TWELVE

Thunder boomed in my head. Voices like angry hornets buzzed loud in my ears. BEASTS! BARBARIANS! The ground rolled away on every side like the swelling sea. I stumbled, fell, picked myself up and ran. Merciful Father, I ran, vomiting bile, gagging, choking, running on.

Behind me came a shout, and the ringing scrape of men drawing steel. The horn sounded. The Saecsens had been sighted.

Farewell, Ganieda my soul, I loved you better than my life.

It was a different Merlin who turned to meet the foe that day. My sword was in my hand, whirling, flashing – the regal blade of Avallach – and my horse was careering headlong into a company of Saecsen warriors, but I have no memory of drawing sword or reining horse to the fight.

Merlin was no longer present; I stood off and watched from a very great distance as an unthinking, unfeeling body performed the practised actions of war.

The body was mine, but Merlin had fled.

I saw faces rise before me… grim faces mouthing strange curses to unknown gods… hate-filled faces vanishing beneath flailing hooves… hideous faces writhing on severed heads as my sword carried them off…

The battle frenzy was on me; I burned with it. And the enemy felt the white heat of my killing rage. None could stand against me and, as the enemy force was a small one, it was easily overcome.

As the rest of my warband gathered to me, some of them wiping blood from their weapons, I sat in the saddle, staring blankly into the sun, my sword resting on my thigh.

I felt a hand on my arm. 'Lord Merlin,' began Pelleas, 'what is it?' His voice was as tender as a mother's with a fevered child. 'What did you see?'

The smoke from Custennin's stronghold ascended before us, and on the wind came the sound of shouting in the distance. I lifted the reins in my hands and urged my mount forward. 'Lord Merlin?' Pelleas asked, but I did not answer. I could not speak; besides; what answer could I make?

The barbarians we had engaged on the road had been returning to watch the ford – perhaps to ambush anyone on the trail and prevent them from coming to Custennin's aid. Their main party had gone ahead to attack Goddeu.

Even as my warband took this in, I was away, my horse pounding down the slope towards the lake that lay between us and Custennin's timber halls. As before, my body moved of its own accord. I knew nothing of what I did – only that which one man might observe of a stranger.

I was first to the fight, throwing myself into the thick of it. If there was a conscious thought at all, I believe it was that one of the Saecsens' hated axes would swiftly find my heart.

They had fired the first buildings they came to. Smoke roiled through the air, black and thick. Fair Folk dead lay on the ground, mostly women overtaken while hastening to the safety of the hall. I dropped six enemy before they knew I was among them, and five more Saecsens died before they could lift blade against me.

It was a band of forty all told; and with my thirty and those of Custennin's men who were not away on a day's hunting with Gwendolau, we easily outnumbered the enemy and made short work of them.

In truth, it was over almost before it began. My men had dismounted and were cleaning their weapons and looking among the dead for the wounded, beginning to assess the damage and take account of the losses, when we heard horses thundering into the settlement.

Gwendolau and his hunting party had seen the smoke, and they had ridden off their horses' hooves returning to the defence of their home. They came flying in, all alather, Gwendolau at their head with Baram at his side. He took in me situation before him, even as he drew his horse to a halt. He looked to his father first – who was standing with a hand on the collar of one of his dogs, trying to keep the animal from further worrying the throatless corpse before him – and then he saw me.

'Myrddin! You -' he began. The quick smile of relief faded, as the implication of what he saw hit him. Not even Custennin had guessed as yet. 'No!' he cried, startling those around him anew. 'Ganieda!'

He ran to me, seizing the bridle strap. 'Myrddin, she was going out to greet you! She was so happy, she -' He turned horror-filled eyes to the way we had come, thinking, I suppose, to see her returning safely behind us and knowing he would not.

He looked to me for an answer, but I sat mute before him, the brother of my beloved, who was no less brother to me.

Custennin came forward. Whether he also knew what had happened to his daughter, I will never know. For, in the same instant, we heard a sound to make the blood run cold:

A low, booming horn, like a hunting horn, but lower, meaner, a brutal, hateful rasping sound, created to inspire terror and despair in those who must face it. It was the first time I had heard it – though not the last, dear God in heaven, not the last – yet, though I had never heard it, I knew well enough what it was…

The great battlehorn of the Saecsen warhost.

We fifty turned as one man to see our doom sweeping down the hill to meet us: a massed Saecsen battlehost five hundred strong!

They ran to join battle, screaming as they came. I swear the ground trembled beneath their pounding feet! Some of the younger warriors had not encountered Saecsens in full battle array before – it was still rare enough then – and they saw the half-naked, fearless barbarians flying towards us, war axes glinting cruelly in the hard light, their powerful legs racing, racing like death to embrace us, their long wheat-coloured braids flying as they came.

I heard more than one man curse the day of his birth and prepare to die, when he beheld that awful sight.

We were outmanned ten to one – it took no scholar to reckon that! But we were a mounted warband. And a battle-trained horse is an incalculable asset in a fight, especially against Saecsens and their like who fight only on foot.

The fear all had felt at seeing the enemy was thrust aside as men remounted and readied themselves for the attack. Gwendolau called my name, but I did not respond, for I was already spurring my horse forward. I intended to meet the whole Saecsen host alone.

There were shouts for me to rein up, to halt and wait – and then Gwendolau took command and organized the charge, dividing our small force into two groups to try to split the onrushing wave. Our only hope lay in penetrating their battle line – smashing through once and again, again and again, wearing at them, taking as many as we could out of the fight each time, but never allowing them to close on us or surround us. We were too few, and they were too many – we could not survive a pitched battle.

As for me, I had no hope at all. I had no plan, no volition but to ride and fight and kill, to slay as many of my beloved's murderers as possible before being slain myself. I tell you I did not care to live, I did not care to continue breathing the air of this world if my Ganieda was not also alive to breathe it.

Lord Death! You have taken my heart and soul, you must also take me!

The wind of my passing whistled along the upraised blade in my hand. My mount's iron-shod hooves dug into the soft ground and flung the turf skyward. My cloak flew out behind me like a great wing and I screamed…

Yes, I screamed at the devil's spawn before me, my voice awesome and terrible, rending heaven with its cry:

Earth and Sky bear witness!

I am a man, see how I die!

See how my sword breaks forth, flashing lightning!

See how my shield dazzles like the noontide sun!

See how my arm strikes fierce judgement!

Make ready your graves, Earth!

Open wide your insatiable maw

to swallow the food I give you.

Gather your mists and clouds, Sky!

Weave your sombre vapours