The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) (26 page)

'No… Gerlois, please. Why keep Morgana with you? Let us rest here for the night, I beg of you, Gerlois…
Gerlois?
' She shouted this last as he wheeled his horse and the group of mounted warriors disappeared from sight amid a chorus of yells and shouts. Igraine watched as Morgana turned in the saddle, to look at her while clinging onto her father as they rode away. Then Igraine collapsed back down into the arms of her remaining two daughters and they sobbed together, the whole group of women and children crying as they slipped back out towards the sea.

'Why did he take Morgana, Mother?' asked Elaine. 'Why does she get to go with Father?'

'Hush Elaine, I'm sure your father has good reason to take Morgana with him.' She said this but knew that Gerlois had taken her daughter as another way of keeping her, his wife, docile and obedient. It was a harsh lesson, but surely he would care well for his own daughter… wouldn't he? 'Please,' Igraine found her voice as she noticed pity on the face of the boat master. 'Please allow us to put ashore and rest for the night. We can sail again at first light; we would not lose much time… we need to rest, can we?'

The old man shook his head sadly. 'Duc's orders, Lady. We are to take you to Tintagel making all haste and see you enter the fortress before dusk tomorrow. To do that we must sail through the night.' He glanced up at the cloudy sky and shook his head. 'It may rain, but there will be no storm. I have no reason to cross the Duc; I'm sorry to say. I see you have a powerful need to rest, but for now, this is the way of it, we sail.'

And so once more they put to sea. The women and children on board, gathering together to endure another winter's night, exposed and wet on an open deck, it would mark their fourth night at sea.

It did rain, soaking them all, chilling them even further if that was at all possible, as they clung to each other in a tight little group so that Igraine felt they might all die of exposure, but it didn't storm and by dawn the next day the rain had ceased.

'While you lot were still sleeping, at first light, we passed the Dumnonii trading settlement of Appledore, a pleasant place with a pleasant name, passing it already means that we're being carried by good winds and is proof that the Gods smile upon us.' The boat master appeared pleased as he said this, he passed around dry oatcakes taken from a greasy looking sack.

'If yer have a mind to, keep an eye down the coast and yer may shortly see the fortress of Tintagel coming into view.' Everyone turned to look, but there was little to see but grey water, a grey coast and an even greyer sky.

'For those of you who haven't seen Tintagel from this vantage, tis set upon an islet that juts out from the coast. Up upon its own little headland, so it is. The watchtowers are what you'll see first.' He turned away and went back to his business, minding the steering oar, gazing up at the big sail as he teased as much speed out of his vessel as he could. Without Gerlois on board, he was more relaxed with his charges, and the little group of women and children were able to stretch their legs and stand at the windward side of the boat to watch the coastline slip past, each eager to catch the first glimpse of the fortress.

'I'll be the one to see it first,' called Morgause running to the side of the boat. She crammed oatcakes into her mouth and pushed past her sister.

Igraine allowed herself to be drawn to the side of the boat by Elaine to see a distant sail. It was probably one of the vessels carrying tin for trade goods, its sail a dull brown smudge in an otherwise grey day. Igraine shivered and cast her eyes down the coast, but Tintagel was still nowhere to be seen.

It was past midday when Morgause gave a shout, saying she could see the towers of Tintagel in the misty distance. Everybody strained to see, but none save Morgause could make out anything, all but Igraine voiced their doubts. If Morgause had said she saw the towers, then Igraine knew she had seen them. The voyage would soon be over and rest not far away. She gripped the side of the boat, her nails digging into the wood, and stared along the coast until finally, she too saw the protruding headland, waves foaming white upon the rocks at the base of the cliffs, and knew they were almost there. Her thoughts turned for a moment to Morgana and hoped she wouldn't irritate her father too much. It scared her more than she cared to admit that her daughter was out of her sight and in the company of such a man as Gerlois, even if he was her father.

Maude crept silently along the reed-strewn passageway, moving from memory through the darker parts, ignoring the rustling and squeaking of the rats that she couldn't see, but was all too aware of their presence. She refrained from taking a candle of her own; wanting to be as silent and unseen as possible and moving about with her own light would have announced her presence to any of the nuns who might be up and moving about on their own nocturnal business. They kept strange times these nuns, even now in the darkest hours of the night they would all wake to attend prayers.

Reaching the part of the Abbey where she had hidden the growing pile of provisions, she pulled the bench carefully to the side to reveal the hidden stash and added a leather satchel. She scanned the darkness about her, listening intently until certain she was alone. The satchel contained a few coins from the bags the King had arrived with, his rings that she had managed to hide, and some documents she had found beside the cot. She hadn't quite known what to take, or what the King would need, but she was intent upon taking him away and knew she had little time to prepare. Warm clothes, some blankets… what else, where would she go?

Maude retraced her steps until she was close to the room where the nuns prepared their food and decided to see what she could find to bring the King. A low fire was burning in the hearth, the glow of a few bright embers enough to allow her to search the tables and boxes that she could see. There were plenty of vegetables and herbs hanging in bunches. She found a hunk of hard bread wrapped in a cloth and then when she took the lid from a pot she smiled as the aroma of barley pottage filled the air. She scooped some up with her fingers; it was still warm. Taking another mouthful, she replaced the lid and began to search for a bowl; tonight, the King would eat, and soon he would become strong again, and they would be leaving.

 Chapter 20 
Dead Echoes of Winter

As Duc Gerlois and his party were approaching the main gates, the first snowflakes of winter began to fall upon the Dumnonii settlement of Isca. Above the high walls of the fortress, constructed from huge tree trunks fitted tightly together with their bases buried deep in the earth, the dense grey clouds had begun to let go their burden as if they had swollen and held their load for as long as they possibly could, but the time had come when they must softly, and silently burst, to slowly release their burden.

Isca was one of the largest trading settlements within Britain. Within the walls were hundreds of roundhouses, huts and halls of many sizes and it teemed with merchant representatives from the many tribes of Britain and also from tribes across the sea who wished to trade with both Britons and the Saxon invaders. The main strength of Dumnonii and Cornovii warriors were camped here to offer protection for the trading settlement, its inhabitants and also for the travellers and merchants who journeyed upon the surrounding paths and roads. At its centre, a large market square dominated the settlement, as a place where goods and livestock that were brought from all over the Kingdom and from across the seas could be traded and sold to its multitude of visitors.

As the small band of horsemen clattered up the hill, a few solitary flakes floated down from the oppressive grey sky. Out of the corner of his eye, Gerlois noticed Morgana's little hand reaching out to catch them.

'Hold still girl, or you will fall just before we reach the town and embarrass me.' The hand was snatched back and he felt Morgana hold him tighter.

Other flakes were following the first few and the snow was increasing quickly, holding a promise that winter had arrived and that it would worsen severely before it was over and done.

During the night the temperature had dropped quickly. When just after first light the Duc and his men had awoken, they had emerged into a world without a breath of wind. It was deathly cold, painted white with frost, puddles covered in ice, bare trees hard and still as if frozen in place. Gerlois had smiled, his breath misting in the chill air. Winter was finally making itself known and this would only hamper the efforts of Uther, if and when he arrived with a mighty force of warriors. Gerlois knew that if the King could be held at arm's length between Isca and the fortress at Dimilioc until Beltane, then the Saxons would begin their raiding once more and his Dumnonii and Cornovii would be left in peace to fortify their borders and continue their trading while Uther returned to the conflict with the Saxons, if that is, he and his army hadn't starved or frozen to death in the meantime. Either a new peace with Uther Pendragon would be made this winter season, or the King would be forced to recognise these lands as a separate Kingdom.

Now at Isca, the snows of winter had begun and those first few snowflakes were quickly and silently filling the sky, settling in his horse's mane and on his beard so that it tickled his chin as it melted. It was already dusting the open, levelled land all around the settlement, turning pig runs and turnip fields into soft white, bringing beauty to what had been a stark muddy world moments before. This was no weather to make war, he kicked his horse into a trot and grinned at the thought of Uther Pendragon shivering, camped beneath a tree while he was warming himself by his fires eating goose, yes… that was it… he had an appetite for goose this cold winter's day.

'Make way for the Duc,' called his man, Peder, as they approached. Peder, an older man past his fortieth year, was in charge of fortifications and defences of all of the Duc's fortresses including the largest of Isca, Dimilioc, and of course Tintagel, he had been a faithful servant of the Duc for many years. With his hair and beard showing more grey than the glossy black he had been so proud of for years, he was fastidious in his dress sense seeking out the finest furs and fabrics that the traders brought from Gaul. It was often a point that his men found amusing but never mentioned within his hearing. He was a big man who carried his years well and was feared amongst his warriors as having a quick temper and excellent fighting skills. He had also been the warrior who had travelled to meet the Duc as his boat docked.

'I see the land has been cleared, prepared in case we are attacked,' called Gerlois to Peder. 'Did you have to remove many of the surrounding halls and dwellings?'

'A few, in fact, several, but now all the land around the settlement has been emptied for two hundred paces, my Lord Duc,' replied Peder. 'The area directly around the main gate was already clear of course, except for a few bushes and small trees between the fields that have now been removed, however, we were forced to do away with a number of huts and roundhouses close to the southern gate. Because of this, there were a number of unhappy merchants who lost property there, but they were assigned land within the walls and therefore gained by the action, so all ends well.'

As the two massive fortress gates swung inwards, twenty warriors ran out to line the road in honour of their returning Duc. As Gerlois and his retinue rode past he raised a hand in salute and then they were entering the settlement, the clattering of the horse's hooves echoing in the still air. Warriors came forward and held the horse's reins, as first Morgana dropped down, and then the Duc and his men dismounted. The horses were led away to be tied up, watered and fed, and as the gates were closed behind them, Gerlois smiled in satisfaction and sighed, finally feeling that the need to run had left him, he was safe… or at least safe enough until he decided to make his final move to Dimilioc and by then, time would have run out for Uther Pendragon. He turned to Peder.

'See to it that the sentries keep a good watch. There will be scouts coming soon, sent forward from Pendragon's warriors. I want to know when they are seen… and send out our own riders to get information on just where our King and his men have already reached on their march. They will be tired and cold and should have very little appetite for war.

'Yes, my Lord,' muttered Peder, 'we will soon know.'

'It appears that the weather is on our side,' said Gerlois, holding out his hand to catch a snowflake. 'With the grace of the spirits, we shall either have Uther Pendragon as our guest in a few days, having apologised for his treatment of me, or they will have retreated, back north, and will be more concerned with provisioning their people through the winter months and preparing for Saxon raids after the thaw.' Gerlois turned and began to walk towards his halls with Morgana skipping along at his side. There were two halls, built side by side, set in the main part of the fortress, close to the market square; he liked to be close to where the gold and silver changed hands and where he could entertain visiting merchants.

'My Lord,' called Peder, 'there is an envoy from the Veneti awaiting you. He arrived by boat from across the water several days ago and asks to be brought to you as soon as you arrive.'

'An opportune arrival,' Gerlois smiled and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a good trade deal. 'Send him to my hall; I shall await him there. Have a goose prepared and bring pots of their good Veneti wine and of course, Saxon ale. Uther Pendragon can wait, we have trade to discuss.'

They had thought they were already in the depths of winter, until the night when it really arrived. Only one day out from the relative comfort of their encampment at Gloucester, dark, ominous clouds began to gather overhead, and the temperature dropped along with the fading light.

'I don't much like the look of this, but 'tis too cold to snow.' Sir Ector pulled his furs around him and scowled up at the clouds.

'I wouldn't be too sure of that,' said Merlyn as he held out a hand to catch the solitary snowflake drifting down towards him. Other flakes were already appearing around them, and a disgruntled murmuring was moving up and down the line of marching warriors.

'We shall build our shelters this night within the forest,' said Uther. 'Like as not, it will be done by morning and we shall be able to move on. For now, let us prepare for the worst, make our shelters and put some hot food into our bellies.'

'To the trees and make camp,' called Sir Ector, and the word was repeated up and down the line. Chariots, carts, and horsemen began heading towards the trees with all the warriors on foot following behind. Sir Ector sent several warriors to set up guard points on a perimeter and others to scout the forest in the direction of Isca.

'Our scouts report that we are approximately two days march from the fortress of Isca.' Uther walked his horse closer to where Sir Ector and Merlyn rode. 'As they have already met with several of Gerlois warriors, we can assume that he is well warned of our approach. The gates will be closed to us. I would have your counsel as how best we can proceed.'

Merlyn turned in his saddle, to look at Uther, a bemused look upon his face. 'Now you wish our guidance, King Uther? Possibly it is a little late for us to add our counsel. What exactly is it that you wish to accomplish by bringing so many warriors half way across the Kingdom, in the dead of winter?' He took a look up towards the clouds, snowflakes catching in his beard. 'The Gods conspire against us for they are now sending us a full winter it seems.' The three riders reached the edge of the treeline and warriors took their horses as they dismounted. Fires were already being lit, the smell of smoke drifting around them promising an escape from the cold, and shelters were also hurriedly built, the sound of branches being cut echoing through the forest.

'I know that both of you, as well as many others, believe that this is a mistake born out of your King's infatuation with the Duc's wife, which is something that grieves me to be so misunderstood.' Uther ignored the raised eyebrow and amused smile upon Merlyn's face. 'There are two things that need to be accomplished by our intervention in the affairs of Duc Gerlois. Both the Cornovii and Dumnonii tribes are ruled over by the Duc. Combined, they are one of the richest tribes within our alliance. We cannot have them led by a man who is not a true member of our union, an honourable member of the round table. A man that at the moment, we cannot trust. Duc Gerlois must go down upon his knees to me, his King, pledge himself to our cause and take up the responsibility that his position dictates, or he must be replaced. If he is to be replaced, then it must be now, not later when all his misdeeds have become nothing more than old memory.' Uther looked into the eyes of his two friends, one after the other, seeking some understanding.

'I agree, King Uther,' said Sir Ector. 'The Duc is both infuriating and also untrustworthy, his conduct upon our quest was embarrassing, and he then offered great insult by not returning when you commanded; he must be brought to heel.' Uther smiled placing a hand upon his friend's shoulder, silently thanking him for his understanding.

'Pah!' Merlyn grinned and slapped his knees while Uther scowled across at him. 'We could have waited until spring, to march down here for that. The Duc will do little between now and then, a little trade maybe, that's what his greedy heart desires, but even trade is hard to accomplish in winter.' He waved his arm around at the cold, bleak woodland. 'The only reason that we have marched down here, and will spend most of the winter freezing our bottoms off in this forest, is that you have desires upon that girl.'

'Keep your voice down and control yourself.' Uther drew Merlyn over to a fire that had been lit for them and they sat together on a fallen log, holding their hands out to the flames while Sir Ector sat opposite them and frowned at Merlyn.

'It is fine, Uther. You are a King, and a King gets what a King wants, that is the way it should be. I am not going to argue the pointlessness of marching such a mighty host of warriors half the way around the world, in the middle of winter, to win your girl. It is a little late for that and, quite frankly, not my place to do so.'

'You have never been shy before about telling me what you think, certainly you have called me a fool many times. I'm sure you have your reasons why you are not berating me right now, but I don't care, because after the quest to Erin, which was also pointless and an incredible waste of time,' Uther held a hand up to Merlyn, as the Druid made to argue. 'After that, oh so noble, quest, we agreed that you were very much in my debt. You will soon be repaying that debt by helping me to bring the Duc to heel or Igraine back to Pendragon fortress.'