Queen Gwenhwyvar folded her arms upon her breast and gazed imperiously at the men around her. 'It seems to me you condemn him not for his failure, but for his weakness. What is more, it is a weakness all men share.
'Tell me now,' she demanded, exquisite in her wrath, 'who among you has never experienced a moment's weakness at the sight of a beautiful woman?' When no one answered, she searched the circle of faces and called us by name: 'Gwalchavad? Bors? Peredur? If Morgaws had fastened on you, could you have resisted? Rhys? Myrddin? How long before you would have given in? Look into your hearts, all of you, and tell me that you would not have weakened if you were in Llenlleawg's place. If you had been the prey the huntress stalked, would you have escaped unscathed?'
I cannot speak for the others, but I was only too painfully aware how very close I had come to giving in to Morgaws' seduction. I knew full well how weak I was, and I had not experienced even the smallest part of what she had directed at Llenlleawg.
'He succumbed, and others did not,' Arthur maintained. 'Do you think I take pleasure in this judgment? Lady, I do not. But justice must be done.'
'Is there no place for mercy in your justice, Great King?' Gwenhwyvar stepped close and put her hands over the king's hands as they rested on the sword. 'Please, Arthur,' she said softly, pleading for her kinsman's life, 'we have all been bewitched in one way or another. Let us not presume to judge Llenlleawg more harshly than we judge ourselves.'
The Pendragon looked to his Wise Counsellor for advice, and we all turned to see what Myrddin would say. The Emrys joined Gwenhwyvar, taking his place between Arthur and Llenlleawg. 'God knows death is justified nine times over for his crimes,' he said. 'Punishment is your right, and justice demands it. But there is much we do not yet know of Morgian's insidious designs. Therefore, I beg you to withhold judgment until we have penetrated the dark heart of this lamentable affair.'
The Pendragon regarded his wife and his counsellor for a long time, contemplating what he should do. We all waited on his decision. At last, he said, 'Very well, let it be as you say. I will make no judgment until our understanding is complete.' He made a motion with his hand. 'Now step aside.'
Gwenhwyvar and Myrddin moved aside and took their places with the rest of us looking on. The king gazed upon his friend sadly and said, 'Hear me, Llenlleawg: from this day you are no longer my champion, and your name will never again be spoken in my presence. Further, you will go with us to Caer Melyn, where you will be put on a ship and exiled to lerna, where your crime will be known to your people. There you will stay until I make my final judgment.' Having delivered his decree, Arthur considered the abject warrior. 'Do you understand?'
A warrior myself, I understood only too well. It occurred to me that Llenlleawg might rather have parted with his head than with his lord and swordbrothers. In Ireland he would be an outcast among his own people – a disgrace to them and to himself. Llenlleawg's honour, whatever might be left of it, could not long endure… and then what would become of him?
The Irish champion nodded slowly. 'How long must I wait your decision?' he asked, and oh, the defeat in his voice cut me to the heart.
But Arthur was not moved. 'God alone knows,' he replied, then added, 'Seek Him – perhaps He will show you the way to your salvation.'
So saying, the king turned on his heel, leaving his former champion standing lonely and forlorn – bereft of dignity and friendship, yes, but not, I think, without hope of redemption, however remote.
We followed the king from the chapel yard. Gwenhwyvar waited until Arthur had reached the perimeter of the clearing, then offered a hasty word of farewell to her kinsman. She pressed his hand and, after a last sorrowful look, hurried after the king. Peredur, at Arthur's nod, resumed the duty of guarding the prisoner and led him away.
With few weapons and no provisions to carry, we could travel lightly, if hungrily, until we reached the nearest habitation where we could get food; and, as we did not know when we might get good water again, we all took a long drink from the holy well before setting off. I was the last to drink, and after a final lingering look at the Grail Chapel, I turned away and hurried to join my friends.
FORTY-ONE
Thus we began our journey, walking in silent file behind Myrddin along the rain-wet trail. We had not travelled far, however, when the sun burst through the clouds and sent dazzling bright spears of light striking through the trees.
It had been so long since I had seen the sun, I stopped in my tracks and turned my face to the glorious light as if to drink it deep into my soul. A winter sun, but no less welcome for that, I felt its warmth bathe my features and thanked the Lord who made me that I yet roamed the world of the living.
We continued on and it was not long before I noticed a very strange thing. All around me, the woodland was steaming as the sunlight penetrated the wet trees and ground. Now, that in itself is not remarkable, but as the misty vapours rose and curled in the sun-struck air, the forest itself seemed to be dissipating, fading away with the mist – as if the very trees themselves were nothing more than a night fog which vanishes when touched by the light of day. The forest was thinning and receding before my eyes.
We all stopped and gaped at this wondrous sight. And when we turned once more to the path, the woodland had grown thin and the way stretched wide before us. We moved on, and quickly paired with one another – Arthur and Gwenhwyvar walked together, heads bent near in close discussion; Bors began questioning Rhys about what had happened after the Cymbrogi became separated in the forest. Peredur dutifully followed a half step behind his prisoner, who lumbered forward with head and shoulders bent. I found myself walking beside Gereint, amiable enough in his silence, but I had questions that needed answers he could not supply.
I saw that Myrddin walked alone at the head of the party, and decided to join him. 'Here, now,' I told Gereint, 'let us hear what Myrddin has to say about all that has taken place.' Adjusting our pace, we soon fell into step beside the Wise Emrys.
'How long must Llenlleawg remain in exile?' I said, asking the first question that came to mind.
'Until the penance for his crimes has been fulfilled,' the Wise Emrys declared, then added in a gentler tone: 'God alone knows how long that may be, but I believe that either he will die there, or Arthur will one day welcome his champion back into his service.'
'To think it could happen to the likes of Llenlleawg,' I mused. 'I wonder why Morgaws chose him to aid her treachery.'
Myrddin gave me a sideways glance. 'She deceived us all! Gwenhwyvar spoke the truth: Morgaws bewitched and beguiled every last one of us.'
'We were all deceived, of course, but only Llenlleawg sided with her and carried out her purposes.'
'Why wonder at that? Great Light! Only by God's good grace do any of us stand or fall. I think it praiseworthy so many resisted.' He was silent for a moment, meditating on this; when he spoke again, he said, 'But you see how it is. Even though she could deceive us, she could not overwhelm us; her powers were not of that kind. She could seduce but she could not subdue, and that is the way of it.'
Again I confessed I did not understand, so Myrddin explained. 'The Enemy's powers are far less than we imagine. The Evil One cannot overwhelm us by force. Indeed, he can use against us only the weapons we give him.'