Hawk of May (32 page)

I went down on one knee to him. “My lord, I…I could not have guessed such a thing. I do not understand why you did not send me away forcibly; especially after I had divided the Family, and killed, and made your victories bitter for you. Forgive me, I…”

“Forgive you? It is I who need forgiveness. Stand up. In God's name, stand. Now…” he too stood again. “I should have seen months ago that you were not what I thought you to be. You endured everything which the war and I together could throw at you and did not complain. And you worked as a surgeon. I knew nothing about that until Gruffydd told me, and shouted at me for being unjust to you. He thinks very highly of you.” I stared at the king, startled. Of course. He was always busy the day after a battle, but saw the wounded in the night, when I was sleeping off the madness. “I should have seen enough, over the months you followed me, to make me realize; and I should have trusted Bedwyr's judgement, since I knew myself to be bound by the Darkness. But I persisted in wronging you. And then, last night, you said that you left so as not to divide the Family, and spoke as though you meant it. I told myself you did it only for pride, but I could not convince myself. I knew, definitely knew then, that I was wrong; and yet I could not bring myself to admit it to myself. I could have argued myself out of it, but then, that woman…”

“What?”

“The woman with the husband who died. A noble, honorable woman, but low-born, not rich or powerful. No one who obeyed the Darkness would have looked at her twice, but you went out of your way on a cold night with a wound which must have been troubling you, to help a man whom you did not know and who could not be helped.”

“I did not know he was so badly wounded when I went.”

“Yet when you did know, you still tried to help. There would be no advantage from it for you, nothing to gain. It was pointless, but honorable and compassionate. There could be no doubt, after that. You were what you had claimed to be all along, and I had played the part of a fool and a tyrant.”

He walked over to me and laid one hand on my shoulder, “I have said that I am sorry for it, and say it now again. Perhaps you no longer desire a place in my service. Yet I think, now that you have offered to go, there would be no further division when I asked you to remain. And you have disarmed Cei very thoroughly.” He grinned suddenly, if rather shakily, something of the light coming back into his face. “Insults he can cope with, but not being told that he is noble and courageous. I think he hopes that no one will find that out, if he is quarrelsome enough.” He became serious again. “Thus, if you should still desire to stay…” he sought for the word. “There is work enough and more than enough, and I would be very glad of you.”

I was silent a moment, and Arthur watched me steadily, half-challenging, half-hoping, his hand still on my shoulder, almost testing.

“My lord,” I said at last, “if someone should offer you Britain, with the Empire restored, and all Erin and Caledon and Less Britain besides, and the roads open to Rome—would you accept it?”

He grinned slowly, then embraced me, clumsily, still almost testing, but I realized that it was not me he was testing now but himself. I returned the embrace, then knelt and kissed his hand, the signet ring he wore on his finger.

“My lord,” I said, “I have desired to fight for you, for long and long, since I knew that you fight for the Light, and it would be better to die fighting against the Darkness than to live long winning victories to no purpose. How could I wish for more than this? From now on it will be victories only.”

“God willing, even so, for I think we have had victories of a sort already. Come.” He helped me to my feet, embraced me again, then walked rapidly from the tent.

The others were still waiting by Ceincaled and the laden pack-mare, discussing something which they refrained from abruptly when they saw Arthur and me coming. Arthur stopped, surveyed the horses, then announced calmly, “You can see that they are unloaded again. Gwalchmai ap Lot has agreed to stay, and to swear the oath to me, at my urging.”

Agravain looked at Cei, then at Bedwyr, then at me. I nodded. He gave a whoop of delight.
“Laus
Deo
,
by the sun!” He embraced me, pounding me on the back, “I understand nothing of all this—you change your mind; Arthur changes his; you change yours—but I like it this way, so long as you do not begin it
again,” he said, in Irish. “And now, indeed, we have won,” he added, in British, letting me go and glaring at Cei.

Cei shrugged, eyeing me; then, suddenly smiled. “It is good news. You are a very devil of a fighter, cousin.”

Bedwyr looked from me to Arthur, then, when Arthur also nodded, he smiled slowly, “I am glad.”

“Very good,” said Arthur drily. “I am glad my decision meets with your approval. You three can be witnesses. Call the rest, and we will swear the oaths now.”

It was still cold, and the wind sent the clouds scudding across the dark sky, and whispered in the bare branches of the trees. The Family was a splash of color and light on the barren landscape, gathered about in a circle to watch and bear witness. Arthur stood before his tent, tall and straight, the wind tugging at his purple cloak. Bedwyr stood on his right, Cei on his left with Agravain beside him. I stared at the picture, wishing to hold it for ever, then dropped to one knee, drawing Caledvwlch.

“I, Gwalchmai, son of Lot of Orcade, do now swear to follow the lord Arthur, emperor of the Britains, dragon of the island; to fight at his will against all his enemies, to hold with him and obey him at all times and places. My sword is his sword until death. This I swear in the name of Father, Son, and Spirit, and if I fail of my oath may the earth open and swallow me, the sky break and fall on me, the sea rise and drown me. So be it.”

Arthur reached out his hand for the sword, and I suddenly remembered.

“My lord,” I began, “the sword cannot…”

He ignored me and caught the hilt from my hand, lifting the weapon. The lightning did not spring from it against him as it had against Cei. Instead the radiance lit it, growing greater and whiter until it seemed that Arthur held a star. And he said, “And I, Arthur, emperor of the Britains, do now swear to support Gwalchmai son of Lot, in arms and in goods, faithfully in honor, in all times and places until death. This I swear in the name of Father, Son, and Spirit, and if I fail of my oath, may the earth open and swallow me, the sky break and fall on me, the sea rise and drown me. And I swear to use this sword, of Light, in Light, to work Light upon this realm, so help me God.”

The radiance faded from the sword as he returned it to me. I stood, sheathing it.

“Witnessed?” asked my lord Arthur.

“Witnessed,” said Cei, Bedwyr, and Agravain. And then Agravain stepped forward with a wide grin, shouting in Irish, “And now it is truly done, and you have won! Och, my brother, I swear the oath of my people I am glad!”

The rest of the Family was not far behind.

Gillian Bradshaw was born in Falls Church, Virginia, and graduated from the University of Michigan, where she won the Hopwood Award for
Hawk of May
. She is the author of twenty-five other novels.