Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles)

by Ruth Nestvold

  Yseult shook her head. "Not since he left for Caer Tamar."

  "And how is Cador faring?"

  "Last I heard, the siege is as boring as a siege usually is, but I have not had a letter from him for several days." She smiled. "He writes regularly, though; I hope to receive a message any day now."

  Yseult had her wish the next day; unfortunately, it was not what she wanted to hear. Further enemy forces had landed at Voliba and Gannel Bay.

  Bedwyr was in no condition to continue on to Celliwig. Gawain commanded young Judual to remain in Dyn Tagell with a bare minimum of guards to ensure the safety of the women and the children, and Yseult felt Brangwyn's relief like a wave crashing over on her.

  She was glad Ragnell was maintaining the walls in her mind.

  The afternoon of the same day, Ragnell held her baby close while their toddler clung to her skirts as she took leave from Gawain. Brangwyn leaned her head against her limping husband's chest, crying openly.

  Yesterday, Yseult had envied these women that they were able to see their husbands again. Now she was glad she did not have to say goodbye — knowing as they did that chances were growing ever slimmer their loved ones would return.

  Chapter 32

  But when three hours were ended,

  By token sure he knew

  Sir Gawayne's strength was ebbing fast,

  His blows fell faint and few:

  And shouting loud his battlecry,

  He smote with main and might

  So fast, so fell, Sir Gawayne

  Swooned on the field outright.

  Robert Buchanan, "Gawayne's Revenge"

  Was it only last night that Cador had actually felt inclined to appreciate the beauty of the moment? It seemed very far away now. Sometime during the night, the rain had begun again, not enough to put out the bonfires that allowed them to see what they were doing, but enough to make the men working on the siege engines wet to the skin. Damp as it was, they would not be able to use fire with the catapults, the most effective weapon against a hill-fort.

  At least they had a huge store of rocks and boulders with which to keep pummeling Celliwig. And once the roof for the battering ram was complete, Arthur intended to send a detail of warriors to break down the main gate. Cador wondered how well that would go. None of them had slept all night, and if the others were as tired as he was, he didn't know how they would have the strength to lift the ram, let alone break down the thick wooden doors.

  The light of dawn was still closer to a thought than a reality, when Cador registered a small group slinking through the shadows in the direction of the River Camlann.

  "Arthur!" he called, pointing. "It looks as if someone escaped!" He didn't want to mention the first thought that came to mind — that warriors might already be deserting the scene of the battle before the fighting even started.

  "Take some men with you and look into it!" Arthur called back over the creak of the catapult as the first load of stones was heaved into place.

  Cador nodded shortly and ordered the dozen men closest to mount their horses and follow him.

  As they neared the shadowy group, he realized that at least one of them was a woman.

  "Surround them!" he ordered his men.

  At the command, the refugees began to run, but they were no match for riders on horseback. The enemy warriors formed a living shield around the woman and drew their swords — and Cador realized that it was none other than the Queen of Cerniw herself.

  "Stand down," Ginevra commanded, her voice tired.

  "What are you doing out here, Ginevra?" Cador asked.

  She looked up at him, pushing back the hood of her cape, and in the silvery light, he saw that her right eye was blackened. "I had to get away."

  "How did you get out?" he asked, more curious than anything else.

  She shrugged. "We climbed down from the ramparts opposite a spot with no bonfire. Once we reached Arthur's army, we walked among your soldiers as if we belonged there. I think many were too tired to pay much attention."

  Audacity and desperation — and carelessness on their own part. He wiped the rain out of his eyes and peered at her more closely. "Don't you have your son with you?"

  "My son? Medraut killed my son."

  Cador started at the words. What had happened to convince her that her new husband was responsible for Loholt's death? Or was she simply putting on an act in order to get a message out of Celliwig?

  "I made a grave mistake," she added quietly. "No matter what you do with me, I beg you not to send me back to Medraut."

  "What of Melou?" Cador asked. "The son you were so desperate to save a few weeks ago?"

  "Melou is Medraut's son." Her voice was flat and without emotion.

  Ginevra had never been known for her ability to disguise and dissemble; Cador was almost certain she really was running away and not sneaking out to do Medraut's bidding. But would Arthur see it that way? Could the Dux Bellorum even afford to think about his runaway wife right now? Cador made a quick decision, hoping he would not live to regret it, but he had to deal with the situation on his own.

  "I am taking you and your men prisoner," he said. He motioned his warriors to tie up her personal guard. "You I will send to Dyn Tagell with two of my own men. Flavius, take her up on the saddle in front of you."

  "Yes, Lord." The warrior reached a hand down to the Queen of Cerniw and pulled her up onto his horse.

  "When you get to Dyn Tagell, give her into the custody of Queen Yseult."

  Flavius nodded shortly, whirled his warhorse around, and rode north with his companion along a path parallel to the Camlann. Cador watched them go, wondering what he was going to tell Arthur.

  "Come, we must return to the Dux Bellorum," he said to the rest of his men when the figures had disappeared in the distance.

  By now, murky light was tingeing the edges of fields and forest, a mere suggestion of day. Cador had not slept since waking up the previous morning, and he did not feel up to what this day would bring.

  Ahead, Arthur commanded to attack with the battering ram. It was not the time to tell his cousin that his former wife had escaped Celliwig and was on her way to Dyn Tagell. He dug his heels into his stallion's sides and galloped the rest of the way, his men following suit.

  "Cador!" Arthur called out when he noticed them. "Help with the organization of the ladders when we storm the ramparts! Archers, try to take out the men aiming at the warriors with the battering ram!"

  As murky dawn became murky day, Cador rode the ranks, assigning details of soldiers to the ladders, while others with more fingers crouched behind temporary walls of shields and tried to take out the defenders on top of the outer ring of earthworks. Cador had not yet relearned the bow and arrow with only two fingers on his left hand; that would take time and practice which he hadn't had.

  The air was full of the sounds of war: the grunts from the men carrying the battering ram and loading the catapult; the crunch and crash against the outer door; the screams whenever an arrow found its mark. In places, grass was giving way to mud, and the gradual incline up to Celliwig was turning treacherous. The massive outer door held longer than they expected, and Medraut's archers on the ramparts killed and injured half a dozen men, those least protected by the roof of the battering ram. Too slow, their attack was coming along too slow. Even once the first gate gave way, there would still be the inner door. Why hadn't Arthur given the command to storm the ramparts? It would not be easy, certainly; while the outer earthworks did not present much of a hurdle, the wide ditch between that and the inner ramparts did, a perfect spot for archers above to pick off attacking warriors. Getting ladders up against the walls of stone and wood built on top to the inner embankment — that was where the danger lay. Nonetheless, the soldiers at the battering ram would be safer if the guards above were fighting for their lives and not just dodging the occasional arrow.

  The door of the gatehouse finally began to crack and splinter, and Cador heaved a sigh of relief.r />
  "Ladder details ready!" Arthur called out, and Cador repeated the order to the next commander in line.

  Just as they were preparing to breach Celliwig's defenses, they heard horns warning of an enemy approach from the south.

  Cerdic.

  Instead of giving the command everyone was waiting for, Arthur galloped over to Cador. "We have to take Celliwig, cousin, we are committed now. But I want you to mount your men and enlist Aircol to face this new threat. If you can keep them from coming to Medraut's aid, we may yet get to him first and put an end to this."

  Cador nodded shortly. He commanded his men to retrieve their horses as quickly as possible and meet him on the road to the Camel River. Then he pulled Wyllt around and galloped through the ranks in search of Aircol.

  * * * *

  At low tide, the Camel south of Celliwig could sometimes be forded on foot; luckily, that was not the case now. As Cador rode with Aircol and their men for the river, he could see in the distance that perhaps twenty of the enemy were mounted, most likely horses they had seized in Voliba, but the rest were not. At least that.

  He twisted in his saddle. "Shall we cross the river and try to keep them on the other side?" he called out to Aircol over the drum of hoofbeats.

  "We can try!"

  They were outnumbered and sleep-deprived, but it was the best chance they had to enable Arthur to breach the walls of Celliwig. Besides, they were mounted, and most of Cerdic's men were not. A good war horse was a weapon itself.

  As they forded the river, they saw Cerdic's men stop and prepare for battle.

  "Archers to the fore!" Aircol called out.

  With the precision of long training, the archers galloped forward, forming a wedge meant to break through Cerdic's troops and send them scattering.

  "Shoot as soon as you are within range!" Aircol ordered.

  Cador had no problem with the king of Demetia taking over command of their attack. Not only was Aircol older, he was much more experienced, a king who was a leader of battles in a way Cador would never be.

  Although now, with his villa outside of Lindinis burned and the peace of Britain at an end, what choice did Cador have?

  He drew a spear out of his baldric and prepared to throw.

  * * * *

  Cador didn't know how long they had been fighting Cerdic's troops, but the morning clouds had cleared enough for him to see that the sun was now high in the sky, slowly edging towards the sea. Using a repeated barrage of arrows, they had put some of the enemy to flight and killed quite a few more, all without engaging in one-on-one combat, but they no longer had enough arrows at their disposal. With their smaller force, their only chance lay in sweeping attacks and immediately falling away again.

  As they turned about after one such attack, Cador saw something glinting on the horizon. He squinted to see better. Of course, it had to be — the Pictish reinforcements their scouts had told them were on the way.

  He rode closer to Aircol, pointing. "Perhaps it is time we made a strategic retreat?" he called.

  Aircol's nodded shortly. He raised an arm and shouted, "To the river!"

  The command was repeated along their ranks, and the phalanx of cavalry turned gracefully on an invisible axis and headed for the banks. High tide had come and gone; the river was higher now than when they crossed it that morning, and their horses were forced to swim at the deepest spot, but they made it safely to the other side.

  Cador glanced behind him as they galloped up the valley of the Camlann back to Celliwig. The enemy soldiers were stuck on the other side of the river.

  Arthur had until low tide to defeat Medraut once and for all.

  * * * *

  The sight that greeted them as they neared the hill-fort did not give the appearance of a speedy victory. All along the earthwork ramparts, men were fighting one-on-one. Although the wooden doors of the gatehouse were shattered, Arthur's army had not been successful in breaching Celliwig's inner defenses.

  Cador did his best to repress a feeling of hopelessness. They were still fighting. Medraut's reinforcements were on the other side of the river. Cador was alive. He swore he would stay alive to see his daughter at least once. Riona.

  Riona. And Yseult. Riona and Yseult. He had more reasons than most men to survive.

  * * * *

  It was those two thoughts that kept him fighting as the sun inclined further to the west; as his soaked breeches dried tight and uncomfortable around his thighs; as more and more comrades died around him and the metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils. It began to rain again, making the slopes where they fought even more slippery and muddy.

  When the horns sounded once more, he thought all was lost, that it heralded more enemy troops — until he heard the call and the news passing through the ranks of tired warriors.

  "Gawain! The hero Gawain has arrived! Reinforcements are here! And Llacheu! Arthur's son has come to our aid!"

  With Gawain and Llacheu arrived hope, and Cador could feel renewed energy course through the warriors around him, could see blades swing faster.

  Gawain and his men joined Arthur near the gate house. "Greetings from your beautiful wife!" he called out when he saw Cador.

  "Thank you — I think!"

  The men around them who heard the exchange laughed.

  After informing them of Bedwyr's injury, Gawain argued for trying the battering ram on the inner door again, even though the first detail of men at the ram had been slaughtered in the gate house.

  "We don't have a chance if we don't take the gate," he urged. "Now that we have more men, we can overwhelm the defenders. If we charge the outer gate with a wall of shields, we should be able to get most of our men in."

  Arthur nodded slowly. "A good plan."

  Unfortunately, they had no chance to test Gawain's strategy. While they were preparing to storm the gatehouse, the command was brought that they were to rejoin Arthur's forces. "Cerdic's and Conyn's armies are here, attacking from the south and the west!"

  All along the earthworks, commanders were calling their men back from the fighting, sending soldiers for their horses, mounting and regrouping to face the new enemy. Cador could no longer judge what the numbers on either side might be. Both Arthur's and Medraut's forces had taken heavy losses, but he was afraid with Cerdic's and Conyn's men they would now be seriously outnumbered.

  Arthur rode in front of his commanders and companions. "Medraut and his men will soon be coming out to fight us! We do not want to be caught between him and the reinforcements coming from the south!" He whirled around on the black stallion Hengroen and pointed east towards the hill opposite them on the other side of the Camlann. "We will take up position where the river will provide some protection! There we will not be surrounded by the enemy as we would be here."

  Cador gazed across the valley. It looked to be a good choice — but it was still a retreat. And on the opposite side of a river.

  On the other hand, the day was growing dark; perhaps the enemy would wait until morning to pursue them — and give them all a chance to sleep.

  As one, they wheeled their mounts around and galloped for the banks.

  * * * *

  Gawain did not know what developments had led to the grim situation in which Arthur's troops found themselves. It was obvious enough, however, that the men fighting under Arthur's command were so tired, many of them had problems staying in their saddles. He and his men had ridden hard from Dyn Tagell, and had been on the road for several days before that, but at least they'd had a good night's sleep. As he rode with his former rival Cador for the banks of the Camlann, he could see that many of Arthur's men were sluggish, their reactions slow, whatever energy they still had coming from fear and desperation.

  This time of year, before the heaviest rains had begun, the Camlann was more a stream than a river, and could be forded in at least a dozen places near Celliwig. But just as they were nearing the banks, Gawain heard enemy riders thundering down the hill, gaining on them. If the
y could only make it to the other side and up the opposite hill, they might be safe for the night. Gawain was in the rear guard; ahead he could already see the first of Arthur's troops riding into the stream.

  The thought that came to him then could hardly be called a decision, it was made so fast. He smiled. He would finally face Medraut, take revenge for the deaths of his brothers.

  "Who is with me to fight the traitor Medraut now?" he called out, reining in his horse.

  A yell of assent went up from at least a dozen riders around him. Together, they turned to face the enemy.

  * * * *

  Cador was already on the other side of the Camlann when he heard the war cry go up behind him: "Britannia patria!"

  He wheeled his mount around to see a small force under Gawain's command clash with Medraut's cavalry.

  It was suicide.

  Arthur noticed the pause. "Forward, men! We must gain the ridge!"

  Cador heard the command, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of a line of perhaps twenty mounted warriors facing down Medraut's fifty. Medraut's charge was like a boulder rolling downhill. It hit Gawain's cavalry with a force that split their line in two, sending horses and men flying. They were using their momentum as a kind of weapon of its own. As horse ploughed into horse, the mounts reared up, striking out with their hooves.

  Aircol rode over. "Come, Cador, we must ride! If we do not, Gawain's sacrifice is for nothing!"

  With difficulty, Cador tore his gaze away.

  As he spurred Wyllt up the hill after the rest of Arthur's men, he remembered Gawain's words, so many years ago: "A well-deserved warrior's monument. Promise me you will do your best to see that I will have such a one as well when I die."

  If Cador himself survived this battle, he swore he would find Gawain's body and see to it that he got the monument he deserved.

  * * * *

  It was still dark when Cador was awakened by the sounds of troops preparing to ride. Barely rested, he rolled out of his cloak, every bone and muscle aching, and wondered how their scouts had even seen the enemy in this light.