The cold metal bit into his neck. David closed his eyes and braced himself for the final agonizing slash.
Just then a pleased-sounding growl went around the group who were investigating the cart. They had found the mead. The giant dropped David and strode over to join them. They pawed through the rest of the things in the cart, and a loud argument broke out. The giant cut it short with one bellowed word of command and a sharp gesture in the direction of the fort.
Thaaat’s right, you big, dumb ox, thought David, holding his breath. Take it inside. Don’t bother to look at it too closely.
One of the warriors took hold of Onion’s bridle and tried to lead him. The mule refused to budge.
“Please, be a good mule,” said David, reaching out a hand to pat the beast’s muzzle. “Don’t balk now.” Either his words or a hard smack on the rump from one of the Saxons convinced Onion. He trotted up the track to the fort.
The remaining Saxons turned back to David. Uh-oh, he thought, now I’m for it! His stomach heaved, but there wasn’t enough in it to throw up. They closed around him grinning wolfishly. Then the leader held something up. It was Beauty. He pointed to David, then to the harp and asked a question. The meaning was clear.
David nodded. “Yes. It’s mine. I play it.”
The Saxon’s grin widened. He handed the harp to David and said something to the others, who laughed in agreement. Then he prodded David with the axe, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the fort.
David drew a deep breath. They weren’t going to kill him, then. At least, not yet. Relief swept over him, and suddenly his knees began to tremble. He stumbled and nearly fell flat on his face on the muddy path. The Saxon prodded him onward, none too gently.
Seen close up, the fort was in much poorer repair than it had seemed from a distance. Its timber and stone walls were falling apart, and large gaps had opened up here and there. The buildings attached to the walls were even more dilapidated. The Saxons passed through an inner gate and into a larger compound where fires had been lit and spitted carcasses set to roast above the flames. David looked around for the captives, but at first could see no sign of them. Then he made out a small group huddled in a corner away from the fires. Was Meri among them, or was she . . . had they . .?
The Saxons unloaded the cart and drove it to the far side of the compound. They had already broached one of the kegs of mead. David tried to locate the sentries, and made out at least four. Somehow, Bear and Bedwyr would have to disable some of them so that Cai and the rest could get into the fort. It was up to him to provide a distraction so they could slip from under the cart.
His heart in his mouth, he swept a crashing chord across the harp and stepped into the firelight. Then he bowed. “How about a little dinner music, you filthy murdering brutes?” he asked pleasantly.
The Saxons gazed at him open-mouthed, and for an awful moment, David wondered if they had somehow understood what he had said. One or two of them reached for their axes, but the leader roared out an order and signalled David to go on.
David bowed again and started singing. He began with battle chants, guessing that although they wouldn’t know the words they’d get the spirit of the thing. Heads nodded and the mead went round. David noticed that horns of it were being carried to the sentries. Good.
Deciding that the meat was well-enough charred, the men began to carve off great hunks of it with their daggers. They crammed greasy slabs of it into their mouths and washed them down with gulps of mead.
An hour passed. Locked inside the ring of firelight, David couldn’t see if Bear and Bedwyr had disentangled themselves from the cart. He had to keep on singing as long as he could. On he went. Ballads, love songs, it all seemed the same to the Saxons.
On impulse, he decided to toss in an old Led Zeppelin number. It sounded pretty weird on the harp, but nobody seemed to mind. Then he tried Deep Purple. The Who. Pearl Jam. The Saxons ate it up.
One of them even reeled over and offered him a swig from his greasy drinking horn. Afraid to refuse, David took a mouthful and nearly spat it out. It was strong and rank and sickeningly sweet.
“Hey, you guys are a dream audience, y’know what I mean?” David said to the Saxon, wiping his mouth. “I mean totally out to lunch!”
The Saxon roared with laughter and slapped him so hard on the shoulder that he nearly fell down.
Luckily, the leader bawled an order and David’s admirer staggered back to the fireside.
On and on David sang. The second keg of mead was broached and drunk, and here and there warriors rolled over snoring. The leader, however, stayed alert. At last, he got up and shoved David in the direction of the other captives.
“Party’s over, is it?” asked David huskily, his voice almost gone. “Good time had by all, I hope?”
The Saxon gestured for him to put down the harp. He bound David’s wrists and ankles tightly with leather thongs, then kicked his feet out from under him, so that he fell heavily to the ground.
“Always a critic in the crowd,” muttered David to his retreating back.
He rolled over and raised his head to look at the others, who lay nearby wrapped in their cloaks. “Meri? Lady Eluned?” he whispered hoarsely.
Then Meri’s voice came softly to him through the darkness. “David! I knew it was your voice. Oh, they’ve taken you too!”
He inched himself closer. “Meri, I’m not alone,” he whispered. “Bear, Cai and the others are here . . . We’re going to set you free.”
“But that’s impossible!”
“Never mind. We found the bracelet you dropped. Are your hands still free?”
“Yes. I managed to work the knot loose.”
“Then see if you can find my right legging. I’ve hidden a dagger.”
He heard her sliding stealthily over to him. She touched the side of his face for a moment, then fumbled with the legging.
“I’ve got it!” she breathed.
“Cut my bonds, then the others’. Tell them to be ready to run. And you keep the knife. In case . . .”
He heard her draw in her breath. Then, “Yes,” she said steadily. “That would be best.”
He rolled onto his stomach and raised his wrists. In a moment he felt the knife slice through the thong that bound them, and his ankles were freed too. Then Meri, crawling on her stomach, moved away to the others. Moments later, someone else moved close beside him, and hands clutched at his sleeve.
“David?” The small voice sounded choked with tears.
“Hush, Arianrod,” he whispered. “Not so loud. You don’t want the nasties to hear you!”
She huddled closer. “I hate them,” she muttered. “They killed everyone. And they beat us, too. Because we tried to fight them.”
He put an arm tightly around her. “Shhh. I know. Be quiet now.”
She fell silent. He heard a muffled thud. Were Bear and Bedwyr about their work? He looked hastily back at the fires. They had burned down, and even the leader had rolled himself in his cloak and lain down beside the others.
A shadow detached itself from the corner of the wall and flitted noiselessly over to them. “Any time now,” Bear hissed in his ear. “Don’t let our folk head for the main gate. The Saxons will expect that. Lead them out past the corner of that shed. There’s a gap in the wall.”
“Unguarded?” asked David.
He saw the flash of white teeth as Bear grinned. “It is now,” he said. Then he was gone into the darkness.
As if from nowhere, lighted torches sailed over the wall, setting the roofs of the sheds alight. Black figures shouting battle cries poured through gaps in the walls, and spears whined into the group of sleeping men around the fire. There were shouts of pain and confusion, as the Saxons seized their weapons. David spied Bear in the thick of the fight, hewing left and right with his sword. Cai, his ruddy hair backlit by the flames, was attacking two confused Saxons at once.
And suddenly, David was back in his old nightmare. The leaping flames, the ru
nning figures, the screams, the noise. It was the scene he’d been dreaming all his life. He froze. But how could he have a memory of this? Dazed, he passed a hand over his eyes.
Then Meri’s voice pierced his numbness. “Let’s get everybody out!” she shouted. “Help Eluned. She’s hurt.”
“This way,” David shouted back, springing to life. “Not the gate!” Half-carrying Lady Eluned, he led them past the shed Bear had pointed out. It was on fire, and just as they passed it, the roof collapsed in a shower of sparks. Around it, and past, and there was the gap. He heard shouts close behind them and whirled. A Saxon warrior was bearing down on them, sword raised.
“Arianrod,” David cried, turning back, “lead the others through. Head for the woods!”
She nodded and scampered through. David passed Eluned through the gap to two of the boys and realized Meri wasn’t behind him.
He turned to face the Saxon. Then, “Meri, no!” he screamed.
She was face to face with the warrior. Slightly crouched, she was circling him, dagger in hand. Almost lazily, he struck at her with his axe, and blood poured down from her shoulder. Even so, she sprang forward and slashed him with the dagger, then danced back out of reach. With a roar of rage, he bore down on her, raising the axe.
David looked around frantically for a weapon. He seized a smouldering timber, and with a strength he’d never known he possessed, he rushed forward and swung at the Saxon’s legs, catching him behind the knees. The warrior’s legs buckled, and he staggered forward. Quick as a cat, Meri leapt around him and sank the dagger into his back. As he groaned and tried to turn, she jerked the blade out and stabbed him again. He collapsed and lay still.
Meri stood over the body gasping and trembling, still holding the bloody dagger. She looked at it, then at David, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’ve never . . . But I had to . . . Oh, David!” she said.
“Let’s get out of here,” shouted David. Seizing her by the wrist, he dragged her to the gap in the wall and shoved her through. He was about to follow himself when he remembered.
Beauty! He’d left the harp behind.
“Go on to the others. They’re in the woods!” he shouted to Meri. Then he turned and raced back into his nightmare.
Always, when he had dreamed it, he’d known he was looking for something. Something precious, something he had to find. But the flames and smoke and darkness of the dream had always hidden it from him. And when he’d awakened, he could never remember what it was he had looked for so desperately. Now he knew.
The whole fort was ablaze around him, as the timbers in the walls caught fire from the burning sheds. The figures of fighting warriors were silhouetted against the flames. At this distance, he couldn’t tell who was who, or who was winning. Bear and the others would have to get out soon. They were too few to hold the Saxons for long.
At last, he found the corner. Beauty lay where he had left it, its golden wood reflecting the flames all around. He seized it with a sob of relief. Clutching it, he raced back toward the wall. A figure loomed up ahead of him in the smoke, and he couldn’t see whether it was friend or foe. Then another roof collapsed with a roar, and a hot gust of air tore a rent in the smoke. David found himself face to face with the Saxon leader.
There wasn’t even time to be afraid. He saw the gleam of a red sword descending and felt a stunning blow. As he fell, his hand, still clutching Beauty, tore the strings asunder in one last dissonant chord. He spun down into darkness.
FIFTEEN
Light. Light so bright it hurt his eyes. A faint murmur of voices. And somewhere an odd mechanical beep. He let his eyelids close and sank back into the dark.
It was night when he awoke again. The light was dimmer, and this time he managed to keep his eyes open. His head hurt. Funny, he thought he’d got over that long ago. Branwyn’s draughts . . . His left leg throbbed fiercely, too. It seemed to be tied up on some kind of pulley. And his left arm was fastened to some kind of board. There was a needle stuck in it, with a tube leading out. He shifted his head slightly. Behind him was a bank of instruments, monitor lights blinking red and green . . . That didn’t make sense.
“Bear! Bedwyr!” he called. Had they got away? Was Meri safe with the others? He tried to sit up, but found he couldn’t move.
“None of that now.” A head crowned with a white cap shaped like a muffin popped up over the side of the bed. Wide brown eyes looked down. “You’ve been out for quite a while, lad. Had us all worried, you did.”
He squinted as she came into focus. She was small, round as a ball, and her nose was as speckled with freckles as a plover’s egg. At first, he thought she was very young, but then he noticed tiny laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, and threads of grey in her brown hair.
She gave him a crooked grin. “What an expression! I’m not that bad to look at, surely?” she joked.
“No, I . . .” He looked around desperately. “It’s just that I don’t remember . . .”
“Where you are? In Caerleon, now. Though that’s not where they found you, I’m told. Somewhere away up-country it was. Some daft stunt with a motorcycle.”
“It can’t be! I was here, or at least near here! I was . . .” He paused, then asked, “What date is it, nurse?”
She raised her eyebrows. “March 28. You needn’t ask the year. You haven’t been out that long!” she added, and grinned again. “And you can call me Puddy. That’s my name.”
“March 28? Puddy? That’s a funny name,” said David woozily.
“It’s Welsh, young man, and I’m proud of it,” she snapped. Then she added, “Now stop thrashing about. If you pull out the drip needle, Matron will have a fit. Anyone would think you weren’t glad to be awake again!”
David lay still, his thoughts racing.
“I’m turning the lights down. Now you just try to rest until morning, do you hear?” she went on. “I’ll be phoning your father. Poor man, it’s relieved he’ll be. He’s been here night and day, you know, until we made him go home to rest. We didn’t need the two of you to look after!”
The light grew dimmer. David closed his eyes. He was back, then. But she’d said March 28. That was only a week or so after the day he’d gone off. But months had passed in Prydein! It had been early summer when the Saxons had attacked, and they had set off on their mad pursuit.
Nobody will believe me. The thought made the bottom drop out of his stomach. They’ll say I was just dreaming. Or that I’m crazy.
But I’m not crazy. I’m not! And it wasn’t just a dream. Couldn’t be! I’ve never dreamed anything like that before . . .
Haven’t you? It was almost as though another voice spoke inside him. What about your old nightmare? The flames, the figures running. You dreamed that, didn’t you? For years and years. And now you know where it came from. It’s all part of the same story. You’ve just gotten crazier. Even the pain you felt there was no more than the echo of your pain here. It was none of it real, you dreamed all of it.
“No!” he shouted. “No! I couldn’t have! Not Meri. Not Bear!”
“I thought I told you to rest!” Puddy was back at his bedside. “We can’t have you disturbing the other patients,” she told him crossly. “If you can’t sleep, we’ll give you a nice big jab of something to make you. Is that what you want?”
“No,” whispered David. “No. I’ll try to sleep.”
“See that you do,” she said. But she placed a cool hand on his forehead for a moment before she left him.
His father came in the morning. David saw that his face was lined with fatigue, his eyes rimmed with dark shadows. It was like looking at a stranger. For a long moment, they eyed each other warily.
Then David began, “I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me. I’ve really done it this time . . .”
“No, wait. There’s something I have to say.” His father’s words cut sharply across his. “I’d . . . I’d better say it now before everything . . . goes wrong between us again,” he added. He turned
toward the window for a moment, as though looking for a way out, then turned back. “I blame myself for what happened. The quarrel, I mean. Maybe even the accident. I pushed you too hard. I guess that’s a bad habit of mine.”
He pulled a chair closer to the side of the bed. Sat down, leaned forward. “I’ve had plenty of time to think, this last week. Not knowing whether you’d ever wake up. Or whether, if you did, it would be with your mind . . . damaged.” He paused, then went on with a rush. “So I just want to say that you don’t have to stay with me. I guess it was a crazy idea all along. Anyway, I was wrong to force you to come with me, to leave what you wanted to do for what I wanted to do. I have to stay, of course, until the end of the school year. But you can go back as soon as you’re well enough. I’ve called your aunt Laura, and she’ll put you up. Then, when I come back, maybe we can work out what to do about the future.”
Leave! The thought made David dizzy. “I don’t want . . . I might want to stay,” he said.
“You don’t have to say that,” his father began.
“I’m not thinking about you,” said David. “Not really. I just . . . I need time to sort some things out. And it might be easier here.”
Puddy appeared and tapped her watch meaningfully. “You weren’t supposed to stay long this first time, Mr. Baird. And you weren’t supposed to do so much talking,” she said sternly. “Now, you do remember, you promised. Matron is quite strict . . .”
“Sorry. I guess I got carried away.” David’s father stood up awkwardly and went to the door. “Try to rest,” he said, looking back. “I’ll come when they’ll let me.”
David nodded.
“Now,” said the little nurse. She cocked her head and stood looking down at him, arms akimbo. “Bath time, is it?”
“Oh, cripes,” said David.
The days soon fell into a dreary routine. He couldn’t leave the hospital until his leg, which was badly broken, was out of traction. He couldn’t even leave his bed. It was bad enough to be at the mercy of a bossy nurse, he told himself. But to have to use a bedpan and have her wipe his bottom!
The Minstrel Boy Page 11