Page 73 of The Quest for Excalibur
The wind that spread our banner soughed in the nearby treetops, rustling the autumn leaves and making the branches whisper like old gossips. Champing on their bits, our horses shifted their weight and pawed their feet as the few flies that still remained tried to bite. Men fidgetted in their saddles, and a few muttered comments under their breath to one another. Some coughed, cleared their throats and spat. Chainmail rattled, bridles jingled. Overhead a pair of buzzards wheeled on a thermal, mewing to each other like lost cats.
Cadwy didn’t hurry. He’d come a long way in what must have been only three days and no doubt his men and their horses would be tired. And most likely he didn’t want Arthur to think him too obliging. That would be Cadwy to a tee.
He brought his men to a halt fifty yards from our ranks, in a column ten wide, like ours. Close enough to see his ever more corpulent bulk astride a horse of similar proportions. Good living had taken its toll on Arthur’s older half-brother, and although he couldn’t be in more than his mid-forties, his hair, hanging in greasy curls down his back, had gone iron gray, as had his thick beard.
Beside him, his only son, Prince Custennin, a slimmer, younger version of Cadwy, but with his mother, Angharad’s, pale hazel eyes, sat astride a beautiful dapple-gray horse. I’d seen this prince from afar at every Council of Kings, the last time three years ago, standing mute behind his father’s seat, his sharp gaze scanning the faces of the assembled kings. However, thanks to the lack of cordiality between the two brothers, I’d never spoken with him.
I surveyed him now with interest– he must have been a few years older than Llacheu, with a neat, jaw-hugging beard and the same long aquiline nose as Arthur. Whether by chance or because he felt my scrutiny, his head turned and for a moment our eyes met. Was that a touch of surprise to see a woman in armor, pure curiosity, or just the calculated examination of a potentially wise leader? His gaze moved on before I had a chance to decide.
Nerves tingling, I glanced at Merlin, but he had his eyes fixed on Cadwy.
After a long-drawn-out moment, Arthur touched his horse with his heels and pushed him forward, halting halfway between the front ranks of the massed armies. Wise enough not to get too close to that scorpion’s curling tail.
I bit my lip with fresh anxiety. We could almost be lined up for battle with each other, and yet the feeling pulsing between the rows of warriors was not one of animosity, but rather of eager expectancy.
The young prince leaned toward his father to say something, and Cadwy nodded. With a hefty kick, he urged his horse forward. It stepped out smartly across the grass despite its solid build, tossing its head. As he came level with Arthur, Cadwy hauled it to a halt, dwarfing his brother with his bulk, even though Arthur was not a small man.
They stared at one another for a pregnant moment, perhaps each weighing up the other and his intentions. Then Cadwy stretched out his great ham of a hand to Arthur, and Arthur took it. Clasping forearms, they shook.
Chapter Thirty-Six
As we madeour way back up the hill to the old fortress, the two armies kept warily to their ordered ranks, with a good twenty paces between them. Merlin, Cei, and I kept our places beside Arthur at the head of the men of Dumnonia, while Custennin and an older man rode beside Cadwy in front of the men of Powys. Something familiar clung to the older man’s solid, pot-bellied form and grizzled chin, itching at my memory whenever I took a sideways glance at him.
However, brimming with mistrust, I tried to keep my eyes fixed on Cadwy, far too close for me to feel safe, although probably the time for treachery had passed.
With no room, and not enough grazing, left inside the old fortress for two such large armies, and no desire from either to be setting up camp in close proximity, by sunset our warriors had moved their entire camp outside the grassy banks to the south of the fort. Cadwy’s men, out of sight but not out of mind, established their own camp to the north. The two armies’ trust in each other seemed as nebulous as the clouds massing overhead.
I was busy laying out our bedrolls when Arthur came striding back from the newly set up horse lines, helmet tucked under one arm, saddle wedged against his hip. Merlin and Cei hurried in his wake.
Setting his saddle on the grass, Arthur turned to Cei. “We’d best post extra guards along the run of the fort’s banks. We may ostensibly be allies, but it doesn’t do to place too much trust in Cadwy’s better nature.”
Hooray. Exactly what I’d been thinking.
“Already taken care of, Brother. But what better nature would that be, then?” Cei grinned, teeth flashing in the gathering twilight.
A snort of laughter came from Bedwyr, who’d also been sorting out his sleeping place. “I’d as soon trust a nest of vipers.”
Gwalchmei put down the lyre he’d been nursing like a baby. “That goes for me, too.”
Arthur gave a dismissive shrug. “He came, didn’t he? A mistake to underestimate Cadwy and his intentions. He might have Saxon foederati in his ranks and a Saxon mother, but that doesn’t mean he’d side with invaders.”
“And what about Cerdic?” Cei grunted. “He has fewer miles to travel, and yet we’ve seen neither sight nor sound of him. D’you think he’s already decided his own Saxon blood puts him on their side?”
“Let’s eat,” Merlin said, dropping to where I’d spread his blankets near to mine and Arthur’s. “We need food inside us for what’s coming.”
Did he possess some foreknowledge of what was coming? I could never tell if he just suspected the future or had actually seen it. Might he know more than he let on? Often?
Arthur sat down, and Bedwyr took bread and cheese and smoked meat out of a bag, and uncorked a bottle of olive oil.
I sat beside my husband and broke off a hunk of the bread– hard and dry by now, but dipping it in the olive oil would soften it nicely and make it more palatable.
Arthur sliced off a hunk of cheese and passed it over. A skin of cider made the rounds, and I leaned in closer to him, trying not to think about what the next day might bring, as his arm slipped around my shoulders.
As the sky and landscape darkened, those men not on guard duty did the same as us, and overhead, the clouds kept on massing, obscuring the stars. Somewhere, a voice rose in song; a melancholy air not guaranteed to raise the spirits.
The singer had just begun a second song, more cheerful this time, when Llacheu arrived, face alight with excitement. “Father, Anwyll sent me.” He made a hurried bow.
Arthur removed the arm he’d draped around my shoulders, straightening. “What for?”
