'Good reason right enough,' snorted the man. 'I call him fool who lets another steal his lands and lifts not a hand to stop the thief! I call him coward who stands by and sees his son slaughtered and does not demand the blood price.'
'This is a serious matter. Land stolen, a prince killed: who has done these things?'
The man grimaced in disgust for my ignorance. 'Who else?' he sneered. 'Morcant of Belgarum, of course! Two summers ago it began, and since then it's every holding must defend itself, for we can expect no protection from Madoc.'
I shook my head sadly. 'It grieves me to hear this.'
'Ha!' barked the man scornfully. 'Let your grief defend you! I mean to hold what I have.' His lips curled in an ugly sneer. 'You've had your water, now get you gone from here. We have no use for priests.'
'I could give you a blessing -'
The man hefted the club in reply.
'So be it.' I shrugged and took the reins from Pelleas' hand. We mounted and rode back the way we had come. Once out of sight of the place, we stopped to consider what we had learned.
'So Morcant makes war on his brother kings,' I mused. 'For what purpose? A little land, a little plunder? It makes no sense.'
'Will you go to Madoc?'
'No, I can do nothing there. Morcant has set strife among his neighbours, and I would know why. As I am a priest today, we will do the priestly thing, and seek guidance from a higher power.'
The Belgae are an ancient tribe whose seat is Caer Uintan. Making peace with Rome allowed the Belgae to establish themselves in the region; old Uintan Caestir prospered and grew large serving the Legions. But the Legions were long gone now, and the city shrank in upon itself- like an overripe apple withering where it had fallen.
Like Londinium to the southeast, Caer Uintan maintained a wall of stone around its perimeter. But Caer Uintan's vallum was never as high as Londinium's because it was never as needed; it served as a reminder of the Belgae strength, rather than as a real defence.
So Pelleas and I were both amazed coming upon the city at dusk: the wall of Caer Uintan had grown tall indeed. And a deep ditch had been dug below the wall to make it higher still. The city of Caer Uintan was now a fortress.
The gates were already closed and barred for the night, although the sky was still light. We halted on the narrow causeway before the gates and called to the gatesmen. We were made to wait, and then answered rudely.
The surly gatesmen were loath to admit us, but as I claimed business with the church – the church Aurelius had built for the city – they grudgingly, and with much cursing, unbound the gate and let us in, lest they fall foul of Bishop Uflwys, whose sharp wit, and sharper tongue, was renowned in the region.
'Shall we go to the church at once?' Pelleas asked as soon as we passed through the gate. The streets of the city were dark with shadows and smoke from the hearth fires beginning to glimmer behind the thick glass of narrow windows. Caer Uintan was a wealthy city still; those of its people who could maintain life in the old Roman style lived well.
'Yes, I would speak with the bishop,' I replied. 'Uflwys may have a word for us.'
Bishop Uflwys was a tall, stern man of deep thoughts and hard-won convictions. It was said that those who came to Uflwys seeking God's forgiveness for their sins and crimes left his presence much chastened, but much forgiven also. As bishop he feared neither kings on earth nor demons in hell, and he treated all men the same – that is to say: bluntly.
He had come to Caer Uintan to help build the church and stayed to guide it with a strong hand. The church, like its leader, stood aloof from the world, unadorned, bespeaking a firm and steadfast faith. I was interested in what he would say of Morcant.
The bishop received us cordially; he still held some small respect for me, it seemed, for he had loved Aurelius. Indeed, Uflwys appeared genuinely glad to see us. 'Merlinus! Dear brother, I hardly know you!' He rose as we were announced and came to us holding out his arms. I met him and gripped his arms in the old Celtic greeting. 'Come, come, sit with me. Are you hungry? We will eat. I have often wondered where you had gone. God bless the sight of you! Why are you dressed like a beggar?'
'Glad I am to see you, Uflwys. In truth, I did not think to come here. But now that I see you, I believe that my steps have been directed here from the first.'
'Where the good Lord leads, his servants must follow, eh? And from the look of you, I would say you were led a merry chase. What are you about, Merlinus?' Uflwys indicated my clothing. 'Not taken holy vows at last?'
Before I could explain, Uflwys held up his hands. 'No, say nothing yet. We will eat first. You are both tired from your journey. Break a crust with me, yes? There will be time enough for talk later.'
Bishop Uflwys' table was as spare as the bishop himself: simple fare – bread, beer, meat, cheese – but good. Pelleas sat with us at the board and we were served by two young monks from the nearby monastery. Our table talk touched on the ordinary observations of travelling: the weather, planting, commerce, news gathered along the way. When we had finished, the bishop rose from his chair. 'We will take some mead in my chamber,' he told the monks. 'Bring a jar and cups.'
We settled in Uflwys' bare chamber – a white-washed cell with one narrow unglazed window and tramped-earth floor, and a short ledge on which rested the pallet of clean straw that was his bed. But he was accustomed to receiving guests in his cell, and in deference to them the room was furnished with four big, handsome chairs and boasted a small hearth.
No sooner were we seated than the monks appeared; one of them carrying a wooden tray with jar and cups on it, the other bearing a small three-legged table on which to put the tray. These were placed beside Bishop Uflwys' chair and, after pouring the mead and lighting the fire, the monks departed without a word.
Uflwys handed around the cups, saying, 'God's health to you!' We sipped the sweet, heather-scented liquid for a moment in silence. 'Well now, my friends. Will you not tell me why I have the pleasure of your company tonight?'
I laid aside my cup and leaned forward. 'We have heard that Morcant raises war against his neighbour Madoc. I would hear what you can tell me about how the matter stands.'
The holy man's face grew grave. 'Morcant at war? You must believe me when I say that, until you spoke the hateful word, I heard nothing of it.' He looked from me to Pelleas and back again. 'Nothing.'
'Then I will tell you what little I know,' I replied. I related what Pelleas and I had learned, and explained how we had come by our information.
Uflwys stood and paced fretfully before the fire. 'Yes,' he said when I had finished, 'I am certain what you say is true, for it explains much. Morcant has no doubt taken pains to keep this from me, but no longer.' He turned suddenly towards the door. 'Come, we will confront the king with this foul sin. I will not sleep until I have laid the crime at his feet. He must not think the church will remain indifferent to this outrage.'
SIX
An important civitas under the Romans, Venta Bulgarum had been the Belgae lords' stronghold before the Legions came; Morcant never let anyone forget that his line boasted long and lucrative cooperation with Caesar, and that the lords of the Belgae were proud of their past. Though the forum and basilica had been claimed for private use, King Morcant maintained them worthily. Indeed, for all his talk of Britain, he still styled himself a provincial governor.
The doors were shut and bolted for the night, but Morcant received us. Bishop Uflwys was too imposing a figure in Caer Uintan to treat lightly, or disgracefully. I doubt that I would have been likewise welcomed. Nevertheless, we were conducted to a chamber hung with woven rugs on the walls, and lit with rushlights.
'It is late for a priest, is it not?' Morcant asked, smiling as if receiving the bishop in the dead of night was a most natural thing to him. 'I understood a monk rose and slept with the sun.'