Divine Sacrifice, The (31 page)

In the distance, I could hear a pair of voices drawing closer, but in the strange echoes of the cave, I could not really judge how far away they were. So, I dug faster.

Progress was slow. The rocks were heavy and slippery, the mud sticky. But before I expected it, the voices were on top of me and I saw torchlight suddenly bouncing off the ceiling.

Without warning, the air was full of some kind of flying creature!

They were all around me, all over me! Hundreds of them! Making some sort of screeching sound.

I flailed about with my arm and knocked two or three to the ground. In the dim light streaming through the opening, I saw that it was some sort of ratlike creature with wings. They had faces of
pure evil with devilish teeth. Bats. They were common—especially in our forests where they lived in hollow trees and frightened passersby.

From the entrance of the tunnel I could hear shouts of alarm go up. They knew I was missing now.

The screeching stopped almost as quickly as it started, and the flying creatures disappeared. I slipped my legs through the opening, praying that they would find purchase on the other side.

They did not.

With my face plastered against mud and rock, and my one poor hand barely holding on as my feet and legs swung below me, I saw the dancing torchlight moving down the tunnel, toward me.

I let go.

For a moment, it was like falling into a bluish-orange cloud and I thought how pretty it was, until I slammed into the ground and the blow stole all of my breath.

I waited in the dark for a few moments as my eyes adjusted to the eerie glow. As I caught my breath, I realized that I had landed in sand, something I thought strange in a cave.

Slowly, the chamber I had fallen into took on shape and proportion. Above me, some fifteen feet, the hole through which I had fallen looked like a window. Beside me, the River Axe flowed beneath
a ceiling as high as that of any hall where I had ever feasted. I lay on a sandbank next to the river, far back into the cave from where it exited. Unless my pursuers chanced to look in the hole
above, they would never find me here.

As the thought struck me, I heard the screech of the flying rats from above. The scuffling of
caligae
on rock drifted down as curses rang out. I had to chuckle.

Until I turned over and came face-to-face with a skull.

I scrambled back against the wall of the cave, as far as I could get from the grinning skull, its forehead shining from grains of sand catching the vague light.

He was buried up to his chest in sand. I could not tell if the sand had once covered him completely and washed away, or if it were just now layering over him. Suddenly, legends of Druids and
sacrificed Romans seemed more real.

No more sounds drifted down from the small hole I had come through. They would be looking outside now, believing that I had somehow slipped past the guards and was making my way south, which I
intended to do. Just not where they were looking so earnestly.

But what was David up to? And, in truth, had Arthur caught Lauhiir? What might he have told them of this conspiracy? I ground my teeth. Now was not the time to be asking such questions. Now I
had to be about the task of getting back to Ynyswitrin, back to Arthur. I held a number of debts that needed to be repaid.

The River Axe, the “river of sorrows,” flowed gently, and clear, so clear that I could see nearly to the bottom. But I knew that was a trick of the eye. It was far,
far deeper.

I slipped into the water, cold as it was, took a deep breath, and began to pull myself slowly along the bank, edging closer and closer to the mouth of the cave and the torchlight. Then suddenly
I was in the light and I felt naked.

But no one was even looking my way. From what little I could see, a handful of Teilo’s soldiers were scouring the steep bank across the hollow from me. But the rest, Teilo and Dochu among
them, were eating and drinking by the fire. David was not to be seen, causing me to wonder again at what scheme he was up to.

My plan was to hug the bank as closely as I could, keep my head below bank level and slip past the soldiers arrayed around the campfire. Once I was out of immediate danger, I could climb onto
dry land and work my way south. I knew that my path might very well take me across David’s battle lines, but I knew too that no battle had yet begun. Too many soldiers still lazed about. No
urgency stirred the air. They were waiting for something, but now that David knew of Lauhiir’s troubles I could not imagine what.

I kept on, moving ever so slowly, doing my best to draw no attention my way. My legs were numbed by the cold water. Were it not for my hand edging me along, I would have been in terrible
trouble.

Just as I drew abreast of the campfire, some thirty feet distant, I heard the sound of
caligae
stomping loudly across the ground. I froze. To move was to beg discovery.

Above me, I could hear the soldier’s heavy breathing. Seconds later I felt a warm liquid strike my head, and I smelled the putrid odor of mead-laden piss. I could not move. I could do
nothing until he finished.

For a moment I thought he had drunk an entire jug, and it took every ounce of strength I could muster to keep my teeth from chattering. Finally, his flood ended, and I continued my frigid
journey.

It took nearly half an hour longer to get clear of the knot of soldiers gathered around the cave. I pulled myself from the stream, though it took all my remaining strength. The chill of the
stream had left my lower body with no feeling. I knew sensation would return, but it would take a little time.

Nearby was another yew tree, another reminder of Elafius. As a little life returned to my legs, I pulled and pushed myself into the shelter of the tree.

With my back against the tree, I used my one hand to knead some feeling into my legs. Pain began shooting through them and I knew that they were recovering. My stomach grumbled, and I cursed
myself once again. Had I not been so interested in feeding my belly up on the
meneds,
I would be back in Ynyswitrin and Arthur would be prepared for this threat.

A sadness struck me, sudden and sharp. Llynfann would still be dead. His fate was sealed when I sent him off to trace the flow of goods. I slammed my fist into the ground. The little fellow had
simply looked at it all as a game. Life for people like him was usually short and violent in our lands. Life for everyone was short and violent. I knew few older folk, mostly
monachi
or
old women. So many died so young, like my Gwyneth and her sister Eleonore, and Cuneglas.

A deep sigh escaped my lungs as I realized that unless I moved, and quickly, I would die sooner rather than later myself. I cast about, looking to judge where, exactly, I had landed.

The river had fallen away a good bit from where it flowed out of the cave, from where the soldiers were gathered. I could see the glow of the campfire in the distance, but as I had guessed, the
narrowness of the gorge hid it well.

A path ran alongside the river, and I could see through the bushes and shrubs that there were two guards posted down below me a spear’s throw away. More important, a horse snorted and
stomped its hooves. My best chance of reaching safety was to steal the horse and ride like demons were after me, all the way down to Ynys-witrin.

The tingle in my feet told me that they had warmed enough to carry me. I cast about, looking for something to use as a weapon, but I saw nothing. I certainly could not defeat them with my charm.
Indeed, in my state, I had no charm with which to assault them.

Flopping onto my belly, I crawled slowly to another tree, closer to the soldiers and with a better view. They were David’s men, but not among his best. Their tunics were dirty and their
sandals untied. They held their spears loosely and seemed more suited to holding skins of wine than weapons. It puzzled me for a moment, and then I realized that this would be far behind the point
of action, exactly where I would put soldiers of questionable ability.

This river path seemed seldom traveled. I knew that another lane lay on the other side of the gorge, a wider, better maintained one, no more than two hundred yards from where I lay. I could hear
the sound of hooves pounding on packed earth in that direction. Soldiers were moving finally. Back toward the main campfire, I could hear shouts being raised.

Looking back to the two soldiers by the river, I saw that their attention had been drawn to the burst of activity. They watched for a few moments and then, almost in unison, slouched back
against a tree, figuring, I guessed, that with the soldiers finally moving, there would be less work for them. Had David seen them, their heads would be feeding the fish in the River Axe.

Even from this distance, I could see their eyes open and close lazily until they did not open again. I waited a few more minutes.

When I was sure that they had drifted off, I stood up. On the other side of the tree, I found a broken limb big enough to make a club. The club was my last resort.

The horse was tied off to a tree about ten yards away from the guards where there was plenty of grass for it to graze. It shuffled around but seemed unconcerned by my presence as I walked up to
the sleeping guards.

My mood was not one of forgiveness. I stood before one of the slovenly guards for a few seconds. For all I knew, these were the ones who had done for poor Llynfann. If they were, they killed a
better man than they had ever been.

I reached down, yanked one soldier’s dagger from his belt, and plunged it in his heart. His eyes flew open and his mouth formed a perfect circle, but he never made a sound.

Withdrawing the dagger and tucking it into my belt, I trod softly around the tree. His companion was snoring still. I smiled and took up the club. With one swing, I bashed in his head with a
soft thud, spattering the tree with blood. To be certain, I dropped the club and slit his throat with the dagger. I did not really think about it; I just did it.

A sudden calm had come over me. I could not feel the chill in my legs. I replaced the dagger in my belt and took up both spears from the soldiers.

With a tenderness even I did not understand, I approached the horse and let her sniff my half-arm. Whatever she sensed, it calmed her. Taking my time, I strapped the spears to her saddle, a
leather contraption in those days with a thick pad running round it and cinched with leather straps underneath the horse’s belly and around in front of her breast. The spears were close
enough to reach and loose enough to come free with but a tug, the way we mounted them in war.

That done, I went back to the soldiers, judged their general height and weight, and clumsily took the tunic from the one whose head I had bashed. The head blow killed him, so there had been no
spray from his slit throat.

Moments later, I looked as one of David’s soldiers, though probably more disheveled than his best, except for my half-arm. It might not be noticed immediately, but if I were subjected to
any real scrutiny, it would give me away. I was not the only man in Britannia missing an arm, but such a man would be seen as bad luck as a soldier.

With a smile, an idea formed. Snatching up one of the shields, I quickly mounted the horse. Once there, I lashed the shield to my half-arm. It was not a perfect disguise, but it would do.
Grasping the reins in my one good hand, I turned the horse’s head, kicked her in her flanks, and headed her off toward the abbey and Arthur.

An hour later, I was still traveling slowly, following the course of the river. The sight of a soldier on a horse, riding at full gait, would attract too much attention. A few
soldiers, those of Teilo and Dochu, had chanced my way, but a wave of my shield satisfied them and they kept moving. In my heart, I knew that luck had ridden on my shoulder to get even this far.
Soon, if not already, the two dead soldiers would be found and word would spread that a tunic was missing. If luck, or the gods, were still with me, I would be at Arthur’s side by then.

Off to my right, in the far distance, I could see the strong, yellow glow of torches, the gathering place I figured for the Scotti and their traitorous colleagues. I knew the area slightly, knew
that a series of low hills would block the gathering from almost any watchman in the south.