Chapter 10: Standing Stones
His fallen head that he held so high,
Looks vainly now for the banks of Wye,
Between the smoke and the sulky sky:
But his heart is left in a greener grave.
Ballad of the Last Prince from WELSH BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS by Ernest Rhys
Nick and Judy follow the wild fox to where he is desperately trying to get them to go. Arthur goes to the great hall to try to make peace between the kings.
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Nick thought that the coyote's village had to be close to their camp by the sea, but he was surprised when they boarded dugout canoes and paddled up the river for several hours, it was well past noon when they landed ashore. Then they trekked deep into the dark woods and further away from the river's shoreline. It was late afternoon by the time they found themselves at the bottom of a steep hillside and ascending a trail which had been hewed between two dense thickets of brambles. The wild fox, who was wearing the tunic around his waist as if it was a skirt, was pulling at his paw as Nick huffed and puffed his way upwards. The path was narrow and they had to walk in single file order, the wild fox led the way with Nick in tow. Behind him was Aideen, who despite her heavy chain mail armor and winged iron cap, was still excited about their quest. Following her was a coyote and then Judy. Behind the rabbit were the two large bull brothers, a couple of stout spear wolves, and then the remainder of the coyotes.
Nick glanced back at Judy, the rabbit was frowning as she tried not to blush whenever she looked up at the trail before them. The coyote in front of her was wearing a loincloth, which did not fully keep the smaller rabbit from seeing more than she wished. Then there was his grey fluffy tail which wagged as he walked, sometimes brushing into Judy's face by accident. "Enjoying the scenic view!" Nick called back to her. She blushed again and then stuck out her tongue at him in reply. Bors began to laugh and the large bull's laughter was like thunder. His brother, however looked confused and didn't understand what was going on.
The large bull's deep laughter drew the attention of the wild fox in the lead and he turned back to look at Judy with curiosity and then at Aideen. The vixen spoke to him in the old language, with barks and yips, before he smiled and he shook his furry head in disbelief at what she was telling him. Stopping, he barked and growled in another language to the unsuspecting coyote. The coyote turned and looked down at Judy before he glanced both to his left and then his right, then he leaned over and seized the rabbit in his powerful paws.
Judy panicked as he lifted her from the ground and she defensively kicked out at him, before she realized what his true intentions were. The coyote just held her up before he turned and sat her gently down on the trail in front of him. She looked up at him in surprise as he gave her a "problem solved" kind of look and then he gave her a shooing motion with his paws. This caused the other coyotes, along with the wolves and bulls to burst out laughing again.
"Come on little Hopper!" Sir Bors called from behind. "You are holding up our line."
Judy gave the bull what Nick liked to call "that look", as they laughed at her again and the fox saw something mischievous in her amethyst eyes. "Carrots, don't you dare…" he began to warn her.
He was too late as Judy hopped and then bound ears first into the surrounding brambles, weaving in and out of the offending thicket of vines with their sharp thorns. The others lost sight of her for a moment, before she popped out at the top the trail and grinned down at them without a scratch on her. "Come on slow pokes!" she challenged them from above before she turned and walked to the top of the ridge. There she stopped and exclaimed, "Oh my!"
A few minutes later the rest of the adventures and their guides reach the ridge top and joined the rabbit as she looked down at the village below. Nestled along the shores of a bright blue pool of water were a large number of round wooden huts made of wattle and daub construction. Rivercane, wood, and vines had been weaved into sturdy frames and then coated with clay. The hut roofs were made of thick thatches of grass which had been bundled together and tied with vines. Corn, squash, and beans grew in nearby fields and salted fillets of fish were pegged to wooden frames, which leaned over smoldering fires so they could be cured by the smoke. There were well over a hundred coyotes and foxes gathered near a twelve foot high standing stone. The wild fox grabbed Nick's arm and pointed at the stone. "Waah-i-ald!" he reverently yipped out.
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Arthur stood in front of the great hall's entry, his way inside was blocked by several mail clad rams with their sharp axes and watching them were a pawful of equally armored wolves gripping their spears as they suspiciously watched the other warriors. Three very burly bulls warily observed both groups while they shouldered their own massive swords and axes.
When he had prepared to leave Henry earlier, the weasel stopped him and bid him to wait. A few moments later the slave girl returned with the war band's armorer and its blacksmith. "You can't go dress like you just came from a battle," Henry sighed as he pointed at the bear's trusty, but worn, chain mail coat. "We have something for you to change into that is more fitting a warlord."
The blacksmith, a strong tall muscle bound bull, carefully placed a cloth covered packet onto the table with a clunking sound. Arthur felt the armorer's paws begin to unlace his chain mail and the bear carefully stripped it from his body. "Take off that cheap linen tunic too, it's threadbare," the bear said as he pulled out a finer red colored silk long sleeved tunic and handed it to Arthur.
"Now for this," the bull snorted as he peeled back the cloth which covered a new set of armor inside. He reverently held up a mail hauberk made with shining bronze feather-like overlapping scale plates. When he was just a cub, Arthur had heard of such armor from Sir Ector and it was called by the Legionnaires as a lorica plumata. This was truly a great general's armor!
"Where did you find this?" Arthur muttered in awe as he looked at the finely crafted mail shirt.
"It belonged to the great Ambrosius, he who led the last of the Legionnaires against the raiders from over the wall," Henry replied as he unpacked a large royal red wool cape with gold trim. "Red is the traditional color of a general."
The blacksmith pulled out one last item, a bronze and iron helmet with the design of a dragon etched upon it and topped with a scarlet red feathery plume. "The helmet of Ambrosius," he lovingly sighed. "Such artistic work has not ever been made in my lifetime."
So now Arthur stood in his new armor, which glittered in the torchlight, just outside of the great hall's doorway. He didn't look like just a mere warrior, but almost like the god of war himself. "You cannot bring your weapons inside the hall," a ram nervously challenged him. "No weapons are allowed."
"Do you know who am I?" Arthur calmly replied.
The guard flinched and slightly backed away. "You are Arthur, the commander of our war band," he finally answered.
"I am so in the field, but when I am here in Caer Camlann, I am the commander of the guard!" the bear growled back as he shoved his way past the guards and into the hall, the ram just glared at him as he passed. Arthur was greatly concerned with what was going on at the entry, because the guard was supposed to have soldiers from each of the seven houses. Tonight, there were none of the deer or any of his fellow bears protecting the hall and also only a few bulls. Too many rams were present, all warriors he did not know. Inside the room were a few more of his fellow warriors, all disarmed and standing as they glumly looked at what was going on at the other end of the hall.
At the king's table there was the sound of yelling and Arthur stopped in surprise at what he saw. King Aldroen and King Cyflym were both arguing with King Maelgwn about outlawing all the foxes, the stately priest King Guethelin stood and seemed unconvinced by either party. The seat of the House of Foroedd was empty of course and he wondered if they had even summoned the Fisher King?
What rankled Arthur the most was the two others who were present, his cousin Mordred was sitting in the seat for the House of Arth and lounging carelessly in the seat of the House of Tarw was not King Lot, but his younger son Agravain.
"I hope your father is well?" Arthur called out to Agravain, causing the bull to flinch in surprise. "The last I heard was that he was still the King along the Wall."
"Ah, cousin!" Mordred spoke, saving Agravain from having to explain why he was sitting in his father's chair. "I had not heard that you had returned and don't you look just grand tonight!" The honeyed words dripped from the bear's tongue, Mordred was always one who could turn a phrase or two. "Congratulations, good King Maelgwn said that you made peace with those nasty barbarians along the coast."
"Are you claiming the throne of the House of Arth?" Arthur bluntly asked to the dismay of Mordred, who stood and walked across the platform to look down at his cousin.
"With Sir Cai away, I am the next in line for steward. I am here tonight speaking for our house on this important matter."
"Did the bear clans choose you for this task?"
"There wasn't time to summon the clans. This was a heinous murder of the highest order committed against the Seven Houses themselves…"
"Then by whose authority do you speak?"
"I am the nephew of Uther and he died without an heir, the throne should be mine!"
"It is up to our clans to choose an heir, not for you to proclaim yourself so."
"You overstep yourself Arthur!" Mordred snapped in anger as he pushed his cloak back over his shoulder to reveal he too had a sword.
"Mordred…Arthur!" King Guethelin called out to them both. "There is much to consider tonight, come sit down."
"There is nothing to consider!" King Cyflym yelled. "My son and heir was murdered by foxes! I demand justice! Outlaw those vile beasts once and for all, for they have been a pox on my house and my kingdom!"
"You and King Aldroen dared to invade my kingdom and have killed my subjects while I was away with my army defending our lands from the invaders!" King Maelgwn snarled. "I demand the return of my liegemammal! I demand galanas for the homes your warriors burned and those they slew! I demand…"
Arthur had moved towards Mordred, who still stood on the raised platform where the kings stood arguing. He willed himself not to reach for his sword, but he kept his eyes locked on the arrogant bear that looked down at him first in anger and then suddenly Mordred gave a startled glance towards the doorway where there was a loud commotion.
"Where's that little shite!" a bull roared as he shoved his way past the guards. "Where is that whelp of mine, the one I curse that I sired?"
King Lot had stumbled into the building in a rage. His red and green tunic was torn and spattered with blood. So too was his huge war ax, which he gripped in one of his large hoofs, but in his other hoof he was dragging a disemboweled body of a black clad tan furred fox looking mammal.
Throwing the dead assassin at his now panicked son, the elderly bull slumped onto a nearby bench. "There is your fox Cyflym!" he snapped at the hare king. "It is amazing what a mammal will tell you when you start feeding him his own entrails. He confessed to me the whole sorted story and you have much to answer for Aldroen!"
"That is jackal!" King Guethelin exclaimed as he looked down at the dead canid. "He was an assassin with the ancient cult of Anubis!"
"Wait! What do you mean that Aldroen has to answer?" Mordred asked in surprise. "What does he have to do with this?"
"You've been wounded!" Arthur called out as he rushed to the bull king's side.
"Tis no more than a mere scratch," Lot sighed out, but he began to slightly pant. "Never the less, I think that it was a killing stroke at that." The bull pulled a wicked looking knife from his belt and tossed it onto the table.
"Don't touch that Arthur!" King Guethelin cried out as he ran to the bull's side. Tearing his own priestly robe, the buck used the cloth to carefully pick up the knife and gently handed it to King Maelgwn. The wolf sniffed it and then quickly set it down. "Poison!" he growled. "It's coated with a viper's venom."
"Quickly bring a healer!" Guethelin commanded a guard.
"It's too late old friend," Lot groaned, he slumped as if the very life was draining out of his powerful body. "My fate is sealed, not in battle but by a cowardly blade."
"Where is Aldroen!" Arthur yelled as he looked up at Mordred, who still stood on the platform. "Where did he and Agravain go?"
The bear looked around in confusion. "I don't know?" he finally answered. "What is going on around here?"
"Treachery of the base kind," King Lot slowly answered. "Aldroen hired an assassin to kill Cyflym's son and blame the foxes. He wanted war between the other Houses and Maelgwn."
"He knew you wouldn't agree and sent the jackal to kill you," Maelgwn softly added. "He wanted Agravain to sit on your throne didn't he?" The bull grimaced as he nodded.
To Mordred's credit, the bear drew his sword and called out for the guards to follow him as he went in pursuit of the ram king and the cowardly bull. It was then that Arthur noticed that the ram guards were also gone, only the bulls and wolves joined the bear. "Be careful cousin!" he called out to the other bear. Mordred looked back at him and gave a determined nod.
"Bring wine!" Guethelin commanded as he gently held the bull's hoof with his own. "Rest, the healer is coming."
"No wine…" Lot gasped out before he leaned back. The poison was moving through his body quickly and it was now just a matter of moments before it claimed his life. "Mead…a warrior's drink…bring me a bowl of mead!" The priest king accepted a bowl of the drink from a nearby retainer and helped the bull lift it to his trebling lips. He drank deeply and sighed and then fumbled for his ax.
Arthur bent over and picked up the ax, gently placing it into the bull's lap. Lot looked up at him with unsteady eyes and gave the bear a thin smile. "We should have made you the High King," he weakly said in an apologetic tone. "The Houses need a High King to keep the peace."
An elderly wolf arrived and knelt next to the king as he looked and then sniffed the wound. He sadly shook his head before the healer stated, "I have herbs which will make him comfortable, but I cannot save him. This venom works quickly milord, he should have died already."
"No…no herbs!" Lot slurred out weakly. "I…I am war born, the son of a warrior." With great effort, he sifted himself and leaned forward. "I shall face the angel of death while standing with my war ax in my hoofs!"
Arthur assisted the unsteady bull to his feet, while King Maelgwn lifted the war ax and held it to the Lot's chest, helping the mortally wounded king grasp its haft. Lot gasped several times and then in a fading whisper called out "Hold the wall, you rogues! Hold the wall!"
With those last words, Lot of the House of Tarw, he who was the King along the Wall and the Guardian of the North, joined his ancestors and the gods.
His kingdom had no time to mourn as they hastily buried him near a ring of ancient standing stones.
Judy has her Br'er Rabbit moment in the brambles.
Galanas is an early Welsh law which is a fine for murder that is assessed upon the slayer and the slayer's kinsfolk. The ancient Irish had a similar law called éraic and the Anglo-Saxon called it weregild.
The King along the Wall - Legends have it that Coel Hen was the last of the Roman Duces Brittanniarum (Dukes of Briton) at the time the Legions left and his kingdom controlled the lands in northern Briton up to the Roman built Hadrian's Wall. Coel became the ancestor of what would become known of the Men of the North (Gwŷr y Gogledd), the British/Welsh who would battle not only the encroaching Saxons, Angles, Jutes and Frisians during the next few centuries, but also the Picts and Irish Scoti from the other side of the wall.