Grail pc-5 Read online

  What has become of Rhys? I wondered, thinking that he should have returned long ago.

  He and a small company of warriors had gone in search of water as soon as we halted our day's march. We were camped in a shallow valley, and there were streams in the surrounding hills. Finding water had become the chief task of each and every day; we did not neglect any possible means of filling the waterskins and jars. As we moved farther up the vale, the streams narrowed and thinned, and the search became more difficult. We had not located any drinking water this day, so Rhys had undertaken to continue looking.

  The rest of the Cymbrogi were nearby, having established camp at a second place on the hillside. We did this by way of guarding the Vandal host, yet allowing ourselves a ready retreat. For though they were no longer armed – their spears alone filled three wagons! – there were so many of them that we could easily be overrun. Thus, we always made two camps a short distance apart and kept watch through the night.

  'He will soon return,' Bedwyr assured me when I pointed out that it was well past dark and still no sign of Rhys and his company. 'Why uneasy, brother?'

  'How much water remains?' The Cymbrogi also stood guard over the water wagons, lest anyone try to steal another share.

  'One day at full rations,' he replied; he had already reckoned the amount. 'We could go on half rations, but I would rather wait until Rhys returns to make that decision.'

  I left him to his rest, and returned to the campfire feeling uneasy and troubled – though I could not think why. Perhaps I was merely tired. It seemed like years since I had slept more than two nights in the same place… years since I had slept without a weapon in my hand. Once Mercia and his folk were settled, I thought, we will begin to enjoy the peace we have all fought so long to achieve.

  A pale phantom moon rose and soared like a silent spectre over the narrow valley. I supped on something tough and tasteless – stewed saddle, perhaps – and finished the last of my day's ration of water. I retreated to the tent and lay down, but found the closeness inside stifling; so I took up the oxhide and stretched out on the ground a short distance away – whereupon I found I could not sleep for the barking of the camp dogs. I lay on my back with my arms folded over my chest, gazing up at the heavens, marking the slow progression of the moon, and wondering if the mutts were always so loud.

  I lay a long time before realizing that I was listening for Rhys' return. I identified all the night sounds of the camp -horses whickering and jittery at their pickets, the tight voices of the sentries as they moved along the boundary, the far-off call of a night bird in a distant tree – all familiar, yet made peculiar by my listening. Or perhaps it was something else – something in the air making them seem that way.

  I must have dozed without knowing it, for when I looked again, the moon was well down. I heard the short, sharp challenge of a sentry, and the expected reply. I rose at once and made my way to the picket line to see Rhys and his band dismounting. Some of the men swayed on their feet, exhausted by their long search.

  'Good hunting?' I called, hurrying to join them.

  Rhys turned when he heard me. The look on his face halted me in my steps. 'Rhys?'

  He tossed a quick command over his shoulder and then stepped near. 'We found a spring,' he said, his voice husky and strange. Perhaps it was merely fatigue, but I have seen terror often enough to recognize its many guises, and I thought Rhys wore it now.

  'A spring, yes,' I said, searching the steward's face for a sign. 'Good. Well done. Is it far?'

  He took my arm, wheeled me around, and started walking me away. When we were out of hearing of the men, he said, 'No, not far. The spring is not large, but it supplies a pool. We can get water there.' He paused, hesitating, uncertain how to proceed.

  'Rhys?'

  There is something queer…'

  'About the spring?'

  'Yes.'

  'You said it was not far -'

  'Indeed, it is just beyond the hill.' He lifted a hand, but the gesture died and he lapsed again into a hesitant silence.

  'Well?' I demanded, growing impatient with his reticence. 'Speak, man.'

  His reply was swift and harsh. 'I do not like it! Something queer is out there.' He glowered at me.

  'Calm yourself,' I said soothingly. 'Come to the tent. Sit down. You have not eaten anything all day. You must be starving. Come, Rhys.'

  I led him to the tent and sat him in Arthur's chair, then roused one of the younger men who served the Dragon Flight. 'Wake you, Baram,' I said. 'Rhys has returned. Fetch food and water.'

  Rhys sat slumped in the camp chair, his head bent forward, resting in his hands. I had never seen him so. 'Food is coming,' I said, dragging up a stool. Thinking to distract him from his thoughts, I began telling him about our talk with Mercia and Hergest. In a little while, Baram appeared with the food; I dismissed him to his rest once more, and served Rhys myself.

  When he finished eating, he seemed in better spirits, so I said, 'Now, then, tell me about this strange pool you have found.'

  Rhys nodded, took a long draught of water, swallowed slowly, and then began. 'We came upon it before sundown. It is no great distance from here, and we discovered it soon after we began. There is a rocky outcrop on the hillside, and a beech grove below. The leaves on the trees looked fresh – not wilted like all the rest – so we rode to the place for a closer look. The grove hides a cleft in the rocks – pass through it and you come to the pool.'

  Rhys' voice trailed off, as if he were revisiting a painful memory of long ago. His dark eyes were downcast and he clutched the empty water jar tightly.

  'A cool place to escape the sun,' I observed, encouraging him to continue. 'It must have been a welcome find.'

  He glanced at me and then away again quickly. 'We entered the grove and rode to the pool,' he said after a moment. 'I dismounted and heard a sound… singing – it sounded like someone singing, but though the grove and pool are small, I could not see anyone.' He fell silent again.

  'Hiding in the rocks, perhaps,' I remarked.

  He paid me no heed, but sat hunched forward, his jaw bulging as he clenched his teeth.

  'Rhys,' I said softly. 'Fear for nothing, man. It is Gwalchavad beside you now.'

  After a time, he said, 'I knelt to drink. I remember stretching forth my hand to touch the water…'

  'Yes? And then?'

  He raised his eyes and the fear leapt out in his glance. 'I do not know!' He stood abruptly. 'I reached towards the water and I – when I looked again, it was night and the moon was shining in the pool.'

  'Night comes quickly to these glens,' I offered halfheartedly. 'It must have been later than you knew.'

  'Am I a babe in arms to know nothing of day or night?' he shouted.

  'Calm yourself, brother. I only meant -'

  'I remember nothing of what happened in the grove. One moment it was bright day, and the next I knew, it was night -and that far gone.'

  I gazed at his anguished expression and tried to soothe him. 'Perhaps you fell asleep. It was hot and you had ridden long. You were tired, and it was cool in the shade. Overcome by your fatigue, you fell asleep, and why not? A little nap is no bad thing. The men with you, did any of them remember falling asleep?'

  'No – they remember no more than I,' he said, his voice tense with the effort of holding it steady. 'All I know is that the sun shone as I knelt, and when I stood again, the sky was bright with stars and night was far advanced. We returned at once.'

  'It is disturbing, perhaps,' I granted, 'but nothing to worry over. No doubt you make more of it than there is.'

  Rhys glared defiantly. 'It is sorcery!' he growled. 'Mark me, something evil lurks there.'

  I slept ill, rising at dawn to ride with Rhys to the enchanted pool. As he had said, it was no great distance away, lying in a narrow valley just a hill or two away from camp. A grove of beech trees stood at one end of the glen, dark in the shadow of the hillside. There were six men with us, leading the wagons, for I
was determined to have that water, enchantment or no.

  We dismounted at the edge of the grove and stood for a moment gazing into its dark-shadowed heart, as into a cave or tomb. It was quiet, but not unnaturally so.

  'Do you hear?" Rhys whispered.

  'It seems peaceful enough.'

  'Aye, too peaceful.' He arched an eyebrow knowingly. 'There are no birds.'

  'Well, it may be they have gone – ' I began.

  'And this the only water nearby?' he challenged. 'The dell should be alive with birds.'

  'Stop whispering!' I told him sharply. 'If there is anyone here, they will have seen us long ago. Come.' I started into the grove. 'Let us examine the pond.'

  Night's chill hung in the shaded depths of the grove – as if the sun's warming rays had no power to penetrate beyond the outer branches of the trees. We passed between the leaning boles and ducked under low-hanging limbs, and after a few steps came to the water. My eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light, and I saw that though the pool was not large, it was set in a deep, rock-rimmed bowl. I made my way to the water's edge and looked in, but could not see the bottom.

  A grey rock rose from the far end of the basin like a great squatting toad. I heard the slow rhythmic drip, drip, drip of water splashing from the rock into the dark water.

  'You see?" whispered Rhys. 'It is just as I told you.'

  'It is an unlovely place, to be sure,' I replied. 'But I find nothing amiss here.'

  'No,' he answered after a moment's silence. 'Nor do I. Whatever was here is gone now.' He turned pleading eyes to me. 'There was something.'

  'I believe you, brother.'

  He turned away, stricken afresh. 'I remember now – it was… it was – ' His jaw worked as he struggled for words. 'I was suffocating – as if a hand clenched my throat. I could not breathe. My lungs felt as if they would burst. I remember thinking I must breathe or I will die. And then… nothing -until I saw the moon's reflection there.' He pointed to the centre of the rock bowl and looked up through the branches of the trees as if he thought he might see the moon once more.

  I also raised my eyes and scanned the leafy bower above us. The branches of the close-grown trees wove a dense roof over the pool; not a scrap of blue sky showed through anywhere.

  Rhys shifted uneasily beside me. 'On my life, Gwalchavad,' he said softly, 'I thought it was the moon.' He paused. 'I saw something glowing in the water, I swear it!'

  'Did you say that you had tasted the water?' I asked and, kneeling, cupped my hand and dipped out some water. I raised it to my nose and sniffed, but could smell nothing unusual. I put my hand to my lips and wet my tongue. The water was warm and tasted slightly muddy, but not at all bad for that.

  'What say you?' Rhys watched me closely.

  'I have tasted worse,' I replied.

  Rhys squatted beside me and reached out to cup some water. As he did so, I observed a strange mark on the fleshy part of his upper arm. 'What is this?' I wondered. 'A wound?'

  The skin was broken and discoloured – pierced by what appeared to be small pricks at regular intervals.

  'It looks like a bite,' I remarked. 'An animal of some kind. A dog, perhaps?'

  Rhys looked stricken. 'I remember no bite.'

  'Well,' I said, 'it is not so bad. No doubt you have forgotten.'

  'Gwalchavad,' Rhys said, his voice thick, 'I would know if I were bitten by a dog.' He craned his neck and held his arm to look at the wound. 'I would remember.'

  Once, when I was but a lad, my brother, Gwalcmai, and I had found a cave and entered to find a sleeping bear. I still remember the awful sick dread that overwhelmed me as I heard the slow, snuffling breath, saw the black, shapeless mass of fur, and realized that we had stumbled into a death trap unawares.

  I felt the same feeling now: as if we had intruded on something better left undisturbed.

  Glancing around quickly, I stood. 'Let us fill the water casks and leave this place.'

  As soon as the wagons were loaded, we left the grove and hurried back to find that the Cymbrogi had struck camp and were ready to leave on another day's march. Seeing no good reason to tarry, Bedwyr called the order, and Rhys raised the hunting horn and blew a lengthy, rising blast to signal our departure. The long, disorderly ranks of Vandali began moving once more. I watched for a moment; then, steeling myself for another endless, scorching day in the saddle, I lifted the reins and rode on.

  THREE

  The only person I ever loved did not love me. I was young then and foolish, I know. I wielded not a fraction of the power I now possess, or things might have gone differently. The arrow was meant for my sister.

  Does that surprise you, my sweet? How so? Charis never spared a thought for me. She was already grown when I was born, and though we shared the same father, Avallach the Invalid never spoke two words to me in all the time I lived under his roof.

  The beloved Briseis was dead and cold in her grave long, long before my mother shared the great king's bed. He needed Lile; and it is true he would have died but for her healing skill. Avallach used her, depended on her, but he never loved her. Even in death Queen Briseis commanded Avallach's affections, and Lile the nursemaid was merely tolerated. Poor Lile, she wanted so to be his wife, and though he married her in the end, she was never more than his mistress.

  Even I, a barefoot grubby child with dirty hands and snotty nose, could see that my mother was insignificant, and in my infant heart I vowed never to allow myself to descend to insignificance.

  Oh, but I would look at Charis, so beautiful and strong. The sun in its glory was not more radiant and bright. I wanted nothing more in all the world than to be like her, to be her. When I saw the way my father looked at her, the way his eyes filled with love and admiration for his golden-haired daughter, I wanted it all the more. I would have given the world and everything in it just to have Avallach smile at me the way he smiled at her.

  He never did.

  At first, we harboured some small hope that the drought would slacken its hold the farther north we rode. That was not to be, however, for the hills beyond the Hafren Vale were just as dusty as those we had left behind, and the streambeds were just as dry. Nor did a single cloud ever darken the sky. From dawn to dusk the heavens remained empty, the sun rising and setting in a firmament of fiery white, like a ball of flame simmering in a lake of molten iron.

  I have heard of desert lands where rain falls but once a year, though I had never known Britain to suffer so for lack of rain. Searching for water to keep ourselves and the Vandal horde supplied became our sole occupation. Fortunately, there are springs in the central hills where we could refill our casks. If not for these founts deep in the earth, we might have died of thirst.

  Thus, with God's help, we were able to keep moving until reaching Afon Treont. Though the bracken on the hills was brown and tinder-dry, and the Treont was showing a wide band of cracked mud and lumpy stone along either bank, there was at least good water to be had in the long lake just to the north.

  There, we paused to rest for a few days. The animals could drink their fill from the shallows, but the better drinking water was farther out, beyond the green, stagnant pools; we had to use boats to get it – a labour which exhausted most of the day – and the warriors were far from pleased about the tedious occupation.

  'Ferrying water casks in coracles is like herding geese on the back of a pig,' declared Cai. He and Bedwyr stood on the bare rock shore watching the small round boats struggling with their loads.

  'I see it keeps your tongue wet,' observed Bedwyr sourly.

  'Only just,' replied Cai. He watched the tipsy boats for a moment, then said, 'I suppose we must be moving on again soon.'

  'Nay,' Bedwyr replied. 'I am thinking we will stay here.'

  'But Arthur said -'

  'I know what Arthur said,' declared Bedwyr edgily. 'But he could not know how hard it is to keep these people fed and watered.'

  'Rheged is still some way to the north,' Cai pointed out, rubb
ing his whiskered chin.

  'And I am thinking this is far enough!' Bedwyr growled. 'God love you, Cai, but you do know how to fret a man.'

  The flame-haired Cai shouldered the affront with placid acceptance. 'I merely suggest -'

  'With this damnable drought, there will be no harvest in Rheged or anywhere else,' Bedwyr explained sharply. 'Why go all the way to Rheged when they can just as easily starve here?' Indicating the dark-wooded hills beyond the lake, he said, 'At least here they can get water and whatever can be had from the forest.'

  'I see your point,' replied Cai.

  'You do?' asked Bedwyr suspiciously.

  'It is a good plan – as good as any other.'

  'Also, the settlements hereabouts are not so many that the folk will be hard pressed by the Vandali,' said Bedwyr, continuing his argument.

  'Enough! I said it was a good plan. The sooner we settle these… these people, the sooner we can head south. I am anxious for word of Arthur.'

  'And I am not?' demanded Bedwyr. 'You are the only one eager for word of Arthur, I suppose?'

  'If it is a fight you are wanting,' Cai answered gruffly, 'go argue with Rhys – no doubt he will oblige. Two of a kind, the both of you.'

  Bedwyr flared, but held his tongue. He gave Cai a dark, smouldering look and stormed away, grumbling to himself. Cai watched him stumping along the lakeshore. 'And take your temper with you!' he called at Bedwyr's retreating back.

  I saw what had happened. 'Do not be angry with him,' I said, moving to Cai's side.

  'Am I angry?' he shouted. 'Am I the one biting the head off anyone who happens by? Anyway, he started it – him and his foul mood.'

  'The heat,' I suggested, 'is making everyone surly.'

  'Och,' agreed Cai, clucking his tongue. 'By the Holy Three, I wish it would rain.' He turned a clear blue eye towards a sky just as clear and blue. 'Just look at that, would you? Not a cloud anywhere – not a single cloud all summer. It is uncanny, I tell you.' He drew a damp sleeve across his face. 'It is too hot to stand out here any longer. I am going back.'