Page 77 of The Quest for Excalibur
That over, and scratching a scalp made itchy through a pressing need to be washed, I went in search of my husband. No sign of him, nor Cei, but I came upon Merlin by the rows of tethered horses. Most of them stood with a back leg crooked and heads down, sleeping as the sun rose higher and warmed their backs. Perhaps somewhere to the east it was already shining on the ranks of our approaching enemy. Alezan pricked her ears when she spotted me, and a throaty nicker rumbled from her throat.
I gave her the nub of hard black bread I’d kept in my pocket from last night, and her soft nose nuzzled it from my outstretched palm with relish. Which was more than I felt for it. That longing for food I could never have resurfaced at the thought of what awaited me instead.
“Not hungry?” Merlin asked, running his hand along his mare’s back. Like any horseman the world over, he would be checking for lumps, sore spots or rubbed areas. A horse’s back is vulnerable, and without a good back, as without good feet, the horse is lost. And the warrior must walk and fight on foot, like a Saxon.
I shook my head. “I have an unbearable longing for something hot.”
He laughed. “Same here. One of the problems of campaigning is the lack of good food. Or rather, the same cold food over and over again until it’s stale and moldy.”
I ran my hand down Alezan’s forehead and rubbed her nose, feeling the downiness of her growing winter coat. She lipped at my hand, probably hoping for some other tidbit. “Do you know where Arthur is?”
He jerked his head eastward. “Ridden out before first light to take a second look at the lie of the land, now we’re sure of our reinforcements.”
“Sure of them? Has Cerdic arrived?” I scanned the camp in hope of seeing strange warriors, but nothing had changed. Just clusters of our own warriors grouped as though they had fires to gather around, talking together in low voices. Some in the horse lines like us, brushing down their mounts.
Merlin shook his head. “Not yet. Give him time. I think he’ll come.”
Well, if Merlin thought he would, that was good enough for me.
I peered eastward myself, but from where I stood, only the brow of the hill showed against the skyline, dotted with a few stunted hawthorn bushes. “Who did Arthur go with?”
Merlin wrinkled his nose. “With ten of our men and ten of Cadwy’s– and Cadwy himself. He wanted to see the land he’s to be fighting on. Understandable, I suppose.”
My heart gave a lurch of uncertainty. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to trust Cadwy, and the thought of Arthur riding off with him sent a shiver down my back that I couldn’t disguise. Even if he did have ten of his own men with him.
Merlin must have noticed. “Don’t worry. I see no danger in him doing that.”
I forced a smile. “I would have liked to have gone with them. The better to be able to describe it in my book.”
He turned away from his horse, one hand still resting on its quarters. “I’ve seen no danger for him with Cadwy, and I’ve seen the Saxons drawing close now. But youknow, don’t you?” He fixed me with a penetrating stare. “You know about this battle. What does your future tell us about it?”
Damn him.
I rubbed Alezan’s long ears, soft between my fingers. “Nothing. That’s the trouble. Nothing at all except idle gossip and romantic invention.”
He raised his eyebrows, waiting.
“All right. That Arthur slew nine-hundred-and-sixty men all by himself in the battle.” I laughed. “An impossible feat.”
Merlin eyed me speculatively for a long moment before nodding gravely. “Indeed. I hope that even with two armies, the Saxons won’t have that many men at their disposal.” He glanced at our own men. “Let’s hope not, anyway.”
*
Arthur and Cadwyreturned at a gallop halfway through a morning that had been growing steadily more overcast as heavy dark clouds massed in the west. Shouts went up from our lookouts to warn us, and a moment later the bunch of horsemen broached the rise, their horses’ hooves kicking a shower of clods of dirt up behind them.
Half veered off to the far side of the hillfort, Cadwy at their head, while Arthur and his warriors galloped into the center of our camp. Over in the horse lines every single mount swung round on their tether, heads up, ears pricked, sensing the excitement of their fellows and quivering like bowstrings.
Even as he wrenched his horse to a standstill, Arthur was shouting to our men. “To horse. All of you. Saxon horde sighted coming up from the River Kennet. They may be on foot, but we’ve not a moment to spare.”
I’d been grooming Alezan, something both she and I enjoyed, and that I’d hoped would steady my nerves. I dropped my brush and ran to where my belongings lay. All around me, men rushed in every direction, pulling on mailshirts, grabbing saddles and hurrying to their horses. Ordered chaos reigned. Everyone knew what they were doing, even me.
I wriggled into my mailshirt as quickly as possible and fastened my sword belt around my waist, having to concentrate to steady the shake that had taken my fingers. To my right, I spotted Llacheu stringing his bow, and with a lurch of fear remembered his planned role. He slung his full quiver over his shoulder and heaved his saddle up, his eyes meeting mine.
I took a moment to stare, taking in everything about him from his close-cropped head down to his booted feet. Was I afraid I’d never see him alive again? An icy shiver ran down my spine.
He grinned. Every inch a warrior, but still with the frank eyes of the boy I loved. Eyes not unlike those of his cousin Rhiwallon.
My fear rose like a sickness in my belly. I swallowed bile, pushing thoughts of dead Rhiwallon out of my head with difficulty. This was not some exercise. This was war, and Llacheu had the role of cannon fodder, even in the days before the invention of such a weapon. “Take care,” I gasped, finding it hard to catch my breath. “Don’t play the hero. Promise me. Don’t get too close.”
