The exhausted rider pitched forward in the saddle and toppled to the ground, to be caught by two grooms. Maximus and Elphin hurried to the man, and Maximus dashed the rest of the wine into the cup and pressed it to the man’s lips. “ Drink this,” he ordered.
The man drank and coughed, spewing wine over himself. “Tribune,” he wheezed and raised a hand in a slack salute. “I come from… from”
“From Fullofaudes,” said Maximus impatiently. “Yes. Out with it, man.”
“The Wall,” gasped the rider. “The Wall is overrun. Luguvallium has fallen.”
Maximus stood slowly. “Luguvaliium fallen.”
“We will go with you,” said Elphin, rising with him. “With rest and food, we can soon be ready to ride again.”
The tribune looked at Elphin and shook his head. “You have fought two battles already this day.”
“You will need us,” insisted Elphin.
“Your kinsmen will need you more. Go back, friend; defend your own.”
Elphin was about to object once more when Taliesin arrived. He slipped from the saddle and walked toward them, his step light and quick, although he appeared drained. Taking in the collapsed rider and the grave faces of Maxirnus and Elphin in one glance, he said, “Bad news from the north, is it?”
“It is,” replied Elphin. “Luguvallium has fallen and the Wall is overrun.”
“Then we must go back to Caer Dyvi,” Taliesin said simply. “While there is still time.”
“Just what I was saying,” said Maximus.
Taliesin turned and walked back to his horse. Elphin started after him, turned back, offered Maximus a sharp Roman salute and then remounted. With three shrill blasts on his hunting horn, the king gathered his warband at the bottom of the hill. When all had been accounted for and wounds bound, they gathered their dead and headed home.
CHAPTER THREE
The pilgrims stayed with klng avallach for several days and then returned to the nearby hill and the ruined shrine. A few days later, when he saw that they were serious about restoring the shrine, Avallach sent provisions, for over the course of their stay he had grown quite intrigued by the good brothers and their unusual god.
This suited Charis well. She liked Collen, who regarded her with a befuddled but reverential awe and who labored doggedly with the Briton tongue. And she was fond of Dafyd, a gentle man of keen intelligence and ready wit, whose wholehearted enthusiasm for the God of love and light spilled over into everything he did. She was glad to have them nearby, and if restoring the shrine meant that they would stay that much longer, so be it.
Wet winter intervened and halted the building for a season. But when spring came, the work resumed and Charis rode often to visit the priests and oversee the rebuilding progress. Sometimes she brought them food and drink, and then they would sit and eat together while Dafyd told stories about the life of Jesu, the Great God’s Son-who, if what Dafyd said about him was even remotely true, must surely have been the most remarkable man who ever lived.
Charis did not care one way or the other if what Dafyd said was true; he Believed enough for any three people. She simply enjoyed the kindly man’s company and, more importantly, she valued the healing effect he had on her father. She had noticed from the first night that Avallach seemed more at ease in Dafyd’s presence. A day or two later, the king himself remarked that his pain bothered him less when the holy man was near. This, if nothing else, was more than enough to endear them to Charis.
Thus, she was not all surprised when Avallach requested Dafyd to begin instructing him in the religion of the new god. Charis thought it a harmless enough occupation, but Lile- always hovering, always unseen, and always nearby-resented the pilgrims and warned that nothing good could come from chasing after alien gods.
“What will happen when they leave?” Lile asked Charis one day. Dafyd had just arrived for one of his sessions with the king, and Charis was on her way to join them. She met Lile lurking outside the king’s reception hall.
“When who leaves?”
“The holy men, the priests or pilgrims or whatever they are-what happens when they go away?”
“Have they said they are going away?” wondered Charis.
“No, but it is plain enough. When they have taken enough money from Avallach and their shrine is finished, they will leave.”
“That should make you happy. Why do you care?”
“I do not care-not for myself. I was only thinking of Avallach.”
“Of course.”
“You think I have not noticed? I know Avallach is better when the priest is with him.” Lile clutched at Charis’ sleeve in a clumsy, desperate motion.
Charis observed her more closely. Certainly something was upsetting Lile; the woman’s expression wavered between helplessness and anger. Her tone was at once fierce and pleading. “What is wrong, Lile?”
“Nothing is wrong with me. I do not want to see my husband hurt.”
“You think Dafyd’s leaving would hurt him, is that it?”
Lile hesitated. “It might.”
Charis smiled. “Then we must ask Dafyd to stay.”
“No!” Lile cried.
Lile’s misery was so real, Charis grew serious. “Lile,” she said softly, “do not begrudge Avallach the peace he finds in Dafyd’s words. The king will not love you less for loving this new god more.”
Though the words were out of her own mouth, Charis froze. Did her father love the new god and his miracle-working son? Did she?
Was that what had drawn her to the ruined shrine? Love? Was it love that quickened her heart when Dafyd spoke? Was love the odd, quivery sensation she felt when she whispered the name of Jesu to herself?
“I begrudge him?” Lile was saying.
“What?” asked Charis, coming to herself again.
“You said I begrudged Avallach peace. I do not!” she insisted and then whined pitifully, “Oh, it would have been better if they had never come!”
“The pilgrims intend only good” began Charis.
“And now they have brought a whole tribe of the Britons in with them.” She gestured toward the door. “They are all in there with Avallach now. Who knows what they are scheming?”
At that moment the door opened and a seneschal appeared. He inclined his head and addressed them both. “If you please, the king requests your presence.” He stepped aside and opened the door wide to usher them in.
“There, now we will see what they are scheming,” whispered Charis as they entered the hall together.
Charis approached the king’s canopied litter and glanced toward the delegation-eighty or more, she estimated-gathered before him. Her eyes swept the odd-looking assembly and lit upon the long, lean form of a fair-haired young man.
Her step faltered. She dropped her eyes and proceeded, coming to stand at Avallach’s left hand as Lile took her place on his right.
She felt the eyes of the strangers upon her and grew oddly ill-at-ease; her heart raced and her hands trembled. She took a deep breath and willed her composure to return.
“… my daughter, the Princess Charis,” the king was saying and Charis realized that she had just been introduced. She smiled thinly and nodded toward the assembly.
Dafyd stepped forward and indicated the group behind him. “King Avallach, I bring before you King Elphin ap Gwyddno of Gwynedd, and, ah-his people.” The priest seemed uncertain precisely who they were, but began introducing them just the same.
Charis took the opportunity to study the strangers. They were dressed in the way of the Britons, but more colorfully, more exotically than any of the Dumnoni or Cerniui she had met. The king wore a heavy gold neck ornament, a tore, as did several others in the company. They wore bright cloaks- red, blue, orange, green, yellow-gathered over their shoulders and pinned with huge, elaborate brooches wrought of silver or enameled copper in cunning design. The men wore mustaches, full and flaring, but no beards; their dark hair, though long, was gathered and tied at the neck with leather thongs. They wore loose-fitting trousers with bold stripes or checks, their legs bound with long crisscrossed strips of bright cloth to midthigh. Most wore heavy bracelets of bronze and copper inlaid with beaten gold. Several carried iron-tipped spears, and others double-bladed swords.