A long-haired, shaggy moorland pony grazed close to the White One within the circle of great standing stones. The pack which had been on its back lay open on the ground beside the body of Arturo, which was half-propped against a fallen lintel, his head cushioned by his own bloodstained cloak and tunic, and his body naked above his trews except for the tight binding of torn strips of cloth that circled his body below his ribs and held, tight-pressed, a great moss wad which blocked and staunched the flow of blood from his wound.
At his side sat the man Merlin, whom he had last seen on the high scarp above the Sabrina River, the dark-haired, stocky, brown-robed man known as the ageless, the wandering one. On the ground lay a half-empty waterskin and a piece of old cheese resting on a great dock leaf. The man ate and, from watching Arturo’s face, he turned now and then to look at the body of Inbar lying a little way off, the flies and bluebottles crowding the wound in his neck, the eyes upturned and open, staring sightlessly at the midmorning sky.
A pair of grey-polled jackdaws, scavenging and eyeing the cheese below, sat atop one of the great stones and called noisily. At the sound Arturo slowly opened his eyes. He lay without moving for a while and there was a weakness in him that made him feel without body or contact with the turf and stone which supported him. But that he lived he knew, for slowly there grew in him a raging thirst which fired his throat and slowly brought him to an awareness of his own flesh and blood. His mind clearing, he said weakly, “I live.”
Merlin smiled. “It is the wish of the gods. Why else would they have set my steps this way? Once by happenchance we met. But now they stir themselves and begin to meddle with my affairs and give me dreams to plague my path. Yes, you will live. While you rested in limbo I cut the broken arrowhead from you.”
“Thanks I give you, and more thanks would for a drink. My … my throat is like a smithy’s furnace and my body burns.”
Merlin reached for the waterskin and then took from the ground at Arturo’s side the silver chalice. He filled it and, with an arm around Arturo’s shoulders, lifted him a little so that he could drink in comfort.
Arturo took the chalice in his weak, trembling hands and drank. The water went into him with a coldness that suddenly made his body shake. He half lowered the chalice and coughed, holding it in his cupped hands against his breast, closing his eyes against the shock. When the spasm passed he opened his eyes, felt strength stirring in him and moved to raise the chalice to drink again, but slowly stayed his hands. Within the silver bowl cradled between his palms the clear water was slowly flushing with a crimson hue that deepened and, as the water stilled, took the morning light and glowed with a high brilliance to show his own bearded, fight-sweated face mirrored in it.
He raised his eyes in wonder at the sight and saw that Merlin, too, had seen the colouring. They looked at each other without words and then Merlin smiled gently. The White One, suddenly raising her head, whinnied high and fiercely and cantered across the marjoram- and thyme-laced turf.
From the dip in the land to the east there rose then the sharp, echoing call of a horn. Over the crest of the land came the leading troop of Arturo’s companions with Lancelo at its head, the white-horse banner streaming in the rising morning breeze, and behind him, cloaked and scarved and helmeted, moved the ranks of the companions with scarlet and white plumes tossing and swaying.
Merlin, speaking almost as though to himself, said, “Your people come and there is no more need of me. But there will come a day when I shall be with you in an hour of your own choosing when the war horns shall blow neither for victory nor for defeat, but to set echoes rolling forevermore over this land to give your name everlasting life while you take the long sleep which the gods have decreed for you.”
But as he spoke, a great weariness and weakness seized Arturo and the chalice fell from his hands as he passed into the first sleep which would stage him well on the road to full force and proud intent again.
List of Place and Tribal Names
ANCIENT MODERN
Abona
Abonae
Abus
Anderida
Antivestaeum
Aquae Sulis
Ariconium
Atrebates
R. Avon
Bristol
R. Humber
Pevensey
Land’s End
Bath
Weston-under-Penyard
Middle Thames Valley tribe
Belerium
Land’s End
Belgae
West Country tribe
Brigantes
Tribe holding lands north of York
from coast to coast
Caer Sibli
Lundy Island
Calcaria
Tradcaster
Calleva
Silchester
Camulodunum
Colchester
Cantawarra
Canterbury
Cantiaci
Kent tribe
Catuvellauni
Essex tribe also holding lands
northwest of London
Clausentium
Bitterne
Corinium
Cirencester
Coritani
Cornovii
Crococalana
Cunetio
Cymro
Cheshire-Staffordshire tribe
Brough
Mildenhall
Wales
Demetae
Deva
Dubglas
Dumnonia
Durnovaria
Durobrivae
Durocornovium
Durolipons
Durotriges
Durovernum
Durovigutum
Eburacum
Erin
Eurium
York
Ireland
Usk
Southwest Wales tribe
Chester
R. Witham
Cornwall and Devon
Dorchester
Rochester
Wanborough
Cambridge
Somerset-Dorset tribe
Canterbury
Godmanchester
Lincoln-Leicestershire tribe
Glevum
Gobannium
Gloucester
Abergavenny
Hercules’Promontory Hartland Point
Iceni
Ictis
Isca
Ituna
Norfolk-East Anglia tribe
St. Michael’s Mount
Exeter
Solway Firth
Lactodorum
Lavobrinta
Lemanis
Lindinis
Lindum
Towcaster
Forden Gaer (Wales)
Lympne
Ilchester
Lincoln
Londinium
Lugovalium
Luteria
London
Carlisle
Paris
Metatis
Mona
Moridunum
The Wash
Anglesey
Carmarthen
Nemetostatio
Nidum
Novantae
Noviomagus
North Tawton
Neath
Dumfries tribe
Chichester
Ocelli
Olicana
Ordovices
Flambrough Head
Ilkley
North Wales tribe
Parisi
Petuaria
Picts
Pontes
Protus Adurni
East Yorkshire tribe
Brough (Humber)
The Scots
Staines
Porchester
Ratae
Regnenses
Rutupiae
Leicester
Hampshire-Sussex tribe
Richborough
Sabrina
Salinae
Scotti
<
br /> Segontium
Sorviodunum
Spinis.
Tamarus
Tamesis
R. Tamar
R. Thames
R. Severn
Droitwich
The Irish
Caernarvon
Old Sarum (Salisbury)
Speen
Tanatus
Tisobis
Trinovantes
Turius
Thanet
R. Glaslyn
Essex-East Anglia tribe
R. Towy
Vectis
Venta
Verlucio
Verulamium
Vindocladia
Vindolandia
Isle of Wight
Winchester
Sandy Lane
St. Albans
Badbury Rings
Chesterholm.
Yyns-witrin Glastonbury
Copyright
First published in 1977 by Heinemann
This edition published 2012 by Bello an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR Basingstoke and Oxford Associated companies throughout the world
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ISBN 978-1-4472-3466-1 EPUB
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Copyright © Victor Canning, 1977
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The Circle of the Gods Page 20