Pendragon

God help us, we are mingled starlight and dust, and we know not who we are. We are lost unless we find ourselves in you, Great Light.

Out across the wind-tossed waves I saw Gaul and Armorica, and beyond them the Great Mother of Nations, Rome, once a beacon to all the world. The light had already flickered out in the east; hungry darkness now stretched its claws towards tiny Britain. But I saw Ynys Prydein, the Isle of the Mighty, like a sea-girt rock, solid amidst storm-tossed waves – a many-favoured land, shining like a Beltain blaze in a wilderness of night, alone among her sister nations yet holding the all-devouring darkness at bay. And this by the virtue of a lineage which united the fiery courage of the Celt with the cool dispassion of Roman discipline, distilled into the heart of a single man: Arthur.

Before Arthur there was Aurelius; and before Aurelius, Merlin; and before Merlin, Taliesin. Each day raised up its own champion, and in each and every age the Swift Sure Hand laboured to redeem his creation. Look you! We are not abandoned, nor do we strive with our own strength alone. Call on your Creator, O Man, cling to him, and he will carry you. Honour him, and he will establish guardian spirits round about you. Though you walk through flood and fire, you will not be harmed; your Redeemer will uphold you. Bright armies of angels go before us, surrounding us on every side if we could but see!

Oh, but there were haughty lords among us, proud men who bent the knee willingly to no one. Arthur, embodying all that mortal power could boast, was hard put to unite them – and him they knew. What they would not grant to an earthly king, they would scarce yield to an unseen spirit. No power on earth, or up above, can force the human heart to love where it will not love, or honour where it will not honour.

How long I drifted in this strange flight, I do not know. But when I at last came to myself again, it was twilight and a still, quiet camp lay around me. I awoke to find myself sitting on a calfskin by a fire, a bowl of stew untouched in my hands.

'Hail, Myrddin. We welcome your return,' Arthur said as I stirred. I looked across the fire to see him watching me, concerned by the dazed expression on my face. 'You were surely lost in your thoughts, bard.'

Gwenhwyvar lifted my dish slightly. 'You have not tasted a bite of your food.'

I looked into the bowl cupped in my hands. The dark liquid within became a squirming, seething mass of yellow maggots. I saw human bones, smouldering with inexplicable fire. And I heard again the echo of those mysterious words: We have no choice… burn it down.

I saw again the mound of corpses, bloated and stained a hideous blue-black, piled high and burning, greasy smoke assaulting a dry white sky. The gorge rose in my throat; I gagged and threw the bowl from me.

Gwenhwyvar put her hand on my arm. 'Myrddin!'

Sudden knowledge burst within me; the hateful word formed on my tongue. 'Pestilence,' I answered, choking on the word. 'Even now death is moving like a mist through the land.'

Arthur's jaw was set. 'I will defend Britain. I will do all that may be done to defeat the Vandali.'

He misunderstood my meaning, so I said: 'There is an enemy more powerful than the Boar and his piglets, more dangerous to us all than any invader who has breached these shores.'

Arthur regarded me sharply. 'You speak in riddles, bard. What is this death?'

'It is called the Yellow Death,' I replied.

'Plague!' Gwenhwyvar gasped.

'There has been no word of plague from any of the lords,' said Arthur. 'I will not allow such rumours to be spread amongst men preparing for battle.'

'I have no interest in rumours, O Great King. Even so, there is no doubt in my mind – nor should there be in yours – that the Yellow Death is even now loosed in Britain.'

Arthur accepted the rebuke in my words; staring into my eyes he asked, 'What is the cure?'

'I know no cure,' I told him. 'But it comes to me,' I added on a sudden inspiration, 'that if any remedy exists it may be that the priests at Ynys Avallach know of it. Their experience is wide and their knowledge deep,' I said, and remembered my mother telling me that the monastery was becoming a place of healing. But that had been years ago – would it still be so now?

'Then you must go at once without delay,' said Gwenhwyvar.

I rose from my place.

'Sit down, Myrddin,' Arthur said. 'You cannot go now. It is dark and there are fifty thousand barbarians between you and Ynys Avallach.' He paused, looking up at me in the firelight. 'Besides, I sit in council tonight and I need you here.'

'I cannot stay, Arthur,' I said. 'If anything can be done, I dare not wait. I must go. You know this.'

Still Arthur hesitated. 'One enemy at a time,' he said. 'We only squander our strength if we chase off in all directions. There is no cure for the plague, you said so yourself.'

'I have no wish to defy you,' I said stiffly. 'But you have the Cymbrogi to attend you, and I may be of use elsewhere. This danger has been shown to me, and I cannot ignore it. I will return as soon as possible, but I must go. Now. Tonight.'

'Bear,' Gwenhwyvar implored, 'he is right. Let him go. It may be the saving of many lives.' Arthur's gaze swung from me to her, and she seized on this momentary hesitation. 'Yes, go to them, Wise Emrys,' Gwenhwyvar urged, as if this had been Arthur's plan all along. 'Learn all you can and bring us some good word.'

'I make no promise,' I warned, 'but I will do what may be done. As for rumours, say nothing to anyone about this until I return.'

'So, it is settled,' declared Arthur, though I could tell the decision did not sit well with him. He stood abruptly and cried out for Llenlleawg. 'Myrddin must leave us for a time,' he said. 'Since the valley is swarming with Vandali, I would ask you to accompany him on his journey.'

Llenlleawg inclined his head in assent, his expression impassive in the firelight.

'I thank you,' I told them both. 'But I will travel more swiftly alone.'

FIVE

'At least let him see you to the boat,' Arthur insisted. 'Then I will know the barbarians did not stop you.'

Seeing he was determined to get his way in something, I relented. Bidding Arthur and Gwenhwyvar fare well, Llenlleawg and I went at once to the horse picket to retrieve our mounts. We rode from the camp as Arthur was sitting down to council.

I do not know which I pitied more: Arthur contending with his kings, or myself spending a sleepless night in the saddle. Likely, I had the better bargain.

Llenlleawg and I kept to the hilltops till we were well out of sight of the barbarian encampment, turning our horses into the vale as the sun broke red and raw in the east. Llenlleawg led the way, riding a little ahead, keeping close watch on the trail and the bluffs to either side, lest we encounter any straggling Vandali. But the trail remained empty and safe – until, rounding a blind turn just after midday, the Irish champion halted abruptly. 'Someone is coming this way. Three riders, maybe more.'

My eyes scanned the riverside trail before us, but I saw nothing. 'There.' The Irishman pointed to the rock-strewn riverbank ahead and to the right. The white sun high overhead shrank the shadows, making everything appear flat and colourless. I looked where Llenlleawg indicated and saw that what I had taken to be the grey shapes of boulders were in fact riders, slowly picking their way along the riverside.

'Did they see us?'

He gave his head a slight shake. 'I do not think so.'

We sat motionless for a time, waiting for the strangers to show themselves. Since the men were mounted, I did not think they could be Vandali, but we waited just the same. The strangers were also wary; they came on slowly, pausing often to scan the trail ahead, and the instant they sighted us, one of their number turned tail and raced back the way they had come, leaving the remaining two to continue on.