Page 27 of Warrior Queen

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The first one had been bad enough, but this was worse. Great empty spaces over the rushing brown waters gaped across the bridge, some of it with only a few feet of planking remaining on one side. And it was longer than the first one had been, over a wider channel of the river.

I swallowed the hard lump of fear that had risen in my throat. We couldn’t go back now. We had to go on. I kept my legs on Alezan’s sides, and she stepped onto the dark wooden planks. They creaked under our combined weight, and my heart did a leap that sent my stomach twisting into knots. Ahead, a wide gap stretched. I mustn’t look down. I mustn’t. The roaring of the water filled my ears.

Alezan kept going, either unaware of my fear, or so confident she didn’t care. Usually, nerves communicate themselves to horses, and if you’re afraid, they are too. Maybe, after all, Iwasdoing a good job at hiding my terror.

From behind me came the creak as Merlin’s horse trod the same dodgy planks as Alezan. I didn’t look back. Fixing my eyes on the far abutment of the bridge, determined to ignore the huge temptation to look down into the raging waters, I urged my horse forward.

The narrowest bit lay ahead. Broken planks jutted into thin air. I kept my eyes on the path I wanted Alezan to take, my breath coming so fast I was in danger of hyperventilating. The planking groaned. Was that the crack of splintering wood? I fixed my gaze on the bridge abutment, willing myself to get there. Alezan’s hooves trod stone.

We were across.

In a moment Merlin was beside me. Heaving an enormous juddering breath, I turned my head to look him in the eye, and found admiration there. But the men were still on the bridge. We hurried down the slope and back into the floodwaters to give them space, heading to where the land rose in the distance, and the road emerged from the water.

We hadn’t lost a single man or horse, but there was no way I was coming back by this route.

*

Caer Went laythirty miles southwest of Caer Gloui and our precarious river crossing. My one consolation was that a ferry crossing with the river in spate like this would have been impossible, so taking the road to the ferry would have cost us time. I’d made the right decision to come the long way around, terrifying as it had turned out to be.

We crossed the River Wye, that Merlin called the Guoy, by an altogether more robust construction, to my relief, late in the afternoon. Evening was drawing in as we approached Caninus’s town of Caer Went, and its high, many-towered walls, a place I’d last seen straight after Arthur had drawn the sword from the stone.

The sturdy double gates remained firmly closed until we were within hailing distance, and only when the guards were satisfied of who we were did they swing one side of them open and allow us to enter. This was a place, along with Caer Legeion, ten miles distant, that I’d visited more than once with my father. Hard to believe he’d driven our battered old Land Rover down the very same road our horses were now taking– fifteen hundred years from now.

As with so many Roman towns in Britain, now their builders had been gone nearly a century, change had eroded the old way of life, and the pre-Roman Celtic traditions, which had been lying dormant, had largely taken over. Where once houses had stood in every carefully laid out quadrant of the town, small fields had taken their place, green with growing vegetables, fruit orchards and even some wheat and barley. A patchwork of different textures.

Thanks to the lateness of the day, not many people were still about, and those that were paid us scant attention. They had work to do– tending livestock, weeding vegetable patches, sweeping the streets in front of their homes.

The old forum and ruins of the once enormous basilica came into view, occupying the central and most important spot in the town. Once, the basilica must have stood sixty feet tall with several floors and been the center for administration of this part of the Roman province. Now, though, the roof had gone, and the walls had crumbled to half their original height. Through the entrance, I glimpsed empty market stalls around the sides, beside boarded up entrances to what might have been shops, and heaps of rubbish. Undulating flagstones covered the ground, vigorous weeds poking up between them. A reek of sad decay assaulted my nostrils.

Merlin headed to the left, down a side road, and within minutes we were standing in the courtyard of a mansio– the equivalent of a modern motel. At the end of the short street, a bricked-up gateway marked the abandoned southern entrance to the town.

“We should settle our men in here, then pay our respects to Caninus,” Merlin advised. “His guards will have told him of our arrival already, no doubt.”

I slid down from Alezan, gladder than I’d have admitted to have the ground beneath my feet again. It was a wonder all warriors weren’t bandy-legged.

Down one side of the courtyard stood a row of open-fronted, thatched stalls, a few tatty horses already tethered in their shelter. Roomy enough for all our mounts. I glanced around at my men, all dismounting as stiffly as I’d done. However much you were used to riding, day after day of long hours in the saddle left you stiff. Even young Rhiwallon and his friends looked relieved to have their feet on the ground.

However, our horses’ needs came first. A cavalry is no good if its horses aren’t well looked after. I tied Alezan up in one of the stalls, untacked her and set about rubbing her down, greasing her tack, and giving her water and fodder. All along our horse lines every man did the same.

With my horse settled and eating her hay, it was at last time to attend to my own needs. Carrying my helmet and shield, I followed Merlin into the cool interior of the mansio, where an elderly man, wearing a too-short tunic over bandy, skinny legs and with a fluffy fringe of hair circling his otherwise bald head, lay in wait for us.

“My lords,” he began, then did a double take, his voice rising to a surprised squeak. “I’m so sorry. Mylady.” He bobbed a not very neat bow.

Merlin set his helmet on the long table of what appeared to be the inn’s dining room. “This is Queen Guinevere, wife of the High King.” No beating about the bush here.

The man’s jaw dropped, his expression going from disbelief to shock. The sweeping second bow he made revealed the liberally freckled top of his head. “At your service, M-milady.” His voice was muffled, as he managed to say this while examining his feet.

“Do get up,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Ewyn, Milady.” He straightened, eyes wide– probably at seeing a queen dressed like a warrior. It seemed his fringe of fluffy gray hair had gone into shock as well, as it now stood out around his head like a dandelion clock.

“Well, Ewyn,” I said. “My men and I are tired and sore after our long journey. I need to visit my cousin, your king. But first we all need rooms. And I need hot water for a wash. A bath if you have it.”

Being a queen had its advantages. Within a very short time I’d been given a small but comfortable room equipped with a bed, a chair and a rickety table. Three servants brought a wooden bathtub lined with a linen sheet and some buckets of steaming water. I removed my mail shirt while they fetched more water, then kicked my boots off, watching the steam rise tantalizingly from the bath. The days since leaving Din Cadan had made me sweaty, dirty and smelly.

Six more buckets and the tub was full enough. I sent them away and, having struggled out of the rest of my clothes, dipped a grubby toe into the water. Warm enough to make me jump straight in. I lowered myself into the tub, the hot water creeping up my body. Too small for submersion, but better than the bucket of tepid water I’d once had at a similar establishment, while the men all went off to the bath house. A location that had turned out to be next best thing to a brothel. Hopefully this mansio, in the austere Caninus’s town, wouldn’t turn out to be similar.

Half an hour later, glowing from my ablutions and wearing the one gown I’d brought with me, my wet hair neatly braided, I knocked on Merlin’s door.