Last Sword Of Power (12 page)

'My king,' said Victorinus smoothly, 'sends you a gift to celebrate your coronation.' He turned and two soldiers carried forward a square box of polished ebony. They knelt before the King and opened it. He leaned forward and lifted the silver helm from within. A gold circlet decorated the rim, the silver raven's wings were fixed to the sides as ear-guards.

'A pretty piece,' said Wotan, tossing it to a guard who set it down on the floor beside the throne. 'And now to the realities. I have given you three weeks to see the power of Wotan. You have used this time well, Victorinus, as befits a soldier of your rank and experience. Now go back to Britain and tell those in power that I will come to them, with gifts of my own.'

'My lord Uther . . .' began Victorinus.

'Uther is dead,' said Wotan, 'and you are in need of a king. Since there is no heir, and since my brother-Saxons have appealed to me for aid against your Roman tyranny, I have decided to accept their invitation to journey to Britannia and investigate their claims of injustice.'

'And will you journey with your army, my lord?' Victorinus asked.

'Do you think I will have need of it, Victorinus?' 'That, my lord, will depend on the King.' 'You doubt my word?' asked Wotan and Galead saw the guards tense, their hands edging towards their swords.

'No, sire. I merely point out - with respect - that Britain has a king. When one dies, another rises.'

'I have petitioned the Vicar of Christ in Rome,' said Wotan, and I have here a sealed parchment from him bestowing the kingdom of Britannia upon me, should I decide to accept it.'

'It could be argued that Rome no longer exercises sovereignty over the affairs of the west,' said Victorinus, 'but that is for others to debate. I am merely a soldier.'

'Your modesty is commendable, but you are far more than that. I would like you to serve me, Victorinus. Talented men are hard to find.'

Victorinus bowed. 'I thank you for the compliment. And now, with your leave, we must prepare for the journey home.'

'Of course,' said Wotan, rising. 'But first introduce your young companion; he intrigues me.'

'My Lord, this is Galead, a Knight of Uther.' Galead bowed and the King stepped down from the dais to stand before him. Galead swallowed hard and looked up into the ice-blue eyes. 'And what is your view, Knight of Uther?' 'I have no view, sire, only a sword. And when my King tells me to use it, I do so.' 'And if I was your King?' 'Ask me again, sire, when that day dawns.'

'It will dawn, Galead. Come the Spring, it will dawn. Tell me,' he said, smiling and raising his arms to point at the severed heads, 'what do you think of my ornaments?'

'I think they will attract flies, sire, when the Spring comes.'

'You recognised one of them, I think?'

Galead blinked. 'Indeed I did, sire, and your powers of observation are acute.' He pointed to the rotting head of Meroveus. 'I saw him once - when my father was visiting Gaul. It is the . . . former . . . King.'

'He could have served me. I find it strange that a man will prefer to depart this life in agony, rather than enjoy it in riches and pleasure. And for what? All men serve others . . . even kings. Tell me, Galead, what point is there in defying the inevitable?'

'I was always told, sire, that the only inevitability is death, and we do our best to defy that daily.'

'Even death is not inevitable for those who serve me well - nor is it a release for those who oppose me. Is that not true, Meroveus?'

The rotting head seemed to sag upon the lance, the mouth opening in a silent scream. 'You see,' said Wotan softly, 'the former King agrees. Tell me, Galead, do you desire me for an enemy?'

'Life, my lord, for a soldier, is rarely concerned with what he desires. As you so rightly say, all men are subject to the will of someone. For myself I would prefer no enemies, but life is not that simple.'

'Well said, soldier,' replied the King, turning and striding back to the throne.

The two men backed down the hall, then turned and walked in silence to their lodgings. Once there Victorinus slumped in a broad chair, head in hands.

'It may not be true,' said Galead.

'He did not lie; there would be no point. Uther is dead. Britain is dead.'

'You think Wotan will be King?'

'How do we stop him? Better that he is elected and the blood-letting minimised.'

'And you will suggest that course?'

'Do you have a better?'

As the younger man was about to answer he saw Victorious' hand flicker, the fingers spreading and then closing swiftly into a fist. It was the scout's signal for silence in the presence of the enemy.

'No, sir, I think you are right,' he said.

Now, in the bright new morning, Galead rose and walked naked to the stream behind the lodgings. There he bathed in the cool waters that ran from the snow-covered mountains down into the valleys. Refreshed, he returned to his room and dressed for the journey ahead. There were twelve men in the party, and they met to break their fast in the dining room of the inn. Victorinus, clothed once more as a warrior commander in bronze breastplate and bronze-studded leather kilt, sat in silence. The news of Uther's death had filtered to all the warriors, darkening their mood.

A young stable-boy entered and informed Victorinus that the horses were ready, and the group made their way to their mounts, riding from the city as the sun finally cleared the mountains. Victorinus waved Galead forward and the blond young warrior cantered his mount alongside the veteran.

The two men rode ahead of the following group, out of earshot, then Victorinus reined in and turned towards the young Merovingian.

'I want you to head for Belgica and take ship from there.'

'Why, sir?'

Victorinus sighed. 'Use your wits, young prince. Wotan may have been fooled by my words and the air of defeat I summoned. But he may not. Were I him, I would see that Victorinus did not reach the coast alive.'

'All the more reason to stick together,' said Galead.

'You think one sword can make the difference?' snapped the old general.

'No,' Galead admitted.

'I am sorry, my boy. I get irritated when people try to kill me. When you get back to Britain, find Prasamaccus - he's a wily old bird - and Gwalchmai. Both of them will offer sage counsel. I do not know who will have taken charge - perhaps Petronius, though he is ten years older than I. Or maybe Geminus Cato. I hope it is the latter; he at least understands war, and its nature. From the looks of the barges they will be ready to sail by the Spring, and that gives little time for adequate preparation. My guess is they will land near Anderita, but they may strike further north. Wotan will have allies at either end of the kingdom. Damn Uther to Hell! How could he die at a time like this?'

'And what will you do, sir?'

‘I’ll continue as expected - but I will leave the road come nightfall. Sweet Mithras, what I would not give for ten of the old legions! Did you see those Roman soldiers at Wotan's court?'

'Yes. Not impressive, were they?'

'No helmets or breastplates. I spoke to one of the young men and it seems the army voted to do away with them because they were so heavy! How did Rome ever rule the world?'

'A country is only as strong as its leaders allow it to be,' said Galead. 'The Goths could never have conquered without Wotan to bind them, and when he dies they will be sundered once more.'

'Then let us hope he dies soon,' said Victorinus. 'Once we are out of sight of the city, strike north -and may Hermes lend wings to your horse.'

'And may your gods bring you home, sir.'

Victorinus said nothing, but he removed his cloak and folded in across his saddle, a ritual all cavalry officers followed when riding into hostile territory.

'If I am not home by the Spring, Galead, light a lantern for me at the Altar of Mithras.'

Culain stood at the centre of the Stone Circle, his silver lance in his hand.

'Are you sure this is wise, my friend?' asked Pendarric.

Culain smiled. 'I was never wise, Lord King. A wise man understands the limits of his wisdom. But I believe it is my destiny to stand against the evil of Wotan. My swords may not be enough to sway the battle, but then again they may. Unless I try, I will never know.'

'I too will go against the dark one,' said Pendarric, 'but in my own way. Take this - I think you will have need of it.' Culain reached out and accepted a golden Stone the size of a sparrow's egg.

'I thank you, Pendarric. I do not think we will meet again.'

'In that you are correct, Lance Lord. May the Source of All Things be with you always.'

Pendarric raised his arms and spoke the Word of Power .

The city of Eboracum was in mourning when Revelation arrived at the south gate. The sentry, seeing the white-bearded stranger was a monk carrying no weapons, merely a long wooden quarterstaff, stepped aside and waved him through.

'Is the King in residence?' asked Revelation.

'You have not heard?' said the sentry, a young militia-man bearing only a lance.

'I have been on the road for three days. I have seen no one.'

'The King is dead,' said the sentry. 'Slain by sorcery.'

Other travellers waited behind Revelation and the guard waved him on. JHe moved under the gate tower and on into the narrow streets, his mind whirling with memories: the young Uther, tall and strong in the Caledones, the Blood King leading the charge against the enemy, the boy and the man so full of life. Revelation felt a terrible sadness swelling within him. He had come here to make his peace with the man he betrayed, to seek forgiveness.

He moved through the town like a dreamer, not seeing the shops and stores and market stalls, heading for the Royal Keep where two sentries stood guard, both in ceremonial black coats and dark-plumed helms.

Their lances crossed before him, barring the way.

'None may enter today,' said a guard softly. 'Come back tomorrow.'

'I need to speak to Victorious,' said Revelation.

'He is not here. Come back tomorrow.'

'Then Gwalchmai or Prasamaccus.'

'Are you hard of hearing, old man? Tomorrow, I said.'

Revelation's staff swept up, brushing the lances aside. The men jumped forward to overpower him, but the staff cracked against the first man's skull, bowling him from his feet, then it hammered into the second man's groin, doubling him over, where a second blow took him at the base of the neck.

Revelation walked on into the courtyard. Groups of men were sitting idly by, their faces set and their misery apparent.

'You!' said Revelation, pointing at a warrior sitting on a well wall. 'Where is Gwalchmai?' The man looked up and gestured to the north tower. Revelation mounted the steps and made his way up the circular stairwell to the King's apartments. There, on a bed covered with white linen, lay the body of Uther dressed in full armour and plumed helm. Beside the bed, holding the King's hand, was Gwalchmai, the Hound of the King. Tears stained his cheeks and his eyes were red-rimmed.

He did not hear Revelation approach, nor did he react when the man's hand touched his shoulder, but at the sound of the voice he jerked as if stung and leapt to his feet.

'How did it happen, Gwal?'

'You!' Gwalchmai's hand flew to his side, but there was no sword. The eyes blazed. 'How dare you come here?'

Revelation ignored him and moved to the bed. 'I asked how it happened,' he whispered.

'What difference does it make? It happened. A sorcerous mist filled the castle and all fell into a deep sleep. When we awoke, the King was lying dead in the courtyard beside the body of a scaled beast. And the Sword was gone.'

'How long ago?'

'Three days.'

Revelation lifted the King's hand. 'Then why no sign of stiffening?' He slid his fingers to the King's wrist and waited. There was no pulse, yet the flesh was warm to the touch.

From the pocket of his robe he produced Pendarr-ic's Stone which he touched to the King's brow. There was no discernible movement, but the pulse point under his fingers trembled.

'He is alive,' said Revelation.

'No!'

'See for yourself, man.' Gwalchmai moved to the other side of the bed and pressed his fingers to the King's throat, just under the jaw-line. His eyes brightened, but the gleam died.

'Is this more sorcery, Culain?'

'No, I promise you.'

'Of what worth are the promises of an Oath breaker?'

'Then you must judge, Gwalchmai. There is no stiffness in the body, the blood has not fallen back from the face and the eyes are not sunken. How do you read his condition?'

'But there is no breath, there is no heartbeat,' said the Cantii tribesman.

'He is at the point of death, but he has not yet passed the Dark River.'

Revelation put both hands to the King's face.

'What are you doing?' asked Gwalchmai.

'Be silent,' ordered Revelation, closing his eyes.

His mind drifted, linking with Uther, drawing on the power of the Stone he carried.

Darkness, despair and a tunnel of black stone . . . A beast . . . Many beasts ... a figure, tall and strong . . .

Revelation screamed and was hurled back across the room - the front of his habit ripped, blood welling from the talon tears on his chest. Gwalchmai stood transfixed as Revelation slowly rose to his feet.

'Sweet Mithras,' whispered Gwalchmai. Revelation took the Stone and held it to his chest and the wounds sealed instantly.

'They have Uther's soul,' he said.

'Who?'

'The enemy, Gwalchmai: Wotan.'

'We must rescue him.'

Revelation shook his head. "That would take a power beyond mine. All we can do is protect the body. While it lives there is hope.'

'A body without a soul - what good is it?'

'The flesh and the spirit are linked, Gwalchmai, each drawing on the strength of the other. Wotan will know now that the body lives and he will seek to destroy it; that is a certainty. What is puzzling, however, is why the soul was taken. I can understand Wotan's desire to kill Uther, but not this.'

Tcare nothing for his motives,' hissed Gwalchmai, 'but he will die for this. I swear it.'

'I fear he is too powerful for you,' said Revelation. He walked to the far wall and traced a line along it with the golden Stone, past the door, on to the north wall and on around the room until he reached his starting point. 'Now we shall see,' he said.

'Why have you come back?'

'I thought I had come to ask Uther to forgive me. But now I think the Source guided me here to protect the King.'

Had he been . . . alive ... he would have killed you.'

'Perhaps. Perhaps not. Fetch your weapons, Gwal, and armour. You will need them soon.'

Without a word Gwalchmai left the room and Revelation pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. Why had the King been taken? Molech would not idly waste such power merely to torment an enemy. And the power drain on his Sipstrassi Stones would be enormous for such a venture. He had to believe there was something to gain; something worth the loss of magic. And the body - why leave it alive?

Revelation gazed down at the King. The armour was embossed with gold, the helm bearing the crown of Britain and the eagle of Rome, the breastplate fashioned after the Greek style and embossed with the symbol of the Bear. The brass-studded kilt was worn over leather leggings and thigh-high boots, reinforced with copper to protect the knees of the horsemen in the crashing together of mounts during a charge. The scabbard was jewel-encrusted, a gift from a rich merchant in Noviomagus, and made to house the Great Sword of Cunobelin.

It was a sickening thought that the Sword of Power was now in Wotan's hands. For once it had been Culain's, and he had watched it being fashioned from pure Silver Sipstrassi, the rarest form of the magical Stone - a hundred tunes more powerful than the gold pebble Culain now carried. Without the Sword Wotan was powerful enough - but with it, could any power on earth stand against him?

The door opened and Gwalchmai entered, in full armour and wearing two short swords scabbarded at the hips. Behind him came Prasamaccus, bearing his curved cavalry bow and a quiver of arrows.

'It is good to see you again,' said Revelation. Prasamaccus nodded and limped into the room, laying the bow and quiver by the wall.

'Somehow,' said the old Brigante, 'I did not think the fall from the cliff would kill you. But when you failed to reappear . . .'

'I travelled to Mauretania on the African coast.'

'And the Queen?'

'She stayed in Belgica. She died there some years ago.'

'It was all a terrible folly,' said Prasamaccus. He held out his hand to Revelation, who took it gratefully.

'You do not hate me then?'

'I never hated anyone in all my life. And if I were to begin, it would not be with you, Culain. I was there the first night when Uther made love to Laitha; it was in the land of the Pinrae. Later I saw the prince, as he then was, and he told me that during the love-making - when his emotions were at their highest point - Laitha whispered your name. He never forgot it ... it ate at him like a cancer. He was not a bad man, you understand, and he tried to forgive her. The trouble is that if you can't forget, you can't forgive. I am sorry the Queen is dead.'

'I have missed you both during the years,' said Revelation. 'And Victorinus. Where is he?'

'Uther sent him to Gallia to discuss treaties with Wotan,' said Gwalchmai. 'There has been no word in a month.'

Revelation said nothing and Prasamaccus pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. 'When will they come?' he asked.

Tonight, I think. Perhaps tomorrow.'

'How will they know the body lives?'

'I tried to reach Uther's soul. Wotan was there and one of the beasts attacked me. Wotan will know I traced the thread of Uther's life and they will follow it back.'

'Can we stop them?' asked the Brigante softly.

'We can try. Tell me everything of how the King was found.'

'He was lying in the courtyard,' said Gwalchmai. 'There was a nightmare beast beside him, gutted and dead, and rotting at a rate you would not believe. By nightfall, only the bones and the stench remained.'

"That is all that was there? Just a dead beast and the King?'

'Yes ... no ... There was a gladius by the body; it belonged to one of the guards.'

'A gladius? Did the guard drop it there?'

'I do not know. I'll find out.'

'Do it now, Gwal.'

'How important can it be?'

'If the King was using it, then believe me it is important.'

Once Gwalchmai had gone, Prasamaccus and Revelation walked together on the circular battlement around the north tower, staring out over the hills surrounding Eboracum.

"The land is so green and beautiful,' said Revelation. 'I wonder will it ever know a time without war?'

'Not so long as men dwell here,' replied Prasamaccus, pausing to rest his lame leg by sitting on the battlement wall. The wind was chill and he drew his green cloak around his slender frame. 'I thought you immortals never aged,' he said.

Revelation shrugged. 'All things have their seasons. How is Helga?'

'She died. I miss her.' 'Do you have children?'

'We had a boy and a girl. The boy died of the red plague when he was three, but my daughter survived. She is a handsome lass; she is pregnant now, and hoping for a boy-child.'

'Are you happy, Prasamaccus?'

'I am alive . . . and the sun shines. I have no complaints, Culain. You?'

'I think that I am content. Tell me, has there been any word of Maedhlyn?'

'No. He and Uther parted company some years ago. I do not know the rights and wrongs of it, but it began when Maedhlyn said his magic could not discover where you hid with Laitha. Uther believed it was his loyalty to you that prevented him giving aid.'

'It was not,' said Revelation. 'I used my stone to shield us.'

Prasamaccus smiled. 'I am sorry about the hound. I wished we had never discovered you. But Uther was my King, and my friend. I could not betray him.'

'I bear no ill-will, my friend. I just wish you had searched a little harder after we leapt from the cliff.'

'Why so?'

'Uther's son was waiting in the cave. Laitha bore the child there and it survived.'

The colour drained from the old Brigante's face. 'A son? Are you sure it was Uther's?'

'Without the slightest doubt. He was raised among the Saxons - they found him by the hound and her pups and they called him Daemonsson. Once you see him, there will be no doubt in your mind. He is the image of Uther.'

'We should fetch him here. He should be the new King.'

'No,' said Revelation sharply. 'He is not ready. Say nothing of this to Gwal or any other man. When the time is right, Uther himself will acknowledge him.'

'If the King lives,' whispered Prasamaccus.

'We are here to see that he does.'

'Two elderly warriors and an immortal seeking to die? Not the most awe-inspiring force to be mustered in this Land of Mist!'

Gwalchmai returned just as the sun was setting and Revelation and Prasamaccus joined him in the King's apartments.

'Well?' asked Revelation.

The white-haired Cantii shrugged. "The guard said that when the mist struck, his sword was in its scabbard, but when he awoke it was beside the King. What of it?'

Revelation smiled. 'It means that Uther killed the beast with the guard's gladius. What does that suggest to you?'

Gwalchmai's eyes brightened. 'He did not have his Sword.'

'Exactly. He knew what they had come for and hid the blade where they could not find it. Therefore they took him alive ... for torture.'

'Can you torture a soul?' asked Prasamaccus.

'Better than you can a body,' Revelation answered. 'Think of the inner pain you have suffered over the death of a loved one - is it not greater than any physical wound?'

'What can we do, Culain?' whispered Gwalchmai, his gaze resting on the still body of the King he had served for a quarter of a century.

'First we must protect the body, secondly find the Sword of Power.'

'It could be anywhere,' said Prasamaccus.

'Worse,' admitted Revelation, 'it could be anything.'

'I do not understand you,' the Cantii said. 'It is a sword.'

'It is fashionable from Silver Sipstrassi, the most potent source of power known to the ancient world. We built the Gateways with its power, fashioned the standing stones, created the old straight tracks your people still use. With it we left the Ancient Paths, stretching across many kingdoms, joining many sites of earth magic. If Uther wished, the Sword could become a pebble, or a tree, or a lance, or a flower.'

'Then for what do we search?' asked Prasamaccus. 'Can we send Uther's knights across the land in search of a flower?'