The temptation was strong, but no. No. The time was not come. He was too young yet, too young to shoulder such a burden. Once he took it up, he would carry it to the grave. Let him live free a little longer.
FOUR
Caer Edyn sat on a bluff overlooking a broad expanse of shining water called Muir Guidan, an eastward-looking bay that opens onto what had come to be known as the Saecsen Sea. Lord Ectorius ruled his realm with a steady hand. Fair, generous, as ready for a feast as a fight, Ectorius was descended from a long line of Roman officers – centurions mostly, and a tribune or two as well – who had served the coastal garrisons of the eastern shores.
Ectorius was carrying on his family's ancestral trade: watching the sea for the dark, knife-shaped hulls of enemy ships.
Bluff Ector served a king, however, rather than a legate; his service was for life, not the twenty years of the Roman army; and instead of Mithras of the legionaries, he worshipped the Christ of the British saints. Apart from these minor distinctions, life for Ectorius was little different from the life his Roman forefathers would have known.
His stone-walled stronghold lay three days' journey from the place of Gathering. It was a fine ride through the Eildon hills north and east to the sea. Arthur stayed near me all the way; not from any apprehension, I think. He merely seemed glad of familiar company. We talked about the things we had seen at the Gathering: the warriors, their skill with the various weapons, the differences in styles of fighting.
Arthur had an eye for subtlety – a quality not usually associated with him in later times. But he could tell the difference between a squared bit and a round one in a horse's mouth by the way the animal behaved as its rider manoeuvred on the field. Or from which kind of wood a spear shaft was made by the way it sounded when struck on a shield.
Talking to Arthur was not like talking to another boy his age. At eight, he had already acquired a wide and practical knowledge of many subjects. He could read and write good Latin, and speak it well enough to make himself understood by even the most demanding cleric.
He also knew the craft and lore of wood and field: the various trees and shrubs and their uses; the proper herbs for simple medicines and potions; the edible wild plants and where they might be found; all the birds and animals and their habits… and much else besides.
I was responsible for this, yes. From our earliest days with him, Pelleas and I had schooled the boy in lore of every kind, filling his head with the wonders of the world around him. And Arthur, little Arthur, took to it as he took to everything else: with a fever of passion and determination.
In this, his breeding told. He had inherited all of Aurelius' ardour and intensity, and Ygerna's quick intelligence. He also had a generous portion of Uther's dauntless tenacity – which some times showed itself as courage, and otherwise as blunt bullheadedness.
He also possessed Aurelius' curious innocence in battle: the fearless forgetting which led him to attempt and to achieve the impossible. This would, of course, come to be noticed much later. But even now he could be seen to exhibit a certain disregard for his own safety. I recognized it well, and knew its source, for I had ridden with Aurelius.
In anyone else it would have been called carelessness. Or foolishness, more like. But it was never that. Arthur simply did not feel afraid. Daring, bravery, boldness, valour – these are qualities of overcoming fear.
What is it, then, when there is no fear?
As I say, we talked of the Gathering and of the year to come. I could see that Arthur was determined to make the best of his necessary exile. He liked Ectorius, and respected him as a ruler and warrior; he was eager to learn the skills Ectorius could teach him.
At dusk on the third day, we came upon Caer Edyn, approaching from the west along a wide, winding glen. At the end of the valley we began the ascent to the bluff. The fortress stood on the bare hump of an enormous rock, overlooking the better part of the bay far below.
Rock walls topped by a timber palisade and ringed by a great, deep ditch bore testimony to the fact that Caer Edyn had seen more than its share of Saecsen fighting – and survived.
In the golden light of a fiery northern sunset, the stone and timber shone as bronze; solid, invincible. And although the land around the fortress appeared comfortable enough – sheltered as it was behind the high sea bluffs – I knew the northern realm climes could be harsh and unforgiving.
Circling seabirds and the uncluttered view of the wide, empty sea made Caer Edyn appear a lonely place. Arthur felt it, too, withdrawing into himself as we climbed the narrow hill track leading to the stronghold. But any melancholy was instantly dispelled upon reaching the summit.
'Myrddin!' Arthur motioned me to him. 'Look!'
I rode to him and we sat gazing over the long, curving swathe of blue water that formed Muir Guidan. Across the bay, wooded hills, steep and dark, came down to the water's edge. Away to the north we could see smoke from a small shoreside settlement threading into the air.
'Peanfahel,' one of the warriors told us. He had stopped beside us to take in the view. 'And beyond it there,' he said, pointing farther north and west, 'that is Manau Gododdin. The Saecsen always want to settle there. We have fought in Gododdin many times, and will again.'
The man continued on his way to the caer. Other warriors were hurrying by. 'What do you think of your new home, Arthur?' I asked.
'It suits me, I think. It is more open than Caer Tryfan – more like Caer Myrddin.' He turned in the saddle to face me. 'And here I am not so far from Bedwyr. Perhaps we might see each other sometimes.'
'Perhaps,' I allowed. 'But travel to and from Rheged is still very difficult.'
'Well, some time… maybe…" He looked out across the bay and at the dark hills on the other side, as if he were looking at the Orcady Islands and wondering how to get there. Presently, he lifted the reins, coaxing his pony forward, and we continued on to the caer.
Ectorius was waiting for us as we entered the stone-paved yard. 'Welcome, my friends!' he called, his voice ringing off the stone. 'Welcome to Caer Edyn, the last outpost of the Empire!' So began our long sojourn in the north.
That first night in Caer Edyn Arthur missed Bedwyr sorely. It had been years since either of them had been without the other. He slept poorly, and woke early, finding his way to the stables to see his pony. Satisfied that all was in order, he returned and with slow steps made his way to the hall where Ectorius waited with a surprise.
'My son, Caius!' announced Lord Ectorius with noticeable pride as he presented a sturdy, stocky youth a few years older than Arthur. The boy scowled, uncertain whether to trust us. 'This is Arthur,' Ectorius told his son. 'He will be living here from now on. Make him welcome, son.'
'W-welcome, A-A-Arth-thur,' muttered Caius. Then he turned and hobbled off quickly, all but dragging his right leg behind him.
'As a babe, the lad fell from a rock and broke his leg,' explained Ectorius gently. 'The bone set poorly, so Caius has limped ever since.' His father did not mention the stutter-an affliction noticeable only when he became excited, frustrated, or, as now, anxious.
Clearly, Ectorius hoped for the best between the boys. 'It is lonely for the lad,' he explained. 'They will learn a liking for one another, I think. Yes.'
I, too, wondered how Arthur would get on with the surly Caius. But since there is no force in all the world that can make friends of two boys who do not want to be friends, I let the thing rest.
As it happened, the matter was settled quickly enough. For later that same day, Arthur induced a most reticent Caius to show him something of the land round about the caer.
They rode to the little shoreside settlement at Peanfahel, and on the way, Arthur learned a remarkable thing about his reluctant new friend: the boy could ride like a young god, or like the bhean sidhe of the hollow hills, whose horses were descended from the steeds of the Everliving on the Glass Isle in the Western Sea.