After the hardships of a season of almost continual fighting, it was good to let the tranquillity of the Glass Isle seep into our battle-weary souls. False summer faded and autumn progressed apace, bringing wind and rain to the Summerlands. The sea rose to flood the lowlands around the palace and Ynys Avallach became a true island once again. Though the days grew shorter and the world colder, our hearts remained light and we luxuriated in the warmth of one another's company.
Dafyd taught in the great hall by day. Most of Avallach's household gathered to hear the wise bishop expound the teachings of God's Holy Son, Jesu, Lord and Saviour of Men, and the hall was filled with love and light and learning. Aurelius, true to his word, spent his days in instruction and prayer at Dafyd's feet. I watched him grow in grace and faith, and I rejoiced in my heart that Britain should have such a High King.
Great is the king who loves the Most High God. Before the first snows of winter fell, Aurelius consecrated himself to God, and took the sign of the Saviour Son, the cross of Christ, as his emblem.
Pelleas grew restless, and one day I found him on the rampart, staring southward towards Llyonesse. 'Do you miss it?' I asked him.
'I did not think so until now,' he answered, without taking his eyes from the southern hills.
‘Then why not go back?'
He turned to me, pain and hope mingled in his face. But he did not answer.
'Not to stay. But I can spare you yet a while; go back to your people. How long has it been since you have seen them? Go to them.'
'I do not know if I would be welcome,' he replied, and turned back to stare into the grey distance.
'You will never find out standing here,' I told him. 'Go; there is time. You could rejoin us in Londinium at the Christ Mass.'
'If you think I might… '
'I would not have said it if I did not think so. Besides, it would be good to have some word of happenings in Llyonesse.'
Then I will go,' he said resolutely. He turned and, with the air of a man going to his doom, strode from the rampart and across the courtyard. In a little while, I saw him ride along the causeway; I watched until he disappeared from sight along the hill track.
For my part, I spent much time with my mother, talking, playing chess, playing my harp and singing for her. It was good to sit with her beside the hearth, the scent of oak and elm hazy in the air, wrapped in our woollen cloaks, listening to the icy rain spatter on the courtyard stones, and the small ticking of the fire before us.
Charis told me of her life as a bull dancer in Atlantis, the cataclysm that claimed her homeland, their coming to Ynys Prydein, and the difficulties of those first hopeless, tragic years – all the old stories. But. I heard them in a way I had never heard them before, and I understood. Hearing with understanding is, perhaps, the better part of wisdom. I learned much in listening to my mother speak about her life and came to see her in a new way.
One morning I asked about the sword – Avallach's sword, the one she had given me when I became king. Pelleas had told me that he found it on the battlefield when I fled, and that he had carried it back to Ynys Avallach, along with word of my disappearance, that first winter when the weather forced him to give up searching for me.
'Do you wish to have it back?' she asked. 'I have kept it for you. But when you did not ask for it on your return, I thought… But, of course, I will get it for you.'
'No, please; I only ask about it. I told you once that sword was not for me. I held it for a time, but I think it is meant for another hand.'
'It is yours. Give it to whomsoever you wish.'
I would have given much to remain in Avallach's house, but it was not to be. Too soon the tune came to leave. One day Aurelius sent out his messengers to his lords, as he had said he would, summoning them to his kingmaking. Then, a few days later, we started out.
In the cold heart of a mid-winter morning we mounted our horses and began the journey to Londinium. Aurelius was in high spirits and eager to seize his crown. He had embraced Dafyd's instruction, and now owned the Holy Jesu as his Lord. Upon his taking the crown, he meant to be baptized, as a sign to all his people where his allegiance lay.
Uther distrusted the church. I do not know why. He would speak of his misgivings to no one. He allowed the good in men like Dafyd and the good their lives and teaching produced, even acknowledged its source, but could not bring himself to embrace the truth they proclaimed, nor make it his own. But, as I have said, he loved his brother, and whatever Aurelius chose, Uther at least tolerated.
Nevertheless, Uther's sojourn at the Glass Isle, although restful, had something of captivity in it. So the day of our leavetaking was a day of liberation for Uther and he breathed deep of it. He was the first into the saddle, and he sat jerking the reins back and forth impatiently as the rest of us made our farewells.
'Mother, pray for me,' I whispered as I stepped close to embrace her.
'Like my love, my prayers have never ceased. Go in God's peace, my Hawk.'
So, wrapping ourselves in our cloaks and furs against the cold, we started down the snaking trail to the causeway, and across the frozen meres to the snow-dusted hills beyond. The cold brought colour to our cheeks, and keenness to our appetites. We travelled with all speed over the hard winter ground, making the most of the too-short daylight hours, stopping only when it became too dark to see the road ahead. At night, we huddled close to the fire of our night's host – chieftain or magistrate or village elder – and listened to the winter-starved wolves howl.
Nevertheless we rode through a land silent and at rest, and arrived in Londinium a day sooner than we had planned. This time Aurelius did not go to the governor's palace, but went straight to the church. Urbanus received us cordially and made us comfortable in his quarters – the lower floor of a plain but spacious house adjacent to the church.
While we warmed ourselves over the brazier and sipped hot mulled wine, he told us how the church might be prepared for the coronation. He declared enthusiasm for the coronation to take place in his church, but confessed, 'I still do not understand why you wish to be made king here.'
'I am a Christian,' Aurelius explained. 'Where would you have me go? Governor Melatus is not my superior that I should receive my crown from his hand. But Jesu is my Lord, therefore I will take up my kingship in his holy presence. And I will receive my crown from the hand of his true servant Bishop Dafyd.'
It was as I had always intended it to be, of course, but hearing the confirmation from Aurelius' own lips thrilled me. Only such a king would be fit for the Kingdom of Summer; and Aurelius had the grace and the strength; he had the faith. He could rule this worlds-realm island, and it would flourish like a meadow in midsummer.
Though the land lay barren in the cold grip of winter, I saw summer's cloak falling over her like the mantle of a bride. And I rejoiced to see it.
Great Light, let my vision prove false! Let Aurelius live to do his work.
The next day the first of Aurelius' kings arrived in Londinium: Coledac and Morcant, neither of whom had far to travel, came into the city with their lords and advisers, a small band of warriors each, and, to my surprise, their wives and children. Dunaut and Tewdrig arrived the next day, and Custennin and Ceredigawn the day following. And there was a scramble to find places for them all – for each had brought a large retinue to attend the ceremony.
Others arrived: Morganwg of Dumnonia, with the princes Cato and Maglos; Eldof of Eboracum; Ogryvan of Dollgellau and his chieftains and druids; Rhain, prince of Gwynedd, Cere-digawn's cousin; Antorius and his brother king, Regulus, of Canti in Lloegres; Owen Vinddu of Rheged; Hoel of Armor-ica, braving the winter seas, with his sons, Ban and Bors.