I missed Lucanus on that ride and so, it was plain, did Donuil. He rode in silence, his face grim as he struggled to keep his seat on the big animal that surged beneath him. Donuil would never be a confident horseman. Our order of march was simple and progressive: walk, trot, canter, gallop, canter, trot, walk; one mile of each, in three parallel, close-formation columns of six abreast, permitting our horses to conserve their energy while covering distance effectively and quickly.
By mid-morning of the second day of hard, relentless riding, we were on our home ground, tired but jubilant to recognize our own Mendip Hills in the distance. We had seen few signs of the enemy since the previous forenoon—a few distant formations, too far away to concern us, and all of those now heading north. We would be in time, it seemed, to warn our people. I was tempted to relax our pace, but resisted and instead urged my people on to greater speed. The miles fell away beneath our steady rhythm, and as the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, the Mendips rose around us and we swung directly towards Camulod.
At one point, crossing a high, expansive area of open grassland that rose to a narrow pass between two low hills, I led my column forward, listening to the muffled thunder of our drumming hoofbeats as the others fell into place behind me. The blood was singing in my veins as we climbed at a steady canter, and I was reviewing the eve/its of the past few weeks, the threat of Lot and his assembling army temporarily forgotten now that we were so close to home. I had met and befriended Germanus the Bishop, Vortigern the King, and Jacob, the Chief of Lindum, and I had found a brother in, Ambrose—not merely a brother in spirit, but in fact; a sibling! I had also learned the tenor of the discussions at the great debate and could report that Alaric's immortal soul was safe and we were in no danger of being excommunicate. And now I was returning home to my Cassandra, who was Donuil's sister Deirdre, and to our child. Filled with the joy of anticipation by this last thought, I sank my spurs into my horse's flanks and surged ahead of my men as we approached the crest. Beyond it, the valley that lay ahead of me was tiny, covered in short, green turf and rising steeply to another, more pronounced crest. Hearing the riders behind me speed up in response to my surge, I put my heels to my horse again and leaned forward, bracing myself in my stirrups, and whispering into his ear for more speed, so that he bounded to the top of the crest and charged over it into the slight depression that lay beyond, where he screamed in terror and reared violently, throwing me from his back as he tried, vainly, to avoid the grisly pile of human bodies that lay concealed by the last few feet of the crest. And even as I fell heavily, I heard him crash onto his side, and the sound of arrows hissing through the air around me.
The fall hammered the breath from me, and I lay gasping in agony and out of my senses for a time, whooping and sucking in terror-stricken panic for air that would not come, while chaos blossomed around me. By the time my breathing began to return to normal, I had recognized Pellus's staring, lifeless eyes gazing into my own and had realized that the piled bodies belonged to our scouts, for Orvic lay sprawled beside Pellus; the new-healed scar from the last arrow that had sought him gleamed livid. I had little doubt that all our scouts were in this pile of dead, for there must have been a dozen corpses, and Pellus had had few more than that. How they had died, how they could have been surprised so completely, would remain forever a mystery to me. Pellus had been the best, the most experienced scout I had ever known, and Orvic had been more animal than man in sensing danger. His instincts and his ability scent trouble had astounded me on many occasions over the years I had known him. And now both were dead, Pellus's throat transfixed by one arrow and a second buried in his heart while Orvic's back was arched unnaturally, as though attempting to dislodge the shaft buried between his shoulder-blades.
The sounds of conflict came back into my consciousness—all the noise of battle, the screams of men and horses, the muffled thunder of hooves, the clash and clang of weapons, and throughout all this, the lethal, whipping hiss of hard-shot arrows. Fully conscious by this time and preparing to rise to my feet, I realized that no one seemed to be shooting at me. I raised my head cautiously and looked around me. I was alone, except for my horse, which stood nearby, head down as he cropped the short grass, ignoring the carnage close by. My head was pounding painfully and I reached up to rub it, feeling instead the smooth, sun- warmed metal of my helmet. And then I heard a new sound, an onrush of fresh horsemen, and I struggled to my feet just in time to see a wedge-shaped formation of mounted men sweeping down from the hillside above to crash into the seething ranks of my own troops. To my right and left, the hillside was alive with bowmen, most of whom were now throwing their bows aside. They could not shoot, now that their own men were in the way. As they cast away their weapons, they drew swords and rushed down to join the struggle below.
I walked slowly to my horse, feeling a sensation of dizziness which faded rapidly as my strength returned. My iron- balled flail hung from my saddle bow, unused since the first confrontation with Lot's army when my father died. I raised one foot to the stirrup and pulled myself up onto the horse's back, noting as I did so that my troops were faring very badly. Many—far too many—men and horses lay strewn on the ground. The bodies bristled with arrows. Those who remained alive were packed into a dense, milling throng, dismounted survivors among them. I loosened my flail, swung it around my head, and spurred my horse towards the fighting.
I had not even had time to spur my horse to a gallop before yet another wave of horsemen came sweeping down from above, and I felt myself groan with despair and a blossoming rage that changed to incredulity as I saw the great red and gold dragon standard of Uther Pendragon at the head of the newcomers. I screamed a welcome and urged my mount forward faster, and sometime in the course of the fight, I found myself riding knee to knee with my wild, grinning cousin, sweeping all before us until we were separated by the swirling tide of the fight.
Sometime later, my great horse went to its knees beneath me, stabbed or hamstrung, and I fell forward onto the grass, losing my grip on my flail. As I lay there, winded, Uther saw me on the ground and leaped down from his horse to stand astride me, clearing a space around us with his own whirling flail and I knew that if I could only rise to my feet, the two of us together could vanquish all who stood against us. But I could not rise, with Uther straddling me. Moments later, he grunted and sprawled forward, off balance, propelled by a spear thrust to the middle of his metal backplate. I scrambled to rise to my feet, and as I did so I felt someone grasp my dangling flail and pull it, tearing the restraining thong from my wrist as I pushed myself to my knees, and then I saw my assailant, a dirty, bearded, broken-toothed, grinning madman, whirling the ball around his head, his battle-crazed eyes fixed on mine as I knelt, off balance, at his feet. I threw myself forward again, too slowly to evade the swinging ball, and the world ended.
XXXVIII
I opened my eyes in a new world, one in which I was a total stranger, a world in which I was to exist for almost two whole years.
When I opened my eyes the first time, this new world consisted of a single, white-painted room, containing four other people. I knew I was in a room. I did not know where. I knew I was in a bed. I knew that the people watching me were wearing coloured clothes: orange and green and blue and white. At least I think I knew that then. I might have simply learned it later and not remembered doing so. I did not know the people. I watched them look at me, and lean over me. I watched their mouths move. I did not know they were speaking. I did not know I was not hearing them. I did know I felt pain, I knew my head and my body were both filled with pain. Soon I closed my eyes again.