Pendragon

'If I had told you,' Arthur replied easily, 'you might have found it more agreeable to stay home.'

'At least I would have had a bed.' Cador drew a hand through his hair and rubbed his face. 'These Vandali are certainly strange-looking creatures.'

One of Fergus' men appeared with more cups and jars of ale. He proceeded to fill and distribute the cups among the lords as they sat down. 'Where is their homeland?' wondered Meurig.

Arthur invited me to answer. 'They have come from Carthage, where they have lived for many years,' I replied. 'The Emperor of the East has driven them from that place, and so now they search for new lands, and plunder as they go.'

'You know this truly?' mused Owain.

'They have with them a slave – a priest named Hergest, who speaks our tongue,' Arthur answered. 'He has told us the little we know.'

'But who are they?' demanded Ogryvan. 'And who is their king?'

'They are a northern race,' I answered, 'led by one Amilcar, who styles himself Twrch Trwyth, the Black Boar of Hussa, Rogat, and Vandalia. He is a rapacious lord whose greed is exceeded only by his vanity.'

We talked of this for a time, and then the conversation turned to the lack of any worthwhile Irish presence. The British kings were sharply critical of the circumstance, and allowed their opinions free rein. They decried the catastrophe on the battlefield.

'I would have welcomed a little more support from the Irish,' Ogryvan suggested delicately.

'Support?' sneered Brastias. 'Even my cowherds are better able to defend themselves. Can they not be bothered to protect their own lands?'

'Hold, Brastias,' Bedwyr warned. 'They know their mistake. Arthur has dealt with them. The matter is ended.'

The lords stared uneasily into their cups, and it was only when the haunches of venison appeared and men began to eat that tempers eased. Still, it was not a good beginning; the lords trusted Arthur, yes, and for now were content to extend that trust to include the Irish. But for how long?

That was the question concerning me. Taking the matter into my own hands, I left the lords to their repast and went in search of Conaire. I found him sitting with three of his chieftains beside a small fire; I did not wait to be greeted. 'May I join you?" I asked.

Conaire raised his eyes and I glimpsed genuine surprise in his expression. 'Sit,' he said. 'You are welcome here, bard.'

He returned his gaze to the fire. I decided a clean cut was best. 'Arthur holds no ill will for you, Conaire,' I told him. 'But we cannot drive the invader from the land without the aid of the southern Irish. You must see that now.'

Conaire nodded glumly.

'I know what happened,' I continued, drawing him out. 'You saw how easily Arthur repelled the first attack, and you thought it would be the same with you.'

'That I did,' replied Conaire, staring into the fire.

'Well, there is no shame in it,' I said. 'Some of the best warriors the world has ever seen have tried their hand.'

'Truly?' wondered Conaire, glancing up hopefully.

'Truly,' I answered solemnly. 'The grave mounds are full of Saecsen war leaders who thought they knew how to best Arthur.'

Caught, the Irish king squirmed. 'Is he a god then, that he never puts a foot wrong in battle?'

'No, Arthur is a man,' I assured him. 'But he is not like other men when it comes to a fight. The ways of war are meat and drink to him, Conaire. His skill is like to the genius of a bard, and -'

'A bard of battle.' Conaire sniffed in mild derision.

I paused, checking my anger. 'Mock me, Conaire, I do not mind. But the men who died under your command today deserved better.'

'Do I not know that?' His voice was anguished. 'I sit here with my head in my hands and it is all I am thinking.'

'Then while you sit there, add this thought to your thinking. You may not like the Britons -'

'A true word there,' muttered one of the Irish chieftains.

'Even so,' I allowed, 'Arthur has risked much to bring those Britons here. I do not say you should like it, but you should be grateful at least.'

Conaire shrugged, but said nothing. His insolent silence angered me. 'Think!' I demanded. 'Which is easier: raising a warband and sailing to a foreign land to engage a fearsome enemy, or remaining secure in your own realm and enjoying the fruit of your reign?' The four of them stared dully at me. 'Tell me, if you know.' Contempt dripped from my words.

'You make it more than it is,' Conaire insisted weakly.

'So?' I challenged. 'If it is a matter of such small consequence, then tell me this: which of you would do the same for him?'

Conaire's eyes shifted to one and another of his chieftains and then back to the fire. None of them made bold to reply.

Suddenly sickened by the Irish king's misplaced pride and selfishness, I wanted nothing more to do with him. Rising at once, I bade him consider well my words. Then I removed myself from that miserable company.

Great Light, they are but children! Breathe on them the breath of wisdom, strengthen their hearts and souls, for in the heat-rage of battle we need not children, but men!

TWELVE

We met Amilcar and his horde the next day in a narrow valley beside a lake. The foe displayed a guile not seen before. Instead of simply overwhelming us with their numbers, they split the main body of their force into three divisions and attempted to draw and separate the British defence. It was clumsily done, however, and Arthur easily avoided the trap. The attack, confined and constricted by the steep sides of the glen, quickly collapsed and the invaders withdrew in all haste. In this they showed freshly acquired wisdom.

'The Black Boar is growing canny,' Cai observed, watching the Vandal host streaming from the valley.

'They are learning respect,' Bedwyr suggested.

Llenlleawg, overhearing the remark, said, 'They are learning cunning. It will not be long before they overcome their fear of our horses.'

'Pray that does not happen,' Arthur replied. 'Our ships will arrive soon, and if Conaire succeeds in rallying the south Irish we may have a large enough force to defeat the Boar and his piglets, or drive them back to the sea.'

Our ships did arrive later that day, bringing the remaining men and horses, but only a fraction of the provisions we required. 'I am sorry, Lord,' Rhys apologized as we stood looking at the scant heap of provisions stacked on the shingle. Men slogged ashore through the shallows, leading horses, or carrying weapons. 'I swear it is all I could raise. If I had had more time to range farther…" he paused. 'I am sorry.'

'Where is the blame?' Arthur asked. 'I find no fault with you. Fret not, Rhys.'

'But it is a shameful portion for men who must fight.'

'True,' the king agreed, but added optimistically, 'Still, it may be enough – if the campaign is short.'

'Oh, aye,' Rhys said, eyeing the meagre heap doubtfully, 'if we conclude the conflict tomorrow or the day after. The supplies will last that long at least.'

We did not fight Twrch the next day, nor the day after – although we did keep close watch on the enemy. Arthur set scouts in a wide ring around the Vandal encampment, and charged them with reporting even the smallest movement, day or night – requiring them also to bring back any game for the pot. When, for the third day, the Black Boar again refused to take the field, Arthur grew suspicious.

'Why does he wait?' Arthur wondered. 'What can he be thinking? He must know that the longer he delays the stronger our forces grow.'

And indeed, Conaire arrived the following day with five Irish kings and their warbands-over nine hundred men in all, though less than half were mounted. This brought the number of defenders to nearly two thousand in all. Arthur was well pleased with the southern lords' support. Unfortunately, they seemed to have come empty-handed, expecting food and supplies to be provided by the Britons.

'I commend you, Conaire,' Arthur said, hailing him loudly and with praise in the hearing of his brother kings. 'You have richly increased our numbers. I do not doubt that with such support as you have won, we will soon drive the foe from your lands.'