Pendragon

Mercia, shouting wildly, rushed forward and took hold of Amilcar, pulling him way before he could strike again. Bedwyr and I, having reached Arthur, stooped to examine his wound. 'It is nothing,' Arthur said, his teeth clenched. 'Help me stand. It is nothing. Here, do not let the Cymbrogi see me so.'

'Yes, yes, in a moment. I want to see the injury.' I reached a hand to the wound, but he shrugged away.

'Myrddin! Help me stand! I will not be seen to lie here!' Bedwyr, white-faced with shock and rage, took Arthur by the uninjured arm and helped him to his feet. 'The brute,' he growled. 'Give me your sword, Artos; I will gut him like a hog.’

‘Stay, brother,' Arthur said, his voice calm and even. 'It is nothing. I would not like him to think he has gained any advantage in this. Let him think I but stumbled at the spear-cast.'

I looked across to the waiting Cymbrogi. Every eye was on their king; more than a few had drawn weapons and were prepared to attack. Gwenhwyvar was running to meet us, her expression caught between concern and fury. Arthur raised a hand to halt her, and waved her back.

'Cai, Bedwyr – do not look back,' Arthur commanded. 'Walk away.'

'May his barbarian soul for ever burn in Hell,' muttered Cai. 'Take my arm, Bear; let us go from here.'

We made our way from the field with exaggerated dignity. Gwenhwyvar, Llenlleawg, and Cador brought the horses and helped Arthur to mount. 'Cymbrogi!' he called aloud. 'Have no fear for me. I am tired from the fight and Twrch's spear-cast caught me unawares. My good mail shirt has done me a service, however, and I am unharmed.'

With that, he raised his hand to them – showing that his arm was not injured – jerked the reins and rode back to camp with Gwenhwyvar beside him. Cai, Bedwyr and I followed, while the British battlehost watched the barbarians and waited for them to depart.

It was as Arthur had said, his mail shirt had done him admirable service and the wound was not serious. 'Well?' he asked, after I had examined it properly.

'It is not, as you say, nothing,' I answered. 'The lance was well thrown, if not well aimed. The blade cut through your shirt and you have an ugly gash.'

'But it could have been worse,' Gwenhwyvar added. 'Much worse.'

'Even so, I do not like the look of it,' I told them both bluntly. 'I think it best to let the cut bleed as much as it will, and then to bathe it with warm water. Put a little salt in the water to help cleanse the wound, and then bind it. Keep your shoulder warm through the night and I will examine it again in the morning.'

Both of them caught the implication of my instructions. 'Why, Myrddin? Will you not be here?'

'No. There is something I must do. Gwenhwyvar, tend to this,' I replied. 'I will return before morning.'

Gwenhwyvar rolled her eyes in exasperation, but asked no further questions. 'Go then,' she said, and bent her attention to her husband.

I left Arthur to Gwenhwyvar's able care and stepped from the tent. Already my mind was running ahead to all I must do before the sun rose again on the next day. Cai and Bedwyr, looking anxious, were waiting just outside.

'The wound is not serious,' I told them. 'I want you to aid Gwenhwyvar and guard the king's rest. I am going away, but I will return before morning-Gwalchavad will accompany me, Llenlleawg also.'

I could see the questions already forming on their lips, and waved them aside, saying, 'Fret not. Trust me.'

'And what shall we tell the lords when they ask after the king?' Bedwyr called after me.

'Tell them to honour the king's peace and all shall yet be well!' I turned and hurried away. 'Cador! Fergus!' I called, summoning them out from among the warriors gathered helplessly before the tent. They came to me at once and I instructed them to gather the tools I needed for my night's work. The two hurried away, commanding other warriors to help. 'Gwalchavad!' I called. 'Llenlleawg, come here!'

The two were beside me in an instant. 'Ready your horses, and get something to eat if you are hungry. We are leaving camp and we will not return before morning.’

‘Where are we going?' asked Gwalchavad. 'Back the way we came; back to the beginning,' I told him. He thought it a jest. 'As far as that?' he inquired lightly. 'And in only one night?'

'God willing,' I replied, 'it may not be as far away as we think.'

TWELVE

The sky was nearly dark when we rode from the camp. We did not go far – a few hills away – but well out of sight of any curious onlookers. I halted my small company beside a dry stream-bed and, while Gwalchavad tethered the horses, Llenlleawg helped me unload the wagon Cador had found.

'Why have you brought all this?' wondered Llenlleawg, hefting a hammer. 'Shovels, picks, augers, saws – why do you need all these tools?'

'You will see,' I told him. 'Gwalchavad, hurry. Listen,' I said, as he rejoined us, 'there is not much time. Before sunrise tomorrow we must accomplish two tasks: we must make a quantity of lime -'

'Not difficult, that,' Gwalchavad said. 'There is limestone enough along the riverbank, and dry wood for burning.'

'Yes,' I told him, 'I hoped one of you would notice. That shall be your task.'

'And the other?' inquired Llenlleawg. 'We are going to make a chariot.'

'A chariot!' exclaimed the Irishman mildly. 'In one night?’

‘In one night, yes.'

Gwalchavad laughed, but Llenlleawg merely nodded thoughtfully – as if it were the most ordinary of chores, making a chariot by dark of night. 'When you said we were going back to the beginning, I did not realize it would be so far,' he replied. 'Still, you can depend on me, Myrddin Emrys. I will aid you every way I can.'

'That is why I chose you,' I explained. 'And for another reason: you two are unique among the Cymbrogi, and tonight I need your singular attributes.'

They regarded one another curiously, trying to decide what I saw in them that set them apart. 'You will not see it in your faces,' I said. 'The difference is this: you are islanders.'

'Wise Emrys' – Gwalchavad laughed again – 'is it touched you are? Perhaps standing all day in the hot sun has poached the brain in your head.'

'Perhaps,' I allowed, 'but it seems to me that you have lived more closely to the ancient ways than most men in the south.'

'True,' remarked the son of Orcady proudly. 'The Eagles could not subdue the wild islands. The Lords of the North never suffered the taint of Rome.'

'Nor did Ireland,' put in Llenlleawg quickly. 'Precisely. I knew you would understand. Now' – I clapped my hands – 'to work!'

They fell to the task with a will and never asked the reason why. Like Celts of old they simply laboured for their bard at his behest; if the Chief Bard wanted a chariot, that is what he would have. My heart swelled with pride to see their simple trust. Does this, from the exalted height of your enlightened age, seem to you an insignificant thing? I tell you it is not! Belief is everything. These trusting men would labour day or night willingly because they believed – in me, in the old ways, in the loyalty which bound them to their king. They lived their belief, and if asked they would gladly die for it. Tell me now, who in your glorious age holds a belief so strong?

Well, we went about our tasks, as I say. The moonlight was more than adequate for Gwalchavad, who set about digging a shallow bowl in the riverbank-this would become the kiln he would fill with firewood and chunks of limestone dug from the cliffside. I kindled a fire for myself and Llenlleawg, as he began removing the wagon's front wheels and axle.

While the others were busy at these chores, I sought the woad. The plants were stunted and withered, owing to the long dry season, but as I had only a solitary torso to daub and not a whole warband, I soon gathered all I needed. I chopped the leaves and upper stalks into a small cauldron which I filled with water and set beside the flames to boil. Then I turned my attention to helping Llenlleawg.

It is not so very difficult to make a chariot from a wagon – something that resembles one, at least. Once the smaller front heels, axle, and sides were removed, we detached the pole and fixed it to the back, mounting the high frontpiece to what had been the rear to give the driver something to hold to. We then concerned ourselves with adding another harness to the pole and chain for a second horse. It is possible to pull a chariot with one horse, but much easier with two.