In my confusion over the lateness of the hour and my delight over my new clothing, I had completely forgotten that this was the day Connor and Brander were to leave, . but the reminder offered an immediate explanation for Arthur's mood, which was somewhat subdued and faintly melancholy. Morag was gone from him again, and I knew the best thing I could do was turn the boy's attention towards what lay ahead of him.
"Your Northumbrians, are they assembled yet?"
"No, but they are waiting for our summons. "
"That is good, because I have not eaten yet and we have another matter to discuss before we come to them. Let's see if we can beg some scraps from Plato's pantry. "
A short time later, the five of us sat around a table in one of the storerooms flanking the Villa's enormous kitchens, helping ourselves from the heaps of food Plato had piled before us. There was bread, newly baked and still warm from the oven, tiny, fresh apples, plums and pears from the gardens in the central yard and a wide variety of cold cuts of whole meat and spiced sausages. There was also a choice of fresh milk from the barns or well watered vinum. Once satisfied that starvation was not to be my lot that day, I turned to Llewellyn.
"Someone told Arthur last night that he is to return to Cambria with you, and he was taken unawares, since he knew nothing about it and did not—does not—know you. It occurred to me then that you know equally little of him, and yet you'll be responsible for him while he is in your care, so I decided to tell you something about him while he is present to hear it. He is an adequate bowman, perhaps slightly below average at this stage. It is my hope that you will refine his shooting skills while he is in your care. He has the makings of an excellent swordsman, according to his teachers, Rufio and Dedalus, though I know he'll have little use for swordsman's skills among your folk. He's also bred to horseback and that, too, will have to change in your homeland—under your tutorial influence, he will learn to use his legs and increase his wind and stamina... You should also be aware that he can read and write Latin with perfect fluency, and has read widely in his great grandfather's books. " I glanced at Arthur to see his expression before continuing. The lad was narrow eyed, listening closely.
"I've told you, I believe, that his great grandfather, Publius Varrus, was a master ironsmith and a maker of superb weapons. He even taught me something of his craft in my boyhood, albeit very little. But little as it was, I still remember much of it, and it taught me a great respect for swords and for the iron from which they are made. " Now I turned directly to Arthur. "Llewellyn, here, is also a master smith, and it is my hope that he'll consent to teach you something of his craft. It could teach you much about why the weapon you prefer, the sword, contains the greatness that it does. It should also teach you to respect the properties of the materials—all materials—with which you must work, be they metals or men.
"You commented last night on the fact that my friend here wears a mask, and I responded harshly and, I fear, wrongly. " I paused, and Arthur looked mortified. "As you grow older you will learn, as all of us have learned, that all men wear masks of one kind or another, some of them as seemingly harmless as a smile, although that smile may be the most deceitful mask of all. All of us seek, at some time, to conceal what lies beneath our faces. Many do so because they fear their treachery will shine through their skin. Some, a compassionate and unfortunate few, wear masks to spare the people who surround them from pain, or fear, or embarrassment. " I turned back to Llewellyn. "Will you remove your mask, my friend?"
He must have sensed what I was about, because he straightened slightly and then simply pulled the narrow headband that secured it up over his skull. The silence that greeted the sight of his ruined face was profound, and he grinned, the good side of his face smiling while the left side grimaced hideously, baring his eyetooth through the hole in his cheek.
'This is the true mask, " he said, speaking directly to Arthur. Then he held up the leather flap with its stark eyeholes. "This one is merely a curtain. Don't feel badly about how you feel, I've had a lifetime to grow hardened to that. Mine is a face to frighten children, I know, but I never see it. I spent years hating myself and everyone around me, for I did not always look like this, and I remembered how it was before I was disfigured. But in recent years I have learned that some people, friends, can see beyond the scars and horror. I have a wife who loves me and respects me. I have children who have seen no other face on me, and therefore accept me as I am, for who I am. I've learned to live with it."
Arthur's face settled into an expression of concern and sympathy, showing no trace of the initial horror that had flared in him when the mask first came off. Now he leaned slightly towards Llewellyn. "How did it happen?"
"Molten metal, carelessly handled. It should have killed me, but I was young and strong, so I survived. I was apprenticed to a smith who liked strong drink. One day he drank too much, and stumbled, and the liquid metal splashed. Not much, but it landed on me."
Arthur shuddered, and so, I noticed, did the others. "And you are still a smith?"
"Not still. I wasn't then. I was a beginning prentice, twelve years old. I became a smith later, once I discovered that I had more in common with iron than I did with people. So, will you come with me to Cambria, lad, to meet your father's people and to learn about his land?"
Arthur looked at me, and his eyes filled up with tears. Although I had no notion of what was going through his mind, I found a great relief welling up inside of me and felt a thickening in my own throat and an unaccountable prickling behind my eyes. "Aye," he whispered, nodding emphatically as though to convince some inner part of himself that doubted still. "I win. "
"There's on you, boy! We'll have a time, I promise you, and Huw Strongarm will teach you even more than I, once we come by him. We'll leave as soon as may be, for I'll tell you, I find myself uncomfortable here, cooped up by walls I cannot climb. Mountains are higher, and much wilder, but a man can pass freely among them and find sustenance in any part of them. Here, you have only kitchens, filled with folk all hungrier than you, and you must live with what they leave. No freedom here, boy—no fish to catch, nor fowl to shoot nor rabbits to snare, no eggs among the heather and no deer grazing in the stone courtyards. Tomorrow and today we'll spend preparing, and the morning after that we'll be away, free with the winds and rain. You're going to love your Cambria, my lad. I'll work you hard and drive you mad, but you will thrive on it. And wait you till you see the flashing eyes and other parts on Cambrian lasses! There's a treat in store for you! None bonnier there are in all the world, you'll see. Do you sing?".
Arthur looked at me again, mystified, but I merely smiled. "Do I sing? No, I don't, not much. But I can sing. "
"Aye, if you're your father's son you can. You'll sing among the mountains, won't be able to stop yourself, for there the gods dwell, boy, and they all sing. "
I stood up, grinning, and spoke to Ambrose, who had uttered not a single word in all of this. "Time now to go and meet your guests. Shall we?"
The meeting with Vortigern's representatives was straightforward and uneventful and contained only one startling piece of information. One of the Northumbrians, the senior man among them, spoke of Vortigern's hopes for a peaceful settlement of the problem that had been simmering for so long between him and Horsa's young, land hungry warriors. According to his report, some form of accommodation had been reached between Vortigern, or Horsa himself, and a small, well established settlement of Danes in the far south east, in that region known as the Weald but which the Danes were now calling Kent, or some such Outlandish name. This corner of Britain, the original Saxon Shore, had recently begun to attract massive incursions of Germanic tribes seeking a foothold in Britain. Although the local residents, so recently arrived themselves, had so far been able to repulse : these attacks, the numbers of marauders had continued to grow consistently and frighteningly, so that defeat seemed inevitable to the land holding defenders.