Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles) (70 page)

"I'm glad to hear it. What brings you to Celliwig?"

"Six British ships sailed into the bay of Voliba this morning. The rumor is that it's Cerdic and his men, come to Medraut's aid."

The men standing near the catapult looked at each other. "Depending on the size of the ships and how full they were, that could be over two hundred and fifty warriors," Arthur said.

"But we had word Cerdic is attempting to take Caer Tamar!" Anir objected.

"Perhaps that was a deliberate distraction," Cador said slowly.

"If it was, we fell for it," Aircol said, his voice bitter. The king of Demetia had arrived with much needed reinforcements only the day before.

Arthur drew a deep breath. "Voliba is only fifteen miles from here."

As they considered the meaning of hundreds of warriors coming to Medraut's aid, Cador thought he heard hoof beats in the distance.

Three riders galloped up the incline from Camlann River, shouting questions and following the directions of pointing hands. They pulled up in front of Arthur, their horses snorting with exertion.

"More Picts have landed south of the Camel, Dux, led by yet another son of Caw," one of them called out.

"Conyn, they say," the second rider added. "In the port at Gannel Bay."

Cador ran his good hand through his hair. Gannel Bay was a little farther than Voliba — but it was safer for ships than the Camel Estuary.

"How many?" Arthur asked.

"About two hundred," the third scout replied.

Which meant the hundreds of warriors on their way here to assist Medraut had just doubled — while Arthur had sent nearly half his men north and east to deal with other attacks. With luck (and Aircol's reinforcements), they might still be equally matched. But that was not counting Medraut's men behind the walls of Celliwig.

They were all adding up the numbers and coming to the same conclusion. Arthur turned to Anir. "If we work into the night, how much longer before we finish the catapults?"

"One is nearly complete and can be done before midnight. The others? Perhaps before dawn. But we would need bonfires to work, and that will alert Medraut to our intentions."

"That is unimportant now," Arthur said. "We have to attack Celliwig as soon as possible, tonight if we can. We no longer have time to wait for Bedwyr and Kustennin to return. The only way to end this is to defeat Medraut."

* * * *

It was torture to be left behind, waiting for news.

At least Celliwig was not far from Dyn Tagell, and those safe behind the walls of the promontory fortress had news regularly. They knew of Bedwyr's campaign against Kallas — yet another son of Caw! — knew that Kustennin and Cai had led a force against Cerdic in Caer Tamar, knew of the messengers sent to allied kings in southwest Britain asking for reinforcements.

Nonetheless, each item of news seemed to leave them waiting for more.

Then finally there was good news: Bedwyr and Gawain had defeated Kallas! Two days later, the victorious troops were spotted making their way to the fort from the mainland village. The women left the promontory and spilled out of the fortifications, hoping their loved ones would be among the troops stopping at Dyn Tagell before continuing on to Celliwig. But when they caught sight of the warband nearing the gates, all excited chatter stopped.

The victorious warriors arriving from the north did not much resemble victors.

Yseult watched as Brangwyn let out a cry and ran to Kurvenal and her foster son Judual. Kurvenal was listing in his saddle, apparently only staying upright because Judual rode beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

Next, Ragnell spotted Gawain and hurried over to him. At least Gawain appeared to have taken no major injury. Gawain's wife had joined them in Dyn Tagell only days before, in order to be closer to her husband. Ragnell had avoided Yseult at first, but one morning, after a particularly uncomfortable breakfast, Yseult decided it was enough.

"Just use your power of knowing and have done with it," Yseult demanded. She opened her mind and allowed Ragnell to see a hint of her confused love for Cador. Afterwards, they slowly became uneasy allies.

With Ragnell had come Llacheu mac Arthur, Arthur's son by his first wife Gwenhwyfar, a king in Rheged through his maternal relatives. Yseult could hardly believe her eyes how much Llacheu resembled Arthur as he'd been when she first arrived in Britain — except for the fact that Llacheu was bearded like the men of the north rather than clean-shaven like the men of the south.

"Bedwyr is sore injured," Gawain said to them. "You must see to him as soon as possible."

Yseult found Bedwyr on a mule cart — probably requisitioned from some peasant. Arthur's closest companion moaned at every bump, the lower part of his right arm no more than a bloody extremity wrapped in leftover scraps of tunics and breeches and capes, none of them clean. Yseult winced at the sight and clenched her hands at her sides.

"We will cure him, Yseult," Ragnell said.

Despite the pain he must be in, Bedwyr was delighted to see Arthur's son leaning over the edge of his cart. He reached up his uninjured hand to grasp Llacheu's. "Well met, young pup! It is good to see you again. And with gray in your hair and a beard like a northern barbarian!"

Llacheu smiled. "I cannot recall the last time anyone called me a 'young pup.'"

They accompanied the warriors across the land bridge and into the lower hall, discussing past and recent events. Bedwyr asked Llacheu about his children, which was the first Yseult had heard that Arthur was a grandfather. Although he never talked much about his private life, she still found it a strange omission.

She had the injured brought into an annex of the hall. She unwound the stinking, blood-soaked rags from Bedwyr's lower arm, fearing the worst. Sure enough, the wound was festering badly. She exchanged glances with Ragnell and Brangwyn; none of them had much hope that they could save it.

"Has there been any news from Kustennin?" Bedwyr asked, still unaware of the fate that awaited him — even if he probably had his suspicions.

Yseult shook her head. "Not since he left for Caer Tamar."

"And how is Cador faring?"

"Last I heard, the siege is as boring as a siege usually is, but I have not had a letter from him for several days." She smiled. "He writes regularly, though; I hope to receive a message any day now."

Yseult had her wish the next day; unfortunately, it was not what she wanted to hear. Further enemy forces had landed at Voliba and Gannel Bay.

Bedwyr was in no condition to continue on to Celliwig. Gawain commanded young Judual to remain in Dyn Tagell with a bare minimum of guards to ensure the safety of the women and the children, and Yseult felt Brangwyn's relief like a wave crashing over on her.

She was glad Ragnell was maintaining the walls in her mind.

The afternoon of the same day, Ragnell held her baby close while their toddler clung to her skirts as she took leave from Gawain. Brangwyn leaned her head against her limping husband's chest, crying openly.

Yesterday, Yseult had envied these women that they were able to see their husbands again. Now she was glad she did not have to say goodbye — knowing as they did that chances were growing ever slimmer their loved ones would return.

Chapter 32

But when three hours were ended,

  By token sure he knew

Sir Gawayne's strength was ebbing fast,

  His blows fell faint and few:

And shouting loud his battlecry,

  He smote with main and might

So fast, so fell, Sir Gawayne

  Swooned on the field outright.

Robert Buchanan, "Gawayne's Revenge"

Was it only last night that Cador had actually felt inclined to appreciate the beauty of the moment? It seemed very far away now. Sometime during the night, the rain had begun again, not enough to put out the bonfires that allowed them to see what they were doing, but enough to make the men working on the siege engines wet to the skin. Damp as it was, they would not be able to use fire with the catapults, the most effective weapon against a hill-fort.

At least they had a huge store of rocks and boulders with which to keep pummeling Celliwig. And once the roof for the battering ram was complete, Arthur intended to send a detail of warriors to break down the main gate. Cador wondered how well that would go. None of them had slept all night, and if the others were as tired as he was, he didn't know how they would have the strength to lift the ram, let alone break down the thick wooden doors.

The light of dawn was still closer to a thought than a reality, when Cador registered a small group slinking through the shadows in the direction of the River Camlann.

"Arthur!" he called, pointing. "It looks as if someone escaped!" He didn't want to mention the first thought that came to mind — that warriors might already be deserting the scene of the battle before the fighting even started.

"Take some men with you and look into it!" Arthur called back over the creak of the catapult as the first load of stones was heaved into place.

Cador nodded shortly and ordered the dozen men closest to mount their horses and follow him.

As they neared the shadowy group, he realized that at least one of them was a woman.

"Surround them!" he ordered his men.

At the command, the refugees began to run, but they were no match for riders on horseback. The enemy warriors formed a living shield around the woman and drew their swords — and Cador realized that it was none other than the Queen of Cerniw herself.

"Stand down," Ginevra commanded, her voice tired.

"What are you doing out here, Ginevra?" Cador asked.

She looked up at him, pushing back the hood of her cape, and in the silvery light, he saw that her right eye was blackened. "I had to get away."

"How did you get out?" he asked, more curious than anything else.

She shrugged. "We climbed down from the ramparts opposite a spot with no bonfire. Once we reached Arthur's army, we walked among your soldiers as if we belonged there. I think many were too tired to pay much attention."

Audacity and desperation — and carelessness on their own part. He wiped the rain out of his eyes and peered at her more closely. "Don't you have your son with you?"

"My son? Medraut killed my son."

Cador started at the words. What had happened to convince her that her new husband was responsible for Loholt's death? Or was she simply putting on an act in order to get a message out of Celliwig?

"I made a grave mistake," she added quietly. "No matter what you do with me, I beg you not to send me back to Medraut."

"What of Melou?" Cador asked. "The son you were so desperate to save a few weeks ago?"

"Melou is Medraut's son." Her voice was flat and without emotion.

Ginevra had never been known for her ability to disguise and dissemble; Cador was almost certain she really was running away and not sneaking out to do Medraut's bidding. But would Arthur see it that way? Could the Dux Bellorum even afford to think about his runaway wife right now? Cador made a quick decision, hoping he would not live to regret it, but he had to deal with the situation on his own.

"I am taking you and your men prisoner," he said. He motioned his warriors to tie up her personal guard. "You I will send to Dyn Tagell with two of my own men. Flavius, take her up on the saddle in front of you."

"Yes, Lord." The warrior reached a hand down to the Queen of Cerniw and pulled her up onto his horse.

"When you get to Dyn Tagell, give her into the custody of Queen Yseult."

Flavius nodded shortly, whirled his warhorse around, and rode north with his companion along a path parallel to the Camlann. Cador watched them go, wondering what he was going to tell Arthur.

"Come, we must return to the Dux Bellorum," he said to the rest of his men when the figures had disappeared in the distance.

By now, murky light was tingeing the edges of fields and forest, a mere suggestion of day. Cador had not slept since waking up the previous morning, and he did not feel up to what this day would bring.

Ahead, Arthur commanded to attack with the battering ram. It was not the time to tell his cousin that his former wife had escaped Celliwig and was on her way to Dyn Tagell. He dug his heels into his stallion's sides and galloped the rest of the way, his men following suit.

"Cador!" Arthur called out when he noticed them. "Help with the organization of the ladders when we storm the ramparts! Archers, try to take out the men aiming at the warriors with the battering ram!"

As murky dawn became murky day, Cador rode the ranks, assigning details of soldiers to the ladders, while others with more fingers crouched behind temporary walls of shields and tried to take out the defenders on top of the outer ring of earthworks. Cador had not yet relearned the bow and arrow with only two fingers on his left hand; that would take time and practice which he hadn't had.

The air was full of the sounds of war: the grunts from the men carrying the battering ram and loading the catapult; the crunch and crash against the outer door; the screams whenever an arrow found its mark. In places, grass was giving way to mud, and the gradual incline up to Celliwig was turning treacherous. The massive outer door held longer than they expected, and Medraut's archers on the ramparts killed and injured half a dozen men, those least protected by the roof of the battering ram. Too slow, their attack was coming along too slow. Even once the first gate gave way, there would still be the inner door. Why hadn't Arthur given the command to storm the ramparts? It would not be easy, certainly; while the outer earthworks did not present much of a hurdle, the wide ditch between that and the inner ramparts did, a perfect spot for archers above to pick off attacking warriors. Getting ladders up against the walls of stone and wood built on top to the inner embankment — that was where the danger lay. Nonetheless, the soldiers at the battering ram would be safer if the guards above were fighting for their lives and not just dodging the occasional arrow.