Page 99 of The Road to Avalon
Embarrassed at my own inadequacy, I clasped my hands together in an effort to still their trembling, my heart thundering in overtime as I prayed we were doing the right thing.
Bedwyr had me put pressure on the gaping wound in Arthur’s shin, from which the bones had protruded, while he fixed a dressing over it. By the time we’d done all that, a wagon from the village was trundling across the plain toward us, drawn by two sturdy cobs.
The driver’s horses, more used to agricultural tasks, balked at the stink of charnel house, and he couldn’t force them any closer than thirty yards. As they ground to a wary halt, eyes rolling and nostrils flared, a woman leapt down from the back and raced across the short grass. Her hair flew loose behind her, and her eyes stretched wide with mad emotion.
“Where is he?” she screamed as she ran. “What have you done with my son?”
Theodoric, solid as an oak, caught Morgawse in his arms and held her tight. She battered at his body like the madwoman she looked, legs and arms flailing, mouth wide in breathless screams of animal fear.
“Where’s my boy? Where is he?” Her cries rent the sky and sent the buzzards flapping away in alarm.
I shut out Theodoric’s answer. I couldn’t speak to her, or I’d have to tell her how glad I was I’d killed him. That I’d done it, and I wished I’d done it sooner. But he didn’t matter. Nothing did but Arthur. He was all I had left.
Her screams morphed into a banshee wailing, high and piteous and wild. She’d found his body. Beyond her, other women and girls poured down from the fortress to find their menfolk– alive or dead. Like hopeful ants they streamed down onto the plain alongside our craftsmen, laborers and servants.
Bedwyr caught Llawfrodedd by the arm. “Go and fetch the stretcher. Take someone with you. Quickly.”
“I’ll go,” Cei said, getting to his feet. He had the look of a man who needed something tangible to do.
The stretcher turned out to be a narrow wooden door. Llawfrodedd and Cei set it on the ground beside Arthur, then, with Bedwyr’s help, they lifted him onto it as gently as they could, while I kept a close eye on his leg. If the bones moved again, they could cut off the circulation to his foot. His head lolled to one side, a trickle of frightening blood running from the corner of his mouth, and one hand hung off the edge.
I lifted his hand and rested it across his stomach, careful not to touch his chest and broken ribs lest I made them worse.He couldn’t die. He couldn’t. But God, he looked dead already.
Now he was on the stretcher my racing heartrate began to settle and common sense took over. “Tie him down. I don’t want him to be able to move and do further damage.”
Under my instructions, they tied him across the waist and legs. Then, with gentle care, they carried the pallet to our makeshift ambulance and slid it onto the wagon bed, trying hard not to jolt him.
With reverence, Llawfrodedd placed Excalibur and Arthur’s helmet beside him, and we covered him in blankets. My old first aid training came creeping back– I needed to keep him warm in case of shock. Shock after something like this could kill all by itself.
I climbed in beside him and looked at his pale and clammy face and the purple bruises shadowing his eyelids. Bloody bandages bound his leg and arm, and the rise and fall of his chest seemed scarcely perceptible. Could we do this? Could we get him there in time? We had to.
I swallowed down my fear. “Now, let’s get him to Ynys Witrin,” I said to Bedwyr, with a lot more confidence than I felt.
By Medraut’s body, Theodoric had gone down on his knees beside his wailing wife, her keening cry still tearing the air. I’d blocked it out but now the sound came hurtling back into my head, loud and insistent. Someone needed to shut her up.
Cei climbed into the wagon beside me. “I’m coming with you.”
I met his eyes. “What about Coventina? She’ll be anxious for your safety. And this…” I waved a hand at the chaos of the battlefield.
He shook his head. “Theodoric can take care of this. And someone will tell her I’m alive. Arthur’s my brother. I’m coming.” He beckoned to a group of still mounted warriors. “This way. We’ll need an armed escort.”
His gaze returned to me. “I have to be with him… if he…” The words remained unsaid as his voice trailed off.
I stared into his anguished blue eyes. Had it been worth it? With all these men lying dead, had any of it really been worth it? What did we have to show for this? A kingdom riven in two. A generation of warriors dead. A dying king.
“I’ll come with you, as well,” Llawfrodedd said, and leapt up onto the seat beside the driver.
Bedwyr scrambled into the back of the wagon with me and Cei. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
I didn’t argue. It felt right to have them all with us. At the end…
The driver clicked to his horses and cracked his whip. They moved off with their precious load. Our warriors fell in as a silent, subdued escort.
The wagon shook too much. Never before had the ground felt more uneven and bumpy. The old wooden door serving as Arthur’s stretcher rattled and shook. I had to hold his head still with my hands on either side of his face, my fingers touching the soft hair of his too-long beard and the cold, clammy dampness of his skin. He didn’t stir, but remained unconscious and hopefully oblivious to the pain.
Time ticked past. Every minute lasted forever. I could have ridden to the Lake Village in less than two hours, but this wagon moved slower than a snail. If I’d had a watch, I’d have been checking it constantly. I moved my fingers to Arthur’s throat to feel for his pulse, terrified of finding it gone. Was it thready and faint, or was I just no good at finding it?
“Why is it taking so long?” I asked Cei, sitting pressed up against Arthur’s side to prevent his body moving. “Are we even going the right way?”
