Taliesin: Book One of the Pendragon Cycle

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  "Have you spoken to Maxim us about it?"

  "I tried. We passed by Caer Seiont on our return, but he had gone off to Londinium again. Romans! If only they would fight the Picti and Attacotti as eagerly as they kill each other." Elphin sighed. "Not that it matters. There are few enough legionaries left—five hundred at Luguvallium, not many more at Eboracum and Deva. Fullofaudes commands the Wall now, and he is vigilant, I give him that. But he trusts his scouts too much. Scouts, did I say? The cutthroats are little better than the vermin they are hired out to keep an eye on."

  "You could go to Londinium," suggested Taliesin. "I would go with you, and some of your chiefs. We could speak to the legate."

  "I would climb back in that accursed saddle at once if I thought it would do any good. The legate believes that the southeast is more vulnerable. What men he has are put to work building forts along the southern coast, all to defend against a few fishing boats full of Saecsens—and this after the massacre in the north."

  "That was seven years ago, Father," offered Taliesin gently.

  Elphin considered this. He smiled slowly and shook his head. "So it was. But the same' will happen again, maybe worse. It is beginning, Taliesin—the Dark Time. It seems I have been waiting half my life, but I swear I have never seen a darker time than this. I think Maximus realizes it as well and that is why he has gone to Londinium—to try to make them listen. They cannot bleed us dry up here and expect protection in the south."

  "What will you do?"

  "What is there to do but look to our own defense?"

  Taliesin remained silent. He had rarely seen his father so profoundly disturbed—angry yes, foaming with rage at the shortsighted stupidity of the emperor and governors and legion commanders, especially following the dreadful massacre of seven summers ago. But now Elphin, staunchest and most loyal of subjects, had all but abandoned the Roman leaders; this was new, and this concerned Taliesin.

  Bit by bit he had seen it coming as each passing year increased the distance between the Cymry and their Roman protectors. The people were gradually returning to the old ways, the ways of their Briton ancestors.

  "The Celt will live again," said Taliesin.

  "Eh?"

  "It is just something Hafgan said. A prophecy which I fear is coming true."

  "Aye, too true. I wish Gwyddno were here," said Elphin gloomily. "I miss him." He raised his horn. "To strong arms, sharp iron, and fleet horses!" He downed the mead in a gulp. "Now let us join the merrymaking. We both know this could well be the last we see for a long, long time. And bring your harp, son. I have missed your singing these last months."

  Rhonwyn entered the house then and met them as they rose from the board. "Your people are asking for you, husband."

  "Let them go on asking," Elphin said, wrapping his wife in a fierce bear hug. "I mean to have you first."

  "Go on with you, man!" exclaimed Rhonwyn, struggling in his embrace. But not, Taliesin noticed, struggling enough to free herself. "There will be time enough for making love."

  Elphin grinned. "That is where you are wrong, woman. There is never enough time for lovemaking. We must take it when we can." He planted a great kiss on her lips, which she returned with passion.

  "Ah, Taliesin lad, find yourself a lusty wife and you will be happy all your life."

  "Words to live by, Father," laughed Taliesin.

  "Just love her as much as you can," said Rhonwyn, pulling Elphin toward the door, his arm still around her waist, "and you will never want for a happy home."

  They joined the celebration, which lasted two days. In this Elphin proved himself something of a prophet, for it was the last feast that year and for several years to come. And for far too many, the last they were ever to see.

  * * *

  The golden days of autumn fell away one by one and the land prepared for its winter rest. Hafgan, upright and erect as ever, gray eyes still sharp as a hawk's—although his long hair now showed more silver than brown—sat before his hut, watching a long, thin wisp of smoke float into a cool azure sky. He studied for a long time as the smoke braided and curled and flattened on the upper wind. At last he gathered his blue robe about him and hurried to Elphin's hall.

  "Fetch your lord," he told a young warrior lolling before the door.

  The young man pulled on his mustache, so Hafgan drew back and gave him a quick kick on the shin. The warrior nearly toppled to the ground. "Be quick with you," the druid said.

  A moment later Elphin was standing before his chief counselor blinking in the light and saying, "A bit early for kicking the hirelings, is it not, Hafgan?"

  "Too late, more like."

  "What is it, then? What have you seen?"

  "They are coming."

  "Picti?"

  "From today we will no longer speak of Irish, Picti or Saecsen but of barbarian."

  "Do you mean to say they are all coming?"

  "Why look so surprised? Have you not yourself often spoken of the coming darkness?"

  "I had hoped for a few more years," Elphin confessed.

  "One year or another, one season more or less, what difference? Take the day as it comes, Elphin."

  "Do you see victory for us?"

  "Better to ask your son. He sees these things much clearer than I."

  "I have not seen Taliesin for three days! Where is he when we need him?"

  "He will be where he is needed most."

  A little while later, as the warband prepared to ride out again, they heard the iron ring out from the council oak.

  Elphin and his closest advisors—Cuall, Redynvar, and Heridd—hurried to the tree, where Taliesin waited, the iron striker in his hand. "I would have come to you, but there is no time to lose," the young man explained. "Irish ships have been sighted looking for landfall below Mon. Raiding parties have pushed as far south as Dubr Duiu. Diganhwy is under seige."

  Taliesin half-expected his father to react in the way of Celtic battlelords of old—with quick anger and white-hot rage. Instead, the king was cool and decisive. "How many ships?" he asked.

  "Thirty at least. Maybe more. Those that have landed were painted the color of the sea—hull, sails, and masts—to better hide among the waves. It was difficult to count them."

  "That is easily a thousand men!" exclaimed Heridd.

  Cuall, already buckling on his leather breastplate, observed dryly, "Their thousand to our three hundred—why, they only want two thousand more to make it a fair fight!"

  "Do we take them on the shore or let them come to us?" wondered Redynvar.

  "If they mean to have this land, let them come and take it from us," replied Heridd.

  "No," replied Elphin firmly. "That may do for us, but there are many small holdings and settlements that look to us for protection. We will meet them where they come ashore. We ride at once." He had no need to say more. So well schooled were his men in the ways of war, their commander's word silenced all discussion.

  Hafgan arrived as the commanders dashed away to their various chores. Elphin lingered with the bards. "Do you see victory for us, son?"

  Taliesin frowned. "I see much death and pain on both sides. Victory? Father, I tell you the truth, the man is not alive who will see this fight ended, let alone won."

  Elphin tightened his belt. "Then it is best to begin it rightly and give those who come after an example they will never forget. Will you ride with us?"

  "I would ride with you even if you had not asked me," said Taliesin.

  "But I will not," remarked Hafgan. "I am too old. Let me rather support my lord in imprecations against the enemy. "

  "Do that," said Elphin, flashing a malicious grin. "And let the whole stinking pack save themselves if they can!"

  There were hurried farewells throughout the caer and the warband rode out. They galloped north in three columns along the coast searching for ships on the horizon, or already beached. They saw none until late in the afternoon when the sun was already sinking toward twilight. One of Elphin's sco
uts returned to the lead column with the news: "Boats, lord, twenty by count. Still far out. They do not appear to be coming in."

  "It is late. No doubt they are waiting to slip in under cover of darkness," said Cuall.

  "Where is the likeliest landing?" asked Elphin.

  "A sandy cove lies not two miles north of here. I think they might make for that," the scout answered.

  "I know the place. We wait for them there, then. Take two men with you and ride to Caer Seiont. Tell the tribune we will engage the enemy here and join the legion as soon as possible."

  The scout acknowledged his orders with a Roman salute, and a moment later three men rode off. The three columns moved off to establish themselves in strategic positions around the cove and to wait for nightfall and the landing of the enemy.

  The early hours of the night passed uneventfully. Elphin's warband watched and waited quietly. They ate cold rations and slept in their armor, their weapons at hand. On the sea there was no movement, although the late-rising moon revealed that the raiders were there, sitting off the coast.

  "What are they waiting for?" wondered Cuall. He and Elphin were huddled together on a rocky outcrop overlooking the sea, well above the beach. It had just passed midnight and still the boats had not moved.

  "Look to the northern sky," said a voice behind them.

  "Ah, Taliesin, you join us," said Cuall. "To the north, you say? What is to the north? I see nothing."

  "That bank of cloud—you can see the lower edge as a thin line in the moonlight. Just there above the water. They are waiting for complete darkness."

  "And they will get it," snorted Elphin. "By Lleu, they show a canny streak! When did they get so smart?"

  "You have taught them, Father. You and the Romans. They know that word of the raid has spread by now and that they will likely be met. So they wait and nurse their strength."

  "Let them do what they can," humphed Cuall.

  "We might as well sleep," Taliesin suggested. "The clouds are moving slowly; the ships will not come to shore."

  Elphin posted a watch at the outcrop and slept, to be awakened while it was still dark by a harsh whisper in his ear. "A light, Lord Elphin. I think it was a signal. The ships might be moving."

  The king was already on his feet before the message was fully delivered. "Alert the commanders. Tell them to meet me here."

  They met: Cuall, Heridd, Toringad, Redynvar, Nerth, Ma-bon—all of Elphin's commanders, each with charge of a contingent of fifty men, a system they had adopted from the Romans. "The boats are coming in," he told them. "It will be difficult to see at first, but let the raiders come ashore and move a little inland. Then burn the boats. There is to be no escape. I will not have them run from this fight only to land somewhere else with the dawn." He glanced around at his men, each one a battle-seasoned champion, proven many times over. "Lleu make your blade quick and your spear true," he said.

  "Death to our enemies!" they answered and hurried away to gather their companies.

  Twelve of the raiding ships landed on the beach; ten others made for the estuary of the Tremadawc River a little further north. "Cuall!" shouted Elphin when he saw what had developed. His second-in-command came running, face set, eyes blazing. "Ten have gone upriver. You, Redynvar, and Heridd go after them."

  Cuall slapped his breastplate with the flat of his hand and whirled away. A moment later a hundred and fifty men rode silently from the dunes above the beach.

  Elphin waited until the raiders had dragged their boats well above the tide line and allowed them to penetrate inland a short way. He struck before they could assemble into their main contingents. One moment the dunes were dark, quiet shapes against the night-dark sky; the next they echoed with blood-chilling screams as burning arrows streaked through the darkness. When the invaders dispersed along the beach, invisible horsemen thundered down from either side. And when they fled to their boats, they found the sails burning and the hulls aflame.

  It was a short, ugly fight. Elphin dispatched the enemy with cold efficiency and when he was certain all had been accounted for—either wounded or dead—he mounted his troops and rode to the river to help his commanders deal with the rest.

  They reached the river as dawn lightened the sky in the east. Smoke drifted in gray snakes through the trees, and they heard urgent shouts and the clash of arms as they plunged through the thick underbrush toward the battle. But by the time they reached the site all was strangely quiet. The weak morning light revealed a neat row of Irish ships burning quietly down to the waterline; bodies of half-naked invaders bobbed silently in the blood-red river. So many, a man might have walked from one bank to the other without wetting his feet. On the shore the dead lay sprawled everywhere, some pierced by arrows, others by spears. Few of the dead wore Cymric battlegear.

  "Where have they gone?" wondered Elphin.

  "Listen!" hissed Taliesin.

  A moment later Elphin heard the sound of men pushing their way toward them through the wood. Elphin gave a quick, silent signal and his troops disappeared. They waited. Suddenly Cuall's men appeared, their leader stalking angrily ahead, a black scowl twisting his face.

  "What happened?" asked Elphin, stepping out to meet him.

  "The dogs got away," Cuall said, as if the words burned his mouth.

  The king tallied the bodies around him. "Not many got away, from the look of it."

  "Oh, indeed! But there were more than we expected. Each boat had fifty at least! We took them as they put to shore."

  Taliesin marveled at the casual ferocity of the warriors. He knew well their skill and courage; he had occasion enough to laud it in song. AH the same, it awed him to see it in action: a hundred and fifty against three times their number, and they fretted that some had escaped—never mind that they had been seriously outnumbered from the start.

  "We gave chase," continued Cuall, "but lost them in the woods."

  "Let them go. We ride to Caer Seiont."

  On they rode, approaching the Roman fortress by midday. Elphin sent scouts ahead to view the situation. "I like this not at all," muttered Cuall as they waited, using the time to eat a few bites of food and water the horses at the ford. The hill on which the fort was built was not far from the river, and they could see the black smoke rising above the trees ahead and hear the frantic sounds of battle sharp in the still autumn air.

  "Maximus is in trouble," replied Elphin. "But it will not help him for us to rush in without a good account of how things stand."

  When the scouts returned, the king called his commanders together and all listened to what the scouts had to report. "The fort is well surrounded, but the main fighting is taking place before the gates, which are afire. There are small fires inside the fort," said one of the scouts.

  "How many of the enemy?" asked Elphin.

  "A thousand," replied the second scout cautiously. "Maybe more. But they are holding none back."

  "A thousand men," wondered Redynvar. "Where did they come from?"

  "That matters but little," Cuall reminded him. "They are here, and that is the meal that is on our plate!"

  "We will take the main force at the gate," Elphin said. "One column will go in first with support from either side. Heridd and Nerth, stay behind and guard our backs. We may need fresh reserves later." Battle plans laid, they remounted their men and continued to the fort.

  It was as the scouts had said: at least five hundred invaders massed before the main gate, and another five or six hundred deployed around the square's stone-and-timber walls, busily keeping those inside the fort occupied with the defense of those walls. Stones and arrows flashed through the air, clattering against the long, narrow shields of the raiders.

  "Look at them," muttered Elphin in amazement. He had never seen a Roman fort under attack. Irish Scotti dodged to and fro, loosing their long spears upon those on the ramparts; around them naked Picti and Cruithne, their skins bright blue from the woad, darted and danced, filling the air with their short, sharp arr
ows; Attacotti, slim dark bodies gleaming in the sunlight, threw themselves at the gates armed only with iron axes.

  "Those big ones—" Cuall said, pointing to a rear echelon made up of large-limbed, beefy men dressed in skins and leather, their fair hair hanging in long braids.

  "Saecsen," said Taliesin. "They are all here."

  "And will soon wish they were not!" The king turned in his saddle. "Column ready!" he bawled. There was a rustling along the ranks as spears were readied for the charge.

  "Speak a victory for us, Taliesin," said Elphin, gathering his reins.

  "I will uphold you," Taliesin replied.

  The column charged up the hill as a straight line, flaring out at the last instant to form a sharp-pointed wedge. They rode straight for the gate where the battle was thickest. Too late the enemy heard the thunder of their horses as death swooped over them. They turned to meet the charge only to be swept backward before it and pinned against the burning gates and wall of the fort they were trying to destroy.

  The spears of the Cymry thrust and thrust again, blade-tips running red as they scythed through the melee. Here and there men were hauled from horseback to disappear under a swell of flashing blades and clubs. Those in the forefront of the attack feinted back, moving to the side to allow their comrades who had regrouped to charge into the mass again.

  Taliesin, along with Heridd, Nerth, and their squads, watched the fight, and waited for Elphin's signal. The horses charged and charged again. Spears thrust and hooves flashed and the enemy fell by the score, but for every one that fell, three more took his place. Eventually exhaustion forced Elphin's company to retreat and let fresh troops take the field.

  "Ride in twos!" the king cried as his mount came pounding in. "Keep your horses! Each man protect his neighbor!" Panting and sweating, he motioned the replacements into the fray.

  "It is worse than I expected," Elphin told Taliesin when they had gone, wiping blood and grime from his brow. All around them men gasped from their deadly exertion. The king spoke low so those close by would not overhear. "They mean to die this day, and it fills them with desperate courage. They fight like men gone mad." He shook his head. "And there are so many of them."