Cai gave a little snort to show what he thought of the notion. Up spoke Aedd from two places away, and I realized he had been following the conversation closely, overhearing every word. 'Let them console themselves with their pitiful belief if they can, brother Cai,' he said. 'Take no heed. Only allow me to ride beside you and we will show one and all what can be accomplished by men who know the sharp end of a spear.'
'Well said, my Irish friend!' replied Cai, slapping the board with his palm. 'Let the foe beware.'
'And friend as well,' said Bedwyr.
They then fell into an amiable dispute about who should fare best in the next day's combat, and boast gave way to boast. I looked beyond them down the length of the board and saw the remaining British and Irish nobles head-to-head in equally agreeable discourse, with Arthur and Gwenhwyvar ruling over this affable assembly, gently encouraging the new-born concord to deepen and thrive.
Great Light, may brotherhood succeed! Send your sweet spirit to soothe the hurts and grudges of former days.
When at last we rose from the board and made our way to our beds, it was as if we had all discovered kinsmen closer to us than the blood kin left behind. Of all present, Conaire alone was in no a better humour and disposition when he stood up than when he first sat down. The serpent of jealousy had its sharp tooth in him and began to gnaw.
With the warriors assembled and ready, and food supplies short, we did not wait for the Black Boar to attack again, but carried the battle to him. Though still woefully outnumbered, Arthur, determined to make the most of the fear and confusion caused by our horses, proposed another night raid.
Throughout the day, guided by the reports of our spies, we established positions in the low hills encircling the Vandal encampment. By stealth, like a great stalking cat, we slowly, silently gathered our strength for the assault. As the sun dipped below the rim of the horizon, we were ready to pounce.
Darkness came eventually, but even when night's cloak overspread the valley, the sky remained light. Arthur crouched in the dusky shadow of an elm on the flank of the hill, idly plucking grass from the turf and watching the enemy campfires. I crouched beside him. Strung out along the hilltops all around the camp, unseen in the twilight, our warriors awaited Arthur's signal.
The night was still. We could hear the sounds of the camp below as they prepared the evening meaclass="underline" the clink and clatter of cooking utensils, the murmur of voices around the fire… the common sounds of ordinary life, innocent in themselves. The Vandali were human creatures, after all, more alike in their ways than different.
'I did not choose this,' Arthur murmured after a time. His thoughts were running with mine.
'Amilcar did,' I reminded him. 'You gave him the choice.'
'Did I?' He spat out a blade of grass he had been chewing.
After a while, the moon rose, shedding a soft silver light over the valley. A chill crept into the air as the warmth of the land gradually cooled in the absence of the sun. Behind us, ready, growing anxious for the fight, our warriors fidgeted, the need for still, watchful silence chafing them.
Still Arthur waited.
The moon made its slow, stately way across the skybowl and, little by little, the sounds of the enemy camp diminished. Keen-eyed in the night, Arthur crouched, mute and immobile as a mountain. Yet I sensed in him an inner agitation-or did I only imagine it? Regardless, it seemed to me that he warred within himself, doubting the wisdom of the course he pursued. And so he hesitated.
Sensing his thought, I said, softly, 'The battle plan is sound. It is but the waiting makes you doubt it.'
He turned his face to me. I could see his eyes hard and bright in the moonlight. 'But I do not doubt it,' he replied. 'Then why do you hesitate?'
'If I hesitate,' he replied, 'it is from certainty, not doubt. Our raid will succeed.' He returned his gaze to the valley and peered into the darkness – like a seaman trying to fathom an unknowable depth.
'Strange cause for concern,' I observed, trying to comfort him somewhat.
'I tell you the truth, Myrddin,' he said, and though he spoke softly I heard the iron edge to his words. 'I fear this victory, for I cannot see beyond it.' He paused, and I thought he would not speak again. But after a moment he went on, 'Streams of consequence flow from every action, and from every conflict there are two paths by which events may go. Always, before I draw sword in battle, I look ahead to see which path may offer the better resolution, and I move the battle towards that path if I can.' He paused again, and I waited, letting him come to it in his own time. 'Tonight,' he continued at last, 'tonight I look, but I cannot see where either path may lead.'
'And that frightens you?'
'Yes, it frightens me.'
'Then I am greatly encouraged,' I confessed.
'Are you indeed?' He regarded me closely once more.
'I am,' I told him, 'for it tells me you are but flesh and blood after all, Arthur ap Aurelius, though some have begun to think otherwise.'
I saw his teeth glint white in the darkness as he smiled. He rose abruptly, reaching down to help me to my feet. 'Come then, disagreeable bard,' he said. 'It is time to discover which path we shall take – and trust God to meet us on the way.'
BOOK THREE
FORGOTTEN WAR
All you who look upon the land now and raise your unholy complaint, tell me: where were you when the Black Boar gouged our sacred earth with his tusks and shook the very hills of Ynys Prydein with his ungodly bellowing?
Tell me! You, who from the lofty battlements of your superior intellect scan all that passes in the world and pronounce upon it, tell me now that you divined the disaster that came to pass. I defy you! Instruct me, Wise Ones, in how it could have been prevented.
O Great of Knowledge, secure in your wide intelligence as you regard the calamity of Twrch Trwyth, tell me: did you also foresee the Yellow Ravager?
When the dread Comet passed over the Island of the Mighty and scourged Lloegres with its tail, where were you? I will tell you, shall I? You sailed for Armorica!
Who left the land of your birth to barbarians? Who left your shores undefended? Who turned away from Britain in its day of peril and dread? Not Arthur. Never Arthur.
Why do you complain? Why do you demean him now? I demand an answer! Tell me: why do you grieve heaven with your tedious contention?
The caviling of the false-hearted is the mewling of sick cats. It signifies nothing – save a pinched, ungenerous spirit, perverse in spite and rotten with envy. The weak-willed always decry those who, when the day of strife breaks, fill their hearts with courage and cast safety to the wind. Fear is man's first enemy, and his last.
Hear me now; I tell you the truth: conquer fear and your reward is assured.
On the night that Arthur sought light along conflict's shadowed paths, he found only fear. Even so, being Arthur, he put fear behind him and strove instead in faith. Thus, all that came after will yet be accounted him as righteousness. This is something small-souled men will never understand.
We triumphed that night, but our victory sowed the seeds of a bitter harvest. We purchased liberty for the Eireann Isle, but at great cost to Ynys Prydein. For Ierne's freedom meant hateful travail for Britain.
At Arthur's word, Rhys sounded a short, piercing blast on the horn, and it was answered no fewer than seven times across the valley. At the horn's second sounding, we lashed our horses to speed. Down we struck, falling like lightning from a cloudless sky.
We drove into the sleeping camp. The Vandali, living by constant warfare and accustomed to it, overcame the shock and reacted swiftly. Leaping from their round tents, they ran screaming to their weapons, and within moments the battle was joined. It was then that Arthur's genius revealed itself anew.