And Tewdrig had a smith – which we did not have. The hall was larger, too; timber and thatch, with a great planked door bound in iron. The walls were timber, topping steep earthen ramparts.
I stood on the bank above the ditch, imagining I alone defended the gates and that victory depended upon me. Absorbed in my dreams of future glory, I felt a touch on the haft of my spear and glanced round. The infant Arthur was clutching the end of my spear in his chubby hands and grinning toothlessly at me.
I jerked the spear angrily. But he held on. I jerked again, and still he did not let go. Such a grip! Well, of course I was forced to show him that I was his better, so I stepped close and shoved the spear against his chest. His unsteady stumps buckled and he toppled backwards into the dust. I laughed at him and gloated in my superior strength.
He did not cry put as I expected him to, nor did the smile disappear from his round face. He simply gazed merrily at me with not so much as a mild reproach in his wide blue eyes.
Anger and shame battled within me. Shame won. Glancing around guiltily – lest anyone should see what I had done – I quickly stooped and took his fat little arm in my hand and pulled Arthur to his feet.
We were friends from that moment, I believe. Little Arthur became my shadow, and I the sun that rose in the sky for him. Few were the days that we did not spend in one another's company. We broke the same bread, drank from the same cup, breathed the same air. And later, when he joined me in the boys' house, we became closer than brothers.
When men think of Arthur now, they think of the emperor and his lands and palace. Or they think of the glorious battlechief, whose victories stretch behind him like a gem-crusted strand. They think of the invincible Pendragon who holds all Britain in sure, strong hands.
God's truth, I believe they consider him an Otherworld being, sprung up in their midst from the dust under their feet, or called down by Myrddin Emrys from the mists of high Yr Widdfa. Certainly, no one thinks of him as a man – with a birth and boyhood like any other man. Nor do bards tell of it.
Stories abound in the land in these days; they grow thick, like moss on a fallen branch. Some few have a mote of truth in them, but far too many do not. It is natural, perhaps, the desire to make more of things – a tale does often grow greater in the telling.
But it is not needful. Purest gold needs no gilding, after all.
It is Arthur the War Leader that I speak of, mind. Artorius Rex, he was not. All through that long season of strife he remained unacknowledged by the small kings. Small dogs, more like. Though they begrudged him even the tide of Dux – and that was a travesty! – he wore it proudly, and fought the wars for them.
The wars… each glorious and hideous, each different from all the others, yet each one exactly alike in the end.
There were twelve in all. The first took place the very next summer after Arthur bested Cerdic in single combat and ended the rebellion against him. Arthur had spent the winter at Ynys Avallach and returned in the spring, bearing his new sword, and burning with his new vision of the Kingdom of Summer.
I had gone to the breeding runs – the sheltered glens east of Caer Melyn, where we wintered our horses and maintained the breeding stock – to see what we could count on for the coming year. It was foaling season, so I stayed on to help midwife a few colts into the world.
Winter had lingered long and I was glad to be free of the caer for a few days. I have always disliked close places, preferring wide hills and a lofty sky to the walls and peaked roof of a hall. Though cold at night, I was glad to stay with the herders in their hut, and ride with them during the day as they tended the animals.
One gusty morning, I was leading four swell-bellied mares down the valley to the enclosure near the hut where they could be delivered more easily. Feeling the fresh wind on my face, my spirit rose within me and I began to sing – loudly and with vigour – or I might have heard the rider calling me.
Indeed, I did not hear him until he was all but on top of me. 'Bedwyr! Hail, Bedwyr! Wait!'
I turned to see one of the younger warriors galloping towards me. I greeted him as he reined up and fell in beside me. 'Greetings, Drusus, what do you here?'
'Lord Cai has sent me to bring you. Arthur has returned and would have you with him. We are riding out in three days' time.'
'Riding where?' I knew nothing of any trouble anywhere. 'I cannot say; Cai did not tell me. Will you come?' 'I will see these horses settled first. Rest yourself while you wait, and we will return together.'
I continued on down the valley and gave the mares over to the care of a herdsman. I gathered my cloak and weapons from the hut, and rode back to the caer at once. All the while, I bethought me what could be happening. I could get nothing more from Drusus, so contented myself with flying over the windswept hills as fast as my horse could run. God's truth, I would have made all speed anyway, I was that anxious to see Arthur.
He was standing in the centre of a tumult of urgent bustle, talking to Cai, when I rode in. I threw myself from the saddle, and ran to meet Arthur. 'Jesu be praised! The wanderer has returned!' I cried.
'Hail, Bedwyr!' he called, a great grin appearing instantly on his face. 'Have we a herd?'
'We have a herd. Fifteen foals already, and twenty more perhaps before the season is done. It is blood and breath to see you, Artos.'
I stepped close and we gripped one another by the arms like brothers, and he wrapped me in his rib-cracking bear hug. 'You have weathered well, I see.' He thumped me soundly on the back. 'Was the winter to your liking?' 'A little long,' I admitted, 'but not too cold.' 'Cai has told me you drove Rhys nearly mad with your complaining. He is only a bard, Bedwyr. Would you have him change the weather with a song?'
'A fresh tale to pass the time would suffice. But look at you, Bear – you seem to have fallen in with the Fair Folk.' His smile became mysterious and he drew his sword for me to admire. 'This is Caledvwlch,' he told me. 'It was given me by the Lady of the Lake.'
I had never seen a weapon like it, and told him so. 'A man could win a kingdom with this,' I observed, feeling its quick weight fill my hand. The blade seemed instantly a part of me, more a bright extension of my arm than a measured length of cold steel.
'Well said,' Arthur replied, 'and that kingdom has a name.'
That is all he said, and he would speak no more about it then. 'Come to me in my chambers. I will summon Myrddin.' He walked away across the yard.
I glanced at Cai, who shrugged, as puzzled by the change in Arthur as I was myself. For our friend had changed.
Or perhaps, because of bis long absence, I was only seeing a different side to Arthur from any I had seen before. But no, we were brothers! I knew him well enough to know that something had happened to him at Ynys Avallach. I determined to find out from Myrddin.
'I hear we are to ride in three days,' I said, as Cai and I moved off towards the hall. 'Any idea where we are going?'
To the Saecsen Shore.'
I stopped walking and turned him round by the arm. 'Is this one of your tasteless jests?'
'It is no jest.' For once the green eyes in his ruddy face were serious. 'That is what he told me – although he said no more than that. And now you know as much about it as I do.'
'Did you notice how he grinned at me?' I said, as we continued to the hall. 'I have seen a smile like that only twice in my life till now: the first time was on the face of a slow-witted youth who stole a pig from my father's sty and was caught trying to sell it in the market, and the second was when old Gerontius died at his prayers.'