Veneficus: Stones of the Chosen (17 page)

“I come with Twilight, my tyro veneficus. We have much to discuss with you.”

Godwinson nodded an acknowledgment at the boy.

“If it’s about that northern snake Penda and his marauding army and wolf packs then I welcome your presence here. We have heard of his sacking of the settlement at Malmesbury and the torching of the great Savernake. As we speak he is heading this way.”

They walked slowly across the courtyard. All around them men bustled and loaded horses and carts in preparation for leaving.

“You are leaving the castle?” Twilight spoke for the first time.

Gawain Godwinson looked down at him. “We have no choice. Penda has a trained army of many thousands, and we are a mere two hundred and eighty strong. Even the walls of this great fortress cannot hold out for long against those odds. We would be slaughtered within hours.”

They entered the castle through a heavily studded door and into a large hall. The walls were crisscrossed with arms and armor of all sorts and brightly colored battle standards.

Merlin walked around the wall, nodding in recognition at the display of heraldry. He pointed to a bright red and gold standard hanging from a pair of crossed lances.

“The pennant of Colcrin, the Saxon leader against whom Arthur had many battles, most of them victorious. This was taken at the battle of the Castle of Guinnon.”

He walked to the next one, a purple and gold pennant draped over a black shield quartered in silver.

“The battle of the Mountain of Agned against Colcrin’s brother, Baldulf.”

He stopped for a long moment in front of the next one, a pennant of bright silver depicting a fierce bear’s head with bared teeth.

“The pennant of Gillamuri, the Irish Gael king whom Arthur fought twice, once on these shores and once in Ireland. Both times victory was Arthur’s.”

His long, bony finger moved to the next one, a large shield with a blue lightning strike across a white background decorated with yellow stars.

“The shield of Cedric, taken from his dead body at the battle of Caer Fadon.”

Moving around he continued to point at each set of heraldic battle standards.

“The battle of the City of Legions, also known as Caeleon, the battle of Badon Hill, Basingwerk, Caledonia, the River Tribuit, and …” He paused, his finger trembling in the direction of a display given pride of place above a huge open fireplace. It consisted of a mighty sword and lance crossed against a large golden shield quartered with a red cross in the top right alongside a heraldic griffin over a castle and an eagle’s head. “Arthur’s very own insignia and weapons.”

Godwinson nodded at the display and spoke for the first time since they had entered the great hall.

“The sword, as everyone knows thanks to you, was called Excalibur. Arthur called the shield Gwenn and the lance the Spear of Command.”

“And your father fought alongside Arthur at all of those battles?” asked a wide-eyed Twilight.

Godwinson looked down at the boy and then pointed to a huge round oak table in one corner of the hall.

“As did the other eleven knights and the counselor here who sat around that table.”

Twilight walked over to the huge table of circular oak and, brushing his fingers over the high chair backs, slowly walked around the fourteen places.

“The settlement campfires of Wessex abound with the stories of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table,” he whispered reverently. “And this is where they sat?”

Godwinson nodded. The boy turned to Merlin.

“Where was your place?”

The long magus indicated a slightly taller chair than the rest.

“That was Arthur’s seat and mine was here.”

He placed his hands on the chair to the right of Arthur’s. “Sir Galahad sat here.” He carried on around the table, tapping each chair. “Sir Lancelot du Lac, Sir Percivale, Sir Tristam de Lyones, Sir Bedivere, Sir Beoberis, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Safer, Sir Kay, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Brunor le Noir, and, completing the circle next to me, this young man’s father, Sir Gawain Godwinson.”

Twilight’s lips moved as he silently repeated the mighty names of the most famous and courageous knights in all of history.

“King Arthur was very keen on Orders of Chivalry,” said Godwinson. “This Round Table was the highest order, but he established others. Next in line were the Queen’s Knights, followed by the Knights of the Watch, then the Table of Errant Companions, and finally the Table of Less-Valued Knights. He wanted every knight to work his way through each order to the top. He was also known as the Grail King. The Holy Grail is a Christian talisman held in very high esteem. My father and Sir Lancelot were Grail knights,” Godwinson continued reverently.

“Which meant that they bore a special responsibility for the

protection of the Holy Grail.”

Twilight turned to the long magus.

“Were all the knights Christians?”

“On the surface, yes, to please Arthur, who was a devout convert and one of that faith’s most ardent followers, but perhaps deeper down one or two of them held more pagan beliefs.”

Did you subscribe to the Christian faith in those days?

Twilight reverted to direct mind-speech.

I did not, nor any other faith, then as now. That is not to say that a veneficus should be a heretic or neutral on such matters. The holder of the enchantments can worship any faith or sect he or she desires. Most sects, however, particularly those of a Christian persuasion, are concerned with the final destination of the soul. The Wessex veneficus and, no doubt, others in possession of the Equinoctial mandate in other lands know what happens to the soul and therefore do not require a faith to confirm it. That is why I preferred to study the wisdom and learning of the ancient Greeks rather than one of the many religions that abound.

Unaware that the boy and Merlin were conversing in mind-speak the young knight looked boldly at the long magus.

“We get many visitors, some of them from foreign lands. All are seeking the same thing.”

The long magus chuckled. “You mean Grail seekers,” he said. “Still trying to resurrect the old myth that whosoever finds it shall have the power to resurrect Arthur to his former glory. What do you tell such visitors?”

“That the resurrection is a myth, no more or less, and that as far as the present whereabouts of the Grail is concerned, I have absolutely no idea, which is partly the truth. My father always maintained that following Arthur’s death after the battle of Camlan against his cousin Mordred - who also died in the battle and, incidentally, sat at this table before he and Arthur became mortal enemies over the hand of Guinevere and the throne - the whereabouts and safekeeping of the Grail was

vested in one man …”

He looked at Merlin keenly with one eyebrow raised.

“By the three faces of the Celtic Goddess I do believe you mean me!” exclaimed the long magus emphatically. He stroked his beard before adopting a conspiratorial tone. “One of the great mysteries of the Grail is just what is it. Some believe it to be a golden chalice that held drops of blood from the crucified Nazarene, the leader of the Christian sect I told you about earlier. Others believe it to be a casket containing the remains of his wife, Mary Magdalene, and still others take it to be ancient scrolls describing religious history. Due to the enchantments and the ability to spirit things away to places where they will never be found, the resident veneficus of Wessex gets many artifacts, icons, and relics to safeguard. If the Grail is one of these items, you, my little skirmisher, will know all the answers in time.”

He smiled down at the perplexed look on Twilight’s face.

“And I,” said Godwinson, “will never know.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, my young knight. This boy is going to need all the help he can get in the future. Now, enough of such earthshine, we have far more important matters to discuss in the shape of Penda and the wolf-woman. Shall we sit at this famous table and make our plans?”

He pulled out his old chair to the right of Arthur’s. Godwinson took the next chair, which was previously occupied by his father.

“Which one should I sit in?” asked Twilight.

“This one here on my left,” said Merlin, indicating the largest chair of them all.

“King Arthur’s!” exclaimed the boy. “You want me to sit in the famous seat of the mighty battle leader,
Dux Bellorum
, himself?”

“Of course.” The long magus smiled. “You will be at the heart of the Wessex fight for its Celtic identity for the next eighty-seven years, so you might as well get used to it.”

When, two hours later, Godwinson, the long magus, and the boy emerged from the great hall of Cadbury Castle into the courtyard, a somber sight greeted them. All activity by Godwinson’s men had ceased, and they stood around muttering and gesturing toward the long line of pica perched around the castellations. To them the presence of so many devil birds was an ill omen. At the appearance of their liege-lord the assembled birds showed their right claws in salutation and began to nod their heads and ruffle their feathers.

Taken by surprise Twilight hesitated.

“Odora lupes vis,”
whispered Merlin to Godwinson. “I smell the scent of wolves.”

Recovering his composure Twilight returned the salutation. A pair of birds flew down to the ground at his feet, and he went to his knees to receive them.

Taking turns, the birds chitted their story. Thanking them and waving them back, Twilight turned to the long magus with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“The wolf-woman has destroyed forty pairs of pica. She used a false fledgling with its foot caught securely in bramble. Its plaintive cries attracted a number of pica pairs to the location. As they tried to free the fledgling they were suddenly swept up into a net. This happened six times in different locations until she had trapped forty pairs.”

“One pair for each of the wolves she lost when we poisoned the carcasses,” said the long magus quietly.

Twilight continued between sobs.

“The nets were taken to the camp and emptied into a larger net. Then, with thousands of soldiers cheering and shouting she released ten wolves led by an old, white-footed pack leader into the net. It was carnage. Unable to fly the birds were torn to pieces.”

The long magus gestured toward the birds lining the castle walls.

“They will be frightened and in need of reassurance. It is at times like this that they really need their liege-lord. I believe you are strong enough to provide the succor they require. Share

their grief, but do not show any fear.”

“I will speak to them now.”

Wiping the tears from his face, the boy walked toward the far end of the castle keep where it was quiet, waving his birds to follow him. With the pica settled on the ground around him, he began to talk in a quiet but firm voice.

Merlin indicated the burial mound of Godwinson’s parents under the small oak tree in the corner of the courtyard.

“That will be desecrated when Penda and the wolf-woman get here. Would you like me to remove it for now and replace it at a later time when this threat has been dealt with?”

Godwinson reflected for a moment.

“Their caskets will be safe?”

“Yes. We will be the only ones who know what has happened to their remains. At the appropriate time the mound with the caskets in it and the tree will be replaced exactly as it is now.”

“Then I would be most grateful for your assistance.”

Merlin’s eyes took on a deep, iridescent green, and the burial mound and small oak tree were no more.

The men standing around the courtyard drew back and put their hands to their faces in surprise as the mound and tree disappeared.

“What about the battle standards and heraldry adorning the walls of the great hall and the Round Table?”

The long magus smiled down at the young knight. “Leave them. They will serve as a real reminder that she is not dealing with a novice when it comes to the art of warfare. Destroying birds is one thing, but it’s an altogether different matter when facing a tried and tested campaigner such as I. Also, you and your men. She will soon know all about your courageous lineage. Another little worry for the left-handed wolf-woman. If the sight of such trophies causes her and her king to fly into a rage and they are destroyed, then so be it. In truth they are but artifacts of the past, and we must set our eyes firmly on the present. Now, my young knight, it’s time for you to rise to the great heights achieved by your father and assist me and the boy in defeating this odious challenge to our Celtic heartland. It’s away to the Cheddar Catacombs for you and your men, and remember, adopt the tactics of the guerilla brigands. Penda will have to send raiding parties out from this castle, and my guess is they will be around five hundred strong with two or three wolf packs as outriders. Split your forces into lightly armed units of fifty or so men and ambush and attack swiftly. Withdraw before Penda’s men can organize themselves. Sniper bowmen hunting in twos and threes, picking off random soldiers and wolves, then melting into the ground. Loosened trees falling on supply wagons, sawn-through bridges collapsing under the feet of their columns, smokescreens, night marauding, burning tents, poisons, rock avalanches. Frustrate, harry, and panic them. Then they will make mistakes. And always remember the wolves circling on the outer margins, especially here at the castle, for she will keep them outside the walls as a first line of defense and warning system. In the meantime the boy and I and our birds will be doing likewise. In order that we are in full communication at all times I am assigning two of my best hawks to you. Should you wish to meet clandestinely, a note in one of their talons will be with me in no time at all for we will never be far away.”