Kaileah’s jaw dropped in amazement, for she couldn’t imagine whom the High King was summonsing. A great pounding shook the ground underfoot and as Kaileah dared to turn her eyes in the direction of the loud disturbance, she was thunderstruck by the form the otherworldly arbitrator assumed.
Bryce reached Caernarvon to find the stronghold already besieged and well on the way to being overrun by the armies of Reged. He assumed from all the craft strewn along the bank of the Menai Straight that Elidyr’s forces had advanced down the waterway under the cover of darkness and attacked Caernarvon’s sleeping community just before dawn.
As with all of Gwynedd’s major strongholds, the present construction at Caernarvon had been originally built during Roman occupation. Thereafter claimed by Cunedda and his sons, the fortification had been expanded by each successive generation to rule in Gwynedd. The original Roman fortress was entirely encompassed by a high stone wall. This featured twin guard towers to the inland side and the Menai Straight side of the stronghold. Over the last century an entire city had sprung up within the huge outer bailey area, and it had prospered within the protection of the fortification’s walls until this day.
The enemy had breached the outer defences and were fighting their way into the main fortress. Most of the city dwellings were ablaze and the horrified screams of women and children could be heard over the war cries, sounds of clashing metal and the groans of injured men. The stronghold appeared grossly undermanned and Bryce had to wonder where all Rhun’s warriors were. The Protector of Dyfed had maybe a hundred Master warriors with him on horseback. The rest of his force were days behind him. How much good they could do the besieged city against the thousands of warriors on the offensive remained to be seen, but they would give Elidyr a good fight for his trouble none the less.
Bryce continued to advance with his force, assessing where they could concentrate their attack to their best advantage, when he spied a druid wandering about amidst the carnage outside the outer bailey walls.
‘Cai?’ Bryce picked up his horse’s pace as the Druid responded to the call.
‘Bryce!’ the young scholar cried, his hood falling back to reveal a face stained red with the blood of others, which was being washed clean by his streaming tears. ‘They lied to Urien!’ he yelled in desperation as he ran to meet his oldest brother. ‘Blain sent Owen to stop Urien from delivering Powys’ withdrawal of support to Elidyr. Blain told Owen that Urien wast committing treason against the High King and that he must stop him at all costs.’ Cai finally reached Bryce’s horse. ‘They baited Rhun into marching his army to the dispute in the North. Caernarvon never stood a chance and Rhun be none the wiser.’
‘By they, I assume thou doth mean Blain and Javotte,’ Bryce clarified and Cai nodded, short on breath. With this news, Bryce decided they needed a merlin’s aid badly. ‘Where be thy mentor?’
Cai shook his head, a hopeless look upon his face. ‘He hast been missing for weeks.’
Bryce winced, as this was a blow to his cause. He looked back at the fortification being overrun, recognising the soldiers doing the penetrating on the inland side not as warriors of Reged, but as warriors of Powys. ‘So Blain hast defied the Goddess, her people, his kindred and our forefathers to lead this battle?’
‘Aye.’ Cai was ashamed and sorry to concede.
‘Then let us find the heinous infidel and deal with him accordingly.’ With this dark resolve the features of Bryce’s face hardened to a warrior’s visage. He pulled his brother onto the back of his horse and continued towards the raised portcullis into the city. ‘Long live Gwynedd!’ Bryce picked up the pace as he led his small band into the thick of the fight.
When Rhun rode onto the battlefield outside the town of Arfderydd, the opposing forces stretched for as far as the eye could see on either side of the vast clearing — Riderich’s side having the greater numbers due to Gwynedd’s reinforcements. The leaders from all the territories involved had converged on the centre of the field to discuss terms, although they appeared more like they were picking a fight.
‘Looks as though we art just in time,’ Rhun uttered to Bridei, as they rode side by side down into the middle of the battlefield at a leisurely pace. Bridei’s rebel force took the field behind them and Gwynedd’s forces fell in behind their King as he passed.
‘First time I ever saw a three-sided battlefield,’ Bridei commented as he motioned for their legions to halt whilst he and the High King proceeded on to join the other leaders.
More so than anyone, Talorg appeared to want to flee, as seeing Bridei and Rhun together must have been the warlord’s worse nightmare. Elifler, Riderich and Gareth were all speechless upon noting the resemblance of the High King to his new Pictish companion. The King of York and the King of Clyde had both been told of the resemblance by Talorg, but even upon viewing the likeness with their own eyes, it was hard to believe it was not an illusion.
It was the two warriors who Rhun did not recognise that he was most eager to speak with. ‘Morcant Bule and Caten of Lothian, I presume.’
‘Rhun of Gwynedd,’ nodded the older of the two men, who was dark and thickset. He appeared to be the thinker of the pair; thus Rhun guessed him to be Morcant.
‘These Kings claim to be opposing us in thy name,’ accused the other man, who was fair, tall, and of slighter build than his ally.
‘These men have been claiming a lot of things lately, that I am afraid hold little truth.’ Rhun shot an accusing glance in Talorg’s direction, but maintained his good spirits as he looked back to Morcant and Caten. ‘There shall be no war declared on thy territories here today, nor any other day so long as I rule as High King … provided thy kingdoms continue to flourish in peace with the territories with whom I am allied.’
‘What!’ cried everyone, some in amazement, most in protest.
‘Majesty!’ Riderich repositioned his horse so as to be in the High King’s face. ‘I would not assume too much of thy new position, if I were thee,’ he hissed, doing his best to taunt the King.
‘Oh really.’ Rhun brushed off his threat, ‘Why so?’
‘Thee would not want to find thyself all alone on the battlefield this day.’ As Riderich made the threat, Elifler and Talorg sniggered to back him up.
‘He would not be alone.’ Morcant was happy to call his enemy’s bluff and Caten gave a war cry in support.
‘My good men, please!’ Rhun insisted they all calm down. ‘A gracious offer, Morcant, Caten,’ he granted, ‘but as I have already stated that there will be no battle here today, I will have no cause to take thee up on it.’ As the warriors all began to grumble once more, the High King spoke up over the top of their protests. ‘However, as we have all been dragged outdoors on this fine morning, I have devised a fight for our enjoyment and for the entertainment of the troops before the long march home.’
When Bridei dismounted, Talorg really began to look worried. ‘I challenge thee, old man, for my rightful inheritance.’ Bridei came to stand before the Pictish ruler. ‘I shall not have the blood of so many shed for what we can settle between ourselves.’
‘Will someone tell me what, in the name of the Gods, be going on?’ Caten demanded as he gestured to Bridei. ‘What doth this man have to do with anything?’
‘Thou dost not know him?’ Riderich queried his enemy curiously.
‘Should I?’ Caten was vexed.
‘Aye,’ Riderich’s sights turned dark as he looked to Talorg, ‘as I wast told thee and Morcant had joined forces with him.’
‘Rubbish! I have never laid eyes on him before this day,’ Morcant stated, the cause of this unexpected dispute becoming more apparent.
‘What gives?’ Elifler demanded answers from Talorg, realising they had all been had.
‘What difference dost it make? I say we complete the conquest we started.’ Talorg remained on his horse, hoping to rally these kingdoms to war and avoid a one-on-one confrontation with his young challenger.
Rhun looked to Riderich, who
m he’d never disliked or had any beef with. ‘Have we a cause to fight this day?’
Riderich looked at the High King long and hard, realising he was giving him the opportunity to wash his hands of the affair. ‘I do not believe so, Majesty,’ Riderich concurred, turning his steely glare in Talorg’s direction. ‘I hope this lad flattens thee, Talorg, then I shall not have a lying maggot for an ally.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Elifler, ‘let us see him bleed.’
Talorg reared up his horse and headed back towards his legions.
‘Get back here!’ Bridei demanded indignantly and moved to mount his horse to pursue his victim.
‘Fear not,’ Rhun assured the young would-be king. ‘He shall be back.’
From behind the rise where Alban’s forces were assembled, arose the huge head, shoulders and wings of the red dragon, Archimedes. As Rufus had been Maelgwn’s otherworldly affiliate, so was the dragon’s spawn, Archimedes, appointed by the Goddess to serve Rhun during his reign as King of Gwynedd.
Talorg was riding towards the ferocious fire-breathing beast, and so was among the first to see it. At a deafening screech from the creature, the Pictish warlord turned his horse around and headed back toward the gathering of Kings — his fearsome band of painted warriors running along after him.
‘Dear Goddess!’ Riderich battled to steady the restless horse beneath him. ‘The dragon belongs to thee?’ he questioned the High King hopefully, having heard the legend of the dragons of Gwynedd.
‘Archimedes hast come to mediate on the Goddess’ behalf,’ Rhun advised all present, and they watched the enormous beast crawl over the rise and onto the field. Men scampered left and right to avoid the three sharp claws on each of the creature’s four feet. ‘A good thing thee chose to support her council’s cause, hey Riderich?’
Riderich gave the King a bewildered look that implied he wholeheartedly agreed.
‘What assurances do we have that this beast will not consume our armies?’ Morcant was beside himself — half a century on this earth and he’d never seen anything like this.
‘My good man, thou art free to leave at any time, thy legions with thee,’ Rhun assured. ‘If thou hast not the stomach for these proceedings, or thou doth wish to make a start on the trek home, do not let us delay thy departure. The dragon will return to the Otherworld once the fate of Alban’s leadership hast been decided in a fair fight.’
‘Thou art an excellent friend, Rhun of Gwynedd, to go to such lengths for me.’ Bridei bowed before the High King, well impressed with his safety measures. ‘I am forever in thy debt.’
‘Forever may not prove to be very long.’ Talorg returned to their midst.
‘I thought thee might see things my way,’ Rhun welcomed the warlord back. ‘Thou hast nothing to fear from Archimedes’ so long as there is a fair fight.’
‘To the death then, boy.’ Talorg leapt from his horse and drawing his sword he and Bridei began circling each other. ‘Oh, by the way, Highness,’ the rogue warlord mocked Rhun as he passed in front of the High King’s horse. ‘Hast thee not noticed someone missing from the field this day?’
As Rhun looked about in search of the absent menace, his sights fell on Elifler, who appeared rather out of place as he wasn’t cowering in his uncle’s shadow. ‘Why hast the King of Reged not graced us with his presence this morning?’
Talorg’s aggrieved expression was suddenly rather chipper. ‘As it turns out, Elidyr hast always had a bit of a thing for thy queen, Highness … so he just thought he would go to Gwynedd and keep her company in thy absence.’
Rhun’s calm demeanour disappeared abruptly, as he looked to Riderich. ‘Tell me he lies.’
The King of Clyde shied from the question. ‘Talorg led us all to believe —’
‘I do not want hear thy confessional, man.’ Rhun gripped hold of the leader’s shirt to shake the answer out of him. ‘Dost he lie or not?’
‘Nay, Highness, he speaks the truth,’ admitted Riderich. ‘Elidyr attacked Caernarvon at sunrise.’
‘Nay, thou art lying.’ Gareth panicked. ‘All my family art there.’
Rhun only frowned as his mind processed the information, thinking his own family still safely tucked away in Dyfed. ‘Caernarvon seems an awfully large target for Elidyr to tackle alone?’
Riderich hesitated to voice what he knew would be the worst of the news for the High King. ‘King Blain wast to march troops overland to aid Elidyr’s attack. They planned to consume Gwynedd between them, and with thee out of the way Blain would proclaim himself High King.’
In order to crush our opposition thee must kill a man. Taliesin’s warning came back to haunt him and for a moment Rhun was consumed by silent rage, aware that he could not expose the extent of his anguish in present company. At the sound of swords clashing in combat, he opened his eyes to find Bridei’s fight for his throne had begun.
‘Majesty, what can we do?’ Gareth felt it a stupid question to ask, being that they were weeks from home.
‘Follow me,’ Rhun instructed, riding around the area where the duel was taking place and beyond to where the dragon loitered.
‘Archimedes,’ he announced loudly as he approached the beast, who was apparently engrossed in the fight. ‘I need thee to send me and my knight, Gareth, forth to Caernarvon.’ The High King dismounted and excused his nervous horse.
Thou art perfectly capable of doing that thyself, the creature bethought the High King, without bothering to look to him.
‘Aye, but as nobody else knows that, I would be grateful if thee would help me keep up appearances,’ Rhun explained.
‘Hast thou lost thy mind?’ Gareth appeared to want to retreat very badly. ‘I demand to know how he shall send us forth?’
‘It will not hurt a bit. Just think of thy kin.’ Rhun urged Gareth close enough to grip hold of his arm. ‘Archimedes, if thee please.’ He let the beast know he was ready for his performance.
The dragon rolled his eyes and, with a yawn, he waved a claw about above the High King and his knight.
All at Arfderydd were amazed when the two men vanished from the field.
Half of Bryce’s men had been killed getting into the main stronghold at Caernarvon. Those who survived the skirmish being fought in the inner and outer bailey followed their leader to the main stairwell. They realised the nobles of the household could be trapped on the upper level of the fort.
Here they were astonished to find that the ageing Sir Tiernan and a handful of knights still held the stairway, and were frantically fending off a far greater force.
‘Need a hand?’ Bryce yelled to Tiernan, drawing the focus of the warriors trying to force their way upstairs. The look of relief on the faces of Gwynedd’s knights was thanks enough as Bryce’s men joined ranks with Tiernan’s to defend the stairway.
As the passageway was now reinforced, Bryce fought his way through the squeeze and Tiernan pulled the Protector out of the main fighting to race him upstairs. Cai had been instructed to stay close to Bryce, so he hurried up the stairs after them. ‘The High Queen be here,’ Sir Tiernan informed them both in a whisper.
‘Why?’ Bryce appealed. ‘Did thee not get my message, warning that an attack might be imminent?’
‘No message arrived! We had no warning whatsoever.’ Tiernan reached the next level of the fortress and headed around to see how they were holding out at the other stairwell.
‘Where art the women?’ Bryce decided to join their guard.
‘In here.’ Tiernan knocked on the heavy oak door to check on them, expecting it to be barred. Instead the door fell to the floor with an almighty thud, having been rammed open previously. The High Queen and Gareth’s wife, Linette, and their young daughter, were missing, along with their female servants. Sir Tiernan’s own wife of thirty years, the Lady Ione, was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, her throat cut, along with the members of Bridgit’s royal guard.
Tiernan let loose a blood-curdling scream. Had he been forty instead of sixty, he wou
ld have recovered his sensibilities quickly and sought and slain his beloved wife’s murderer. As it was, he sank to his knees beside Ione, and taking her up in his arms he wept bitterly — all his will to fight died with her.
Bryce left Cai to comfort the shattered knight and raced off through the fortress in search of the womenfolk.
As he approached a T-intersection in the stone corridor Bryce turned left, towards the only other stairwell that led down from this level. Here he confronted a large group of soldiers, who fell into a barrier formation upon sighting him. There were at least a dozen soldiers opposing. They were all warriors from Powys and men whom Bryce knew, but he doubted that that would ensure him safe passage this day. He backed away from them, down the passage that led to the main sleeping quarters and, surprisingly, the warriors didn’t follow him, but stood at ease as he departed.
‘Nay, thee cannot let him do this.’
Bryce heard Bridgit’s voice coming from the main bedchamber up ahead.
‘Thy husband always boasted thou wast more than keen.’
Bryce paused at the door to listen — it was Elidyr who was addressing the High Queen.
‘After me,’ he boasted, ‘my entire regiment shall have thee and I believe that thee might even enjoy it.’
As Bridgit screamed Bryce burst through the door, his sword extended and ready to strike. ‘Release the High Queen, or I shall run thee through.’
Elidyr, struggling with Bridgit on the bed, didn’t bother getting off her, but he did look at Bryce and smile. ‘Not if I run thee through first.’
Bridgit began shaking her head in warning, ‘Behind thee —’
A short, sharp stabbing pain shot through Bryce’s body. He lost all sensation in his legs and fell to the floor. Looking down he saw three-quarters of a sword blade protruding from his gut, his lifeblood pouring onto the floor around him. He could hear someone laughing, and looking up he discovered it wasn’t Elidyr as he had returned to his struggle with the High Queen.
‘Goddamn it woman!’ Elidyr lost patience and headbutted Bridgit, whereupon she fell unconscious. ‘Thank heavens, some cooperation.’ The King of Reged drew his sword and sliding it underneath the High Queen’s nightdress, he cut it from her body.
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