King Arthur - 01 - The Curse Of King Arthur's Brood
Lee edgar


Twins are born to King Arthur after his death. The mother, the English Princess Rowena, is murdered and attempts made to eliminate her offspring. But they escape and find they have powers when together. These powers enable Princess Aedra to pronounce a terrible curse on the inhabitants of Camelot.
She eventually makes her home in the North East where she meets Brother John and learns of the Christ. Attempts are made to silence her teaching which lead to an explosive climax back in Camelot where it all started. 


ONE

The King was dying. It did not need an examination by the old healer to establish that fact as shades were drawn over the long windows of the royal bedchamber at Camelot. In themselves, the King’s wounds were not considerable. No, his dying was predominantly not from his recent battle wounds but from another kind of sickness, one stemming from a hopelessness for the future whereby even his own son had looked only to selfish ends. 
     ‘Relax, my Lord King,’ said the healer. ‘You will only make the bleeding worse.’ 
    The King groaned. ‘Is there any point, my good friend? Mordredd is dead, I am finished, and the land is once more without a ruler.’ 
     ‘My Lord King, you have done your best for Britannia. No man could have done more to counter the attitude of small-minded, tribal kings who think only of the threat from the Anglisc.’ 
     ‘The threat from the Anglisc is no longer great, doctor.’ 
     ‘Gwayn does not think so. He is obsessed with the idea of an emminent SÆxon invasion and firmly believes that the Anglisc already living in Eastern Britannia are about to rise up in rebellion.’ 
     ‘Gwayn is a warmonger, he always was. The future of Britannia lies, not just with our British tribes who were left to fend for themselves when the Romans left our island, but also with the many Anglisc families who are coming over the sea to settle here.’
     ‘You may be right, my Lord King, but peace is a forlorn dream with men like Gwayn around.’ 
     The two men looked up as the big, wooden door opened slowly and a slight figure in a long white dress walked to the side of the King’s bed. The wise old healer smiled at the fair-haired young woman who stood quietly beside him and shook his head as he watched a tear run down her face. 
     The King smiled. ‘Are you well, my dear?’ 
     ‘I am fine, father. It simply pains me to see you like this.’ 
     He sighed. ‘I regret, my dear Rowena, that I will soon be leaving you.’ 
     ‘It will break my heart,’ she replied sadly. 
     The King glanced at the healer who recognised the signal of dismissal. When he was alone with the young woman, he took her small hand in his own. ‘Before I die, there is something you deserve to be told.’ 
     Princess Rowena’s eyes looked huge in the light from the flickering candle. ‘Yes, my father.’ 
     ‘I...’ It was difficult for him. ‘I am not your father.’ 
     Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment before she spoke. ‘Not... my father?’ 
     ‘Your real father was a brave man who was killed fighting a great battle at Burgh Conan. Before he died, I promised him on my oath of honour that I would bring you up as my own child.’ 
     ‘Did...did you fight in this battle?’ 
     The King nodded slowly. ‘I’m afraid it was I who had your father executed.’ 
     She slowly sat down on the cushioned stool beside the bed. ‘Tell me.’ 
     ‘Your father’s name was Hengist and he came with his brother, Horsa, from a land far away on the other side of the Nordd Zee.’ 
     ‘They came here? To Britannia?’ 
     He nodded. ‘King Vortigern of the Cantii offered them land if they would help him to fight against the maurauding Picts from the north. Your father and uncle agreed but Vortigern wanted more. He wanted...you!’ 
     She blinked. ‘Me?’ 
     ‘You have always been very beautiful, my dearest Rowena. Even as a child, you had a certain something which raised great desire in the heart of Vortigern.’ 
     The Princess looked down. ‘How old was I?’ 
     ‘Very young. But not too young to be used as a political pawn. Your father was placed in a difficult position. If he refused, it would be taken as an insult. If he agreed...?’ 
     ‘Would marriage to this king have been so bad?’ 
     He squeezed her hand gently. ‘My child, Vortigern did not need a wife. What he required was a royal virgin for a sacrifice.’ 
     Rowena jumped noticably. ‘A sacrifice?’ 
     The King nodded gravely. ‘You were to be publicly dismembered at the feast of Samuhan. Vortigern hoped this would appease the gods and serve to seal the bond of union between the peoples.’ 
     ‘I...I don’t understand.’ 
     ‘We Britons are a very superstitious people, my child. We have a great many customs and traditions based on the legends of long ago. The Romans outlawed human sacrifice by the Druids while they occupied our land but, since they left, older ideas have begun to return.’ 
     ‘But this does not happen in Camelot, does it?’ 
     ‘No, it most certainly does not. As a boy I was trained in the ways of the invaders and such practices have been banned from our land.’ 
     ‘But this Vortigern returned to the old ways?’ 
     The King nodded. ‘Your father took what he saw as the only way out. He challenged Vortigern and killed him.’ 
     ‘Then why,’ she asked, frowning; ‘Why did you have to fight against my father?’ 
     ‘Two reasons. Firstly, Vortigern and I had a treaty whereas we would fight together to repel any invaders. Initially, the pact had been established as a means of protection against the Picts, but now, I had no choice but to uphold it against your father.’ 
     ‘And the second reason?’ 
     ‘Your father did not stop at killing Vortigern. He gathered an army and then invaded the lands of the Parisii and the Brigantes. These people called upon my services and I finally beseiged him at the city of Burgh Conan.’ 
     She looked straight into his eyes. ‘And you executed him.’ 
     ‘Do you hate me so much?’ he asked, looking down. 
     Her voice softened. ‘You have been more than a father to me all my life. I do not remember this other father.’ 
     ‘Then you forgive me?’ 
     ‘Why must you ask?’ 
     ‘It is important to me. I have to know before I die.’ 
     She smiled. ‘My Lord King. If you die, we die together.’ 
     It was the King’s turn to frown. 
     ‘It is true,’ came the voice from the doorway. ‘If you permit?’ 
     The King gestured and the healer returned to the bedside. ‘What is it?’ 
     ‘I regret that Gwayn has persuaded the other knights that it is in the best interests of Camelot that the ancient death rite be observed. When your funeral pire is lit, Princess Rowena will be laid atop. She will be burnt alive.’ 
     The King faced his ward. ‘You knew this?’ 
     She nodded. ‘It is the will of the gods.’ 
     ‘But why would Gwayn do this?’ he asked the healer. ‘Especially as I have given my solemn oath to her father?’ 
     ‘Sire, he is not alone. Many of the people see the Princess as a symbol. While she is here and alive, the possibility of compromise with the Anglisc is present and that is not Gwayn’s wish. But if she were to die, especially in the way he has proscribed, it would mean war with the SÆxons.’ 
     ‘And Gwayn still wants war?’ 
     ‘Of course. Lord Æsc will be forced to attack at once to avenge the death of his sister but with a force vastly inferior to our own. Gwayn is confident of victory.’ 
     Princess Rowena suddenly gripped the healer’s arm. ‘I have a brother?’ 
     He nodded. 
     ‘He was spared at Burgh Conan because of his youth and was taken to Ebor,’ added the King; ‘After your father’s execution, I forbade the rape of the women and instructed that they be allowed to return to their own land. Many of them did not return but settled in the Valley of Waters.’ 
     ‘There are not many of them,’ added the healer sadly. 
     ‘Then how can I stop this bloodshed? What can I do to save the Princess? I promised her father that I will protect her with my own life.’ 
     ‘There is but one way, Sire.’ The healer looked closely at the two faces which watched his own: the one prematurely wrinkled by wounds both external and internal; the other flawless and beautiful. ‘The Princess must come to be with child.’ 
     The King looked at the Princess who clutched his cold hand. ‘But...but how will that save her life?’ 
     ‘Sire, I regret to speak so boldly, but she must come to be with your child.’ 
     ‘My child? How can that be?’ 
     ‘My Lord King, it is your life or hers. I’m afraid I can put it no other way. If she were to conceive your child, the news would be proclaimed throughout the land. The people of the city and the other knights could not then allow Gwayn to execute the mother of the future King of Britannia.’ 
     The King looked again at the Princess. ‘Would you consent to such an act, my child?’ 
     She smiled. ‘Of course, my father. For you I would do anything.’ 
     The King reached up and gently touched her small, white face and looked into her eyes. ‘My poor little Princess, you are still a maiden, it could bring you much pain.’ 
     There was no hesitation on the part of the girl. ‘To bear your son, I would go through fire and sword. For just the slightest possibility of preventing war between your great kingdom and that of my brother, I would endure it a thousand times over.’ 
     ‘You are a very brave young lady,’ he said as he stroked her long, fair hair. 
     ‘Sire,’ interupted the healer,’ with respect, I have to remind you that the act will almost certainly hasten your own death.’ 
     ‘My good friend. Would you advise against such a consummation?’ 
     ‘No, Sire.’ The healer looked at the floor. ‘By carrying out this one last act, you will not only save the life of Princess Rowena, you will also ensure that there is peace with the Anglisc, for at least a little longer.’

     It was no mad, passionate affair. The Princess gasped as her virginity dissolved and, a little later, sighed with delight as the King’s seed was implanted in her womb. When it was over, she held the King close for a long time as the healer endeavoured to ease his pain. 
     ‘My Lady,’ he advised. ‘You must now go to your room now and lie down for the rest of the day. Take no risks which could reverse the conception. I will come and see you are cared for when I have finished looking after the King.’ 
     The Princess nodded quietly, kissed her King tenderly and turned to go, her gown still in her hand. Suddenly, the door burst open and Gwayn stood on the threshold, his face dark with anger. 
     ‘What has happened here?’ he demanded to know. 
     The Princess stood before him in the dim light and smiled. Gwayn looked towards the King on the bed and saw the grin on the healer’s face. His face went crimson at the treachery and his hand instinctively reached for the dagger at his belt. He would slit her open, right here and now, and throw her body from the balcony. 
     Their eyes met as he started to draw the dagger and those piercing, blue eyes did not waver for an instant as he struggled to take the action which would rid him forever of this source of evil Anglisc corruption. 
     His arm felt paralysed. She was only a foot away from him and just one upward slash would take away both conceived child and mother. Sweat broke out on his brow as he fought against the strange power which prevented him carrying out his greatest desire until, sudden panic rising in his throat, he turned and fled from the bedchamber.


     I tell you, my Lord Knights,’ shouted Gwayn, smashing his fist down on the round table; ‘That girl is a witch.’ 
     The other knights sat around it in silence. 
     ‘She has bewitched the King into conception. I met her afterwards and was paralysed by her eyes.’ 
     ‘I hear she was as naked as the day she was born,’ snided Sir Brian. ‘Are you sure that it was her eyes which caught your attention?’ 
     The other knights roared with a laughter that echoed around the Great Hall at Camelot. 
     Gwayn was furious. ‘You can laugh, all of you. But mark my words, something evil is afoot here. Something that will destroy us all if we do not act immediately.’ 
     ‘You exaggerate, surely,’ said Sir Hew. 
     Gwayn was not to be put off so easily. ‘You didn’t see those eyes. They were...hypnotic.’ 
     ‘The Anglisc do not have such powers.’ 
     ‘Not normally. But remember, Merlin spent much time with her before he disappeared, and so did the witch Morgana. They both had time to educate her in the ways of the wise ones. I tell you, she is a witch herself and should be burned as such.’ 
     Sir Dinaden stood up with the authority of age. ‘You would dare to harm the King’s heir?’ 
     ‘We only have her word for it that conception took place. You know as well as I do that the King is much too weak to have attempted such an act.’ 
     ‘We also have the healer’s sworn statement,’ said the wise Sir Alfred, holding up a square of vellum. ‘He swears that copulation did take place and that Princess Rowena is now with child. I regret that we cannot allow you to harm the future King.’ 
     Gwayn looked around at the others and recognised that he was outnumbered. They were old men, thinking only of peace, when a great victory could now be won against the Anglisc. 
     He smiled wickedly. ‘But what if the child turns out to be a girl?’ 
     Sir Brian conceded. ‘That is a very different matter. If that proves to be so, there is no problem. Straight after the birth, have the mother disembowelled so that she cannot claim some kind of miraculous conception at a future date.’ 
     ‘And the witch’s daughter...?’ Gwayn dared to ask. 
     Sir Brian smiled. ‘She will have no future whatsoever.’


     It was six weeks before King Arthur died peacefully in his sleep. He died a happy man and who could blame him? Previously the lover of only one wife, his beloved Gwynvir, his nights at the end with this beautiful, young woman with satin-smooth skin brought him considerable pleasure. The Princess, too, seemed ecstatically happy; not simply because her own life would now be spared, but also because of those wonderful evenings in the arms of the one she had come to love so dearly. 
     By February of the following year, the Princess was undoubtedly with child for all to see and there was singing and dancing in the castle. Mothers sewed garments for the king-to-be while menfolk throughout the realm swore lifetime allegiance to the yet unborn child. 
     One day in mid springtime, Princess Rowena’s time came. The entire populace waited in the castle courtyard with baited breath as the news of the first pangs was spread far and wide. With healer and royal midwife in attendance, the Princess started to give birth. 
     ‘Easy now,’ said the healer. ‘Gently does it.’ 
     The Princess strained and cried out as the midwife assisted the baby to arrive until, at last, it was over. With a long sigh, she produced from between legs already stained red with her own blood. The healer took the baby and then looked at it with deep sadness. It was a girl. 
     Suddenly, the midwife let out a cry. ‘Sir, come quickly. She is straining again.’ 
     The Princess let out a long groan and the midwife beamed broadly and held up a fine, baby boy for the young woman to see. 
     ‘Doctor,’ said the Princess quietly. ‘You must take the boy and hide him.’ 
     He was shocked. ‘Hide him?’ 
     ‘Yes. Gwayn will find some excuse to have him killed. I know it in my heart.’ 
     ‘But, my Lady. Only by having a boy will you save your own life. You know that if you are seen to present merely a girl, Gwayn will have you executed immediately, today.’ 
     ‘Then so be it,’ she insisted sadly. ‘The King shortened his life to save mine so I must now give up my own life to ensure the safety of his son and heir.’ 
     ‘But Your Highness...’ 
     ‘Please do as I say. Let me hold him for just one moment before you inform the crowds of the birth of my daughter.’


     The announcement was made and the crowd became subdued in its disappointment. Gwayn, however, was delighted. The midwife had been gone not half a minute with the boy child before he stormed into the royal bedchamber. 
     ‘Sir Gwayn,’ said the healer as he stood between rogue knight and Princess. ‘I must protest at this intrusion.’ 
     Gwayn drew his sword. ‘Then it is for the last time, traitorous schemer.’ 
     The healer stepped forward but then fell to his knees as Gawain’s sword sliced cleanly through both windpipe and jugular. The knight had no mercy as he callously stepped over the dying man and reached towards the Princess. Ignoring her screams, he grabbed her by her long, golden hair and dragged her bodily from the bed and onto the hard, stone floor. 
     ‘Silence, slut,’ he said as his armoured boot drove all the breath from her naked body. 
     She clutched at her smashed ribs, screaming and crying as she was viciously kicked again and again until only half-conscious then cruelly dragged by the hair down the rough-hewn stairway and out into the castle courtyard, leaving a long trail of her blood on the stonework. Despite protests from some, she was then strung by her wrists from the main castle gateway. The whole city gradually gathered around to see the spectacle and Gwayn was intensely enjoying her humilition. 


     ‘So, my pretty one, I have won at last,’ he gloated as she hung silently before him. 
     The deep, blue eyes were dulled with the pain from her battered body and had no effect on his actions as Gawain laughed aloud and drew his sharp dagger and held it in the air to the crowd’s delight. They had come to see blood and he was not going to disappoint them. He looked her in the eyes and grinned. 
     She murmured not as his dagger pricked the skin of her belly. Neither did she utter a sound as he forced the dagger in and upwards. Her eyes opened slowly as the colour gradually drained from her face but the crowd hushed suddenly as a choking started in Gwayn’s throat. His hands went instinctively to his neck as he fought to breathe and the blue eyes held his attention as he sank to his knees. He tried desperately to rise but an immense power took him by the throat and slowly began to crush his windpipe. 
     Gwayn looked up just once, imploring. Then, as Rowena’s own eyes finally closed, he pitched forward in death. Seeing this, the crowd went into a frenzy and viciously lashed out at her with swords and scythes. It was not long before there was little left which could be identified as having been the fair-haired Sæxon Princess who had borne King Arthur’s brood. 

TWO

     Against all the odds, the girl child was spared. As shame came with the dawn, no-one had either heart or inclination to do away with the baby after what had happened to her mother. Princess Rowena’s remains were collected together and buried with honour in the King’s own tomb while Gwayn’s body was dumped in an unmarked grave outside the city walls. 
     It was some time before it began to be commented upon that the child was not like other children. As a baby, Princess Ædra of Camelot never cried, never sighed and, at three, sat in her room, never playing with the other children of the city, as if half of her life was missing. By the time she was seven, it seemed clear to everyone that she would never speak. The reason was not understood but, somehow, the shock of hearing what had happened to her mother had closed her mouth to words. 
     It was not that the child was ignorant. On the contrary, the considerable time she spent alone in the King’s chambers with Moryna the midwife, who had taken it upon herself to help the girl, gave the young Princess years of opportunity to learn to read and write, something not generally bothered with by most in the realm. At eleven, she was able to write long essays and poetry came from her crayon like the dust from a villein’s ploughshare in autumn. However, in spite of her great intelligence, the people grew to abhor her very existence not simply for what she was, but what some said she stood for - peace with the distant Anglisc.

     As the following May approached, the final details for the annual spring festivities were being discussed by a committee of knights and druids, sitting at a round table now twisted and chipped with age. 
     ‘Are the arrangements for Beltane well in hand?’ asked Sir Brian. 
     ‘Almost all complete, My Lord,’ said the Chief Druid. ‘There is just the matter of the annual sacrifice to the sun to be considered.’
     ‘Is not that decided on the day?’ asked Sir Dinaden, suspicious as to the motives involved. ‘The virgin in question, by tradition, is chosen from those dancing through the fires around the sacred pole of Astaerti.’ 
     ‘Traditionally, you are right. I do however have a suggestion to make.’ The others sat in silence, hardly daring to dispute a man with so much uncanny power. ‘I recommend that we... arrange things so that Princess Ædra becomes the sacrifice.’ 
     ‘The King’s daughter?’ shouted a younger knight. ‘Are you mad, my Lord Khana?’ 
     ‘Not in the slightest, Sir Malion. There is good reason for my suggestion.’ 
     ‘Have you already forgotten what happened to Gwayn when he tried to trifle with the girl’s mother? I tell you, these Anglisc are possessed of spirits we do not understand.’ 
     ‘All the more reason for her demise, surely. Already, there are many who fear her in the castle. They say that she is a witch and can cast a spell on us all.’ 
     ‘What evidence do you have for such an accusation?’ interrupted the senior knight. 
     The Druid smiled. ‘I have no evidence, Sir Brian - I merely repeat what others are saying. But consider,’ he said, leaning forward on the table. ‘Whose daughter would you rather see sacrificed? Your own, perhaps?’ 
     The knight was deeply offended at the implied criticism. ‘My Lord Khana, it is a very great honour to be sacrificed as the May Queen.’ 
     ‘Certainly it is. However, I still believe that on the day, every father would rather it be someone else’s child who was burning alive. Don’t you agree?’ 
     They were silent, so he continued. ‘We could make it an occasion for honour to the gods. Bel would be well pleased to receive so exalted a sacrifice. Our future prosperity will be guaranteed by such a fine gift to him.’ 
     Sir Alfred spoke for the first time. ‘There is much wisdom in what you say, My Lord Khana, but it still does not seem right. What if the Anglisc get to hear of what we will have done to the daughter of their Princess Rowena?’ 
     ‘They will not hear of it as they did not hear of the death of her mother twelve years ago. And if they do, what will happen? They are a pathetic lot, spread out over the useless lowlands in the east, disorganised, disunited. They have had no real leader since Hengist died and his son is completely useless to them. No, my lord knights, we have nothing at all to fear from the Anglisc.’


     The entire population of Camelot followed the girl with the golden-hair as she was led to the high Tor on the moor above the city. Many commented that, as she walked, her blue eyes were seen to concentrate hard and as if she was straining to communicate with some unknown, distant person. The tor was not high but overlooked the city and the vally plain upon which it had been built just forty years previously. The girl did not object as men held her arms and firmly lashed her wrists high above her head while others stacked up the faggots around her feet and the wind blew gently from the west. 
     As noon approached, the twelve-year-old hung there silently, dressed only in a light shift, as the druid stood before her, blazing torch in hand, and commenced the wailing prayer to the sun-god. The crowd gradually joined in as the waving of the torch mesmerized them into a trance. At the climax of the festivities, the chief druid plunged his torch into the dry bracken and wood around the young girl’s feet and the crowd cried out with delight. 
     The flames caught immediately and began to lick upwards as the wind took on a sudden gust. As the fire crackled and blazed, the sky suddenly grew dark with thunder and many of the crowd of worshippers looked anxiously around them, close to fear. As the fire almost reached the girl’s bare legs, the wind swung round and a great gust came from the east and the flames began to pucker and die down. The young Princess smiled as the darkened sky started to flash with lightning and drip with the first heavy spots of rain. Some of the crowd dispersed in panic as the rains then fell in a mighty onslaught which completely put out the flames and stung their flesh while the druid fought to remain standing upright in front of the girl. 
     He looked up and into those staring, blue eyes and felt the first real fear deep inside him. His own power was useless and he knew what he had to do, and he had to do it immediately. Raising his arm, he brought his dagger blade slashing down. An inch from her chest, his arm became paralysed. With two hands, he tried with all his strength to force it down, into her, to rip out her heart, but could not. 
     Dropping the useless blade, he clambered up onto the still smouldering faggots and gripped Ædra by the throat, forcing himself to avoid those hypnotic eyes. His hands went easily around her neck and he squeezed with all his might and was pleased when she began to choke. 
     Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his back, followed by a strange feeling in his body. Slowly, his hands loosed from her throat as he looked down at the iron arrow-head protruding from his chest. Hardly able to stand, he slowly turned to see the rider who stared down at him as he fell to his knees, his mouth open in supplication. The boy’s fair hair was plastered to his skull by the rain which continued to torrent from the sky, his bare legs running with water as he sat astride the white horse, bow in hand. The dying druid looked up, imploringly, as the rider slipped the bow over his shoulders and drew the long sword which glistened in the rain. Nudging his horse forward, the boy towered above the Druid as he slashed down with his sword, severing the bonds which held the girl to her sacrificial pole. 
     Springing from the ground, Ædra nimbly leapt straight up behind the young lad and smiled. Those still left at the site looked from one to the other of them and were amazed at the resemblance. Twins had been born before in Camelot, but none so identical as these. As if they were in some kind of a dream, they then heard the voice they had never heard before ringing out loud and clear. 
     ‘You wished to benefit the community by my sacrifice as you had wished it by the murder of my mother. You are wrong. For your betrayal of the trust bestowed upon my father the King, this land is cursed. From this day forward, the crops you plant will wither and your flocks will die of the plague.’ 
     The people stood, transfixed, as her final words sunk in. ‘All the unborn children of the land will be stillborn and any conceived in the future will suffer immediate miscarriage. You sought to wipe out my father’s brood, so I will ensure that your land will see more death than it has ever seen before.’ 
     It was a long time before anyone spoke as the rain continued to cascade from the sky and the people stood, open-mouthed. 
     ‘Princess Ædra,’ spoke up one who believed her words. ‘Is this curse to be forever?’ 
     She looked down, first with scorn, then with a little pity. ‘It will last until you come to me and plead for your lives. When you beg before me, I will consider a reversal.’ 
     ‘But, Princess Ædra, Where will we find you?’ 
     ‘You will have to search for me, won’t you?’ she said sarcastically and touched her brother’s shoulder gently. As the crowd watched, the young twins rode off towards the east, into the pouring rain, with not one backward glance. 
     The crowd stared after them and one wondered. ‘Can we believe this curse?’ 
     ‘Did you see those eyes?’ spoke another. 
     ‘What of the boy?’ remarked a third. 
     ‘And the gleaming sword?’ 
     The members of the group looked at each other and said together, ‘Excalibur!’ 
     ‘How can that be?’ sneered another. ‘It was lost to King Arthur. No-one else has claim to, nor power of, the sword.’ 
     ‘Except,’ said one, deep in thought. ‘Except a son of the King.’ 
     ‘But the King had only a girl!’ 
     ‘Did he? Princess Rowena may have been cleverer than we gave her credit for. Perhaps she gave birth to not one, but two children.’ 
     The man gasped. ‘A twin brood?’ 
     ‘Yes, my friend. A double brood for double trouble. If they have inherited only half the power that their father had and they have Excalibur, only Merlin can save us now.’ 
     ‘Unless he is on their side. Perhaps their power is from him.’ 
     ‘If that is so, then we have no defence against the curse of King Arthur’s brood.’ 

THREE

     It continued to rain, precipitously, for three days. The early corn was completely destroyed by the raging floods which developed as a result and many animals, as well as people, were drowned as the river ravaged the entire countryside. Deeper and deeper grew the water until, the instant they reached the walls of Camelot, the rain abruptly ceased. Immediately, the clouds dispersed and the sun shone as never before. Within days, the floodwaters had receded to a mere trickle and the people tried, in vain, to shelter themselves from the scorching heat and irrigate what was left of their now meagre crops but it was futile. The whole land was devastated and torn. The sun continued to burn down upon them and, within two weeks, the land was utterly barren. 
     The curse of King Arthur’s brood began to come true. From that time forth, no live child was born in the whole of Camelot and even minor ailments could not be cured. By the end of that year, the population was to wither to less than one third of its former strength.
     
     In the meantime, Ædra sang as she and her brother rode quietly along Fosse Way through a mighty forest filled with deer. They had met few people since leaving the land of the Dumnovii and those whom they had met withered from Ædred’s gleaming sword. However, in a clearing close to Aqua Sulis, they found their road barred by a gang of bandits seeking plunder; evil-looking men armed with swords and daggers. The leader was a big, bearded man with a long whip which he cracked ceaselessly. 
     Ædred stopped and placed his hand upon the sword but his sister touched his shoulder and then slipped quietly to the ground beside their horse. Still barefoot, but now dressed in a woolen shift given to her by a friendly family near ÆscÆstra, she walked towards the leader. The whip slashed inches from her face as she walked with head high and oblivious of his efforts to produce fear, until she stood before his horse. 
     ‘So, my pretty one,’ the leader called with a laugh. ‘You will make fine sport for us tonight. It has been some weeks since we have used a virgin.’ His men bellowed in agreement. 
     She stared up at him until the clearing grew quiet again. ‘If you do not let us pass,’ she declared, matter-of-factly; ‘I will kill you all.’ 
     The leader nearly choked as he tried to laugh and dismount at the same time. His men followed suit and several encircled her. 
     ‘So, you would kill us all, would you?’ He roared with laughter. ‘Hey, she looks like a SÆxon wench. My first, ha, ha. This I am really going to enjoy.’ 
     Ædra smiled and closed her eyes. The horses began to twitch nervously and one or two began to neigh frantically. The leader looked alarmed as the sky suddenly grew dark and threatening. Thunder rolled across the sky as the men struggled to control their mounts. 
     Ædred pushed his horse through the ring of frightened men until he stood behind his sister, Excalibur resting across his saddle. The men said nothing as Ædra leapt nimbly onto the horse behind him and put her hands carefully around his waist. 
     ‘What is your name?’ she asked of the leader as the thunder died away. 
     ‘Igor,’ the big man said, trying to swallow his fear. ‘They call me Igor the Mighty.’ 
     ‘Well, Igor the Mighty,’ she said in a sweet little voice. ‘I have decided to spare you.’ 
     ‘S...s...spare me?’ He could not believe his ears. Here, before him, was a skinny, fair-haired child who held a power over him he could not explain. 
     ‘Yes,’ she said. Her smile vanished. ‘However, if I ever see you again, I will kill you.’ She looked around at the faces watching her silently. ‘I will kill you all.’ 
     Ædred nudged his horse forward and they trotted from the midst of the gang and into the forest as the sun started to peek from behind a cloud.

     
     The month of Julius found them north of the Denu. They thought Æscafeld a strange place. Still occupied in part by Britons of a different tribe to those in the South-West, they were a farming people with just a few forts, one built on a maidun, or hillock, at Wincobank with another more fortified one a mile to the north. The people were the Brigantes and, despite the Anglisc appearance of the twins, they were hospitable to them. Later, they stopped briefly at the ruins of Burgh Conan and paid homage to their grandfather who had died there so many years before. 
     From there, Ædra knew of only one place. She had read in the archives at Camelot that, after the battle to take the castle, her surviving relatives had been taken from Burgh Conan to Ebor. If that was true, then it was to Ebor they must go. 
     It was on that part of the journey that Ædred revealed where he had been brought up. Moryna, the midwife, had taken him to her sister’s home near Glastunburgh and this family had brought him up as if he was their own. The farm where he had lived had bred horses and Ædred had become very skilled in riding and swordsmanship, though still but a boy. Only the call he had received in his mind that almost-fateful May day, had brought him riding to Camelot. 
     Many marvelled at the twins as they travelled and they were never in want of food or shelter. The two of them were inseparable and ate, drank together and, much to the dismay of some, slept together. In each other’s company, they were happy and contented. Separated, they, especially Ædra, withered. Apart from her brother, she neither ate nor spoke, some believing her to be dumb. When together, she blossomed. 
     The city of Ebor, they liked. There were still plenty of Britons around, but there were also many Anglisc and it soon became clear that the two peoples had learned to live in relative peace. They wintered at the old Romano-Celtic city and lived for a while with a middle-aged Anglisc couple with no children of their own. Karl, as the man was called, told them long, and probably tall, stories of their long sea voyage from Schleswig and their first raids along the Northumberland coast. Ædra would sit for hours in front of the log fire, her arms clutched around her knees, her innocent eyes big and wide, simply listening to this SÆxon warrior-turned-shipbuilder talk of his brave exploits. His wife, Inga, would smile and feed them wonderful meals they had never sampled at Camelot. The old couple never once asked them about their own life, except to ask if their parents were still alive. When questioned, Ædred had simply replied that they had both died and nothing more was asked. 
     That winter was cold but pleasant. They saw their first real snowfall during the month of Janus and took great delight in grabbing handfuls of it and throwing it at each other. Ædred would ride down the bank of the Eause on a piece of wood like a sleigh and skid across the ice on it whilst Ædra would spend hours just playing in the soft, woolly blanket which had covered the landscape. 
     That spring, Ædra developed. With good meals and fair treatment, she was beginning to fill out in places where she had previously not even had places. Boys admired and flirted with her but were always frightened away by the strange, quiet, young man who was never very far away. A month before their fourteenth birthday, they were ready to travel again. 
     ‘Must you leave?’ asked Inga as they packed their meagre belongings together. 
     Ædra nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. We have come all this way to try to find our uncle. He is not here, so we must continue our search to the north.’ 
     ‘But, since prior to the battle of Burgh Conan, no one had seen nor heard of him. He is probably long dead by now.’ 
     ‘Even so, Inga. I feel we must try. We have been told that there is an Anglisc community on the other side of the Great Moor. We shall try there.’ 
     Inga sighed in resignation. ‘Promise me something.’ 
     ‘Of course,’ said Ædra pleasantly. ‘You have been so kind to both of us.’ 
     ‘If you do not find what you are looking for, come back here.’ 
     ‘You are very kind, Inga. You, too, Karl. We will never forget your kindness. If we do not find happiness to the north, we will definitely return to Ebor.’ 
     ‘Do go carefully, my dears,’ pleaded the older woman as Ædra jumped up and slipped her arms around Ædred, already in the saddle. 
     ‘Please don’t worry, Inga. My brother will look after me. He usually does.’ 
     ‘Very well. You know that you have a home here whenever you want one. Our house will seem very empty without you.’ 
     ‘Not for much longer,’ said Ædra as her brother nudged his horse into motion. 
     Inga clutched at her husband’s hand as a strange look came over the young girl’s face. ‘Wh..what do you mean?’ 
     ‘Don’t you know?’ called Ædra over her shoulder as they left the boatyard. ‘You are going to have a baby.’ 
     Inga laughed. ‘A baby? Me? At my age?’ 
     Ædra smiled mischievously. ‘Trust me.’

     
     The sun shone brightly as they trotted quietly along the narrow track which followed the ridge of hills above Thirsk Marsh. They were once again in British territory and had to be careful as they passed many villages, although some of them were long deserted. 
     As they ate lunch beside a great cliff on the western edge of the hills, they watched a family of bears playing in the copse below them. Looking across the wide emptiness of the Swayl valley, they could see another range of hills in the far distance and wondered at the things they saw. Ædra lay back on the grassy slope and pulled up her skirts to soak up the sun while birds sang and animals played. 
     ‘You’re very quiet today, my brother,’ she ventured without opening her eyes. 
     ‘I think of the wars, little sister, and wonder why. Why, when all can enjoy a fine day like today, do men still fight and kill?’ 
     ‘That’s easy, brother dear. They do it because they enjoy it.’ 
     ‘Enjoy it?’ He sat bolt upright, disbelieving his sister. ‘It means death to many of the fighters. Crops are destroyed needlessly, women raped and children harmed.’ 
     ‘Nevertheless. They must like it.’ Ædra rolled over onto her stomach and looked up at him, her long legs kicking in the sun. ‘Take this part of Britannia. We have ridden a whole day’s journey from Ebor and hardly passed a single house nor person, just miles of empty countryside and forest. There is room for everyone here, but men fight over a few yards in a town. It is completely senseless.’ She shrugged. ‘But true.’ 
     Her brother pondered, deep in thought, for a moment. ‘Will it ever end?’ 
     ‘No.’ She shook her head with certainty. 
     ‘Never?’ 
     ‘My brother, I spend a lot of time reading minds and hearts. I do not see love and peace, I see envy, greed and hatred.’ 
     ‘You read minds other than mine?’ 
     ‘Yes. I am cheeky.’ She rolled onto her back, her arms stretched above her head as the sun warmed her face. ‘Sometimes, I even find myself manipulating them.’ 
     ‘How?’ Ædred asked as he knelt beside her and gently touched the soft skin of her face. 
     Ædra closed her eyes and smiled. ‘Well, I can walk down a busy street and read only nice thoughts. Then, I simply look at a man and I read the change in his mind. He sees me no longer as a child but is thinking of what he would like to do to me, and they are not always pleasant desires I recognise. Sometimes, I also read the other thoughts around me and see envy in other men and find some hating the first man, simply because I looked at him. Why is that, when I could have pleased them all?’ 
     ‘Ædra!’ He was shocked. ‘What have you been up to?’ 
     She sat up and hugged his arm. ‘Nothing, my dear brother, I am teasing. You see, you are jealous, too.’ 
     He was playfully offended. ‘I have every right. I love you.’ 
     ‘Of course you do, and I you. But some only love to hate and wound.’ 
     ‘I don’t always understand you, Ædra. Often we are so alike. At other times, so different.’ 
     ‘It’s odd,’ She pondered, changing the subject. 
     ‘What is?’ 
     ‘When we saw that there were Britons in Ebor. At first I wanted to destroy them for what had happened to mother but, after a while, I found that I was liking them. They are not all the same, you know.’ 
     ‘Nor are the Anglisc, though many Britons see us as all the same.’ 
     She kneeled up suddenly and faced her brother. ‘We must find a way to bring peace.’ 
     ‘You and I?’ 
     ‘Why not? We have a power. If it can be used for evil, it can also bring good.’ 
     ‘Can it? It depends who’s power it is.’ 
     ‘What do you mean?’ she asked cautiously. 
     ‘Have you never thought about where your powers originate.’ 
     She shrugged. ‘No, I just use them.’ 
     ‘To kill?’ 
     ‘I would if necessary.’ 
     ‘To heal?’ 
     ‘I’ve never tried.’ 
     ‘There. You are as bad as the others.’ 
     She put her hands on his knee, her eyes big and wide. ‘No, I’m not. I tried to help Inga, didn’t I?’ 
     ‘You don’t yet know whether it will work. She may not give birth. She is beyond the age, you know.’ 
     Ædra looked at her brother and said with certainty, ‘She will give birth, I know it.’ 
     ‘You guess it.’ 
     She gripped his hand. ‘Ædred. Don’t make me doubt. When I doubt, I fail.’ 
     ‘I’m sorry.’ 
     He bowed his head and she shuffled up to him on her knees. 
     ‘Hold me,’ she said and her brother sat close and held her tight as she wept in the warm sunshine. The bears were still playing, the birds still singing, but the world was suddenly a sadder place. 
     They fell asleep in each other’s arms and, when they awoke, the sun was red on the line of distant hills. Ædra rose from lying beside her brother and brushed the grasses from her woollen dress. Walking to the edge of the steep escarpment, she looked towards the sun. Her upbringing had told her that this large, red object in the sky was her god but she didn’t entirely believe it. No light in the sky could give her the powers she possessed. There had to be another god, one who was far more powerful, perhaps even one who could also want peace in Briannia. 
     ‘If there is a god out there,’ she shouted with arms outstretched. ‘Hear me now. I want you, I need you. Please help me to see you, to feel you, to worship you. Help me try to bring peace to this country. Help me to be what you want me to be. I am but a child but I am yours, no-one else’s. Pleeeease,’ she implored as she fell to her knees and said quietly with head bowed; ‘Help me.’ 
     The sun dipped its lower edge onto the distant Bowes Moor and did not reply. Her brother’s hand on her shoulder was soothing as her tears flowed through the hands covering her face. As the disc slowly dipped out of sight, she rose and held Ædred tight in the semi-darkness. They slept again where they were, under the stars and the brilliant-white, almost-full moon. It was odd - the moon didn’t answer her either.

     
     Dawn arrived early, but Ædra had been awake for a long time, thinking. She looked down at her brother, sleeping peacefully, Excalibur at his side. She smiled while her fingers toyed with his fair hair as he slept and she wondered what the place would be like where they were going. Looking out across the valley, her eyes strayed northward toward the forests covering the lower hills to her right. Tomorrow, they would see the end of these hills and, they had been told, would be in a wide valley where fish jumped out of the river to be eaten. 
     She laughed at the thought and Ædred stirred. ‘I’m sorry, brother dear, I didn’t mean to wake you.’ 
     ‘Is it morning?’ 
     ‘The sun has just risen behind us.’ 
     He sat up. ‘Then we must ride without delay if we are to reach Iarum by nightfall.’ 
     She jumped to her feet and tucked the hem of her skirt into her belt, her long legs now noticeably losing their stark whiteness. ‘No, you ride. I want to run.’ 
     ‘Run?’ He was amazed. ‘To Iarum?’ 
     ‘I will ride when I become tired. I have a trouble that exercise may drive away.’ 
     ‘A trouble?’ he queried, a little concerned. 
     She grinned at him. ‘An internal trouble, my brother. A trouble that a boy would not understand.’ 
     ‘I don’t follow.’ 
     ‘See what I mean?’ she laughed, running away from him along the edge of the long, north-to-south ridge of the Hambletun Hills.

     
     The sun was high in the sky when she finally ceased running and flopped down the soft grass beside a group of ancient burial mounds. 
     Ædred rode up and dismounted. ‘Have you driven the fire from your bones yet?’ 
     ‘No, but I’m close.’ Her chest rose and fell as she lay stretched out in the hot sunshine. She turned her head. ‘Do we have any food left?’ 
     Ædred looked in his saddlebag. ‘Just rye bread and a little cold mutton from Ebor.’ 
     She sat up. ‘Very well. Let’s eat.’ 
     ‘I’d be very suprised if you weren’t starving after all that exercise,’ he said, handing her half of the food. ‘I expected you to fall down at any moment.’ 
     ‘I must drive the madness from inside me,’ she said between mouthfuls. 
     ‘What? Why?’ He kneeled beside his sister. 
     ‘I don’t know why or even how. I just have this overwhelming feeling that I must try to control myself. If I use the power I possess in haste or fear, innocent people could be hurt. I have no right to do that.’ 
     ‘You have every right to destroy those who struck down our mother.’ 
     She brushed the crumbs from her woollen dress. ‘Do you know how it was done?’ 
     ‘No. Moryna’s sister spared me the details.’ 
     ‘And me, but I read the city records. The main entries have been deleted.’ She shrugged. ‘Shame I expect. However I checked the local death records. She was cut to pieces, you know.’
     Ædred was horrified. ‘Our mother? By whom?’ 
     ‘The records officially list someone called Gwayn but details revealed that the whole town set upon her and literally chopped and tore her apart. That’s why I could feel no mercy for them.’ 
     ‘Now who’s bearing grudges?’ 
     She was concerned. ‘Do you think I am?’ 
     ‘Yes. But I suppose it is with good right.’ 
     ‘Do you not feel the same?’ 
     ‘Sometimes, but not often. I am just glad to be away from there.’ 
     ‘So am I.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ 
     ‘Aren’t you tired?’ 
     ‘Yes, but still rotten inside. Catch me if you can,’ she shouted, hitching up her skirts and running, barefoot, into the future. 

FOUR

     The hills gradually lessened in height during the afternoon as Ædred trotted his horse in his sister’s wake. With every moment, he was sure that she would collapse from the exertion, but she didn’t. She paused only once. They burst forth from a thick wood and the land dropped away into the valley down a steep incline which followed a small stream. After only the briefest of hesitation, she plunged down the slope and Ædred’s horse had great difficulty in keeping up with her. Any moment, he thought, she is going to crash into one of those big, red-streaked rocks and break her poor little body open with the impact. Her long legs struggled to keep her upright but, somehow, they won the battle until she was almost at the bottom. As he watched in horror, she then fell, rolled down the rest of the slope and lay still. 
     Ædred leapt from the horse and dropped beside her, suddenly pained at heart about what he had allowed her to do. He bent over her prostrate form and gently turned her onto her back, heart heavy with dread. She laughed. 
     ‘You little animal,’ he said, partly relieved that she was not hurt but also a little angry that she had played a cruel trick on him. ‘You worried me.’ 
     ‘You should have seen your face,’ she giggled, her hand to her mouth. 
     ‘Oh, it’s that funny, is it?’ He grabbed her and lifted her from the ground, dropping her, face-down, onto a moss-covered rock. Sitting on her back, he pulled out her skirts and let fly at her bottom with all his strength until she cried out for mercy. Several minutes later, he stopped belting her and walked away from her, disgusted with himself. 
     The whimpering finally stopped and little arms slipped around his waist from behind and she laid her head on his back. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said simply. 
     He turned suddenly and grabbed her hard, clutching her body to his. ‘Oh Ædra, what have I done?’ 
     ‘What someone should have done a long time ago.’ 
     He looked her in the face. ‘But I struck you. I hurt you.’ 
     ‘I won’t deny that,’ she said, snuggling herself up to him. ‘Promise me something.’ 
     ‘Of course, anything.’ 
     ‘Do it again if I deserve it.’ 
     He was shocked. ‘But you are my sister.’ 
     ‘All the more reason to protect me from myself. I am very happy.’ 
     He drew back a little. ‘Happy? Why?’ 
     ‘When you began to really hurt me, I wanted to strike back, to hurt you like you were hurting me, but I controlled myself. I proved that I can do it.’ 
     ‘Good. Now will you come onto the horse and ride?’ 
     ‘No,’ she said adamantly. 
     ‘No? Do I have to do it again?’ 
     ‘No.’ She pulled free from him, grinning. ‘I doubt if I will sit down for a week, on a horse or anywhere else. I’m going to have to walk now.’ 
     An hour later, they came to a gently-flowing river. Ædred dismounted and led the horse to drink while Ædra brought up the rear, a bunch of wild flowers in her hand. As she reached her brother, she held out the bouquet. ‘Peace offering?’ 
     Her brother took them and smiled, running his fingers gently down her dirty face. ‘Do you know something? You are filthy.’ 
     ‘Race you to the river,’ she said, slipping her dress over her head and running for the water. Ædred did not move as she dived into the cool water. 
     ‘Come on in,’ she shouted to him, bouncing up and down in the water, the red glow of the sunset reflecting from the water on her body. ‘Don’t be shy.’ 
     Ædred tied the horse’s reins to a tree branch and waded into the water. Ædra looked playfully angry. ‘Not with your clothes on, silly. Take them off, I won’t look.’ 
     Her brother slipped off his smock and sat down in the water. He had to admit, it was very enjoyable - the water running over him as the sun went down. Eventually, she swam over to him and they lay together hand-in-hand, half floating in the water. 
     The sun still had a little warmth and it shone on her face as she lay with her eyes closed but it was not Ædred’s shadow which fell across her. Turning over in the water, she looked up at the group of tow-haired men with spears who stood and watched them without comment. Ædred looked towards his horse where Excalubur hung and wondered if he could make it before being cut down. Ædra realised the predicament, stood up slowly and closed her eyes. 
     ‘No, Ædra,’ said her brother, putting his hand on her shoulder. ‘This is not the way.’ 
     ‘I read both fear and hatred in their minds.’ 
     ‘Perhaps it is the fear of the unknown,’ he said quietly as he watched the men. 
     ‘Very well, I will wait but, if they try to hurt you. I will kill them.’ 
     ‘It’s more likely to be you they will want. I don’t suppose they come across many naked girls in the river.’ 
     ‘I do not sense lust. Only fear.’ 
     ‘Perhaps they mean us no harm.’ 
     As he spoke, the leader stepped forward and stood before her, touching her golden hair. Then he ran his fingertips across the pale skin of her chest and she shivered a little. The man turned and spoke to the other men. 
     ‘Hwaet, gwa noft thrym bwon,’ he called and one of the men retrieved her dress and gave it to her. Her head went on one side a little as she held the dress in front of her body, more than a little surprised. 
     ‘Thank you,’ she said to him. She put her hand on her chest. ‘I am Ædra. Ædra.’ She pointed to her brother. ‘This is Ædred. We are Ædra and Ædred.’ 
     ‘Ædra?’ he queried. ‘Anglisc?’ 
     She nodded. ‘Yes. Anglisc.’ Not that they spoke this dialect of Anglisc. They had been brought up in and around Camelot where they spoke a mixture of Romano-Celtic with a bit of Phoenecian thrown in for good measure. The only Anglisc they had learned was that whilst in Ebor. 
     ‘Our father was British,’ she said. 
     They didn’t understand that and the leader indicated that she should put on her dress. She did, as Ædred pulled on his smock and walked towards his horse. Two of the men watched him carefully but he simply took the reins and stood beside his sister. Ædra held his hand and smiled at the men. The leader stared back and then indicated that they should follow him. 
     After walking for about ten minutes when they came to a small group of huts with stone bases and thatched tops on a slight rise beside the river. Heads popped out of doorways as the procession went into the centre of the village where several other men sat close to a freshly-lit fire. 
     ‘Anglisc,’ said the leader of the group that had brought them, as if that explained everything. 
     He rattled away for several minutes in an unintelligible tongue until the others laughed and looked at Ædra who she guessed that they were talking about her. But she sensed no malice and relaxed, squeezing Ædred’s hand to convey confidence. They were invited to sit and then offered baked fish from the river which they accepted eagerly. The village folk watched them as they ate and laughed when they had finished. 
     ‘You hungry,’ said one. Ædra laughed back and nodded to him. 
     Apparently the village was called Crayethorne, and Iarum was but a short walk to the north. The river which ran through the village joined the River Teas near Iarum. There, they were told, the fishing was very good. 
     Ædra looked around. It was clear that fishing was also the chief means of livelihood in Crayethorne, though they had passed a few animals that looked like a kind of cattle on the nearby carrs. She was offered a white liquid in a bowl and the indications were that she was to drink. She looked at her brother and wondered what sort of wine this could be so she drank a little and was surprised at its thickness and sweet taste. 
     ‘Milk,’ said one of the men and pointed to a cow in the next field. 
     Milk? she thought. That’s an odd name to give a cow. 
     ‘Where you from?’ asked one of the men. 
     ‘Camelot,’ Ædra explained. They understood that and it caused quite a ruckuss as the couple sat patiently. 
     ‘You from Camelot?’ he asked again. 
     ‘Yes.’ 
     ‘Arthur?’ 
     She smiled. ‘My father, papa.’ 
     That got them. ‘Your papa, Arthur? You young King?’ 
     ‘Not me,’ she laughed and pointed to her brother. ‘Ædred, young king. Prince Ædred.’ She put her hand on her chest. ‘Me, Princess Ædra.’ 
     ‘Princess Ædra? Daughter Arthur?’ 
     She nodded. 
     They became suspicious. ‘You not Anglisc?’ 
     How would she explain this? ‘Mother Anglisc,’ she offered. 
     No? try again. 
     ‘Mama?’ Puzzled heads shook. 
     ‘Madre?’ Nods. ‘Madre, Anglisc,’ she explained. 
     The leader moved towards her. ‘Your madre, Anglisc? Who?’ 
     ‘My madre was Princess Rowena.’ 
     ‘Rowena? Brother is Æsc?’ This was too much for them to believe in one day. 
     ‘My madre’s brother is Æsc,’ she nodded. ‘Yes. Where is he? Where is Æsc?’ 
     ‘Where? Gone.’ Heads were bowed. Their “gone” conveyed clearly what they meant. 
     They all fell silent as darkness descended on the village and, eventually, a woman of indeterminate age touched Ædra on the shoulder and bade her follow. She was led to a square hut where the floor had been recently cleaned and a new skins laid. The woman tried to lead Ædred to another hut but Ædra shook her head and hung on tightly to her brother’s hand. The woman gave up and they settled down to sleep.
     
     Come the morning, there were strangers in the village and Ædra was collected at first light and led to the village centre where all the men were already gathered. Two men guarded Ædred a short distance away whilst another man held up Excalibur and tested its weight in his hand. Something had gone wrong, Ædra sensed, but she didn’t know what. One of the strangers spoke to her. 
     ‘I am told you are Princess, daughter King Arthur.’ He waited for a reply as she considered carefully. ‘Is true?’ 
     She nodded as she stood before him, hands together in front of her woolen dress. ‘Papa is Arthur. Madre is Rowena.’ 
     He struck her hard across the face. ‘You lie. Arthur no daughter. Rowena no children.’ 
     ‘I do not lie,’ she spat back at him, fighting to keep control of herself. He hit her again, this time with his fist and she saw stars and tasted blood in her mouth as she was pushed back towards this sadistic stranger. She shook her head and forced herself not to look at him as he punched her vicioustly in the stomach, almost making her retch. 
     She stared at the ground and fought for breath as he laughed at her discomfort, then a great hand grabbed her shift at the front and she was lifted from the gound and slammed against the wall of a hut while men grabbed her arms and pulled while the stranger paced up and down before her, considering carefully where next to strike her with the most effect. 
     ‘Don’t,’ she cried, shaking her head as tears flowed down her cheeks. ‘Don’t make me do it.’ 
     ‘Slut,’ was the last word she heard as his massive fist hit her again, driving all the breath from her body. 
     When she came round, she was tied over a large slab alongside her brother who was just recovering from a similar treatment as the stranger stood before her, Excalibur in hand. The village people had felt fear, but this man had very different vibes coming from him. She should have known right from the start when he had started on her before her brother. This man loved hurting women and girls. A mixture of lust and sadism oozed from him and she could not avoid the feeling of revulsion which was slowly overwhelming her. 
     ‘So she is awake,’ he said as she stirred. ‘She awake,’ he shouted and the villagers gathered around. 
     The man walked around her for a while and then held the point of Excalibur near her face and smiled. She looked up at him with scorn and then forced herself to close her eyes. 
     The stranger stuck the sword in the earth and it fell over. Puzzled, he picked it up again and slammed it, two-handedly, into the dry earth and it flew out of his hands. Poised in the air, it hovered, vertically, an inch above Ædra’s heart. She opened her eyes. 
     ‘I give you one last chance,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t make me kill you.’ 
     The man stood before her and snatched at the sword, which moved just out of his reach. 
     ‘Free? Never.’ He spoke to the men around him and pointed to her. ‘Kill,’ he commanded. They hesitated. This was something beyond their comprehension. 
     ‘Very well, I’ll do it myself,’ he said, leaning towards her with undisguised lust in his eyes. He was not quick enough. Excalibur’s blade was blurred as it slashed downwards at her bonds and Ædra sat up and stared into his face. With eyes wide open in horror, he screamed and backed away, his hands to his ears. She stood up slowly and walked towards him as he backed away from her. 
     ‘Ædra,’ called her brother. ‘Don’t kill him.’ 
     She stopped at her brother’s words, glared at him for a moment and then started to remove the cut thongs from her wrists and ankles. The man stood watching her for a few seconds then launched himself at her, his hands reaching for her throat. However, Excalibur got there first and some of his blood spattered onto her dress as his head slowly toppled to one side, then bounced as it hit the ground. 
     The men of the village fled in panic as she slowly turned towards her brother. ‘I had to do it, Ædred. I’m sorry.’ 
     Two women helped Ædred to be freed while a woman of about twenty-five walked to Ædra and bathed her face and wrists. The young girl smiled and touched the woman’s face gently as her eyes pierced to her very soul and read the deep pain written there. Their eyes stayed locked together for a moment and the young woman felt a strange, warm glow come over her whole body. Dropping to her knees, she kissed Ædra’s hand. 
     ‘Princess,’ she simply said. 
     Ædra held out her hands to the woman and helped her to her feet and then kissed her cheek. ‘When you come to see me in the autumn, bring the baby with you.’ 
     ‘Baby?’ said the woman. ‘Me, have baby?’ 
     Ædra was puzzled. ‘Isn’t that what you want?’ 
     ‘Oh yes,’ she said clutching Ædra tightly. Her face fell. ‘But I loose four.’ 
     Ædra’s hand lifted the woman’s chin gently as she looked into her eyes. ‘You will lose no more.’ 
     She looked at her brother, who was massaging his wrists after being set free. 
     ‘I think that our welcome has run out here,’ he said. 
     ‘You are right.’ She turned to the woman and pointed to the decapitated stranger. ‘Where is he from?’ 
     ‘Him chieftain from Iarum,’ the woman said and the teenagers looked at each other and sighed for the future. 
     Waving their thanks and goodbyes, they left an hour later, laden down with produce and gifts. They walked, leading the horse behind them. 
     ‘You had to do it,’ said Ædred. ‘You had no choice.’ 
     ‘But I killed him,’ she said softly. 
     ‘He would have killed you. Then he would have killed me. You saved my life, little sister.’ 
     She laid her head on his shoulder as his arm encircled her lovingly. ‘How can I stop? Must I go on like this forever until I am killed myself.’ 
     ‘I hope not. However, I fear that Iarum does not bode well.’ 
     ‘We shall see, my brother.’

     
     It was mid-afternoon by the time they arrived at the dyke which guarded the road into the town but they were given free passage. The news of the death of the chieftain had preceded them and the townspeople were playing it very cautious. The couple were led to the village square where they were made reservedly welcome. 
     Ædred thanked the men who had brought them and they were left alone for a while near a wooden building at the side of the market place. Several minutes later, two fair-haired men entered and greeted them warmly, bowing respectfully. 
     ‘You are Prince Ædred?’ the tall one asked and Ædred nodded and smiled. He turned to Ædra. ‘Princess Ædra? Daughter of Rowena of Hengist?’ 
     She smiled and curtsied. ‘Yes, My Lord. I am Ædra.’ 
     ‘I am Gann of Horsa,’ he explained. ‘And this is my brother, Klaus. You are my niece and nephew. I am honoured by your presence.’ 
     Ædra was clearly relieved. ‘I am so glad that I have found you, Uncle Gann.’ 
     ‘That makes me feel so old, child,’ he playfully chastised. ‘Please just call us Gann and Klaus. Perhaps we will not feel quite so old then.’ They all laughed and all tension disappeared. ‘Who is your father, child? Is it really King Arthur of Camelot?’ 
     ‘Yes unc...Gann. We are the children of King Arthur and Princess Rowena.’ 
     ‘Then we had better serve the best food and celebrate tonight. It is, after all, the last day of April.’ 
     Ædra looked at her brother sharply as memory flooded back. 
     Gann continued. ‘They will have fun on the Hill tomorrow, it being full moon as well.’ 
     ‘The H..h..hill?’ she asked, dread rising in her heart. 
     ‘Don’t look so worried, it has nothing to do with us. The river separates our little town from the village across the water where the druids have their high place.’ 
     ‘Druids? What is that place?’ Her voice was hoarse. 
     ‘They call it Eccles Cliff.’ He smiled. ‘We call it Devil’s Hill. Sacrifices are made there each year to...’ 
     She placed her hand on his arm. ‘I know all about the sacrifices. How can we stop it?’ 
     ‘Stop it, my child? You have as much chance of stopping their sacrificial rites as I have of catching ten stone of fish tomorrow morning.’ 

FIVE

     Iarum was a beautiful town. People had lived there since before the Romans had come to conquer the island they had called the White Land, Albion, but it had taken the inspiration of the Romans to build the road which ran north from Ebor, over the Cleveland Way, straight through the middle of Iarum and over a ford on the far side of the town. From there, the road ran northwards through a deep forest to Pons Ælius which crossed over the great River Tyn. Close to the south side of Iarum, on a maidun near the Roman Road, stood an old ruined fort, originally built by the Britons to hold back the invading Roman army but now empty and desolate. 
     The town of Iarum was naturally defensive. The River Teas almost completely encircled the town with just a short ithsmus defended by a dyke and ditch. On the whole, the area was inhabited by the Brigantes with only a few Anglisc families who had come in peace and been accepted, readily by most, with suspicion by the rest. 
     They rarely clashed. The Brigantes were mostly animal herders while the Anglisc lived off the land, growing crops on their dried-up water meadows. Both peoples engaged in fishing but there was plenty for all and disputes were rare. Iarum itself was a mixture, the most cosmopolitan town in the district. In addition to the Britons, two Roman families also lived by the river on the west side while Gann and Klaus lived with their Anglisc families in a settlement close to the ford, where the fishing was good. 
     People from miles around came to Iarum to trade by road and by barge, Iarum being the highest point on the Teas navigable by sea-going ships. At the foot of the hill from the south were a series of deep ponds along a narrow beck and, nearby, in the central triangular area, was the market where all came to buy and sell, regardless of race. 
     It seemed so peaceful on the surface though Ædra and Ædred were soon to learn that the peace was often an uneasy one and depended on one common source of fear - the dreaded Picts. They were a barbarian race who invaded and pillaged, being a constant threat to all the communities. Generally speaking, the locals found it more advantageous to maintain a sort of peace between themselves so as to be in a better position to repel the butchering enemy from the north.
     
     Aedra woke early on the morning of May-day, determined as to what she would do. 
     By first light, Gann and his eldest son, Jason, were already in their little boat, fishing below Eccles Cliff, when Ædra rose and stood on the bank, watching, in a long, white dress given to her by Klaus’s daughter, Helga. 
     ‘How’s the fishing, Uncle Gann?’ she shouted across the water to the fishermen. 
     ‘Average for this time of year, my child. You are up early after your long day yesterday.’ 
     ‘I wanted to watch you fish.’ She pointed downstream. ‘Have you tried over there?’ 
     ‘Not yet. The river is tidal here and the current can be very strong. I usually leave that area as a last resort.’ 
     ‘Why don’t you try it now, uncle?’ she said with a cheeky smile.
     ‘For you? Of course.’ he acquiesced. ‘Turn the boat, Jason.’ 
     The boat turned and fought to stay steady in the current while Jason dropped the nets over the side. Ædra closed her eyes.

     
     An hour later, Ædred arrived with Gann’s younger son, Gareth, and stood near to his sister as he watched her standing with hands clenched tightly in front of her. 
     ‘So you came?’ he said simply. 
     ‘Yes,’ she said almost in tears, turning to face him. ‘But it’s not working. I can’t do it. I can only do bad things, not good.’ 
     Ædred stepped over to his sister and put his arms around her. She struggled to keep back the tears of frustration and finally gained control of herself. Ædred dried her tears with the tips of his fingers then held her small, white face carefully in his hands and then gently kissed her as her eyes grew very wide. ‘Try it now.’ 
     Ædra looked totally confused for a moment as she looked deeply into his blue eyes. He smiled and she nodded a little and closed her eyes. 
     ‘Hey!’ came the immediate cry from the boat. ‘Gareth, come quickly. Give us a hand with the nets.’ 
     Ædra’s eyes sprung wide open as she heard Gareth dive into the water and swim towards the fishing boat which was in danger of capsizing under the load. 
     ‘I need you,’ she said quietly. 
     Ædred smiled and nodded. 
     ‘I can’t do it without you, I need you near me.’ 
     ‘I suspected as much. At Camelot, although you were able to communicate your fear to me, your power only began to work when I got near. We are a team, you see.’ 
     ‘Ædred, wed me,’ she pleaded with a long look. 
     He laughed. ‘I cannot. I am your twin brother.’ 
     ‘So?’ she said, puzzled as to the reason for his non-compliance. ‘Klaus married Gann’s daughter. Their daughter, Helga, married her uncle, Jason.’ 
     He shrugged. ‘Somehow, it just doesn’t seem right. Also, we are very young.’ 
     ‘Young?’ she cried. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We are fourteen years old.’ 
     He stroked her hair as it reflected the glow from the sun. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ 
     She nodded. ‘Ever since you kissed me.’ 
     ‘Come on. Lot’s of boys must have kissed you.’ 
     She shook her head. ‘Never. You are the first and only one.’ She snuggled up to him. ‘Kiss me again.’ 
     Embarrassed, he dropped her arms and stepped away. ‘Ædra, behave yourself.’ 
     She stamped her foot. ‘Shan’t.’ 
     ‘I’ll smack your bottom,’ he threatened playfully. 
     Before more could be done or said, Gann called Ædred over to help unload the boat. Ædra watched as her handsome brother ran to help then sat on the grass of the river bank watching the boats, and counted the baskets of fish that measured the weight in stones. At the tenth and last basket, she smiled and lay on her back with arms and legs outstretched. She momentarily glanced towards the sun by instinct, offering her body and soul in total submission, then forced her eyes away and into the deep blue unknown. 
     ‘Thank you,’ she said.

     
     It was the chanting which woke her. She raised her head and looked around. The menfolk had gone to take the fish to the market and she was alone on the river bank with the birds singing and fish jumping. Her eyes strayed across the river as she shielded her eyes from the bright noon-day sun and saw the figures moving slowly in procession up the hill Gann had called Devil’s Hill. The garb was familiar as were the sacrificial gowns of the young girls skipping about in the long grass. 
     She sat up suddenly and her eyes went dark. She must do something. Gann had warned her to keep away, not to interfere, but she was not going to let some young girl be burned alive on this beautiful spring day. 
     Gathering her skirts around her, she ran down to the edge of the river and jumped into Gann’s boat. She struggled with the rope until it came free and then paddled as she had seen the others doing until she reached the far bank. Jumping out, she tied the boat to a bush, and then ran up the slope. 
     About a hundred people stood around the top of the hill as the young virgins of the village danced round the may-pole, jumping through the fires which encircled it, the smoke seeming to rise towards the pole itself like streamers in the wind. 
     The druids beat a steady rhythm on their skin drums and the people were droning in a trance as Ædra walked between the fires and then, taking a deep breath, stepped into the circle. Abruptly, the drumming stopped and there was a deathly silence. 
     The Chief Druid, or Khana, moved first and shuffled over to the edge of the circle that none dare enter. It was several minutes before he spoke. ‘You are of the Anglisc from across the river?’ 
     She stood with head high, her Anglisc frame inches taller than any of them. ‘I am Princess Ædra of Camelot.’ 
     ‘Camelot?’ he asked, puzzled as others had been before. He looked at her pale skin, her fair hair, her blue eyes. ‘But you are Anglisc.’ 
     ‘My father was King Arthur,’ she explained. 
     ‘Then you must know what you have done.’ 
     ‘Yes. I have broken your circle. The sacrifice is cancelled.’ 
     ‘The sacrifice cannot be cancelled, you know that if you are, indeed, from Camelot. Bel needs a sacrifice, an untouched virgin, if we are to have any future at all.’ 
     ‘The sacrifice is cancelled,’ she stubbornly maintained. ‘I have broken the circle.’ 
     The Khana consulted his fellow druids then returned to stand at the edge of the circle. ‘Then we have no choice. You are to be the sacrifice. Is that what you want?’ 
     ‘I wish to offer you good crops and prosperity without the need of a human sacrifice.’ 
     He pointed at her. ‘Do not taunt Bel, my child. He can be a cruel lord.’ 
     ‘I curse Bel. He has no hold over me.’ She raised her head and arms towards the sun. ‘Bel, do you hear me? Kill me if you can,’ she shouted to the sky. ‘I dare you to take me.’ 
     One or two of the druids stepped forward and she pointed at them. ‘If Bel is a god, he can speak for himself. If he is powerful, he can kill me without your help. I spit at Bel and challenge him to combat, if he has the courage for it.’ 
     ‘You speak dangerous words, my daughter,’ said the chief druid. 
     ‘I speak the truth, but you are too stupid to see it.’ 
     The druid looked into the sky. ‘He commands me now to kill you, he wants you as sacrifice.’ 
     ‘I did not hear him.’ 
     ‘But he spoke to me.’ 
     ‘Why doesn’t he speak to me, or him or her?’ She pointed at individuals who were beginning to wish that they had gone fishing instead. Embarrassed, they would rather have been anywhere than in that place just then. 
     The chief druid stepped forward until he was right before her. Others went behind her. 
     She closed her eyes. ‘Ædred, here me now.’ 
     ‘Ædred? Is that your Anglisc god? You hope that he will save you now? No, my child, you came here to be sacrificed of your own free will. We cannot let you or Bel down.’ He turned to the others. ‘Tie her to the pole.’ 
     They grabbed her arms but she did not see them. Instead, she saw a young fair-haired youth jumping into a boat and starting across the wide river. The druid held his dagger close to her face and smiled back. ‘You would not take away our pleasure would you?’ 
     ‘It is not Bel who is doing this,’ she said quietly. ‘It is you. You are doing this, not for Bel, but for yourselves. You wish for power and honour from the people. You take their goods and crops and steal them for yourselves. It’s true, isn’t it?’ 
     ‘Of course, but you will not live to tell them the truth.’ 
     ‘I will live. It is you who are about to die.’ 
     He threw back his head and laughed long and loud. ‘You, a mere slip of a girl, tied to a stake, threaten me, a man with dagger ready to slit you open and throw your heart to the crowd?’ He put his face close to hers, real puzzlement beginning to show. ‘Why do you do this? What do you hope to gain?’ 
     ‘I wish to stop the sacrifices. Like I said, I can guarantee good crops and prosperity without the need for human sacrifice.’ 
     ‘You? You can do this?’ 
     ‘Why else would I be here?’ 
     ‘For the pleasure of being sacrificed, that’s why. It is a very great honour. All these young girls here would fight each other for the privilege of being where you are now.’ 
     She smiled. ‘I don’t think so.’ 
     ‘Ask them.’ 
     She looked around. ‘Who would like to be sacrificed instead of me?’ 
     No-one answered as Ædred pushed between the people and stepped into the circle. Ædra looked at him and shook her head slightly. He folded his arms and watched. 
     ‘I will make a bargain with you,’ she said. ‘Make no sacrifice today. If there is a good harvest and prosperity, you know that the sacrifices are unnecessary and they will never need be repeated. If there is poor harvest, I will return and you may do with me as you wish.’ 
     ‘You do know the penalty for not pleasing Bel with a sacrifice on May-Day, don’t you?’ 
     ‘Yes. The sacrificial victim-to-be must willingly make herself available to any man who wishes to use her, until the next May-Day. On that day, she must be slowly burned alive, dismembered and eaten by the village.’ 
     ‘For an Anglisc, you know your folk-lore well. Do you know what it is like to be a temple prostitute?’ 
     ‘I can guess.’ 
     ‘I doubt it. Are you a virgin?’ 
     She drew back her shoulders. ‘Of course.’ 
     ‘Then you cannot possibly imagine what it is like to be used many times a day by strangers.’ 
     Ædra shuddered. 
     ‘I thought not,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’ 
     She grinned. ‘Do I have any choice?’ 
     He looked at her bonds and smirked. ‘Very little.’ 
     He consulted again with the other druids and Ædra smiled at her brother who shook his head slowly and stuck the point of Excalibur into the soft soil. After a brief discussion, the Khana went round all the young girls and spoke to them. One by one, they pointed at the bound Ædra. Eventually, he returned to her. 
     ‘Well, Princess Ædra. It seems you are right.’ 
     ‘What has happened?’ 
     ‘I asked each of the girls who they would prefer to see sacrificed today and they were unanimous in their choice of victim.’ He pointed his dagger in her face. ‘You.’ 
     ‘Bel will be pleased with the decision you have made.’ 
     He reached up and cut the thongs which held her arms above her head. As she rubbed her sore wrists, he pointed the dagger at her again. ‘But mark my words, child, if Bel becomes angry and brings poor crops or bad weather, these people will roast you over a fire and literally eat you alive.’ 
     ‘My Lord Khana, if I am wrong, I shall have betrayed not only your people but myself, too. I shall want to die.’ She looked down. ‘I will deserve to die.’ 
     ‘So be it,’ he said. ‘You will join us for the festivities this afternoon, Princess?’ 
     ‘On one condition.’ 
     ‘Yes?’ he said, puzzled. 
     ‘My brother, Prince Ædred, comes too.’ 
     He looked over to her brother and smiled. ‘It shall be so.’ 
     She smiled back. ‘Then, my Lord Khana, I would be honoured to attend.’ 
     
     The festivities went on into the night and it was well after midnight when Gann arrived with a gang of men with swords. The music stopped as did the singing and dancing as Ædra got to her feet. 
     ‘Uncle Gann, how nice,’ she greeted with a broad smile. 
     He looked relieved. ‘So you are well?’ 
     ‘Of course,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘Come and meet the Khana.’ 
     The men put away their swords and the festivities re-commenced. Gann eventually sat down next to Ædra. ‘Who was the sacrifice?’ 
     ‘I was,’ she said, chewing on a piece of mutton. 
     ‘You were? But...’ 
     ‘They agreed to postpone until they saw whether the harvest would be good without a sacrifice.’ 
     ‘And you offered to be the sacrifice?’ 
     ‘If the crops fail, yes.’ 
     ‘By Thunor, they will eat you alive.’ 
     She smiled and pointed to the Khana. ‘That’s what he said.’ 
     ‘They mean it, my girl. And if we try to prevent it, they will wipe out all our families.’ 
     ‘It will not happen,’ she assured him. 
     ‘How can you be so sure?’ 
     There was a twinkle in her eye. ‘You caught fish today, didn’t you?’ 
     ‘You mean, you...’ 
     ‘Of course.’ 
     ‘You are a witch!’ 
     Ædra was playfully shocked. ‘Uncle Gann, that’s not kind. I did it for you.’ 
     He put his head in his hands. ‘What have we let ourselves in for?’ 
     She put her arm around his shoulders. ‘A future without death overshadowing us all the time. When these people see that their crops and the weather don’t depend on the quality of their sacrifice, they will stop. It is their way of worship which divides the people. We must be united if we are to stand up the the Picts.’ 
     ‘But it is such a dreadful risk you are taking.’ 
     ‘Uncle Gann,’ she said confidently. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ 

SIX

     That summer was good for Iarum. Salmon multiplied in the Teas and corn grew in the meadows lining the river. Jason and Helga had a beautiful baby girl whom they named Anna, and Ædra was never away from Helga's side after the birth. A stranger visiting the town might be forgiven for thinking that Ædra, not Helga, was the mother. 
     Ædra was changing. Her skin was no longer white from being enclosed in a cold, stone castle. She loved the sunshine and was gradually turning a deep brown under its power and it did marvels for her appearance. Gone was the painfully thin, white-skinned waif who had left Camelot more than two years earlier. A metamorphosis had taken place and the insignificant little caterpillar had become a beautiful butterfly. From the young twelve-year-old who had left Camelot, had evolved a tall, slim, suntanned young lady who turned heads wherever she went. 
     She had grown up emotionally, too, and her recent visit to Eccles Cliff had permanently cemented the relationship between the peoples. The bad feeling which had showed at times was all but gone. That is, until late July. 
     June had followed May as it always had and Ædra had become friendly with Carra, the Chieftain's daughter from Eccles Cliff. Neither Gann nor any of the family had made further mention of the events of May-Day again but Gann would no longer fish when Ædra was anywhere in the vicinity for fear of reprisals from Thunor. 
     During the first week in July, Ædred was invited to go on a three-week trip with Gann and Klaus to Binovia and, as Ædra was preoccupied with both Carra and Anna, he saw no reason not to. Of course, he had no way of knowing, but his absence at that time was to have a devastating effect upon his sister. 
     The sky was a little overcast as Ædra played with Anna on the grass near the river. She looked across and waved as Carra carried flowers down the far slope towards the boat being held in readiness to bring her across the river. At low tide, large wagons were able to ride through the river and even men on horseback when the current was on the ebb but, downstream, the river was impassable and, exept in the very dry season, upstream as far as the old Roman bridge where Dere Street crossed the Teas at Morbium. She watched as the boat came across and her eyes strayed to the fields of corn almost ready for cutting. Carra stepped from the boat and presented her friend with the flowers. 
     'Oh Carra, my friend,' she said, kissing her cheek in greeting; 'They are beautiful. May I share them with Anna?' 
     'Of course,' Carra laughed. 'Though I'm not sure whether the baby's mother would approve.' 
     'Helga won't mind,' she said, holding the flowers up for Anna to see though the baby was less than impressed. 'How is your father today?' 
     'Much better, thank you, Ædra. The trouble is, he won't relax. He keeps forgetting that he is over forty now and not as fit as he used to be.' 
     'Uncle Gann is like that, always on the go. That reminds me, they should be back soon.' 
     'I hope that Ædred was pleased with the trip,' smiled Carra. 'I like him very much.' 
     'So do I,' Ædra scolded with a smile; 'So keep your hands and eyes off him.' 
     'I'm sorry, Ædra,' said Carra as she sat down on the grass beside her friend. 'The two of you are very close, aren't you?' 
     'Carra,' Ædra said, holding her friend's hand. 'We are a lot closer than you think.' 
     'He told me that you are twins.' 
     'We are inseparable in ways that you cannot imagine. In fact,' she sighed, 'I am totally lost without him.' 
     'I can see that. I only hope he will return safely.' 
     A sudden pang struck Ædra's heart and she looked up sharply. 'Why do you say that?' 
     Carra looked to the west where the clouds were dark and thundery in the far distance. 'It is the weather.' 
     'Don't worry,' said Ædra, relaxing again as she observed the thin cloud covering overhead. 'We are safe here. The wind is from the south, so it cannot rain and spoil the crops.' 
     'You are right,' said the dark-haired girl. 'However, father was very worried this morning and watched the distant clouds for a long time without speaking.' 
     'Why?' Ædra asked, bouncing Anna on her knee. 
     'I don't know. When mother asked him about it, he muttered something about Greta.' 
     'Greta? Who is Greta?' she queried, almost absent-mindedly. 
     'I don't know. I think she must live on some place called Bowes Moor for he mentioned that as well.' 
     'I wonder who this Greta really is,' Ædra pondered.

     Thirty miles away, the lady in question was angry. After seventeen hours of laying, soaking up the water of continuous torrential rain, she was furious as she poured off Bowes Moor, bloated beyond recognition, and was joined by the equally glutted Ease Gill and Eller Beck. Together, they roared and cascaded down the hillside, gaining increasing momentum as they washed away the Roman Road at Greta Bridge and crashed into the already swollen Teas near West Wyke. Briefly held up by a landslip at Ovington, Greta fortified herself until, in a great display of immense power, she burst through in a mighty tidal wave which devastated everything in her path as she roared towards Dearnoth's Farm, deepening and strengthening with every mile. Greta was a lady on the rampage, hungry for destruction. 
     It was the sound which came first, or rather, the lack of it. Ædra suddenly pricked up her ears as the larks stopped singing, the thrushes became silent, the doves mute. She got slowly to her feet, her face suddenly white. 
     'Carra,' she said quietly, passing the baby to her friend and straining to listen. 'Take Anna and run to the maidun, quickly.' 
     'Ædra, what is it?' Carra asked, baffled by her friend's alarm. 
     'Go! There is no time to argue. Tell anyone you meet to go up to the old fort with you. You don't have much time.' 
     'But...' 
     Ædra pushed Carra firmly in the direction of the high ground to the south of the town and pleaded with her. 'Go! Please. Run for your life.' 
     Carra went and Ædra ran to the meeting house where a big, bronze bell hung from the doorway. She shook the clapper furiously and shouted to the emerging people to follow Carra to the maidun. The town on the move, she then ran for the river. Her dive took her half way over and she swam like she had never swum before across a tidal river which only the bravest man dare risk attempting. 
     Dragging herself from the water on the far side, she ran up the slight rise to Eccles Cliff, shouting as she went. At Carra's house, she burst in and confronted the chieftain and his wife. 'The Cliff, quickly.' 
     'What is it, child?' asked the old chieftain. 
     'It is Greta,' she replied, fighting for breath. 
     'Greta?' He got to his feet, alarmed. 'She comes?' 
     'Can't you hear her?' 
     He went to the doorway and listened but could hear nothing but the stark silence. 
     His wife clutched at his arm. 'Could it be bad?' 
     He stared to the west. 'Only the Cliff and the maidun stood out of the water the year before you came to the village, my dear. The rest was simply swept away by the water. Greta is not forgiving. It was the year when no sacrifice was made to Bel, just like this year. She has been sumissive since then.' He faced Ædra accusingly. 'Until now.' 
     'You must go the the Cliff, both of you,' Ædra pleaded. 'I will do what I can to stop it.' 
     'Stop it, child? How can you stop Greta?' 
     'I will stand in her way,' she said firmly. 
     'Are you mad?' 
     'No, just guilty. If Greta destroys your crops and village now it will all have been my fault, I will deserve to die. Bel will see me die and be forgiving to you. Please go now. You will not be safe here.' 
     'Go yourself, child. I have not long to live and am too old to run. I will stay here with my dearest Floren and pray to Bel for you.' 
     Ædra said no more but ran down towards the river. She could hear it now and dearly wished that Ædred was with her. She would fail, she knew it in her heart, but she also knew that she had to try, for the people's sake. 
     Standing at the edge of the river bank on the outside of the tight bend, she saw the ten-foot high wave as it raced towards her, filling the valley near Worsall with an ugly, brownish-yellow liquid which crushed everything in its path. She closed her eyes and concentrated with all her might as the roar became deafening. When she thought she could stand the sound no more, the mighty force slammed into her, lifting her from her feet and smashing the breath from her body.


     The valley was a total wasteland. Every house in the town was gone, all the boats torn from their moorings and hurled against the Cliff. Everything was under water, just the two hills standing proud from the yellow sea. 
     Helga took Anna from Carra as she sat on the maidun and looked across the valley to where her parents and home had been. Fortunately, most had heeded Ædra and Carra's warnings and had fled to the high ground. Of those who had not fled there was no sign. For three days, the people sat huddled together on the maidun with nothing to eat nor drink until, on the fourth day, the tops of trees poked through the surface of the sea as the waters started to recede. On the fifth day, the sun came out and speeded the process and some scavaged for food and belongings amongst the utter devastation. 
     Work continued over the next week to start life all over again as people from both communities worked in harmony to salvage what they could. There was, of course, nothing left of the crop which had been almost ready for harvesting and there was not a boat left on the river. Every means of livelihood had been completely obliterated. The only bad feeling was by the Britons against the Anglisc for having allowed Ædra into the town. Bel's vengeance was swift and sure. One day in August, Helga and Anna simply disappeared and were never seen again. A week later, Klaus's wife was found, beaten to death, beside the ford.


     By the end of the month, it was safe for Carra to recross the river to Eccles Cliff to mourn for her parents. She had nothing left. Her father had gone, her mother, her home, her best friend. Even the little baby who had been so carefully placed in her trust had gone and she felt totally devastated as she sat, as if in a dream, on the barren plot where her home had been. That day, Gann, Klaus and Ædred returned, having been delayed by the very floods which had devastated their valley. Ædred immediately saw Carra and went to her and held her close while she cried. 
     'Where is Ædra?' he finally asked. 
     'Gone,' she simply replied. 
     'Gone where, Carra?' he asked, not believing the inevitable. 
     'Dead,' she flatly said. 'She tried to stop the water. She just stood right in its path as if daring it to come further and it smashed her into pieces like a hammer would crush a piece of chalk.' She burst into tears again. 'It was horrible.' 
     He gently soothed her with his arms. 'I killed her,' he confessed. 
     'What?' she lifted her head as if she had not understood him correctly. 
     'I should have been here. She would have stopped it then. She was foolish to try it without me.' 
     She shook her head. 'What could she have done, even with you here?' 
     He shrugged. 'She could have turned back the water.' 
     'Do not jest, Ædred,' she pleaded. 'Not at a time like this.' 
     'I do not jest. She had power. Now she is gone.' He did not weep but stood, listening. After a minute he went and stood on the edge of the cliff. 'No. She is not gone.' 
     Carra looked up, startled. 'N.. not gone. Ædred, don't deceive yourself. She was crushed to a pulp by that wave.' 
     'No,' he assured her. 'She is not dead. I can hear her.' 
     She backed away from him, suddenly very frightened. 'Hear her?' 
     'Yes, very faint. She needs me.' He looked around, frantically. 'Come, Carra, she needs us both. She is dying.' 
     'Ædred,' she caught his arm. 'Ædra is dead. Can't you believe that? No-one could possibly have survived such a blow.' 
     Ædred pulled free and ran to Gann. 'Is there a boat left anywhere?' 
     'I doubt it. If there is, it will be up there.' He pointed to the ridge behind the Cliff. 
     Ædred grabbed Carra's hand and they ran to her uncle's home which was just above where the water had reached. He had a boat. It had been out of the water for repair at the time of the flood and could float if treated gently and baled regularly. They thanked him and, between them, they struggled down to the water with it. 
     'Ædred,' she said, utterly confused. 'Are you making a fool of me? Because if you are, the joke is in very poor taste.' 
     'Of course not. I tell you Ædra is alive and in great pain. I must find her and help her.' 
     'All right,' she said, facing him across the boat. 'I will trust you for now. But if I find out you've been tricking me, I will never speak to you again.' 
     He took her by the arms as she stepped into the boat. 'Carra, you are Ædra's best friend. If you find it hard to do it for me, do it for her. I swear to you, she is alive.' 
     'Then we have no time to lose,' she said, climbing to the stern of the fishing boat. 'You row, I'll steer. I know this river well and it is very treacherous in places below Iarum. Let's go.' 
     Ædred did little rowing that day. The current bore them steadily downstream as they passed Round Hill and, later, Basseltun Wood. Signs of the devastation were everywhere on both banks and they looked on in awe. They saw that the tiny hamlet at Mandell was devastated as they drifted gently round the long bend in the river and, by evening, they had passed the loading wharf at Portrack and the river was now very wide and slow-moving and Carra was getting worried about the fading light. 'Ædred, we must turn back. We cannot go on.' 
     'We cannot go back,' he implored. 'Even if we did, we would be rowing all night against the current. We must go forward.' He looked around at the flat expanse of water that had marshes each side. 'We are getting closer, I feel it.' 
     Carra became suspicious again. 'You said earlier that you could hear her.' 
     'I cannot hear her any more, she is too weak. I can only feel her now. We are getting closer with every mile.' 
     'But Ædred,' she pleaded. 'If we go any further in the darkness, we shall be lost.' 
     'Then I'll drop you off. I must go on.' 
     'I will not leave you, Ædred.' She reached out and touched his hand as if to give re-assurance. 'But are you sure you are right?' 
     He looked at her in the semi-darkness. 'I know I am right. She is here, somewhere, close to death. I feel it.' 
     Carra sat up and pointed. 'Ædred, you see that white line ahead?' 
     He turned his head. 'Yes.' 
     'It is the surf. Please don't go out onto the sea. Ædra would not want you to die now.' 
     'You are right. We must beach the boat and go on foot.' 
     'But where?' She was almost in tears. 
     'She will lead me to her, never fear.' He stood up in the boat and looked at the sky. 'Ædra, can you hear me? I'm coming, hold on.' He nearly fell out of the boat as he laughed. 'She heard me. I hear her now, I hear her. It's that way.' He pointed southwards and they beached the boat on a sandbank. 'Come, Carra. Ædra is calling to me with her last breath.' 
     The young couple ran, hand in hand, across the soft sand and around the low headland marking the end of the river and the beginning of the sea. The surf crashed upon the shore and licked at their feet as they ran and ran along the coast, the waves looking almost flourescent in the darkness. After a mile, Carra collapsed on the beach and Ædred picked her up and ran with her while she hung, limp, in his arms. 
     Soon, they came to a small collection of wooden houses, set back from the sea, and Ædred stopped for bearings. Without hesitation, he went to the biggest of them and hammered on the door which was opened by an old woman in a dark woollen dress who peered at Ædred and Carra from within. 
     'We have come for Ædra,' said her brother to the old woman, allowing Carra to stand unsteadily on her feet. 
     'Ædra?' said the woman with a puzzled frown. 'The child from the sea?' 
     'Yes,' he assured her. 'I am her brother and this is her friend, Carra.' 
     The woman was amazed. 'I don't know how you found us, but come in.' She opened the door wider and the couple entered the small, poorly-lit living room and they were introduced to an old man with a long, white beard, sitting in a chair beside the fire. 'This is my husband, Harald. He found her lying, broken, on the rocks and brought her here. She has been very badly hurt and I am afraid that you may already be too late.' 
     'Can we see her?' Ædred asked. 
     'Of course, she is through here. I warn you, she is not a pretty sight.' 
     They were led through a curtain into a smaller, darker room and to the bed. At first, it didn't look as if there was anyone in the bed and then Carra gasped at what she saw and fought back the bile in her throat. Ædred dropped to his knees beside the bed and gently picked up his sister's limp hand. 
     'Be careful, young man,' scolded the woman. 'There cannot be a single bone in her poor little body that is not broken. Please let her die without more pain.' 
     Ædred smiled and nodded and looked into his sister's dulled eyes as the woman left them alone. 'My dearest Ædra. I have found you at last.' 
     She opened her eyes a little and, recognising him, tried to nod but the pain in her head was too great. She tried to speak but little bubbles of blood came from her lips as she opened her mouth. 
     Ædred made a decision. 'Ædra. You are a mess, do you know that?' Carra was horrified at the way he had spoken to her, but he continued. 'Now then, little sister, are you going to get up or do I drag you out of bed and smack your bottom again?' 
     'Don't,' she said feebly while Carra stood with mouth and eyes wide open, totally speechless. 'Don't hurt me. I'll get up.' 
     'Ædred, stop,' pleaded Carra, pulling him away from the bed. 'You heard what the woman said. All her bones are broken.' 
     'All right,' he said. He turned to his sister. 'You can lay there tonight, but I want you up and about in the morning.' 
     'I can't. I need all my strength for those poor people in the valley.' 
     'What does she mean?' asked Carra, puzzled. 'Who is she talking about?' 
     'The folk at Iarum and Eccles Cliff.' 
     Her eyes were dark. 'What can she do for them?' 
     He smiled. 'Anything, now that I am here.' 
     'What do you mean, anything? How can Ædra help them now?' 
     'Wait and see when we get back tomorrow.' 
     'Tomorrow?' She was horrified. 'You can't move Ædra tomorrow. Probably not for weeks, maybe months, if ever.' 
     'Wait and see.' He turned again to his sister. 'Do you want to go home?' 
     She nodded a little and winced in agony. 
     'Tomorrow?' 
     'Yes please,' she managed to get out. 
     'Carra,' said Ædred, clutching her hand. 'Would you go and ask the kindly lady for something to eat and drink for Ædra.' 
     Carra was mystified but left. 
     'Now then, young lady,' he said firmly when Carra had gone out of the room. 'How about some healing. You do it for others, now you must do it for yourself.' 
     'I can't.' 
     'Yes you can.' 
     'It wouldn't be right.' 
     'Very well,' he consented. 'I can understand that. Then I must do it for you.' He stifled protest with a finger on her lips. 'It's only fair. I helped you with the fish, now you can help me.' 
     She nodded and Ædred sat on the bed, carefully pulled the bed covers down to her waist and stared into her deep, blue eyes with his own. He took hold of her hand and ran his fingers gently up her brown arms, across her shoulders, down her pale chest and over her flat belly and hips. 
     'You're tickling,' she giggled and Ædred laughed. 
     Carra heard the sounds and burst back through the curtain, mouth open, just in time to see Ædra sit up, put her arms lovingly around her brother's neck and kiss the end of his nose. 
     Not seeing Carra, Ædra said; 'Now my legs.' 
     Ædred drew back the sheets totally and Carra watched, in awe, as Ædred gently massaged his sister's legs and feet. All done, he got off the bed and held out his hand. Ædra smiled at him, slipped her legs to the floor and stood up. Carra dropped the tray of rye bread. 
     Ædra suddenly saw her friend and stepped forward and held her close. 'I'm sorry about your parents.' 
     Puzzled, Carra looked at Ædred over Ædra's bare shoulder. 'When did you tell her about my father and mother?' 
     Ædred smiled and kissed the confused Carra on the forehead. 'I didn't.' 

SEVEN

     Carra watched as Ædra sat at the little wooden table and devoured a huge meal of baked fish, the first food she had eaten since the flood. The old couple were delighted with her recovery and fussed about after her though scarcely able to believe the evidence of their own eyes.
     ‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she said to them between mouthfuls. ‘You were not the first to see me lying on the rocks.’
     The old woman was horrified. ‘Not the first? You mean others...?’
     ‘I’m afraid so,’ Ædra confirmed. ‘Do you know, when that wall of water hit me at Iarum, I did not feel pain but an overwhelming guilt and anguish for what was to result for the people.’
     ‘But how did you survive?’
     ‘I was very lucky. I vaguely remember being picked up, bodily, by a sort of front wave pushed along by the main body of water. I was sure I had died until I awoke on those flat rocks out there in the sea, with the waves washing gently over my back and legs. I saw quite a few people - some even came and looked at me lying there, unable to move or call out - but none would come close or help me. I was out there two days and nights before dear Harald found me and took care of me.’
     ‘Two days?’ gaped the old fisherman. ‘By Manopus, they should be made to pay for their inhumanity.’
     Ædra placed her small hand over his. ‘I bear no grudge, Harald my friend, but I do wish to repay you. How can I do that?’
     He was insulted. ‘I seek no payment, child. I have already received my reward, seeing you alive and well again. What I need, you cannot give.’
     ‘Do you know who the maiden is?’ Carra asked him quietly.
     ‘A child from the valley? An Anglisc?’
     ‘Sir. The girl you have saved is the daughter of King Arthur. She is Princess Ædra of Camelot.’
     The couple were absolutely dumbfounded as they looked at the young girl before them with long, golden hair and deep, blue eyes.
     ‘Highness,’ said the old fisherman with deep emotion. ‘I am honoured to have been of assistance to so noble a person.’
     ‘My husband remembers the old days,’ said Emma, his wife; ‘When he fought with your father against the Picts at Mount Baden. Now, he only wishes to spend his last years living here with me at Reedcarr. If his boat were not beyond repair, he would fish with the other men and be proud and happy again before he dies.’
     ‘Where is this boat?’ asked Ædra, casually standing up and peering out of the doorway.
     ‘It is the wreck at the side of our humble house, my Lady.’
     Ædra peered outside for a moment. ‘I see no wreck.’
     The old fisherman rose to his feet, shuffled up behind her, and stared. His wife came and clutched his arm.
     ‘It’s a miracle,’ she said as they observed at the gently-flapping sail and newly-tarred hull. Ædra smiled and ignored her brother’s smirk and Carra’s puzzled expression.
     ‘I ask but one favour,’ said Ædra with inspiration.
     ‘Anything, my Lady.’
     ‘In the morning, you must take us out in your new boat and round to the river mouth where my brother has left the borrowed one.’
     ‘Gladly, Princess. It would bring me considerable pride and honour.’
     
     By noon the next day, the trio were waving farewell to the old fisherman who sat in his boat weeping tears of joy. Ædred and his sister sat, side-by-side, pulling on the oars against the swift current, while Carra was at the helm, firmly believing it was all just a dream from which she was going to waken at any moment. By evening, the village was in sight and she stood up in the boat and stared in at the village folk who were working in the half-light to bring in a harvest of corn which covered the meadows on both sides of the river. The people saw them and waved as their boat drew to the bank and some of the youths from the town ran down to meet them.
     ‘You’ll never guess what happened,’ said one.
     ‘The corn just sprouted through the mud,’ added another.
     ‘Father says he has never seen such a thing before,’ spoke up a third. ‘And the salmon are abundant since the flood changed the line of the river near Denusdael.’
     Ædra smiled to herself and the people suddenly saw her and became embarrassed. She was puzzled until she saw the giant Gann shuffling towards her, stoop shouldered, looking like an old man. Leaping from the boat, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, her feet off the ground.
     ‘Steady, chick, you’ll have me over,’ he said to her without the usual friendly smile.
     She dropped to the ground, puzzled. ‘Uncle Gann, what’s wrong?’ she asked, reaching up and touching his face.
     ‘My child, I am delighted to see you safe.’
     ‘Then why the sadness?’
     ‘I regret I am heartbroken.’
     Ædra was suddenly serious as she clutched his hands. ‘What has happened here?’
     Gann slowly sat down on the side of the boat and the young girl carefully sat on her uncle’s knee with her arms around his neck.
     ‘The others are...all gone,’ he said sadly.
     ‘Gone?’ she said, drawing back a little. ‘In the flood?’
     He shook his head. ‘No. Disappeared. Killed.’
     ‘But...Helga?...Anna?’
     He said nothing.
     Ædra slowly got to her feet, shaking her head from side to side. ‘No...not Anna. Not my little Anna.’
     Gann looked down at the ground without further comment and Ædra wheeled round and screamed for all to hear. ‘No..o..o!’
     People stopped thatching, stopped fishing, stopped reaping and stood in silence.
     ‘Who did it? Who took my Anna?’ She looked from one face to another as they all stood, looking guilty.
     ‘Where is my Anna?’ she shouted at no-one in particular, tears now cascading down her face. ‘Tell me!’
     No-one answered so her face slowly transformed itself into an ugly mask of pure, unadulterated hatred.
     ‘You miserable bunch of heathens,’ she screeched. ‘I should have let you all drown.’
     She walked towards the largest group of them and they withered from her cold stare.
     ‘I warn you now,’ she seethed between her clenched teeth. ‘If I do not have an answer by the morning, the crops you are all so proud of will rot in your barns. This river will stink with rotten fish. Do you hear me?’
     
     All night long, Ædra tossed and turned as Carra and Ædred fought to keep down the fever which had gripped her body. They laid her out on the small bunk in the main room and bathed her body with cool water to keep down her temperature, but a war was going on within her and neither Ædred nor Carra could predict the outcome. It was almost dawn before she was seen to relax and the others slept, clutched in each other’s arms, completely exhausted from their ministrations.
     Their patient was up soon after the sun rose, standing in the doorway of the wooden hut that had been erected for them near the ford. The sun was already shining as she leant against the doorpost and smiled up at the shadows which gently swayed across the threshold.
     It was her eventual laughing which woke the others and they came running, sleep still in their eyes and stood, one each side of her, and held her hands as she squinted up at the bodies of four men who were hanging from the porch roof by the bloodstained strips of cloth that had once been Anna’s pink summer dress.

     
     Summer gradually turned to Autumn and then autumn to winter. Both town and village were rebuilt before the first snow covered the land in a crisp, white blanket. Ædra was very happy as she shared those months beside the river with her friends. They became totally inseparable and all traces of the previous jealousy dissipated as the trio cared for each other with a deep love that seemed unique. In the town, the atmosphere which had prevailed for a while had all but gone with the deaths of the murderers and even the big, blond Gann was accepted again into the community as the people tried to do what they could to reverse the great wrong which had been committed.
     Winter was turning into spring once more when the next change came. Carra had been looking pale of late and Ædra was concerned for her friend’s health, fearing some kind of illness which would need her attention. Each morning, Carra would be sick and Ædred would be seen looking very guilty. It was March before the penny dropped and Ædra said to them both over lunch one day, ‘It will be a boy.’
     ‘What?’ asked Carra, puzzled.
     ‘Your baby. It will be a boy.’
     ‘My baby?’ She looked at Ædred, who suddenly seemed fascinated with something in his meal.
     Ædra slipped her hand over his. ‘Did you think I would be angry, dear brother?’
     ‘Yes,’ he mumbled. ‘After all I do love you, and you me.’
     ‘But, Ædred, we both love Carra, don’t we?’ He nodded and she put her arms around the beaming Carra. ‘I shall be happy for you both.’
     Carra looked so happy as she finished eating, her long dark hair hanging over her tanned shoulders, her brown eyes big and bright.
     Ædra left them together then skipped happily down the main street as people watched and wondered about this strange girl who had come to dominate all the talk and affairs in their town. She spoke pleasantly to everyone she met and then bought fruit and flowers at the market.
     It was as she was on her way out of the market place that she saw a stranger at the dyke. He was dusty and dirty from the road, wearing a long, rough gown with a dark hood atop his wrinkled, bearded face and had a wooden staff in his hand. After some discussion, he was allowed into the town. Fascinated by his appearance, Ædra stood still as he walked towards her, a big leather bag over his left shoulder.
     ‘I need food and shelter,’ he spoke to the crowd in general. ‘And a chance to speak the word of God.’
     One or two of the people looked at each other and then whispered about this strange man in such odd garb. Seeing no response from the others, Ædra stepped before him and smiled pleasantly. ‘I will be happy to provide you with these things.’
     The stranger looked oddly at the golden-haired girl who stood, almost mockingly, before him in a short, leather skirt and pale chemise, her suntanned arms full of produce from the market.
     He seemed to ignore her and continued to look around so, shrugging a little, Ædra turned on her heel and walked away with a spring in her step. With considerable effort, he dragged his eyes away from the heavenly vision he had just seen and asked of some men; ‘Where is this place?’
     ‘Iarum,’ answered one.
     ‘Is the town Christian?’
     ‘Is it what?’ the villager asked, clearly puzzled.
     ‘Christian. Have you not heard of the Lord Jesus?’
     The men consulted. ‘Does he live round here or is he from Northumbria?’
     The stranger was flabbergasted. ‘My good man, he is our saviour.’
     ‘Ah. Then he will know Princess Ædra. She is the only saviour we know.’
     ‘Princess Ædra?’ he asked, baffled by this unexpected development.
     The man indicated with his head. ‘The young maiden who spoke with you.’
     He pointed in the direction Ædra had gone. ‘That scruffy young girl? A Princess?’
     ‘Works magic and miracles,’ added another, with deep reverence.
     ‘Then I had better see her and put a stop to this,’ he said firmly.
     The men looked at each other in silence and then burst out laughing. ‘I somehow don’t think you will have much effect on her, old man. If she can survive the wild attack of the mighty Greta, she can devour you in one bite.’ One patted the stranger on the shoulder. ‘I wish you luck, by Woden.’ They left him, laughing as they went.
     ‘Where..?’ He swallowed the lump in his throat as he spoke to one of the market folk, trying desperately to sound casual. ‘Where can I find this Princess Ædra?’
     He was given directions and made his way up the main street to the ford. Something stronger than curiosity drew him as he went around to the river side of the cabin and stood in the open doorway. Two girls sat with a boy at a table laid for four and the girl with the golden hair beckoned him inside. ‘I knew you would come.’
     ‘How?’ he asked, puzzled.
     ‘I saw you coming,’ she said, putting food in his dish. She introduced the others. ‘This is my brother, Ædred, and my very good friend, Carra.’
     The young man nodded and smiled as the dark-haired girl pulled out a stool for him. He stood without speaking and Ædra indicated the empty seat.
     ‘Sit, eat with us. You must be tired and hungry after your long walk from Saltburn.’
     He slowly sat down on the stool and gazed into her face, fearing witchcraft. ‘How did you know I was landed at Saltburn?’
     ‘Your feet,’ she indicated. He looked down at his leather sandals, thoroughly confused. ‘You had to have come over the great moor close to Roeburgh or Gyseburn to have collected so much red dust.’
     He suddenly burst out laughing and laid down his staff. ‘And they told me you were a witch. You’re not a witch, you’re just a very clever, observant young lady. I could do with disciples like you.’
     Ædra looked briefly at her brother then back to the stranger. ‘Disciples?’ she asked, never having heard the word before.
     ‘Followers of the Lord Jesus Christ who sits at the right hand of God awaiting Kingdom power.’
     She sat bolt upright and stared at him. ‘Who is this God?’
     ‘In the Old Testament the Jews called him Jehovah. Now his son, Jesus Christ, is being used by him to spread the word of eternal life and salvation.’
     Ædra pushed the plate away from herself and looked at him with her deep, blue eyes. ‘Can this Jesus do miracles?’
     ‘Certainly. He came to earth as a man and turned water into wine, cured the sick and raised the dead.’
     ‘Where is he now?’
     He pointed. ‘In heaven.’
     Carra peered upwards. ‘In the roof?’
     ‘No, my child. In the sky.’
     ‘These miracles,’ insisted Ædra with interest. ‘Does he do them now?’
     ‘Occasionally. Usually through saints, disciples chosen by him to spread the word and warn of the coming Day of Judgement.’
     ‘Is that all in the Holy Book you carry?’ she asked innocently.
     The stranger’s eyes grew dark as he leant forward, suddenly suspicious again. ‘How do you know I carry a Holy Book?’
     ‘Your bag,’ she laughed. ‘It is carefully closed to keep out the dust as if it contains something really important. I can see by the shape that it is squarish and thick. It can only be a volume of very great value.’
     He joined in the laughter. ‘You and I should work together, we would make a good team.’
     ‘I would love to,’ she said with a smile that tipped his heart into turmoil once again.
     All through that afternoon and into the evening, the stranger spoke of things Ædra had only dreamed about all her life. Things she had read as a child at Camelot now began to fall into place as she absorbed his words like a dry cloth would soak up spilt wine. Eventually, the stranger produced the Book and began to read from it while Ædra looked at the fine writing on the page with its beautifully illuminated capitals as she followed his words with her eyes. He stopped only when his eyes grew tired.
     ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Blessed be the meek for they shall inherit the earth...’
     He stared at her for a long time before he spoke. ‘You’ve seen the Book before.’
     ‘Never,’ she replied, her chin resting on her hands, looking at him across the table like a six-year-old child.
     ‘Then how can you know the words?’
     She smiled. ‘I can read them upside-down.’
     His face went dark at suspected trickery. ‘But you are Anglisc.’ His voice was unnecessarily hard. ‘These words of the Book are in a language called Latin.’
     ‘I know that,’ she retorted sweetly. ‘I can read Latin.’
     He was speechless for a moment. ‘You...you can read Latin?’
     ‘Of course,’ she affirmed. ‘I used to read my grandfather’s books at Camelot. He was an officer in the Roman army, you know.’ She held up her head and stuck out her chest with feigned pride. ‘General Ambrosius Aurellianum of the Ninth Hispania.’ She relaxed again and so did his heartbeat. ‘My father’s knights were mostly sons of mercenaries from the army. Sir Dinaden was from Cantiburgh, Sir Lancelot from Gaul, Sir Brian from the Waelas.’
     ‘But that doesn’t explain the Latin.’
     ‘All the old army despatches in the Great Hall at Camelot were originally written in Latin for the Roman officers and then transliterated into Gaelic for the British mercenaries to understand, so I learned both languages as a child.’
     ‘Good God!’ he said.
     ‘I hope so,’ she added. ‘Now you go and let sweet Carra tuck you in bed while I read some more.’ He hesitated. ‘I will not harm your book,’ she quietly reassured him. ‘If it really is the word of God then it is very precious.’
     The stranger finally got up and Carra reached out and took his hand in hers. She led him to the other room and he finally went to sleep with the dark-eyed girl snuggled tightly up to him and dreamed of life in paradise with a golden headed angel as Ædra read from the Book to her brother all through the night.

     
     At dawn the stranger woke and wondered where he was. He turned over and saw Carra beside him on the bed and smiled to himself as he thought of the unusual innocence of this strange trio. Carefully, he lifted the sleeping Carra’s bare arm from his chest and went into the other room. Ædra looked up as he entered. ‘Tell me, sir. Why did Jesus tell us about the Good Samaritan?’
     He was amazed that she was still at it though her brother was fast asleep in the chair. ‘Because, my child, the religious leaders were selfish and proud and missed the real purpose in life, that we should help one another regardless of race or tribe.’
     ‘I have seen this Good Samaritan.’
     He smiled. ‘My child, he is not real. It was just a story, a parable.’
     ‘He is real,’ Ædra insisted. ‘He lives at Reedcarr and he once saved my life when all the others pretended not to see me. He took me in and cared for me in his home when he had little enough for himself, until my brother came for me.’
     He put his hand over hers for a moment and felt the thrill of her touch go through his whole body. He forced himself to answer her with an even voice. ‘There are people like him, people who are kind and generous. If the whole world were like him, there would have been no need for Jesus to come and die for us.’
     ‘Sir,’ she said without moving her hand. ‘You spoke with sadness just then. Are there still these religious leaders who are selfish and proud?’
     ‘Alas, Princess, there are. I regret to say that many of them now call themselves Christians, though they are indistinguishable in their actions from the Pharisees of five hundred years ago. That is why I am here.’
     ‘Tell me,’ she said quietly, stirring his soul with those piercing blue eyes.
     ‘The Church has changed,’ he began with great difficulty, as he could not drag his eyes away from hers. ‘At first, it faithfully spoke the word of God and Christ but, recently, it has become full of men who are hungry for power and prestige–men who are prepared to corrupt the true word for their own ends.’
     She was dismayed. ‘These men are in Christ?’
     ‘They certainly believe so. I, along with many others who know the real truth of the word, dared to protest to the Synod. Because of this, some of my best friends were killed, others excommunicated, and many others exiled to places like Britannia where, it is believed, the cause is a lost one.’
     ‘Are there many such here in Britannia?’
     ‘Just a handful. Mind you, some of the country already believes itself to be Christian, particularly in the South-East, and especially in places like Londinium and Cant. In addition, the Church itself has sent men from Rome to establish Bishops in places like Ebor and Cantibrough. Their instructions are to use whatever means are at their disposal to establish centres of worship and gather money from the people to support the Church.’
     Ædra was horrified and clutched his hand until it almost began to hurt and, for the first time, he began to realise that this girl not only had great beauty and intelligence but tremendous, unstoppable inner strength. ‘These men would take money for their services? They would even lie to gain converts?’
     ‘I fear so, Princess.’
     She stood up, determined as to what should be done. ‘Then the truth must become known. We must tell everyone. It must not be allowed to happen here.’
     ‘My dear. It is not that simple. It is easy to gain disciples if you are prepared to twist the truth sufficiently enough to require no real change of the supposed converts. To insist that the entire truth be told and then, perhaps more importantly, applied, is a very different matter indeed.’
     ‘Then we have no time to lose,’ she said, closing the Book firmly. ‘You have your first disciple, my friend.’
     The stranger dragged his eyes from her and looked across at the now-awake Ædred who shrugged.
     ‘I learnt a long time ago never to argue with my adorable sister. I have seen her when she is angry and it is definitely not a pretty sight.’ 

EIGHT

     Brother John, as they found him to be called, stayed with them into the Autumn which began to cast its long shadows and golden mattress over the landscape. During those summer months, much work had been done. Ædra continued to read and absorb the teachings from the Book and, early in May, she was baptized in the River Teas with the whole town watching. Immediately, she set about teaching everyone else all the things that she had learned. 
     Brother John had been right, it was not easy. The people were thoroughly confused by all the teachings they had been brought up with. The Britons had only ever worshipped the sun and their form of worship was, at least, fairly straightforward. Then, the Romans had come and brought their own gods. Constantine, who had at one time had even claimed to be Christian so as to gain Roman converts, had declared the first day of the week as Dies Solis - the day of the sun - Sunday. The following day was declared to be the day on which the Moon God was to be worshipped. then followed the other Roman gods–Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus and Saturn. In time, the Anglisc had arrived from the continent and, although accepting Sunday, Moonday and Saturnday for what they were, declared the other days as dedicated to Tew, Woden, Thunor, and the goddess Frigg. No wonder the people were confused. 
     Now, on top of all that, here was a new slant. They should now worship a God whom they could not see at all, and do so for seven days out of the week. They took a lot of convincing before they were ready for change, but Ædra’s determination and contagious enthusiasm paid dividends. 
     Ædred and the now very pregnant Carra were baptised at the end of that month and, in June, the first Chrisian wedding was performed in the district to sanctify their union, the festivities for the young couple going on for a week. 
     It was then time to set about the serious business of establishing a permanent church in Iarum. For some time, their own home had served as meeting place for, firstly, the one dozen converts, then the two. But by August it had become necessary to find somewhere else because the congregation of fifty-three would not fit into their humble cabin by the river. 
     People from all over the area helped to build that simple, wooden hut which was to be their place of worship and gifts of wood, thatch and decorations were abundant. 
     Ædra was the happiest person in the world. She had found what she had been looking for, a real God who was interested in His people and cared for them. Tirelessly, she slaved for the people and helped them to understand about a God of love who would, in time, bring the Kingdom about which they had been taught to pray and ensure total peace earth-wide. The Britons from around Eccles Cliff were more difficult to change, but change they did and, by September, almost all of the town attended Brother John’s weekly Bible-reading sessions. 
     The relationship between Ædra and Brother John remained unchanged. They would be seen together everywhere; at the church, at home, in the street and beside the market as they talked to strangers coming from far and wide to trade at Iarum. Occasionally, people would nudge each other and smile as the pair were seen walking beside the river, though several commented that the scene more accurately depicted that of a father and daughter together, rather than one of two people in love. 
     It was later in the month when Brother John manoeuvred events and finally managed to get alone with Ædra after her brother and Carra had retired to bed in the next room. 
     ‘Ædra,’ he began. ‘I have to discuss your power.’ 
     ‘My power?’ She was confused as to why he should mention this subject now. It had been some time since she had even thought about it herself. 
     ‘Is it from God?’ he asked casually. 
     ‘I don’t know. Where else could it be from?’ 
     ‘From the Devil?’ 
     She was concerned now. ‘How would I know the difference?’ 
     ‘Does it do good?’ 
     ‘Not always. Sometimes, I am ashamed to admit, men have been made to suffer because of it.’ 
     ‘Killed?’ he dared ask. 
     ‘Possibly, though I only know of one for certain and he deserved it.’ 
     ‘My child,’ he said kindly. ‘It is God who judges men, not us.’ 
     Her head fell onto her chest. ‘I’m sorry.’ 
     His hand gently lifted her chin until she looked a him. ‘Have you done good?’ 
     She nodded. ‘I believe so. I tried to help a young woman at Crayethorne once,’ her shoulders fell. ‘But I must have failed because there was no reply as she had promised. It is well over a year ago.’ 
     ‘Not necessarily,’ he consoled. ‘Remember the ten lepers Jesus healed? Only one had the common decency to thank him for it, while the other nine simply took it for granted. Too many people take God for granted, I’m afraid. Some even have the nerve to blame God for problems they experience which are often of their own making.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I’m afraid that we humans are a very selfish breed at times.’ 
     Ædra made up her mind. ‘I’d like to go to Craythorne soon and find out. Would you come with me?’ 
     His head fell. ‘No, I regret to say that I must leave Iarum.’ 
     ‘Leave?’ she said, not believing her ears. ‘You can’t, we need you here.’ 
     ‘Alas, no, my sister. The good people of Iarum have you now. They don’t need me any more.’ 
     ‘I need you,’ she said, looking at him in the dim candle-light. 
     ‘Ædra,’ he admitted. ‘I need you too. That is why I must leave now, before it is too late.’ 
     Her eyes were wide open. ‘What do you mean?’ 
     ‘You remember the first day we met?’ 
     ‘Of course,’ she smiled. ‘How could I ever forget it? I offered you food and a place to rest and you completely ignored me.’ 
     ‘I had to,’ he said, looking into her eyes and wondering if he should not simply give in to temptation and make love to her right there in front of the fire. He felt certain that she would not reject his advances. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and almost overwhelming desires. 
     Ædra watched him carefully as he continued, the flickering of the small fire patterning her skin as she sat before him in her night shift. 
     ‘I was tempted by a desire I never believed myself capable of. My thoughts were a grave sin, that day.’ 
     ‘You felt desire for me?’ she said and he was almost offended as she laughed at his revealed longing. 
     He decided that he must continue now he had started. ‘Ædra, you do have a power. A power you probably don’t know you have, one which can make a man do anything you bid, a mighty power which is driving me crazy every day I am here with you. That is why I must go.’ 
     ‘Brother John,’ she said with laughter still in her eyes. ‘I cannot believe this.’ She stood up and pulled her thin bodice tightly about her body. ‘Look at me.’ 
     He forced his eyes away. 
     ‘No. Look at me,’ she insisted. ‘I’m skinny as a willow, practically flat chested and,’ she added, lifting the hem of her already short shift; ‘Just look at my legs. You never saw anything so long and gangly in all your life.’ 
     ‘Ædra, believe me. You have a kind of beauty which captivates everyone.’ 
     ‘Me? But no-one so plain was ever born.’ 
     ‘Ædra,’ he said sitting on the bunk, holding her hands while her eyes reflected the light from the candle. ‘Are we friends?’ 
     ‘Of course we are,’ she replied, putting her head on one side. 
     ‘Ædra. I am a man of God. I should not feel the way I do about you.’ 
     ‘How do you feel?’ she asked cheekily, sitting on his knee, her arms around his neck. 
     He looked down. ‘My child, you are not making this easy for me.’ 
     As he looked, her long, bare legs drew him like magnets and his heartbeat doubled as he fought, desperately, to drag his eyes away. Looking up, her eyes caught his and they locked together as she slowly turned up the power to maximum. 
     He struggled both with her power and his own conscience as her face moved towards his, her lips parted and shining in the dim light. As they touched, he felt as if he had been stabbed by a red hot poker. 
     ‘No,’ he said, standing up and dropping her in a heap on the floor. She lay with eyes and heart wide open, offering instant paradise, but he fought his way to the door and gasped for breath. 
     ‘Get behind me, Satan,’ he spluttered. 
     ‘Why?’ said the little voice from inside. 
     ‘It would be very wrong. We are not wed.’ 
     ‘Then wed me. I love you.’ 
     He turned and faced her as she got to her feet and stood before him, tears in her eyes. ‘Ædra. I love you too, more than you will ever know, but I am old enough to be your father. I cannot do this very great wrong. I must leave.’ He turned. ‘I must leave now.’ 
     ‘I will come with you.’ 
     ‘No. Please, Ædra. I must go alone for a while.’ 
     ‘I will wait for you. You will return and love me?’ 
     ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ 
     ‘Please don’t go,’ she pleaded. ‘It will break my heart. Please don’t hurt me like this.’ 
     ‘I must,’ he said and, picking up his Book and bag, disappeared quickly into the night.

     Aedra was utterly devastated. She did not weep, she did not mourn but all the sparkle and vigour which had characterized her since she had met that stranger in the marketplace, had drained from her. Though still only fifteen years of age, she now felt old and worn out as her heart bore heavy in her body. 
     It had not merely been sensual excitement she had wanted that night, she had wanted to be a part of this handsome but mature man who had arrived out of the blue and had instantly captivated her heart as she had his. He had represented not so much a lover, but friend as well as the father she had never known. Now, he was gone, and there was a great big hole in her body where her heart should have been. 
     Her appearance changed drastically over the next few weeks, partly due to the fact that she had hacked off all her beautiful golden hair and now dressed herself in dull, drab clothes which made her look an old woman. Ædred and Carra struggled with her as she wandered about in her work, looking frail and listless, as the nights grew dark and cold. 
     Carra now slept with Ædra each night. Firstly, her approaching confinement ruled out any further excitement with Ædred for a while and, secondly, it was only Carra’s body heat at night that was keeping her friend alive through that bitterly cold winter. 
     For three months, the snow stayed thick on the ground and no boat was needed to cross to the Eccles Cliff due to the solid slab of ice which had replaced the Teas in the valley. The children of the town found it fun but the local people were careful to ensure that their animals were kept under cover and protected from the severe frosts. 
     It was the birth of Ælle that changed Ædra. As if something had slipped in her mind, Ædra became mother, nurse and slave to her young nephew as the first thaw came in March. She would spend hours holding the baby and even trying to feed it herself, much to the amusement of Carra. Ædred, however, was worried. He had never seen his sister like this before. While she had been depressed, he had understood, but now she was far too happy to be natural and he watched her constantly for signs of what he suspected would be the complete and utter breakdown of her mind. 
     Things got worse as spring progressed and, at times, Ædra would not give up Carra’s baby, even to be fed, and she was becoming obsessed with unimportant things and seemed, sometimes, to be bordering on suicide. 
     It was the morning in which Carra had refused to let Ædra hold Ælle that it happened. Carra sat, clutching the baby to herself, as Ædra stood and smiled at her as her eyes went deep blue. If Ædred had not been close at hand, he didn’t know what might or might not have happened that day but Carra said afterward that she had never felt such stark fear before and that she had begun to choke as her throat had been gradually constricted by some terrible force. Ædred had burst in as his wife was struggling for breath, the baby screaming, and had instinctively hit out at Ædra with all his strength to try to break the evil spell. His sister had taken the blow without wincing, blood trickling from the side of her mouth, eyes tightly closed, fists clenched by her sides, while Carra gasped and wheezed, fighting for breath. 
     Ædred struggled against the impulse to hug his sister but strained to communicate his love silently and her eyes suddenly popped open. She smiled a very happy smile and, without a word, turned and left their home. They did not see where she went, did not care, as Ædred helped his wife to recover and the baby to be subdued. 
     Ædra walked down the street as townspeople looked and shook their heads, climbed over the dyke, and walked over the rise to Crayethorne. As she entered the village, she saw that Brother John had been right. Like the nine lepers cured by Jesus, the woman had given birth to her child but had forgotten to thank the one responsible. 
     ‘Princess,’ Frieda cried and, with a sudden feeling of guilt, ran for her young child and stood, holding it in front of Ædra, grief for her injustice and lack of gratitude painfully etched upon her face. 
     Ædra stopped a foot in front of her and stared for a moment before slowly holding out her arms and embracing the woman and child tightly, tears flowing fast and free. 
     She stayed there for the rest of the day, her time split between talking about her new-found God and bursting into tears as she kept remembering the one who had brought the hope to her. People of the village came and listened as she quoted the word of God to them and they took it all in. By evening, she had preached to all in the village and the offer had been made to have a church built there. As the sun declined in the sky, she got up to go but was confronted by a group composed of several of the men who had participated in her attempted murder just that short time ago. 
     ‘Princess Ædra,’ one said. ‘You are good woman.’ 
     She smiled back, not knowing quite what to say. They stood, still a little embarrassed, so she went and kissed them all on the cheek, smiling as she did so. 
     ‘Thank you, my good friends,’ she said. ‘I love you all.’ 
     ‘We... give,’ said the biggest one, holding out his hand. 
     Ædra looked mystified, then took the object from him. It was exceptionally heavy, made of twisted metal and carved beautifully at each end with sparkling stones set in its extremities. She held it up to the light and her eyes grew wide. It was made of solid gold. Before she could speak, one of the men carefully took it from her hands and gently placed it around her neck until it was comfortable. 
     ‘Is Torc,’ he said, his hands on her shoulders. 
     ‘Torc,’ she repeated and they smiled and nodded. 
     ‘Torc,’ he said again as if it should mean something. 
     The woman stood up then bowed to Ædra. ‘Now you our Princess,’ she said firmly. ‘We obey only you.’ 
     ‘Oh, but...’ she started. 
     ‘You our Princess,’ insisted one of the men and they all fell to their knees before her. 
     Tears came from her eyes again as she stood there, but the peaceful scene was disturbed by the sound of running footsteps. A boy from Iarum practically fell into the room and fought for his breath. 
     ‘Princess...’ he finally got out. ‘You must come quick. Cruithni are here.’ 
     Ædra’s hands went to her chest. The Picts. She looked around at the faces and said; ‘I must return to Iarum. Cruithni come.’ 
     A hand fell on her arm and she turned to face the big man. ‘Wait! We come, too. We fight Cruithni with you.’ 
     Ædra looked down at Frieda as menfolk ran hither and thither collecting weapons of all kinds. Eventually, they were ready and, as the sun finally set, Princess Ædra of Camelot proudly led an army of fifty loyal soldiers into battle. 

NINE

     Ædred was waiting for his sister in the market place at Iarum and, as she approached, was unsure as to how he was going to deal with the situation. Ædra did not hesitate. She went straight up to him, threw her arms around his neck and gave him the biggest kiss he had ever had or was ever likely to get in the rest of his life. 
     ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the end of her nose touching his. ‘I’ve been a beast.’ 
     ‘If I get a greeting like that every time you come back,’ he said, trying to get his breath back. ‘Then you must go away more often.’ 
     Ædra threw her head back and laughed aloud and then blushed deep crimson as the whole town banged spears and swords against shields with such a frenzy that the Picts, if they’d had any sense at all, should have given up and gone home right there and then. However, they had come a long way and were not going home empty-handed. 
     ‘Where are they?’ asked Ædred. 
     ‘The main force came southward through Binovia, your highnesses,’ said the messenger. ‘They are now being held up by the Brigantes at the old Roman bridge at Morbia and cannot break through. However, this afternoon, a large force destroyed Dearnoth’s Farm and are now heading east.’ 
     ‘Then they are headed for here,’ Ædred said with certainty. ‘The ford is flooded at Denusdael so this is the only place east of Morbia where they can cross the river.’ 
     Ædra turned to her brother. ‘How many of us are there?’ 
     ‘One hundred and twelve from the town,’ he calculated. ‘Thirty from Eccles Cliff and your fifty. Not many, is it?’ 
     ‘It is enough,’ she said with certainty. ‘Gideon had but three hundred and he won.’ She smiled. ‘We just need a bigger miracle, that’s all.’ 
     ‘You think we can win?’ 
     ‘Don’t doubt, brother of mine, have faith. This time, we act in the name of God so cannot fail.’ 
     A rider plunged into the water in the darkness and made his way into the town. ‘They have encamped this side of Milltun, Prince Ædred. They will be here at the next low tide.’ 
     ‘When is that?’ Ædra asked her brother. 
     He watched the water for a moment. ‘It’s on the flood now, so it will be around dawn when the waters are receded again.’ 
     ‘Then we must go and pay them a visit, you and I.’ 
     ‘Cross the river?’ said the messenger. ‘If you go across now, you may not be able to get back again.’ 
     ‘We will be back,’ she said sweetly, and issued instructions. ‘Carra, please take all the older women and young children with you to the maidun. Gann, take your Angles and dig a series of deep ditches at an angle right across the road at the water’s edge. Polimus;’ she said to one of the Romans. ‘Are you with us?’ 
     The tall, dark man pulled back his broad shoulders. ‘Yes, Princess. We are ten and right with you.’ 
     ‘Very well, you will accompany my brother and I into their camp. Dugald, take your men and make barricades across the town just up from the river. Mungo, my friend;’ she said to the man from Crayethorne. ‘Just after we leave, light a big fire. Use all the wood from the town. The trees, my house, everything but the church.’ 
     Mungo nodded and departed, collecting his men. 
     ‘Rodric, take the young women and boys and get baskets and sacks, anything that can carry sand and soft soil and fill them. When they are filled, dump the contents there.’ She pointed. ‘And there.’ 
     ‘What if they come in force?’ Rodric asked. 
     ‘That is something they cannot do. The ford is very narrow here and they will have to come across one at a time so we will simply kill them, one, by one, by one. Come Ædred, Polimus, let us go and give them the fright of their lives.’ 
     Ædra stopped briefly at her house and slipped quickly out of her drab dress and boots and put on the long, white gown Helga had given her. She brushed her short hair and carefully adjusted the golden torc around her neck. 
     ‘Wow!’ said her brother to Polumus as Ædra stepped from the cabin and walked towards the boat. 
     ‘Wow, indeed,’ replied the Roman carefully. ‘If all else fails, your sister will charm them to death.’ 
     Stepping into the boat, she was rowed across while the others followed on horseback. At the other side, Ædra started to run. Polumus, dressed in Roman armour left him by his father, looked at Ædred as if to say; “who on earth is this we have as a leader?” but nevertheless followed the ghostlike figure as she bounded across the heath towards Newsham. 
     As they got closer, they could see that the Picts were encamped close to the river in a very haphazard manner. Ædra stopped at the top of the last rise and bade Ædred and Polimus dismount. ‘Get your men to wait here, Polimus. They must cover our retreat if we have to escape in a hurry, though I doubt that will be so.’ She smiled a smile that made even the old Roman’s heart flutter. ‘Are you still game for a laugh?’ 
     ‘I am with you to the death, Princess,’ he said proudly. 
     ‘Then come. Let us see what these barbarians are really made of.’ 
     With head high and sheer, white gown billowing out behind her, Ædra walked regally towards the encampment, Roman on her left, Saxon on her right. The camp was not prepared for visitors and the painted heathens stood, open mouthed, as Ædra walked straight into the camp and up to the tent with the most skins outside. Two fierce-looking men barred her way with crossed spears as she made to enter the big tent and she simply glared at them. Gradually, they withered from her stare and she walked inside, bidding the others wait. 
     The tent fell silent as she stepped in and observed the scene before her. About ten men in skins and boots sat around on the floor while they watched three young children being roasted over a pile of hot coals. She was revolted at the sight but carefully showed no feelings as she stepped up to the man who was obviously the leader. He begun to guffaw with his mouth still full of what she could now clearly see was flesh from one of the victims. Fighting back the bile in her throat, she stood defiantly before him. 
     ‘And who might you be, my pretty one,’ he bellowed, cutting off another slice to impress her. 
     ‘I am Princess Ædra,’ she said calmly, exaggerating just a little here and there; ‘Daughter of King Arthur of Camelot, Empress of the Roman armies in Britannia and Queen of the Anglisc.’ 
     ‘Why you come?’ the leader asked. 
     She smiled. ‘I came to warn you.’ 
     ‘To warn us?’ he said incredulously. ‘Why do you warn us?’ 
     ‘Because, tomorrow,’ she looked around at the men; ‘Tomorrow, you will all die.’ 
     ‘We not afraid of you,’ he said, pointing a wicked-looking, long-bladed knife at her. 
     ‘No?’ she said, lifting an eyebrow. ‘If you look outside, you will see that I have brought with me General Seleucus Polimus of the Roman Seventh Legion and King Ædred of the Anglisc. As supreme commander of the armed forces in Britain, I have allied our own army to that of theirs to ensure that you are driven from our land.’ 
     ‘You do not have the men for this.’ 
     ‘Are you sure? Look.’ She held up the tent flap. ‘You see that great glow in the sky? That is the light from the fires of the many troops awaiting first light before coming to destroy you.’ 
     ‘I do not believe you,’ he said with a voice suddenly lacking conviction. 
     ‘Then you have just a matter of hours to live. I wish you goodbye and good riddance.’ She turned to go. 
     ‘Wait!’ he shouted after her. ‘How do you know that I will let you go free?’ 
     She turned back to him and seemed to tower above him in her gown which moved around her like a wisp of autumn mist. Her eyes met his as she leant towards him until their faces were inches apart and she could smell his vile breath. 
     ‘Just you try to stop me,’ she challenged. 
     He laughed and started to rise when a great force gripped his throat and he choked on his grisly meal as his face went purple and he fought for breath. His men grew alarmed but found that they could not move either as he writhed on the floor, his eyes almost popping out of his head. 
     ‘Go!’ he managed to blurt out and then fell back, moaning. 
     Ædra paused by the roasting children and looked back at him. ‘You will pay for your disgusting treatment of these people,’ she promised. ‘Tomorrow, I will see you die slowly and will laugh at your pleas for mercy.’

     The rear guard was not needed as Ædra ran bawling into the night, Ædred and Polimus marching behind. They collected their mounts and men and finally found her near the boat at Eccles Cliff and Ædred rowed her across in silence. 
     ‘Will they still come?’ asked Polimus. 
     ‘I don’t know,’ replied Ædred. ‘I really don’t know.’ 
     ‘I certainly hope so,’ spat Ædra. ‘I shall enjoy butchering them like they did those poor, poor children.’ 
     Ædred’s hand gripped her shoulder as she wept again, this time for well over an hour.


     At first light, they saw the chariots lined up on the rise opposite the ford, the vicious, iron scythes protruding from the wheels, the horses’ legs covered with spiked armour. It was clear, however, that not all had come. Out of the original eight thousand, only three or four thousand now remained. That was better. The odds were now only twenty-to-one. The men of the town were all crouched behind the barricades, waiting for the inevitable charge. 
     As the sun cleared Round Hill, Ædra stepped out from behind the barricades and walked casually down to the water’s edge. The tide was almost completely out and the level of water low enough to allow passage and she looked down and smiled at the work accomplished during the night. 
     The Cruithni leader saw her and rode down the other side in his chariot led by four giant war horses. 
     ‘Be careful, Princess,’ called Rodric. ‘You are within their slingshot range.’ 
     Ædra turned and thanked him as the chariot stopped opposite her. 
     ‘You fooled us, girl,’ the Cruithni leader shouted across the water. ‘There are but a few of you.’ 
     ‘We have few men, yes. But we have Almighty God on our side. We cannot lose.’ 
     ‘Who is this god?’ he taunted. 
     ‘It is the Sovereign Lord and his son, Jesus the Christ.’ 
     ‘Don’t be fooled by superstition, girl. Woden and Thunor did not protect the Northumbrians, and Samhain and Manopus abandoned the Brigantes. What makes you think that your gods are any more powerful?’ 
     ‘Because they are real,’ she shouted back at him. ‘They will not let you stamp out all the good, Christian work which has been done here.’ 
     ‘I defy your gods to help you. How can you possibly win?’ 
     ‘I have Ædred and Polimus, Rodric and Mungo.’ A cheeky smile came to her face. ‘And I also have Greta.’ 
     ‘Greta? Who is Greta?’ 
     ‘Attack and you will find out who she is and just how vindictive she can be.’ 
     The Pict leader turned to his Generals. ‘The man who touches that girl is dead. I want her for myself. I want her alive so that I can watch the men abusing her before we eat her, piece by piece.’ 
     He wheeled his chariot back up the slope and took position at the head of his barbarian army. Ædra stayed where she was, right in the path of the invading army. 
     They charged. 
     Dust rose from the wheels as the leader drove his chariot down the slope and then into the water. The horses galloped through the shallow water in their armoured plates, the wheels of the chariot spraying a huge plume of water each side as the whirling knives advanced, hungry for blood. Right behind the leader came two more, their drivers charging and shouting as they ploughed into the river. Ædra stood on the slope down to the river, smiling, as the first horses came to within ten feet of her. Then, as if by magic, the leader’s chariot suddenly overturned, pitching him and his driver into the water. A young boy of the village ran bravely from behind the barricade and slashed at the thongs holding the horses to the chariot so that the animals ran free to be caught by others in the town. 
     The next two chariots crashed into the first and overturned, the water washing the wooden chariots off the narrow ford into the deeper water. The following chariots tried to go round the first but the water was too deep and they rolled off the shallow causeway and the men drowned under the weight of their armour. 
     Horses panicked and made things worse by dragging the upturned chariots into a position where the road was completely blocked. As a consequence, the next row of chariots was stopped and Ædra turned and smiled at Ædred who signalled to the men to let fly with their slingshots. The men in the river were neither prepared for nor protected from the rain of flints which barraged them and most fell to drown, others fleeing in total panic. 
     The road was totally impassable. Those who tried to push their way past either drowned in the current as they tried to go round or were pummelled to death by stones carried down from the maidun during the night. The sand and soft soil which had also been brought in sacks and baskets had been dumped into the ditches at the edge of the river, making a sticky mud when the tide had flooded. This had gripped the chariots wheels, preventing movement up the slope. Nature and momentum had done the rest. 
     ‘Mungo,’ called Ædra and the giant Jute threw burning torches into the wooden chariots in the river and the defence was complete. Four thousand Barbarian Picts had been halted by a handful of farmers and fishermen, led by a girl of fifteen. 
     As Mungo stepped to the last chariot, there was a movement and the leader, still alive but trapped, called for help. None came. Ædra held up her hand to Mungo and stepped into the water. At a distance of six feet, she looked at him without pity. 
     ‘Help me,’ he said feebly, the weight of his armour preventing him rising from beneath his overturned chariot as Mungo stood, torch in hand, beside him. 
     ‘Why should I help you?’ asked Ædra. 
     ‘Spare me,’ he begged. 
     ‘Like you did those children you ate? Set light to him, Mungo,’ she said, starting to walk away. 
     ‘No,’ he called. ‘Anything but that.’ 
     She turned back. ‘Anything?’ 
     ‘Yes, please. Anything at all.’ 
     ‘Very well.’ She smiled. ‘Greta shall have you.’ 
     ‘Greta?’ He was puzzled again. 
     Her eyes looked to the west where clouds covered the distant hills. ‘Yes, Greta. She will be here soon. Not as angry as last year, I know, but I think that I will leave you to her.’ She turned to Mungo. ‘Kill anyone who tries to help him.’ 
     The chieftain from Craythorne nodded and Ædra stepped out of the water and sat where her home had been, a sacrifice to the delusion of the previous night. No more dared enter that narrow strip of death that day and, gradually, the Picts dispersed and rode away northwards in shame. One or two had tried to save their leader but none that tried, lived under the hail of stones. Gradually, the level of the water rose as Greta tipped her surplus into the Teas which met the tide coming in from the east. Only Ædra sat and watched as the water slowly but inexorably rose and drowned out the pitiful cries of the leader of the Cruithni. 
     That afternoon, her brother led the men of Iarum across the river and westward to assist in breaking the siege at Morbium while Ædra helped the women in attempting to re-establish some kind of order in the town. A watch was kept on the Northtun road but no Picts returned. 
     News of the battle spread like wildfire. Added to that was Ædred’s glorious victory at Morbium where, with just over a hundred men and Excalibur, he had trapped the Picts between the river and the old Roman fort and had put to flight over a thousand of them. People cheered as Ædred led his victorious army into the fort. Within three months, the people, Britons and Angles alike, came to Iarum and insisted on installing the twins as rulers at Ebor, promising to establish a Christian church there to commemorate the victory God had given them. 
     Ædred was delighted because a great step had been made in uniting these once-divided people and agreed at once to help continue the trend. Ædra, however, declined. She looked around at the happy smiling faces and decided that, at least for the time being, she could not bring herself to leave her friends in her new home. 
     When Ædra waved goodbye to her brother that hot, June day, part of her life went with him. It was not her power that she would miss, she had come to rely now on the power of the word of God. It was that here she was on her own for the first time since they had first met on the Tor above Camelot. 
     She worked hard at teaching and helping the sick and needy, to drive away the loneliness, but more pain was to follow. One Saturday, as she sat in the shade of the church doorway telling Bible stories to the people in the market place, a stranger came into town on a grey donkey. He spoke to one or two and then, because Ædra had stopped speaking, he stepped towards her. She rose to her feet and a sudden, sharp pain drove into her chest for no known reason. With each step the man took towards her, the dagger in her heart twisted and turned till she could barely stand. The footsteps stopped before her and the big bag with the square shape dropped to the paved walkway in front of the church. 
     She screamed. ‘No, no. Please, not that. Please, Lord, anything but that.’ 
     The stranger looked at the ground sadly and then gently touched her shoulder with compassion. 
     ‘But he can’t be dead. He can’t be.’ She sat down and several ran to help her as her tears poured out of her heart. Gently, she took out the Book and held it tight to her chest as if it were Brother John himself. 
     ‘How did it happen?’ she eventually managed to say. 
     ‘Plague,’ the messenger replied. ‘Over the last year, thousands of Anglisc have been driven from their homes in Germany by the barbaric Huns. Many of them sailed over the Norsey as refugees and landed at Portrack. Hundreds, maybe thousands, more have perished in the sea. We have tried to help those who survived the journey but there are many women and children as well as menfolk and they are a pitiable sight.’ 
     ‘Why have you done all this for strangers from over the sea? Most of the Britons seem to fear that they will become overrun with Anglisc and reject them out of hand.’ 
     ‘We have not the heart to do so, Princess. We are, after all, members of the brotherhood, the Cymbri.’ 
     ‘You have all been very kind,’ said Ædra. ‘I will ensure that this comes to the notice of the King and you are given whatever help is possible.’ 
     ‘Your brother may have his work cut out already in Ebor, Princess. Thousands of refugees have landed on the east coast and many more have sailed up-river to Ebor.’ 
     ‘Then how can I help?’ 
     ‘Brother John was helping the healers at the waterside when he caught the Plague which had come with the boats. He had already established a church there and many were beginning to attend his readings. He has saved many lives, you know.’ 
     ‘That would be just like him. I would like to thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘You will stay for a while?’ 
     ‘Thank you, Princess, but no. I must return to see what more can be done.’ 
     ‘Very well,’ she smiled and kissed his cheek. ‘God be with you.’ 

TEN

     Ædra rose that evening, put on her best wollen dress and leather shoes, summoned the town Fyrd, and came straight to the point. 
     ‘My friends, I have a work to do,’ she informed them as they listened attentively. ‘One that will take me away from here. Not permanently,’ she hastened to add as murmuring broke out. 
     She walked around them for a while as they watched her intently: the balding Roman in his white toga; Gann, the fair-haired giant; Alaric, the blacksmith; Rodric, who could read and write; Mungo, the chieftain from Crayethorne; as well as several others. The respect they had come to have for her bordered on the worship that she would only allow them to have for the rightful One in heaven. 
     ‘I must continue the work of Brother John, and need someone to keep things going here. I would recommend Rodric for churchman. Does anyone not agree?’ No-one disagreed. ‘I also think that the time has come to appoint our own Council of nobles with a Thegn. I would suggest Polimus, Mungo and Alaric for council with the official position of Thegn to rotate each year until my brother agrees to a more permanent appointment. All factions in our community would be represented in that way. Does that seem fair?’ 
     All agreed, not that anyone would have disagreed. Her discernment was now almost legendary and she had become, over her short life, an excellent judge of human nature. The documents were raised by Rodric and it was done. The first Christian Council was established in the North of Angland. 
     ‘I will return regularly,’ she said as the business of the evening drew to a close. 
     ‘When will you go?’ asked Rodric. 
     ‘I must leave tomorrow. There are people dying in the ports who need my help and the message from God.’ 
     ‘What of the plague?’ asked Alaric. 
     ‘I cannot get the plague. There is not time.’ 
     ‘It got Brother John,’ Polimus warned quietly. ‘And he was a man of God.’ 
     Her eyes sparkled in the dim light. ‘It will not take me,’ she reaffirmed and looked around the familiar faces for several minutes while she fought back the tears. ‘My good friends. I shall miss you all very much.’

     She left the next day, promising to return by October to spend the winter with them. Dressed in a leather skirt and waistcoat made for her by the local tanner, she walked along the Spital, the Book in her arms, waving to all who had come to see her off. It was as she topped the rise near the maidun and looked down on the home that she would not see again for some months, that she heard the sound behind her. She turned slowly as the man stood up and towered above her, his cap on his head, his bag over his shoulder. 
     ‘So you decided to come,’ she said with a smile. 
     ‘There is nothing to keep me here,’ replied the blond giant. ‘You are all I have left in the world.’ He smiled. ‘Besides, someone has to look after you.’ 
     She looked up at him for a long time, then she slowly held up her hand to him and he took it in his own and nodded to her. 
     ‘Uncle Gann,’ she said finally. ‘Thank you.’


     The weather was good to them as they carried on their journey. They stopped at the small church at Crayethorne on the way, bid their temporary farewells and installed Sister Frieda as teacher until their return. Frieda held her young child tightly and smiled broadly at the honour bestowed upon her. Crossing the Leven, they set off northward through Steintun, Acklun and, by the last week in June, arrived in the little port of Mandael where they found the church Brother John had started by his unceasing labour. There were a considerable number of Anglisc families in the town and they gladly accepted the word whereas the Britons, as usual, were more reserved and sceptical in their recognition and acceptance of truth. 
     They stayed there for a month, preaching and teaching during the day, slaving to help the sick in the evenings and often late into the night. Soon, a good congregation was established with its own local churchman and Ædra and Gann became superfluous to needs. They had made a lot of friends who were sad when Ædra announced her intention to leave on a short tour of the coastal villages before returning to Iarum. Going east from Mandael, they preached in Astun and started another church at Westlid. It was late September by the time that Ædra arrived in Reedcarr and immediately sought out Harald and Emma in their little fishing cottage. 
     ‘Hello,’ she simply said as she stood on their doorstep, the Book in her arms, Gann towering behind her. 
     Emma backed away, amazed at seeing Ædra again. ‘Come in, come in,’ she insisted, wiping her hands on her short apron. 
     ‘This is my Uncle Gann,’ introduced Ædra. ‘Uncle, these are my dear friends, Harald and Emma.’ 
     ‘We are so pleased to see you, Princess,’ greeted Harald. ‘How are your brother and friend?’ 
     ‘Married for one,’ she replied, accepting Emma’s invitation to be seated. ‘King and Queen at Ebor for another.’ 
     ‘I’m so pleased. And what of yourself? Are you still at Iarum?’ 
     ‘Some of the time. I travel about a lot, though, and talk to lots of people about you and Harald.’ 
     They were startled at first, but Ædra went on to explain about the Good Samaritan, the Ten Lepers and so on. The old couple listened in awe as so many had done before her as she reasoned from the Book and the truth it contained. The message had such an impact on these good souls that they were baptised in the sea at the ages of sixty-seven and fifty-nine. Yet another congregation was established and Ædra was happy to return to Iarum for the winter. Harald would not hear of them walking so, with the help of another fisherman, Ædra sailed regally up the Teas to the only place she knew as home.


     The whole town turned out to meet them and help her from the boat as they arrived that evening. Harald and his colleague were pressed into staying the night and Ædra saw them bedded down in her own bunk before going next door to the little church to pray. Roderick entered while she was there. 
     ‘Princess...’ he began. 
     ‘Sister Ædra,’ she corrected him with a smile to take away the implied criticism. ‘I am not Princess to you people. You now have your own Thegn and council, subordinate to my brother. I have no official standing here.’ 
     ‘Sister Ædra,’ he smiled back. ‘I have a message for you. Men came last week, men from Cantiburgh. They said they had something to give you, a great honour.’ 
     ‘Honour?’ She was mystified. ‘For what?’ 
     ‘For the great work that you are doing, they said.’ 
     ‘I do not want honours. The joy on the faces of folk as I teach them the word of God is honour enough for me.’ 
     ‘Do you only ever think of others, Ædra?’ 
     ‘It is my ministry as it was that of the Lord Jesus.’ 
     ‘Even Jesus rested at times.’ 
     ‘Only when he had run out of people to preach to. He didn’t sit in one place and wait for disciples to come to him, you know. He went from home to home, village to village, city to city.’ 
     ‘Do you mean that every Christian should travel just like you do? Including me?’ 
     ‘Not necessarily,’ she laughed. ‘The Book certainly makes it very clear that all Christians should teach and preach but if we were all to go gallivanting about the countryside, who would care for the people here? No, God needs you here, Brother Rodric, to take care for his sheep.’ 
     ‘I envy you at times, Ædra.’ 
     ‘Don’t,’ she said, her hand on his. ‘We each have our place in God’s arrangement. One day, even Brother John would have settled down and he promised that it would have been here.’ She fought to suppress the tears at his memory. 
     ‘You loved him, didn’t you?’ Rodric asked kindly. 
     ‘Yes,’ she nodded, a lone tear tricked down her cheek. ‘It was very wrong of me but I did, I did.’ 
     ‘How can it be wrong to love?’ 
     ‘Because I wanted him, not for the Lord, but for myself. I wanted him to love me.’ 
     ‘But he didn’t want it?’ 
     ‘He did, but he had work to do first. That is why I must finish his work. It is what he would have wanted me to do.’ 
     ‘Ædra,’ he said, touching her cheek gently with his fingertips. ‘You are still very young. Have some fun in life. Don’t become bitter as some have.’ 
     ‘I am not bitter,’ she finally said. ‘It’s just...it’s just that there is so much work to do and so few to do it.’ 
     ‘That’s what Jesus said.’ 
     ‘He did?’ 
     ‘Remember? He said, “The harvest is great but the workers are few.” He could not change everyone, so don’t try and do it all yourself, now.’ 
     ‘I won’t,’ she said eventually. ‘I want to thank you.’ 
     ‘Thank me? For what?’ 
     ‘For making me see what I need to do.’ 
     ‘And what is that?’ 
     ‘I must go to Ebor.’ 
     ‘Ebor?’ 
     ‘And then DanucÆstra and Æscafeld and...’ She stood up, suddenly very pale and drawn. 
     ‘Ædra, what is it?’ Rodric was alarmed at her sudden loss of composure. 
     She turned to face him. ‘I have done a terrible wrong.’ 
     ‘You? You could never have done wrong.’ 
     ‘Yes, I have.’ She stared at him in the half-light. ‘I have murdered women and children in their beds, slaughtered animals, brought pain and death to hundreds, perhaps thousands of people.’
     Rodric was horrified. ‘What on earth do you mean?’ 
     ‘I must return to Camelot.’ 
     ‘Camelot?’ 
     ‘Yes, I must go at once. People are dying there, every day, because of what I have done.’ 
     ‘Perhaps, in the Spring.’ 
     ‘No. I must go now, tonight.’ 
     He put his foot down. ‘You cannot possibly go tonight.’ 
     ‘Why not?’ 
     ‘Because I will not let you, for one thing. Just occasionally, you must consider yourself. The men from Cantiburgh are coming again tomorrow. Find out what it is that they have to say and then you can make a decision.’ 
     She sat down again beside him and laid her head on his shoulder. ‘You are right and I am very tired. Another day will not hurt.’ 
     ‘How will you go?’ 
     ‘I will walk.’ She seemed surprised that he should ask. 
     ‘No good, it will take to long. You must go by boat.’ 
     ‘But Harald is to old to go that far.’ 
     ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he pondered. ‘There must be someone else who has access to a boat and who owes you a favour.’ 
     ‘I don’t know...’ She stood up again. ‘Yes, I do. I know just the man.’ She threw her arms around Rodric’s neck and hugged him. 
     ‘And what are you doing with my husband?’ came the voice from the doorway. 
     Ædra ran over and put her arms around the young woman who stood there. ‘Hulda,’ she said. ‘Will you do me a very great favour?’ 
     Hulda laughed. ‘Of course, Princess.’ 
     ‘Love your husband well tonight, he has given me the purpose I lacked. He has shown me the light.’ 
     ‘You’re a fine one. You take risks and wear yourself to the bone for others and are suprised, almost shocked, when someone wants to help you in return.’ 
     ‘But I want to help others.’ 
     ‘Then do so, but let yourself be helped, too. If you keep on going as you have been, you will be dead before you are twenty. What good will that do the community?’ 
     ‘You are right, my sister,’ she said in the darkness. ‘Now take your husband and go before he offers to escort me to Camelot.’


     The men from Cantiburgh arrived early as Ædra was teaching the children a song which helped them to remember the books of the Bible. There were two of them and they came in a carriage-type vehicle pulled by four horses. 
     Ædra rose to her feet in her chemise and short, leather teaching skirt and walked into the market place to greet them. They stepped down from the coach and fussed about while she watched. 
     ‘So this is Iarum,’ the one dressed in grey was saying as he eased his back. ‘Rather scruffy, isn’t it? You would have thought that they would have had the decency to lay on something special for us.’ 
     The other man sneered. ‘What did you expect, Guissepi? This is, after all, the Cleeve Land. They are a miserable bunch of peasants up here in the north.’ He noticed Ædra for the first time as she approaced. ‘Child, we need wine after our long journey.’ 
     Ædra bowed respectfully. ‘Certainly, kind sirs.’ She ran off to do their bidding and was soon back. She watched as they drank thirstilly. The one in purple had a long chain around his neck and, on the end of it, was an enormous gold crucifix. 
     ‘Don’t you have any food?’ he asked rudely. 
     ‘Yes, sir,’ Ædra said and turned to go. 
     ‘My Lord Bishop,’ stated the other man firmly. 
     Ædra stopped. ‘What?’ 
     ‘You must refer to my colleague as “My Lord Bishop.”’ He folded his hands across his stomach. ‘And you may call me “Father.”’ 
     The young woman bowed slightly, trying to hide her smile as she turned and left. 
     The Bishop sat down wearily. ‘Children, these days. They have no respect for their superiors. I hope that this Sister Ædra has got most of these people trained better than that cheeky little slut.’ 
     The girl in question returned with food and laid it before them on the table. The clergyman stared at it in ill-disguised contempt. ‘Is this all you’ve got?’ 
     Ædra looked confused. ‘Sirs, you have before you the entire contents of my larder. It is good enough for the rest of us here.’ 
     The Bishop flushed with rage. ‘How dare you speak to me like that. Now run along and inform this teacher of yours that we are here and waiting for her.’ 
     Ædra drew herself erect to her full five-foot-six. ‘The teacher is fully aware that you are here and, to be perfectly frank, she wishes that you were not.’ 
     The priest made a grab for her. ‘You young witch.’ 
     Ædra nimbly sidestepped out of his reach and it was at that very moment that Rodric chose to arrive upon the scene. ‘Are your lordships provided for?’ 
     The Bishop was furious. ‘All we have been given is the rubbish this disrespectful slut brought us.’ So saying, he tipped the food from the table. ‘Now be a good chap and get this so-called Sister Ædra for us. I am a very patient man but even my patience is swiftly running out.’ 
     ‘But, my Lords,’ flustered the village churchman. He pointed to the young woman. ‘This is Sister Ædra.’ 
     The two visitors were dumbstruck that someone so young could be revered over so great a part of the country. Eventually, the priest opened his mouth to speak. 
     ‘Don’t you dare say a word,’ snapped Ædra. ‘You come here in your fancy dress with your fancy titles and call me;’ she stabbed her own chest with her index finger; ‘me, a slut and a peasant. I offer you all the food these people have given me out of their need and you throw it upon the ground in disgust. I tell you one thing, gentlemen. If you are not in your carriage and out of here in one minute, I will have Rodric set the village dogs on you.’ 
     ‘But be reasonable, Sister Ædra.’ 
     ‘Reasonable?’ she screeched. ‘Brother John was right, you people are just like whitewashed graves which look fine upon the outside but, inside, you stink like rotting fish.’ 
     ‘But we have come from the Cardinal. We bring you great honour.’ 
     ‘What is this great honour?’ she asked warily. 
     ‘The Church is aware of your good work and the Cardinal has instructed me to offer you a..a canonisation.’ 
     ‘Sainte Ædra of Iarum,’ whispered Rodric in awe. ‘That is indeed a very great honour.’ 
     Ædra quietly sat down, thinking of how many more might hear the word she spoke if she was officially recognised. ‘And what would I have to do to gain this honour?’ 
     ‘Nothing,’ said the smiling priest, feeling he had won her over. ‘The Church asks nothing in return.’ He paused. ‘Except...’ 
     ‘There is always an “except” with you people, isn’t there?’ She sighed. ‘What is the “except” this time?’ 
     He drew a deep breath. ‘You must conform to our Christian Dogma.’ 
     ‘And what, pray, would that entail?’ 
     ‘You would enter into a special school and meditate for some years so as to be trained in episcopal law. And then...’ 
     ‘I haven’t the time for all that. I have lives to save, people to teach. Who will do that while I am away at this Episcopal School of yours?’ 
     ‘There are plenty of others who can help the peasants.’ 
     ‘Who, for example?’ 
     He nervously indicated Rodric. ‘Him?’ 
     Ædra shook her head. ‘Brother Rodric has enough to do already. Besides, why do I have to learn Church law? What is wrong with the Bible? That was good enough for Brother John.’ 
     The priest coughed. ‘We would rather you did not mention that man’s name in our presence.’ 
     Ædra exploded. ‘Who do you think you are, coming here trying to bribe me to conform to your sick ways? Brother John knew his Bible well and I have learned more from that book than I ever learned before.’ 
     ‘How can you, a mere child, know the Holy Writings?’ 
     Ædra glared at him for a moment and then stormed off into the little church. She was back in a moment with Brother John’s huge New Testament which she slammed down upon the table in front of them. ‘Open it!’ 
     The men looked at each other. The Bishop shrugged and the priest obeyed. 
     ‘What is the book and chapter?’ she asked him. 
     He glanced down at the illuminated heading. ‘Matthew chapter twenty-three.’ 
     ‘What does it say?’ 
     He looked down again. 
     She placed her small hand on the page. ‘No, don’t read it. Quote it from memory.’ 
     He laughed. ‘Good heavens, girl. How can I do that?’ 
     ‘I thought that you went to this place where they teach you Episcopal Law.’ 
     ‘I did.’ 
     For a long time, she simply stared at him and then began to quote. ‘Be not ye called Rabbi for one is your master, even Christ; and all ye are bretheren.’ Her gaze focussed upon the priest. ‘And call no man your father upon earth for one is your Father, which is in heaven.’ 
     The two clergymen sat in silence as she continued to humiliate them with her superior knowledge. ‘Neither be ye called masters for one is your master, even Christ. But he that is the greatest among you shall be your servant.’ 
     She got to her feet and stood right before the Bishop. ‘And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted.’ 
     The priest protested in a hoarse whisper. ‘But you read that in the Anglisc language.’ 
     ‘And?’ 
     ‘But the good Book is in Latin. Out of respect for the memory of Saint Jerome, we must maintain the tradition of always reading it in that language.’ 
     ‘Why?’ 
     ‘Why? You dare ask why?’ 
     ‘Yes. I speak Anglisc, you speak Anglisc. These people speak Anglisc and, I suspect, God can speak Anglisc, too.’ 
     A look of horror came over his face. ‘That is blasphemy.’ 
     Ædra gritted her teeth in suppressed anger. ‘No. It is truth.’ 
     ‘Truth?’ he laughed nervously. ‘Truth is not important.’ 
     Ædra leant forward, her face an inch from his. ‘Truth is everything. That is what Christianity is all about. It’s not about dogmas and fancy dress. It’s about people and lives.’ 
     ‘Does this mean that you will not accept the honour?’ 
     Ædra pulled back and laughed aloud. ‘I would not accept it for anything. I am not going to waste my life sitting in some dark room learning dogma when I could be helping these people.’ 
     ‘I’m afraid the Cardinal will not like it.’ 
     ‘I really do not care very much what the Cardinal likes or dislikes. I am quite happy in what I am doing.’ 
     ‘You do realise the alternative, don’t you? If you do not co-operate and adjust your views to those of ours, the Holy Father will have you excommunicated.’ 
     ‘Like he did Brother John? I would rather that than conform to your pityful ways. I hope to God that your Church never gets established in this part of the country. It will mean the end of true Christianity.’ 
     ‘But...’ He hesitated. The workers were returning from the fields. Some had scythes in their hands, others pitchforks, and a look of uncertainty crossed his face. 
     ‘Go,’ said Ædra quietly. ‘Never return here if you value your lives.’ 
     ‘You would dare to threaten us?’ the Bishop protested and, as a parting shot, hissed. ‘I will see you destroyed for the way you have humiliated us today.’ 
     They left and, a few minutes later, Ædra and Rodric watched them ascend the long hill up Spital Bank. 
     Rodric sighed. ‘You have made a strong enemy there, Ædra. They will not forget what you said in a hurry.’ 
     She smiled at him. ‘I should certainly hope not.’ 
     ‘What will you do?’ 
     ‘I shall go to see my brother. He will know what to do.’ 

ELEVEN

     The morning was misty as Ædra and Gann left upon the horses forced on them by the townspeople and waved their goodbyes. There was no sadness at the departure this time but a grim determination as to what should be done as they rode the slope to the maidun. There was still mist in the Swale valley when they topped the rise above Whorlton. As they cantered along the drove road, Ædra watched the birds circle in preparation for imminent migration to warmer climates. They met few people on the way and stayed overnight in Crayke, arriving at Ebor before noon. 
     Ædred saw them coming and came down to meet them as they entered the castle’s north gateway and hugged his sister for a long time while she stood on tiptoe, clutching his neck. They walked into the castle itself arm-in-arm while Gann saw to the horses. Carra came down and Ædra waved and winked at her. 
     ‘Well, my brother,’ she said as Ædred took her riding cape from her shoulder. ‘How does it feel to be a King?’ 
     ‘Great,’ he said. ‘More to the question, how does it feel to be a hero?’ 
     ‘Hero?’ 
     ‘The report of your conversation with the gentlemen of the cloth got here ahead of you. They have become the laughing stock of Ebor.’ 
     ‘What have you done about it?’ she asked cheekily. 
     ‘Nothing - yet.’ 
     ‘What are you going to do?’ 
     He hung up her coat. ‘Come to the tower this afternoon at four and you will find out.’ 
     ‘Ædred, you are up to something.’ 
     He stroked her hair which, by now, was again grown almost to her shoulders. ‘Now what could I possibly be up to?’ 
     ‘I know you.’ She pointed her finger in his face. ‘You’ve got that mischievous look in your eye.’ 
     ‘Tell me, did the Bishop really call you a slut, a wench and a peasant?’ 
     ‘And a witch,’ she added. 
     He shook his head. ‘Tut, tut. That was not kind.’ 
     His sister smiled. ‘I got my own back.’ 
     ‘Yes, I hear that you threw them out. Good for you.’ 
     ‘You approve?’ 
     He became serious. ‘No-one. But no-one,’ he repeated; ‘Calls my sister a slut. Witch, maybe,’ he teased. ‘But slut? Never.’ 
     She clutched her brother’s hands. ‘Don’t do anything rash, Ædred.’ 
     ‘That’s what Carra said,’ he looked at his queen. ‘By the way, you two should become friends.’ 
     Ædra let go of her brother and kissed and squeezed Carra till she almost cried for mercy. ‘You are putting on weight, my girl.’ 
     ‘So would you, in my condition,’ Carra retorted. Ædra hugged her again and she almost choked. ‘Well, I was pregnant until you arrived. You are as strong as he is,’ she said, indicating her husband and King. 
     ‘It’s all that running about all over the north of Angland,’ Ædred replied. ‘It keeps her fit. How many congregations is it now, Ædra?’ 
     ‘Nine, to date,’ interrupted Gann as he entered and the men greeted each other warmly. Gann tried to kiss Carra on the cheek but she moved at the last second and her lips got in the way and they laughed as the giant became embarrassed. 
     ‘Well,’ Carra said by way of explanation. ‘I get kissed on the cheek almost every day by complete strangers. I’ve got to have something special for my friends, haven’t I?’ 
     ‘Do you realise,’ the King said; ‘That even after four years, the Church of Rome still only has one church in the north, the one here in Ebor?’ 
     ‘That’s because they sit and wait for disciples to come to them instead of the other way round,’ said Ædra. ‘I keep saying, it doesn’t work.’ 
     ‘Will you come and work in Ebor?’ asked Carra. 
     ‘Maybe, one day. But first I must go to Camelot. There is something I just have to do.’ 
     ‘You do realise that you may not be welcome, don’t you?’ said Ædred. ‘They might just kill you on sight.’ 
     She carefully examined some beautifully painted vases in the state room. ‘They could, but they won’t.’ 
     ‘You always did have lots of faith didn’t you, my sister?’ 
     ‘Without it, I would have given up long ago.’ 
     ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ 
     ‘No,’ she said, putting down the vase. ‘Your place is here with your Queen and people. There are some things I must do alone and this is one of them. I started it so I must finish it.’ 
     ‘Without your powers?’ 
     She didn’t look worried. ‘I have more power than ever before. I have God on my side.’ 
     ‘I hope so, Ædra. I should hate to lose you now.’ 
     ‘So would I. I’ve got too much work to do.’ She slipped her hand through Carra’s arm as they walked into the dining room with Ædred and Gann following. ‘Tell me, are you two determined to populate the whole of Deira all by yourselves?’

     The meal was the best Ædra had ever tasted and she felt uncomfortable afterwards with eating so much. 
     ‘I’m going for a walk,’ she declared when they had finished. ‘I must get some exercise after all that food.’ 
     ‘Keep away from the waterfront, Ædra,’ warned her brother. ‘There is plague suspected and I don’t want you dying on me.’ 
     She glared at him. ‘You’re like a mother hen, my brother.’ She smiled. ‘But I love you.’ 
     ‘Be back for four. Don’t be late.’ 
     ‘Fusspot,’ she said, poking her tongue out at the King, and walked out of the castle. 
     In her long, leather cape and hood she was unrecognisable as she mingled with the common people in the city square. 
     This must be the very best city in the world, she thought to herself as she looked at the old Roman and British buildings. Walking into the market place, she saw folk from all over the country and was thrilled to hear the different dialects of the people. She spoke to a couple with children from Waelas, a man from Cant and two wool merchants from Cymbria. Also, there were many Anglisc as she had been told by the Brother from Portrack and she sat on the low stone wall and listened to their stories and laughed along with them. 
     Then, crossing the river, she walked casually along the narrow streets towards the quayside where there were dozens of boats tied up for trade. Pausing for bearings and offering a blind beggar some food from her pouch before he could ask, she turned down the familiar street and entered the boatyard. 
     The man carefully shaping the hardwood keel did not see her at first as she stood in the shadow, watching him from the gateway. As she observed, a young boy came out of the house and went to the man. ‘Papa, can I help?’ 
     The man picked up the boy and held him in his arms and then saw Ædra standing beside the gateway. Slowly, he put the boy down and stepped towards her, straining to see who it was. As he got close, his eyes lit up. 
     Inga chose that moment to call out from the house. ‘Karl, is Conrad out there with you?’ 
     Ædra kissed his cheek, put a finger to her lips, took the child in her arms and tiptoed towards the door of the house. 
     Conrad played with her golden hair as she stepped into the open doorway of the house and said: ‘Hello, Inga.’ 
     Inga flew to her and tears poured down her face as she held Ædra tight and kissed her repeatedly, hardly believing what had happened. 
     ‘What am I thinking of?’ she eventually said. ‘Come in and sit you down. You will have something to eat?’ 
     ‘Oh, no,’ replied Ædra, lifting the bottom of her chemise and patting her bloated stomach. ‘I’ve eaten a load already today. I couldn’t touch another scrap.’ 
     ‘Some wine, then?’ 
     ‘Very well,’ she conceded with a broad smile. ‘A little wine. Thank you.’ 
     ‘And what brings you back to Ebor, my child?’ Inga asked as she carefully took the cask and filled a goblet. ‘Do you wish for a bed for a while?’ 
     ‘No, thank you. I have one at the castle. I simply came to ask a favour.’ 
     ‘A favour? What service can we do for the sister of our King?’ 
     ‘Hire me a boat.’ 
     ‘A boat?’ said Karl. ‘Where do you wish to go?’ 
     ‘To Camelot. Are you able to take me?’ 
     ‘Of course. It’s a long journey, but I would go anywhere for you, my Princess. I owe you that much for my son.’ 
     ‘What he doesn’t say is that he has hardly any work at the moment. He would be glad to take you.’ 
     ‘Why not much work, Karl?’ Ædra queried. 
     ‘It’s our people, Princess. They come in such large numbers and bring their own boats with them from the continent. It has completely knocked the bottom out of the ship-building industry.’ 
     ‘Then I will pay you well. At least my brother will. He’s the King. I’m only a poor missionary.’ 
     ‘For the Church?’ 
     ‘Yes.’ 
     Inga looked sad so Ædra put down her goblet and touched the older woman’s face with tenderness. ‘Inga, what is it?’ 
     ‘Tell her, Karl.’ 
     It was several minutes before Karl spoke. ‘We started to attend the church in the city when it first opened. We thought we were doing the right thing, being god-fearing people.’ 
     ‘Go on,’ prompted Ædra, suddenly apprehensive about what she was going to hear. 
     ‘They wanted money. They told us that we must pay for the privilege of being Christian. They said we must baptize Conrad as a child and...’ 
     ‘As a child?’ Ædra queried. ‘How on earth does Conrad know what he wants to do as a child?’ 
     ‘That’s what we said, but they insisted. We must baptize him and pay dearly for the priviledge. If he isn’t baptized, he will go to hell if he dies, and will suffer everlasting fire and damnation.’ 
     Ædra was shocked. ‘That’s terrible.’ 
     They looked puzzled. ‘But we thought that you said you were with the Church.’ 
     ‘Not with one that pulls that sort of trick, I’m not.’ She smiled at Inga. ‘When I return from Camelot, I am going to establish a proper church here, one that teaches God’s love and forgiveness, not all this hell and damnation stuff.’ 
     ‘Can you do that?’ 
     ‘With God and the King on my side, I can do anything,’ she said with a cheeky grin. 
     Arrangements were then made for provisioning the boat and departure date and Ædra returned to the castle by mid-afternoon then, going to the room she had been allocated, Ædra changed her clothes.


     The Cardinal and the Bishop arrived promptly and were shown to the Multangular Tower where Ædred waited alone. 
     ‘His Excellency Cardinal Broghanzani and the Lord Bishop,’ announced the guard. The King nodded and the two men were shown in. 
     The Cardinal, resplendent in crimson, bowed low before the throne. ‘My Lord King. Thank you for seeing us.’ 
     Ædred gestured for them to rise. ‘Well?’ 
     ‘We come on a matter of great urgency,’ spoke up the Bishop. ‘We feel that you should be aware that a rebellion is planned within your realm. 
     The King’s right eyebrow lifted slightly. ‘Indeed?’ 
     The Bishop cleared his throat and approached him. ‘We have just uncovered a plot whereby a large number of your people are planning to rise up against you. They plan to overthrow your great city and drive you from your rightful throne.’ 
     ‘Is this so? I am very glad that you have informed me of this plot. And who is the man who would dare rise up against Ædred of Deira?’ 
     ‘Not a man, sire.’ He leant closer as if maintaining a confidence. ‘There is an evil witch at Iarum who casts evil spells upon your good, loyal subjects and leads them against you.’ 
     The King smiled. ‘A woman?’ 
     ‘Not an ordinary woman, My Lord King. She has great witchcraft. I hear that her father was a warlock and her mother a sorcerer of great prowess.’ 
     The King said nothing for several moments until, suddenly: ‘And what of the witch’s brother?’ 
     ‘Brother?’ The Cardinal looked at the Bishop. 
     ‘He is not human,’ invented the Bishop on the spur of the moment. ‘I am told that he is half dragon and half..er..donkey.’ 
     ‘Ah, is he now?’ 
     They were interrupted by the guard who announced; ‘Princess Ædra of Northumbria, daughter of King Arthur of Camelot, Ruler of all Britannia and Gaul.’ 
     The Cardinal looked confused as the Bishop’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the beautiful young woman in a sheer white gown which whispered as she entered the room. Her fair hair hung round her shoulders, bounded only by a headband of spun silk and, around her perfect neck, there was a torc of solid gold. 
     The King rose to his feet. ‘Gentlemen, I want you to meet someone whom I love very much indeed - my twin sister.’ 
     If someone had dropped a pin just then, it would have been heard in Londonium. The Bishop went bright red and then a pasty shade of yellow. The Cardinal merely looked confused. 
     ‘My Lord Bishop,’ Ædra greeted with a sweet smile as she held out her hand to him. ‘How nice to see you again so soon. I hope that you had a pleasant journey from Iarum.’ 
     The Bishop tried desperately to move but found he could not and felt sick as his knees began to wobble. He finally managed a bow and dribbled uncontrollably as he kissed her proferred hand. 
     ‘You do look ill, My Lord Bishop. Perhaps you would like to go and lie down for a while.’ Her deep blue eyes seemed to pierce right through him. ‘How about for a thousand years or so?’ 
     ‘I...I...I...’ 
     ‘Are you afraid that I will cast a spell on you? That I will summon up my warlock father and sorceress mother and turn you into a pig?’ Ædra walked around him and enjoyed his discomfort as the Cardinal began to get the message that all was not as he had been informed. She suddenly turned on him and poked him in the stomach. ‘And where are you from?’ 
     Cardinal Emillio Broghanzani held his head high. ‘From Rome, Your Highness.’ 
     ‘There is a boat leaving for there tomorrow. Be on it.’ 
     ‘But...’ he began. 
     Ædra simply glared at him and he soon withered and bowed his head. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’ 
     She looked at the Bishop in disgust. ‘And take this fat, slanderous hypocrite with you or the dragon half of my brother will eat him all up.’ 
     The two clerics backed quickly towards the door, the Cardinal giving the Bishop that “just wait till I get you home” look. 
     The King spoke up as they reached the door. ‘And make sure that all your priests leave, too. We can do without your brand of Christianity here in Ebor. Perhaps in the south they might tolerate such hypocracy but here, in the north, we will not. Good day, gentlemen, and be thankful that I have not had you beheaded for your insolence.’ 
     As the door closed, Princess Ædra moved to her brother’s side.
     ‘That’s the last we’ll see of them,’ he said. ‘I’ll not have them in my kingdom at any price.’ 
     ‘They will return one day, I fear. Maybe not for many years, perhaps hundreds of years, but they will come back and bring their disgusting ways with them.’ 
     ‘Do you really think so?’ he gently stroked her golden hair with his hand. 
     ‘Oh yes. Religion can be a strong force for good, but it can also be misused. I would not be surprised if, sometime in the future, rulers use the Church for their own ends to unite people into doing wrong instead of doing right. In that, they are not so much different to the Picts.’ 
     ‘Are you still determined to go to Camelot?’ 
     She looked up at him. ‘Of course.’ 
     ‘Won’t you stay on, here, in Ebor? With your knowledge of Latin and with Excalibur, you and I could rule all of Europe.’ 
     ‘I fear not, my brother. If Christianity is to be spread, it must be by the word, not by the sword.’ 
     ‘But the Church has tried bribery. It may now try to take more drastic measures to stamp out your teaching. Truth is something the Church does not understand. You are the brood of our father, King Arthur, born first of us both. If you were to just say the word, the tribal kings would rally to your side and we will drive the barbarians from the land.’ 
     ‘But you, too, are of King Arthur. They would follow you.’ 
     ‘Not in the same way, Ædra. The people of Ebor follow me because I am King here. But it was not I who defeated the Picts, it was really you. The whole of Britannia would follow you to the death if you would lead them.’ 
     ‘No, my dear, dear brother. You know I am not happy at Court. I am far more at home with the common people and the children. Besides, the Church will not send an army. Not yet.’ 
     ‘Then perhaps an assassin. If you were here, in the city, I could protect you.’ 
     ‘I could not be closeted here for ever. How could I teach the people if I am under armed escort everywhere I go? The Church of Rome tried building a church and waiting for people to come to them. It didn’t work. To spread Christianity, we must go to the people, teach them in the towns and villages of Angland. We will succeed, we must succeed.’ 
     ‘I wish I had your faith, little sister.’ The King stood up and rested his arms on his Ædra’s shoulders. ‘I will let you go on one condition.’ 
     ‘And what is that?’ 
     ‘Promise me first.’ 
     ‘I trust you. I promise.’ 
     ‘Take Excalibur. May it protect you wherever you go.’ 
     ‘What would I do with Excalibur?’ 
     ‘Use it only as a last resort and only for defence. If you find you have no need of it, throw it back into the creek at Glastunburgh. It must not fall into the wrong hands.’ 
     She smiled her agreement. ‘I will do that, my brother.’ 

TWELVE

     It was going to be at least a week before the boat Karl had arranged could be provisioned and a crew found, so Ædra spent her time mingling with the people of the city, teaching and helping to care for the ever-increasing number of men, women and children who were coming down with the plague. Tirelessly, she slaved for them on their boats and in their homes while her brother provided what other assistance that he could. The Britons came to fear this contagious disease which could wipe out whole families in a matter of weeks and the matter came to a head one day when Ædred was confronted by one of the druids. 
     ‘It is the Anglisc,’ he accused. ‘They are bringing death into our country. We must drive them away before it is too late.’ 
     ‘My Lord Khana, I will not hear of it. They have been driven from their homes by the Huns, they have nowhere else to go but here.’ 
     ‘My Lord King, with respect, you are biased, being Anglisc yourself.’ 
     Ædred stood up from his throne, anger rising within him as he stepped forward while the druid stood, defiant, before him. ‘I will forget that you said that. I am Ædred, son of King Arthur of Camelot and am as much British as I am Anglisc. We are doing what we can. Why, my own sister is working day and night in an effort to prevent the spread of the plague, constantly risking her own life and health among them. Don’t you dare come in here with your accusations of prejudice.’ 
     ‘My Lord King,’ the druid backed down. ‘I mean no offence. It is Lord Bel who is angry because we have offered no human sacrifice this year.’ 
     ‘There will be no sacrifice. I have forbidden it.’ 
     ‘Do you intend to force this Christianity upon your people?’ 
     ‘Not in the least, my Lord Khana. I have not iterfered in any way with the other aspects of your worship. We merely teach and explain, so that the people can then choose their way of worship. It is simply in the matter of sacrifice where I must put my foot down. Princess Ædra proved at Eccles Cliff that human sacrifice is not needed for prosperity.’ 
     ‘I warn you, Sire. The people will not stand for it indefinitely. If there is no letup in this dreadful plague, the Britons will rise up and drive the Anglisc back into the sea and I will be powerless to prevent it.’

     Ædra had had enough. Scarcely able to stand, she stumbled from the waterfront, along the narrow street to Ebor itself and into the small church, falling to her knees with tears of frustration streaming down her face, pale and drawn from hard work and lack of sleep. Her clothes were filthy and hair matted and dirty from her toils which now were beginning to seem pointless. There was no halt to the plague which was now claiming dozens of victims every day. Her shoulders shuddered from her tears as she kneeled, head in her hands, on the cold, stone floor. 
     ‘Help me, Lord,’ she pleaded. ‘Show me how to help these poor people. I have done your will but can no longer go on alone. Please hear me now.’ 
     She pleaded and cried for a further hour before she found she was not alone. Turning her head, she saw the big Gann behind her, also on his knees. She smiled to him, started to get up, then collapsed into his arms, her face beginning to turn yellow with the first tinges of a plague which showed no mercy whatsoever and left very few survivors.


     She would have no healer, insisting that their time was better spent on the waterfront where people were dying every minute. Ædred watched as his sister lay on the bed, listless and lifeless, as Carra bathed her skin carefully, bravely risking her own life and that of her unborn child with every passing hour. 
     He had wanted to use the power but Ædra had refused, saying that her life was now in God’s hands; if he wanted her to go to Camelot, she would live. Ædred stood by, helplessly, as her health gradually deteriorated and then, a week later, she went into a cold coma. With tears in his eyes and with anger and frustration in his heart, he returned to the Great Hall where he found the chief druid awaiting him. 
     ‘My Lord King,’ greeted the Khana. ‘Now will you act? Your own sister lays at death’s door because of these cursed Anglisc. You must drive them out and you must do it now, before this plague kills us all.’ 
     ‘My Lord Khana, I appreciate your interest and concern in the matter but I cannot allow it.’ He took out his anger on the table with his fist. ‘The Anglisc will not be driven away and there will be no human sacrifice and that is final.’ 
     ‘Then I regret to say that there will be war.’ 
     There was a shocked silence for several minutes as druidic leader and king confronted one another across the table. 
     ‘Rats,’ said the little voice from the doorway. 
     Both heads turned as Ædra staggered into the room and sat down heavily on the stone window ledge, her long nightgown soaked and stained with sweat and blood. 
     The druid pulled the cloak over his face and backed away while the King rushed to his sister’s side. She began to laugh. Ædred was on his knees before her, holding her hands in his, oblivious to the danger. ‘What do you mean, Ædra?’ 
     She looked up at the terrified druid. ‘It is not the Anglisc who are to blame, my Lord Khana. They have just been the innocent vehicles for the plague and have, themselves, paid very heavily for it.’ 
     ‘What are you saying?’ he asked suspiciously. 
     ‘Rats,’ she said again. 
     ‘Rats?’ 
     ‘Yes. They are the carriers. They board the trade ships at Constantinople and Alexandria and are carried into the Bleak Sea by them and up the Danu River. The goods are picked up by the Huns who then carry the rats in their supply wagons into the Rhenus Valley and invade the lands of the Anglisc who unwittingly carry them as they flee in their boats.’ 
     ‘You mean to tell me that all this death is caused by those little furry creatures in the holds of the boats?’ 
     ‘Precisely.’ 
     ‘But there are thousands of them,’ he said with despair. ‘There is no ship afloat which does not carry rats in its hold.’ 
     ‘Then we must prevent them landing. The Lord has shown me what to do.’ 
     The druid smirked a little. ‘And what is this answer?’ 
     ‘Quarantine.’ 
     ‘And what, might I ask, is that?’ 
     ‘You should read the Book, my Lord Khana, it would do you a lot of good. In it, God gave the prophet Moses specific instructions on how to deal with the plague.’ 
     ‘And what are these instructions?’ 
     ‘The victims were isolated from the main body of people until they were cured and were not allowed to mix with the population at any time.’ 
     ‘And if they died?’ 
     ‘If they died, no-one was allowed to touch them.’ 
     ‘How does that help us now, Ædra?’ asked her brother. 
     ‘We must do the same. As the boats arrive, they must be kept offshore, away from the land. Only the fit and well must be allowed ashore into the towns. The others must be kept separate until they are either cured or have died. It seems that the plague never strikes a person twice so only those who have already had it will be allowed near the sick to care for them.’ 
     ‘And the rats?’ 
     ‘The boats must not, under any circumstances, be allowed to berth nor any goods or supplies unloaded from them. They must be towed out to sea and burned.’ 
     ‘Burned?’ said the alarmed druid. ‘But these boats are very valuable.’ 
     ‘What is of the most value, my Lord Khana? Boats or lives?’ 
     He looked down. 
     ‘I’ll need help,’ said King Ædred. ‘I need a man who will be meticulous in carrying out Princess Ædra’s instructions; someone who will show no pity when separating families who have the plague but who will have mercy when dealing with the sick and, most of all, I need someone that I can trust implicitly to see that every single Anglisc boat is burned at sea.’ 
     The druid drew back his shoulders. ‘My Lord King. You can trust me to do that.’ 
     The King smiled then reached out and placed his hand upon the druid’s shoulder. ‘My Lord Khana, I do believe I can.’


     Ædra recovered gradually over the next few days due to Carra’s unwavering devotion and unceasing labour. Little could be done to help the poor souls already infected in the town except to isolate wherever possible and ensure that no more rats were allowed to get ashore. 
     There had been some doubts as to whether it was the rats themselves who were to blame or whether they carried the plague by some other method. Nevertheless, as the evenings gradually drew in, it became obvious that the measures they had taken had been the right ones. The new cases of the plague gradually diminished until it had all but been eradicated from Ebor. On Ædred’s command, similar instructions were issued to Portrack and royal messengers sent southwards with appropriate advice to Kings of the other coastal kingdoms and ports to act upon as they wished. 
     It was a month before Carra pronounced Ædra fit and strong enough to undertake the long and hazardous journey to Camelot. There was no sadness as she stood that morning, with Karl, Gann and the other sailors, in the long boat which would sail around the coast of Lindumsey and Cant on its way to the place where only uncertainty awaited her. 
     ‘Take good care of her, Gann,’ said the King. 
     ‘I will, Ædred. I will guard her with my life. She has become very special to me, too.’ He looked down and the young girl smiled up at her uncle, her Book clutched tightly in her arms. 
     Ædred held out his hands and gave Gann the long, heavy sack which he had carried from the castle. 
     ‘Ædra will know what to do with that,’ he said at Gann’s puzzled expression. He looked at Ædra. ‘God go with you, my little sister.’ 
     The boat pulled away from the dockside as the crew hauled on the oars to propel the boat down the Eause on the first leg of its long journey. Ædred waved as Carra held up her new-born daughter high in the air as Ælle hung onto her skirts and smiled. Gann raised his arm in salute as Ædra shouted, ‘I love you, Ædred.’


     The wharfeside was lined with hundreds of people as they drifted through the lower city. Briton and Angle alike cheered and tears of joy ran down Ædra’s face as she saw the power of unity displayed before her very eyes. Despite very different customs and the prejudices of generations, the people of Deira were learning to live together in peace and she was proud to have been able to have a share in the work of bringing it about. There was still plenty of work to be done but that would have to wait for the time being. She had a mission that would wait no longer and she wished for more speed as they drifted slowly downstream and the sun shone brightly that fine, spring morning. The last remaining birds sang in the trees lining the river and, by mid-day, they were able to raise the sail as the river turned eastwards towards the sea. 
     Ædra grew excited as the river gradually widened until, by late afternoon, they were moored at a little port on the north side of the river. Out on the water, she could see the fires of burning ships and she smiled as she thought of the lives which would be saved by such action. 
     She visited the town that evening and taught the word to many of the refugees accommodated in rough huts along the River Hull and, without hesitation, she plunged right into the quarantine area and spoke to many of the sick concerning the hope of the future resurrection about which Jesus had taught. She spent the whole night preaching and teaching the sick and needy and a small centre for worship was set up at the edge of the town. 
     The next day, she was so exhausted that she slept in the bottom of the boat as they sailed out into the estuary, rounded the marshy headland and so out onto the Norsey.


     For three days and three nights, they sailed southwards, keeping about a mile offshore. Bad weather kept them in Bostun Haven for several days and Ædra took the opportunity to walk into the town and talk to the people there about her hope. Her youthful enthusiasm was infectious as she spoke to both Briton and Angle about God and Christ and made many new friends. 
     For the next week, they headed around the land where the Iceni were dominant except for small communities of Anglisc living on the banks of the many river estuaries along the coast. The weather grew warmer as they travelled into April, stopping where necessary for fresh water and provisions at the little Anglisc communities. 
     It was a freak storm which drove them into one of the larger river estuaries to shelter near the old city that the Romans had called Durobrivas and the Celts now named Rochecæstra, the castle on the rock. The storm raged for several days and Ædra took the opportunity to visit the town despite the incessant rain which fell out of the overcast sky. 
     There was already a small community there professing Christ and it was while she was reasoning with them from the Book that the men came for her. There were four of them and, separated from Gann because of work being done on the boat, she was dragged from the room where she was teaching, bound hand and foot and bundled roughly into a wooden cart. 
     The journey to Cantiburgh was a long one and she was sore all over by the time the city walls were in sight. Dragged from the cart, she was then carried through the door to the Bishop’s Palace and literally thrown at his feet. 
     ‘So, my Princess, we meet again at last,’ he said with an evil smile on his face. ‘Get up.’ 
     She could not move, so one of the guards “helped” her with the toe of his boot in her stomach, causing her to gasp with pain. She struggled to her knees, not easy when bound hand and foot, and glared up at the Bishop. 
     ‘Well,’ he said. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure. For me, that is.’ 
     He turned to his colleague, dressed in red. ‘You remember the little witch who humiliated us in Ebor? She seems to have flown here on her broomstick, straight into our arms. We shall have fun.’ 
     ‘Fun?’ she managed to get out. 
     ‘Oh, yes. You don’t know do you? We are right in the middle of our herasy trials and, as luck would have it, we now have our very own centre piece.’ 
     He turned. ‘Guards, take her away. In the morning, strip her naked and hang her by the wrists in the in the gateway. Don’t string her too high. I want the good Christian people here to be able to express, in the ways they know best, just how we feel about witches here in Cant.’ 
     ‘What do we do with her until morning?’ the guard was dumb enough to ask. 
     The Bishop smiled. ‘Use your imagination.’ 
     ‘You do realise what they will do to her, don’t you?’ asked the Cardinal when she had been taken away. 
     ‘Of course I do. You know how it works, surely. There are almost a hundred men in the barracks who will use and abuse her all night. If she is still alive by morning, they will string her up as I have instructed. If by some faint mischance, she then manages to last out a day’s whipping and beating from the crowd, then she must be guilty of witchcraft and will be burned alive to deter other heretics. If she dies somewhere along the way, as surely she must, then, alas, the poor girl must have been innocent after all.’ 
     ‘As long as you know what you are doing.’ 
     ‘Oh, yes. I know precisely what I am doing. Now, if you will excuse me, Your Emminence, I must have a word with the guard to ensure that she does not die too quickly.’


     Ædra felt deep shame as she stood in the middle of the room with all those guards watching and ogling her. 
     ‘She is little more than a child,’ said one with empathy. 
     ‘Have you got something against virgins?’ taunted another, undisguised lust in his eyes. 
     ‘Who gets her first?’ said a third, licking his lips. 
     ‘Pity she’s so skinny,’ said another as he reached out towards her. She squirmed away and they all laughed. 
     ‘If you touch me, I will kill you all,’ she threatened, her eyes gradually turning deep blue. 
     ‘Oh, one with spirit,’ declared one. ‘I like that.’ 
     He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her to him then cried out as he let go of her, nursing his hand. 
     ‘What happened?’ said his colleague. 
     ‘She bit me.’ 
     ‘The little witch. Okay fellers, let’s have some fun.’ 
     Ædra looked around frantically and then saw the long sack in the corner beside her square bag. She moved very quickly and, before they could move, Excalibur was in her hands, sparkling in the dim light. She crouched like a leopard about to spring, her eyes shining, and turned slowly, holding the sword two-handedly in front of her and none dare approach that blade which seemed to glow in her hands. 
     They backed away as she circled and walked in her bare feet towards the door. One tried to be a hero and narrowly missed losing an arm and head as the blade scythed round in a deadly arc. There was silence as she backed out of the room and towards the Bishop’s chambers. 
     The Bishop shivered as a draught from the door made the candle on his desk flicker. He looked up from his writing and saw the sword point mere inches from his face. His eyes followed the blade to the hilt, up the suntanned arms and shoulders until they rested on her eyes. He opened his mouth to shout. 
     He did not see the blade move as Excalibur flashed down and almost split the solid oak desk in half. A croaking noise came from his throat as he attempted to stand. 
     ‘My brother warned you,’ she said quietly. 
     ‘But...’ he backed away and she followed, cat like, until he was up against the wall, the tip of Excalibur almost touching the end of his nose. 
     ‘You didn’t go as he commanded. Now you must pay the penalty.’ 
     ‘P..p..penalty?’ 
     ‘Death,’ she whispered. 
     ‘I’ll give you money,’ he offered. 
     ‘Bribery again, my Lord Bishop? Is that all you know about, bribery and corruption? Is that what they teach you at Episcopal Law School?’ 
     ‘I...I...’ 
     ‘On your knees,’ she instructed and he obeyed without hesitation. 
     At that moment, three guards burst in and the Bishop smiled and looked as if to rise in triumph. Ædra turned her head and just looked at them as they stood, as if paralysed, in the doorway. The Bishop’s smile died on his lips as Ædra turned to face him again. 
     ‘You...you really are a witch,’ he whispered hoarsely. 
     She smiled. ‘Did you ever doubt it?’ 
     ‘You are going to kill me,’ he managed to blurt out as more of a statement of fact than a question. 
     ‘Naturally.’ 
     The curtain at the door moved again as the Cardinal entered. He took in the situation at one glance and stepped slowly towards the girl. 
     ‘Spare him, Princess,’ he pleaded softly. ‘I beg of you, do not commit this grave sin.’ 
     ‘You disobeyed my brother,’ she stated, matter-of-factly. 
     ‘But...’ he reached out his hand towards her and nearly lost several fingers. He drew back his hand quickly and stared at her. ‘This is not God’s way, my child.’ 
     ‘That sounds odd, coming from you. What do you know of God’s way?’ 
     ‘My child, you were right at Ebor. We have a lot to learn and perhaps, one day, we will get it right.’ 
     ‘I doubt it with men like this in your Church.’ She looked at the Bishop, quivering on his knees. 
     ‘I ask you again, spare him. I entreat you in the name of God.’ 
     She whirled on him then. ‘What is the name of God?’ 
     He didn’t answer. 
     She sneered then. ‘You don’t even know what God’s name is, do you?’ 
     ‘Well...’ 
     ‘I thought not. I suggest that you read the Book a bit more instead of learning to quote this Episcopal Law.’ 
     ‘Princess, I offer you a canonistion if you spare us.’ 
     ‘Bribery again?’ 
     ‘Not this time.’ He sat down. ‘You are right. We have a lot to learn. Perhaps we have been too hasty in condemning those who do not wholeheartedly agree with our doctrines. 
     ‘Tell that to the “heretics” you murdered yesterday.’ 
     ‘My daughter, I forgive you for your actions today.’ 
     ‘You? Forgive me?’ She was incredulous. 
     ‘Perhaps we can work something out together.’ 
     ‘How can we do that?’ 
     He looked up at her. ‘We can at least talk.’ 
     The blade of Excalibur dropped a little and the Bishop began to breathe again. 
     Ædra turned to face the Cardinal. ‘Yes, we can do that.’ 
     ‘Guards,’ he said and Ædra stiffened. 
     ‘Leave us,’ he commanded. They hesitated but then left, utterly confused by the events of the last hour. 
     Ædra stood in the middle of the room whilst the Cardinal talked of many things, some of them sensible and, eventually, Ædra relaxed. It was a mistake. 
     As he finished speaking, she felt a tremendous pain in her back as the Bishop plunged his long-bladed knife into her from behind. Her eyes went wide open and she cried out in agony as he sadistically twisted the blade inside her and laughed aloud as the Cardinal’s face turned to a mask of horror. 

THIRTEEN

     Things then started to happen so fast that Ædra scarcely knew what was going on. She was in agony as she was pushed violently from behind and it felt as though all of her hair had been ripped out by the roots. Her arms gave way under her own weight and her face hit the hard stone floor, causing stars to swim around in her head as she lay, face down, looking at the fast-growing pool of blood right in front of her eyes. 
     She was dying and she knew it, but could not move because of the great pressure which held her down and brought tremendous pain to her back and legs. There was noise, frantic struggling and sounds she neither understood nor had the power to control. 
     Fighting not to lose consciousness, she suddenly felt the weight disappear from her legs and she was being lifted from the floor as the darkness finally overcame her.

     Her eyes opened slowly and it was quiet. She tried to move her head but could not and just looked up at the carved ceiling above her. There was no pain, just a stiffness preventing all movement. A hand touched hers and a friendly feminine face smiled from beneath a grey hood. 
     ‘Rest, my child,’ said the gentle voice. ‘It’s all over now.’ 
     ‘Where am I?’ 
     ‘At Rochecæstra, waiting for your uncle to collect you.’ 
     ‘How did I get here?’ 
     ‘The Cardinal had you brought here in his carriage.’ 
     ‘What happened?’ 
     ‘Don’t you know?’ 
     Ædra shook her head a little and winced at the sudden pain. 
     ‘You are a very lucky young lady, do you know that? The Bishop’s blade just missed the main artery in your back. Another half an inch either way and we would have buried you by now.’ 
     ‘Am I hurt badly?’ 
     ‘Your liver is ruptured and one of your kidneys damaged as well as losing a great deal of blood. You will have considerable pain for a very long time but, by God’s grace, you will live.’ 
     ‘The Bishop?’ 
     The woman shook her head. 
     ‘The Cardinal?’ 
     She reached out to the bedside table. ‘He left you these,’ she said and held up Ædra’s Book, Excalibur and a letter. ‘Can you read?’ 
     ‘Yes,’ said Ædra, ‘But would you read it to me?’ 
     ‘Of course.’ The nurse sat down on the edge of the bed and began:

My Dear Princess Ædra
It is with deep regret that I must say goodbye to you in this way, but the boat to Rome would wait for me no longer. You are right, the Church is not yet ready to take on the task of converting the masses in Britannia and it still has a lot to learn from honest people like yourself.

I seriously hope that you do not believe that all churchmen are like the Bishop. However, since his unfortunate fatal accident, there is no longer any serious rival to your teaching in Britannia. Please put the time that you have to good use before other, corrupt men see the opportunties for power.

I go now to plead your cause with the Holy Father, though I am not confident of receiving a hearing ear - the Church is not yet ready for truth. One day, perhaps, the truth will become known again. I certainly hope so.

Now that I cannot be accused of bribery, I offer you the only thing left within my power to grant you and hope and pray that you will use it well. When you are able, read the inscription in your Book beneath that of our dear Brother John. I wish you God’s spirit and blessing.

Your Brother in the service of God,

        Cardinal Emilio Broghanzani.


     There were tears in Ædra’s eyes as the woman finished reading the letter and begged her to rest. Her eyes kept straying to the Book as she was tucked in but she had neither strength nor inclination to read just then. 
     ‘How did the Bishop die?’ she asked instead. 
     ‘There are a good many stories, highness. Some say that he stabbed himself by mistake, others that the Cardinal killed him. There is even a ridiculous rumour going round that he was beheaded by some kind of flying sword. There is so much confusion that I don’t suppose we will ever get to know.’ 
     Ædra smiled to herself. ‘No, I don’t suppose we will.’

     Gann arrived that evening and arranged for Ædra’s transfer to the boat. Despite warnings from the kindly lady healer of possible complications, she had insisted on an immediate departure. 
     The motion of the boat was soothing after the short carriage ride and Ædra lay, listening to the waves and gulls, as they set sail into the Channel. They rounded the headland of Cant by mid-November and their boat seemed to fly along the south coast as the South-Easterly wind filled the big sail. By the last few days in the month, Ædra’s heart was beating frantically as they sailed regally up the wide river estuary towards the castle at Camelot.


     The knights sat at the round table in sadness. Sir Brian looked twice his forty years and Sir Dinaden much more than his sixty-eight. 
     ‘Is there nothing more to be done?’ 
     ‘No, Sir Tristram, we are a doomed race. There are but thirty of us left in the city.’ 
     ‘A good sacrifice toworrow will stop the curse,’ said the one with the long gown. 
     ‘Haven’t you done enough damage? There are barely any children left in Camelot due to your constant sacrifices. And where has it got us, I ask? Nowhere. There will be no more human sacrifices in this city.’ 
     ‘But...’ 
     ‘None,’ the veteran knight declared, standing and facing them all. 
     ‘Perhaps if we had treated the young Princess more kindly...’ 
     ‘Yes, perhaps. She was our last hope to gain peace with the Anglisc. Now, we are completely at their mercy. There are but a handful of us left and, if they invade now, we will have no alternative but to surrender to their mercies.’ 
     The discussion was interrupted by a small boy who ran in, breathless. 
     ‘My Lord Knights, it is the Anglisc. They are invading.’ 
     ‘Calm down, boy,’ said Sir Dinaden. ‘Explain what you mean.’ 
     ‘They are sailing up the river, your lordships, in their long ship. The leader is a giant over ten foot tall with yellow hair and his woman stands beside him.’ 
     The senior knight looked at his colleagues. ‘What choice do we have?’ 
     ‘None,’ they agreed.


     The boat turned the bend in the river and there it was ahead of them, Camelot. The sun shone down of the lofty battlements of the city which had, in the days of Ædra’s father, King Arthur, controlled much of the island of Britannia. As the boat neared the bank, a strange sight greeted Ædra as she stood beside Gann. A procession of about thirty people began to come out of the main gate and down the slope towards them. 
     ‘They are sending a delegation to meet us,’ said Gann. 
     ‘A rather large group for a greeting,’ said Ædra. ‘Are they armed?’ 
     Gann shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare. ‘Not heavily. One or two carry swords but they wear no armour. Maybe they come in peace.’ 
     ‘Perhaps so, Gann.’ She turned to the boatmen. ‘Can you get us to the side, Karl?’ 
     ‘Of course, Princess.’ 
     The boat nudged the bank and, immediately, Ædra stepped onto the soil of Britannia once more. The people advanced as Ædra stepped forward, alone, to meet them. 
     ‘Princess Ædra,’ said Sir Dinaden, recognising her instantly and dropping to his knee. ‘Welcome to Camelot.’ 
     Ædra stepped up to him and placed her small hand on his head as the knight laid his great sword at her feet. Tears came to her eyes as all the knights followed suit in the traditional demonstration of submission. Suddenly, Ædra saw a face she knew so well. 
     ‘Moryna,’ she cried, hugging the midwife who had saved her life often and had arranged the upbringing of her brother. They held each other tightly for some time until Moryna suddenly stiffened, took her hand from around Ædra’s back and looked at the blood which covered it. She opened her mouth to speak but Gann was there, sweeping his niece into his arms with one quick movement. 
     ‘The castle, quickly,’ instructed Moryna and Gann carried her through the gateway where, eighteen years ago, Princess Rowena of Hengist had died. Laying Ædra down on the big bed where the King had died, Gann stood back to allow Moryna to look at the wound in her back. The midwife cried when she saw the extent of the damage. 
     ‘Who did this?’ she asked and Gann began to explain while Moryna attempted to stem the flow of blood caused by the over-exertion of the journey. 
     The midwife worked for hours, caring for her Princess while the last few inhabitants of Camelot waited with baited breath. It took a long time for her to recover but, gradually, she did. Although she recovered, the young Princess was bedbound for several weeks and she used the time wisely. Many who came to her bedside learned the truth about God and Christ and accepted it while others offered their lives in her service. In the end, it was Sir Dinaden who came to see her. ‘I bring you your book, Princess. Gann said you must read it now as the Cardinal instructed.’ 
     The inscription. She had forgotten the Cardinal’s inscription. Now as they all waited, she opened the first page. A tear came to her eye and dripped onto the coarse paper as she read and the knights waited patiently. Under the writing of Brother John was a short paragraph in a sloping hand and dark ink. It read:


By Order and Sanctification of the Church of Christ, Gloria in Excelsis to the Lord God and Sainte Ædra.
     Cardinal Emilio Broghanzani.

     N.B. This honour is granted on the condition that you never, ever, let anyone change you.

     E.B.


     ‘I also have this,’ said Sir Dinaden, showing her a document inside the cover. It was an affirmation from all the tribal kings of Britannia, declaring her to be “Ædra of Camelot, Queen of all Britannia and Gaul.” 
     Over the next few weeks, they brought gifts and paid homage and, as her health improved, she began to get about the city once more. It was a month before she was able to leave the city and make her way, alone, to the great Tor where she knelt in prayer. 
     ‘Lord, help me,’ she prayed with head bowed. ‘I have wronged these good people and now seek your assistance in righting that wrong. I also need a sign. Am I doing the right thing in fighting the Church? If I am, then show me, reverse the curse I placed on Camelot, help me to save these good people who have shown that they have repented of their sins against me and my mother.’ 
     ‘I have also sinned,’ she admitted. ‘Instead of relying on you, I used the sword to defend myself. It was wrong of me and I beg your forgiveness. Help me to to have the faith I lack.’ 
     Ædra continued to pray for many hours and it was Gann and Moryna who found her as the sun began to go down. 
     ‘You must tell the people to plant all their seed this spring,’ she said. ‘This year they will have a fine crop.’ 
     ‘They will be reluctant to risk it all, Princess,’ said Moryna. ‘After so many bad crops.’ 
     ‘Tell them to trust me and the Lord God,’ said the smiling Princess and Gann and Moryna looked at each other.

     ‘We must do as Princess Ædra instructed,’ insisted Gann at the meeting with the knights. ‘She has promised that the crop will not fail.’ 
     ‘It will not be easy to convince the people,’ said Sir Tristram. 
     ‘They will obey if we give the word.’ 
     ‘Then we have no choice,’ said Sir Dinaden. ‘We have to trust her. However, if she is wrong...’ 
     ‘I trust her,’ said Moryna with her hand on her belly. 
     ‘You mean...?’ 
     ‘I am expecting a baby, yes.’ 
     ‘You do ralise the consequences, Moryna? No mother has given birth in four years and, of those that tried, few have survived themselves. You are risking your life by what you are doing.’ 
     ‘I trust the Princess. As soon as she made her promise, Gann and I committed ourselves. At our age, we have nothing to lose but, if Ædra is right, everything to gain.’ 
     The knights consulted and, the same afternoon, a proclamation was made. The remaining people worked hard over the next few days, tilling and planting until all the seed was used up. It was now up to Ædra and her God. 
     Was it going to work? Or was the curse to be a permanent one? The weeks seemed to creep by until, early in May, the first ears began to push through the ground. Some of the people rejoiced, others were more reserved, fearing a flood or drought which could just as easily destroy the crops. 
     The weeks turned to months and the rain and sun played their part in producing a bumper crop which covered the flat slopes of the valley bottom. It was approaching Autumn before they were really sure, when Moryna went into labour and, eventually with Ædra’s help, gave birth to a fine baby girl. It was then that the Princess knew that time had come for her to leave Camelot and return to Ebor. 
     There was work to be done, of that she was certain. God had given her a sign, she must fight the Church with its corrupt teachings. All its adherants might not be corrupt, but the few that weren’t, like the Cardinal, stood out from the others. It would not be an easy task for her. 
     The birth of Moryna’s baby, Daryl, had brought a complete change to Camelot. Soon, the city would again be full of the cries of young children playing in the courtyard and in the streets and, in time, Camelot would be a great city once more. The people were happy and content now that there had been a complete reversal of the Curse of King Arthur’s Brood. 

EPILOGUE

     The slim, fair-haired maiden stood beside the giant as the soft breeze ruffled the surface of the creek. Ahead of them, the red disc of the sun was just touching the top of the distant Quantocks. The girl reached up her small hand and placed it in the mighty grip of the man who caressed it gently as a flock of geese flew overhead with a great flapping of wings. 
     ‘It is time,’ said the maiden. 
     The giant nodded, lifted the sack and removed from it the long sword which glittered in the red glow from the setting sun as he raised it high above his head. 
     He looked at the girl who nodded. With a mighty throw, the giant hurled the sword high into the air. As if in slow motion, it turned over and over until it reached the zenith of its trajectory, whereupon it fell, point first, into the creek without raising a ripple. As it vanished, a cold east wind blew for a moment, causing the girl to shiver as she pulled her cloak tighter around her frail body. 
     Frogs croaked around the creek as the sun dipped, until only half was visible. In the morning, the girl would be leaving Camelot and would return in the boat that had brought her, to Ebor. After spending the winter there with her brother and his family, she would go home. Here, in Camelot, she had been hailed as both Queen and Saint. In Iarum, she was just a simple teacher and a friend to everyone and she knew where she would prefer to be. 
     Once more, she took hold of the hand of the giant whom she had appointed as King in her place. He would be happy here with his new wife and baby daughter. She thought back for a moment on those short, eighteen years of her life which, at times, had seemed like an eternity and wondered, if things had been different, whether she would have been happy. She decided that she would not. 
     The damaged muscles and organs in her back would prevent too much excitement for a while but, everyone knew, there would be no keeping down for long this unstoppable bundle of dynamic energy. Soon, she would be back on the road, teaching the Word of God. 
     Ædra knew that she did not have much time. The Cardinal, despite his sincerity, would fail in his bid to turn aside a Church already too far down the road to corruption and, soon, other men would be sent, along with their greed and lies, to undo all that she had so far accomplished. But that was not going to deter her. 
     With the disposal of Excalibur, she no longer had any power except that from God. She had felt compelled to fall back on its use at Cantiburgh but, if she was to succeed, she must now rely totally upon Him. Getting rid of the sword was a bold step to have taken and a step, she knew for an absolute certainty, which would one day cost her her life. 
     The top edge of the sun passed below the hills as she looked up at the man who smiled down at her. Tomorrow, she would be going north, out of his life forever. Or would she? Who knows? Nothing is for ever any more.