Bernard Cornwell - Enemy of God

‘You arranged our deaths,’ I accused him.

He blanched. ‘On my soul, Derfel, no! No!’ He made the sign of the cross. ‘May the angels tear out my tongue and feed it to the devil if it lies to you. I swear by Almighty God, Derfel, that I knew nothing.’

That lie told, he glanced round again, then looked back to me. ‘Dinas and Lavaine,’ he said softly, ‘stand guard over Guinevere at the Sea Palace. Remember it was I, Lord, who told you that.’

I smiled. ‘You don’t want Bors to know you betrayed that knowledge to me, do you?’

‘No, Lord, please!’

‘Then this should convince him of your innocence,’ I said, and gave the mouse-lord a box round his ears that must have had his head ringing like the great bell at his shrine. He spun down to the turf from where he shrieked curses at me as I walked away. I understood now why Sansum had come to this high fortress beneath the sky. The mouse-lord could see clearly enough that Arthur’s survival threatened Lancelot’s new throne and no man could blithely keep his faith in a master who was opposed by Arthur. Sansum, just like his wife, was making sure I owed him thanks.

‘What was that about?’ Arthur asked me when I caught up with him.

‘He told me Dinas and Lavaine are at the Sea Palace. They guard Guinevere.’

Arthur grunted, then looked up at the sun-blanched moon hanging above us. ‘How many nights till the full, Derfel?’

‘Five?’ I guessed. ‘Six? Merlin will know.’

‘Six days to decide,’ he said, then stopped and stared at me. ‘Will they dare kill her?’

‘No, Lord,’ I said, hoping I was right. ‘They daren’t make an enemy out of you. They want you to come to take their oath and then they’ll kill you. After that they might kill her.’

‘And if I don’t come,’ he said softly, ‘they’ll still hold her. And so long as they hold her, Derfel, I’m helpless.’

‘You have a sword, Lord, and a spear and a shield. No man would call you helpless.’

Behind us Bors and his men clambered into their saddles and rode away. We stayed a few moments longer to gaze west from Dun Ceinach’s ramparts. It was one of the most beautiful views in all Britain, a hawk’s-eye view west across the Severn and deep into distant Siluria. We could see for miles and miles, and from this high place it looked so sunlit, green and beautiful. It was a place to fight for. And we had six nights till the moon was full.

‘Seven nights,’ Merlin said.

‘You’re sure?’ Arthur asked.

‘Maybe six,’ Merlin allowed. ‘I do hope you don’t expect me to make the computation? It’s a very tedious business. I did it often enough for Uther and almost always got it wrong. Six or seven, near enough. Maybe eight.’

‘Malaine will work it out,’ Cuneglas said. We had returned from Dun Ceinach to rind that Cuneglas had come from Powys. He had brought Malaine with him after meeting the Druid who had been accompanying Ceinwyn and the other women northwards. The King of Powys had embraced me and sworn his own revenge on Dinas and Lavaine. He had brought sixty spearmen in his entourage and told us another hundred were already following him southwards. More would come, he said, for Cuneglas expected to fight and he was generously providing every warrior he commanded. His sixty warriors now squatted with Arthur’s men around the edges of Glevum’s great hall as their lords talked in the hall’s centre. Only Sagramor was not there, for he was with his remaining spearmen harrying Cerdic’s army near Corinium. Meurig was present, and unable to hide his annoyance that Merlin had taken the large chair at the head of the table. Cuneglas and Arthur flanked Merlin, Meurig faced Merlin down the table’s length and Culhwch and I had the other two places. Culhwch had come to Glevum with Cuneglas and his arrival had been like a gust of fresh clean air in a smoky hall. He could not wait to fight. He declared that with Mordred dead Arthur was King of Dumnonia and Culhwch was ready to wade through blood to protect his cousin’s throne. Cuneglas and I shared that belligerence, Meurig squeaked about prudence, Arthur said nothing, while Merlin appeared to be asleep. I doubted he was sleeping for a small smile showed on his face, but his eyes were closed as he pretended to be blissfully unaware of all we said.

Culhwch scorned Bors’s message. He insisted Lancelot would never kill Guinevere, and that all Arthur needed to do was ride south at the head of his men and the throne would fall into his hands. ‘Tomorrow!’

Culhwch told Arthur. ‘We’ll ride tomorrow. It’ll all be over in two days.’

Cuneglas was slightly more cautious, advising Arthur that he should wait for the rest of his Powysian spearmen to arrive, but once those men had come he was sure we should declare war and go southwards. ‘How big is Lancelot’s army?’ he asked.

Arthur shrugged. ‘Not counting Cerdic’s men? Maybe three hundred?’

‘Nothing!’ Culhwch roared. ‘Have them dead before breakfast.’

‘And a lot of fiery Christians,’ Arthur warned him.

Culhwch offered an opinion of Christians that had the Christian Meurig spluttering with indignation. Arthur calmed the young King of Gwent. ‘You’re all forgetting something,’ he said mildly. ‘I never wanted to be King. I still don’t.’

There was a momentary silence around the table, though some of the warriors at the hall’s edge muttered a protest at Arthur’s words. ‘Whatever you might want,’ Cuneglas broke our silence, ‘does not matter any more. The Gods, its seems, have made that decision for you.’

‘If the Gods wanted me to be King,’ Arthur said, ‘they would have arranged for my mother to have been married to Uther.’

‘So what do you want?’ Culhwch bellowed in despair.

‘I want Guinevere and Gwydre back,’ Arthur said softly. ‘And Cerdic defeated,’ he added before staring down at the table’s scarred top for a moment. ‘I want to live,’ he went on, ‘like an ordinary man. With a wife and a son and a house and a farm. I want peace,’ and for once he was not talking of all Britain, but just of himself. ‘I don’t want to be tangled in oaths, I don’t want to be forever dealing with men’s ambitions and I don’t want to be the arbiter of men’s happiness any more. I just want to do what King Tewdric did. I want to find a green place and live there.’

‘And rot away?’ Merlin gave up his pretence of sleep.

Arthur smiled. ‘There is so much to learn, Merlin. Why does a man make two swords from the same metal in the same fire and one blade will be true and the other will bend in its first battle? There is so much to find out.’

‘He wants to be a blacksmith,’ Merlin said to Culhwch.

‘What I want is Guinevere and Gwydre back,’ Arthur declared firmly.

‘Then you must take Lancelot’s oath,’ Meurig said.

‘If he goes to Caer Cadarn to take Lancelot’s oath,’ I said bitterly, ‘he’ll be met by a hundred armed men and cut down like a dog.’

‘Not if I take Kings with me,’ Arthur said gently.

We all stared at him and he seemed surprised that we had been nonplussed by his words. ‘Kings?’

Culhwch finally broke the silence.

Arthur smiled. ‘If my Lord King Cuneglas and my Lord King Meurig were to ride with me to Caer Cadarn then I doubt that Lancelot would dare to kill me. If he’s faced by the Kings of Britain he will have to talk, and if he talks we shall come to an agreement. He fears me, but if he discovers there is nothing to fear, he will let me live. And he will let my family live.’

There was another silence while we digested that, then Culhwch roared a protest. ‘You’d let that bastard Lancelot be King?’ Some of the spearmen at the hall’s edge growled their agreement.