King of the Middle March (28 page)

T
HEY CANNOT WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE. THEY'RE LIKE
blind men. Or drunkards.

Sir Bedivere has a hand under King Arthur's left arm, and Sir Lucan under the king's right arm, and the three of them keep staggering sideways. They cannot go much farther.

Now Sir Lucan gasps and lets go of the king; he totters. He's made such an effort that he's forced part of his gut through the wound in his stomach. Sir Lucan moans and falls.

“My brother!” cries Sir Bedivere.

“His need was greater than mine,” the king says, “but he was so brave, he still tried to support me. May Jesus open His arms and welcome him.”

“Amen!” Sir Bedivere says.

“I cannot stand,” says the king. “My head is spinning.”

Sir Bedivere helps Arthur-in-the-stone to sit on a sheep-run. The greatest of kings in the dirt and dust.

“Bedivere,” says the king, “take my sword. Take Excalibur down to the shore and throw it into the water. Then come back here at once and tell me what you saw.”

“My lord,” Sir Bedivere says.

“Be quick!” the king tells him. “There's so little time.”

Sir Bedivere takes Excalibur, and as he limps down to the shore, he looks at it closely.

“The pommel and the grip: inlaid with precious stones,” he says. “Nothing good can come of throwing this sword into the water—only waste, only loss.”

Sir Bedivere hides Excalibur under a twisted hawthorn tree and wearily walks back to the king.

“What did you see?” asks the king.

“See? Nothing, sire. Nothing but waves and wind.”

“You're lying, man,” the king says. “You didn't throw the sword into the water. Go down again, be quick. If you care for me, throw it in!”

Sir Bedivere walks down to the hawthorn tree. He pulls out Excalibur, and stares at it.

“I cannot!” he says. “No! I cannot. It would be a sin to throw away this noble sword.”

Sir Bedivere hides the sword again, and toils back to the king.

“Have you thrown it in?” the king demands.

“I have, sire.”

“What did you see?”

“Sire, nothing but water lapping, and overlapping, waves darkening.”

“You traitor!” gasps the king. “You've betrayed me twice. Who would have thought the man, the noble knight who has been so loyal to me, would betray me for a few precious stones? Go down again, be quick.”

“Sire.”

“You've endangered my life; my head wound has gone cold. Unless you do as I order you, here and now, I'll wring your neck with my own hands.”

Sir Bedivere hobbles down to the hawthorn tree, and pulls out Excalibur. He crosses the foreshore, and stands on the shinglebank, and now he hurls the sword as far as he can into the water.…

“What did you see?” asks the king.

“A hand rose from the water, a hand and then an arm dressed in white samite,” Sir Bedivere replies, “and the hand reached for the sword, and caught it by the crossguards, and shook it three times, and brandished it. Then the arm and the hand and the sword vanished into the water.”

“Help me now!” King Arthur whispers. “Down to the water! I fear I may have delayed too long.”

A
RTHUR!” YELLED SIAN
.

She rushed across the hall, and threw herself at me, and hugged me.

Tempest and Storm followed on her heels. They jumped up, barking, and Tempest licked my face.

“Father!” cried Sian. “It's Arthur!”

“Are you quite sure?” Sir John said, smiling.

I bowed slightly. Then we too embraced.

“We've been expecting you,” he said. “Lady Alice sent a message.”

“She's told you,” I said.

“Verdon first. Quite right.”

“No, sir.”

“Oh! About my brother, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“Yes! Yes, she did.” Sir John frowned. “Come on, now! You've scarcely crossed the threshold, and Lady Helen will never forgive me if I don't tell her you've arrived. We thought you'd ride over today.”

“Is this the sword Milon gave you?” Sian asked.

“How did you know?”

“Tanwen told us,” said Sian.

“Tanwen! Is she here?”

Sir John nodded. “Where she began,” he said.

“Lady Judith's still angry with her.”

“So I should think,” said Sir John. “Walking out without a word.”

“Can I see the blade?” asked Sian.

“Anyhow,” said Sir John, “it suits Lady Helen, having Kester here. She sings him Welsh songs, and trots him on her knee and tells him he's on his way to Ludlow Fair. I can't think why but she likes the grubby beast.”

“He's so little,” said Sian.

“Exactly!” Sir John replied.

“Where is Lady Helen, sir?” I asked.

“Sian!”

Sian groaned. “Do I have to?” she asked.

“Go on!” said Sir John. “Go and find your mother.”

“I won't be long, Arthur,” Sian called out. “Can I cut something with it?”

I prowled around the hall.…

Gatty's face when she tasted blood-pudding…Oliver sticking our snails to the wall, and saying their slime would tell us who we're going to marry…my new bow shining in the candlelight…and King John's messenger, the one who kept moaning and clutching his stomach and saying “God's guts!”…and the fiddler's daughter singing in a piercing voice:

“Love without heartache, love without fear
Is day without sunlight, hive without honey.

Dulcis amor!”

When Lady Helen hurried in, she embraced me and rubbed my cheeks, and told off Sian and Tempest and Storm for getting in our way, and railed at Sir John for not offering me almond-milk or ale, and stamped on a beetle—all at the same time!

“Can I see the blade?” said Sian.

“Not inside the hall,” Sir John said. “Not bare steel. You know that.”

“You wait your turn, young lady,” Lady Helen said.

“I have,” said Sian.

“Here's Arthur,” said Lady Helen, “and you want to take him away again.”

We sat around the dozy fire on handsome new blocks of wood, rounded at the corners, shaved along the edges.

“One of the oaks came down,” Sir John said. “Right across the Lark. Brian and Macsen took a whole month to chop it up.”

“I walked along the trunk,” Sian said.

Lady Helen clicked her tongue. “Kester fell off. He caught his toe in a woodpecker's hole. I keep telling that girl, she should look after him.”

“I got right across the stream,” said Sian.

“Across, yes,” Sir John said slowly. “Between life and death. Now we want to hear everything, Arthur. Especially about Serle. But first—”

“Nain!” Lady Helen said. “She died last October.”

I crossed myself. “God will welcome her,” I said. “He'll be glad of her!”

“Amen,” said Sir John.

“She was seventy-three,” Lady Helen told me.

“Maybe,” said Sir John. “Sometimes she added years and sometimes took them away. She didn't really know.”

“I know she was married to the dragon,” I said, grinning, “and I once made a song about Nain wearing armor:

“And her mail-shirt's strapped to her neck flap,
And her neck flap's fastened to her helmet,
And her helmet's bolted to her nasal…”

Lady Helen looked at me, bright-eyed.

“…and she told us wonderful stories, like the one about poor Gweno being thwacked by the dead man, and the great king sleeping inside the hill.…I'll never forget that one. Nain asked me what the wind said, and told me to honor the power in each and every thing, and I wish I could remember every word she said.”

“God bless you, Arthur!” cried Lady Helen.

“Nain, and now my brother,” Sir John said in a somber voice. “May God grant him peace! You'd better tell us what happened.”

So I did. I told them everything. It wasn't quite as difficult as telling Lady Alice and Lady Judith.

“He didn't expect to come back,” Sir John said. “He wasn't as old as Nain, but he—”

“He was the oldest in the whole army,” I interrupted.

“But!” Sir John said firmly. “As I was about to say, he was creaking and aching. He told me this would be his last journey.”

“In that case,” I said, “I wish he'd agreed everything with Sir Walter first.”

“I think he wanted to,” Sir John said.

“I don't,” I said.

Sir John gave me a long look. “I see,” he said slowly. “Well, we can't pretend Sir William led a godly life. Far from it. We know all about that.”

“About what?” demanded Sian.

“But whatever he did or didn't do can't be changed now. And you, Arthur, you inherit Catmole.”

“Tell us about Serle,” Lady Helen said.

“Well!” I said, and I took a deep breath. “He's healthy. He wanted me to tell you that. He was very brave and stood up for a Venetian girl against dozens of angry sailors. He asked me to tell you he keeps thinking of home, and when he closes his eyes he often sees the winter wheat growing.”

“He said that?” Lady Helen exclaimed.

“Yes.”

“Gogoniant!”

“Milon de Provins has taken him into his camp,” I told them. “Serle really likes the crusade.”

“But you didn't,” said Sir John.

“I liked the riding, the sea journeys, the companionship,” I said. “Warfare numbs people and sets comrades at each other's throats but it also brings them together. Serle's happy. Well, almost!”

Sir John nodded and smiled.

“He's going to look after Bonamy for me.”

“Ah yes!” said Sir John. “Bonamy.”

“Your gift to me,” I said. “My heaven-leaper! My loyal, lasting friend. Milon's promised to bring him back.”

“What about Tanwen and Kester?” Lady Helen asked.

“Serle often thought and talked about them,” I said. “He's sent Kester a present.”

“Serle!” cried Lady Helen.

“I think he wants you to be hopeful,” I said carefully. “That's what he is himself.”

“How long will he be away?” Sir John asked.

“There are so many difficulties. I don't know. It could be three years.”

“Three whole years!” exclaimed Sian.

“There's so much I want to ask you,” I said. “And I want to see everyone. Everyone!”

Lady Helen gave a little cry. “Arthur!” she sang in her lilting Welsh voice. “You haven't changed.”

I have, though.

“We'll ask everyone to come up here tomorrow and break their fast with us,” Sir John said, smiling. “Most irregular! It's not even a feast day.”

“It is!” protested Lady Helen. “The feast of Saint Gwyddelan.”

“Ah yes!” said Sir John.

“And Saint Llwchaiarn!”

“Ha! You're in luck, Arthur. Two dismal Welsh saints with unpronounceable names!”

Lady Helen waved her right fist in front of Sir John's face. “You…Englishman!” she cried. “The dragon dropped a cursingpebble into Saint Llwchaiarn's well.”

“And he drank the blood of Englishmen,” said Sir John, smiling.

“Drink!” cried Lady Helen, leaping up. “You never offered
Arthur anything, and now I haven't either. Come on, Sian! Come and get something. We must ask Slim to bake for tomorrow morning, and carve collops.”

“With Arthur's sword,” Sian said enthusiastically.

Lady Helen was already at the door. “Sian!” she demanded. “Are you coming?”

I grinned at Sir John. It felt so comfortable to be sitting in the hall. Home at Caldicot, where I know everyone and everyone knows me.

Sir John read my thoughts. “Away from home,” he said. “Always on duty. Facing horrors. Facing yourself. So much depending on you. You must be very tired.”

I yawned.

“What the French say is
reculer pour mieux sauter,
” Sir John told me. “To draw back so as to jump farther. That's what you need to do. Rest!”

“Do you remember Merlin jumping farther?” I asked.

“Who could forget it? The most extraordinary thing I've ever seen.”

“I do wish we could see Merlin again,” I said.

“So do I,” said Sir John. “It's almost three years now since he went away.” He shook his head. “I can't understand it.”

“And I still can't believe I won't see him again,” I replied.

“Ah yes!” Sir John said. “There is one thing you should know.”

“Sir?”

“Gatty.”

“What about her, sir?”

“You know Hum died?”

“Tanwen told us.”

“And not long after that, Gatty's grandmother died.”

“Poor Gatty!”

“Mmm!” Sir John said. He pursed his lips. “There's something about that girl.”

“Sir?”

“You know Oliver took her over to Holt, and Lord Stephen's musician listened to her voice.”

“Yes, Rahere! He told me.”

“What did he say?”

“If all the Christians and Saracens in the world could hear her, they wouldn't want to fight any longer.”

“I know about you two. When she was in trouble, you spoke up for her; and she walked over to Holt to see you, and got lost, and slept in a tree; and then you sneaked off to Ludlow Fair. You're right, of course. Gatty's brave, and resourceful…and helpless.”

“Sir?”

“So I decided to help her.”

“How, sir?”

“It's unusual, I know. Each of us has our own place and duty. However, a good knight should never be unbending; he must respond to circumstance.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I did think of putting Gatty into a nunnery,” Sir John said. “After all, she can never marry Jankin—not after Lankin wrecked her father's funeral.”

“But you didn't?” I asked.

“Too expensive!” Sir John replied. “The holy women ask an
unholy price. I was disappointed, because Gatty could have given her voice to God. But then Dame Fortune winked at us!”

“Sir?”

“Lady Helen has a cousin up near Chester, Lady Gwyneth of Ewloe. The daughter of one of the dragon's sisters.” Sir John rubbed his nose. “She's a widow. Helen rode up to see her and discovered she was looking for a new chamber-servant.”

“Not Gatty!”

“That's what I thought. But then I asked myself: Why not? Gatty can learn.”

“You mean she's not here?”

Sir John sniffed. “Don't look so alarmed. I thought you'd be glad. Think, Arthur! Think what an opportunity this is for her.”

“Gatty's not here?” I said again.

“I've never done anything like this for anyone else,” Sir John told me. “But…Gatty's a most unusual creature.”

“I'll go and see her,” I said.

Sir John drew in his breath. “I don't know about that.”

“I must.”

“I understand,” Sir John said, “but Lady Gwyneth has left on a pilgrimage. She's taken Gatty with her.”

“Where to?”

Sir John looked me straight in the eye. “Jerusalem,” he said.

The fire fell into itself, and a wisp of grey smoke curled out of it. I felt so tired.

“You must go and talk to Oliver,” Sir John said.

“Gatty had no idea when you'd be coming back, of course, but I believe she left some kind of message for you.”