I gripped the shaft of my long spear and reined my horse in tightly as it tried to move in protest at being bitten by a fly. "We are the owners of this land," I said. "And you are raiders. We may dress like Romans and we certainly fight like Romans, but we are Britons, concerned only with defending our homes, our people and our lands against the likes of you, invaders from beyond the seas."
He threw his head up haughtily. "Invaders, is it?"
I shrugged. "Invaders, pirates, raiders—it makes no difference. You do not belong here and you come in war so, as you said, it is time for you to die."
He fell into a crouch and his men tensed behind him. "Come and kill us then, if you can."
I smiled down at him. "Oh, we can. Be in no doubt of that." I started to raise my arm to give the signal to engage, but he stopped me.
"Wait!"
I dropped my arm. "Well?"
He licked his lips and looked around my men again. All of their eyes were on me. 'Take us as prisoners!"
In spite of myself I had to grin, admiring the fellow's gall. "Prisoners? Three hundred of you? You can't be serious! What would we do with three hundred prisoners? Spend the rest of our lives looking after you and waiting for you to rise up and attempt escape?" I shook my head. "No, that won't do at all, I think—"
He broke in, "You will not have to keep us long. King Lot will buy us free."
Now I laughed aloud. "Lot? King Lot? Has the caterpillar sprouted beauteous wings? King Lot!" I stopped laughing and shook my head. "You are twice mad, my giant fellow. Mad to think that animal would care whether you live or die, and mad again to think we'd sell you to him to let him use you against us a second time."
When next the young man spoke, there was urgency and conviction in his words. "He will buy us free, I swear it! He has to! He has no other choice."
That gave me pause. I gentled my horse again and looked the giant straight in the eye. "You intrigue me. Lot, from the little I know of him, will always have other choices. But speak on. Tell me what you mean."
He licked his lips again and let the head of his battle axe fall to the ground, straightening from his crouch as he did so. "I am Donuil, High Prince of the people the Romans call the Scotii. My father Athol is Ard Righ, the High King. My sister Ygraine is to be wife to Lot of Cornwall, and alliance has been made between Lot and my father: he aids us in our wars; we aid him in his. This has been our first fight on his behalf."
"You didn't do too well, did you?" I raised my arm and our circle broke apart as I had ordered, leaving a ring of mounted men behind which three large arrowhead formations formed, their points facing inward. He watched my people carry out their orders like machines, his face losing some of its high colour. Three single trumpet blasts told me the manoeuvre had been completed and I raised my arm again. The remainder of the circle broke and formed one massive square formation behind my arrowhead. The young giant in front of me returned his gaze to mine, his face gaunt.
"It is time to die, my friend," I said. "We cannot afford to keep you alive, and besides, with any luck, my cousin Uther has already killed King Lot. Fight well, and farewell." Again I started to raise my arm and again he stopped me.
"Your cousin Uther? That means you must be Merlyn."
I bowed my head slightly in acknowledgement. "I am. So?"
"They say you are a man of sense and honour."
"Do they?" I felt a wry smile on my face and a tug of regret that I had to kill this man. "And who are they? Lot of Cornwall knows nothing of sense or honour, and I would be surprised to hear any ally of his profess to know of them."
"I have heard the Druids speak of you."
I was becoming impatient and ill at ease with this. I had no wish to personalize an enemy before killing him.
"What is your point, man?" My voice reflected my impatience.
"I will make a bargain with you, Merlyn." His eyes were desperate and I felt a formless stirring of distaste.
"What kind of bargain do I need to make with the likes of you?" I asked with half a sneer forming unbidden on my lips.
"Life! Lives.. .Your men and mine."
Now what? "Go on," I said, "I'm listening."
He swallowed hard and looked at the men crowded behind him. Their faces were grim, but I took it as a sign of respect for their king's son that their silence remained absolute. He spoke again to me.
"Enough have died. My people will never recover from this loss. We are beaten." He drew a great, shuddering breath. "If we have to die now we will, but we will take a lot of your men with us."
"So? That is a soldier's risk." I pursed my lips. "I'm still waiting for you to make your point."
"It is this: You fight me, man to man, on foot. If I win, let my men and I go free, back to our boats and home. You have my word of honour that you will hear no more from us."
I raised an eyebrow. "And if I win?"
He shrugged. "Then my people withdraw, leaving their weapons here."
"And go home anyway? You call that a bargain? You win both ways."
He shook his head, a short, violent shake. "No! You do. All of your men remain alive too, but they keep their weapons either way. If my men go home without theirs they will be disgraced forever."
"Disgraced forever? Why?"
He shrugged his huge shoulders. "It is the way of our people. Cowardice is unforgivable."
"So why would you even suggest such a solution?"
He looked me straight in the eye and I saw truth in his gaze. "I think I can beat you. But even if I lose, they will still be alive. They will continue my race."
I decided quite suddenly that I liked this young man. He had a dignity about him that reminded me of my great-uncle Ullic. I considered his bargain and my mind leaped ahead of it. He was big and strong enough to beat me, but that did not worry me. If we fought, I felt that I would have the victory, but then I remembered my father's recent rebuke after my foolish confrontation with the bear. In the fight the young Celt was proposing, one of us must die, and the odds were even that it might be I who fell. It would be irresponsible to take that risk in front of my own troops. I shook my head.
"No," I said. "But I have an alternative offer. Surrender yourself, alone, to me personally, as my prisoner. If you do so, I'll escort your men back to their boats and send them home, with their weapons. You will be hostage for their good behaviour."
He frowned at me. "Without a fight?"
"You've had your fight." I nodded to the road behind him. "You lost, remember?"
He shrugged his shoulders again and looked down at the axe in his hands. "I have no choice, have I? How long will you keep me prisoner?"
I had not even considered that. I did so now. "Five years," I told him. "If at the end of that time we have had no more trouble with your people, I will release you."
"Five years?" He was aghast. "Five years of bondage? Chained up like a bear?"
I shook my head slightly. "I made no mention of chaining you up. You will be my prisoner. You gave me your word that your men would leave and stay away as part of your initial bargain. You did so in a manner that made me believe I might trust that word. I would be prepared to trust it still if you promised not to attempt escape, but to serve your time with me."
"Serving you?"
"Serving with me."
Our eyes locked and his narrowed as if trying to see beyond mine, into my head. Then he gave a curt nod. "Agreed. But let my people go."
"I will. Did any escape from the far side of the woods?"
"I don't know." His eyes were bleak.
"Well," I said, "we will find out. If there are survivors there with my father's troops, Will they be bound by your bargain, too?"