Yseult: A Tale of Love in the Age of King Arthur (54 page)

Kustennin is well, as am I. He now pulls himself up on the furniture. I suspect he will take his first steps before Christmas.

I am glad there has not yet been any serious fighting. Stay safe for our sakes.

Your Yseult

Drystan to Yseult, greetings.

Arthur sends his thanks for the mounts Cai received in Caer Leon.

Please forgive the lateness of this reply. We have been harrying the camps of the enemy, striking and retreating in different places along the western and northern border of Ceint to try to keep them from advancing any farther. Without Cai's new cavalry, our goal can be no more than containment until winter comes. I'm sure even in Dumnonia you have heard that Londinium has fallen. There is so little we can do with so few men.

I wish I could be there to see Kustennin's first steps. You must keep me informed as to how he does, how he grows. Cador asks after him often and sends his greetings.

I will send this missive to Lansyen, since I assume by now your household will have moved. There will be no winter break for us this year. The men Arthur could spare for the harvest have returned, and those of us who have more experience in Arthur's forces must spend the winter months training as many recruits as we can. We will likely divide the troops between Verulamium and Calleva so that we can continue with smaller strikes against the Saxons when the weather permits.

I hope the journey to Lansyen was uneventful and this finds you all well.

Your Drystan

Yseult to Drystan, greetings.

I hope this letter finds its way to you, as in your last you did not tell me where you would be spending the winter.

I must admit, I do not like the thought of you wintering so close to the enemy. What is to keep the Saxons from carrying out smaller sorties just as Arthur does?

We will miss seeing you this winter. Your father has requested we join him in Isca in the new year to show us how work on his villa progresses. I will be curious to see this Isca of which your father is so fond, but I think after Verulamium nothing can impress me the same way.

Kustennin has taken his first steps alone, but he does not yet have the balance for it and ends up mostly on his bottom. He is a stubborn one, though, and a few bruises do not scare him.

Let us know where you are and how you are doing, and please convey our greetings to Cador as well.

Your Yseult

* * * *

Kurvenal to Brangwyn, greetings.

While I do not want you to worry, at the same time I must admit I am gratified that you might be concerned for me. Is that too selfish? Perhaps. But love always contains a selfish element, don't you think?

To set you mind at ease, the season is too late now to fear much in the way of Saxon attacks. We have settled at Verulamium for the winter and will most likely be celebrating the Christmas holidays in the barracks and the town houses occupied by the officers. Drystan and I are lodged in a town house not far from the one Marcus took before Ambrosius left for Gaul. Thus, you can imagine where I am while I imagine you in the midst of the ever-present fog of Lansyen, the mists rising from the river below and the light rain coming from the heavens above.

It is different here than when you visited last, however; the refugees from Londinium crowd into the empty spaces, putting walls of wood up under awnings that were once passageways for pedestrians, raiding the ruins of the theater and the temple for building materials. Arthur allows all of this, for a price —any able-bodied man who wants to find protection behind the thick Roman walls must also train as a soldier, militia for the defense of the town, and any family with more than one mount must give at least one up to the mobile fighting units. They do it willingly. Those once driven out by the Saxons do not see it as too high a price to pay.

I hope this finds you, Yseult, and Kustennin well. We think of you more often than you can know.

Your Kurvenal

Brangwyn to Kurvenal, greetings.

It is strangely comforting to imagine you in Verulamium, a place I know, if not well. What is it like in winter? Does the heating in the Roman town houses still work?

We could do with some Roman heating here in our drafty hill-fort. I swear, our location attracts any winds which whip across the Dumnonian peninsula. It is no wonder Marcus prefers Isca, although I hear he cannot find workers trained to repair the hypocaust in his villa. At least it is not perched upon a hill to catch every wind which passes by. Yseult is having a new hall built in the lee of the western wall. She worries about Kustennin's health, but I do not know why — he is surely the most robust little boy ever born.

For the Christian holiday of Christmas, we gave the midwinter gifts and passed the light from house to house in the village. It is still surprising to me how many of the celebrations are so like those in Eriu — here, in this Romanized country which has thrown over belief in the old gods. In a strange way they are still alive.

I still will not speak with you of love, Kurvenal, so please do not try to trick me into it. I am glad to hear you are in little danger of having to fight — for now.

Your Brangwyn

Kurvenal to Brangwyn, greetings.

It is always a great joy to receive a letter from you, even if you close with scolding. I will endeavor to avoid speaking of love to you, if that is what you wish, although my heart is full. At weapons practice, at the games and the races we hold when the weather permits, at the mock battles on horseback, it is your dark hair and bright eyes I think of, you I turn to for comfort, even if it is only in thought. You are my peace in a world of war, the comfortable home I long to find.

It looks to be a mild spring, and Arthur has us already training to slip behind Saxon lines and make them regret that they ever underestimated the resistance of the British.

Your Kurvenal

Brangwyn to Kurvenal, greetings.

I received your last missive late, as we traveled to Isca for Kustennin's first birthday. It was not an ideal visit — Marcus and Yseult barely speak, and although his mistress Trephina was given a house outside of the villa for the space of our stay, the servants in Isca feel loyalty to her and not Yseult and made our lives difficult. There, they have no cause to love Yseult as they do in Lansyen and Dyn Tagell. She cured ills that were brought her while we were there, and those who profited from her knowledge were grateful, but we only remained a ten-day.

You may wonder why Marcus does not participate in the defense of Britain himself, as do many regional kings. It is his opinion that he has done his duty by sending troops to Arthur, and "this time" he is going to see to it that Isca is defended.

It is good to be back in Lansyen. Marcus is proud of his little boy, his "Constantine," but he does not love him. He is a possession, as is everything else.

Your Brangwyn

Kurvenal to Brangwyn, greetings.

Believe me, Brangwyn, nothing selfish that Marcus does could surprise me.

I noticed with chagrin that you ignored the fine words of my last letter. And I spent so much time on them, writing them into my wax tablet first before committing them to the wooden sheet where they cannot be rubbed out again. I suppose I deserve it — you told me not to speak of love and longing and loyalty, and I find over and over again that I cannot fulfill your request.

Would you rather hear of war? There is much to tell. Given the mild March weather, the Saxons have begun to move west along the Tamesis. We engage their forces regularly and have been able to push them back to Londinium each time, but without more support from the regional kings farther from the area of battle, our resistance will soon be broken.

I am grateful that you at least remain safe.

Your Kurvenal

Brangwyn to Kurvenal, greetings.

I beg you, do not scare me so. Resistance broken? What will become of the rest of Britain if that comes true? I have spoken with Yseult of this, and we have decided to start our own campaign to enlist more help for Arthur. Soon we will return to Dyn Tagell. On the way, we will visit the local kings. Yseult has already sent to Ginevra; we hope her father Gwythyr can be persuaded to lead new forces to Verulamium.

Kurvenal, if you can be happy with my loyalty, you already have that — as long as you never harm anyone else I love.

Forgive the shortness of this note; we must pack for the journey. I hope the roads are not too muddy still.

Your Brangwyn

* * * *

Kurvenal sat on his pallet in the room he shared with Drystan near the forum of Verulamium and stared at the thin sheets of wood in her charmingly unsure hand.
Anyone else I love
. Perhaps it did not mean what he hoped he meant, but he could cling to that, couldn't he? They had just returned from a six-day campaign against Saxons troops on the road to Pontes, trying to keep them from conquering the next town east of Calleva — and much too close to the center of British power. He was tired and dirty and sweating and needed to seek a healer about a myriad of wounds on his arms and legs, luckily none of them serious.

Didn't he deserve to imagine that those four words meant more than she might have intended?

Chapter 24

Did not Manawyd bring back

A pierced shield from Tryvrwyd? . . .

They fell a hundred at a time

Before Bodwyr . . .

On the shores of Tryvrwyd.

The Black Book of Carmarthen

Reinforcements from Dumnonia led by Gwythyr arrived in Verulamium in June. Drystan had told Arthur that Yseult intended to try to organize more Dumnonian support, but given the general's wide-eyed expression as the troops neared the town on the road from the southwest, he had not believed it.

Or had not believed it could be so much. The troops at Gwythyr's back were probably three hundred strong, all of them mounted.

In front of the Calleva gate, Gwythyr dismounted and removed his helmet, shaking out his graying blond hair. "Queen Yseult has taken Ginevra to live in Dyn Tagell where she will be safer and has promised to see to the defense of Celliwig."

Arthur nodded shortly, trying not to show his surprise. "She is a good queen, and loyal."

Everyone within hearing knew what he didn't say — more loyal than her husband, although she was Erainn and he was British.

"They are as yet untrained in warfare on horseback," Gwythyr said. "But they will learn if you teach them."

"We will."

With the help of the newly trained Dumnonian cavalry, they were able to take back Pontes on the road to Calleva, which they had lost in May.

But when the signal fires came from the west in the dog days of August, the fighting men of Arthur's forces knew that even with three new centuries, it would not be enough.

* * * *

Between the tents of the camp on the banks of the Tribruit River, the smell of wood smoke mixed with the smell of meat and carrots and wild onions, a hearty evening stew for men who had ridden hard for three days. Corinium was behind them and Glevum in front of them — where the enemy camped on the banks of the Sabrina River.

A Saxon enemy, not Erainn, although attacking from the west. The messenger sent by Arthur's half-brother Madoc in the wake of the fire signals had met them on the road to Corinium and given them the details. Saxon ships led by Hengist's sons Octha and Aesc had sailed all the way around the Dumnonian peninsula to launch attacks along the Sabrina, laying siege to Glevum in the heart of British territory, while their father Hengist continued to attack along the border of Ceint, moving forward towards Verulamium and Calleva — in the direction where his sons were attacking in the west.

If they were successful, they would cut the British kingdoms in half.

Drystan strummed idly on the strings of his harp, and although he played no song and sang no tune, men began to gather around him as they waited for the meal to finish cooking. Here or there they sharpened a knife or polished a short sword or mended a damaged saddlebag.

It was clear to Drystan that the warriors found the gentle series of notes soothing, and he continued to play. They all deserved to be soothed now. Londinium had already fallen; they could not allow Corinium too to fall, the second largest city of Britain. But how were they to push back this new wave of Saxons when they had two fronts on which to fight? Arthur had left the majority of his men to defend the western border, led by Gwythyr, Oneon, and Natanleod, and ably assisted by Cador.