Arthur

Cai laughed out loud. 'I do not think Arthur has been stealing pigs, but that is always a possibility.'

'It is the truth I am telling, Caius; I do not like this. Mark me well, nothing good will come of this.'

'Come of what?'

This… this! You know what I mean.'

He laughed again and slapped me on the back. 'You think too much, Bedwyr. You should have been a druid. Let be; all will be well.'

We walked through the hall to Arthur's chamber at the far end and waited. Presently, Pelleas entered and greeted us warmly – after his peculiar fashion.

The Fair Folk always astonish me. They are not like us in the least. They are a lofty race, for ever holding themselves apart from the life around them. Wondrous fair to look upon, they are nonetheless shy, and by nature do not display their emotions. I think it is pride.

Myrddin is less like this. But then, he is only half Fair Folk… although, what the other half is no one knows.

'Any news from Ynys Avallach, Pelleas?' I asked. I had never been to the Fisher King's palace, but I had heard Myrddin talk about it often enough to know the place.

'We passed a most agreeable winter, Prince Bedwyr,' he replied. This was meant, I suppose, to be a most detailed account of their activities. I had known Pelleas since I was a twig, and this was how he talked to me.

'Is it true that it never snows on the Glass Isle?' Cai put the question to him seriously, but I saw the edges of his mouth twitch in mirth.

'Of course it snows, you young genius!' The voice was that of the Emrys, who entered at that moment with Arthur behind him. 'Greetings, Cai and Bedwyr.'

'Myrddin!' I turned and was swept into his embrace.

'Winter starved and spring hungry, eh?' he said, gripping my arms and peering into my eyes as if searching my soul for the answer. He always did that. Some people find it most unnerving, I am told.

'God's truth, I am!' I declared. 'But you look as if you have lived on roast duck and honey cakes all winter. Jesu be good to you, look at you now!'

Indeed, he appeared as fit as I have ever seen him – not that he ever changed all that much.

'Sit down, all of you,' said Arthur, indicating the benches at his council table. 'We must talk.' He drew up his chair – it was Uther's old camp chair. I never learned where or how he had come by it, unless Tewdrig had somehow got it for him.

Spreading his hands across the board, Arthur studied his fingers, as if trying to decide which of the ten pleased him most. 'It is my intention to ride to the Saecsen Shore in three days' time.'

I glanced round at the others. No one showed a flicker of surprise. Perhaps I have misheard him, I thought; perhaps he said, 'It is my intention to have mutton for supper.'

But, as no one else responded, I said, 'Forgive me, brother, did I understand you to say that we were to attack the Saecsen Shore in three days?'

Arthur smiled his fishy smile again, and shook his head. 'No, there will be no attack. I am going to offer them terms for peace.'

'Peace?' I stared dumbfounded. 'Now I know you have straw for brains, Artos. Leaving aside the fact that you have not the authority, what makes you think they will honour a treaty of peace made with you?'

'I am the Duke of Britain, the war leader. Who else has the right to grant peace if I do not?'

'But, the Saecsens! Have you forgotten the slaughter of four years ago?'

'I have not forgotten, Bedwyr. But I stand ready to forgive them, if they will hold peace with us.'

'And if not?'

'Then we will do what we have to do,' he said, sounding a little more like the Arthur I knew. 'But we would be less than Christians if we did not offer peace before taking up the sword.'

'I see. And what will prevent them from cleaving your head from your shoulders before your tongue has finished flapping? They are Saecsens!'

'And they are men, as we are. No more will I make war on any man – be he Saecsen or Briton – unless I have first offered peace.' The conviction with which he spoke was unassailable.

'Is that the way of it?'

That is the way of it.' Arthur might have been a standing stone for all he would be moved. Once he had an idea in his head, there was no shaking it from him. Arthur was not the Bear of Britain for nothing.

'I am sending messengers to bid any king who will to ride with us,' Arthur continued. 'I pray that some will. But whether they ride with me or not, we leave Caer Melyn in three days.'

'And may God go with us,' I said. We fell to talking about readying the warband to ride – moving so many men is always a chore. Nothing more was said about Arthur's crack-brained peacemongering scheme. When we finished, Arthur called for beer to be brought and we drank. Then we went about our various tasks.

So it was not until we returned to the hall for our supper that I found opportunity to speak to Myrddin.

'Tell me, Wise Emrys,' I said, as I sidled up to him, 'what has become of our beloved Duke?'

He regarded me closely with those golden eyes of his. 'He is coming into his power.'

'That is no answer. What power? How has it come to him? Who conferred it? Where has it come from? And why does it make him soft-headed?'

'It is not his head that has changed, Bedwyr, but bis heart.'

'Head, heart – I hardly recognize him!' Myrddin smiled understandingly. 'Give it time. He will come back to himself."

'I welcome your assurance. Unfortunately, we will all be dead. Saecsens do not want our peace, they want our land and cattle.'

'Arthur has learned a greater truth. His kingdom will be established on justice and mercy towards all men who shelter in this island.' 'Including the Saecsen?'

'Yes, Bedwyr, including the Saecsen. It must be this way.'

'That is not truth, that is madness.' 'If any man has reason to hate the Saecsen, it is me,' Myrddin replied gently. 'Do you know what my friend Hafgan used to tell me?'

Hafgan, I knew, was Myrddin's druid teacher. He was now remembered as the last of the Three True Bards of the Island of the Mighty. 'No, Wise Emrys, enlighten me. What did Hafgan tell you?'

'He said that once some men were digging a well and came upon a great flat stone. It was, they discovered, the foundation stone of this worlds-realm, so they decided to lift it up and see what lay beneath it. This they did. And do you know what they found?'

'I cannot say. What did they find?'

'Love,' replied Myrddin simply.

'Love. That is all?' I resented myself for being cozened by Myrddin's children's tale.

'There is nothing else, Bedwyr. Love lies beneath all that is and upholds it. Arthur has seen that this is so. His kingdom will be built upon the only enduring foundation.'

I went away, shaking my head. It was not that I did not believe. For the love of God, if faith alone lent men rank, I would be Pope! But I know a thing or two about Saecsens, I will say. And it is a difficult thing to preach the love of Christ to a man with his axe in your skull!

Wonderfully benevolent Arthur's plan might be, and wonderfully foolish as well.

Yet, if Myrddin was with him in this, there was nothing to be done. Bors might have been counted on to argue against Arthur's peace scheme, but he had not returned from Benowyc, and would not until the spring seas calmed. It was no good trying to enlist Cai's aid. Cai would never hear a word against Arthur, God love him. His devotion knew no hindrance, his loyalty no restraint. He gave all to Arthur without stint. Right or wrong – it was all the same to Cai, where Arthur came into it.

This was due, I believe, to something that had happened between them years ago. I once heard the tale from Pelleas – how the two of them had climbed a mountain together. With Cai's crooked leg, this could have been no easy task. Be that as it may, when the deed was done Arthur had inspired in Cai the kind of devotion few men ever know: zealous, deep, unselfish, stronger and more steadfast than death.