paperlegends Story - Line of Dance, part 5

[thismaz]

For notes, see part one



"Sire, I, I do," Connal said, but having managed that much he seemed to stall. Arthur waited. After an uncomfortable silence, Lord Connal cleared his throat and began again. "Arthur," he said. Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly but he didn't say anything. "Your father was not always a good man. He was sometimes too harsh, but he always did what he believed was right, what was best for the kingdom."

Arthur nodded agreement and folded his arms. Lord Connal cleared his throat again. "I loved him," he said. "From the first time I met him, leaving the field at the Battle of Greenswood, I knew I'd follow him until the day I died." He pressed his lips together in a hard line and blinked once. Taking a visible breath he hesitated and appeared to once again change what he was going to say.

His voice took on an almost avuncular tone. "Arthur, I've known you since you were a stumbling toddler clutching your first wooden sword. And I've seen you grow into a prince with strong principles and fair judgement." Arthur bowed his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. Lord Connal smiled. "I'll admit that when you first put Broga on trial, I didn't understand. I thought you'd lost your wits, to try a powerful baron for the death of a serving maid. But when Broga ran to Cenred, I realised you were wiser than your years. You forced him to display his hand. If you had not, he would have been a permanent thorn and irritant in your side."

Arthur had listened calmly to Lord Connal's speech but the tension of his stance suggested that he was holding on to his patience. Lord Connal appeared to recognise the need to come to the point, or perhaps he had simply run out of prevarications. "Lord Lamorak has been in secret talks with Broga for the past month," he announced. "He came to me, to ask for my support tomorrow."

Placing his hand on his sword belt, Arthur regarded him, his eyes suddenly cold. "And what did you say to him in reply?"

"My Lord!" Connal's indignation did not sound feigned.

Arthur turned his back and walked to his cot. Undoing his belt, he dropped it, with Excalibur, onto the blanket. He turned around. His face was blank. "How long ago did he ask you?" he said.

"Sire," Lord Connal protested. "This very day. I came straight to you."

"Yet he felt confident enough to do so."

"My Lord," Connal said, pulling himself up stiffly. "I came to you."

"Yes, you did." Arthur smiled and in a more friendly tone asked, "And does he expect anything from you?"

"I told him I must sleep on it, given my love for your father. I think he took it in good part and hopes for a favourable answer."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "I thank you for your loyalty." he said, eventually. "I will have to change my plans a little. You will forgive me now."

With a nod he dismissed Connal, who bowed low and backed towards the door murmuring, "Sire."

Arthur waited until he was gone then called the guard to say that he wanted no more interruptions that night.

Returning to his stool, he sat down. "You can come out now, Merlin," he said.

Merlin dragged himself out from behind the chest and stood up. "You heard me." he said.

"A deaf man would have heard you. But, even if I had somehow missed the noise, I always know when you are near." Arthur sighed and shook his head at Merlin. "I thought I was deceiving myself, at first. I thought even you would not be so foolish."

Merlin paused in his task of brushed dirt off the front of his jerkin and breeches. "Good thing it's not raining," he said. "How long have you known me? Of course I can be so foolish."

"I'm an optimist and I live in hope."

"You'll be living a long time, then," Merlin countered. He brightened. "Which is good. So I'm doing you a favour, when you think about it."

Arthur refused to be mollified. "Can you drop that look?" he asked.

Merlin pulled a face and tugged a narrow leather bracelet free from his wrist. He dropped it on to the table as the glamour faded away. Spreading his arms wide he said, "Here you have me, in all my glory."

"In all your stupidity."

Merlin shook his head. "I am your wise and valued counsellor. If you call me stupid, it reflects badly on you for choosing me."

Refusing the olive branch of banter, Arthur asked, "What are you doing here?"

"You told me to come."

"I told you no such thing."

Walking forward, Merlin tried to face him down. "Down by the river, you distinctly said- "

His protests were cut off when Arthur surged to his feet, grabbed him by the front of his jacket, jerked him forward and kissed him.

"Insubordinate, irresponsible, disobedient..." Arthur muttered when he drew back.

Merlin grinned. "It's what you love about me." He looked straight into Arthur's eyes and more seriously added, "And I couldn't, I really couldn't stay at Camelot. Not knowing what was happening. I'd go crazy."

He reached up and cupped Arthur's cheek with his right hand. Arthur pushed into the touch. Slipping his other arm around Arthur's waist, Merlin drew them closer together. This kiss was slow and gentle, as if they were both pretending they had all the time in the world. But they didn't. Merlin pulled away.

"What will you do about Lord Lamorak?" he asked. "You didn't send for him."

Arthur sighed. "No," he agreed. "I can't afford the public dissent." He tilted his head and considered Merlin. "What do you think I should do, oh wise and valued counsellor?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes and thought about the question before answering. Eventually he suggested, "Separate him from his men and set Kay to keep an eye on him?"

Arthur grinned. He took hold of a hank of Merlin's hair in each hand and gently shook Merlin's head. "Very good, Merlin. It appears there is hope for you after all. We'll make a counsellor of you yet."

Merlin grabbed Arthur's wrists and pulled his hands away. "Smug bastard," he said.

Pretending deafness, Arthur lowered his head and cocked it to one side "What was that?" he asked. "What did you say?"

Merlin put his hands on Arthur's neck and his thumbs under Arthur's chin, forcing Arthur's head back up. "Nothing. I didn't say anything," he whispered and leaned in for another kiss. Turning them around, he stepped back towards Arthur's cot, pulling Arthur with him.

"Want you," Arthur murmured.

"You are so romantic," Merlin replied, loosening the laces at the neck of Arthur's shirt. Arthur grinned, his hand going to the ties at Merlin's waist. He tugged them free and slid both hands down inside to cup Merlin's arse. Merlin switched his attention to the knot on Arthur's breeches and got it loose. He shoved Arthur's trousers down to his knees and slid his left hand between Arthur's legs in a long stroke over Arthur's prick, to cup his balls. He gave a gentle squeeze.

Arthur pulled his own hands free, pushed Merlin's drawers down and raised his hands to Merlin's chest. He pushed and Merlin toppled in an ungraceful heap onto the mattress behind him. Arthur's velvet blanket was soft and warm to the touch and he had a real mattress filled with down. Merlin crab-crawled backwards, shoving Excalibur onto the floor as he did so, until he was on the bed properly. He reached forward and undid the laces on his boots, pulling them off. Arthur watched, stripping off his own trousers and boots as he did so.

Arthur knelt on the edge of the mattress and leaned forward until he was on his hands and knees, his arms bracketing Merlin's shoulders and his knees either side of Merlin's hips. His cock hung heavy and strong between them.

Merlin ran his right hand gently along its length, a stroke with no pressure. Arthur's breath hitched and he went very still. Merlin brought his other hand up and trapped Arthur's cock between his palms, rubbing softly back and forth, rolling it between them and Arthur laughed. "Stop that," he said.

Merlin grinned up at him, removed his right hand and turned his left to grasp Arthur's prick. He gave it a teasing stroke. "Better," Arthur gasped. Merlin shifted his right hand back to cup and squeeze Arthur's balls again, allowing them to slip and slide against each other inside their sack. With his left hand, he tightened his hold on Arthur's cock and began to stroke. Arthur's back arched, exposing his throat. He pushed into Merlin's grasp.

Merlin let go of Arthur's balls and moved his hand to his own cock. The rhythm was difficult to establish, but he was able to pleasure them both at the same pace, until Arthur allowed his left arm to bend and he fell to his side next Merlin. Merlin rolled over so they were face-to-face and brought his left hand up to run his fingertips down Arthur's cheek. Arthur smiled and placed his hand behind Merlin's neck, pulling his head closer and kissing him. Merlin tilted his head to deepen the kiss, following that by rolling further so he half lay over Arthur, who gazed up at him. Arthur spread his arms wide, over the edge of the bed on either side. "I'm all yours," he said.

Merlin grinned down at him. "So you are," he agreed. "And what to do with you."

Arthur schooled his face into solemnity. "As your king," he said, a smile already threatening to cause the corners of his lips to curve up, "I grant you access, with one proviso."

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"I'll be in the saddle most of tomorrow and I'd hate to lose the battle, and so the kingdom, because my arse made it difficult to concentrate."

Merlin pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You make a good point, My Liege. It would go down in the annals of shame, that a well shagged king lost himself a kingdom."

He bobbed down and dropped a kiss on the tip of Arthur's nose. "As your loyal subject, there is only one thing I can do," he said mournfully. He shifted off Arthur, pulling Arthur over onto his side again. He wriggled around until his back was pressed against Arthur's chest. "I must sacrifice myself. I will lie back and think of Camelot."

Arthur chuckled and kissed the side of Merlin's neck. He ran his right hand down Merlin's flank, over his hip to his cock and gave it an affectionate squeeze, pushing his own cock against Merlin's arse as he did so. Then he pulled back to allow space to get his hand between them. "Have you got some grease?" he asked.

Later, they lay with Arthur's head resting on Merlin's shoulder and his right arm stretched across Merlin's chest. Merlin stroked his hand up Arthur's back, into his hair and started to lightly massage his scalp. Arthur drew a deep contented breath.

"We need to sleep," Merlin said.

Arthur nuzzled into Merlin's neck. "Well you can't sleep here."

Merlin pulled his head back as far as he could and squinted down at Arthur. "What do you mean? You can't kick me out."

Arthur shifted his head on Merlin shoulder so he could look up at him. "I can and I will."

"But... Arthur, you just shagged me senseless. I'm boneless. I'm a puddle, Puddle-Merlin. I can't move."

Arthur rolled over onto his side, pulling free of Merlin's arm. Merlin shifted to lie on his side, facing Arthur, but before he could settle, Arthur took advantage and shoved him so he tumbled off the cot and onto the ground.

Mindful of the guards outside, he didn't yell, but he glared very loudly at Arthur.

Arthur grinned back. "You got yourself into this. You have to live with it, Myrddin," he drawled.

Merlin rolled onto his hands and knees and levered himself onto his feet. "Why can't I make my bed and so lie in it, instead?" he asked.

"Because I can't have Isen's unknown groom in my tent, come morning," Arthur replied.

Sitting down on the edge of the cot, Merlin started to drag his clothes back on, while Arthur pulled the blankets over himself and made a show of snuggling down under them.

"You'll be careful tomorrow, won't you?" Merlin said, looking over his shoulder at Arthur.

Arthur smiled. "And you too," he said. "I don't need to explain, again, why I forbade you to come on this campaign, do I?"

"No, you don't. I understood then and I understand now. I promise not to rain down fire on the enemy, or do anything to advance the battle." He twisted around so he could look Arthur directly in the eye. "But I won't promise not to come to your aid, if you need it."

Pulling his right hand free of the blankets, Arthur reached up and flicked the tip of Merlin's nose with his forefinger. "I won't need it," he said.

"And if that doesn't jinx you, nothing will," Merlin replied, clasping Arthur's hand and bringing it to his lips. He kissed the tips of Arthur's fingers and let it drop. Reaching down, he picked up his boots and pulled them on.

"It was going to happen," Arthur said. "There had to be a challenge, there always is. But this day will confirm Camelot's reputation, under a new king. All my knights will come out of it as heroes."

"But what of you?"

Arthur's lips twisted in acknowledgement. "Think of the glory I garner from being their commander."

Merlin nodded. "True. And so the legend will be born and grow." He got up and went over to the gap he had made in the base of the tent wall by his entrance.

"Hey!" Arthur called. He pointed at the table and Merlin went over and grabbed the leather bracelet and pulled it on.

Kneeling down he prepared to wriggle out again, but before he did so he turned and asked, "Would it be treason to suggest that I don't quite trust your promise to keep yourself safe?"

For the second time since they left Camelot, a brief but heavy downpour soaked both the camp and Merlin just before dawn. Trudging about his duties, he was once again grateful to Gwen for his hat and only wished for a cloak to accompany it.

He had left Arthur's tent just after the change of the second watch, made his way to the wagon he had claimed the night before, crawled under his blanket and fallen immediately into a deep sleep. As arranged, the guard on the third watch woke him, just before going off duty. He did so with a friendly kick, which had not been part of the bargain.

When Merlin dragged himself out into the open and stretched, Dillon's boy was already building up the fire for breakfast a few yards away, so he went over to warm his hands and scrounge some food before he started on his duties. Cheese and hard oatcakes in one hand, and two buckets in the other, he'd made his way down to the stream.

The camp slowly came awake around him while he was carting water and feed to the horses. By the time that was done, the porridge was ready and he delivered breakfast to Isen and Bevyn before getting his own.

The sky began to lighten, the rain cleared and the air smelt fresh and clean; no small feat in a camp crowded with oxen, horses, dogs and men and women sleeping rough. Merlin groomed both Rom and Ajax and laid out and checked their saddles, bridles and accoutrements.

Arthur had been around the camp, too, issuing orders and dealing with questions from his knights and sergeants, but when Merlin finished his tasks and went looking, he was nowhere to be seen. The queue of servants at Dillon's pot had dispersed, although the other fires were still busy. Merlin paused, shrugged and went to beg a second breakfast.

Dillon took one look at him and handed him a bowl of porridge and a leather tankard saying, "Here, this'll put a proper lining on your ribs." Merlin nodded his thanks and set the tankard on the ground at his feet. Dillon gave the cauldron at his side a stir with a long handled ladle. "And if you're still hungry, after," he said, "we've put some fresh veg in the stew from last night."

Merlin looked up from digging in the pouch on his belt. "Where did you get that?" he asked. His hand closed around the handle of his spoon and he pulled it out, holding it up triumphantly for Dillon to see.

Grinning at his foolery, Dillon tapped his nose and looked around before leaning closer and whispering, "Forage party. They found a vegetable patch next to one of the cottages on this side of the brook, where those other bastards couldn't come and pillage."

Already shovelling porridge into his mouth, Merlin mumbled, "I thought the King ordered that the cotters of Crybookdale be left in peace?"

Dillon snorted. "He did. But he never said nowt about that lot over there." He jerked his head in the general direction of the rise. "Anyhows, anything left would be trampled. It'd be a crime to waste it." He glared down at the pot of stew. "Not that there was much left. Some other bugger got to it before me and mine."

"Right." Merlin scraped up the last of the porridge and sucked his spoon clean before stashing it away again. Handing the bowl back to the boy who was squatting on the ground next to the porridge pot, he picked up the tankard, gulped down the small beer and handed the tankard back to Dillon. "Thanks, mate," he said. He looked up the hill. "I have to get back to the horses, now, but if there's any stew left later, I'll take you up on your offer." Hitching his jacket on his shoulders, he straightened his hat and headed towards the picket line.

"I'll save you some," Dillon called after him. "Might have a squirrel or three added, too, by then."

Merlin waved his hand over his head in acknowledgement, keeping his eyes on his feet as he picking his way along the now muddy path between the tents.

Just before he reached the picket line, he passed Bevyn sitting on the grass outside Isen's tent. He was working a whetstone along the blade of Isen's sword, his face screwed up in concentration. Merlin waited until he finished a stroke before he spoke. "Too fine an edge will soon blunt, you know," he said. "They swipe away at each other and hit metal more often than flesh."

Bevyn looked up at him and scowled. "Go away! Lord Isen will have the sharpest sword in the army, or..."

He broke off.

Merlin paused and frowned. "Or what?" he asked.

Bevyn sniffed but didn't look at him so Merlin crouched down to better see his face. "What's wrong, boy?" he asked. "Has Lord Isen been harsh with you?"

"No!" Bevyn looked up sharply. Merlin held his gaze and his indignation faded. He sniffed again and swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. "I, I just want him to come back," he said.

Merlin relaxed. "Lord Isen's a good fighter," he said. "I heard the king himself say so. And, you know, well, he's the king, so if he says it..."

With a tentative smile, Bevyn nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. He hesitated, looking into Merlin's face and then said in a rush, "But if anything were to happen to him, my sister... She told me I had to look after Isen and make sure his weapons were always sharp and his armour was polished, as befits a knight of his standing."

"Is your sister sweet on Isen, then?" Merlin asked.

"No. Well. I suppose so. They were married, this mid-winter past. It was a big feast, just before the old king died and Isen had to come away. When he came back to raise the men, he brought me with him to be his squire, and I have to do it right, see?"

Merlin lifted the sword from Bevyn's hands and held it up to the light, sighting along the edge with deliberation. "I don't think I've ever seen such a well-honed blade," he announced gravely. Looking down into Bevyn's face, he added, "And at my age, I've seen a lot of blades, up close. And sharpened more than a few. I think you can be proud of your service. Never fear, this sword will serve Lord Isen well." He scooped up the scabbard from the grass, stood and slipping the blade away before holding it out for Bevyn to take. "Now, go and set it ready in his tent." he said. "And lay out the rest of his armour. They'll be back soon and they'll be in a tearing hurry when they are. Once they've gone, I have to take Ajax up to the top of the hill, in case Lord Isen needs him. How about you bring him instead, to hold him ready, just in case?"

Bevyn scrambled to his feet and took the sword. "Y-yes. I... Yeah," he agreed with a shy smile.

On the point of turning away to go to Rom, Merlin looked back. "And grab some bread and cheese from the cooks," he suggested. "It'll be a long day of watching and waiting and we'll need to eat too."

The Lords returned soon after and for a while the camp was a confusion of bustling squires, servants and grooms. Merlin brought Rom to the open entrance of Lord Isen's tent, just as Bevyn was fastening the belt around the red surcoat he wore over his mail. Bevyn darted back inside and emerged carrying Isen's plumed helmet. He stood to attention and held it out to Isen with stiff arms.

Isen took it with a laugh and ruffled Bevyn's hair. "Thanks, lad," he said. Bevyn scowled at him and tried to smooth his hair back into order with his fingertips. Spotting Merlin, Isen waved him away. "I'll walk," he said. "No need for Rom to start working yet. It'll be a hard enough day when it starts."

"So...?"

"Yes, come on." Turning to Bevyn, he said, "I'll be back as soon as I may. You hold tight, you hear?"

Bevyn cast an appealing look at Merlin who nodded reassurance and said, "Your pardon, My Lord, but I was wanting to bring Ajax up, too, if that's all right with you?"

"Right." Isen gave a nod of approval. "Yes. Give me Rom, then. I'll walk him up," he said. "You go and sort out Ajax." Bevyn relaxed and smiled at Merlin.

Isen set off up the slope, leading Rom and carrying his helmet under his arm. Merlin and Bevyn went back to the horse line to ready Ajax, before following him.

Twenty minutes later, when they neared the top of the ridge, they found Rom in the care of a soldier and Isen in attendance on Arthur some distance away. Merlin handed Ajax over to Bevyn and told him to stay put. Reclaiming Rom, he went up to the top of the rise.

The bracken had been trampled and flattened, making the ground soft and springy to walk over. The broken fronds whipped at Merlin's ankles and soaked his trousers to the knee. He found a low outcrop of rock that broke the surface of the soil and stood on it to oversee the valley.

Avarldale lay before him, peaceful and almost magical in the silver, pre-dawn light. The valley floor was lost under a low-lying blanket of mist. Only the tops of the few scrubby bushes that marked the line of the brook, stuck up out of the fog. Down the slope, halfway to the brook, was the first field wall, now little more than a heap of rubble. Beyond that, the close-cropped grass of the enclosed pastures spoke of sheep grazing, even if the presence of bracken on the hills hadn't already made that clear. On the other side of the brook, the pattern was the same. The army of Escetia and Garsbury was ranged across the opposite slope, less than half a mile away.

That camp was also awake and men were going about their everyday tasks. A small queue had formed next to a man with a grind stone. Even from a distance his task was obvious from his posture, bent over the frame that held the stone wheel in front of him. A few carts still occupied space that would be part of the defences, but activity nearby suggested they would soon be moved. All along the ridge, small groups of soldiers stood together looking over at Camelot's position. A number of men walked across short stretches of the slope in front of them and the soldiers began to form up into loose lines.

Kilgarrah could wipe them out with a single breath, sending fire from the sky that would leave nothing but charred bones in its wake and not a man of Camelot harmed. But the soldiers of Escetia were also men - men fighting for their lord, to whom they owed allegiance, and they didn't deserve indiscriminate slaughter. So, instead, men on both sides would die, the virtuous and the villains together.

Arthur and his close companions had moved to the foot of the knoll Arthur had mentioned the afternoon before, Isen among them with his back to Merlin. Arthur's campaign table was set up on the summit and Leon sat hunched over it with straight-edge and pen. His quadrant lay near to hand. As Merlin watched, he carefully put down the pen and picked up the quadrant. Holding it horizontally, he directed it towards some landmark, fiddling with the arm as he sighted along it. Bringing the quadrant around, he studied the angle and picked up his pen again.

Merlin edged closer to the knoll, trying to avoid attracting Isen's attention whilst appearing to anyone else that he was dutifully in attendance upon him.

The long dawn of early summer drew closer to sunrise and the sky lightened more. To the east it was streaked with opalescent blue and glowing orange, but low on the horizon, right above Cenred's troops, a narrow band of black cloud hung like a dark omen, making the strip of clear sky below it seem brighter, by contrast. Overhead a few feathers of white cloud stretched across the otherwise clear sky.

Arthur climbed up to the top of the knoll and stationed himself next to Leon. Leon looked up at him and said something. Placing a hand on Leon's shoulder, Arthur bent forward to study the detail Leon was pointing at, his other hand resting on the edge of the table. They spoke quietly, while his retinue of knights waited a respectful distance away.

After about five minutes, Arthur straightened and looked around. He waved Bedwyr and Isen over and spoke to them. Isen nodded and went jogging back towards the camp, leaving Merlin standing gormlessly in the open with Rom. Arthur caught his eye and blinked in subtle greeting.

While he waited for whatever Isen had gone to fetch, Arthur called Kay, Dagonet, Lionel and Brolin forward, speaking to them individually and directing their attention to various places in the enemy's position. In turn, they withdrew to carry Arthur's orders to their own commands.

The mass of Camelot's fighting men began to arrive and take up their positions. In Cenred's lines, oxen were being brought forward and the last of the wagons on the field were moved to the rear.

Time passed and Isen returned, bringing Lord Lamorak with him. Stopping at the foot of the knoll, he allowed the Earl to walk forward alone.

The climb was no more than five yards but Arthur came forward a pace to meet Lamorak, rather than waiting. He drew Lamorak over to the table with one hand on his shoulder. Pointing at the map, he nodded towards the northern end of Cenred's lines and spoke at length. As Lord Lamorak listened, he first looked surprised, then indignant and finally angry. He waved his arm towards where the men from his own lands were gathered, Cas at their head. Arthur replied and it was obvious to anyone who knew him well that he was exerting a great deal of effort to remain calm and civil. Eventually, it appeared that he managed to deal with Lamorak's objections to being separated from his men with sufficient diplomacy, or authority, for Lamorak to give a stiff bow before withdrawing.

Turning his back on Arthur, he made his way to Lord Connal's side, where it was clear more angry words were exchanged. It also seemed Lamorak was trying to draw Lord Connal away, but Connal appeared determined to remain in Arthur's sight. Lamorak left him to go and speak to his son.

Arthur turned to Bedwyr, saying something that made Bedwyr look at Lamorak and when Lamorak walked away to take his place with Kay, Bedwyr's eyes stayed on Cas, as Cas called to one of his men and sent him back to the camp.

The sun finally cleared the band of low clouds to the east, making the damp grass above the mist in the valley glow and illuminating Camelot's army, while leaving the Escetians in the shade.

Arthur threw back his head and laughed. "The sun shines on us," he cried, "while they are lost in darkness."

Merlin watched a shiver of talk roll through the massed ranks. At the edge of one of the groups nearby, Luc of Shernston hitched his shoulders and straightened his belt. From further away a single voice yelled, "For Camelot! For Arthur and Camelot!" which a moment later was taken up as a rolling wave, individual words lost, but with the unmistakable rhythm of a battle cry. Arthur smiled without humour and nodded at Marc of Thurston who nodded back.

"Myrddin," Isen called.

Merlin turned, saw Isen signalling him and drew a deep breath. He took Rom over and assisted Isen to mount before taking up a position at Rom's head. Along the ridge, other knights were also mounting their horses. Alwin brought Bran to the foot of the knoll and Leon left his desk to take Betsy from his groom.

Opposite them, the Escetian army had drawn up in a long line. In the front row, men held their shields before them in a solid wall. Those behind would be standing ready to lift their own shields to make a roof for themselves and their forward comrades. Arthur, mounted on Bran, studied their ranks. He issued an instruction to Sir Leon, who nodded and turned Betsy to go and speak to the sergeant of the archers. Merlin watched him as he actually dismounted and led the sergeant forward on foot, his arm sweeping left and right across the valley as he explained Arthur's desires. Leon could occasionally stand on his dignity, but he also had the common touch and Merlin felt a surge of affection for him in that moment.

Arthur called the Sergeant Marshal over, leaning down from his saddle to speak to him. Marc bowed and turned to yell his orders to his men. The ranks jogged forward, forming a matching set of lines to those of the Escetians. Other than their deployment, to the untutored eye there appeared to be little similarity between the two armies. Where the Escetians carried long shields that came to a point at the bottom, Camelot's shields were smaller and round. They didn't even reach to cover the men's lower legs.

The sun broke free of the clouds. It would not be long before the mist in the valley burnt away and the ground over which Camelot's men would advance became clear in all its detail.

Arthur twisted in his saddle and surveyed the horsemen behind him. "Bedwyr," he called. "Go and ask that cur if he wishes to surrender."

Bedwyr's smile was grim. "Yes, My Lord," he said. He pushed his horse out of the group, which now included Cas of Lamorak, and the shield wall opened to let him through. Arthur followed and took up position in front of his troops, facing out across the valley. The golden band around the rim of his helmet caught the light and the proud red plume on its crown ruffled slightly as he moved. There was no breeze.

Bedwyr trotted down the slope and his horse jumped neatly over the dismantled field wall. When he reached the valley floor, the mist wreathed around him, up to his horse's knees, with the occasional drift lifting higher and momentarily leaving horse and man afloat in a sea of white.

They jumped the still obscured brook and climbed the opposite slope, passed through a gap in the second wall and stopped twenty yards short of the front ranks of the enemy, just south of the centre of their line. A group of men could be seen on horseback behind the foot soldiers, but neither Cenred nor Broga came forward to meet him.

From Camelot's side of the valley it was impossible to hear what he shouted, or what was replied over the heads of the men ranged before him, but when the soldiers issued a cheer and raised their swords and spears to shake them in the air, it was clear the answer had not been conciliatory.

Without waiting for Bedwyr's return, Arthur wheeled his horse around and walked him along Camelot's ranks. He raised his voice, so everyone in the line could hear him. "The cur has said no," he cried. "He came to Camelot and abused our trust." Pausing for a moment, he let that sink in before continuing, "Not mine alone, but also yours." He stabbed his finger towards the opposite slope. "That man killed one of ours! He challenged us all and spat on our hospitality and we will not let such treachery go unpunished!"

Pulling Bran to a halt, he took a deep breath and, placing his hands on his pommel, leant forward. "A man who behaves like that as our guest," he asked. "How does he behave at home?" A mutter and a few sniggers rippled through the ranks and Arthur smiled. "We will liberate his people of that oppression."

Bran walked backwards a few steps down the slope and Arthur took the reins again, sweeping his gaze along the line. "The last time he came against us," he cried, not bothering to differentiate between his rebel vassal, Broga, and the foreign king who had come to Broga's aid, "he had ten times this number, and we had ten times fewer. But we prevailed!"

This was greeted by a ragged but enthusiastic cheer and some of the soldiers lifted their swords and axes to shake them in the air. Arthur lowered his tone, if not the volume of his voice. "There are some who are alive today," he said, "who will not be alive tomorrow." He scanned his gaze along the ranks. "Those who do not wish to travel this path may leave us now. There is no shame in your leaving." There was some slight muttering, but unsurprisingly, no one moved. "For the others, I expect you all to show that Camelot breeds the best of men!" The muttering became a murmur. Close to where Merlin stood at Rom's head, a man of middle years nodded and added his "Aye!"

"They choose to fight," Arthur announced. Once again, he raised his voice to rallying pitch. "And we will wipe them out!" That got another, louder, murmur of agreement. "The enemy will be in no doubt that we are his nemesis and that we are bringing about his rightful destruction. But," He paused. He had the attention of every man in the field. There was no sound, except the occasional clink of a bridle or snort of a horse. It was so quiet, the entire army might have been holding their breath. "The men who fight for him," Arthur said, almost gently. "They know no better. They fight today because it was their misfortune to be born on his land." Then stronger, he urged, "If they run, let them go. Cheer them on their way." That raised a laugh and some of the tension in the air dissipated.

Above Merlin's head and dragging his attention away from Arthur, Isen asked Leon, "Doesn't Cenred have a history of hiring mercenaries to fight for him?"

Leon glanced across at him and smiled. He nodded. "Yes," his replied, "So let us hope that they value their lives more than their honour."

Arthur wheeled back along the line. "Broga will be destroyed," he said with force, "for what he has done!

"And as he dies, he will know his own deeds have brought him to this place.

"For those who wish to fight and die for him." He laughed and his voice was almost conspiratorial when he gave them the punch line: "Well, we aim to please."

An answering laugh came from the men lined up along the slope of the hill before him.

His voice strong again, Arthur continued, "Your deeds today will follow you down through history. And we will not bring shame on our comrades." He paused and looked along the ranks again, making eye contact with individual soldiers. His voice once again softened, for all that he still spoke loudly enough for all to hear, "I have a dream," he said, "of a land at peace. But that day will never come while men like Broga flout our laws and prey on the weakest among our people." Once again, his voice swelled with rousing passion. "Men of Camelot, you fight not only for your king and your kingdom. Not only for your homes and your families. Today you fight for Albion!"



He raised his sword in salute and there was a roar of approval from the whole army, Isen and Leon amongst them. As the cheering began to fade, Leon laughed. "Well, that was unexpected," he said.

Bedwyr came back and fell in at Arthur's side. They returned behind the lines and Merlin left Isen to go and stand at the very top of the slope with Bevyn, who stood holding tightly to Ajax's reins, his expression an equal mixture of apprehension and excitement.

The mist was rapidly fading away and the dark clouds were slowly moving further east. Kay, Brolin and a handful of other knights took up their places on foot at the two ends of the front line, Lord Lamorak following Kay to the north. Lords Connal, Bailoch and Oran marched forward to stand in front, at the centre.

The mounted knights spread out into three distinct groups. Dagonet led Tor, Gareth, Daniel and a number of knights Merlin did not know well enough to name, to the south, to a position behind Brolin's men. Bors, Isen, Elyan and another group trotted over to wait behind Kay's men on the northern flank. Leon, Bedwyr, Lionel and nine others, including Cas of Lamorak, stayed with Arthur.

Merlin watched. The air was still, even on the crest of the rise, and the clear skies promised a perfect summer's day. Connal, Kay and Brolin each held up an arm to signal their readiness and the horn sounded.

With a long, drawn out yell, the line began to run down the slope into the last remnants of mist. The centre moved first, with the wings following so the attack took the form of a huge arrow head, running down the slope towards the brook.

Squires came forward and presented twelve foot lances to the mounted knights, who were waiting their turn.

About half way to the brook, the foot soldiers scrambled over the remains of the field wall and lifted their shields above their heads, still running. A moment later it was clear why. There was a mass disturbance in the uniformity of Escetia's ranks and the sky was suddenly black with a rain of arrows blotting out the sun. Escetia's archers were firing from behind their lines.

Camelot's archers had followed the infantry and paused to loose a volley of their own before moving forward again. Their arrows appeared to do little damage. A few men fell in the defending lines, but their places were immediately filled. By contrast, Escetia's arrows left bodies scattered across the field behind Camelot's advance.

The men of Camelot followed their lords over the brook and started up the opposite side. When they had covered about two thirds of the distance and were approaching the second field wall, the two groups of knights, to the north and south, started galloping after them.

They charged in loose formation, down the hill, jumping over the first dismantled wall and across the brook. From where Merlin stood, it appeared that both groups reached the brook at the same time. The horn sounded again and the archers spread to allow them clear passage. They galloped on with their lances held low, except for Gareth, who broke from Dagonet's group and wheeled around to rally the men on foot. Half the archers ran towards him and he set off again, towards the southern end of the line, where Brolin's attack had met an even heavier volley of arrows than the rest of the advance. The horn sounded again. Gareth's archers began to shoot over the heads of Brolin's men, targeting the Escetian archers.

Meanwhile, the knights on horseback had passed the running infantry and were leading the attack. As one, they couched their lances, without slackening their gallop by even a fraction. The horses drew together to pass through the gaps in the second wall and they stayed together after. The foot soldiers also closed ranks and appeared to put on an extra burst of speed in the horses' wake.

The company of Escetia's archers at the centre ceased their volleys when the range became too short for them to avoid hitting their own comrades. Those on the southern flank were being hard pressed by Gareth's attack; only the smaller group on the northern flank continued to shoot along Camelot's advancing line.

Camelot's archers continued to loose, even as the armies drew closer together. Shooting over the heads of their companions, their arrows penetrated the ranks of the Escetians beyond. The weeks of training in Camelot's lower field were bearing fruit.

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