For I Have Faced Death by Ness Ayton
First published in Legend 3 many moons ago, although it was originally written for ZineAid for those who remember that.
"Here earth's bones lie bleached below the sun and
the barrenness of death fills up the eye all day; and there
is never any shelter from the anger of the sun; nor
any sign of gentleness"
(From "Fighting in naked deserts he thought of home" by Sean Jennett)
(Revelations chapter 6, verses 5 – 8)
We rode from the north, after our victory against the Picts. It had been a hard fought battle and now each side were licking their wounds. They were the lucky ones, I thought, for their hearths were closer to them than ours. Their loved ones would be seen sooner; the dead grieved for and buried. Our dead had been left to sleep under their hostile sky, open to the ravages of those strange painted men.
On we rode through bracken and gorse aflame with the colours of autumn; the air around us filled with the buzzing of bees and the song of birds. The sweet heady tang of heather and the warm sun on our backs seemed to say that it was still summer yet we knew that we were fleeing an enemy far worse than any Pict; an enemy that crept in stealthily, whose approach was accompanied by snow and ice and whose attendants were cold, hunger and death. Winter was breathing down our necks even as we rode through the glory of autumn and I fancied I could feel its chill breath on my cheek.
We rounded the foot of a small hill and saw, sprawled across our path, a stone circle, similar to those dotted all over the countryside. Cantering steadily down the grassy slope we swept through between the two largest standing stones and found ourselves in a changed landscape.
Gone was the warm yellow sun and in its place a cold white one glared down on a parched and barren land. I heard the men behind me gasp as they saw their surroundings and felt the chill in the air.
"My Lord," one of the younger men called out, "is this one of Morgause's enchantments?"
I cast about me, scenting the air like a hound.
"No, Gareth," I answered at last, "there is evil here but it is not of Morgause's making."
I shivered for there was indeed a great evil lurking in the land and I sensed that it was aware of our intrusion and was already searching for us. Without hesitation I wheeled my mount around to lead the men out of that ring but stopped suddenly, staring, for the stones had gone. The chill in the air had become sharp and my followers were unwrapping their cloaks from their packs. I did likewise, flinging the thick material round my shoulders and luxuriating in its warmth, before turning to face my second-in-command. I could see my own anxiety mirrored in his eyes although he asked, calmly enough,
"What are we going to do, Arthur?"
"The only thing we can. Ride on as fast as possible and hope we reach the other side soon."
"I don't like it."
"Neither do I, Bedwyr, but I can see no other way."
He shook his head doubtfully but rode back down the company, giving them their orders. I sympathised with his misgivings yet there was no other decision I could have made.
I turned to the front again, aware that the horses were pawing the ground restlessly. Raising my hand I signalled the move forward. Beneath me my horse sprang away, nearly unseating me, and we sped off across the dry ground, the sound of hooves drumming in our ears as the other horses followed our wild flight.
On we rode, ever southward, pursued by a dull sense of fear. We travelled swiftly across that strange forbidding land with its merciless sun burning its icy fingers into our backs; the cold penetrating through our cloaks, our skin and into our bones, numbing us with its ferocity. We crossed the dried up beds of rivers – cracked and crumbling. We rode past trees that were gnarled, twisted, parched and lifeless. The ground was strewn with the skeletons of creatures whose bones had been dried and bleached by a once much hotter sun. Nothing moved across this barrenness, save our selves; not a single green shoot broke the monotony of that grey country and I knew that this land, and her sun, were dead.
Behind me I could hear the men muttering, fear in their voices. Death in the midst of battle we knew – the quick thrust of an enemy sword, the chop of an axe and the pouring away of the hot life-blood; but this, this was a different kind of death – cold, creeping and bloodless – strange and fearful to us all.
"What's happened here?" Gareth's voice, hushed though it was, still rang out across the cold air.
"Drought," Bedwyr answered from the back of the line, "Drought and famine." And then I remembered that he had been with the legions in Africa and would have seen scenes like this before; only there it would have been a hot sum blazing down, whereas here the sun had died too.
We had slowed to a trot by now, the horses blowing hard and snorting distress at the icy air they were breathing into their lungs. All at once there came a cry from the middle of the company. I halted and turned in my saddle to see two of the men struggling with a third. As I started riding back down the line towards them he broke away and, with a wrench that brought blood to his horse's mouth, turned and headed back the way we had come.
"You're all fools to go on. You're riding to your deaths. Our only hope is to go return the way we've come," he screamed.
"Stay together," Bedwyr and I shouted as one, checking any movement the others might have made. I drew my sword.
"I shall kill anyone who tries to run," I said and they knew I meant it for I never threatened lightly. "Our only hope is in staying together." I watched the retreating back of the fleeing man until I could no longer see the red of his cloak against the greyness and I prayed for his soul. Then I turned and we rode on again, ever onwards across this cold and hostile country.
I could feel the hope dying in the company's hearts when, suddenly, we spotted a small village.
"Perhaps someone could tell us the way," Gareth suggested, hopefully.
"Perhaps," I replied, though I felt sure that this village would be as dead as the rest of the land. Still we rode into the centre, our horses' hooves kicking up clouds of grey dust, and dismounted.
"What now?" asked Bedwyr, coming to my shoulder.
"We search," I replied, picking out six men to hold the horses since there was nowhere to tie them. Then the rest of us spread out through the huts. I ran a finger down the wall of one which rubbed off as fine powder at my touch. The thatching was brittle and broke easily when I reached up to it; and as I pushed open one door it dissolved into a powdery heap on the floor with a sigh.
Inside this hut lay two small children, huddled together, bellies grotesquely extended, their eyes questioning the reason for their deaths. Nearby sat a woman with hollow staring eyes, her bones showing through her thin skin. I touched her gently on the shoulder and she crumpled to the floor, brittle grey hair crackling as it fell around her. A noise behind me made me turn. Bedwyr stood in the doorway watching, a look of horror on his face.
"My God, Arthur, she's no older than Gwenhyfar," he choked.
I could only nod for the same thought had crossed my mind. Ignoring the cold, I took my cloak off and draped it over her still form. It was only a small gesture and did not really express all I felt, but it was all I could do.
Bedwyr and I made our way back to the centre of the village, past twisted bodies with skin stretched taut over whitened bones. Even in death their arms were held out, frozen even as they begged for food and water; their lifeless eyes still watching and pleading with us. The men stood huddled round the horses, silent after the horrors of the village, and they quickly obeyed the order to mount, eager to get away from there.
I'd just turned to swing myself into the saddle when Gareth appeared at my elbow.
"My lord," he whispered hoarsely and I looked at him sharply. His face was a grey as the village.
"My lord, it's horrible," and he turned away from me, retching. Awkwardly I reached out and took him gently by the shoulders, trying to comfort him and give him the strength to ride on. I felt for the young man. The first season of fighting was always tough, full of horrors for the young, and he had come through well but instead of forgetting on the journey home he had had to face these other horrors which not only he, but all of us, would find it hard to forget.
"Can we do nothing?" he asked, tears in his eyes.
"No, nothing," I replied. "There's nothing any of us can do."
An icy laugh cut through the air.
"How true," a cold voice said. I looked up. There at the edge of the village stood two figures. One was a black knight, silent and still; the other a lady, pale and wan, a smile on her lips but her eyes cold and grey. My hand dropped from Gareth's shoulders.
"Get on your horse," I whispered. He moved across to where Bedwyr was waiting with his horse and mounted.
"Who are you?" I demanded of the lady.
"You know who we are," she replied lightly. "We are with you in the winter; we come amongst you at night." And then I knew who they were and who had stalked this land. Death stood before us with Famine at her side. For an instant I knew real fear, then I swung into my saddle.
"Ride for your lives," I shouted and led my men forward between the two figures, feeling the breath of death on my cheek. As we swept past I heard the icy laugh again and she cried out,
"We shall meet again, Arthur the Bear" and I shivered for I knew it was true.
Then suddenly in front of us were two standing stones. We rode through them and found ourselves in the countryside near Camlann and there was a light powdering of snow on the ground. Without pausing we galloped up the last road and in through the gate, where we surprised the man on watch. Eager hands took our horses form us and led them away to be fed and watered.
Bedwyr and I strode through the huts to the centre of our village where a large fire was blazing merrily. Gwenhyfar was there, supervising the women salting the meat. She turned away from them and saw us. Catching up a goblet, she moved round the fire and I caught my breath for it was as if the girl in the village had come alive. Bedwyr's gasp told me that he too had seen the likeness.
"My lord, welcome home." She handed the goblet to Bedwyr and took my hands in hers. I drew her into my arms and held her tightly, trying to banish the vision from my mind, not wanting to let her go ever. With a sigh I turned my eyes to the light of the fire and then froze for, in the dancing shadows beyond, stood two figures, both silent and still; one black, the other pale and I knew they would be there always, ever watching and waiting until the end of time itself.