Warriors of Camlann (11 page)

She laughed, a laugh not too far from hysteria. Even reading her mind Dan did not understand Ursula, but he no longer worried about the coming fight. He'd bet on Boar Skull against all comers.

Three men offered to fight her in turn within the arena formed of Duke Arturus's soldiers. The first man was a heavily muscled tribesman who, unusually it seemed, still sported tribal tattoos. He was of the Deceangli, a tough people. Ursula disarmed him quickly enough and when he continued to charge at her, hoping to use his strength against her, she rugby-tackled him and finished the contest straddling his chest with Bright Killer held against his throat. He conceded ruefully to loud barracking from his friends. Ursula spoke to him in his own language and told him not to underestimate women. He was almost as startled by that as by his defeat.

The second challenger was a smaller man, named
Viridias. He had the compact build and economical moves of a born fighter. That contest lasted longer, but again Ursula disarmed him and this time he conceded at once. He had quite a reputation in Arturus's force and when he bowed to her in courtesy at his defeat, the men grew silent. Dan saw him shaking his head at his fellow soldiers; he knew he'd met his match.

The third man, Quiriac, was a giant, at least as tall as Ursula herself and built like Kai, their friend from Macsen's world on whom Ursula had modelled herself as Boar Skull. He had a Combrogi weapon and wielded it as Ursula held Bright Killer in the three-fingered grip of the tribesmen. Betting started in earnest. Quiriac was supposedly the best fighter in Arturus's army. Ursula was tiring. She took a goblet of water from one of Arturus's men, drank some, and poured the rest over her head.

Quiriac was a worthy opponent. He did not waste time circling her. The makeshift arena rang to the clash of Celtic sword against Celtic sword. Ursula's height was no advantage here and her opponent's sword was as long as Bright Killer. Ursula's concentration was total. She could not disarm him; he was too good for that. She raised the sword as if to slice down with all her strength and as Quiriac lifted his sword to parry the blow, she suddenly twisted the blade and slashed sideways so that the cutting edge sliced against his torso. She stopped
the blade before it bit too deep, but it could have been a fatal attack. Quiriac conceded defeat and Ursula's reputation was assured.

Breathing hard she approached Duke Arturus.

Dan was startled to hear her voice in his mind.
‘Do you want to wield Bright Killer again, Dan, or can I pledge it to this Arturus?'

Reluctantly, he replied. ‘
I do not want to kill with it again, Ursula, it's yours – pledge it.'

It seemed to Dan the right thing to do. Arturus's men banged their spears on the ground so that the earth seemed to shake to their rhythm. They stopped as Ursula started to speak:

‘Duke Arturus, I trust I have proved to you that Taliesin does not lie. I am Boar Skull and I am a Combrogi warrior and I offer you my sword at your service if that is what you will.'

The spear banging started again with even more enthusiasm. Dan was surprised to see a scowl on Taliesin's face.

‘Forgive my mistrust, Lady Boar Skull. You have indeed proved yourself a warrior of surpassing skill. Larcius tells me that you tore this sword from a great pyre of stones from which no man could release it. It is a magical sword indeed.'

Ursula quickly grasped what Arturus intended.

‘Duke Arturus, it is a great Combrogi blade worthy of
a man willing to bear it to unite Britannia, the Island of the Mighty, against her enemies. Take it as a gift and a pledge of my service.'

The spear thumping became maniacal as Arturus raised the sword to the sky.

‘I name this sword, torn from the very rock of this land, the sword from the stone, given in our country's hour of direst need:
Caliburn
.'

Dan felt a shiver run down his spine as he heard the name; there was something familiar about the name ‘Caliburn'. More than that, the powerful image of a sword being lifted from the stone suggested a conclusion so obvious it was ridiculous.

‘
Ursula, I've just remembered “Caliburn” was another name for the sword in the Arthur legend – you know, Excalibur. You don't think …?
' he tailed off and Ursula's incredulous mental voice finished the idea.

‘You don't think Duke Arturus could be Arthur do you? He couldn't be!
'

Dan tried to speak to Taliesin but Duke Arturus, having proclaimed the day a feast day, swept him off somewhere. Dan could sense that Taliesin was in some way disappointed with what had occurred in the amphitheatre. As it was inconceivable that he would have wished Ursula to lose, Dan gathered that the bard's dissatisfaction had something to do with the sword.

Bryn, Dan and Ursula were shown to their lodgings in an inn by one of the War Duke's retinue. It was a ramshackle-looking place, close to Arturus's villa in the main town. Duke Arturus sent his deepest apologies, apparently, but all the rooms in his villa were already filled with high-ranking visitors from throughout the Combrogi territories, preparing to choose a replacement for Ambrosius as High King. It would not be politic, Arturus's messenger announced gravely, to request that such guests be moved to less prestigious accommodation. But as a sign of the esteem and honour
in which Arturus held them he had sent them precious gifts and the messenger himself would assist them in dressing should they have need of him.

The inn keeper was a short broad woman, more concerned with sorting out barrels of ale for the feast than with them. She treated Bryn like one of her many children, forcefully persuading him to wash and change before allowing him to check on Braveheart in the stables. She left Dan and Ursula alone.

They sat hunched by the fire on low wooden stools. Arturus seemed to have no urgent need for them before the feast and Taliesin had not appeared, as Dan had half expected, to speak to Ursula or comment on what she had done. Ursula was chewing thoughtfully on some bread the innkeeper had given them. It was tough and adulterated with hard lumps of something she'd rather not think about, but the fights had made her hungry. She spoke unselfconsciously, with her mouth full.

‘I don't understand how Duke Arturus could be our Arthur of legend. I don't think I even like him much and he looks wrong. Shouldn't there be a fine castle, Camelot, and a wizard called Merlin and—?' Ursula stopped, irritated. She did not want her idea of a mythical Arthur to be no more than a rather cold, cross young man in a patched robe.

‘But think about it!' Dan launched his theory with conviction. ‘This place – Camulodunum Bedewyr called
it but I heard some of the soldiers refer to it as the Fort of Camulos. Well, that could be Camelot, couldn't it? You've got to admit it sounds like it and then, well, I have heard Taliesin called Merlin – I'd almost forgotten with everything else that's gone on. Medraut called him merlin-man and Frontalis called him Merlin, and I'm sure Caliburn is another version of the name Excalibur, and you've got to admit Arthur is just a modern version of Arturus.'

‘But he's a king in the stories, not a miserable duke.' Ursula was scowling. She did not want to believe it. ‘And there wasn't a Boar Skull in the stories or a Dan or an Ursula,' she added triumphantly.

‘No, but I think there was a Gawain.'

Ursula looked at him curiously.

‘It's the name Bedewyr gave me when I couldn't remember my real name – anyway, I think Arturus could be appointed High King. Didn't you realise? That's why so many people are here.'

‘I don't know, Dan, it makes my head ache thinking about it.' Ursula sighed her dissatisfaction. ‘It doesn't matter anyway, does it? If what you said about Taliesin is true and he can't raise the Veil, and neither can I, unless we can persuade Rhonwen to do us a favour and raise it for us, we're stuck here with him whoever he is. And I've pledged myself to his service.' She looked suddenly exhausted. ‘I'm cold and fed up of not having
proper clothes to wear and this bread's awful and I don't want to be a bloody hero and I ache all over.'

The inn's Roman heating system no longer worked and the fire, which replaced it, smoked badly and was not up to the task of heating the large main room. Dan put his arm round her in comradely fashion and felt her tense. He spoke before he thought.

‘Come here, I'll warm you up!' He said it lightly and meant it innocently, but Ursula looked startled. He felt her discomfort and flushed.

‘I meant, you could share my cloak.'

Ursula had jumped awkwardly to her feet, her embarrassment showing through her attempt to sound casual and unconcerned. He knew she did not want to offend him.

‘Thanks, but I think I'll try and use the bathhouse and get warm there. I should change – I think Arturus's gifts are probably clean clothes and stuff.'

She was gabbling as Ursula rarely did.

Dan tried to adopt the same friendly tone of voice. ‘I'm sure Arturus will send a woman to help you.'

She would need assistance to strap on Arturus's gift of armour and though he'd helped her when they had trained together in Macsen's land he knew he couldn't do that anymore.

‘I'll see you at the feast, then!'

As she left he swore inventively under his breath and
squirmed internally. He didn't know quite when it happened but he found himself – well – he found that he fancied Ursula. It didn't seem right; she was the best friend he'd ever had, Boar Skull, his comrade in arms. He was closer to her than he'd been to anyone and now, of all times, he had to start noticing how beautiful she was. He didn't want her to know; he was sure she didn't feel the same way – yet how could he hide his feelings from someone who could sometimes read his mind? He struggled to his feet, stumbling over his long priestly robe, and tried to excise the embarrassing moment from his thoughts.

Dan tried to decide whether or not to wear the gifts that Arturus had sent. They were soldier's clothes and he had the strong feeling that Arturus had granted him great honour by offering these garments. They were largely of Roman manufacture and of a quality absent from the cruder garments that many of the men wore. They felt old and valuable. There was a felt shirt, a soft woollen tunic and a shirt of silvered scale armour. It was much polished and showed not the slightest sign of tarnish. There was an elaborately decorated belt, not as finely made as his scabbard, but of good, well-cured, dark leather and an elaborate silver buckle. There were long, soft, woollen trousers dyed a deep red colour, dark leather pointed boots with a strong sole, and a thick, blue cloak with a large and heavy gold brooch in the
shape of a crossbow. There was also a spectacular heavy, crested, silver helmet, decorated with huge coloured-glass stones. Dan was tempted by the splendour of it all. He was vain enough to know that he could not fail to look suitably heroic in such a costume, that it might impress Ursula, but it would only be a costume; he was not the Bear Sark any more. He dressed himself in the tunic, belt and leggings; the pointed boots were too small for his size ten-and-a-half feet. Then, with a slight pang of regret he put on Taliesin's grey cloak and his empty Celtic scabbard and walked alone to Arturus's villa.

The first person he saw was Ursula. It took him a moment to recognise her because she was dressed as a Roman, complete with gilded helmet and fine-linked chain mail. She looked magnificent. Arturus had obviously decided that if she fought like a man she should dress like one. She gave Dan an embarrassed grin.

‘You didn't put your stuff on?' she said accusingly.

‘Nah, it didn't seem right.'

‘This helmet is really heavy and so is the mail shirt. I feel a right nerd. I don't think I can keep it on for long.'

‘I think you should, you look like Taliesin's hero.'

‘But why won't you wear yours?'

‘I'm not a berserker any more, Ursula, and I can't fight when I know how it feels to be my own victim. You do understand don't you?'

‘Not really, I mean, you can fight without being a berserker. I heard that you beat a horde of Aenglisc. Bedewyr told everyone in Camulodunum about that.'

‘It just doesn't feel right.'

Ursula saw Dan's pained expression. His face was more strained than she'd ever seen it. His eyes had a haunted look. She had once been terrified of his berserker madness, but now she missed that capacity in him. Even without her magical perceptions she knew it was gone and that what he was going through now was every bit as frightening for him as his madness had once been. He had told her about his new gift of empathy; she was not sure it was a gift at all. She wondered if he could feel her own conflicting emotions. She wanted him by her side, Bright Killer in his hand, making everything safe for her. There had been a kind of security in the knowledge of his killing power. In a world where she had already faced death more than once such knowledge was comforting. In Macsen's world he had been her anchor in an alien land. Here, he was so unlike himself, so uncertain in his plain druidic robes. She was worried about him. She put her hand to his shoulder as if she were still Boar Skull.

‘Dan, I don't have to understand. If you say you don't want to fight anymore that's enough for me. I know you're no coward. We're in this together, right?'

He grasped her arm, Combrogi fashion, relieved
beyond belief that she had chosen this moment to reassure him. He felt nervous without his sword, diminished, less a man, in a place where battle skills seemed as important as ever they had been to Macsen's Combrogi. He smiled.

‘I don't know what you've committed us to with all that pledging, Ursula. We'd better go and find out.'

Dan removed his arm from hers, quickly, so there could be no misunderstanding and the two of them walked together, comrades once more, towards the soldiers guarding the villa.