Pendragon

Arthur considered this. He hovered on the threshold of yielding. 'What say you, Myrddin?'

'Your wise counsellors have given you good advice,' I replied. 'Why ask me?'

'But I am asking you,' Arthur growled.

'Very well,' I said. But before I could deliver my answer, the hunting horn sounded outside – a short blast, followed by two more.

'Someone has come,' Cai said, jumping to his feet. He paused. 'Do you want me to bring them to you, Bear?'

'See who it is first,' Arthur said sourly.

Rhys' signal indicated a newcomer to the camp. Cai left and we prepared to receive our guests.

In a moment, Cai's voice called: 'Arthur, you should come out. You will want to see these visitors.'

Arthur sighed, pushed back his chair – Uther's great camp chair – and rose slowly. 'What now?' Throwing aside the tent flap, he stepped out and I followed. Cai was standing a short distance from the tent, gazing down the hill towards the stream.

Mounting the slight rise towards us was a crowd of clerics: three bishops – no less – with thirty or more monks. The bishops wore rich priestly garb: long dark robes and glittering gold ornaments; they wore soft leather boots on their feet, and carried gold-headed oak staves in their hands. Those with them, however, were arrayed more humbly in undyed wool.

'Heaven preserve us,' Gwalchavad muttered aloud. 'What are they doing here?'

'Peace, brother,' Bedwyr advised. 'It may be they have come to lend their aid against the plague. Any help in that struggle would be most welcome.'

'They do not look like men who have come to offer aid,' Gwenhwyvar observed. 'Far from it, I am thinking.'

Her womanly perception was keen as her eyesight, for the knit brows and firm mouths of those who approached suggested solemn purpose and inflexible resolution. The leading bishop thumped the ground with his crozier as if he were pummelling snakes, and those around him walked stiff-legged, with shoulders tight and chins outthrust. Another time, it might have been cause for laughter. But not this day; the Bear of Britain was in no merry mood.

Rhys moved to take his place with Arthur as the churchmen came to stand before us. I recognized none of them, nor any of their followers. Their arrival had, of course, drawn the attention of the men in camp, curious to see what these important visitors would say. Soon a hundred or more had gathered, which seemed to please the bishops. Rather than come face to face with the High King, they halted a dozen paces away – as if to force Arthur to come to them. I took this as a very bad sign.

'Hail, brothers in Christ! Hail and welcome,' Arthur called to them. 'In the name of our Great Lord Jesu, I give you good greeting.'

'Hail to you,' the foremost bishop replied. He did not deign to recognize the High King's rank-neither did he, nor any of the others, offer his king the customary kiss, much less the simple cordiality of a kindly blessing.

A better man than I, Arthur ignored the churchman's unwarranted insolence. 'You honour our rude war camp with your presence, my friends. Again, I give you good greeting in the name of our Lord and king,' he said amiably – heaping, as it were, flaming coals upon their heads.

Gwenhwyvar, not to be outdone, spoke up. 'We might have prepared a better welcome had we known you were coming,' she said sweetly. 'Still, we are not without common courtesy.' I smiled at this gentle rebuke of the bishops' bad manners. She turned to Rhys. 'Bring the welcome cup,' she commanded.

'Nay, lady,' the bishop said, holding up an imperious hand. He was a rotund man, solid as an ale vat in his long robes, his chief adornment a huge golden cross which hung around his neck on a heavy chain of gold. 'We will not share the common cup with you until we have spoken out what we have come to say.'

'Speak, then,' Bedwyr said, fairly bristling with menace at the churchmen's effrontery. 'God knows, you have succeeded in pricking our curiosity with your audacity.'

'If you think us too bold,' the bishop replied haughtily, 'then truly you are more timid men than we presumed.'

'It seems to me,' replied Cador, perfectly matching the cleric's icy tone, 'that you presume too much.' Then, before the irate bishop could respond, he changed tack. 'Ah, but forgive me,' he continued smoothly, 'perhaps you do not know who it is that addresses you with such good grace.' The young king raised his hand to Arthur and said, 'I give you Arthur ap Aurelius, King of Prydein, Celyddon, and Lloegres, Chief Dragon of the Island of the Mighty, and High King of all Britain.'

The pompous cleric almost burst at that. He glared at Cador and muttered, 'We know who it is we have come to see.'

Again Cador was ready with a choice reply. 'Then I must beg your pardon once more,' he said lightly, 'for it did seem to me you were in some doubt regarding the rank of the man you addressed. I only thought to ease the burden of your ignorance – if ignorance it was – for I did not imagine such a grave insult could be intentional.'

Realizing he was bettered, the gruff bishop inclined his head slowly. 'I thank you for your thoughtfulness,' he replied. Turning to Arthur, he said, 'If I have offended the mighty Pendragon, it is for me to beg his pardon.'

Arthur was losing patience. 'Who are you and why have you come?' he demanded bluntly.

'I am Seirol, Bishop of Lindum,' he announced grandly, 'and these are my brothers: Daroc, Bishop of Danum, and Abbot Petronius of Eboracum.' He raised his monkish staff to his fellow bishops, each in turn lifting a pale hand in the sign of peace. 'We come with representatives of our churches, as you see.' By this he meant the company of monks with them. 'We come by authority of Bishop Urbanus of Londinium, who sends this with his sign.' He produced a parchment roll bearing the bishop's sign and signature.

'You have wandered far from home, brothers,' Arthur remarked. 'Lindum is many days to the north – likewise Eboracum; and Londinium is no small distance away. The matter must be of some import, that you travel so far in such troubled times.'

'Well you know it, lord,' Seirol affirmed imperiously. 'We have braved many hardships – and this so that you would not have cause to doubt our resolve.'

'You seem most resolute to me,' Arthur answered.

Bedwyr, who sensed approaching danger, warned under his breath, 'Tread lightly, Bear.'

Bishop Seirol's nostrils flared with anger. 'I had heard of the rough ways of our great king,' he said disdainfully. 'I fully expected my share of abuse.'

'If you think us too rough,' Cai remarked, 'then truly you are more delicate men than I presumed.' Many of the onlookers laughed outright, and the churchmen shifted uneasily.

The bishop stared sullenly around. Raising his crozier slowly, he gave a sharp rap on the earth. 'Silence!' he cried. 'You ask why we have come here. I will tell you. We have come to perform our most righteous and holy duty in demanding that you, Arthur ap Aurelius, foreswear your kingship and yield the Sovereignty of Britain to another.'

'What!' The incredulous voice was Bedwyr's, but the thought was in every head. 'Arthur forsake the throne?'

'That is indeed a matter of some consequence,' Arthur remarked drily. 'Unless you are more fool than you seem, you must have sound reason for this grave suggestion. I would hear it now, churchman.'

Bishop Seirol frowned, but failing to discern whether Arthur's reply slighted him or not, he drew himself up and launched into the explanation he had prepared. Flourishing his crozier, he proclaimed, 'Since we have braved many dangers, do not think we will be easily discouraged. The land is in turmoil, and the people are hard pressed. All day long we are sore beset. Plague and owar have proved the doom of many, and the land calls out for justice.'

'We are not unmindful of these travails,' Cador assured him. 'If you da but look around, you will observe that even now you stand in a war camp at the forefront of the battle. Or did you think this was Londinium or Caer Uintan, and we were all hiding safe behind high walls?'