Pendragon

'Peace, Arthur! What of the Gathering?' I asked. Had we missed that, too?

Arthur's fleeting frown gave the answer. 'There was no Gathering this year,' he replied. 'Because of some trouble somewhere, Custennin said the Gathering could not take place.'

'Oh,' I said, nodding. 'That is too bad.'

'But,' continued Arthur, brightening immediately, 'Ectorius says that next year we will have an even bigger Gathering – twice as big! That makes it almost worth the wait.' He turned and darted off. 'Come on, I will show you how well I throw a spear! I have been practising all summer!'

He was gone in an instant.

'Well?' I turned to Pelleas. 'It appears that we are to witness a throwing trial. Ectorius' good ale must wait a little, I think. This is more important. Send the lord our regrets; tell him a matter of some urgency has arisen, and that we will join him as soon as may be.'

Pelleas hastened to do as I bade him, and returned to find Arthur and me on the field behind the boys' house. There we watched Arthur display his considerable ability as time after time he struck the mark – a feat made more remarkable by the fact that he threw the longer, warrior-sized shaft, and not the shorter practice length used by the boys.

The dying day stretched our shadows long on the field and we stood together watching Arthur tirelessly throwing and retrieving his spear, his face ruddy with the flush of pride in his new-mastered skill. We cheered his successes and praised his prowess while the flame-struck sun sank lower behind us.

A last 'Well done' and I gathered the boy beneath my arm. We started back to the hall where the feast was being prepared. 'You have a champion's touch.'

'Do you think so? I can do better – I know I can.'

'I believe you.' I stopped and placed both hands on Arthur's shoulders. 'I will make a king of you, Arthur.'

The boy shrugged off the promise. 'So you say. I just want to fight Saecsens!'

'Oh, you will fight the Saecsen, son,' I assured him. 'You will be a warrior-the greatest warrior the world has seen! And much else besides.'

Arthur was happy with this prophecy. But then, he would have been just as pleased with a new spear or a sword of his own. He hurried off to return his spear to the armoury, and came back on the run a few moments later.

I waited for him, and watched as he ran. 'Look at him, Pelleas. He knows nothing of the powers arrayed against us. And even if he knew, I think it would matter as little to him as the dust beneath his feet.'

It is a strange and subtle thing, but I believe now that I had to fail – to understand that all my pains at peacemaking amounted to nothing – before I could recognize the reality standing bold as life before me. In order to welcome redemption, one must first embrace the utter hopelessness of failure. For how can a man look for rescue unless he knows he is truly lost? It was there before – it was there all along! – but I could not see it. I saw it now for what it was, and, oh, for all it would become. Yes! I remember the moment well. Truly, that golden afternoon with Arthur so happy beside me remains one of the most glorious of my memory. For in that brief time I beheld the shape of our salvation. Great Light, to think I might have missed it!

Sadly, its glory proved short-lived. Bad news awaited us. Ector glanced up, frowning, as we entered his chamber. He was sitting in his favourite place-a chair made from the interlaced antlers of red deer and boar tusks. 'Here you are!' he snapped, and thrust a parchment roll into our faces as we came to stand before him. 'Read it out!' He spoke as if whatever was written there was all my doing.

I took the roll and opened it, scanning the cramped script slowly before passing the parchment to Pelleas. He read quickly and handed it back to Ector.

'That,' Ectorius growled, 'was waiting for me when I returned – from Lot. Saecsen warbands have been seen in the north. There are women and children with them.' Each word carried a weight of dread. 'They are settling. The Picti have welcomed them; Lot believes they have formed an alliance, and so it appears.'

'Where is the man who brought the letter?' I asked.

'Gone,' answered Ectorius. 'He and the men with him rested but a day before returning. We missed them by that much.' He held up his thumb and forefinger to show how narrowly.

'Saecsens settling in the north,' I muttered darkly. 'So, it begins again. The turmoil we have feared is upon us.'

Ectorius, hoping for some solace from me, now sought to soften the blow himself. 'Well, things might be worse. A few settlers. That is all. Surely, they can do no – ' he began halfheartedly.

But I cut him off. 'It is not just a few settlers, as you well know!'

Ectorius glowered; his jaw bulged dangerously but he held his tongue.

'Think, man! As in the north, so in the south: the first of the mighty waves that henceforth shall wash over this island have broken on our shores, and with them the first of the great battlelords who will lay claim to Britain.'

'You are mad to speak so!' Ectorius leaped from his chair. 'You do not know this.'

'It is true, Ector. The Saecsen Shore has fallen. The barbarians even now establish strongholds in which to gather their warbands, and from these they will spread like plague to ravage the land.

'And then,' I concluded grimly, 'when they have stolen enough to sustain them, they will seek to put all Britain beneath their heathen rule.'

Ectorius, his worst fears confirmed, scowled at the parchment for a moment and then threw it to the floor.

'You do not leave a man much for courage,' he said gruffly. 'Yet, it is no less than my own heart has been telling me. Though I had hoped Aurelius and Uther had taken the fight out of them.'

'They did, but only a fool would think it could last forever. As it is, we have had some measure of peace these last years. Still, if we are very fortunate, they may content themselves with establishing their settlements for a time before the raiding commences.'

'Let them begin when they will,' Lord Ectorius declared. 'By the God who made me, Emrys, I mean to hold my own. I will not be driven from my land.'

'Bravely said,' I replied. 'But strength alone will not prevail this time.'

'How then? What else can we do?'

Tray, good Ector,' I intoned softly. 'Pray God is for us. Pray for the strength of right and the valour of justice. For I tell you plainly: without these we will not hold Britain even a day longer than is granted.'

Ectorius, grim-faced, shook his head slowly as the truth of these words found their mark within him. 'This is a bitter draught, Emrys. I do say it, and it cheers me not at all.'

'Let this be your hope then, my friend. There is one under your care even now who carries within him all that will be required in the day of travail. One whose life was kindled in this worlds-realm for no other purpose.'

Ectorius stared. 'He is but a boy.'

'This very day I have seen the future, Ector,' I assured him. 'And it shone in the glad welcome on that boy's face.'

EIGHT

The next days were given to preparation for the autumn hunt. Horses were reshod, spears sharpened, dogs groomed. Everyone in the stronghold was busy. From early morning to far into the night Caer Edyn resounded with shouts, songs, and laughter. It was a celebration of sorts – though a most serious celebration with a starkly earnest purpose: we hunted for the smokehouse and the winter table. We needed the meat to see us through the cold days and nights ahead.

Every detail was seen to with most exacting care, for a spoiled hunt made a lean winter. Above the Wall, a lean winter is a killing winter.

The morning of the hunt, Arthur rose before daylight and made certain that Pelleas and I were awake, too. We washed and dressed, and hurried to the hall, where some of Ectorius' guests and men were already gathered, waiting for the food to be served. This morning we would break fast on hot pork stew, black barley bread, and beer, for we would be in the saddle all day.