The Great Captains by Henry Treece

Author:Henry Treece [Treece, Henry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Arthurian
ISBN: 9789997523808
Publisher: Random House Inc
Published: 1956-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

does not love the Count of Britain. ’

Medrawt, who had not spoken before, said, ‘The man who wishes to be loved does not accept such a title. It is only for the hardiest in mind. ’

Artos did not answer him, but rode on gripping the pommel of his high saddle.

GLEIN WAS THE first of the battles of Artos, and the leaves of Autumn were falling from the trees. The turf of the Sussex Weald still grew thick and lush; flowers still nodded in sheltered places beneath the trees. The maturity of the year was echoed in the mellower sounds of the birds’ voices. It seemed a season of wood-smoke and amber lights. Not one of blood. Beyond the brow of a hill overlooking the River Glein, the Legion of the Bear was waiting. Below them, somewhere in the deep woodlands that bordered the sluggish river lay their enemy, men of the Jutish Cantwara. A scout had ridden in the night before to say that these men, some of them old settlers in Britain, were on their way westwards through the forests to join the Saxon kinglet Aelle, and his son Cissa. The man had come near to riding full pelt into a company of them, at dusk, and brought back a long axe-slash in his saddle to prove his words. But it had been impossible for him to estimate the number of the enemy. So, as they waited, there were many among the Cymry who licked their dry lips and felt frequently to see if their swords were still there.

One old veteran said to the shivering lad at his side, ‘Once it begins, the sweat will stop drowning the palms of your hands. You will forget this waiting. Look, my own hands are shaking now. ’

He held out his callused palms. The boy could discern no movement, but he nodded his head. His teeth were chattering too hard for him to risk speech.

The old man said, ‘On this hill was once built a great fortress, in the days before even Julius came here. Old Britons lie beneath our horses’ feet, men who knew the secret of the great stones. They will be sending their good wishes with us tonight. ’

Dusk came down suddenly like a dark cloak. From the woodlands below the waiting Cymry came the night-time calls of owl and badger, as though nocturnal life had now inherited the earth. Some men felt that they should not be there at such a time, intruding on a world that did not belong to them.

Artos sat silent and still, the great sword Caliburn across his knees, his heavy cloak pulled high up about his face. He stared down into the darkness like a warrior carved from stone. Bedwyr who sat nearest him at that time saw that his lips were moving, gently and yet with the marked rhythm that might have signified a prayer, though Bedwyr had not seen his master pray before, except with wild shrieks and groans before the smoking altars of Lis Pengwern.

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