Arthur

'Where is Gwalchavad?' asked Bedwyr gently. 'I will tell him.' Then he saw the wagon, and the men arranging the body there. 'Blessed Jesu! Cai!'

Bedwyr walked stiffly to the wagon and stood with eyes closed before it. Then he took Cai's cold hand in his and held it to his heart. After a long moment he turned and walked away.

I stayed to help with the wagon, and a little while later Bedwyr returned with Gwalchavad's body across his saddle. Gently, Bedwyr lifted the body of his sword brother and placed it beside that of Gwalcmai. Bitter were the deaths of these champions, whose lives the hateful Medraut had claimed as his blood-debt.

Arthur stood looking on in sorrow as we wrapped the corpses in deerskin. Myrddin returned, noticed the blood on the Pendragon's war shirt, and told him, 'Sit down, Arthur. You have been wounded. Let me see to it.'

'Peace,' replied Arthur, 'it is nothing. Care for the others.' He turned his gaze to the battle ground once more. 'Where is Gwenhwyvar?'

Arthur found the queen clinging to the body of her kinsman, Llenlleawg. She raised tearful eyes at her husband's approach. 'He is dead,' she said softly. 'Protecting me.'

Arthur knelt down beside her on the ground and put his arm around her shoulders. 'Cai is dead,' he told her. 'And Gwalcmai and Gwalchavad.' He regarded the queen's champion with sorrow. 'And Llenlleawg.'

At these doleful tidings Gwenhwyvar lowered her face into her hands and wept. After a time, she drew breath and composed herself, saying, 'As dark as this day is to me, it would be a thousand times darker still if you had been killed.' She paused, put a hand to Arthur's face and kissed him. 'I knew you would come for me, my soul.'

'I should not have gone away,' the High King said in a voice full of regret. 'My pride and vanity have caused the death of my most noble friends. I will bear their deaths as a weight upon my heart for ever.'

'You must not speak so,' Gwenhwyvar scolded lightly. 'Medraut is to blame and he will answer to God for his crimes.'

Arthur nodded. 'As I will answer for mine.' 'Where is Cai? And the others – where are they?' 'I have ordered a wagon to be made ready. They will be taken to the rotunda and buried there as is fitting,' he answered. 'I cannot bear to leave them here." 'It is right,' agreed Gwenhwyvar, and then noticed Arthur's wound for the first time. 'Artos – my love, you are bleeding!'

'But a scratch,' he said. 'Come, we must look after our dead.'

Of Medraut's hostages, only myself, the Emrys and Gwenhwyvar remained; the others died in the fight when they attacked Keldrych. These were brought to a place on the hillside below the fortress. A single massive grave was dug and the bodies of our sword brothers carefully placed in it. The Emrys prayed and sang holy psalms as we raised the gorsedd, the burial cairn, over them.

The corpses of the enemy we left to the wolves and ravens. Their bones would be scattered by the beasts, with never so much as a single rock to mark the place where they fell.

A little past midday, the Pendragon assembled the war host. Rhys sounded the march and we began making our slow way back to Caer Lial, moving westward along the Wall, each step heavy with grief and slow.

The bodies of the renowned battlechiefs were carried to Caer Lial where they were placed on torchlit biers in what remained of the hall of the Pendragon's palace. Much of Arthur's beloved city lay in ruins: the Picti did not restrain themselves in any way, but freely destroyed all they touched.

The next morning we departed for the Round Table. Out of respect for the holiness of the shrine, and the secret of its location, only the lords of Britain and Arthur's subject kings – the Nine Worthies – were allowed to attend the funeral at the shrine. The Emrys bade me accompany him, through no merit of my own. He required someone to serve him, and since I knew well the location of the rotunda it would save entrusting another with the secret.

The day dawned fair, the sun a dazzling white disk as we passed through the gates and out upon the road. The lords rode two by two; the four wagons followed, each one covered with a crimson cloak for a pall, and drawn by a black horse with a single raven's feather set in a golden war cap.

I did not continue with the funeral procession, but once through the gates travelled on ahead, driving one of the big supply wains. Upon reaching the shrine, I unloaded the tents and set about raising them, so that when the others arrived the camp would be ready. I went about my work quickly and with the sense that I was giving a good gift to my friends, that my labour was a devotion.

When I finished, the tents encircled the shrine and the camp was established. As I began unloading the provisions, the procession arrived. At once I fell to preparing food for them. Some of the lords helped me with this task, while the others saw to arranging the rotunda where the bodies of our beloved sword brothers would lie in state until their burial the next morning.

When the meal was ready, I carried a portion to the Pendragon's tent where the High King and Queen had withdrawn to rest. Then I sat down myself to eat. But as I glanced around I noticed that Myrddin was not among us, and remembered that I had not seen him emerge from the shrine. I put down my bowl and quickly walked up to the rotunda.

I entered the cool, dim interior. A small fire burned in the centre of the rotunda and a torch at the head of each bier. I saw that the bodies had been placed, each on its bier beneath the ledge bearing their names, and their weapons – sword, spear and shield – arranged on the ledge. The Emrys knelt beside Cai's cloak-covered body, unwrapping the leather bundle which contained the stone-carving tools.

'I have prepared food, Emrys,' I said.

'I am not hungry, Aneirin.' He picked up the scribe, turned to the ledge at hand and began with practised strokes to incise the death date below Cai's name. It broke my heart to see the iron bite into the stone, for once in stone it could never be otherwise.

'Shall I bring something to you here?'

'I will eat nothing until I have finished this work,' he answered. 'Leave me now.'

Throughout the rest of the day we held vigil in prayer. As the first twilight stars appeared in the sky, the Emrys emerged from the rotunda. Arthur and Gwenhwyvar joined us, and I saw that the death of his friends had visibly weakened the Pendragon. He appeared haggard and ill-rested, despite keeping to his tent.

Nor was I the only one to observe this, for I saw Bedwyr lead the Emrys aside to exchange a private word. And Bedwyr's eyes did not leave Arthur the whole time.

We ate a simple meal before the fire, and listened to the lark song in the darkling sky above us. Night stole over the camp and Arthur ordered the fire to be built up and called for a song. 'A song, Myrddin,' he said. 'Let us hear something of the valour of brave men – in memory of the friends we bury tomorrow.'

The Emrys consented and took up his harp to play an elegy for the departed. He sang The Valiant of Britain., which he had first sung following the victory at Mount Baedun, and to which he added the life-songs of Cai, Gwalcmai, Gwalchavad and Llenlleawg. If there was ever a more beautiful or heartfelt lament, I never heard it.

That night I slept outside the Pendragon's tent on a red calfskin – I wanted to begin my duties before anyone else awakened. Accordingly, I rose before dawn and hurried down to the stream to drink and wash myself. Passing along the sea-face of the hill, I happened to glimpse a ship gliding out of the mist on the water, sailing towards the shore.