Arthur's horsemen led our silent column. They wore their armour, they carried spears and swords, but their shields were slung upside down and green branches were tied to their spear-tips as signs that we came in peace. Behind the vanguard marched Lanval's spearmen, and after them came two score of baggage mules that were loaded with Sansum's gold and with all the heavy leather shields that Arthur's horses wore in battle. A second smaller contingent of horsemen formed the rear guard Arthur himself walked with my wolf-tailed spearmen just behind his banner holder who rode with the leading group of horsemen. Arthur's black mare Llamrei was led by Hygwydd, his servant, and with him was a stranger I took to be another servant. Nimue walked with us and, like Arthur, tried to learn some Saxon from me, but neither was a good pupil. Nimue was soon bored by the coarse tongue while Arthur had too much on his mind, though he duly learned a few words: peace, land, spear, food, mother, father. I was to be his interpreter, the first of many times that I spoke for Arthur and returned his enemy's words.
We met the enemy at midday as we descended a long gentle hill where woods grew on either side of the road. An arrow suddenly flickered from the trees and slashed into the turf just ahead of our leading man, Sagramor. He raised a hand and Arthur shouted at every man in the column to be still. "No swords!" he ordered. "Just wait!"
The Saxons must have been watching us all morning for they had assembled a small war-band to face us. Those men, sixty or seventy strong, trailed out of the trees behind their leader, a broad-chested man who walked beneath a chieftain's banner of deer-antlers from which hung shreds of tanned human skin.
The chieftain had the Saxon's love of fur; a sensible affection for few things stop a sword stroke so well as a thick rich pelt. This man had a collar of heavy black fur about his neck and strips of fur around his upper arms and thighs. The rest of his clothing was leather or wool: a jerkin, trousers, boots, and a leather helmet crested with a tuft of black fur. At his waist hung a long sword, while in his hand was that favourite Saxon weapon, the broad-bladed axe.
"Are you lost, weal has he shouted. Wealhas was their word for us Britons. It means foreigners and has a derisive ring, just as our word Sais does for them. "Or are you just tired of life?" He stood firmly in our road, feet apart, head up and with his axe resting on his shoulder. He had a brown beard and a mass of brown hair that jutted sharply out from under his helmet's rim. His men, some in iron helmets, some in leather, and almost all carrying axes, formed a shield-wall across the road. A few had huge leashed dogs, beasts the size of wolves, and of late, we had heard, the Sais had been using such dogs as weapons, releasing them against our shield-walls just a few seconds before they struck with axe and spear. The dogs frightened some of our men far more than the Saxons did.
I walked with Arthur, stopping a few paces short of the defiant Saxon. Neither of us carried spear or shield and our swords rested in their scabbards. "My Lord," I said in Saxon, 'is Arthur, Protector of Dumnonia, who comes to you in peace."
"For the moment," the man said, 'peace is yours, but only for the moment." He spoke defiantly, but he had been impressed by Arthur's name and he gave my Lord a long curious inspection before glancing back to me. "Are you Saxon?" he asked.
"I was born one. Now I am British."
"Can a wolf become a toad?" he asked with a scowl. "Why not become a Saxon again?"
"Because I am sworn to Arthur's service," I said, 'and that service is to bring your King a great gift of gold."
"For a toad," the man said, 'you howl well. I am Therdig."
I had never heard of him. "Your fame," I said, 'gives nightmares to our children."
He laughed. "Well spoken, toad. So who is our King?"
"Aelle," I said.
"I didn't hear you, toad."
I sighed. "The Bretwalda Aelle."
"Well said, toad," Therdig said. We Britons did not recognize the title Bretwalda, but I used it to placate the Saxon chief. Arthur, who understood nothing of our talk, patiently waited until I was ready to translate something. He had trust in those he appointed and would not hurry me or intervene.
"The Bretwalda," Therdig said, 'is some hours from here. Can you give me some reason, toad, why I should disturb his day with news that a plague of rats, mice and grubs have crawled into his land?"
"We bring the Bretwalda more gold, Therdig," I said, 'than you can dream of. Gold for your men, for your wives, for your daughters, even enough for your slaves. Is that reason enough?"
"Show me, toad."
It was a risk, but Arthur willingly took it, taking Therdig and six of his men back to the mules and there revealing the great hoard stowed in the sacks. The risk was that Therdig might decide the fortune was worth a fight there and then, but we outnumbered him, and the sight of Arthur's men on their big horses was a fearsome deterrent, so he merely took three gold coins and said he would report our presence to the Bretwalda. "You will wait at the Stones," he ordered us. "Be there by evening and my King shall come to you in the morning." The command told us that Aelle must have been warned of our approach and must also have guessed what our business was. "You may stay at the Stones in peace," Therdig told us, 'until the Bretwalda decides your fate."
That evening, for it took us all afternoon to reach the Stones, was the first time I ever saw the great ring. Merlin had often spoken of them, and Nimue had heard of their power, but no one knew who had made them or why the great dressed boulders were arrayed in their towering circle. Nimue was sure that only the Gods could have made such a place and so she chanted prayers as we approached the grey, lonely monoliths whose evening shadows stretched dark and long across the pale grassland. A ditch surrounded the Stones that were formed into a great circle of pillars with other stones forming lintels above, while inside that massive and crude arcade were more vast upright rocks that stood close around a slab like altar. There were plenty of other stone circles in Britain, some even larger in their circumference, but none of such mystery and majesty and all of us were awed and silent as we approached.
Nimue cast her spells, then told us it was safe to cross the ditch and so we wandered in wonder among these boulders of the Gods. Lichens grew thick on the Stones, some of which had canted or even fallen over the long years, while others were deeply carved with Roman names and numerals. Gereint had held the lordship of these Stones, an office devised by Uther to reward the man responsible for holding our eastern border against the Saxons, though now a new man would have to take the title and try to thrust Aelle back beyond burned Durocobrivis. It was shameful, Nimue told me, that Aelle had demanded to meet us here, so deep inside Dumnonia.
There were woods in a valley a mile to the south and we used the mules to fetch enough timber to make a fire that burned bright through all that ghost-haunted night. More fires burned just beyond our eastern skyline, evidence that the Saxons had followed us. It was a nervous night. Our fire burned like a blaze of Beltain, but the flame-shadows on the stones still unnerved us. Nimue cast spells of safety around the ditch and that precaution calmed our men, but the picketed horses whinnied and trampled the turf all night long. Arthur suspected they could smell the Saxon war dogs, but Nimue was certain that the spirits of the dead were whirling all about us. Our sentries gripped their spear-shafts and challenged every wind that sighed across the grave mounds surrounding the Stones, but no dog, ghoul or warrior disturbed us, though few of our number slept.
Arthur slept not at all. At one point in the night he asked me to walk with him and I paced beside him around the outer circle of big stones. He walked without speaking for a while, his head bare to the stars. "I was here once before," he broke his silence abruptly.
"When, Lord?" I asked.
"Ten years ago. Maybe eleven." He shrugged as though the number of years was not important. "Merlin brought me here." He fell silent again and I said nothing for I sensed from his last words that this place held a special place in his memory. It did too, for he at last stopped pacing and pointed toward the grey rock that lay like an altar at the heart of the Stones. "It was there, Derfel, that Merlin gave me Caledfwlch."
I glanced down at the sword's cross-hatched scabbard. "A noble gift, Lord," I said.
"A heavy one, Derfel. It came with a burden." He plucked my arm so that we continued walking. "He gave it to me on condition that I did what he ordered me to do, and I obeyed him. I went to Benoic and I learned from Ban what a king's duties are. I learned that a king is only as good as the poorest man under his rule. That was Ban's lesson."
"It wasn't a lesson that Ban learned himself," I said bitterly, thinking how Ban had ignored his people to enrich Ynys Trebes.
Arthur smiled. "Some men are better at knowing than doing, Derfel. Ban was very wise, but not practical. I have to be both."
"To be a king?" I dared to ask, for stating such an ambition was counter to everything Arthur claimed about his destiny.
But Arthur took no offence at my words. "To be a ruler," he said. He had stopped again and was staring over the dark cloaked shapes of his sleeping men at the stone in the circle's centre, and to me it seemed as if the slab of rock shimmered in the moonlight, or perhaps that was just my heightened imagination. "Merlin made me strip naked and stand on that stone all night long," Arthur went on. "There was rain on the wind and it was cold. He chanted spells and made me hold the sword at arm's length and keep it there. I remember my arm was like fire and then at last it went numb, but still he would not let me drop Caledfwlch. "Hold it!" he shouted at me, "hold it," and I stood there, quivering while he summoned the dead to witness his gift. And they came, Derfel, rank on rank of the dead, warriors with empty eyes and rusted helmets who rose from the Otherworld to see the sword given to me." He shook his head at the memory. "Or perhaps I just dreamed those worm-eaten men. I was young, you see, and very impressionable, and Merlin does know how to put the fear of the Gods into young minds. Once he'd scared me with the throng of dead witnesses, though, he told me how to lead men, how to find warriors who need leaders and how to fight battles. He told me my destiny, Derfel." He fell silent again, his long face very grim in the moonlight. Then he smiled ruefully. "All nonsense."
His last two words had been spoken so softly that I had almost not heard them. "Nonsense?" I asked, unable to hide my disapproval.
"I am to yield Britain back to her Gods," Arthur said, mocking the duty by the tone of his voice.
"You will, Lord," I said.
He shrugged. "Merlin wanted a strong arm to hold a good sword," he said, 'but what the Gods want, Derfel, I do not know. If they want Britain, why do they need me? Or Merlin? Do Gods need men? Or are we like dogs barking for masters who don't want to listen?"
"We aren't dogs," I said. "We're the creatures of the Gods. They must have a purpose for us."
"Must they? Maybe we just make them laugh."
"Merlin says we've lost touch with the Gods," I said stubbornly.
"Just as Merlin has lost touch with us," Arthur said firmly. "You saw how he ran from Durnovaria that night you returned from Ynys Trebes. Merlin is too busy, Derfel. Merlin is chasing his Treasures of Britain and what we do in Dumnonia is of no consequence to him. I could make a great kingdom for Mordred, I could establish justice, I could bring peace, I could have Christians and pagans dancing in the moonlight together and none of that would interest Merlin. Merlin only yearns for the moment when all of it is given back to the Gods, and when that moment comes he'll demand I give Caledfwlch back to him. That was his other condition. I could take the sword of the Gods, he said, so long as I gave it back when he needed it."
He had spoken with a trace of mockery that had disturbed me. "Don't you believe in Merlin's dream?" I asked.
"I believe Merlin is the wisest man in Britain," Arthur said seriously, 'and that he knows more than I might ever hope to know. I also know that my fate is twisted into his, just as yours, I think, is twisted into Nimue's, but I also think that Merlin was bored from the moment he was born, so Merlin is doing what the Gods do. He is amusing himself at our expense. Which means, Derfel, that when the moment comes to return Caledfwlch it will be at a time when I need the sword most."
"So what will you do?"
"I have no idea. None." He seemed to find that thought amusing for he smiled, then put a hand on my shoulder. "Go and sleep, Derfel. I need your tongue tomorrow and I don't want it slurred by tiredness."
I left him, and somehow I did snatch a few moments' sleep in the moon-cast shadow of a looming stone, though before I slept I lay thinking about that far-off night when Merlin had made Arthur's arm ache with the weight of the sword and his soul heavy with the greater burden of fate. Why had Merlin chosen Arthur, I wondered, for it seemed to me now that Arthur and Merlin were opposed. Merlin believed that chaos could only be defeated by harnessing the powers of mystery, while Arthur believed in the powers of men. It could be, I thought, that Merlin had trained Arthur to rule men so as to leave himself free to rule the dark powers, but I also realized, however dimly, that the moment might come when we would all have to choose between them and I feared that moment. I prayed it would never come. Then I slept until the sun rose to lance the shadow of a single stone pillar that stood isolated outside the circle straight into the very heart of the Stones where we tired warriors guarded a kingdom's ransom.
