Yseult: A Tale of Love in the Age of King Arthur (33 page)

Well, now he had baths again, and he would make use of them. If much of the time he felt wildly lost, he'd have to learn to live with it.

* * * *

Drystan threw himself into the training, staying either too bone weary or drunk to be bothered by the memory of Yseult, finding comfort in wine, heavy and strong, burning away the cold of his body and soul. His only problem was that Caer Leon, as a training camp, was too safe, too far from the enemy.

At least there was much to do. With Geraint, he interviewed a number of the recruits from the south and the west, from kingdoms with a coastline, warriors from the provinces of Venedotia, Demetia and Dumnonia. Coroticus's experienced sea raiders were busy far to the north, so they would have to make do with what they had.

In addition to the standard training in combat and horsemanship, wrestling, throwing weights, and footraces up and down the hills outside of Caer Leon, the men under Drystan and Geraint's command practiced pushing landing boats into the water and dragging them on land again, raced Roman-style galleys in the Sabrina Estuary, and learned techniques for grappling and boarding an enemy ship. Much of what they learned was new to Drystan too — his experience with Riwallon was mostly either commercial or in the form of patrols of the Armorican coast.

Two weeks after their arrival in Caer Leon, Drystan was coming up the hill from the banks of the River Usk, wet and dirty from practicing speed techniques with the landing boats and sorely in need of a bath, when Bedwyr hailed him.

"Drys!"

Drystan shook his head and smiled — several of Arthur's companions had taken to calling him by Kurvenal's nickname for him.

Bedwyr gave the scroll he held to one of the workers in charge of repairing the external baths complex and hurried over to him. They all had many jobs here in Caer Leon, and Bedwyr was leading a construction team trying to keep ahead of time and wear at Arthur's main training camp.

"I saw Arthur earlier," Bedwyr said as he came up to him. "He wanted you to stop by headquarters when you returned."

Drystan gestured down at the wet legs of his breeches. "Like this? I hope I am allowed to change and wash first?"

Bedwyr gave a sardonic chuckle at the sight of the mud on his ankles. "Yes, I think he will have to excuse you a bit longer yet."

After washing, donning a fresh tunic and breeches, and rebraiding his hair, Drystan made his way to the principia. As he came through the entrance arch and into the colonnaded courtyard, he was greeted by a large crowd — all of those who were the closest he had to friends in this new life.

Kurvenal stepped forward with a glass of wine and presented it to him. "Happy birthday, Drys. I knew you would have forgotten you are turning twenty today, so I decided to remember it for you."

The well-wishers, men he knew with a scattering of women he didn't in their midst, clapped and pounded him on the back. Kurvi was right — he would gladly have forgotten his twentieth birthday, but now that he was surrounded by so many people who wished him well, he couldn't help but smile and drink with them. Arthur was there, of course, with Indeg, the young woman who presently warmed the commander's bed. Next to her, Bedwyr stood grinning at him in his typical sardonic fashion. Arthur's companions who had accompanied them north from Dyn Tagell, the men of the fighting unit he would be leading, Tuthal, Ruan, Flavius and the rest, all were there to congratulate him. Cador gave him a big hug, and his father Geraint and tutor Antonius hearty handshakes.

The wine was plenty, and judging by the smells coming from the tables set up beneath the colonnades, Arthur had even sacrificed a pig for the occasion.

Arthur came forward, a hero-worshiping Cador at his heels. Arthur cousin barely had time to shake Drystan's hand before Cador pestered him with his next question. "Which battle was your favorite in your northern campaigns?" Cador asked.

Arthur gave Drystan a wry, sidelong glance and turned his attention back to their younger relative. "There is no such thing as favorites when it comes to battles, Cador. Friends die in all of them."

Cador did not look completely convinced, but he didn't persist. "Are you glad to be in the south now, as Dux Bellorum of all of Britain?"

Arthur shrugged. "At least it's warmer here."

Drystan smiled, wondering if Cador would ever be able to find a more promising figure for his hero worship.

"Will we also be fighting Erainn pirates now that I'm your standard-bearer, or only Saxons?"

Erainn pirates. Eriu. Yseult. Drystan no longer heard Arthur's answer. The pain was back, as it almost always was. Sometimes it felt as if he spent all his energy avoiding the thought of her, pushing her to the back of his mind and tying her up in a neat little box, uselessly. The innocent question of a fourteen-year-old let her out again, waylaying him with the force of memories strong as presence. Memories and regret.

Yseult.

He turned away, towards the tables of wine at the far side of the courtyard, not wanting any of the others to see in his face what he was going through, wanting to be alone with the wrenching feeling in his stomach and his battle with himself and his thoughts.

Everyone said the pain would fade with time. If only time could pass more quickly and give him peace.

Chapter 15

Before Geraint, the enemy's scourge,

I saw white horses, tensed, red.

After the war cry, bitter the grave....

In Llongborth, I saw the clash of swords,

Men in terror, bloody heads,

Before Geraint the Great, his father's son.

In Llongborth I saw spurs

And men who did not flinch from spears,

Who drank their wine from glass that glinted....

In Llongborth I saw Arthur's

Heroes who cut with steel,

The Emperor, ruler of our labor.

Elegy for Geraint

Their first major battle that year came sooner than anyone expected. It had looked to be a calm summer. The scouts of Ambrosius had seen no troop movements along the border with Ceint where the Saxons had their strongholds, and the British army was using the time gained in further training and recruiting efforts. The battles in the north against the combined forces of the Picts and the Saxons had taken a heavy toll on their forces.

When the news came of Saxon ships landing on the southern coast, Arthur gathered his cavalry and as much of his infantry as the defense of the Caer Leon could spare and headed south.

* * * *

In Venta Belgarum, they joined forces with the troops of Ambrosius and Cerdic, grateful for the chance to pause and regain their strength after their journey halfway across southern Britain. Cai, Master of Horse, had complained constantly about the abuse their mounts had endured, but his judicious management of the spare horses saved them from any losses on the grueling ride. Whenever they could, they had requisitioned new mounts along the way, but Arthur did not want to resort to that if it could be avoided, since it often led to resentment among the general populace and local nobles.

Drystan and Kurvenal had barely gotten around to depositing their gear in their quarters in the city garrison when Arthur sought him out.

"Would you care to come along when we meet with Cerdic and Ambrosius, Cousin?" Arthur asked.

Drystan blinked, surprised. "Certainly, if you will have me." It was starting to become obvious to him that Arthur was grooming him for a leadership position among the companions. While he was flattered, he found it difficult to believe that he deserved such an honor.

Cerdic's townhouse was situated in the level southeast part of town, next to the garrison. From conversations overheard on the ride south and east, Drystan had learned that Cerdic's principal residence was a villa to the west on the road to Sarum, and he had an additional military stronghold, Caer Guinnet, to the south on the way to Portus Adurni. A wealth of residences. Although his position was military, as was Arthur's, he seemed to style himself a minor king. Guinnet was Ambrosius's base of power, which he ruled primarily from Sarum and Caer Emrys, but he had made Verulamium his main capital since being elected High King of the Britons. With the High Kingship, a governor for his own territory had become necessary, and he had instated Cerdic in Venta.

A handful of Arthur's most trusted companions waited for them in the courtyard of the garrison, and together they walked to Cerdic's townhouse. On the way, Drystan had the impression of a rich city, despite the fact that the quality of newer construction lagged far behind that of the older buildings. Before Rome left Britain to her own fate, Venta had been outgrowing its walls; there were a large number of houses outside the fortifications, Roman in construction but most now in disrepair. When they arrived, they'd stabled their mounts in a row of converted shops north of the town on the road to Calleva. Within the fortifications, on the other hand, buildings were springing up in every available space, streets nearly blocked by new dwellings built right on the cobblestones of the former roads, in the lee of old walls. Few people in this part of Britain cared to live outside of the protection of city walls anymore.

The wealth of Venta came from a textile mill in the eastern part of town near the river. Unlike other industries such as the creation of tiles and mosaics, which craftsmen seemed to have forgotten the way of since Rome no longer controlled civic administration, the mill in Venta still produced quality cloth, in demand throughout Britain and beyond.

Cerdic's residence was in surprisingly good repair —perhaps he had the services of last city masons trained in Roman building techniques. A servant met them at the door and led them into a room in the south wing of the house with a fine mosaic floor, where the Count of the Saxon Shore waited for them.

Cerdic was a large man with a wide smile, blond of hair and blue of eye, with a superficial resemblance to Cai. Drystan judged him to be a little older than Arthur. Drystan liked Cerdic on sight, despite the things his townhouse and his multiple residences might say about him.

High King Ambrosius was already there with his advisor Myrddin, as were two other men and a woman Drystan didn't know. Her hair was dark, but her eyes were the same unearthly light blue-gray as Yseult's, and he couldn't help staring. She felt his gaze on her and lifted her head to stare back. No feminine modesty, that one.

Introductions were made, and Drystan discovered she was Ambrosius's daughter Modrun, second wife of King Honorius of Gower. The other two he didn't know were Oneon, who ruled in Calleva, and his son Natanleod. Oneon was a huge man, similar to Murchad in stature.

Drystan tried to push such memories aside as they settled into the couches, and gazed down at the fine floor mosaic depicting the fall of Troy. When he raised his head again, his hands clenched at his side, he found Modrun looking at him. Something twisted in his gut, and he realized he was attracted to her — a woman at least ten years his senior, married, and nothing like Yseult?

She gave a slight shake of her head accompanied by a knowing smile, and Drystan realized that she
was
something like Yseult: this one had blood of the old ones, ways of knowing he hadn't been aware existed before his visit to Eriu, he was sure of it.

Cerdic was informing them of the situation at Portus Adurni, and Drystan pulled his attention back to the conversation.

"How many troops were stationed at Portus Adurni when Aelle attacked?" Ambrosius was asking now.

"Four centuries, under the command of Lucius Fulvianus."

Arthur shot up from his couch and faced Cerdic. "How could you leave Portus Adurni so defenseless?"

While he had to agree with the Dux Bellorum, Drystan was still surprised at his outburst — Arthur was usually very in control of his feelings, but stupidity made him wild.

Cerdic pursed his wide lips. "How am I to defend all of the southern coast with less than ten cohorts and only twenty ships, can you tell me that?"

"Less now, I take it," Myrddin said, the tone of his voice more mild than that of Arthur or Cerdic. "Or were there none in Portus Adurni?"

"Yes, three," Cerdic confirmed shortly.

"If you thought the men or supplies at your disposal insufficient, you should have applied to me," Ambrosius said, obviously trying to temper the effects of Arthur's reaction on another of his generals.

"It is too late to worry about that now," Oneon put in. "Instead of accusations, what we need is to keep the Saxons from getting a permanent foothold in Guinnet as well as Ceint."