Warlord 2 Enemy of God (45 page)

I tensed, ready to charge, but then Merlin appeared behind Ceinwyn. His beard, I saw, was bound in plaits again, he carried his great staff and he stood straighter and grimmer than I had seen him stand in years. He placed his right arm about Ceinwyn’s shoulders. ‘Let the child go,’ he ordered. Lavaine shook his head. ‘We made a spell with your beard, old man, and you have no power over us. But tonight we shall have the pleasure of your conversation while our King has the pleasure of the Princess Ceinwyn. Both of you,’ he demanded, ‘come here.’

Merlin lifted the staff and pointed it at Lavaine. ‘At the next full moon,’ he said, ‘you will die beside the sea. You and your brother shall both die and your screams will journey the waves through all time. Let the child go.’

Nimue hissed softly behind me. She had plucked up my spear and lifted the leather patch from her ghastly empty eye-socket.

Lavaine was unmoved by Merlin’s prophecy. ‘At the next full moon,’ he said, ‘we shall boil your beard scraps in bull’s blood and give your soul to the worm of Annwn,’ he spat. ‘Both of you,’ he snapped, ‘come here.’

‘Release my daughter,’ Ceinwyn demanded.

‘When you reach me,’ Lavaine said, ‘she will be freed.’

There was a pause. Ceinwyn and Merlin spoke together softly. Morwenna cried out from inside the hall and Ceinwyn turned and spoke to her daughter, then she took Merlin’s hand and began to walk towards Lavaine. ‘Not like that, Lady,’ Lavaine called to her. ‘My Lord Lancelot demands that you come to him naked. My Lord will have you taken naked through the countryside and naked through the town and naked to his bed. You shamed him, Lady, and this night he will return his shame on you a hundredfold.’

Ceinwyn stopped and glared at him. But Lavaine simply pressed his sword blade against Dian’s throat, the child gasped with the pain, and Ceinwyn instinctively tore at the brooch that clasped her cloak and let the garment drop to reveal a simple white dress.

‘Take the gown off, Lady,’ Lavaine ordered her harshly, ‘take it off, or your daughter dies.’

I charged then. I screamed Bel’s name and I charged like a mad thing. My men came with me, and more men came from the hall when they saw the white stars on our shields and the grey tails on our helms. Nimue charged with us, shrieking and wailing, and I saw the line of enemy spearmen turn with horror on their faces. I ran straight at Lavaine. He saw me, recognized me and froze in terror. He had disguised himself as a Christian priest by hanging a crucifix around his neck. This was no time for men to ride Dumnonia dressed as Druids, but it was time for Lavaine to die and I screamed my God’s name as I charged at him.

Then a Saxon Guard ran in front of me, his bright axe glittering reflected flamelight as he swung its heavy blade at my skull. I parried it with the shield and the force of the blow jarred down my arm. Then I slid Hywelbane forward, twisted her blade in his belly and dragged it free in a rush of spilling Saxon guts. Issa had killed another Saxon and Scarach, his fiery Irish wife, had come from the hall to slash at a wounded Saxon with a boar spear, while Nimue was driving her spear into a man’s belly. I parried another spear blow, put the spearman down with Hywelbane and looked desperately around for Lavaine. I saw him running with Dian in his arms. He was trying to reach his brother behind the hall when a rush of spearmen cut him off and he turned, saw me and fled towards the gate. He held Dian like a shield.

‘I want him alive!’ I roared and plunged towards him through the firelit chaos. Another Saxon came at me roaring the name of his God, and I cut the God’s name out of his throat with a lunge of Hywelbane. Then Issa shouted a warning and I heard the hoofs and saw that the enemy who had been guarding the back of the hall were charging on horseback to their comrades’ rescue. Dinas, who was dressed like his brother in the black robes of a Christian priest, led the charge with a drawn sword. ‘Stop them!’ I shouted. I could hear Dian screaming. The enemy was panicking. They outnumbered us, but the irruption of spearmen from the black night had torn their hearts to ribbons and one-eyed Nimue, shrieking and wild with her bloody spear, must have appeared to them as a ghastly night ghoul come for their souls. They fled in terror. Lavaine waited for his brother close to the burning storehouse and still held his sword at Dian’s throat. Scarach, hissing like Nimue, stalked him with her spear, but she dared not risk my daughter’s life. Others of the enemy scrambled over the palisade, some ran for the gate, some were cut down in the shadows between the huts and some escaped by running alongside the terrified horses that pounded past us into the night.

Dinas rode straight for me. I raised my shield, hefted Hywelbane and shouted a challenge, but at the very last moment he swerved his white-eyed horse aside and hurled the sword at my head. He rode towards his twin brother instead and as he neared Lavaine he leaned down from the saddle and extended his arm. Scarach flung herself out of the path of the charging horse just as Lavaine leapt up into Dinas’s saving embrace. He dropped Dian and I saw her sprawl away from him as I ran after the horse. Lavaine was clinging desperately to his brother who clung just as desperately to the saddle-bar as the horse galloped away. I shouted at them to stay and fight, but the twins just galloped into the black trees where the enemy’s other survivors had fled. I cursed their souls. I stood in the gate and called them vermin, cowards, creatures of evil.

‘Derfel?’ Ceinwyn called from behind me. ‘Derfel?’ I abandoned my curses and turned to her. ‘I live,’

I said, ‘I live.’ ‘Oh, Derfel!’ she wailed, and it was then that I saw that Ceinwyn was holding Dian and that Ceinwyn’s white dress was white no longer, but red.

I ran to their side. Dian was cradled tight in her mother’s arms, and I dropped my sword, tore the helmet from my head and fell to my knees beside them. ‘Dian?’ I whispered, ‘my love?’

I saw the soul flicker in her eyes. She saw me - she did see me - and she saw her mother before she died. She looked at us for an instant and then her young soul flew away as soft as a wing in darkness and with as little fuss as a candle flame blown out by a wisp of wind. Her throat had been cut as Lavaine leapt for his brother’s arm, and now her small heart just gave up the struggle. But she did see me first. I know she did. She saw me, then she died, and I put my arms around her and around her mother and I cried like a child.

For my little lovely Dian, I wept.

We had taken four unwounded prisoners. One was a Saxon Guard and three were Belgic spearmen. Merlin questioned them, and when he had finished I hacked all four to pieces. I slaughtered them. I killed in a rage, sobbing as I killed, blind to anything but Hywelbane’s weight and the empty satisfaction of feeling her blade bite into their flesh. One by one, in front of my men, in front of Ceinwyn, in front of Morwenna and Seren, I butchered all four men and when it was done Hywelbane was wet and red from tip to hilt and still I hacked at their lifeless bodies. My arms were soaked in blood, my rage could have filled the whole world and still it would not bring little Dian back. I wanted more men to kill, but the enemy’s wounded had already had their throats cut and so, with no more revenge to take and bloody as I was, I walked to my terrified daughters and held them in my arms. I could not stop crying; nor could they. I held them as though my life depended on theirs, and then I carried them to where Ceinwyn still cradled Dian’s corpse. I gently unfolded Ceinwyn’s arms and placed them about her living children, then I took Dian’s little body and carried it to the burning storehouse. Merlin came with me. He touched his staff on Dian’s forehead, then nodded to me. It was time, he was saying, to let Dian’s soul cross the bridge of swords, but first I kissed her, then I laid her body down and used my knife to cut away a thick strand of her golden hair that I placed carefully in my pouch. That done, I raised her up, kissed her one last time and threw her corpse into the flames. Her hair and her little white dress flared bright.

‘Feed the fire!’ Merlin snapped at my men. ‘Feed it!’

They tore down a hut to make the fire into a furnace that would burn Dian’s body into nothing. Her soul was already going to its shadowbody in the Otherworld, and now her balefire roared into the dark while I knelt in front of the flames with an empty ravaged soul.

Merlin lifted me up. ‘We must go, Derfel.’

‘I know.’

He embraced me, holding me in his long strong arms like a father. ‘If I could have saved her,’ he said softly.

‘You tried,’ I said, and cursed myself for lingering in Ynys Wydryn.

‘Come,’ Merlin said. ‘We must be a long way off by dawn.’

We took what little we could carry. I discarded the bloody armour I was wearing and took my good coat of mail that was trimmed with gold. Seren took three kittens in a leather bag, Morwenna a distaff and a bundle of clothes, while Ceinwyn carried a bag of food. There were eighty of us altogether; spearmen, families, servants and slaves. All of them had thrown some small token into the balefire; a scrap of bread mostly, though Gwlyddyn, Merlin’s servant, had tossed Dian’s coracle into the flames so that she could paddle it through the lakes and creeks of the Otherworld. Ceinwyn, walking with Merlin and Malaine, her brother’s Druid, asked what happened to children in the Otherworld. ‘They play,’ Merlin said with all his ancient authority. ‘They play beneath the apple trees and wait for you.’

‘She will be happy,’ Malaine reassured her. He was a tall, thin, stooped young man who carried Iorweth’s old staff. He seemed shocked by the night’s horror, and he was plainly nervous of Nimue in her filthy, blood-spattered robe. Her eye patch had disappeared, and her ghastly hair hung lank and draggled.

Ceinwyn, once she had satisfied herself of Dian’s fate, came and walked beside me. I was still in agony, blaming myself for pausing to watch Lancelot’s ceremony of marriage, but Ceinwyn was calmer now. ‘It was her fate, Derfel,’ she said, ‘and she’s happy now.’ She took my arm. ‘And you’re alive. They told us you were dead. Both you and Arthur.’

‘He lives,’ I promised her. I walked in silence, following the white robes of the two Druids. ‘One day,’

I said after a while, ‘I shall find Dinas and Lavaine and their deaths will be terrible.’

Ceinwyn squeezed my arm. ‘We were all so happy,’ she said. She had begun crying again and I tried to find words to console her, but there could be no explanation of why the Gods had snatched Dian away. Behind us, bright in the night sky, the flames and smoke of Ermid’s Hall boiled towards the stars. The hall thatch had at last caught the fire and our old life was being burned to ashes. We followed a twisting path beside the mere. The moon had slid from behind its clouds to cast a silver light on the rushes and willows and on the shallow, wind-rippled lake. We walked towards the sea, but I had scarcely thought what we should do when we reached the shore. Lancelot’s men would search for us, that much was certain, and somehow we would need to find safety. Merlin had questioned our prisoners before I killed them and he now told Ceinwyn and me what he had learned. Much of it we already knew. Mordred was said to have been killed while hunting, and one of the prisoners had claimed that the King had been murdered by the father of a girl he had raped. Arthur was rumoured to be dead and so Lancelot had declared himself the King of Dumnonia. The Christians had welcomed him in the belief that Lancelot was their new John the Baptist, a man who had presaged the first coming of Christ just as Lancelot now presaged the second.

‘Arthur didn’t die,’ I said bitterly. ‘He was meant to, and I was meant to die with him, but they failed. And how,’ I asked, ‘if I saw Arthur just thee days ago, did Lancelot hear of his death so soon?’

‘He hasn’t heard of it,’ Merlin said calmly. ‘He’s just hoping for it.’

I spat. ‘It’s Sansum and Lancelot,’ I said angrily. ‘Lancelot probably arranged for Mordred’s death and Sansum arranged ours. Now Sansum has his Christian King and Lancelot has Dumnonia.’

‘Except that you live,’ Ceinwyn said quietly.

‘And Arthur lives,’ I said, ‘and if Mordred’s dead, then the throne is Arthur’s.’

‘Only if he defeats Lancelot,’ Merlin said drily.

‘Of course he’ll defeat Lancelot,’ I said scornfully.

‘Arthur’s weakened,’ Merlin warned me gently. ‘Scores of his men have been killed. All Mordred’s guards are dead and so are all the spearmen at Caer Cadarn. Cei and his men are dead in Isca, or if they’re not dead, they’re fugitives. The Christians have risen, Derfel. I hear they marked their houses with the sign of the fish, and any house that didn’t carry the mark had its inhabitants slaughtered.’ He paced in gloomy silence for a while. ‘They’re cleansing Britain for the coming of their God.’

‘But Lancelot hasn’t killed Sagramor,’ I said, hoping that what I said was true, ‘and Sagramor leads an army.’

‘Sagramor lives,’ Merlin assured me, and then delivered the worst news of that terrible night, ‘but he’s been attacked by Cerdic. It seems to me,’ he went on, ‘that Lancelot and Cerdic might well have agreed to divide Dumnonia between them. Cerdic will take the frontier lands and Lancelot will rule the rest.’

I could find nothing to say. It seemed incomprehensible. Cerdic was loose in Dumnonia? And the Christians had risen to make Lancelot their King? And it had all happened so swiftly, within days, and there had been no sign of it before I left Dumnonia.

‘There were signs,’ Merlin said, reading my mind. ‘There were signs, it was just that none of us took them seriously. Who cared if a few Christians painted the fish on their house walls? Who took any notice of their frenzies? We became so used to their priests’ ranting that we no longer listened to what they were saying. And which of us believes that their God will come to Britain in four years’ time? There were signs all around us, Derfel, and we were blind to them. But that’s not what caused this horror.’

‘Sansum and Lancelot caused it,’ I said.

‘The Cauldron brought it,’ Merlin said. ‘Someone has used it, Derfel, and its power is loose in the land. I suspect Dinas and Lavaine have it, but they don’t know how to control it and so they’ve spilt its horror.’