Arthur stood as one carved of stone. Not a muscle twitched.
Medraut stood over the queen and grabbed a handful of her dark hair. He jerked her head up, exposing her throat. Steel glinted in his hand. A knife!
Medraut shouted again. Arthur made an answer.
The knife flashed as it rose high in the air and struck swiftly down.
My heart stopped.
I opened my mouth to scream. Arthur's spear was in the air before the sound left my tongue.
Straight and true, like God's swift judgement, the spear streaked across the distance between them. I have never seen a spear thrown so swiftly, or with such force. It struck Medraut in the chest and pierced him through.
Arthur was on him in the same instant, driving the spear deeper. But Medraut, heedless of his wound, grasped the spear in his hands, and pulled himself up the shaft towards Arthur. He slashed wildly with the knife and caught Arthur a glancing blow.
Arthur dropped the spear and the traitor fell back writhing on the ground. The Pendragon drew Caliburnus and struck off Medraut's head.
I saw this clearly – and just as clearly saw Keldrych raise his spear and signal the attack. Instantly, the glen was alive with Picti! They came squirming out of the very ground it seemed – leaping up from behind rocks and bushes, and up out of shallow holes where they had hidden themselves.
'Ambush!' shouted Cador, and cursed, striking the ground with his sword.
Keldrych had hidden half of his warband in the glen and now they sprang to the attack – sixty in all, at least. The Pendragon was surrounded.
Gwenhwyvar ran to Medraut, plucked the spear from his chest and turned to stand beside her husband. They stood together to face the onslaught.
In the same instant, across the glen, a tremendous cry burst forth from fifty thousand throats as the hidden Picti rose up. Spears in hand, they stood on the hilltops, poised for attack, venting their hideous battle shriek. My skin pricked to hear it.
'Hurry!' I shouted at Cador. 'Sound the attack!'
Cador, his face grim and his jaw set, shook his head. 'I ' cannot. I am ordered to stand firm unless the Picti attack.'
'Look!' I flung my hand to the battle ground below. 'They attack!'
'I cannot!' Cador cried. 'I have my orders!'
They will be killed!'
'God knows!' Cador screamed. 'But unless the war host commits to battle, I can do nothing!'
I understood then. However things went between Medraut and the High King, Arthur had made Ban and Cador vow not to interfere. So long as the main force of Picti held back, the British would not provoke them. If there was to be war, the Pendragon's host would not begin it. As the main force of the enemy had not yet joined battle, Cador could do nothing.
In a fever of horror and rage, I turned back to the crooked glen. Arthur had unslung Prydwen and Gwenhwyvar now held it. The Picti were upon them, but the warriors of the Round Table, the Flight of Dragons, charged into the fray.
The renowned Dragons met the Picti just as they reached Arthur. I stood amazed at how masterfully the Britons engaged the enemy, divided them, and began turning the attack aside.
Cai and Bedwyr, riding side by side, drove in towards the centre of Keldrych's warband, their spears carrying the enemy before them. Gwalcmai and Gwalchavad struck in from the right, scattering the enemy as they thundered past. Bors, Llenlleawg and Rhys moved in from the left, hewing into the Picti, reapers at a bloody harvest.
In the churning mass of bodies, limbs and weapons, I saw the Pendragon's mighty sword Caliburnus rising and falling with relentless strokes, each blow a killing blow. The stream ran red; the water scarlet.
Any moment I expected to see the great Picti war host join Keldrych in the glen. But each time I stole a glance to the hills I saw them standing as before. What were they waiting for?
Sharp the battle clash that filled the air, a deafening din: shouting, screaming, shrieking, all dreadful to hear. The first frenzy passed and the combatants settled into the inexorable rhythm of the fight. Everywhere I looked, the enemy surged, struggling to join their ranks. Keldrych stood in the centre of the field, attempting to calm his frantic troops.
The Picti, however, dashed here and there to little purpose, striking out wildly and then running away. The Britons exploited this weakness and I marvelled at their dire efficiency. Fully half of Keldrych's warband lay dead on the ground before he succeeded in uniting his troops.
But once united, the rout slowed. The slaughter began to go the other way. The Picti advanced, stumbling over the bodies of their companions, forcing the Flight of Dragons back across the red-foaming stream.
God in heaven! Gwenhwyvar fell! Four big barbarians drove her down with spears… I could not look.
But the queen's fall did not go unnoticed. From out of nowhere faithful Llenlleawg appeared. He heaved his spear through the stomach of the largest Pict. The others fell back momentarily and the fearless Irishman threw himself from the saddle, snatched up Gwenhwyvar and lifted her to his horse.
The queen, the bloody shaft of a broken spear in her hand, threw the useless weapon aside and her champion pressed his sword into her hand. The enemy rushed in again. Llenlleawg turned to face them. He leapt onto the back of the foremost Pict, hacking with his knife and was carried down as the body fell. That was the last I saw of him.
Gwenhwyvar, saved from one death, now faced another. Three more Picti flew at her, even as she wheeled to Llenlleawg's aid. Two thrust at her with spears whuj; the other jabbed at the legs of her mount. With one cho^pf her sword she neatly lopped the spearhead from the sha|t, at the same time lifting the reins and bringing the horse\ forelegs off the ground. One swift hoof caught the attacked just behind the ear. His skull cracked like an egg and he fell dead to the ground.
The two remaining Picti lunged desperately. The queen knocked their spears aside with the rim of Arthur's shield, and drew her sword across their throats in a single sweeping stroke. They dropped their spears and clutched at their bubbling wounds.
Gwenhwyvar rode over them as she flew to Arthur's side once more. Bors and Rhys had joined them and together the four pushed deeper into the tumult, where Gwalcmai and Gwalchavad had become surrounded. Those two fought like giants! But spears thrust and hands reached up and I saw Gwalcmai hauled from the saddle and overwhelmed.
Gwalchavad fought on alone. Could no one save him?
I scanned the battlefield and suddenly saw the Emrys leading the remaining hostages into position behind Keldrych. The Picti, so eager to attack Arthur, had left them on the hillside. They had swiftly succeeded in freeing themselves from their bonds and were now entering the fight at the enemy's back, using weapons retrieved from the dead on the ground.
Surely now, I thought, the Picti war host will attack. But they stayed on the hilltop, never moving forward so much as a step.
The hostages joined the battle with a shout. Keldrych turned to meet them, and this was his undoing. There were fewer than ten hostages and they were on foot. More dangerous by far were the Flight of Dragons still driving into the Picti ranks. But the barbarian warband was in disarray, lurching about in confusion, flailing uselessly with their weapons.
Perhaps he thought that subduing the Britons on foot would hearten his remaining warband – numbering less than twenty now. Or perhaps he hoped to take the Emrys hostage once more and force Arthur to grant him quarter. I cannot say, but turning away from the Pendragon was a deadly mistake. Keldrych did not live to make another.
For the Pendragon saw the Pict chieftain turn and in the sajne instant struck. Caliburnus cut a terrible swath. No one cpuld stand against that invincible blade in Arthur's hands. Too late Keldrych learned of Arthur's progress. He swung round, his sword sweeping in a deadly arc. Arthur deflected the blow with his shield and drove in with the point of his sword as Keldrych's arm swung wide.