by Simon Lister
Morgund and Ceinwen helped Mar’h to a seat at the table and stood there unwilling to leave him.
‘Go!’ Arthur said and they reluctantly joined the others walking to the far end of the barn.
Arthur sat at the table with Ablach, Mar’h and the woman opposite him.
‘What is your name?’ Arthur asked her.
‘Esa,’ she replied with a glance at Ablach.
‘And you recognise this man as the one who raped you during a raid?’
‘I’d never forget the bastard. His face has haunted me for years,’ Esa said and spat in Mar’h’s face.
Arthur sat back and looked at Mar’h. His face was bloodied and bruised and his hooked nose looked broken. His wiry frame looked thin and brittle and he had not raised his eyes from the floor since Arthur had entered the barn.
‘Look at me, Mar’h,’ he said and Mar’h at last raised his eyes to Arthur’s.
A silence fell on the table as Arthur’s gray eyes lost their focus and his thoughts seemed to drift away from the present. The only sound was Esa’s hard breathing as Arthur’s sightless gaze shifted from one to the other opposite him.
Suddenly he leant forward staring keenly at Esa who recoiled from him.
‘Join the others, Esa,’ Arthur said to her.
She looked at Ablach who nodded without taking his eyes from Arthur.
‘She was the one you raped, wasn’t she Mar’h?’ Arthur asked.
‘Yes,’ Mar’h replied quietly.
‘Then kill him and have done with it!’ Ablach said standing up.
‘Sit down,’ Arthur said coldly, ‘and I’ll tell you what you already know to be the truth.’
Ablach sat down uncertainly, rocking the upturned trough as he did so.
‘Seventeen or eighteen years ago Mar’h was in a raid on one of your villages. Young as he was then, and led by a cur of a man, he did what you have done many times, Ablach. He took one of the young women as spoils of the raid. It was Esa. Mar’h didn’t kill her but he did leave her with child. When she realised she was with child from the rape she went to you, didn’t she Ablach?’
Ablach sat silently staring at Arthur.
‘Rather than have her outcast as a bearer of the child of a raider you decided to have her as another of your wives. Perhaps it was an act of kindness to save her but you never touched her and she bore no further children. Perhaps you saw only the chance to take a pregnant woman for a wife and claim the child as your own. A child to carry your ambitions. A child none of your other wives could produce. She is Gwyna’s mother but Gwyna is not your daughter. She is Mar’h’s daughter.’
Mar’h stared wildly at Arthur, ‘Gwyna? My daughter?’ he croaked.
‘Yes. Is it not so, Ablach?’
‘Gods, I didn’t believe it but the stories are true aren’t they? How could you know what happened if not for some ungodly curse from Merdynn? But it makes no difference! He still raped her and should die for it!’
‘If he raped Esa, which he did, then Gwyna must be his daughter, which she is. That means she is not your daughter as you’ve claimed for seventeen years. If this were known how would Gwyna feel to be a rape-child? How would you look having claimed Gwyna as your only descendent for all these years? More importantly, why would I marry Mar’h’s daughter? How would it serve your purpose for me to marry the bastard daughter of Mar’h?’
Ablach spat on the floor and his fists clenched and unclenched.
‘If you pursue this claim of rape then I will execute Mar’h and reveal what you and Esa already know to be true, just whose daughter Gwyna really is. I certainly won’t marry her, you will have no heir to your tribe and you will be no nearer the centre of power in this land.
‘If Esa has made some mistake and it wasn’t Mar’h who raped her then Gwyna can’t be his daughter and therefore must be yours and my marrying her will bring about the alliance you want.
‘The choice is yours.’
Ablach’s face had reddened in fury, ‘Is this the justice of the southern lands?’ he roared into Arthur’s face.
Arthur pushed him back into his chair and stood leaning across the table until his face was inches from Ablach’s and he spoke in a voice that was cold and clear,
‘You care nothing for justice, Ablach, your false indignation disgusts me. You’ve committed far more crimes far more frequently and of a far worse nature than Mar’h’s and you’ve done precious little to counterbalance them. Justice would have seen you dead many years ago.
‘You will tell Esa she is mistaken and take her away from here. I will marry your daughter, Gwyna, at the Imbolc festival, in the Great Hall at Caer Sulis when the peoples and council have returned from the West. We will hold a feast in Caer Sulis in ten hours time to celebrate the forthcoming union between the southern and northern tribes.
‘Bring your clans here at Imbolc and bring your warriors for we will make for the Causeway directly after. If you come to stand by us then your families will have safe passage on the ships across the Western Seas when the winter comes. Fail me and I’ll make sure you and all your people burn with Britain.’
Arthur stood up and freed Mar’h from his chains then helped him to walk back to the entrance of the barn leaving Ablach sitting at the upturned trough staring after them. As they left the barn and rejoined the war band they heard Esa screaming in rage at the husband who had once given her back the life that Mar’h had stolen seventeen years ago.
*
Ten hours later the feast was held in the Great Hall of Caer Sulis. Torches and fires brightly lit the square outside the hall. Hide awnings had been hung between poles to keep the snow off the trestles where the townsfolk feasted the proposed marriage of Arthur to the daughter of the Uathach chieftain. Most people thought it was just simple political expediency to cement the new treaty between the northern and southern tribes. Arthur’s warriors saw it much the same way and if it meant that the Uathach would stand by them against the Adren then they were content with that. The Mercians talked openly that it was what King Maldred should have done rather than turn against his own peoples.
The townsfolk who had gathered outside the hall, young and old, felt uncertain. They had heard first-hand from the survivors of Eald about the Adren onslaught. Then they had seen the Uathach raiders welcomed into the very heart of Caer Sulis by their king and their fears of the Adren had diminished with the sudden arrival of the hated raiders. The king had told them that Arthur had died in the Shadow Lands yet he had returned, some said as an avenging ghost, and he had slain the king. Arthur had declared himself to be the Warlord of Britain until a new king was chosen and had driven the Uathach host from Caer Sulis. He had offered an allegiance through marriage so that now, for the first time in known history, the northern raiders and the southern war bands sat under the same roof in the same hall and feasted together. In the uneventful lives of the villagers more had happened in the last few days than was expected in a lifetime. There was much to debate and argue but on one thing they all agreed, their futures and the future of the land depended on the warriors in the Great Hall.
Few in Caer Sulis saw a group of four cloaked riders leave the town and head west out onto the Westway making for the Haven. Arthur had decided to bring back the peoples from the West as soon as their harvest was in and before the sun rose once more over Britain. He had sent Lissa to the Haven to take the message across the Western Seas. With him he had sent the still shocked and broken Mar’h to make a start on the training of new warriors for the coming war and to keep him from any Uathach seeking their own justice.
The engagement ceremony itself was simple and quick and it was conducted on the raised dais at the end of the hall. Arthur wore his usual war gear, unwilling to give the impression he was taking on the role of king, and he looked no more and no less than a Warlord of Britain.
Gwyna, however, looked like a Queen to be. Her long red hair was untied and flowed down past her shoulders. A gold circlet sat on her head like a small
crown and she wore a laced long dress, closely fitted round her slim waist and cut low across her full breasts revealing the edge of the bandaging around her injured shoulder. Some remarked that she looked beautiful that night, with maturity beyond her years and that she carried herself with the dignity of the highborn. Of those in the Great Hall only Arthur and Ablach knew her true heritage. Others thought she looked down on those that approached her with cold malice in her hard, hazel eyes. Some of the younger men in the war band looked at her lithe figure and cool disdain and voiced envy that Arthur would be the one to bed her, not knowing that they had already slept together, and as the drink flowed a few of the younger warriors muttered that such a girl as Gwyna was wasted on a man of Arthur’s age. The women among them thought less of Gwyna and reckoned she would bring nothing but ill-fated trouble to the warlord.
From her place among the tables below the dais Ceinwen watched the newly engaged Gwyna and wondered how such a monster as Ablach could produce such a girl. Ablach sat to her left and every time he barked out his raucous laugh, food flew from his mouth. Wine swilled down his beard as he quaffed from his endlessly replenished cup. Ceinwen had no doubt that Gwyna had a hardness and venom to her but next to her father she looked like a woodland spirit from a child’s tale. Through her own increasingly drunken haze she noticed that occasionally Gwyna would look into Arthur’s face or put a hand on his arm, perhaps to reassure herself that her rise from a poor Uathach village to the head of the Great Hall was truly real but Arthur seemed distant from everything around him including his new wife to be. Ceinwen raised her cup of wine in a drunken silent toast wishing Gwyna good luck, she had seen that look before and remembered it well.
Hours later Ablach and Gwyna left the Great Hall to the cheers from those who had not already slumped into unconsciousness. Arthur walked with them down the length of the hall and as he looked across to the unfastened shutters on the windows an image of the Adren scrambling into the hall at Branque came unbidden to his mind to be followed quickly by images of Caja, chained and insane in an Adren hut in the Shadow Lands. He looked at Gwyna by his side and thought for the first time how she resembled the way Caja had looked that night in Branque but Gwyna seemed older in every way despite their similar age. He thought it strange how one’s life had ended much as the other’s had begun.
As he watched father and daughter walk out into the snow-covered square he found himself hoping that the fates he did not believe in would be kinder to Gwyna than they were to Caja. But the fates did not care for the hopes of men.
Arthur returned to the Great Hall and waited. He had done all that he could to unite the peoples of Britain to face the coming threat of the Adren. He had stalled the Adren advance and he hoped that he had bought enough time for Cei and Merdynn to reach the Shadow Land City.
He sat brooding upon the return of the peoples and how they and the council would react to the killing of the king. He dwelt upon his forthcoming marriage to the Uathach girl and whether the northern clans would join with them to battle the Adren horde now wintering across the Causeway. He fought to keep away the image of Fin Seren and he sought to bury his love for her. More than all of these he tormented himself with the question of whether or not Merdynn and Cei had succeeded in their only hope. He had no way of knowing that they were already being tracked by the enemy and were heading straight into an Adren trap.
Causeway
Shadow Lands: Book Two
Chapter One
Winter held the dark forests in frozen silence. The only thing moving in the stilled landscape was Cei’s band of warriors as Merdynn led them ever eastward. They had left Arthur’s camp in the Shadow Lands some five weeks ago and in that time they had seen no other living thing; the forests had been abandoned to the long months of winter darkness.
They had been travelling for several days before Cei had told them the true nature of their undertaking, that they were journeying far into the Shadow Lands to the City that supplied the massed Adren army that was poised to invade Britain. Somewhere in that city there was a power source, a legacy from the last Age that was similar to whatever powered the Veiled City in the Winter Wood. It was their task to wreck that ancient relic and deny the Adren the ability to support their army.
He explained it had been necessary to keep the objective from them until after they had left Arthur’s camp as the less who knew their real purpose the more unlikely it was that the enemy would learn of their plan. He offered that anyone who no longer wanted to go on could return if they so chose. No one said they wanted to return.
Cei was not surprised that they all chose to go on but he was relieved that they all seemed to relish the task ahead. Despite the apparently casual way he had selected them during the clamour back at the camp they had, in fact, been carefully picked for the journey ahead. Merdynn would obviously be their guide, Trevenna would not have suffered to be left behind and Ethain had volunteered and been accepted as a representative of the Wessex and his exceptionally good eyesight would doubtlessly prove to be an asset for them as they travelled deeper into the Shadow Lands. On their first day’s travelling Cei had introduced Ethain to the others who all came from the Anglian war band and whom were mostly unknown to him. Ethain had feigned an interest but he let the names go by him in a blur and by the time Cei had finished he realised he could only put one or two names to the new warriors he was committed to travelling with, but it was clear that the Anglians fell into three distinct groups.
Herewulf led the first of these groups. He was in his mid-fifties and the oldest amongst them, a few years older than Aelfhelm who was Cei’s second-in-command. Herewulf was an experienced, tough warrior who had often travelled in the Shadow Lands in winter. His small band included four others among them Cerdic and Osla, and Cei hoped Herewulf’s experience would curb the younger men’s invaluable but impetuous bravery. The other two, Roswitha and Leah, were both older than the young warriors and the two women had fought alongside Herewulf in many raids against the Uathach. Cei had wanted to make sure Roswitha was with them because of her skilled use of healing plants and powders. Before leaving the camp she had talked to Ceinwen and they had divided out their supply of curative medicines to make sure they both had what they might need. Leah had always fought alongside Herewulf so taking one meant taking the other but she would have been chosen for her ability to fight in any case.
The two remaining groups were sharply divided by age. Wolfestan led the youngest group and he was only twenty-three. His sister Elfilda and their two friends Leofrun and Cuthwin were all younger. Cei felt that their youth and strength would more than counter their inexperience although he had concerns about Leofrun. Her strength was one of character and resolve rather than body and limb but her speed with the sword allayed any fears he had for her in battle. In training duels she would defeat the much bigger and stronger Cuthwin nine times out of ten but Cuthwin had a calmness of temper that the older warriors approved of, knowing he would be a good man to have alongside them in the fierce confusion of battle.
The last band of friends was just such a group of experienced warriors. Between them, Wayland, Thruidred, Godhelm and Ranulf had fought in countless skirmishes and repelled dozens of Uathach raids. Each had travelled in Britain during the winter darkness before and it held few fears for them. Indeed they feared nothing and years of fighting, patrolling, drinking and womanising together had bound them into a tight-knit group that neither Cei nor Aelfhelm would have wanted to journey without.
Most of them had no real concept of either where they were going or how far they had to go. They understood that they were to travel the Shadow Lands in the darkness of winter. They understood that the journey would take them to the Adren City and that they had to destroy whatever magic it was that was used to feed their seemingly endless armies. They did not understand how they could do this but they trusted in Cei and they trusted his faith in Merdynn.
Ethain held no trust in either and was horrified by the revelation of th
eir undertaking. He thought he had volunteered for the same kind of ambush warfare of the last month. The reason he hadn’t paid much attention when Cei had introduced him to the others, and why he purposefully kept himself to himself, was that he didn’t plan to be with them for too long. He had thought that he would be able to slip away from the group unnoticed during one of the raids and make his way back across the Causeway. Once he reached the Gates he planned to contrive to be carrying some message from Arthur for those at Whitehorse Hill. His plan became more vague afterwards but that did not bother him. If he got that far he could bury himself deep in Wessex somewhere. He just knew he could not face up to any more of this constant fear.
He had to stop himself from being physically sick when Cei had told them where they were truly going. With his stomach churning he prayed to the gods that someone would take up Cei’s offer of the option for anyone to return and inwardly cursed the same gods when no one spoke up, damning the folly of those around him and damning his appallingly bad fortune. Instead of the opportunity to slip away from these relative strangers during an ambush, where they would assume he had been killed, he had volunteered to go ever further away from the Causeway on some ill-starred journey to the ends of the Earth.
To make matters worse Cerdic admired Ethain’s bravery in volunteering to join Cei’s band, suspecting that he had some pre-knowledge of their destination, and was forever by his side affording him no opportunity to double back. Now it was too late. He could not find his way back even if a chance presented itself for him to slip away. He realised with a now familiarly sickening feeling that he was in a worse position than before, stuck with a band of warriors whom he didn’t know and who were mad enough to volunteer for this kind of folly; and he knew his chances of survival now depended entirely upon these strangers around him. He forced himself to make the effort to at least get to know their names and went out of his way to assist whomever he could in an attempt to make himself indispensable or at least not expendable when they finally found themselves in trouble. Ethain had long since run out of curses to scream in his mind at these turn of events but he was not averse to repeating his curses and, as they trudged mile by mile through the dark forest, repeat himself he did.