The Quest (The Sons of Camelot Book 2) (6 page)

Chapter Eight

“Who goes there?” Jofrit called through the thick fog that had suddenly descended on the valley surrounding him. There was silence for a moment and then the sound of rustling he’d heard before came to his ears again. “Show yourself! I’m warning you. It would be better to pass in peace than be found in the treasonous act of attacking a knight of Arthur’s realm!”

Again there was silence but after a few more moments, the rustling returned and that was followed by noisy, heavy footsteps and the neighing of a few horses.

Sir Jofrit listened closely, trying to ascertain where the sounds were coming from. There was some echo in the valley which made that task difficult but he could still figure out the position of his enemies. Before any further words had been exchanged, Jofrit had deduced that he was completely surrounded.

“Looks like we have one of Arthur’s precious knights here, boys,” a voice said tauntingly. “I wonder what the Island Witch would say about a catch like this?”

“A catch?” Jofrit scoffed at the fog surrounding him. “How did you ever come to the conclusion that you’d caught me?”

Suddenly, a dozen rough-looking men stepped out of the thick fog to face Sir Jofrit. He looked around him and confirmed that his instinct had been indeed right. There was not one corner into which he could retreat; not a single direction that wasn’t covered by his would-be attackers.

“This is what you get for riding into unknown lands without an escort, knight,” the man who seemed to be their leader taunted.

“Is that right,” Jofrit retorted, refusing to show them any fear. “What exactly do I get then?”

As soon as the words had escaped from his lips, a wide net sprang into the air and descended over Sir Jofrit. A few of the bandits rushed forward to secure him in its tangles and pull him from the back of his horse. The group’s leader walked forward and took the beautiful silver horse by its reins.

“Do not harm my steed, sir. Please,” Jofrit said.

“I’m not a savage, you know. Why do you think I would harm a good, strong horse such as this? I might sell, it or trade it; that’s for certain but harm it? Never. He’s a lot better quality than a meat and glue nag, that’s for certain.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jofrit said with a sigh. “His name is Guerrero.”

“What’s that you said?”

“I said the horse’s name is Guerrero.”

“And my name is Dunmor. What’s it to you?”

Jofrit hung his head in defeat. He probably should have listened to the old woman in the square at Aviemore; she’d given him a free and fair caution about the rough dealings that were afoot in the Spey Valley but he hadn’t heeded her warnings.

Jofrit pondered that misstep while the bandits went through his saddlebags and then his pockets. They took every coin, every note of exchange, promissory note and ration paper he carried, and then they bound his feet and hands and threw him over Guerrero’s saddle.

“The Island Witch is going to be very happy to see us this time around,” one of the bandits commented as they began to move along the path again. “We found exactly what she was looking for. Didn’t we, Dunmor?”

“Aye, Brandor! I really think we got it right this time.”

“What do you think she’ll trade with us for them?”

“I can’t ever be really sure whenever we get to dealing with that woman. She can get very tricky in her negotiations.”

“That’s true,” another of Dunmor’s brothers agreed. “That’s why we always leave the talking to you, Dunmor. You seem to understand her best of all of us.”

“Might I ask what her instructions were to you men when you set out to look for whatever she was looking for?” Jofrit asked curiously as he bounced uncomfortably on the back of the horse.

“A knight of the realm on a silver horse who didn’t look like he knew where he was going but would be proceeding along very confidently despite that fact.”

Jofrit instantly realized that he was the centerpiece of Dunmor’s sarcastic remark and decided to remain silent. Dunmor took it as a sign of resolve and went to mock the man up close.

“If you’re going to make fun of me and then turn me over to whatever witch it is you work for, at least set me upright in the saddle so I can journey in a little more comfort. I don’t think I’ll make it very far over this saddle on my stomach not to mention any small slip could cause the horse to stumble and become lame.”

Dunmor pondered Sir Jofrit’s logic for a moment before relenting. He stepped away and pointed back at the captive over his shoulder while he issued instructions to one of his brothers.

“Undo the ropes around his ankles and set him upright in the saddle. Retie his hands in front of him and let him grasp the reins himself.”

The man ran off to do as he was told and as Dunmor went to rejoin his brothers, one of them came up beside him and asked, “Do you think that’s a very good idea, Dunmor?” He nodded toward where Jofrit was being adjusted on Guerrero’s saddle into a sitting position.

“Why wouldn’t it be? If he falls and hurts himself or he ends up laming that horse, neither of them will be of any good to trade to the witch.”

“It might be that it’s a bad idea because he is a skilled Knight of the Round Table, one who has raised this horse from it was a weanling; yet you want to return such a degree of control over the animal to him that he could easily escape? In addition, don’t you think he’s been tremendously cooperative up until now? Why do you suppose that is?”

“Why, I’d think he’s accepted the fact that he’s outnumbered.”

“I supposed so but if that were the case, wouldn’t he be most likely then to keep an eye out for the slightest opportunity to escape us?”

“I suppose that would also be true. Where exactly are you going with this?”

Before the answer could come from his brother’s lips, Dunmor heard the sound of Jofrit crying out from over his shoulder. He turned just in time to see the knight grab a firm hold of the reins and kick the horse into motion with one smooth movement.

Before Dunmor could even sound the alarm, Jofrit had laid flat against the stallion’s neck and Guerrero had reared up on his hind legs causing every man around him to scamper out of harm’s way. In a flash, both horse and rider were clambering up the valley wall toward the plain above in an effort to make a quick getaway from the band of brigands.

By the time Dunmor and three of his brothers were saddled up and riding after them, Jofrit and Guerrero were nowhere in sight.

***

Merlin’s story cast a spell of silence over them all. For a very long time, there was no sound, but those of the horses cropping grass and swatting flies, the birds and the squirrels. Each of them allowed their minds to wander off in a variety of directions as they soaked in the quiet peace of their surroundings and the mystical tale that Merlin had just spun for them. They ate their midday meal in Gretna Green and then packed up their things to continue their trek northward.

“Is there any word on my father?” John asked once they were mounted. He’d chosen to ride beside Merlin so that he could ask some questions, mostly. He also wanted to avoid any possible conflict with Alpina, though she’d been decent enough to him so far.

“I’ve heard nothing solid yet, but I have my suspicions,” Merlin responded.

“What do your suspicions tell you?” John pressed. The wizard could be a little bit evasive at times, but he could only ask and hope that he would get a straight answer.

“In this sort of situation, it is best not to get our hopes up or to make assumptions,” Merlin replied. “If we wander off on the wings of assumption, we might find ourselves well off the course.”

It was what John expected. “So, why are we going north? Aren’t we going on an assumption to do that?”

“On the contrary,” Merlin chuckled. “Heading toward his last known location will certainly help us narrow the search even provide some clues as to what has become of him. In that regard, it is a logical deduction rather than a mere assumption.”

Talking to Merlin sometimes made John’s brain hurt. He always seemed to talk about things that existed in an ethereal world. For John, those things which he could see, feel, smell, taste and hear were the things that he could understand. He’d seen amazing things while in the presence of the wizard and ought to have expanded his mind to all of the possibilities, but he was much more comfortable with his feet planted firmly on the ground or in the saddle with Ganador’s feet planted firmly on the ground.

After a few, silent moments, Merlin spoke again. “How about a bit of history?” He said it in a voice that all in the group could hear.

With everyone’s consent, though it probably hadn’t been a requirement, Merlin started into his history. “Miss Alpina told you about the wall back to our south, but there is another wall farther to the north, which most people don’t talk about or even know about.

“You see, the wall to our south was built when Hadrian was emperor of Rome, but another was built some 20 years later. The second wall, unlike the first, was built up of earth rather than stones; for that reason, it isn’t nearly as noticeable as the first.”

“Why would the Romans need a second wall?” John asked.

“There is, of course, a great deal of argument about when the walls were built and what purpose they served,” Merlin continued. “Some believe that they were to keep out those barbaric Picts, of whom it is true the Romans were certainly afraid. Some believe that the walls were meant to mark the northern extent of the Roman Empire. The second reason certainly makes sense when one considers the second wall. Why, indeed, would they need a second wall, if not to mark a boundary?”

“So, the walls weren’t built to keep the Picts out?” Thomas asked from behind them.

“And Alpina’s story was nothing more than a story meant to frighten us,” John responded.

“Alpina’s story was accurate,” Merlin continued. “Though, perhaps it wasn’t fear of the Picts that made them build the wall. After all, such a wall would only have the purpose of holding back invaders. As far as history has been recorded, the Picts have never invaded the lower part of the island, so, why would one need a wall for that?

“No, the walls were built as a means of marking the northern boundary of the empire. That is why, after seeing that Emperor Hadrian had built a wall to mark his gains, Emperor Antonius Pius had to show how far he had advanced his empire; however, he didn’t put nearly the expense and effort into his wall. Although he did place a trench in front of it for troops to defend the wall, so that makes one wonder if the second wall was built for defense, after all.”

Merlin seemed to have changed positions on his argument and it took John a few moments to sort through it. “So, you’re saying that the stone wall was built as a boundary, but not to defend against the Picts and the earth wall, farther north was built for defense, but was also a marker?”

“I’ve only told you a portion of the story, but, yes, up to this point, you are following me correctly,” Merlin smiled. “This wall, made of earth, has worn down over the centuries since it was put there, so it isn’t quite as obvious. Though the Romans would have called it the Antonine Wall, it goes by a different name among those who live here…”

“Gryme’s Dyke,” Alpina broke in with a proud smirk on her face.

John turned in his saddle to look back at her, smiled, but made no comment. He certainly didn’t want to become the target for her arrows again.

“Gryme’s Dyke is correct,” he chuckled. “I told you that she was one of my best students.”

“Isn’t a dike meant to hold back water?” Thomas asked.

“In most cases, that is the correct use of the word,” Merlin replied. “However, in this case, that’s not how it’s used. There is something interesting about its name, however. The word Gryme is often used to refer to the devil. So, in essence, Gryme’s Dyke is the Devil’s Dyke.”

Merlin dropped that last bit of information and then became silent. With Alpina’s story and reference to the Devil’s Dyke lying along their path to the north, John had plenty going on inside of his head. The battle with Mordred, Arthur’s son, had been enough to awaken him to the atrocities and terrors of war. He’d been able to work through most of that madness, but something about those lands farther north and the Picts who dwelt there was already bringing back his greater apprehension.

There was no doubt that the surrounding countryside, though mostly populated with forests and animals, was a beautiful and tranquil place. However, that quiet beauty seemed to be pregnant with the coming dread; much of which was due to the fact that, to John, it was a land completely unknown to him. With each passing mile northward, that dread became more and more pronounced.

How could his father have survived alone in such a savage land? What sort of otherworldly being had lured him in and taken him captive? Would he have any chance of delivering his father from that being if they did find him? Was he leading Thomas and the two squires to their death? What about Alpina? Was she someone that he could trust or was she luring him into the same trap as his father?

The only glimmer of hope that came as an answer to those questions was found in Merlin. However, he was unsure of just how far the wizard’s magic could reach. Three brother knights had lost their lives, even when Merlin was about.