The Beloved Dead

by Tony Hays

  “Then, a fortnight later, a friend from a neighboring village came by to visit. Vala saw the cloud surround his head as well. Within three days he had choked to death on a bit of food.”

  I shook my head. Omens and superstitions! Our lands were full of them, yet no one could really claim to understand them. Everyone knew something, some omen, but it was rare to find an instance where the omen and bad happenings could be seen together. But why should I be surprised that the girl had seen her cloud over our procession? We had tempted the fates horribly of late and some retribution was bound to befall us.

  “You have been helpful, Rhodri. Should you ever need my assistance, send for me at Castellum Arturius and I will give you what aid I can. We are sorry to have disturbed you and your family.”

  Remounting my horse, I saw Bedevere begin to speak and shook my head sharply. In a moment, when we were out of their hearing, he asked his question. “What do you intend to do with this?”

  “Nothing. A little girl saw something. Little girls see many things.”

  The expression on Bedevere’s face said everything. He was aghast that I would withhold this information. “But…”

  “But nothing, Bedevere. The men are already grumbling about curses and bad omens. Giving them yet another to add to their collection only stokes the fire.”

  “They deserve to know, Malgwyn. Aircol deserves to know.”

  “Aircol believes in the Christ, and so do you, I thought. He will place no credence in pagan superstition.”

  “Perhaps not, but you are playing with hot coals, Malgwyn; however, I will hold my tongue for now.” He stopped and looked toward the sky. “We should make camp. The sun wanes and it has been a difficult night and day for us all.”

  With that, we turned our mounts and trotted across the field back to the lane. Merlin and Aircol met us at the edge of the road.

  “This seems a likely place to make camp,” Bedevere announced.

  “There is yet an hour of light left,” Merlin protested, but by then Bedevere and I had already dismounted and so had most of our men. The pleasures of abandoning the saddle were too great for them to argue. My own fatigue made an early end to the day seem desirable. Aircol did not mind. And that was that.

  Within two hours the camp was established, with the difference that this time there were three enclaves instead of the two on our journey to Aircol’s lair—Bedevere, Merlin, and me at one, Coroticus and Ider at another, and Aircol and his children at a third. Yet all were encompassed by a hastily prepared defense ring.

  Cerdic and Aircol’s cooks prepared a wonderful meal, which our boy Talorc grudgingly served. Poor Talorc! Kay’s badgering had made a bitter nature all that much more bitter.

  We feasted on deer that night. Our newfound friend, Rhodri, had graciously shared of his venison, but I could not help but notice that once he had delivered the meat, he hurried back to his home.

  Even his daughter’s vision was not enough to dispel our good mood. Two beakers of mead into the night, I stopped worrying about omens and murdered girls and enjoyed a soft evening with my friends as the fire crackled before us. Even my displeasure with Arthur faded with each beaker. And I fell asleep upon my fur cloak, my belly full of mead and venison, almost content. My sleep was peaceful and deep.

  Until they fell upon us two hours past the midnight.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  At first I thought I was reliving the screams of the mothers of those young girls murdered by this madman. But as my eyes flashed open, I barely had time to snatch my dagger and thrust it into an attacker’s stomach before his entered mine.

  I struggled from beneath his body and clambered to my feet. In the black of night, I could see little but dark forms clashing and hear naught but metal rending flesh.

  A body came hurtling from the dark and I dodged the gleam of a spear point. My dagger found purchase in another stomach and the warmth of his blood coated my hand.

  “Malgwyn,” came a hiss from the dark. Bedevere.

  “Here!”

  “Scotti raiders. They must have silenced our guards.”

  My night vision was growing sharper, and I could discern bodies scattered around our fire, some Scotti, some ours. Shouts and curses filled the air.

  And then another Scotti burst into view. Before I could confront him, his face curled into a howl as a blade appeared from nowhere and blood sprayed from his chest.

  I turned in surprise to see young Talorc brandishing a sword quite effectively. ’Twas his blade that saved me. I nodded quickly and returned to the battle.

  The Scotti attacked on three sides, but primarily from the west, leaving only the road and the ruined villa where Rhodri lived free. In the dark I could not accurately judge their numbers, but it was a large raiding party, and bold.

  Bedevere was rallying a troop to support Aircol’s men who were valiantly encircling his wagon. The king himself was nowhere to be seen, nor Merlin, but I knew my old friend well enough to know that he was giving a good account of himself. The little girl, Vala’s, vision instantly sprang to mind, and I snatched my own sword from the ground, rushing to aid our defenders.

  “Whence came they?” I asked Bedevere as I crossed swords with a young Scotti raider.

  “They must have landed in the great channel and worked their way east.”

  A Scotti burst out of the darkness. I sidestepped his spear as Bedevere bent over and caught him in the abdomen, then flipped him onto his back. I dispatched him with a single blow across his throat.

  “Look!”

  I turned toward where Bedevere pointed to see a Scotti climbing aboard the wagon. In the confusion, he had slipped inside our lines unnoticed.

  But before either I or Bedevere could move to stop him, a figure sped past us, almost as a blur. We watched in stunned silence as the figure ripped the Scotti from the wagon, threw him to the ground and rammed his blade into his enemy’s chest. He was not skilled, but he was effective.

  It was Talorc, the servi boy.

  In battle, the most unlikely man can become a hero. I smiled at him even as I realized that the sounds of clashing swords were abating.

  Others of our men staggered and limped back into camp. Bedevere sent a troop to pursue the Scotti, but they were reduced in number and fleeing as silently as they came.

  Aircol and an exhausted Merlin came in. I had forgotten about Merlin in the confusion. But it looked as if the old man had acquitted himself well, and at some cost to his person. His right arm held a nasty gash, but with luck he would only bear another honorable scar. Aircol looked none the worse, and a smile broke across his face as Gwyneira and Vortipor poked their heads out from within the wagon.

  “My lord, it seems that we have given you more excitement than you desired,” I stuttered, still out of breath from my labors.

  He stretched his back and rolled his shoulders forward. “I am growing old for this kind of fight. But I am grateful for all of you. You saved my children.”

  “Talorc saved your children, my lord. He came from nowhere and fought boldly.” I decided it was time that the servi boy drew praise rather than criticism. Kay would be outraged that Talorc had proved him wrong.

  Aircol brushed his long hair from his face and stepped in front of Talorc. He placed a fatherly hand on the boy and smiled. “I do not own you, but I will plead with Arthur for your freedom. You have done me a great favor and I will not forget it.”

  Cerdic and Morgan emerged from the surrounding forest then, a look of confusion on their faces.

  “What is wrong, Cerdic?” Merlin asked with a grin. “Did you lose some leeks in the trees?”

  The cook’s pudgy face turned so bright a red that we could see it even in the flickering campfire. He carried a club in one hand and scowled at us. “I was chasing the Scotti!”

  “As was I!” Morgan echoed.

  We all laughed at their discomfiture, but it was a laugh tinged with the knowledge and relief that we were still alive. Two soldiers appeared
, looking winded and weary though the battle had been brief. They drew Bedevere aside and spoke to him for a few moments.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Six,” he said, hanging his head, “and as many wounded. Too many to bring back with us. Let us bury the dead here. The wounded still able to sit a saddle can return with our party. We will leave the worst here with Rhodri and give him supplies to keep them and his family fed until we can send a wagon to fetch them.”

  I nodded my agreement. Aircol gave me a curious look as Bedevere went to see to the wounded.

  “A question, my lord?”

  “You are unusual, Malgwyn. Bedevere is Arthur’s Master of Horse and yet he seems to seek your approval.”

  I stopped and thought about what he said. “My lord, Bedevere and I warred together for many years. We fought side by side against the Saxons. In that time, we came to know each other only as brother warriors can. I would not have called us friends until recently, but we have always understood each other. For us, it is not about who is the superior.”

  “That speaks well. For a man with but one arm, you command the respect of others. Many among us believe that your loss of that arm is God’s punishment for your sins.”

  “My lord,” I said with a smile, “if God wished to punish me for my sins, I would have neither arms nor legs.”

  Aircol shook his head in amazement. “Have you that many sins? You are indeed an uncommon man to have sinned so much but maintained the respect of your fellows.”

  I merely smiled and grunted. Even a few moments of battle could be exhausting, and I suddenly felt the effort deep in my bones. Aircol took my grunt with good humor and patted me on the back.

  With guards posted and patrols set, we returned to our sleep as best we could. I found no rest as my mind reeled from the cascade of events that had befallen us. And so I sat, with my sword across my lap, waiting for the false dawn.

  Even as I tried to pass the night, the memories of those poor ravaged girls refused to leave my mind. Were it rape, I could understand though not condone it. Such impulses were a part of every man’s being. Most could control it. Some could not. Man needed that sort of release, needed it so much that he would even take it when not offered. But this was not about that. It could not be. This was about something else altogether. Whoever did these things was making a point. I knew that when I discovered the doer of these deeds I would understand the why of it. When? I laughed to myself. If? That was the more proper question.

  I spent the few hours till dawn contemplating the why of it, and wondering if I would ever find the answers I sought.

  * * *

  The morning light brought a clearer view of the night’s carnage. We had dispatched some ten or fifteen of the Scotti. I noted a handful of blood trails that indicated that our attackers had dragged another half-dozen or so away with them. Bedevere and Aircol clashed on the question of the disposal of the Scotti. Bedevere wanted them left to rot. Aircol believed they deserved proper burial.

  I sided with Bedevere but kept my own counsel. Coroticus sided with Aircol, and Bedevere eventually relented. In all truth, he did not press his argument very hard and there were no ill feelings over it. There would be more important arguments later, I feared.

  “What think you, Malgwyn?” Bedevere asked as work parties were organized.

  “I think the Scotti were fortunate. We are not but a few hours’ ride from the coast. They were probably intent on raiding some of the inland villages and stumbled across us.

  While the men, both ours and Aircol’s, dug the graves, I took the chance to ride a scout farther on down the road. To my surprise Ider volunteered to go with me. We had had little time to talk on this journey. He had been of great assistance to me in the events surrounding the rebellion at Ynys-witrin, and I prized his friendship. He was young and eager, but a bright lad nonetheless.

  “Malgwyn, I saw you ride out to the family across the road from our camp yesterday,” Ider began. “Did you learn aught from them?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.” I had decided to share the little girl’s vision with no one else. “They are but simple folk.”

  He nodded and smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile, and he chewed on his upper lip.

  “Does something trouble you, Ider?”

  “You have always treated me well, Malgwyn.”

  “You are a good man. I have never had reason to treat you otherwise.”

  Again, Ider chewed his lip, and he rubbed a hand across his tonsure, that shaved spot that ran from ear to ear across the top of his head, marking his membership in the brotherhood.

  “What is it, Ider?”

  He frowned then and dropped his head. “I am young, Malgwyn, and I know there is much that I do not understand.”

  I turned my head then, looking at him truly for the first time since he had joined me. “What troubles you?”

  “You are known to be an honest man, and a strong one. You follow the Rigotamos, yet you do not embrace his faith.”

  “I can have faith in a man without believing in the same things that he does.”

  “But Coroticus says that anyone who does not believe in the Christ is a sinner.”

  I was touched. Ider was concerned about my fate in the next life. “Coroticus says many things, Ider. Some are more true than others.”

  It took only a glance to see that my answer did little to assuage his fears. “It is not easy to change a lifetime of beliefs, Ider, and it should be given all the time for thought and reflection that it requires.”

  That seemed to placate him, though it shouldn’t have. I really had said nothing. After a few more minutes, when it seemed there was no danger lying immediately ahead, we turned and began the short ride back to our camp.

  While dismounting, Ider turned to me again and said something odd. “Malgwyn, where did Cerdic and Morgan go last night?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was awakened by a noise about the supply wagon, probably some one hour before the Scotti raided. I looked and saw Cerdic slip into the forest and then Morgan after him.”

  Cerdic and Morgan left the camp and then a short time later the Scotti raided. After the Scotti fled, they both reappeared. Might mean nothing. But at the same time, it might mean everything. Perhaps the Scotti knew who they were attacking.

  I smiled at Ider. “Probably needed to relieve himself.”

  “But he did not return until after the Scotti attacked us.”

  “You didn’t return to your sleep?”

  Ider shook his head. “I tried but could not find rest again. Then the Scotti came.”

  “I’ll ask him, Ider, but I doubt it was anything noteworthy.”

  “But Malgwyn, so many ill omens cannot be wrong! The Rigotamos removed Bran’s head and almost immediately bad things began to happen—the Druid cursed Arthur, the young girl was murdered at the White Mount, another girl murdered at Aircol’s fort, the Scotti attacked us! Surely Arthur has called demons down among us by his actions!”

  “Ider! Take hold of yourself! Do you truly believe that a Druid has the power to curse us? If so, then you deny the basis of your own faith. Do you not believe that God and his son, the Christ, control all things in the world?”

  The young man looked up at me, frustration etched on his face. “I do believe that. I have given my life to His service.”

  “Then why these doubts?”

  “Many people believe in curses and omens, Malgwyn. You know that. Can they all be wrong? How do you account for all these horrible events?”

  I was not sure how to answer him, but I had to find a way. If someone as dedicated to the Church as Ider could be swayed, then we were entering into a dangerous realm. “Coincidence. People are killed every day in our land, Ider, young girls among them. The Scotti raid often. This time, we just happened to be in their path. And lucky too, had we not been there, they might have massacred poor Rhodri and his family.”

  Ider’s face smoothed then, rel
axed, and I felt bad. He was relieved because I had lied to him. The murder of the two girls was certainly not coincidence. The attack by the Scotti might be, but I would not wager my next meal on it, especially now that I knew that members of our party had acted strangely just before the assault. And though we had failed to find the Druid, Wynn, that did not mean that he was not somewhere close by.

  I told myself to remember to find Gareth’s men to see what they knew of this. We had released them for the return journey, out of fear that Aircol would not understand why we used thieves to guard our flanks. And with the addition of Aircol’s men, it would have taken a very large force indeed to overwhelm us. The Scotti party was a good size, but the men were pirates, not trained soldiers. They had fought bravely, but not that well.

  Sighing, I watched as Ider reported to Coroticus, who glanced in my direction and nodded, a thin smile on his face. Men with long histories together often share many secrets. Such was my relationship with the abbot. It had been into his care that Arthur delivered me after that horrible day at Tribuit. And it had been Coroticus who had first recognized my curious skill at sorting out these affairs.

  In those days as in these, the position of abbot was as much political as religious. The Romans made it so when they adopted the faith. One thing that I had learned from my long-dead father and Coroticus, whenever the Romans were involved in anything it became political. In the past, I had praised Coroticus’s grounding in the real world. But I had also learned recently that he could be as much a zealot as the most passionate of believers.

  Some said that politics was what had doomed the empire to failure; the politics, and unbridled ambition. Roman emperors spent most of their time seizing power and then fighting off pretenders to their throne. They argued so much that Alaric and his barbarians bashed down the door to Rome, causing the Romans to withdraw their troops and their protection of Britannia. We were left with a mess. My old dad had been a boy, but he had remembered well the chaos that resulted. Perhaps, with Arthur at the helm, the last of those days was behind us.