Arthur stood on the training grounds watching his knights. It had been thirteen years since they had arrived and they had already lost so many. The sun had rose bright in the sky and the knights had wasted no time in gathering their weapons as they usually did when the weather was dreary. All enjoyed the fresh, crisp air and the warmth of the sun on their skin as they practiced their battle tactics. Lancelot was showing Bors a new move he devised with his twin swords, Galahad and Gawain were engaged in a friendly competition to see who could throw their spears the farthest, and Tristan and Dagonet were silently shooting arrows at targets, never missing their deadly mark.
At the sound of hoof beats, Arthur turned. Jols rode up, dismounting in front of the commander. "There is a man at the gate," he breathed. "He requests your presence."
Arthur nodded, walking over to mount his own steed. He threw an order over his shoulder for the knights to continue before urging the horse into a gallop. When they reached the gate, a man he did not recognize called out to him as he dismounted.
"Arthur," the man exclaimed, a gentle smile on his face, "it's so good to see you again. I never thought I would see the day. You are looking well. How does your mother fare?"
Sorrow shone in Arthur's eyes at the mention of his mother. This stranger obviously did not learn her fate. "She was killed," he said with a sad voice, "quite a long time ago."
Shock graced the man's features followed by a look of pity, "Bless her, she was a lovely woman."
Arthur smiled in agreement. "Please, come with me," he beckoned. "We will get you something to eat and then we can talk further." He wasn't sure who this man was but if he cared for his mother, that was good enough for Arthur.
After settling him in the dining hall with a warm meal and mead, Arthur sat across from the man, studying him. He searched his memory for anyone with any resemblance. "You knew my mother," he finally asked.
The man took a sip from his cup, "You do not remember me?" Arthur shook his head. The man smiled and explained, not in a hurt voice, but with understanding, "That would stand to reason. I haven't seen you since childhood. Your mother used to visit my village. Occasionally, you would accompany her." A hint of recognition appeared in Arthur's eyes as the man spoke, "I shall help you remember . . ."
"Why don't you just go back to Rome where you belong," yelled a boy, throwing a rock at young Arthur, barely missing his head.
A small group of children had gathered around Arthur as his mother disappeared into a hut. The soldiers that had escorted them had taken their horses to the stream, leaving Arthur unattended.
"Your mother is a traitor to our people, running off to sleep with the enemy! She must not have been good enough for her own kind so they threw her to the dogs as scraps," another boy taunted.
"Don't talk about my mother like that or I'll . . . I'll . . ." stuttered the frightened Arthur.
"Or you'll what, half-breed," a boy challenged him, pushing him to the ground.
"Leave him alone, Primael," said a voice. The group turned to see an older boy walking down the path towards them.
Primael turned back to Arthur, "This isn't over, mutt." The crowd dispersed and the older boy came forward, helping Arthur to his feet.
"Thanks," Arthur muttered, slightly embarrassed.
"No worries," the older boy grinned. "You're Arthur, aren't you? Your father leads great knights?"
Arthur nodded. "How old are you," the boy continued his questioning.
"Six summers," Arthur answered. "How old are you? And what's your name?"
"I'm fourteen summers," the boy said proudly, "and my name is Maewyn."
"Maewyn?" Maewyn couldn't help but chuckle at his old friend's shocked face. "But your village. . . it was burned down when my father and his knights arrived," Arthur interrupted his story.
Maewyn took a sip of his mead, swallowing as he nodded. "Raiders from the west had come. They took most of the villagers as prisoners and sold them into slavery on their native island, Erin."
"Slavery," Arthur exclaimed again. This was almost too much information to take in at once. For the next two years he visited with Maewyn every time his mother went to the village. Maewyn's parents were Romans, thus higher ranking than the native Britons. Because of this, the other children would not challenge him, and Arthur felt safe around him. When his father came back with news of the village, it was assumed that he had died.
"I was sold to a chieftain, Milchu, to tend flocks in the mountains. I survived only by God's great mercy," Maewyn testified.
"You found God in Erin, a place of dark magic?" Arthur always remembered Maewyn as a pagan. The fact never bothered Arthur. He had little concern for religion at that young age. It was later, when Pelagius had come into his life when his faith began to grow.
"Who else could I turn to on a cold, isolated mountain top? The sheep were tired of hearing my complaints," Maewyn jested. "I saw my slavery as a punishment for the lack of faith in my childhood, so every moment I prayed. I felt neither the cold on my skin nor the hunger in my stomach, only God's love for me."
Arthur felt slightly alienated and guilty. His friend had gone through so many trials and it had only strengthened his relationship with God. Arthur had strayed from his path with the Holy Father. He felt a need to serve Him through the Roman Empire, but his heart ached every time he went to battle and came back with fewer knights. Rome would pave the path to God for the world. For this reason, Arthur was dedicated to the empire. The duties required of him, however, caused much conflict in him. He constantly had to remind himself that the men he killed were killed in self-defense. He never killed an unarmed man and tried to spare as many lives as he could without putting his life or his knight's lives in danger.
"Finally," Maewyn continued, "I escaped as a stowaway on a ship bound for Briton. I apologize I haven't sought you out earlier but I have been a very busy man. The Holy Spirit guided me to many places, putting me under the guidance of many great religious men. Eventually I became a priest and then bishop. I have taken up the Christian name Patrick."
"Patrick," Arthur tested the name on his lips. It had a nice quality to it and fit his friend well. "You have been through much."
"As you also have. I have heard you are a great warrior. A far cry from what we once were, aren't we," Patrick asked with amusement.
Arthur nodded and called to Jols to find Patrick a place to stay. "You should rest, I'm sure your journey was a long one."
"And not yet over," Patrick added. Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow as Patrick left the room, Jols scurrying to catch up.
In the morning, Arthur found Patrick packed and ready to leave. "Won't you stay longer? We have much to catch up on," Arthur was disappointed to see his long lost friend departing so soon.
"Satan waits for no one," Patrick answered with a grin.
Arthur laughed, "True enough. Where will you go now?"
"A long time ago, I had a vision. I believe it is God's will that I return to Erin to spread His good Word," Patrick explained.
Arthur was horrified, "Back to the land of your captors?"
Patrick smiled gently at him, "They are as much in need of the Holy Father's love as any I can think of."
"Then let me send some soldiers to accompany you," Arthur offered. "I have heard stories of Druids. They are evil and will not take kindly to your preaching."
"My master was a Druid. I know very much of their ways, and you are right," Patrick agreed. "But it is all in God's plan that I return, just as it was that I be carried off as a captive there. He will protect me, and that is all I need."
Arthur wished he had the confidence in God that Patrick did. He did not always see how God could turn every event into something good. Especially when it came down to his knights. How would everything turn out for the best when his knights were being cut down one by one? Patrick's return to Erin seemed hopeless to him. What good would it do to travel to the mystical island to preach of love and goodness? Who would listen to the runaway slave, turn from their gods, and embrace a foreign god?
His thoughts were interrupted as Patrick pulled him into his embrace. "'. . . but also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given us'," Patrick quoted from the Bible. (Romans 5:3-5 NKJV)
"I will pray for your safety and success," Arthur said, pulling away from his friend.
Patrick smiled, "Then I shall have it."
A/N: Well, there you have it. My celebration of St. Patrick's Day. I know they didn't have the New King James Version of the Bible out then, but I like it there anyway. Other than that, and maybe the dates and ages, I think I've pretty accurately summed up his life up to the point that he goes to Ireland and does all his mighty works. I hope you enjoyed it. Have a great St. Patrick's Day!