This singular maid wore a cloak the colour of fine emeralds, edged in purple, and a long mantle of yellow bright as sunlight. Her raven hair was loose and long, and plaited with summer wild flowers of white and gold; her fair cheeks blushed the colour of foxglove on the moor; her noble brow was high and smooth and white, lifting with noble pride, and her eyes held a playful gleam. She wore no shoes but nevertheless walked purposefully, yet with great elegance and dignity, to the altar.
Everyone in the church strained eyes to see this strange maid; they murmured aloud to one another, 'Who is she? Who can she be? Why does she carry that spear? What does she want?'
'But Arthur knew who she was, and though her appearance surprised and amazed him, he knew also why she had come.
'What is it?' demanded Myrddin of Bedwyr in a harsh whisper. 'What is happening? Tell me, man!'
'It is Gwenhwyvar,' Bedwyr replied uncertainly. 'She has come to honour Arthur, I think.'
'Honour him!' sneered Myrddin. 'She has come to claim him!'
Gwenhwyvar halted before Arthur and bent low, laying the spear cross-wise at his feet. She straightened and placed the white dove in Arthur's hands. Then she reached out a bold hand and took from the High King the Sword of Britain, which she grasped by the blade, wrapping her long fingers around the bright steel. And, raising Caliburnus to her lips, she kissed the crosspiece of the hilt and then' cradled the naked blade to her breast.
It was so swiftly done. No one suspected what had taken place – except Myrddin, who knew well what the swords and doves signified; and Arthur, who knew in his heart that he had found the one woman in all the world his full equal in courage, and above all others worthy of his love.
In this way was Arthur made High King of all Britain. And in this way was Arthur also wed.
TWO
Gwenhwyvar brought with her a wedding gift: a tabled rotunda – a structure of cunning craft and of a design unknown in Britain. That is, she brought the builder's drawings for this edifice: five vellum scrolls of ancient age wrapped tightly in fine linen. These drawings had been treasured by the kings of Ierne through many generations. As far as is known, there is only one other rotunda like it in all the world, and that is in the City of Constantine in the east.
A strange gift, certainly, for a wedding. But appropriate for a Warrior Queen like Gwenhwyvar. She had conceived the idea while sojourning with the Fair Folk at Ynys Avallach where she came to know Charis, Myrddin's mother and daughter of Avallach the Fisher King.
Myrddin was given the task of overseeing the construction of the tabled rotunda; the Great Emrys was the only man in this worlds-realm with knowledge and subtlety enough to raise the building. This work became the cornerstone of Arthur's reign, and it was meet so to do.
Building also began at Caer Melyn, Arthur's southern capital, and at Caer Lial which he had taken for his northern seat. The High King decided that he would maintain two principal courts, so that Britain should remain united. Caer Lial, old Caer Ligualid, City of the Legions in the north, was a wise choice. It was on the Wall, yet also near a sheltered bay which could serve the fleet. Seven roads met there, allowing rapid travel to all parts of the Island of the Mighty.
Caer Lial, long abandoned, lay in grey ruins: streets silent, tumbled houses roofless, garrison yards weed-grown, doorways deserted, forum vast and empty. The people of the area had from time to time pulled down parts of its walls for building-stone, but mostly the once-proud city was left to its own slow decay.
It was to Caer Lial that I came with my father, Caw, lord of Trath Gwryd, who had his realm from the High King. He had brought me to serve with the Cymbrogi as he was beholden to do.
Trained as a bard since I could speak – though also learned in Latin – I felt my heart beat high with the thought that I might sit at the feet of the Exalted Emrys, Chief Bard of Britain. The day I arrived in the Pendragon's city is one I shall never forget.
My father and I rode down from Trath Gwryd with two of my older brothers who were also to join the Cymbrogi. Caw had nine sons and all but one served the Pendragon faithfully; at thirteen, I was youngest of all.
Caer Melyn was a stronghold of timber, but Caer Lial was a city of stone. A marvel of the stone-mason's craft, jewel of the north. Everywhere I looked, the brightness of Arthur shone in his fair city. Even the streets gleamed!
Once past the gates, we dismounted out of respect and led our horses through the city to the High King's palace – the former regional residence of an Imperial Legate, now restored. We were received by Cai, King Arthur's seneschal, who informed us that the Pendragon was away but expected to return at any time.
'I welcome you in the name of the Pendragon,' he said, 'and I accept the tribute of your sons, Lord Caw.' He gripped the arms of my older brothers, but ignored me altogether. 'We are ever grateful for good fighting men among the Cymbrogi.'
Caius ap Ectorius of mighty Caer Edyn was a champion many times over. Hair red as flame, and quick green eyes, he was a huge man, with a generous, open countenance which spoke of a guileless heart and an easy mind. Still, I reckoned, he would be a formidable foe in battle. A man to make his enemies curse the day of their birth. I felt weak and unworthy, just standing next to him. And this though I had been raised in a lord's house with warriors for brothers!
Cai summoned one of his stewards and, after my father's farewells, my brothers were led away to the warriors' precinct, opposite the enormous training field behind the palace. My father and Cai talked for a time, and eventually their talk turned to me.
'What of the Great Emrys?' my father asked. 'Aneirin here is also pledged to Arthur's service, but as he is a mabinog and will soon become a bard we thought the Chief Bard might sooner find a place for him.'
Cai clapped a hand to my shoulder, rattling my frame, and grinned. 'A filidh for Myrddin, eh? Splendid! I have been telling him he needs assistance. There is simply too much to do and Rhys unfortunately has not mastered the art of being in three places at once. It will be good to have you with us.'
I thanked him and plucked up what courage I possessed at the age of thirteen. 'If you tell me where he is, I will go to him and recommend myself with your blessing.'
Cai laughed at my presumption. 'Oh, you will do, boy. But the Emrys is not here. He is at work on the rotunda. He resumed work this spring as soon as the snow cleared the valleys, and vows that he will nowise return until it is finished.'
'If you will tell me where he is to be found, I will go to him and give myself to his service.'
Cai's grin became secretive. 'Oh aye, that is the problem, is it not – where is the Table Round?'
The whereabouts of Arthur's shrine was being kept secret. A holy place, it was to remain hidden from the world of men. Since part of its function was as burial vault for great warriors, the High King did not want its hallowed ground desecrated by curious wayfarers, or jealous pagans. He did not wish it to become a place of pilgrimage, for although a sacred site, it was to be first and foremost a sanctuary for the gallant who had given their lives for Britain, and so earned their blessed rest. Inasmuch as he also planned to be buried there at the appointed time, the Pendragon did not want its peace disturbed.
'It would not do to have just anyone about the place,' Cai continued, regarding me suspiciously. 'But if you are to be a help to Myrddin – '
'Lord Cai,' I interrupted, 'would it not be better to address the Exalted Emrys by his rightful title?' My impertinence was boundless!