Stephen Lawhead - Pendragon

'Listen to me, Mercia,' I said. 'You are closer to your desire than you know. Trust and believe.'

He regarded me suspiciously, and I feared I had pressed him too far. Mercia threw a quick sideways glance at his men, who were watching us closely. He uttered a low, growling command, but they made no move or response.

Turning back to me he said, 'Do you know my thought, truly?'

'It is as I have told you,' I replied. 'I know a great many things.'

'I will never betray my lord,' he said, and I sensed the shape of his fear.

'I seek an honourable settlement,' I assured him. 'Treachery will have no part in it, neither betrayal.' I held him with the uncompromising certainty of my voice. 'But I demand honour for honour; loyalty must be repaid with loyalty. Do you understand?'

He nodded. There was nothing sly about his acceptance, but I wanted assurance.

'Hear me, Mercia, the honour I demand is costly indeed. It will be bought with blood.'

'I understand,' he muttered impatiently. He glanced sideways again, then said, 'What must I do?'

'Only this,' I spoke in an ominous tone, raising my hand in the gesture of command, 'when the time comes to add your voice to the support of peace you must not be silent.'

He did not expect that. I could see him struggling to find a hidden meaning in my words. 'Is there nothing else?'

'That is enough. Truly, it is more than many brave men will dare.'

He drew himself up. 'My courage has never been doubted.'

'I believe you.'

'When will this take place?'

'Soon.'

He rose abruptly, and stood over me, at once menacing and wary. 'I could kill you now and no one would know.'

'Yes. That is true.'

'You said I must trust you, yet you offer no token of trust.' His hand tightened on his spear.

'Then accept this as a sign,' I replied, rising slowly to my feet to face him. 'There will be no attack against you tomorrow. The British will remain in camp, nursing their wounds. Tell this to Amilcar.'

He turned on his heel and, snapping a quick order to his men, disappeared into the shadows. The men stood watching me, and I feared Mercia had indeed ordered my death. I remained motionless – resistance was impossible, and flight

would do no good. The spears swung up with a decisive motion. With an effort I held myself steady.

Within the space of three heartbeats, the warriors were gone, melting quietly back into the darkness.

I listened for them, but heard only the faint murmur of voices rising from the camp below. I turned to see the campfires shining bright as earthbound stars, and sweet relief gave way to sudden apprehension.

Great Light, what have I done?

I maintained my vigil through the night, heart and mind clutching tight to the slender hope that had been granted me: the saving of Britain and the Kingdom of Summer. Since even the most compelling dreams can dissipate into the empty air when touched by the sun's hard light, I waited for what the day would bring – hope refreshed, or despair confirmed.

Certainty of purpose came with the dawn. Up I rose, thanking the High King of Heaven and all his saints and angels for the weapon delivered into my hand. As the sun rose blood-red over the eastern ridge, I returned to camp to find the war host already stirring, readying themselves for the day's battle.

I went directly to Arthur's tent and he admitted me, yawning and scratching himself. Following him into the tent, I could not help noticing that Gwenhwyvar was nowhere in sight. 'She prefers to bathe early,' Arthur said.

'I would speak to you alone first,' I replied, and told him about my chance encounter with Mercia, and what the young battlechief had told me of dissention among the Vandali. The king sat in his chair before me, shaking his head. 'Do you understand what I am telling you?'

Arthur frowned. No, he did not understand at all. 'Why must we stay in camp?'

'Because,' I explained, 'I promised it to Mercia. I gave this in pledge for my life.'

Before Arthur could make further objection, Bedwyr came to the tent and called for the king. 'I am here, brother,' Arthur answered. 'I will join you in a moment.'

'Well?' I demanded. 'What is it to be?'

Arthur hesitated; he frowned at me and rubbed his hands over his face. 'Oh, very well,' he said at last. 'I will not make a liar of you. There are many among us who would welcome a day's rest in any event.'

We stepped from the tent to greet Bedwyr. 'The war host is ready,' he said. 'The chieftains await your command.’

‘There will be no battle today,' Arthur told him bluntly. Bedwyr glanced at me in surprise. 'Why, Bear? What has happened?'

'I have changed my mind. I have decided to give the men a day's rest.'

'But everyone is ready! We have full assembly of the greatest warband since -'

'Tell them, Bedwyr. Tell them all we will not fight today.’

‘I will tell them,' he growled. Turning on his heel, he hastened away.

No sooner had Bedwyr departed than we heard shouts from the far perimeter of the camp where a commotion had broken out. 'Now what?' Arthur muttered, glaring at me as if it were my doing. Bedwyr, hearing the uproar, came running back to the king.

Rhys appeared on the run. 'Vandali!' he shouted. 'So much for your day of rest, Bear,' Bedwyr grumbled. 'Will you give the order?’

‘Wait!' I said. 'Not yet.'

Rhys ran to where we stood. 'Vandali,' he said breathlessly. 'Five of them. They advance with willow branches. The slave is with them. I think they want to parley.'

Bedwyr and Rhys looked to Arthur, awaiting what he would say. Arthur looked to me. 'I know nothing of this,' I told him. 'Very well,' said Arthur, 'let them come to me and we will hear what they have to say.'

We waited before the tent while Rhys conducted the enemy envoy to us. As he said, there were five: the four warlords we had met before, including Mercia, and the captured priest, Hergest. All the British lords came running to see what was to take place, so the emissaries arrived amidst a great crowd of onlookers. Gwenhwyvar, Cai, and Cador pushed through to stand beside Arthur and me.

'Greetings, Lord Arthur,' Hergest began. 'We beg to speak with you and to return to our camp unharmed.'

'Speak freely, priest,' Arthur said. 'I give you my word that no hurt shall come to you while you are under my protection. Why have you come?'

Before the priest could reply, one of the barbarian chieftains – the one called Ida, I think – pointed to all the men pressing close, and uttered a long complaint in their rough tongue. 'He says that your word is worthless,' Hergest informed us. 'Merlin vowed you would not ride today and yet we see that you ready yourselves for battle.'

Bedwyr threw me a questioning glance, which I ignored. Arthur replied, 'I was not informed of Myrddin's pledge until a moment ago, and have only just given the order to stand down. Even so, we are ready to fight if pressed to it.'

While the slave repeated Arthur's words, I sought Mercia's eye. He saw me watching him and, with a slight but deliberate downward jerk of his chin, gave me to know that he accepted this explanation.

'We, too, are ready to fight,' Hergest said, resuming his communication. 'However, it is in Amilcar's mind that the War Leader Arthur has remained shielded behind his warriors long enough. The Black Boar is minded that the two kings meet and prove before both nations which of them is the greater battlechief.'

'Indeed,' remarked Arthur. 'And does Amilcar say how he proposes to make this proof?'

The slave relayed Arthur's reply to Ida, who responded with a sneer and another long utterance. 'Ida says that Amilcar will meet Arthur alone on the plain beside the river which lies between our two camps, bringing whatever weapons the British warrior favors. When the sun passes midday, the two will fight. The combat will continue until one or the other is killed.' Hergest paused, and Ida spoke again. 'Amilcar makes this challenge, though he does not expect Arthur to accept it,' the slave added.