Pendragon

That is what I thought, and that is what I believed. If you, O Great of Wisdom, secure in your toplofty perch, think otherwise, then look around: how much of what you see now would exist if not for Arthur? Meditate on that!

So the next day we rode to the shipyards at Muir Guidan to board ships and sail south along the coast and up the turgid Thamesis to Londinium. Like his father before him, Arthur found little to love in the tangled sprawl of dwellings and footpaths of this much-vaunted civitas. On his first visit – when coming for the Sword of Britain-he told me it appeared nothing more than a midden heap floating on an uneasy morass of bogland. The stink filling my nostrils gave me to know that the place had not improved. Oh, there were a few fine buildings of stone still standing: a basilica, the governor's palace, a wall or two, and such. Truth be told, however, the church alone was worthy of its place.

It was to Urbanus' church that we proceeded. The messengers, who had raced ahead to inform the settlements along the way, were waiting for us. Also waiting was Aelle, War Leader of the South Saecsens, those of the Saecsen Shore who had kept faith with Arthur. With the Bretwalda were his entire retinue of house carles, and all their wives and children. I believe they would have brought their cattle, too, they were that eager to honour the new British king and renew their vows of fealty.

In this, these rude barbarians showed themselves more noble than many who esteemed themselves the highest of our wayward island brood. For his part, Arthur greeted the Saecsen War Leader like one of his own Cymbrogi, and gave Aelle and the battlechiefs with him such gifts as they prized: horses, dogs, and objects of yellow gold.

We then formed ranks and passed through the gates and into the tight-crowded streets of die decrepit fortress. Our arrival occasioned considerable interest. Once the people of Caer Londinium glimpsed the young king with his subject lords before him they understood that someone of consequence had appeared in their midst. But who?

Who was this brash young man? Look at him; look at the way he is dressed. Look at his retinue. Certainly, these are not civilized men. Is he a Pict? A Saecsen, perhaps? More likely, he is some fool of a northern nobleman parading his rustic vanity in the capital.

Thronging the way, the jaded folk of Londinium shouted from the rooftops. 'Who do you think you are, stranger?' they called. 'Are you Emperor Maximus? Do you think this is Rome?'

Some laughed at him; others jeered aloud, calling him arrogant and a fool, flinging abuse in half a dozen languages.

'They are the fools,' Cador grumbled. 'Do not listen to them.'

'I see Londinium has learned no love for me,' Arthur replied unhappily.

'Nor I for them,' Bedwyr answered. 'Take the crown, Bear, and let us be gone from this miserable dung heap.'

'How long do they think their precious walls would stand if not for you, Artos?' grumbled Cai. 'Let the barbarians have it and be done.'

Thus we made our sullen way through the noise and stench of the city. The messengers had done their work and had informed the southern lords and Archbishop Urbanus of Arthur's imminent arrival and kingmaking. Both Paulus, who styled himself governor of Londinium, and his legate were waiting on the steps together as we turned into the long street leading to the governor's palace.

I had met this governor before: a bandy-legged sybarite with a wide, self-satisfied smile and small pig eyes, behind which twitched a rancourous and devious mind. Paulus by name, he was a cunning and oily adversary, and he did not take Arthur's arrival kindly. There was no welcome cup, nor did the fat governor invite us into his house to refresh ourselves from our journey.

'Greetings, Artorius.' He chortled – the unpleasant sound brought his round, fleshy face before my mind's eye. 'On behalf of the citizens of this great civitas, I welcome you. It is an especial honour for me to meet the famed Dux Britanniarum at last.'

'Arthur is the High King and Pendragon,' the legate corrected gently. 'And I, too, welcome you, Artorius. And welcome, Merlinus. I trust your voyage was agreeable?'

'Artorius Rex, is it?' mused Paulus in feigned surprise. 'Oh, then I am honoured indeed. I hope you will allow me to introduce you to some of Londinium's fair daughters. We have many women who would like to meet the illustrious northerner.'

Turning to me, Paulus said, 'Merlinus? Certainly not the Merlinus Ambrosius, of whom so much is storied and so little known?' Clearly, he did not remember me.

'The same,' I answered. Bedwyr, Cai, and Cador stood nearby, looking on – each of them worth any hundred of Londinium's self-flattering citizens. But Governor Paulus did not deign to notice them.

'I am delighted,' Paulus said. 'Now then, when is this ceremony of yours to take place?'

'On the coming Sabbath,' the legate said quickly. 'Merlinus, since receiving word I have been extraordinarily busy on your behalf. I have spoken to the churchmen, who assure me that everything will be ready according to your instruction.'

'Splendid,' enthused Paulus. 'It does not appear you will require the aid of the governor.' He was so anxious to distance himself from the proceedings that I thought he might do himself an injury.

'No,' Arthur replied, his voice hard. 'It seems I do not require the assistance of the governor. Though I thank you for the thought.'

'Yes, well…' Paulus hesitated, trying to make up his mind about the unusual young man before him. 'If you find you should welcome my aid, I will of course be only too pleased to assist you in every way.'

'Again,' Arthur said, 'I thank you, but I cannot think of any possible help you might be to me. Still, I will bear it in mind.'

Oh, Arthur had the measure of Governor Paulus and was not deceived. The legate, embarrassed by Paulus' obvious slight, begged the governor's leave to withdraw, claiming the pressure of duties. 'If you wish, I will conduct our visitors to the church,' he offered, 'and place them in the archbishop's care.'

'I think we can find our own way to the church,' I volunteered. Blind as I was, I would still rather flounder through the streets alone than be seen in the company of Paulus' toad.

'Of course, of course, by all means, go if you must,' said Governor Paulus. 'But return this evening, Artorius – you and one or two of your men. We will sup together. I have some excellent wine from the provinces of southern Gaul. You must come and drink with me.'

At Arthur's hazy promise to give the invitation careful consideration, we departed, continuing on our way to the church.

'That man is a poisonous lizard, Artos,' Bedwyr muttered sourly. 'And I would not drink a single drop of his Gaulish wine if I were you – not even if I were dying of thirst.'

'Patience,' Arthur advised. 'We satisfy the law in coming here. Nothing more.'

'Law?' Cai demanded. 'What law is that?'

'Great Caesar's law,' Arthur informed them. 'Established when he first set foot in Ynys Prydein.'

'Yes?' inquired Bedwyr. 'What is it?'

'Every ruler must conquer Londinium if he is to hold Britain,' the king explained. I smiled to hear my thoughts echoed in Arthur's words.

'I know of no such law,' Cador muttered. 'What is so exalted about this crumbling cow byre?'

Gwalchavad, who had been following this exchange closely, added, 'Londinium stinks of slops and urine. And from what I have seen, the people here are more kin to barbarians than to Britons.'

'Peace, brothers! We will not stay here one moment longer than necessary,' Arthur assured them. 'When I have achieved what I came here to do, we are away to Caer Melyn.' He stopped, and smiled to himself. 'Did you see how relieved Paulus was when we declined his invitation? Perhaps we should sup with him anyway. That would make the old toad squirm.'

'I say we should do it,' Cador urged. 'And let us bring all the Cymbrogi with us and let them drain his precious wine to the dregs.'