Stones Of Power - The Last Sword Of Power Part 5

On the cliff-top Agwaine had found the butchered hounds. Turning, he ran back to warn his brother that Cormac was now armed; then he and Lennox retreated back along the trail, finding the other bodies.

Together the survivors fled the woods. Cormac emerged from the trees to see them sprinting back into the valley.

At first he thought to chase them to the Great Hall itself, but common sense prevailed and, his anger ebbing, he returned to the Cave. Grysstha had propped himself against the western wall; his white beard was stained with his blood, his face pale and grey.

As Cormac knelt beside the old man, taking his hand, Grysstha's eyes opened.

'I can see the Valkyrie, Cormac,' he whispered, 'but they ignore me, for I have no sword.'

'Here,' said the boy, pushing the ivory hilt into the warrior's left hand.

'Do not ... do not . . . tell anyone . . . about your birth.' Grysstha slid sideways to the ground, the sword slipping from his fingers.

For a while Cormac sat in silence with the body of his only friend. Then he stood and wandered into the sunlight, staring down at the village far below.

He wanted to scream his anger to the skies, but he did not. One of Grysstha's sayings sprang to his mind: Revenge is a better meal when served cold.

Sheathing the sword in his belt, he gathered Grysstha's possessions and set off for the east.

At the top of the last rise he turned once more.

'I will return,' he said softly. 'And then you will see the Demon, I swear it!'

CHAPTER THREE.

Prasamaccus stretched out his legs before the log-fire in the grate and sipped the honeyed wine. His daughter, Adriana, offered a goblet to Ursus who accepted it with a dazzling smile.

'Do not waste your charm,' said Prasamaccus. 'Adriana is betrothed to the herdsman's son, Gryll.'

'Are they in love?'

'Why ask me? Adriana is standing here.'

'Of course. My apologies, my lady.'

'You must forgive my father,' she said, her voice deep and husky. 'He forgets that the customs of his guests are rarely like his own. Are women still bought and sold by the Sicambrians?'

'That is somewhat harsh. Dowries are paid to prospective husbands - but then that is still the case in Uthei's Britain, is it not? And a woman is servant to her husband. All religions agree on this.'

'My father told Gryll there would be no dowry. And we will be wed at the Midwinter Feast.'

'And are you in love?'

'Yes, very much.'

'But no dowry?'

'I think Father will relent. He has too much money already. And now, if you will excuse me I am very tired.'

Ursus stood and bowed as Adriana kissed Prasamaccus' bearded cheek and left the room.

'She is a good girl, but she must think I'm growing senile! She will slip out through the yard and meet Gryll by the stables. How is your wine?'

'A little sweet for my taste.'

Prasamaccus leaned forward, tossing a log to the fire. 'Honey aids the mind and clears the stomach. It also wards off evil spirits.'

Ursus chuckled. 'I thought that was bitter onions?'

"Those too,' agreed the Brigante. 'And mistletoe, and black dogs with white noses.'

'I think you have drunk a little too much wine, my friend.'

'It is a fault of mine on lonely evenings. You know, I was with the King before he was the King - when he was a hunted boy in the mountains and he crossed the Valley of Death to another world. I was young then. I watched him become a man; I watched him fall in love and I watched his great heart slowly die. He was always a man of iron will. But now that is all he has left: the iron. The heart is dead.' 'His wife, you mean?'

'The lovely Laitha. Gian Avur, Fawn of the Forest.'

'I understand the Song is forbidden here. I suppose it is understandable; a king cuckolded by a relative, betrayed by a friend.'

"There was more to it than that, Ursus. Far more. There always is. Culain lach Feragh was a warrior without peer, and a man of great honour. But his weakness was that he lived without love. Laitha was raised by him and she had loved him since a child, but they were doomed.'

'You speak as if man has no choices.'

'Sometimes he does not. Culain would have died before hurting Uther or Gian, but the King knew that his wife had always loved Culain and evil thoughts grew in him like a dry gra.s.s fire. He was always on some mission of war and he took to living with the army. He rarely spoke to Gian and appointed Culain as her champion. He forced them together, and finally they gave in to their desires.'

'How did he find out?'

'It was an open secret and the lovers grew careless. They would be seen touching hands, walking arm-in-arm in the gardens. And Culain often visited the Queen's apartments late in the night, emerging at dawn. One night the King's Guards burst into the Queen's bedchamber and Culain was there. They were dragged before the King, who sentenced them both to death. But Culain escaped, .three days later he attacked the party taking the Queen to the scaffold and they got away.'

'But that is not the end of the story?'

'No. Would that it were.' Prasamaccus lapsed into silence, his head tipping back to rest on the high back of the chair. The goblet slipped from his fingers to the rug and Ursus scooped it up before the wine could stain the goatskin. Then the prince smiled and stood.

There was a blanket draped across a stool by the bedroom door. He took it and covered Prasamaccus, then entered his own room.

Adriana smiled and pulled back the blankets. Slipping from his clothes he joined her, stroking the golden hair back from her face.

Her arm circled his neck, drawing him down.

Ursus washed in the barrel of cold water at the back of the lodge, enjoying the crispness of the dawn air on his naked skin. His sleep had been untroubled by dreams and the future was filled with the promise of gold. If the King of Legend adopted his horse-armour, all other fighting monarchs would follow and Ursus would retire to a palace in the Great River Valley with a score of concubines.

At twenty, Ursus had his future clearly mapped out. Although of the House of Merovee, he and Balan were but distant relatives of Meroveus and had no claim to the crown of the Long-Haired Kings. And the life of a soldier offered no delights to a man who had spent his youth in the pleasure palaces of Tingis.

He scrubbed himself dry with a soft woollen towel and donned a fresh black shirt under his oiled jerkin. From a small leather flask he poured a few drops of perfume to his palm, which he spread through his long dark hair. The stink of the stables was galling and he wandered to the open fields, enjoying the scent of the wild roses growing by the ancient circle of standing stones.

Prasamaccus joined him. The older man seemed nervous.

'What is wrong, my friend?' asked Ursus, sitting on the flat-topped altar stone.

'I drank like an old fool and now there is a hammer inside my head.'

'Too much honey,' said Ursus, trying not to smile.

'And too loose a tongue. I should not have spoken so about the King and his business.'

'Put your fears at rest, Prasamaccus; I cannot remember any of it. The wine went straight to my head also. As far as I recall, you spoke of Lord Uther as the finest king in Christendom.'

Prasamaccus grinned. 'Which he is. Thank you, Ursus.'

Ursus said nothing. He was staring at the ragged line of armed men cresting the far hills. 'I do hope they are ours,' he whispered. Prasamaccus shielded his eyes, then swore. Pushing himself to his feet the older man hobbled towards the house, shouting at the top of his voice and pointing to the now charging line. Herdsmen and horse-handlers came running from the stables with bows in hand while the twenty regular legionaries, armed with swords and shields, formed a fighting line in the yard before the house. Ursus sprinted back to his room to gather his own bow and quiver. Adriana was crouching below the main window.

'Who are they?' asked Ursus, as the riders neared.'

Trinovante tribesmen,' she said.

An arrow flashed through the open window, slamming into the door-frame across the room. Ursus stepped back from view, notching an arrow to his bow.

The hors.e.m.e.n thundered into the yard, leaping from their mounts to engage the legionaries. Outnumbered four to one the line gave way, the garishly clad tribesmen hacking and cutting a path towards the house.

Ursus risked a glance through the window as a warrior with a braided beard leapt for the opening. Dragging back on the bowstring he released the shaft to slice into the tribesman's throat and the man fell back.

'I think we should leave,' said Ursus, seizing Adriana by the hand and hauling her to her feet. The door burst inwards and three warriors entered the room, swords red with the blood of the fallen legionaries.

'I hope the thought of ransom has occurred to you,'.said Ursus, dropping the bow and spreading his arms wide.

'Kill him!' ordered a tall dark-haired warrior with a fading scar on his cheek.

'I am worth quite a lot ... in gold!' said the prince, backing away.

The warriors advanced. Ursus stepped forward, twisted on the ball of his foot and leapt, his right heel cracking against a warrior's chin and somersaulting the man into his companion. The prince landed lightly, diving to his right to avoid a slashing cut from Scarf ace. Then rolling to his feet, he ducked under a second sweep and drove his fingers up under the tribesman's breastbone. The man gasped, his face turning crimson . . . then he fell. Ursus scooped up the fallen man's sword and plunged it through the chest of the first warrior, who had started to rise. Adriana hit the third man with a stool knocking him from his feet.

A trumpet blast echoed outside and the thunder of hooves followed. Ursus ran to the window to see Uther, Victorinus and a full century of mounted legionaries hammering into the bewildered tribesmen. Many of the Trinovantes threw down their weapons, but they were slain out of hand.

Within a few minutes the battle was over, the bodies being dragged from the yard.

The King entered the house, his pale eyes gleaming, all weariness gone from him.

'Where is Prasamaccus?' he asked, stepping over the bodies. The warrior hit by Adriana groaned and tried to stand. Uther spun, his great sword cleaving the man's neck. The head rolled to rest against the wall, the body slumping to pump blood to the floor. Adriana looked away. 'I said, where is Prasamaccus?' 'Here, my lord,' said the cripple, stepping into view from the back room. Tarn unharmed.' The King relaxed, grinning boyishly. 'I am sorry we were not here sooner.' He moved to the window. 'Victorinus! There are three more in here!'

A group of legionaries entered the lodge, dragging the bodies out into the sunshine.

Uther sheathed his sword and sat. 'You did well, Ursus. You fight as well as you talk.'

'Fortune favoured me, sire, and Adriana downed one with a stool.'

'Hardly surprising; she comes from fine stock.'

Adriana curtseyed and then moved to the cupboard, fetching the King a goblet and filling it with apple juice from a stone jug. Uther drank deeply.

'You will be safe now. Gwalchmai has isolated the main band and by tonight there will be not one rebel Trinovante alive from here to Combretovium.'

'Are your subjects always this unruly?' asked Ursus and a flash of annoyance showed on the King's face.

'We British do not make good subjects,' said Prasamaccus swiftly. 'It is the land, Ursus. All the tribes revere their own kings, their own war leaders and holy men. The Romans destroyed most of the Druids, but now the sect is back and they do not accept Roman authority.'

'But Britannia is no longer ruled by Rome,' said the prince. 'I do not understand.'

To the tribes, Uther is a Roman. They care nothing that Rome is gone.'

'I am the High King,' said Uther, 'by right and by conquest. The tribes accept that but the Druids do not. Neither do the Saxons, the Jutes, the Angles or the Goths, and only in recent years have the Sicambrians become friends.'

'You suffer no shortage of enemies, Lord Uther. Long may you have strong friends! How will you deal with the problem of the Druids?'

'The way the Romans did, my boy. I crucify them where I find them.' 'Why not gather your own?' 'I would as soon take a viper to my bed.' 'What do they want, after all, but that which all men want - power, riches, soft women? There must be some amongst them who can be bought. It would at least sow dissension amongst your enemies.' 'You've a sharp mind, young Ursus.' 'And an enquiring one, sire. How was it you knew the attack would come here?'

'The land knew, and I am the land,' answered Uther, smiling.

Ursus pushed the question no further.

Cormac ran until his legs burned and his lungs heaved, but he knew he could not outrun the hors.e.m.e.n following on the narrow trail, nor outfight those who had cut across the stream to his left and were now moving to outflank him. He struggled to reach the high ground, where at least he felt he would be able to kill one, perhaps two, of the hunters. He prayed one of them might be Agwaine.

He tried to leap a rounded boulder in the trail, but his tired legs struck the stone - spilling him to the gra.s.s, his sword spinning from his fingers. He scrambled forward to retrieve it ... just as a hand circled the hilt.

'An interesting blade,' said a tall, hooded man and Cormac dragged his knife clear and prepared to attack. But the stranger reversed the sword, offering the hilt to the startled boy. 'Come, follow me.'

The hooded man ducked into the undergrowth, pushing aside a thick bush to reveal a shallow cave. Cormac scrambled inside, and the man pulled the bush across the opening.

Less than a minute later the Saxon hunters swept past the hiding-place. The stranger threw back his hood and ran his hands through the thick black and silver hair which flowed to his broad shoulders. His grey eyes were deep-set and his beard swept out from his face like a lion's mane. He grinned.

'I'd say you were outnumbered, young man.'

'Why did you help me?'

'Are you not one of G.o.d's creatures?'

'You are a holy man?'

'I understand the Mysteries. What are you called?'

'Cormac. And you?'

'I am Revelation. Are you hungry?'