My ruse did not work. One of the Vandali raised his lance and made to strike. The narrow blade hovered, poised in the air, but the hand was stayed by a quick shout from the shadows. A voice barked a harsh order and the warrior froze.
I waited, my heart thumping violently in my chest. The spear still hesitated over me. I was less than a hair's breadth from death.
Then the voice spoke again. This time, to my complete surprise, it said, 'Stand easy. You are in great danger.'
With these words, a figure emerged from the gloom and came to stand before me. Though large and fully as powerful as those with him, he was younger than any of the others. I recognized him at once as one of the Black Boar's piglets: the young chieftain they called Mercia.
'I am well aware of my danger,' I replied easily. 'You need have no fear of me, Mercia. I am unarmed.'
He started at my use of his name. 'How do you know me?' I remembered him as the one who had remarked on Arthur's youth at that first meeting. 'You speak forthrightly,' I told him. 'Hergest has taught you well.' He stared. 'You know this, too?'
Well, it could be no other way. But I did not let on. Instead, I touched my forehead meaningfully and said, 'I am a bard; I know a great many things.'
His eyes narrowed shrewdly. 'Then tell me why I have come here.'
Without hesitation, I said, 'You have come to spy upon the British camp as you have done many nights before. Amilcar depends on the information you bring to order the battle. This is how Amilcar was able to defeat Arthur today.'
His eyes grew wide. 'Hergest said you were a mighty man of wisdom. The priest ever speaks true – even to his hurt.' Clearly, this high regard for truth impressed him.
'Will you sit with me, Mercia?' I said, indicating a place on the ground beside me. 'There is something I would tell you.’
‘You have been waiting for me?'
I let him think this. 'Sit. Let us talk.' I had no idea what I would say to him. My only plan was to win his confidence and find some way to persuade him to let me go. Even so, as he stood over me, quivering with indecision, a plan formed in my mind.
'Please,' I said, smiling in what I hoped was a confident and persuasive manner, 'we have little time. They will come looking for me soon.'
Signalling to his men, he growled a quick command; they raised their spears and backed away. Mercia sat down on the ground opposite, cross-legged, lance in his lap. We regarded one another in the fading light. 'What have you to say?' he asked at last.
'It is in my mind that Amilcar does not hold the trust of all his battlechiefs,' I said slowly, watching him to make certain that he followed my meaning. It was a crude but effective guess; I have never known a war leader yet who enjoyed the entire and utter confidence of all his lords. God knows, even Arthur, fighting for Britain's survival, battled his own lords.
He studied me a long time, as if making up his mind. Finally he said, 'It is true, there have been many disputes since coming here.' He paused. I nodded, understanding only too well – drawing the young man further into his confession. He obliged me by continuing with quiet defiance, 'Our renowned War Leader holds not the favour of all.'
'I believe your War Leader often goes against those who counsel wisdom – ' I suggested, watching Mercia's face for nuances of expression to guide me. I saw what I expected to see and thrust home, saying, 'All the more when those chieftains are held in low esteem because of their youth.'
The young battlechiefs eyes flashed quick fire, and I knew I had struck the raw wound of his complaint. 'He is a most stubborn lord,' Mercia allowed cautiously. 'Once he has set his hand to a thing, he will never yield – though it were wiser by far to do so.'
His use of the words 'by far' expressed worlds of meaning to me. And I began to discern the slenderest golden glimmer of hope.
'Listen to me, Mercia,' I said. 'You are closer to your desire than you know. Trust and believe.'
He regarded me suspiciously, and I feared I had pressed him too far. Mercia threw a quick sideways glance at his men, who were watching us closely. He uttered a low, growling command, but they made no move or response.
Turning back to me he said, 'Do you know my thought, truly?'
'It is as I have told you,' I replied. 'I know a great many things.'
'I will never betray my lord,' he said, and I sensed the shape of his fear.
'I seek an honourable settlement,' I assured him. 'Treachery will have no part in it, neither betrayal.' I held him with the uncompromising certainty of my voice. 'But I demand honour for honour; loyalty must be repaid with loyalty. Do you understand?'
He nodded. There was nothing sly about his acceptance, but I wanted assurance.
'Hear me, Mercia, the honour I demand is costly indeed. It will be bought with blood.'
'I understand,' he muttered impatiently. He glanced sideways again, then said, 'What must I do?'
'Only this,' I spoke in an ominous tone, raising my hand in the gesture of command, 'when the time comes to add your voice to the support of peace you must not be silent.'
He did not expect that. I could see him struggling to find a hidden meaning in my words. 'Is there nothing else?'
'That is enough. Truly, it is more than many brave men will dare.'
He drew himself up. 'My courage has never been doubted.'
'I believe you.'
'When will this take place?'
'Soon.'
He rose abruptly, and stood over me, at once menacing and wary. 'I could kill you now and no one would know.'
'Yes. That is true.'
'You said I must trust you, yet you offer no token of trust.' His hand tightened on his spear.
'Then accept this as a sign,' I replied, rising slowly to my feet to face him. 'There will be no attack against you tomorrow. The British will remain in camp, nursing their wounds. Tell this to Amilcar.'
He turned on his heel and, snapping a quick order to his men, disappeared into the shadows. The men stood watching me, and I feared Mercia had indeed ordered my death. I remained motionless – resistance was impossible, and flight
would do no good. The spears swung up with a decisive motion. With an effort I held myself steady.
Within the space of three heartbeats, the warriors were gone, melting quietly back into the darkness.
I listened for them, but heard only the faint murmur of voices rising from the camp below. I turned to see the campfires shining bright as earthbound stars, and sweet relief gave way to sudden apprehension.
Great Light, what have I done?
SEVEN
I maintained my vigil through the night, heart and mind clutching tight to the slender hope that had been granted me: the saving of Britain and the Kingdom of Summer. Since even the most compelling dreams can dissipate into the empty air when touched by the sun's hard light, I waited for what the day would bring – hope refreshed, or despair confirmed.
Certainty of purpose came with the dawn. Up I rose, thanking the High King of Heaven and all his saints and angels for the weapon delivered into my hand. As the sun rose blood-red over the eastern ridge, I returned to camp to find the war host already stirring, readying themselves for the day's battle.
I went directly to Arthur's tent and he admitted me, yawning and scratching himself. Following him into the tent, I could not help noticing that Gwenhwyvar was nowhere in sight. 'She prefers to bathe early,' Arthur said.
'I would speak to you alone first,' I replied, and told him about my chance encounter with Mercia, and what the young battlechief had told me of dissention among the Vandali. The king sat in his chair before me, shaking his head. 'Do you understand what I am telling you?'
Arthur frowned. No, he did not understand at all. 'Why must we stay in camp?'