annoyance. “And whose fault is it that I’m unmarried?” Her fingers flexed about the reins but she forced herself to relax. Her present appearance was her own doing, even if her father found it intolerable. In her bag, she had fine clothes and ribbons to weave through her hair, but saw no point in sullying any of them on the long journey to Aber Castle.
King Owain Gwynedd’s daughter was due to marry King Anarawd in three days’ time. Owain Gwynedd had invited Gwen, her father, and her almost twelve-year old brother, Gwalchmai, to furnish the entertainment for the event, provided King Owain and her father could bridge the six years of animosity and silence that separated them. Meilyr had sung for King Owain’s father, Gruffydd; he’d practically raised King Owain’s son, Hywel. But six years was six years. No wonder her father’s temper was short.
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