Page 53 of The Road to Avalon
With the noise of our arrival, we had no need to wake the town with our demands. Doors opened and sleepy faces poked out. Curious expressions turned to fear. We must have looked a fearsome bunch, despite our small number– all of us fully armed, and with our dirty, exhausted faces.
“Fetch out your horses,” Llawfrodedd shouted, standing in his stirrups. “Our journey is of the most urgent and the Queen has need of fresh mounts.”
I slid down from Enfys’s saddle, glad for the feel of sturdy cobbles under my feet. “And food,” I called, as I hung onto her saddle horns in an effort to stay upright on my wobbly legs. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me. I couldn’t let it.
One thing you could say about the people of the Dark Ages was that they were well accustomed to obeying orders. None of them retreated inside and barred their doors. Instead, men shouted to their wives or servants and in a matter of minutes food appeared– just simple fare of bread and cheese and sweet cider, but better than any feast in a king’s hall.
The headman of the town, a sturdy, red-faced fellow in just his undershirt and braccae, stepped forward and made a deep bow as I tore into my bread with ravenous hunger.
I took a gulp of the cider from the horn beaker someone had given me, the alcoholic sweetness revitalizing my exhausted body, and returned his bow. “We’re looking for the army of the High King, my husband,” I said, and wiped my mouth on my sleeve. “Have you seen him pass? He has a force of forty warriors with him. It’s vital that we find him. We’ve ridden all night for this very reason.”
The man must have been able to see the desperation in my eyes. He shifted as though uncomfortable, and his eyes slid to Llawfrodedd by my side, most likely more at ease with dealing with a man. He was going to have to rethink his behavior.
“Well?” I said, impatience gnawing at me. “Have you seen him pass through your town, or heard of anyone that’s seen him?”
Llawfrodedd gave him a curt nod. “Go on. Tell the Queen what you know and hurry up about it.”
I drained the beaker of cider and held it out for more.
The headman’s gaze returned to my face, and he gave his scanty forelock a respectful tug, clearly resigning himself to having to speak to a woman. “Milady. Only yesterday an army like you describe were seen to the north, toward Caer Guorthegirn, by a farmer what come to town with two o’ his fat lambs to sell.”
Oh, God, no. He’d been here a day already. A full day ahead of us. My heart did a flip, and I had to reach out a hand to Llawfrodedd for support. “Which way were they going?” My voice came hoarse and edged with the terror rampaging through me.
The headman shrugged his burly shoulders, screwing up his face. “I couldn’t rightly say, seeing as it weren’t me what saw them. And that farmer went back home after he’d sold his lambs. So he ain’t here to tell you what he saw.” He had the grace to sound apologetic.
I swallowed down the last lump of bread, no longer hungry. “We have to get to the fortress of Caer Guorthegirn this morning. He might already be there.” I looked imploringly at Llawfrodedd. “There’s no time to waste.”
“Only a few shepherds do live there now,” the headman said, face puzzled. “That ain’t no place for a king, Milady. Not nowadays. He won’t ha’ bothered to go up there, I don’t doubt.”
But Merlin had seen Amhar there.
I shook my head, determined. “Nevertheless, that’s where we’re headed.” How hard it was to still the shaking in my voice.
Llawfrodedd turned back to the headman. “How many horses do you have?” His eyes scanned the crowd. “And we will need a guide to show us the way.”
The man shook his head in further apology. “A guide, yes, I c’n do that. But we don’t have no horses what’d suit you, Milord. This be a mining town, and the only horses here be for pullin’ wagons an’ plows. None as’d be fit for warriors like yourselves.”
“I don’t care,” I said, panic rising in me. “Fetch any horses you have. If they’re fresher than ours, we’ll take them.”
Quite a crowd had gathered by now, of people pulled early from their beds. In the chill, early-morning light, they huddled close together, muttering to one another in low voices, perhaps resentful that we wanted to take their only means of transport.
“Have no fear. You’ll get your horses back,” I said. “And be rewarded for your kindness. We’ll return for our own mounts and expect you to have taken good care of them for they’ve given us their all, and more. Fetch out your beasts and let me see them.”
I hadn’t thought they’d have enough to horse all of us, but they did. A motley collection of sturdy cobs and large ponies were fetched, and there in the little square we unsaddled our own horses in a hurry and saddled up these makeshift, workaday replacements.
A lanky young man leading a shaggy, flaxen-maned pony joined our new cavalry, his tow-colored hair hanging over his eyes like the overgrown forelock on his mount. He regarded his feet as the headman introduced him as our guide. “His own father do live up on that there hill with his sheep. He’ll see you there right well.”
I thanked the headman as the boy climbed onto his pony, his long, skinny legs dangling well below the animal’s girth.
“Look after our horses well, and expect no work from them,” Llawfrodedd warned the townspeople as we also mounted up. “These are your High King’s finest warhorses, and he expects the best of care for every one of them.”
Then, with the sun still low in the pale morning sky, we wheeled our cart nags around and trotted out of Blestium on the road north to Caer Guorthegirn, the silent, awkward boy at our head.
Our road followed the river, a wide and deceptively sluggish snake. On either side of it the high, forested hills rose to form the deep valley Merlin had described. We must be nearing the right place. Surely.
Our replacement horses weren’t as eager as fresh, fit cavalry horses would have been, no doubt having worked hard the day before, but after the leaden hoofs of our own mounts they seemed lively and willing.
A bare half hour brought us to where the river curved away from the road and the high hill of Caer Guorthegirn rose on the northern bank. Smoke curled up from the top in twists of dark ribbon, but nowhere did we catch any sight of Arthur and his men. Might that mean he didn’t know Amhar was there?
