King Arthur - 03 - The Return Of King Arthur's Brood
Lee Edgar


- Prologue -

     The afternoon sun was very warm as the young woman with the golden hair worked her way along the line of vines. Occasionally, she would stop and wipe the perspiration from her face and listen to the sounds around her. Nearby, birds were singing lazily in the dark forest which bordered the northern edge of the vineyard and, in the far distance, she could also hear the sounds of hammering which indicated that her loving husband was busy repairing the roof on the west wing of their tall chateau built into the rock face overhanging the river. Millennia before, some great force had cleft the mountain apart and produced this corner of Gaul that was paradise. 
     Beroic had been her home for over a year and she loved the sun, the peace and her family. Her mother-in-law, Lady Elaine, was no longer young and would spend most of her time in the terraced gardens which sloped right down to the sparkling blue water while her maid, Marie, kept a close eye on her. Ædra smiled as she glanced at her young son playing on the silvery sand alongside the shallow stream which trickled out of the forest. She was very happy. 
     It was the sudden silence which caused her to become very still. The birds had stopped singing. The faint noise of hammering was still there, as was the gentle trickle of water over the yellow, schistose rocks which gave the area its unevenness. Slowly, she turned her head, listening for any strange sound: but there was nothing. Then cautiously, like a stalking cat, she edged her way towards where her young child played in the water. 
     Somewhere ahead, a twig snapped and she froze in mid-step, the bow slipping from around her shoulders with barely a sound. She could no longer see her two-year-old son, but could hear his faint giggles as small fish swam around his bare feet immersed in the cool water. Her fingers silently fitted the shallow notch of the arrow over the waxed cord and the string tightened slightly as her bare arm drew back. 
     Things then happened very quickly. There was a great crashing in the undergrowth and the sound of her child, frightened. 
     ‘M’aidez,’ Paulinus called as he fell into the stream in an effort to get away. ‘M’aidez, Maman.’ 
     Ædra ran to the end of the row of vines and looked toward her child and also at the giant brown bear which was raising itself onto its hind legs, looking down at the juicy dinner soon to satisfy its hungry cubs. Ædra stopped ten yards from the creature, its tongue panting against yellow teeth in the blazing heat of the day. 
     ‘Allez, Brutus,’ she called to the animal softly but firmly. Ædra was a mother herself and knew what it was like to have a child in need of feeding. However, if her own young cub was the only food available today, the bear’s cubs were going to remain hungry. 
     The bear still hesitated and Ædra’s bare feet made no sound as they stepped carefully towards the sand. 
     ‘Venez-ici, m’enfant,’ she whispered to Paulinus and the child started to scurry towards her. Afraid that quick movement would startle the hunter, she added sharply; ‘Lentement!’ 
     The bear’s eyes left hers and the animal watched as the lunch it had come so low to collect widened the gap between them. With a mighty roar, it threw caution to the wind and splashed into the stream as the bowstring tightened. 
     ‘Allez!’ Ædra shouted once more in a vain attempt to enforce her human superiority. 
     Had the bear been alone, it may have returned to the mountain where it belonged instead of risking making a two-legged enemy, but times were hard and this defiant human was a weak female of the breed, skinny and likely tough to chew. 
     Not ten feet separated them when Ædra opened her right hand. The arrow was made of seasoned beechwood fitted with an iron tip which did not hesitate as it ripped through the tough, furry hide of the creature’s chest. The bear stopped as if hit by a stone wall and stared at the second shaft already fitted to the taught string, the sharp tip pointing straight between its eyes. 
     Paulinus whimpered quietly as the blood started to trickle from the animal’s raptured heart and became matted in its fur. With a last, desperate lust for revenge, it rushed forward, straight into the path of the second arrow. There was a mighty splash as the bear fell into the water, causing a red-streaked wave to surge down the stream. 
     Ædra bent down and, with her right arm, scooped her son from the ground and cuddled him to her breast as she stared, sorrowfully, at the magnificent creature which had dared, in its desperation for food, to cross the invisible boundary. 
     With sadness, Ædra thought of the young cubs awaiting their mother’s return with exited anticipation–cubs who would now, because of her defensive action, go hungry tonight and, perhaps, for ever. Dropping the young child to his feet, she looked towards her home at the edge of the vineyard. 
     ‘Allez en Marie,’ she instructed and watched her son waddle off towards the chateau where the housekeeper would be looking out for their return. Ædra’s blue eyes followed the child’s progress until she deemed him safe and then she turned towards the thick, uninviting forest on the far side of the stream. Slipping the bow over her shoulders, she stepped into the refreshingly cool water and began to climb the wet rocks into the deep darkness. 
     Instantly, he was in another world, a domain where no human feet had ever trodden before. The demarcation had been violated and now she must make her peace with the nature which had invaded her realm. 
     Ædra parted the leaves in front of her, her feet making no warning sound as she crept up the stream bed, the cool breeze from the mountain whispering through the otherwise still woodlands. Ahead, the forest was lighter where the sun beamed down in long shafts to illuminate the stream where it trickled through a small clearing. It was there she found the cubs. 
     She sniffed the air cautiously as she had learned to do and the odour was distinctly one of the animal kingdom. A smile came to her lips as she sat down on a rock in the darkness, watching them play and frolic as they waited for the food their dead mother would never bring them. It was a sense of fairness that had brought Ædra here. She had not just killed the attacker of the child, she had also taken away the only means of sustenance these young before her had. 
     Of a father, there was neither sight nor smell but she sat for a long time to make sure that the cubs were, in truth, alone. Circling the clearing, Ædra then used the position of the sun to make her way to the west where the forest opened out onto the scree slopes of Pic Hautain. The birds ignored her progress and joined in the chorus as she stepped through the soft undergrowth, singing in a soft voice which harmonised with nature itself. 
     After half a mile, the forest thinned and she crept from tree to tree onto the slopes which plunged to the river far below as it cascaded over a long cliff only to crash, in a maelstrom of foam, into the lake at the head of the valley. Her eyes scanned the scree until they focused on the sight she had come to see. 
     The slopes which would never have supported the great bulk of Brutus without causing an avalanche supported her as she crept surreptitiously towards the small group of deer pulling at the sparse tufts of grass on the hillside. One of them would keep the cubs fed for a few days. After, that, they would have to learn to fend for themselves. 
     Ædra’s toes curled round the loose stones as she sneaked across the open mountainside, her bow slipping slowly from her tanned shoulders. Downwind from the herd, she fitted the arrow snugly onto the string as it gradually tightened and stretched the supple willow. 
     It was at that moment she heard it. Lifting her head slightly, the string slackened as she strained to hear the call from far away, the call she had not heard in a long time, the call she had hoped she would never hear again. 
     Abandoning both deer and cubs, she ran full-tilt down the treacherous scree slope, an act of complete and utter madness. Bow in hand, she raced ahead of the gathering movement of stones and rocks behind her, jumping from rock to rock, slithering where she could not gain a foothold. The call was still in her ears as she leapt over the stream close to where the flies had already accumulated over the half-submerged carcass. It grew louder while she ran, as if for her life, between the rows of vines and burst into the courtyard of the chateau. 
     ‘Galahad,’ she called, fighting to get her breath back. 
     The handsome young man on the roof looked down at her, hammer in hand, and smiled. ‘Are you that hungry?’ 
     Ædra ran into the barn and he was more than a little puzzled when she emerged, leading the horse which had brought them to Gaul a year ago. Slipping down from the roof, Galahad jumped onto a low barn and thence to the ground and grabbed hold of her arm. ‘What are you doing?’ 
     ‘I must go,’ she said frantically. 
     ‘Go?’ he queried. ‘Go where?’ 
     ‘To Britannia, they need me.’ 
     ‘Just hold on,’ he said with a smirk. ‘How do you know?’ 
     ‘Ædred called to me.’ 
     Galahad was confused. ‘But your brother is in Yorwick. How could you hear his voice?’ 
     ‘He used the power. He called to me in desperation.’ 
     ‘The power?’ 
     ‘How else do you think we communicate? We are twins, Galahad, we have the power.’ 
     ‘But why would Ædred call you, here in Gaul?’ 
     ‘He must be in very great danger, a danger which threatens to destroy the whole of Britannia.’ 
     He turned to saddle up another horse. ‘Then I will come with you.’ 
     ‘No!’ She grabbed his arm. ‘It is not the kind of danger which can be remedied by the might of the sword.’ 
     ‘Is it the great evil of which you spoke last year? The evil which will come from the north and destroy many?’ 
     ‘No, it is not yet time. This evil must be far greater.’ 
     ‘What could be greater and more evil than that?’ 
     ‘I don’t know. However, this evil must be a very great one indeed if my brother feels it can only be overcome by the return of King Arthur’s Brood.’ 


- Uincæstir -

     Princess Toreal of Caledonia was very highly regarded in Uincæstir. Having married Ceawlin, son of King Cynric of Westsæx, just two years previously, she had adapted very well to living among the peoples in the south of Britannia. Brought up close to Odin’s Burgh, second city of the Cruithni Picts, this land was very different, with none of the mountains and green valleys she had known when she was young. As a child, she had lived among the Celtic peoples of Caledonia and had been taught to paint by the great Pict artist, Golmar. Since then, wherever she went she would sit and sketch and, if she could get hold of pigments, she would paint the things she saw around her. The walls of the Great Hall were already lined with her efforts to capture the nearby river, the north and south dunes to the east, and the sea at nearby Portcæstra. 
     Strolling between the rows of flowers surrounding the city walls, Toreal smiled as she remembered the great threat to Ædra’s life and how they had fooled the Church of Rome into thinking the Princess had been killed by the High Priest of Mithra at Procolitia far away on the Vallum. The little laugh the memory brought her made her place her hand involuntarily onto her swollen belly as she sat down on one of the large rocks beside the water and watched the cranes fishing for their tea. 
     The sun was low in the sky as Toreal sat beside the swift-running waters of the Itchen, an almost completed masterpiece on her lap, thinking ahead to the birth. Would her child really be the boy Ædra had promised? She shrugged. Did it matter? She loved her husband and she was sure that he, too, would be happy with whatever she produced. 
     Looking up, she noticed that, over the last half hour, the gardens had gradually cleared of people as the light had faded and, reluctantly, she folded her sketch pad, slipped the charcoal sticks into the voluminous pocket of her light smock and smiled as the last, fading rays of the sun twinkled in her bright, healthy eyes and shone warm on the tanned skin of her face. A slight breeze stirred the trees around the castle wall and a little shiver ran through her body as the first autumn leaves scurried around as if frantically seeking escape. 
     Perhaps, she thought to herself, I should have worn a thicker gown. How unpredictable the weather was in Britannia. At least in Caledonia it could be expected to rain often. Here, in Westsæx, it was dryer but more changeable. Getting to her feet awkwardly, Toreal slowly headed for the gateway and the path leading back to the castle. Smiling to herself, she opened the wooden gate and stepped into the dark, stone entrance-way. 
     A slight sound behind her made her heart skip a beat but before she could either move or cry out, a hand was placed over her mouth and another around her shoulders as she was pulled firmly into the darkest corner by strong arms. 
     No, she thought frantically, not rape. Please, no, it will kill my baby. Despite her struggles, she was pressed further into the darkness of the gateway but, surprisingly, no attempt was made to open her cape nor harm her in any way. 
     ‘I will let go if you promise not to call out,’ whispered the voice close to her ear as her brown eyes went wide at the tall shadow holding her firmly. 
     As far as the hand clamped over her mouth would allow, Toreal nodded her affirmation and the hands slowly released her. She tried to work out who it was daring to enter the castle area and attack the mother of the future King of Westsæx. The attacker stood several inches taller than she did and the pregnant princess could see that the mysterious interloper had very short, fair hair highlighted by the remnants of the fading light and dressed in the style of a Cantii peasant. One thing was wrong, she observed as her inborn intelligence brought out the detective instincts in her. It was the smell. The stranger might look like a peasant, but he smelled far too clean. 
     ‘Toreal,’ said the dominant voice quietly but with authority. ‘Can you get me into the castle without our being seen?’ 
     Toreal’s eyes went even wider as her heartbeat started to slow down and her arms came up and encircled the neck of the one before her as tears rolled down her cheeks. She clung tightly to the one close to her and sobbed for a long time before regaining her composure. 
     ‘You, my girl, are getting fat,’ stated the stranger, whose hands were now inside Toreal’s cape, gently resting on her belly. 
     Toreal laughed and her fingers deftly undid the catch on her thin dress and opened it wide so that the kindly hands could slip onto the smooth skin of her abdomen and feel the baby move in her womb. 
     ‘It’s not entirely my fault.’ She laughed again before becoming serious. ‘My dear friend, why did you come back? What is wrong?’ 
     ‘I was hoping you would be able to tell me,’ replied Princess Ædra of Camelot.

     King Ædred of Deira placed before the big fire as his queen fed the baby in the warmth of its glow. Already, the evenings were beginning to close in as autumn began and the castle-headquarters which the Romans had built almost three centuries earlier could be decidedly chilly after the sun had set. 
     ‘Does Ædra know?’ asked the Queen as she gently rocked her baby on her knee. 
     ‘I hope so, Carra. I’m not entirely sure just how far the power will reach and whether I have been able to contact her in Gaul, but I hope so, For her sake.’ 
     ‘Will she return to Britannia?’ asked the daughter of the Cymbric chieftain of Iarum. 
     ‘I most certainly hope not,’ replied the King firmly. ‘If my sister were to return now, it would mean her certain death. I just hope she received the warning I sent her.’ 
     ‘Is the evil that great?’ 
     The King turned to face her. ‘I do not understand its source but I do know that it is more powerful and evil than anything either my sister or I have come up against before.’ 
     ‘What will happen to us, here in Yorwick?’ 
     He looked down. ‘We are finished, my dear Carra. You have witnessed for yourself the hurt and death it has already produced. I just hope that Ædra has got the warning message and can now run and try to hide from this evil power. It will be her only chance.’
     ‘Then it has all been for nothing? All our work of uniting the Cymbric Britons with the Anglisc refugees has been pointless? We have worked in vain for all these years?’ 
     Ædred took Carra’s hand in his. ‘I fear so, my dear. There is nothing but pain and death ahead for us and our people after what has already happened. Ædra will be safe in far-away Gaul and I am very glad she is not here in Britannia where she would have been utterly destroyed by this evil being which has taken over our island.’ 
     The two figures crept silently through the side gate of the castle and into the chapel where they bowed respectfully before sitting down together. 
     ‘You look so different,’ observed Toreal. ‘I hardly recognised you with short hair. Had it not been for the lack of the usual country smells, I really would have taken you for a Cantii peasant.’ 
     ‘It was Galahad’s idea. He said that if I was going to insist on going traipsing all over Gaul and Britannia on my own, I would not last five minutes if I was dressed as a young lady so he cut off all my hair and found myself these peculiar clothes to wear.’ 
     Toreal laughed. ‘Well, it worked. The disguise got you here.’ 
     ‘It nearly didn’t in several places,’ Ædra admitted. ‘You certainly see the seedier side of life from the back of a horse. Dressed as a woman, I doubt if I would have reached Rouen intact and certainly would not have got across the channel in one piece. Those sailors have lewd minds, do you know that?’ 
     ‘I can imagine.’ 
     ‘Believe me,’ said Ædra. ‘You can’t even begin to imagine the half of what runs through their minds.’ 
     Toreal touched Ædra’s arm. ‘You didn’t come unarmed, did you?’ 
     ‘Not me,’ Ædra indicated. ‘I’ve bought my trusty bow and arrows.’ 
     ‘Can use them?’ asked Toreal, frowning. 
     ‘Well enough, I guess,’ Ædra confirmed, wondering how she would react if she were forced into a situation where a fellow human was her target instead of some wild animal. She changed the subject quickly. ‘Your people love you, Toreal.’ 
     ‘How do you know?’ 
     ‘I hear them talking at the inns and in the market places. The Sæxons follow the King because he is their ruler but the Britons obey because of you. You are a Cymbric, like them, and they sense the oneness of race and purpose. If you, a Caledonian Princess, can trust a Sæxon king enough to marry his son, then they must put their trust in him, too.’ 
     ‘You are very kind, Ædra. You always were.’ 
     ‘Until I died.’ 
     Toreal laughed again. ‘Yes, until you died.’ She became serious again. ‘Why did you come back?’ 
     Ædra shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Ædred called me. The message was not clear but the urgency came across.’ 
     ‘Was the message by means of the power?’ 
     Ædra was taken aback. ‘You know of the power?’ 
     ‘I am Cymbric, dear Ædra. I know of your father, King Arthur, and the stories of Camelot which reached even Caledonia. With your background, I would have been amazed if you did not have some sort of power, particularly with you being a twin.’ 
     ‘Then I might confide in you?’ 
     ‘Ædra. If you cannot do that, we are no longer friends.’ 
     ‘Then I will explain.’ Ædra took hold of her friend’s hand. ‘When the Roman armies left Britannia a hundred years ago, the tribes in the South felt threatened by your own people, the Picts, who used to raid their villages and cities. One of the Cantii tribal leaders, a Briton named Vortigern, decided to enlarge his army by calling in mercenaries which had opted to stay behind when the Romans departed. Among these mercenaries were two Sæxon brothers, Hengist and Horsa. Are you with me so far?’ 
     Toreal nodded. ‘I, too, have heard of these things.’ 
     ‘Lord Hengist had a daughter, Princess Rowena, and Chieftain Vortigern promised Lord Hengist half of his kingdom for the young Princess. Unfortunately, while Rowena was still a child, things went wrong. They fell out and Vortigern died, so Hengist and Horsa divided up Vortigern’s kingdom between them. My father heard of this and fought many battles against the Anglisc and, during one of them, Horsa was killed.’ 
     ‘I see.’ 
     ‘My father finally cornered Lord Hengist on the marshes at Heathfeld near Dauncæstra. There was a terrible battle and many thousands died.’ 
     ‘Who won the battle?’ 
     ‘Neither side - it was a stalemate. Hengist returned to his fort at Burgh Conan and my father and his knights camped nearby and then surrounded the fort during the night. In the morning, the castle was stormed and it fell. Hengist was captured and my father had no alternative but to have him executed for his treachery against Vortigern.’ 
     ‘But how does this affect you?’ 
     ‘Princess Rowena was my mother.’ 
     ‘How? I don’t understand.’ 
     ‘Before his execution, Lord Hengist pleaded with my father to spare his child’s life. Princess Rowena was brought up at court as if she was the King’s own daughter.’ 
     ‘I’ll bet the Britons didn’t like that.’ 
     ‘They most certainly did not,’ replied Ædra with surprising venom in her voice. ‘An Anglisc Princess at the Court of Camelot caused quite a stir as well as considerable embarrassment. A plot was made to have her executed upon the death of the King but the Princess got to hear of it.’ 
     ‘Could your father not stop them? After all, he was King Arthur.’ 
     ‘He was quite old by that time and had been badly wounded in a battle with Mordred. Some of the knights at that time were very strong and wielded considerable influence, especially where hatred of the Anglisc was concerned.’ 
     ‘So what happened?’ 
     ‘In a last bid to save her life, Princess Rowena became pregnant with the King’s Brood.’ 
     ‘You?’ Toreal whispered. 
     Ædra nodded. ‘And Ædred.’ 
     ‘So you were both brought up at the King’s court in Camelot.’ 
     ‘I was, but not Ædred. My father died and, immediately before the birth, mother discovered a plot to have any son and heir of the King murdered. It would have been most embarrassing, they thought, to have an Anglisc King on the throne of Britannia.’ 
     ‘Only half-Anglisc, surely?’ 
     ‘Even half was too much for those proud Celts. Rowena had Ædred hidden at birth and brought up in one of the villages. She, herself, was killed to remove the threat of an Anglisc Princess at court.’ 
     ‘But you survived.’ 
     ‘By the skin of my teeth. All through my childhood, there were attempted plots and assassinations and only the constant protection of Lady Moryna kept me alive during that time. However, even Moryna was unable to prevent it all coming to a head when I was twelve.’ 
     ‘What happened’ 
     ‘The Chief Druid chose me as a sacrificial victim on May Day. You know about May Day, being a Celt. The virgins of the village dance around the sacrificial maypole and one from their number is chosen to assure good crops throughout the year.’ 
     ‘And you were chosen as sacrificial victim?’ 
     ‘Yes. I was tied to the maypole and the fires actually lit around me.’ 
     Toreal’s eyes were like dinner plates as she listened to the incredible story. 
     ‘I don’t know why I did it, but I called for help and it worked. Just in the nick of time, Ædred arrived on his white stallion, Excalibur in hand, and rescued me.’ 
     ‘Wow!’ said Princess Toreal of Caledonia and Westseax. 
     ‘We could communicate, you see. Over the next few weeks, we also found that we could control certain things.’ 
     ‘Like what?’ 
     ‘The weather, people, even inanimate things like Excalibur came under our spell.’ 
     ‘You mean you can work this power now?’ 
     ‘Not alone. For the power to be really effective, I need Ædred close by.’ 
     ‘No wonder Warun was so frightened when you turned up at Scone. He thought you were a witch and had came to take out your revenge on the Cruithni people for raiding Iarum.’ 
     Ædra shrugged. ‘Without Ædred, I was powerless.’ 
     ‘Then you really did intend going through with the marriage to Borin?’ 
     ‘Oh, yes, I had given my word. Borin had Yorwick surrounded and I offered my own life in exchange for the lives of the people. I could not have gone back on my promise.’ 
     ‘Even if Borin had insisted in observing all those disgusting tribal rituals?’ 
     She shrugged again. ‘I had given my word.’ 
     ‘Poor Mæve,’ said Toreal as she remembered Ædra’s maid who had bravely given up her own life to save Ædra that night at Scone. ‘She loved you, Ædra, as we do.’ 
     ‘We?’ 
     ‘Roxana and I. We would have done anything for you.’ She looked down at their entwined hands. ‘We still will.’ 
     There was silence in the chapel for some minutes until Ædra spoke. ‘Have you really heard no news of any threat to Britannia?’ 
     ‘Not a thing. Cynric has fought a few battles with the Britons recently, but that’s all.’ 
     ‘At Sarum?’ 
     Toreal looked up sharply at Ædra. ‘How did you know?’ 
     Ædra pondered. ‘I don’t know, it just came to me. Tell me, what happened at Sarum?’ 
     ‘There had been trouble brewing for some time. The King heard that the Druids had started up human sacrifices again at the big henge and he sent his men there to stop it.’ 
     ‘And?’ 
     ‘The Druids were there all right. He caught them in the act of sacrificing a virgin from the town and had them all killed. He then had some of the stones pulled down to prevent them using the place again.’ 
     ‘Cynric seems to be taking his role very seriously.’ 
     ‘It’s your fault, Ædra. You went and died and it has produced a Christian fervour never before seen in Westsæx. You became a martyr. Do you know, you accomplished as much with your death as you did during you life?’ 
     ‘But now I am back.’ 
     Toreal gripped her arm. ‘Ædra, you must stay dead. If any of the tribal leaders get to find out you have tricked them, they could become very angry.’ 
     ‘I didn’t do it to trick them, Toreal, you know that. It was all Emilio and Igor’s doing. Ædred knew only because he could still feel the power and suspected what they were up to.’ 
     ‘Did Galahad know?’ 
     Ædra shook her head. ‘Not at the time. The problem with Galahad is that he is too innocent. He would have given the game away immediately.’ 
     ‘When did you first realise what they were up to?’ 
     ‘When Igor tricked me into going to Procolitia and I saw that poor dead girl who looked so much like me. Igor had been too late to save her life from the priest of Mithra so he simply substituted her body for mine.’ 
     ‘Did no-one recognise she was not you?’ 
     ‘No-one. She had been mutilated beyond recognition by the priest whom Igor slew. Tell me, Toreal, how did you become involved?’ 
     Toreal looked guilty. ‘Emilio needed a way of getting you out of the country to and I lived near the south coast. It was Carra who who told me. I think your brother had confronted Emilio and had forced the truth out of him. It was fortunate I was around at the time.’ 
     Ædra laughed. ‘You should have seen Galahad’s face on the boat when he found it was all a trick.’ 
     ‘Was he angry with you?’ 
     ‘No, bless him. He was so relieved to discover I was still alive that he forgave us all for the deception.’ 
     Toreal paused. ‘What will you do now?’ 
     ‘I must go to Ædred at Yorwick. He will know what the problem is.’ 
     ‘Will you stay here tonight?’ 
     ‘No. I have risked your life enough, I dare not be seen with you any more. I will sleep at the inn.’ 
     ‘May I make a suggestion?’ 
     ‘Of course,’ Ædra smiled. 
     ‘Dye your hair.’ 
     ‘How can I do that?’ 
     ‘I have a potion which will make it darker. Come to the west door at midnight and I will give it to you, along with some clothes.’ 
     Ædra frowned. ‘Why on earth would I need any of your clothes?’ 
     ‘Not mine, silly. They wouldn’t fit you, you are much too tall, being part-Anglisc. I will give you some of Cewlin’s old things so that you can continue your disguise.’ 
     ‘Very well.’ 
     ‘Your voice is good, Ædra, you have gained a Frankish accent already. That, along with that deep tan of yours, changes you quite a lot. It’s a pity that we can do nothing with your eyes, they are a dead give-away.’ 
     ‘You leave my baby blue eyes alone, young lady.’ 
     Toreal laughed and clutched at her belly as it shook and she winced. 
     ‘Are you all right?’ Ædra asked, suddenly concerned. 
     ‘Yes, but you shouldn’t make me laugh. Not so close to the birth.’ 
     ‘You are a good friend, Toreal.’ 
     ‘Take care of yourself, Ædra. If the Church gets even the slightest hint that you are still alive, it will spare nothing to have you destroyed.’ 
     ‘I’ll be careful.’ 
     ‘Promise me you will come and see my son before you return to Gaul.’ 
     Ædra gently kissed her friend tenderly and caressed the warm belly which moved at her touch. 
     ‘I Promise,’ she said. 

- Sarum -

     Aedra made her way northwards during the next day, her white horse trotting along in the early morning sunshine. She bought some assorted fruit at Stokbrycg and ate it sitting beside the River Test while her mount guzzled a well-earned drink and a bowl full of grain. 
     ‘Well, Marigold,’ she said to her horse, patting its rump. ‘I guess we’ll soon find out what this is all about.’ She looked at the animal wistfully. ‘Marigold; that’s a really stupid name for a horse. Whoever decided to call you that, eh?’ 
     The mare did not enlighten her but continued to refresh itself, quite oblivious to this strange human who talked to herself. 
     Ædra jumped to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s go. Tell you what, you get up on my back for a change.’ 
     Marigold was not amused.

     It was soon after midday when she arrived at the busy town of Sarum and headed straight for the market place. With her hair now dark, she was totally inconspicuous among the Britons who lived and farmed the area. 
     Dismounting at the edge of the square, she hired two young urchins to look after Marigold while she mingled and listened for snippets of gossip. 
     ‘There will be nothing but trouble,’ one declared as he passed her by. She paused for a moment before following at a short distance, pretending to examine the merchandise on display. 
     ‘The henge has been undisturbed for a thousand years,’ added another. 
     Ædra pondered. As a child, she had been taught history from the old records at Camelot. Her recollection was that the Cymbric tribes, mainly Atrebates, had lived in the area for centuries before the Romans came. However, when they arrived, they had found the great henge already constructed on the plains. No-one knew who had built it although it had been modified by the Druids and used by them in their worship of the sun. 
     The autumn fair was in full swing by the river so Ædra strolled around, enjoying the sun and feeling the excitement of the people as they went about their daily duties. She smiled as she watched the children play in the water and was tempted to slip out of her top clothes and join them but that would not have done at all. Her dark hair would have run for one thing. For another, the shape of her body might have shown through her wet clothes and given the game away. So she was content to lie back on the river bank for a while, eating an apple and listening to the passing peasants, eager for a further clue as to what was happening. 
     After about an hour, it became clear as to what she must do. She would learn little more second-hand. Jumping to her feet, she forced herself to stride like a man towards her horse and then recover it from the trusty caretakers with a smile and half a krone. She realised her mistake too late. These children had never seen such an amount in their lives and probably, neither had their parents. This dark stranger with the white mare and long bow would be talked about for many a season. 
     It was almost sunset by the time she reached the hedge and lightly slipped from Marigold's back onto the soft, damp grass. Tying the horse to a bush, Ædra stepped towards barren ground. Even from outside the circle, she could feel the evil permeating from every facet of the stones, every grain of dust within the circle, every shadow that stretched across the top of the hillock. Slipping the bow from her shoulders, she rested it against one of the outer stones. Her arrows would be useless against any power resting here. Her toes touched the edge of the circle as the sun dipped below the great stone. 
     ‘Can you hear me?’ she shouted at the top of her voice and, half a mile away, a flock of birds flew up from a copse, squawking into the evening air. Her voice echoed around the stones like an eerie ghost’s but there was no reply. She called several times with the same result then, with heart in mouth, she stepped into the circle. 
     The evil dropped over her like a thick, black blanket. The last, fading rays of the sun still shone outside the circle but here, within, the foggy darkness was oppressive. She called out again and, this time, her voice did not echo but was flat and deadened by the all-enveloping atmosphere around her. Ædra stood in the centre and took the short dagger from her belt. 
     ‘If you do not come,’ she called. ‘I will desecrate the stones.’ 
     There was no reply so she stepped to the nearest stone and raised her arm to scratch her name into the hard, Cambrian rock. She looked around, but nothing stirred. With precision, Ædra carved her name into the stone and, as she finished, a wind started to blow and she heard the laughing. Ædra’s hands went over her ears as it grew louder until she could stand it no more and screamed. 
     ‘So that’s who you are,’ came the booming voice. 
     ‘Who..who are you?’ she called. 
     ‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ said the voice. ‘Why are you here?’ 
     ‘I came to purify the henge.’ 
     ‘Oh, have you?’ 
     ‘Who are you?’ she repeated. 
     ‘One day, you will know. But first, I must bring great pain for your attempts to offend the spirit of the henge.’ 
     She swallowed as she stood erect to face the ordeal. 
     The voice laughed again. ‘Not to you, Ædra, not yet. First, I will see you mentally tormented beyond belief. There is more than one way to bring pain.’ There was a pause. 
     ‘However,’ the voice continued. ‘Just to show you the kind of agony I can and will inflict upon all your friends...’ 
     She found herself being lifted into the air and she looked down at the ground a yard below her feet. Her body was turned over and over by a mysterious force and then slammed against one of the stones, driving all the breath from her body and causing her considerable agony. It felt as if every bone in her body was broken but, before she could recover, she was taken into the air and thrown against the stones again and again. 
     This force knew just how to hurt her the most and, as unconsciousness threatened, the cruel treatment stopped until her senses returned then she was raised into the air once more and her body was stretched across the biggest stone which had long served as a sacrificial altar. It felt as if she was being compressed by a millstone as her ribs cracked under the pressure of the force which, suddenly, was reversed and her arms and legs were being ripped from their sockets. 
     Over the next few minutes, she felt as if she was being crushed and dismembered all at the same time until, after a while, she fell to the barren ground, sweating and aching in every part of her being. Curled up like a small child, she clutched at her abdomen which felt as if a great pole had been repeatedly rammed into it, and she cried until it was very dark and she was alone on the moor. 
     She lay for a long time, unable move for the pain, until the wind blew cold and her horse whinnied to remind her that it was bed-time. Rolling over, she tried to rise but the pain made her head swim and she was violently sick. Eventually, she managed to crawl outside the circle and lay, panting, as Marigold licked her face with affection. 
     An owl hooted in the distant copse and she struggled, unsteadily, to her feet and leaned on the horse for support. Most of the sharp pain had now dissipated, except for the feeling in her abdomen which felt as if her whole womb had been ripped out of her body. It reminded her of the sensation after having given birth to Paulinus and how raw she had felt for days afterwards. This evil certainly knew how to bring the greatest pain and humiliation to a woman. 
     Ædra attempted, desperately, to climb onto her to mount but was unable. She tried walking but her legs would not behave properly so, eventually, she gave up and slept on the plain, Marigold standing guard over her prone form.


     It was the insect which woke her. Buzzing around close to her face, it flew in search of food as the morning sun shone down upon her. Slowly rolling over onto her back, Ædra saw the trusty Marigold a short distance away and the stones of the henge standing stark against the skyline. Staggering painfully to her feet, she located her bow and arrows and confronted the edge. 
     ‘I don’t know who you are,’ she shouted from the edge of the circle, her hand on her battered stomach. ‘But I will fight you. And if you harm any of my friends,’ she promised; ‘I will destroy you, whoever you are. Do you hear me?’ 
     There was no reply.


     Poor Marigold got a belting that day. Almost all day long, the mount was forced to gallop westwards as if racing the sun across the sky and, by evening, Ædra was on the Tor overlooking Camelot. She smiled at the long grass which now grew upon the top of the hill and at the children as they played at the foot of the slope in the glow of the afternoon sun. As she led her horse down the incline, children stopped to look at her as she walked towards the girl with the fair hair. 
     ‘Daryl,’ she called quietly and the child walked toward her, stopping a short distance away. Ædra dropped to her knees to reduce any threat the young girl might feel from a tall stranger. ‘Would you go and get your mother for me?’ 
     ‘Who are you?’ she asked, puzzled. 
     Ædra smiled. ‘I am an old friend. Tell her that Rowena’s child is here. Can you do that?’ 
     ‘Rowena’s child,’ repeated Daryl before turning and running to the castle while Ædra sat down and started on a long daisy chain to the delight of the other children. They had never seen a “man” making a daisy chain before. 
     Moryna came running and stood, suspiciously, a short distance away. Ædra stood up slowly. 
     ‘Hello, Moryna,’ she said and the poor ex-midwife nearly had a heart attack as Ædra rushed forward to prevent her falling to the ground. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’ 
     ‘They told me you were dead,’ the woman declared simply. ‘When Daryl said Rowena’s child was here, I thought it would be your brother.’ 
     ‘Moryna, my friend. To all intents and purposes, I am dead. And it is important, for the time being, that I stay that way.’ 
     ‘Oh, Ædra,’ said Moryna, clutching her tight. ‘You don’t know how happy it makes me to see you are still alive. Your Uncle Gann will be delighted.’ 
     ‘You must not tell Gann,’ Ædra cautioned. ‘Not yet. The fewer people who know, the better.’ 
     ‘Then why did you come back to Camelot?’ 
     ‘I need to get into the castle library,’ said Ædra. ‘There is something I must read up on. Can you help me?’ 
     ‘Of course, but why here?’ 
     ‘It has to be Camelot. This is the only place which contains the information I seek.’ 
     ‘Very well,’ said the older woman, holding out her hand to Ædra. ‘Come with me.’ 
     Together, they waked into the castle gate and stopped briefly over the stop where, on the day of Ædra’s birth, her mother, had been slaughtered by a blood-lustful crowd. Ædra turned, waved her goodbye to the children, left Marigold in the courtyard, and entered the castle of Camelot.


     It was a long time before she found what she was looking for. Moryna, who had come to help her, looked up as Ædra slowly got to her feet. 
     ‘Merlin,’ she suddenly said, holding the volume in her hands. ‘It is Merlin.’ 
     ‘What is?’ 
     ‘The great evil at the henge. The henge was defiled by Cynric to prevent further human sacrifices. Unfortunately, it was the last resting place of Merlin. No wonder he was angry.’ 
     ‘But surely, if he returns, it will be to the sacred Tor, here at Camelot.’ 
     ‘He cannot. I have purified it.’ 
     Moryna was astounded. ‘You purified the Tor?’ 
     ‘Yes. Galahad and I drove the evil away with love. Merlin cannot return here in power.’ She looked up. ‘He is wandering around, somewhere, seeking to hurt my friends and then he will destroy me.’ 
     ‘Ædra, you are a Christian. Surely you do not believe in such things.’ 
     ‘You are right, Moryna. I am a Christian. I do believe in God, yes, but I would be very stupid indeed if I did not also believe in the Devil.’ 
     ‘What has Merlin got to do with the Devil?’ 
     ‘Merlin is the servant of the Devil. It says here...’ She read her father’s writing from the book in her hands. ‘“One day, Merlin dared to reveal the source of his power to a witch called Morgana and the Devil allowed him to be overcome by her spell. She imprisoned him in a tree and this tree was buried beneath one of the great stones at the henge.” Don’t you see, Moryna? when Cynric sent his army to defile the henge, they must have moved the stone and released Merlin from his prison. He will be trying to get his revenge.’ 
     ‘Why upon you?’ 
     ‘The witch was the sister of the King. She was, therefore, my aunt, and I am the only remaining direct female descent of King Arthur. As far as he is concerned, I am what remains of King Arthur’s Brood.’ 
     ‘Can you not stop him?’ 
     ‘I don’t know. With the power, I might survive a little longer but, one day, he will catch me unawares and I will be...no more.’ 
     ‘There is not just yourself, Ædra. There is Ædred and his children and your own son.’ 
     ‘There are also my friends to consider. I must fight him.’ 
     ‘But how?’ 
     Ædra placed her hand on Moryna’s shoulder. ‘I don’t know how I will do it but I have to try. The lives of too many children are at stake for me to fail.’


     Moryna persuaded Ædra to stay the night at Camelot and made ready her own room. It was a while they were getting ready for bed that Gann burst in. 
     ‘Where is he?’ the big man demanded to know. 
     ‘Where is who, dear?’ asked Moryna innocently. 
     ‘You know who I mean. The man who arrived here this evening. Where is he?’ 
     ‘Gann, I do believe you are jealous,’ she told her husband. 
     ‘I don’t want to be, but what am I to think? People all over the city have been dropping hints about this tall knight who arrives and walks around hand-in-hand with you. Even my own daughter tells me she saw the two of you in each others arms. I persuade myself it is all some big mistake until I get into your bedroom and find you half-undressed and with a man’s clothes on the bed. What else am I to think?’ 
     Moryna put her arms around her husband’s neck. ‘Gann, dearest, I do not have a man in my room, believe me.’ 
     ‘I want to believe you but the people are still sensitive over the Gwynvir and Lancelot affair. I have to do something.’ 
     ‘Like what?’ 
     ‘I must deal with this adulterer.’ 
     It was the giggle from the window recess which made him stop and listen. Carefully, he stepped over and swished aside the long drapes. Red with embarrassment, he turned away quickly. 
     ‘It..is a woman,’ he admitted. 
     Moryna laughed. ‘Well, your eyesight is certainly not failing you, Gann. It is indeed a woman.’ 
     ‘B..but who?’ he stammered. 
     ‘Hello Uncle Gann,’ said the voice and he turned to see the cheeky face peeking out of the gap in the drapes. 
     ‘Ædra?’ he queried with mouth ajar. 
     ‘Of course.’ 
     He became serious. ‘What on earth have you done to your hair?’ 
     Ædra laughed while Moryna passed her a blanket which she wrapped around herself and re-entered the room. ‘Aren’t you just a teeny bit glad to see me?’ 
     ‘Of course.’ He held his niece tightly for a moment. ‘What happened to that little girl who used to sit on my knee?’ 
     ‘What do you mean?’ 
     ‘I er... I couldn’t help noticing that you are a real woman now.’ 
     She laughed. ‘You peeked.’ 
     ‘I didn’t mean to.’ He laughed in return. ‘I simply couldn’t believe the evidence my eyes. I came in here, expecting to find a man and found a beautiful maiden instead, and stark naked at that.’ 
     ‘Gann, behave yourself,’ said Moryna. 
     ‘You started it,’ he said with a smile. ‘If you had let me in on your secret, it would never have happened.’ 
     He squeezed Ædra who tried not to show her pain and discomfort. ‘I’m very glad to see you. I thought you dead.’ 
     ‘I was, to everyone else.’ Gann sat down and Ædra carefully sat on his knee. ‘But I had to come back.’ 
     ‘Why?’ 
     ‘Ædred called me. Merlin is on the rampage.’ 
     ‘Merlin?’ 
     ‘He has been released and is out to destroy all the relatives of the witch who had him imprisoned. 
     ‘I see. You think you can do anything?’ 
     ‘I don’t know. He is very powerful.’ 
     How do you know?’ asked Moryna. 
     She told them about henge and Moryna slowly got to her feet and stood behind Ædra. Without warning, she pulled the sheet down Ædra’s back and drew in her breath sharply. ‘Are you like that all over?’ 
     Ædra nodded. 
     What is it? asked Gann. 
     ‘Stand up and turn around, Ædra,’ said Moryna. She did and the ex-midwife took the blanket, gently, from her back and Gann saw massive bruising from neck to bottom. 
     ‘Did Merlin do that?’ asked Gann and Ædra nodded again. 
     ‘Gann,’ said Moryna. ‘Would you fetch cold water and cloths, quickly.’ 
     Gann nodded and left despite Ædra’s protests that it was not necessary. 
     ‘You cannot go through with this,’ instructed Moryna, taking the blanket from her body and running her expert fingers over her blue-tinged belly. She gently touched a slightly swollen breast. ‘Does that hurt?’ 
     Ædra winced and nodded. 
     ‘Good grief, he’s made a mess of you, hasn’t he?’ 
     ‘I’ll live,’ said Ædra as Moryna replaced the blanket around her. 
     ‘You will this time, but your body will not take much more of this sort of punishment without giving up.’ Moryna looked Ædra straight in the eyes. ‘Where does it hurt the most?’ 
     ‘Inside,’ replied Ædra, placing her hand on her abdomen. 
     ‘Have you been bleeding?’ Moryna asked. 
     Ædra nodded. 
     ‘Merlin means to totally humiliate you, you know that, don’t you?’ Moryna said vehemently. ‘I believe he intends to abuse you and destroy you totally inside before he finishes you off completely.’ She put her arm around the young Princess. ‘He must really hate women.’ 
     Ædra shrugged. ‘It was a woman who tricked him. It will be women and girls which will be his chief target now and I will be the one to take the initial brunt of it. That is why I must find a way to defeat him before he starts on the others.’


     In the morning, Ædra visited the smith’s forge where he sweated as he pulled on the bellows and then beat out the shoe on the anvil. 
     ‘Yes, my lord?’ he greeted Ædra who was now dressed in clothes loaned to her from Cewlin via Toreal. 
     Ædra handed him a sketch. ‘Are you able to make this?’ 
     He nodded. ‘Iron?’ 
     ‘An alloy,’ corrected Ædra, explaining. ‘Can you do that?’ 
     ‘The mixture will reduce the hardness,’ he warned. 
     ‘No matter.’ 
     He shrugged. ‘It can be done, My Lord. How many?’ 
     ‘Just the one.’ She passed him gold. ‘Can you do it immediately?’ 
     ‘Of course,’ he said, eyes wide open as he looked into the palm of his hand. ‘Return in one hour and it will be ready.’


     Aedra was half expecting something to happen, but was totally unprepared for the reaction when she returned to the castle. Moryna was frantic and Gann was obviously very worried. 
     ‘What is wrong?’ asked Ædra. 
     ‘It’s Daryl. She has vanished.’ 
     A massive hole suddenly substituted for Ædra’s heart as she slowly sat down. ‘Have you checked everywhere?’ 
     ‘She is definitely not in the castle and others are searching the city now.’ 
     Ædra got to her feet, picked up her bow and arrows and headed for the doorway. 
     ‘Where are you going?’ asked the terrified Moryna. 
     ‘To bring her back,’ said Ædra, walking towards the smith’s forge.


     The beechwood shaft fitted perfectly as Ædra gently tapped the heavily-barbed arrowhead onto it. Leaving all her other arrows behind, she walked slowly, bow in hand, up the slope to the Great Tor. 


- Aqua Sulis -

     The wind blew gently around Ædra as she sat in the centre of the circle. The grass fluttered slightly under its power and white clouds skittered across the face of the autumn sun as she waited patiently throughout that peaceful afternoon. The bright yellow disc had become low in the sky when he appeared before her. 
     ‘So you came,’ said Merlin as he appeared, dressed in a long blue cloak which was half-covered by his white beard. 
     ‘Of course,’ she replied casually. ‘Did you think I would not?’ 
     ‘Do you really like pain that much?’ he gloated. 
     ‘You cannot hurt me here,’ she said. ‘I have come for the girl.’ 
     ‘I have not finished with her yet,’ he declared with a sly grin. 
     Ædra’s self-control was gradually diminishing. ‘She is a child, Merlin. A mere child, and I want her back.’ She peered straight up at him. ‘Now!’ 
     His eyes grew dark and he slowly walked around her as she sat, cross-legged on the grass. ‘You are not in a position to make demands on me, Ædra of Camelot. I have you completely in my power.’ 
     She rose slowly to her feet and fitted the specially-made arrow to her bowstring. ‘If you return her now, I will not kill you.’ 
     He threw back his head and roared with laughter. It was a horrible sound and Ædra shrugged a little inside. Was she doing the right thing? Had she really got the power to stand up to Merlin or was she about to be destroyed by this evil incarnation of all that is perverted and disgusting? 
     ‘You think you can hurt me with that puny weapon?’ he said as she tightened the string and the arrow head pointed directly to his heart. 
     ‘Try and stop me,’ she challenged. 
     Merlin smirked and raised his arms towards her. ‘First, I will bring you blindness. Your ears I will leave until you have heard the screams of your friends as they slowly die in my hands.’ He stared at her and concentrated, mouthing magical spells, but nothing happened. He tried again and the first brief look of puzzlement passed across his face. 
     ‘I cleansed the Tor,’ she informed him quietly. 
     Merlin was stunned and it took him several minutes to find words. ‘You...you cleansed the Tor?’ 
     ‘Yes. So it is you who are at my mercy now, Merlin.’ The willow creaked as she pulled back her arm further. 
     ‘No,’ he said. ‘If you kill me, you will never see the girl child again.’ 
     Ædra hesitated, one eye closed, peering along the beechwood shaft and he wrongly assumed that she was defeated. He laughed and started to turn to leave when, suddenly, a look of complete surprise came over his face and he slowly fell to his knees, blood oozing from around the wooden shaft that was now sticking from his gut. He shook his head as if he still could not believe what had happened as Ædra walked across and stood over him. 
     ‘Bring her back, Merlin,’ she commanded. 
     ‘You have killed me,’ he said, looking at the blood on his hands. 
     ‘It will take more than a arrow in the belly to kill you, you pathetic little worm.’ 
     She squatted before him, her knees almost touching his, her eyes close to his own eyes that were glazed at the pain. Slowly, her long finger reached out and simply touched the notch at the end of the arrow and he cried out agony. 
     ‘Bring her back, Merlin,’ Ædra said. 
     He shrugged and tried to fight her but he knew it was useless as he looked into those deep, blue eyes that never seemed to blink. For the time being, he was beaten and he knew it. Ædra continued to stare at him for a few moments as he swayed on his knees, the tip of the arrow grating against his spine as he moved slightly. Ædra rested her finger on the notch again. Merlin frantically nodded and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, Daryl appeared beside them. Without looking at the young girl, Ædra reached out and put her arm around the child’s waist. 
     ‘Did he hurt you, Daryl?’ she asked, still locked, eye-to-eye, with Merlin. 
     The little girl didn’t reply. 
     ‘Did you harm her, Merlin?’ 
     He just moaned a little and Ædra started to get angry, turning her eyes to Gann and Moryna’s daughter. 
     ‘Where did he hurt you, Daryl?’ she asked as kindly as her emotions would allow. There was a long silence before the child instinctively placed her hand on her belly and Ædra eased out her breath with a hiss as her eyes returned to Merlin’s which showed more than little fear. 
     Ædra knew that she could not kill him, his power was still too great. However, she could slow him down a little. Reaching out her hand, her long fingers wrapped themselves firmly around the shaft of the arrow as Merlin began to shake his head frantically. 
     Just a touch of her hand on the arrow caused an intense pain to run through his whole torso. Just a glance into her eyes told him what she was about to do and he began to whimper and shake his head some more. Ædra glanced briefly at the young girl beside her and then wrenched the beechwood shaft from Merlin’s stomach. He let out an agonising scream before peering down at the scarlet liquid trickling from between his bony fingers. 
     ‘I’ll get you for this,’ he threatened, raising his black eyes to stare her in the face. Ædra felt a cold hand creep up her spine as he continued. ‘If it is the last thing I ever do, I will make you pay in blood, over and over again. Believe me, witch. You are dead.’

     Gann and Moryna were ecstatic at receiving their daughter back alive but Ædra would answer none of their questions as she packed to leave Camelot. In desperation, Gann had her arrested and thrown in the dungeon. 
     ‘I will let you go when you tell me what this is all about,’ he declared when they were alone. 
     ‘I cannot tell you,’ she said. ‘It is too horrible.’ 
     ‘Ædra,’ said Gann at last. ‘You and I went through a lot together when you were young. I do think you can trust me.’ 
     ‘It’s not a case of trust, Gann. It’s just...’ 
     ‘Yes?’ 
     ‘He wanted Daryl for himself.’ 
     ‘For himself?’ Gann was shocked. 
     ‘He wants a child.’ 
     ‘You mean...? He...?’ 
     ‘No, I don’t think he abused her or anything, she is too young to bear him a child and he knows that. I think he tried to enter her in another way, to possess her, to make her as evil as he is. She will need a lot of love, Gann, if she is ever to be completely well again.’ 
     ‘I think I begin to understand.’ 
     ‘You never will, completely. You had to feel his evil to fully appreciate it.’ 
     Gann unlocked the door to her prison. ‘You risked your life again, didn’t you?’ 
     She shrugged it off. ‘It was nothing.’ 
     ‘Ædra, he will kill you. You know that, don’t you?’ 
     ‘Not yet, he won’t. I only hope that my action yesterday has given me enough time to deal with it in my own way.’


     That night, Ædra arrived at Aqua Sulis and stayed at the little stone inn beside the river. The whole city seemed to be full of people who had come to the old Roman baths to take the waters and to trade. There were practically no Anglisc around and, if her hair had been its natural colour, she would have stood out like a sore thumb. Dressing carefully, Ædra made her way down to the large meadow beside the Afon where the greatest number of people seemed to be gathered. 
     She did not know why she had come to Aqua Sulis. Certainly, it was en route along Fosse Way which was the most direct route north-eastwards, but there had been something else. Igor the Mighty still terrorised this part of western Britannia and his band of outlaws virtually ruled the South Midlands area from Brycgstow to Worcescæstra. Ædra could not put a reason as to why she was hoping to catch a glimpse of the old bandit. 
     As a result, instead of making a detour and avoiding the city altogether, she had purposefully come to Aqua Sulis and was now visiting the places where he was most likely to be. What puzzled her the most was that she didn’t know why. 
     In the meadow, the annual fair was in full swing and she watched the jugglers, the fire-eaters and animal trainers perform for the crowds and she listened as a minstrel sang songs of events, recent and ancient. It was quite a while before she realised that he was now singing about her. 
     ‘There is a tale I have to tell about a maiden fair,’ he sang. ‘Who came from distant Camelot with long and golden hair. Daughter of King Arthur, the one who was so brave, she travelled o’er Britannia and defeated many a knave.’ 
     Suitably embellished, the story continued as he sang of her power, her beauty (at which she blushed) and her kindness. One thing was very clear, no-one, but no-one, interrupted the song and, when he had finished, Ædra had to surreptitiously wipe the tears from her eyes and she was not alone. These people did not love the song, they did not love the minstrel, they loved their Queen and, as she turned away, she felt a traitor to her own people. She had allowed herself to be taken away from them because her life was in danger. Now she was realising that, perhaps, there were some things more important than life. 
     Hurrying from the spot, she found another crowd of people and then stood, fascinated, as two men performed acrobatics to the delight of the crowd. The older one of the duo would jump onto a seesaw and propel the younger one into the air to land upon the shoulders of the first one. 
     She clapped enthusiastically with everyone else as they finished and the crowd became hushed. Carefully, the young man placed an apple upon his head and the one who was obviously his father walked some distance away and fitted an arrow to his bowstring. Carefully, he aimed and Ædra held her breath until he shot the arrow cleanly through the core. The crowed went wild and then, gradually, started to disperse towards the edge of the big meadow where the archery contest was to be held. 
     It was then that Ædra got the shock of her life. Turning a corner, she came face-to-face with Igor the Mighty, a buxom wench on either arm. Rooted to the spot for a moment, she could not move as he approached her, laughing as he came, patting one of the girls on the bottom as she squealed. Terrified that she might be seen, Ædra dropped her head as he passed her and, thankfully, he did not recognise her. 
     It was partly that event that prompted her to enter the archery contest. The other reason was, to get out of the meadow, she would have to pass right by where he was now seated with his “ladies”. A row of targets was set up across one side of the big meadow and a dozen or more men with bows lined up, ready. When they saw her bow, other men pulled her forward. Already worse for drink, they welcomed her into their midst and she was hidden. 
     Taking her place among them, it soon became her turn. There were some good archers present that day as well as some who were so drunk they had difficulty landing the arrow in the right field, never mind into the target. With precision, she equalled the score of several of the men and some dropped out of the contest. Over the next half-hour, several more were either eliminated or disqualified and Ædra wondered if it was now time for her miss a shot and retire gracefully from the arena. 
     Moving back, away from the targets, eight archers competed again. This time, Ædra was left with three men; the two acrobats and the local champion; and it would now have been very obvious if she were to “throw” the match. Moving still further away from the roundels, the champion scored but two. Now it was up to Ædra. The crowed was hushed as Ædra fitted the narrow notch in the beechwood to her bowstring and pulled back her arm. She could not help but notice that the two acrobats, as well as several others, were watching her very closely indeed as she bent the willow. Three times she shot, three times they watched her closely, three times she scored a bull. 
     At the next stage, the other acrobat fell by the wayside and it left but two in the running, Ædra and the champion. With Ædra, archery was not a sport, something to be indulged in at fairs and village fêtes. No, Ædra had spent many, many hours practising in Gaul and had saved her own life as well as that of her son by her determination to master the skill. Now it was paying off. 
     She did not know why she had entered the contest in the first place: it was definitely not some form of medieval feminism she was promoting. After all, she was supposed to be a young man, not a female of any kind. 
     They moved back to a position previously not reached during such a contest and Ædra and the champion were given a choice of one arrow apiece. It was all or nothing on one arrow. The champion had the choice and went first. Carefully, he placed his toe on the line, aimed and waited for the wind to die down a little before he shot and the arrow flew through the air and landed dead centre of the bull. The crowed went crazy with delight. Many a flagon of ale would be consumed in Aqua Sulis that night. 
     Ædra smiled. She could not equal that. There was no adrenaline flowing to stimulate her. When defending her family in the mountains of Gaul, rarely did she have the luxury of such time and concentration. Sadly, she drew back her arm and aimed carefully and, suddenly, she knew what was wrong, what they were looking at, what they were laughing about. 
     As a child and youth, she had always been slimly built and almost flat-chested. However, since she had married and, more to the point, since she had given birth to Paulinus, she had developed in places and particularly those places where her baby had spent the last two years feeding. The thought caused her to laugh inwardly as her arm relaxed and the crowd sighed with disappointment. She felt a strange mixture of anger and embarrassment build up inside her and it was this feeling which caused her to act. 
     Knowing she had nothing to lose, Ædra laughed aloud and spun on her heel, drawing back her arm as she turned in a mock defence of her life and let go of the string. The arrow shot straight as a die and split the champion's arrow right down the centre. 
     The crowd went wild with excitement and the champion gracefully conceded the match. Raised shoulder high, Ædra was paraded around the meadow as the new champion. Relief as much as anything allowed her to ignore all else as men raised flagons to her. The truth was out. She had arrived as a man but was going to leave as a woman. 
     She waved to the two acrobats, still dressed in yellow and red garb, and they waved and smiled back as she was carried around the field amidst great cheering. Unfortunately, there was still the prizegiving and she was dropped to her feet before a table in front of the biggest tent and, when the others steeped back, she was left, face to face with Igor the Mighty. 
     Silence came over the group as Ædra stood looking frantically around for escape but seeing only a sea of faces surrounding her and Igor staring at her through half-closed eyes. Drawing back her shoulders, she stared defiantly back at him. 
     Suddenly, he signalled and two of his men grabbed her by the arms and dragged her into his tent as the crowed dispersed, perhaps a little disgusted, as they realised what it was the infamous Igor had in mind as first prize for the young maiden who had taken on and fairly beaten the men of Afon. 
     They hurried away so that they would not be shamed by their lack of action against the fierce bandit whom they had found, the hard way, they could not defeat. They ran before the screaming could start, before this unfortunate girl’s blood would stain the long grass of Green Park. 

- Brycg Stowe -

     The rain fell in a steady drizzle which pockmarked the flat surface of the Eause and pattered onto the mixed assembly of roofs around the city walls. The spent water then tricked from makeshift lead gutters into the streets and gardens of Yorwick, thus placing a decidedly miserable atmosphere over everything. It was so dark and damp that oil lamps had already been lit at the castle and a big fire raged in the hearth as the small group gathered together in the Great Hall. 
     There were several men present and one girl of about twenty with long, dark hair in plaits and wearing a velvet gown which seemed to change colour as it reflected the light when she moved closer to her husband and placed her arm around his shoulders as he sat before them. 
     ‘Something is wrong,’ said Ædred to his assembled advisors. He looked around at the men before him. ‘Because of that fact, I feel the time has come to entrust you with a secret.’ 
     ‘A secret, sire?’ queried the ex-Druid. 
     ‘Yes, Lord Galfor.’ His voice softened. ‘One that you will see the amusing side of, I’m sure.’ 
     ‘Are you sure this is wise?’ asked the Archbishop who suspected the nature of the secret his King was about to reveal. 
     ‘Yes, Emililo. I am sure.’ He paused. ‘I am sure the Queen would rather it be so.’ 
     ‘The Queen?’ asked Ida the Flamebearer, King of Northumbria. ‘But the Queen is dead.’ 
     Ædra drew his breath and looked around the room at the other Kings and Eoldormen. ‘I wish to inform you all that the Queen is not dead.’ 
     A murmuring broke out before silence came once more. They waited for Ædred to speak. 
     ‘As you all know, there was a plot by the Church to murder the Queen. The Church has become corrupt and my sister would not desist in making sure that the real truth became known about Christianity. I know many of you are now here because of her stand for that truth. What you may not know is that the Bishop of Rome assigned an assassin to dispose of our Queen. That assassin...’ He looked at the Archbishop; ‘Was Cardinal Emilio Broghanzani.’ 
     They too, looked at the Cardinal-turned-Archbishop and a great silence fell over the room. 
     ‘Fortunately for the Queen,’ Ædred continued. ‘Emilio had the foresight to act in her favour and arranged her “death”, in retirement, as Princess Ædra of Beroic. Only a few people are aware of her escape. Emilio, myself, Queen Carra, Princess Toreal and Sir Galahad.’ 
     ‘Why have you decided to reveal the matter to us, now?’ asked Galfor. 
     ‘Because Princess Ædra, our Queen, has returned to Britannia.’ 
     ‘But you said...,’ began Carra. 
     ‘Yes, I did. I tried to warn her about the great evil which has overcome us, but it appears she has interpreted my warning as a cry for help and is now here, in Britannia.’ 
     ‘How can you be sure?’ asked the Roman Commander. 
     ‘I can tell by means of the power, Polimus my friend. I do not know exactly where she is, but I do know she is in very grave danger.’ 
     ‘From the evil?’ 
     ‘From the evil, from the Church, from the people if they discover they have been deliberately tricked. She is alone, and with no friends to help her.’ 
     ‘We must find her,’ decreed Galfor. ‘We must protect her.’ 
     ‘It will not be easy,’ interjected the Archbishop. ‘We must be careful lest we lead the evil to her. It may not yet have found her.’
     ‘You are right, Emilio. For the time being, we must be patient and wait to avoid endangering her life any more that we have to. The longer my sister can stay under cover the better. If she had revealed herself upon arrival in Britannia, I’m sure we would have heard by now. I believe she has had the sense to keep a low profile and is now trying to get here without anyone knowing. I don’t know how she will manage it, but she will certainly try.’ 
     ‘What of the power?’ asked the ex-Druid. 
     ‘Of little use until we are together, Galfor, and the evil force which has taken hold of us will do everything in its power to keep us apart. At all costs, we must try to protect the Queen’s life and pray she can get to Yorwick alive. If she does, we may yet have a chance to survive.’ 
     ‘How much did that bandit fellow, Igor, know?’ 
     ‘As much as was needed. Without him, the plot to keep her alive would have failed.’ 
     ‘Can he be trusted?’ 
     ‘Igor is pure mercenary,’ said Emilio. ‘There is no doubt about that. He helped Ædra initially because of the power and then for the gold. We cannot be sure where his ultimate loyalties lie other than with himself. He knows about her being still alive but I believe he will help Ædra only if it is in his own best interests to do so. If there was ever to be a conflict of interests...’ 
     ‘Precisely,’ agreed Ædred. ‘For the time being, it would be safer if Ædra steered well clear of Igor the Mighty.’

     The bandit in question watched as his men tied Ædra firmly to the central pole of the tent. She stood in silence as the men left, leaving her alone with Igor who paced around her, watching her carefully, sizing up the situation. 
     Despite the warm day, he was dressed in a heavy fur coat which almost reached the ground, covering a thick girdle and chemise. His long sword hung from a broad leather belt exquisitely carved by an expert tanner. He was no longer young - grey streaks were now in his once dark hair and drooping moustache - ruddy cheeks, even when he was not smiling as he was now. Ædra was not afraid. Long ago as a child, she had found that she could read vibes from people and was able to interpret their intentions. The vibes from Igor, although not entirely honourable, did not seem murderous in nature. 
     ‘So, my little Princess,’ he said as he paced round her. ‘You have decided to return from the grave.’ 
     Igor stopped before her, a curved, razor-sharp dagger in his hand, and stared into her blue eyes. She did not know how to reply and so said nothing. Igor stepped closer so that no more than a foot separated their bodies. What was he going to do? Ædra was prepared for death, rape, even cannibalism, still rife among the savages of nearby Wælas. What she was neither prepared for nor expecting was the way that he suddenly kissed her and then grinned. Ædra was totally confused and stood, wide-eyed, staring at the old outlaw. 
     ‘Forgive me, Princess,’ he said as he cut the thongs holding her. ‘I’ve been dying to do that for years and I had to do it while you were tied up else you might not have let me.’ 
     He was wrong. Freed, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him back. ‘It’s good to see you, Igor,’ she said. ‘For a moment, I thought you were going to give me away.’ 
     He spread his hands in mock innocence. ‘Now would I do a thing like that?’ 
     She smiled wryly. ‘I’m never quite sure whether I can trust you or not.’ 
     ‘Princess,’ he was playfully offended. ‘After all we’ve been through together?’ 
     ‘Igor,’ she chastised. ‘I know you better than you think. You are a dirty old man at heart.’ 
     ‘Ædra,’ he pleaded. ‘I’m not so old.’ 
     ‘Old enough not to be seen around with a pair of floozies. A man of your age ought to know better.’ 
     He shrugged. ‘Even an old man has to have...distractions.’ 
     She snuggled up to him. ‘So I’m not good enough for you any more, huh?’ 
     ‘Ædra, you are far too good for me.’ He placed his hands around her waist and held her tight. ‘Why did you come back?’ 
     ‘I received a call from my brother.’ 
     He released her and stood back. ‘Why would he do that? Is there danger?’ 
     ‘I fear so, Igor. He would not have called me otherwise.’ 
     ‘What will you do?’ 
     ‘I must make my way to Yorwick and find out. I suspect it is something to do with Merlin.’ 
     Igor’s eyes darkened and he firmly gripped her arms. ‘Why would Merlin return?’ 
     ‘I’m not sure. He is certainly angry with me and my father’s household. When I reach Yorwick, I will know for certain.’ 
     The discussion was halted by the sounds of a great commotion outside and, without warning, the tent flap was thrust aside and two men stood at the threshold, side by side, their arrows pointing straight at Igor’s heart. Without hesitation, Ædra leapt in front of Igor and held out her arms. 
     ‘No,’ she cried. ‘It’s all right.’ 
     The father and son glanced at each other and then relaxed a little. 
     ‘We thought you were in trouble,’ said the older one. 
     ‘You must forgive the deception,’ she explained. ‘All is not as it must have seemed. Igor was simply protecting me in case I was recognised.’ Ædra sighed. ‘You see, I am supposed to be dead.’ 
     ‘Dead?’ the younger one replied. 
     She reached out and touched them both on their shoulders. ‘It is a long story, my friends, and I am grateful for your acting in the way you did. It was very brave of you.’ 
     ‘I am Jules,’ introduced the father after a brief hesitation. ‘And this is my son, Pierre. We are travelling acrobats from Gaul.’ 
     ‘I, too, live in Gaul,’ admitted Ædra quickly. Then, checking herself so as not to give to much away, she continued: ‘I am here on special business.’ 
     ‘Why on earth are you dressed as a man?’ asked the puzzled Jules. 
     ‘To avoid recognition,’ Ædra said as she sat down. She smiled. ‘Believe me, it is not out of choice.’ 
     ‘But why?’ 
     Ædra looked enquiringly at Igor. 
     ‘I think we can trust them, Princess,’ he said. ‘They are undoubtedly brave and were obviously not involved in the conspiracy to assassinate you.’ Igor looked at the two men. ‘This young lady is in very great danger for her life. While she was living in Gaul, she was safe. Here, she needs protection.’ 
     ‘You called her “Princess”,’ said Pierre. ‘Who is she?’ 
     ‘This girl..’ Igor looked down at the smiling Ædra. ‘..is a very important person to me and has to get to Yorwick urgently. It is safer for you that you not know the full details.’ 
     ‘We are bound northwards,’ said Jules to Ædra. ‘You are welcome to travel with us.’ Jules looked welcoming but the younger Pierre was more reserved in his enthusiasm. 
     ‘I don’t know...’ hesitated Ædra. 
     ‘You will be quite safe with us,’ Jules promised. He looked at Igor again. 
     ‘If you would prefer it,’ the bandit said. ‘It will raise an escort to ensure your safe journey to Yorwick.’ 
     ‘The danger I am in is not one which can be dealt with by force of arms, Igor.’ She looked at Jules and Pierre. ‘I would be proud to accompany such brave men. If you see me safely to Yorwick, I will ensure that you are well rewarded for your trouble.’ 
     ‘With respect, my lady,’ suggested Jules. ‘If we saw through your disguise today, others will also. Insterad of pretending to be a man, why not become my daughter and travel as part of the family La Fleche?’ 
     ‘I would be honoured to become part of your family.’ 
     ‘You must change your name,’ suggested Igor. ‘Ædra is an Anglisc name and would sound out of place in a Gallic family.’ 
     ‘If I might make a suggestion,’ offered Jules. ‘The Gallic equivalent is Andrea. Why not use that name for the time being.’ 
     ‘Very well,’ smiled Ædra. ‘From now on, I will be Andrea la Fleche, daughter and brother to the great acrobats from Gaul.’ 
     Pierre still looked unhappy so Ædra tried to break the ice. ‘Pierre, would you accompany me to Brycg Stowe tomorrow and help to choose clothes for your new sister?’ 
     Pierre looked at his father who beamed. ‘Very well,’ he conceded.


     Brycg Stowe market was very busy as Pierre led Ædra between the stalls of brightly coloured cloths and produce. It was busy because it was the crossing place on the Afon and a ferry also ran across the tidal sandbanks to the land of the Wælas. The Roman town had almost disappeared altogether here, in contrast to Aqua Sulis where the baths and walls remained along with the vast system of aqueducts and pipelines to carry water to the city. The Britons had fortified the town again against the Anglisc who had never penetrated to this part of the island in great numbers. Thus it was that Ædra and Pierre walked among the Britons of many different tribes that sunny morning in early September. 
     ‘What do you suggest I should wear?’ she asked Pierre in an effort to overcome his reticence. The rusty red cloth in her hands was soft and would make a fine over-dress for the autumn. It was not the first attempt Ædra had made to get a conversation going but she felt the need to overcome the attitude of the teenage lad. She held the material to her and awaited his comments. 
     ‘Buy what you like,’ he said with a shrug, more interested in the horses opposite. ‘You are to wear it.’ 
     ‘But I want you to buy it for me,’ she offered. 
     ‘You would not wear what I would choose for you,’ he sneered, ogling two younger girls who passed, dressed in clothes of the Roman style and cut to tease. 
     She turned to face him and looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I will wear whatever you decide upon.’ 
     He smirked. ‘Promise?’ 
     She hesitated, thought of the good it might do and nodded. Grabbing her by the hand, he led her back the way they had come and stopped before a small stall which offered mostly children's’ and teenagers’ clothes for sale. 
     He pointed. ‘That one.’ 
     It was a very short dress in sheer white silk and she observed its skimpiness and translucency. 
     ‘I cannot wear that,’ she whispered. ‘It is not decent.’ 
     ‘You promised,’ he insisted. ‘If you are to become part of the family La Fleche, you must dress like an acrobat. Father and I wear outlandish clothing for our act and you must do the same. You will be the sensation of Britannia.’ 
     ‘I will when I fall out of it,’ she said. ‘It won’t cover very much of me at all and where it does, it is practically see-through.’ She held it in front of herself and received many a strange look from passing merchants. 
     ‘Then you will have to move quickly,’ Pierre said. ‘Don’t give them chance to see anything. Tempt, but offer nothing.’ 
     Ædra looked at him for a long time. He was winding her up and they both knew it. She smiled. She could give as good as she took.
     ‘I will take it,’ she said to the merchant and Pierre, for the first time looked shocked, not expecting this development. 
     He had sought a confrontation with Ædra but, instead, had obtained her agreement. He still had a great deal to learn about King Arthur’s Brood.


     The next morning, Ædra got up early and arrived in the field where Jules and Pierre were already practising. She slipped the cape from her shoulders to reveal her new dress. There was a stunned silence as Jules stared at her, mesmerised by her beauty as Pierre turned a bright shade of red. 
     ‘You... you can’t wear that,’ stammered Jules. 
     ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Pierre bought it for me.’ Father looked daggers at son as suspicion as to the motives for such a choice grew in his heart. Ædra quenched the fire by turning around, her hands above her head. ‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’ 
     Nothing was said for several minutes. 
     ‘Well,’ said Ædra sweetly. ‘Which of you is going to show me what to do?’ 
     Over the next couple of hours, tension relaxed as Ædra became the third member of the troupe and was catapulted high in the air from the end of a plank to land on the shoulders of one of the men. She learned quickly and many of the village began to watch the spectacle. Word travelled fast and, by the weekend, there were hundreds of people who came to watch the daring act. Being light in frame, Ædra was able to be shot much higher as Pierre jumped onto one end of the plank and she landed on Jules’ shoulders. 
     They developed quite a following. As they travelled northwards, they could not help but notice the crowds escorting them from town to town to see this strong father dressed in yellow toss this scantily-clad maiden high into the air. Ædra had, since being a child at Camelot, always been able to turn cartwheels and do handstands and now it was paying off as her deeply suntanned shoulders, arms and long legs flailed around before their eyes. 
     ‘We must do a double somersault,’ declared Ædra one day as they ate a lunch provided by the villagers at Fossebrycg. 
     ‘Double?’ Jules protested. ‘Ædra, that is dangerous. I’m not sure if I can give you enough lift for that.’ 
     No,’ she smiled. ‘But Pierre will, won’t you?’ 
     Pierre said nothing. 
     ‘If you fall you will break your neck,’ Jules warned. 
     ‘If she wants to risk her neck, let her,’ offered Pierre between mouthfuls. 
     She was learning a lot from these two men. She was also learning how to handle them both. Jules would do anything for her if she fluttered her eyelashes and smiled, but to get results from Pierre, she needed a key. 
     It worked. They practiced though Moortun, Landbrycg and Stainleah and, by the time they arrived at Ratæ, the act was perfected. Jules had the power and weight to give the necessary thrust but not the courage. Pierre had the strength and also the tightly coiled up anger that went along with it and made the difference. It was pure “one up-manship” between them, but the crowd loved it and thought it all a part of the act. 
     Over the next couple of weeks, Jules became more worried and careful, Pierre became more arrogant and determined to upstage her and Ædra the “flying fairy” openly teased and publicly flirted with them both during their performance. Their now-massive audience loved it and fought each other for the privilege of being in the forefront and seeing this openly provocative, utterly fearless girl perform stunts that, with every sensual movement, made their hearts flutter. 
     It was turning cold by the time they reached Cæstrafeld and decided to wait for warmer weather. Come the spring, they would continue on though Æscafeld and northwards but, for the time being, they would rest here, financed by the new-found wealth they were accumulating. Tension relaxed as the crowds dissipated and the pressure was off them and it seemed, at long last, that they had become a real family. They had been in Cæstrafeld just a week when, one cold wintry night, Ædra vanished. 

- Mam Tor -

     Jules and Pierre woke as usual and sat down to breakfast at the inn but Ædra did not appear. Puzzled, Jules decided to go and look for her. Leaving Pierre still eating, he knocked on the door to her room, but there was no answer. Heart in mouth, he opened the door but the room was empty. Mystified, he searched through everything, knowing full well that she would be very angry if she caught him searching her room. Still puzzled, he returned to Pierre. 
     ‘Is she there?’ Pierre asked with little interest. 
     ‘No, all Andrea’s things are there, but not her. In fact, it I didn’t know her better, I would have said she had gone off stark naked.’ 
     ‘What do you mean?’ 
     ‘I mean that none of her clothes are missing. They are all in her room, but she is not. In fact, the bed was cold and I would say she had been gone most of the night.’ 
     ‘An affair with the innkeeper, perhaps?’ the young man suggested with a sly smirk. 
     ‘Now go and wash your mouth out, my son. In the weeks we have known her, I have never seen Andrea as much as glance at a man. I suspect that such a liaison is the last thing she could be guilty of.’ 
     ‘Then what other explanation can you offer?’ 
     ‘I can’t.’ He stood up again. ‘I’m going to look for her.’ 
     ‘Try the other bedrooms first,’ suggested Pierre but Jules just glared at his son and collected his bow and bag of arrows. Reluctantly, Pierre followed, similarly armed. 
     They asked about in the village centre and on the road but without success. In the absence of contrary indication, they climbed up the long hill which overlooked the town for a better view. Close by was a shepherd playing on a flute to sheep released onto the long hill between frosts. 
     ‘Pardon, Monsieur,’ said Jules. ‘Have you seen a girl on this road.’ 
     ‘Today?’ he asked. 
     ‘Or last night.’ 
     ‘I seen a ghost last night,’ he declared and Jules looked at Pierre with as straight a face as he could muster. ‘A ghost with dark hair and brown legs.’ They looked again, this time with interest. 
     ‘Which way, Monsieur?’ 
     ‘She went up yon hill as if all the demons in hell was after her, sirs. She was near naked with a white sheet of some sorts around her.’ 
     ‘Thank you,’ they said and quickened their pace uphill until they came to where all the animal tracks ran out at the snow line, and all that could be seen in this bleak land were a pair of small footprints made by running bare feet. Struggling against the wind which grew ever stronger as they climbed, they fought their way onward and onward, higher and higher, onto the hills. Right across the moors, they followed the small indentations in the snow and down into the Deerwent valley beyond. Past tiny settlements, they strode in the wake of the footsteps that never faltered in pace nor direction. 
     They nearly lost her trail at the river but split up and searched until they found where she had clambered from the water and her footsteps followed the bank for several miles before climbing a pointed hill on their right. The wind howled and they struggled along the flat ridge as plumes of snow billowed across their path and hid the track from time to time. On sheltered parts, they found the footprints again and looked along the ridge line which ended in a taller peak with a black face of sheer scree that seemed to shiver in the cold air. 
     ‘Papa,’ called Pierre after hours of trekking. ‘We cannot keep going or we will not be back by nightfall.’ 
     ‘We must, my son. Andrea has been out all night and could be freezing to death at this very moment.’ 
     ‘She may already be dead. I am almost frozen stiff and I have plenty of clothes on.’ 
     ‘We cannot stop,’ his father insisted. ‘We must find her.’ 
     ‘But, father, we can manage without her in the act.’ 
     Jules stopped and angrily turned to face the lad. ‘I will pretend I did not hear you say that. Andrea’s life is at stake, not just an act. She is far more important to me than just a acrobat.’ 
     ‘Have it your own way. I think we should turn back.’ 
     ‘We will keep going until we reach the end of this range of hills,’ Jules conceded. ‘If we have not found her by then, we will seek shelter for the night.’ 
     ‘Very well, papa.’ 
     The view from the ridge was magnificent with a long valley each side and small hamlets beside the rivers and caves in the far hillsides. Ahead, was a great cleft in the land as if an axe had smitten the hillside. Just before it was the tall hill with a stone circle containing several people. 
     ‘It’s Andrea,’ said Jules shielding his eyes from the glare of the low sun on the brilliant white snow. 
     ‘Who is with her?’ asked Pierre. 
     ‘I don’t know.’ He strained to see. ‘It looks like an old man, a young girl and a pregnant woman.’ 
     ‘Let’s find out what this is all about. Climb down and we’ll walk along just below the ridge line, until we get close enough to see and hear.’ 
     ‘Good idea.’

     The old man faced Ædra with age clearly etched on his face. Ædra, in turn, looked at Princess Toreal of Westsæx as she stood with her face averted from the cold wind and then to Toreal’s niece, Princess Roxana of Gododdin, standing, motionless, beside her. 
     ‘Let them go, Merlin,’ said Ædra. ‘They have done you no harm.’ She had to raise her voice above the wind which howled across the top of the Tor, blowing Ædra’s thin nightdress tightly around her body like a second skin. 
     ‘But you have done me harm, haven’t you? You have brought me great pain and I am now dying from it.’ 
     ‘You shouldn’t have taken Daryl away from her mother at Camelot. If you had stayed away from me and my friends, you would not now be hurt.’ 
     ‘But now I have my own children to play with. See, I can bring them great pain.’ He pointed and twelve-year-old Roxana doubled up and rolled about in the snow. 
     ‘Don’t,’ cried Ædra. ‘Take me, instead.’ 
     ‘Why Ædra? I have found out how to hurt you the most, haven’t I? I can hurt you more by bringing pain to others. See how I hurt you again.’ Roxana screamed and writhed. 
     ‘Stop it,’ cried Ædra, her hands over her ears to keep out the dreadful screams. 
     Suddenly, Merlin himself doubled up with pain and Roxana lay very still. 
     ‘You know how to hurt me, too, don’t you Ædra? That barbed arrow-head you left inside me is turning me bad. It was made from lead, wasn’t it?’ 
     She nodded. ‘It is an alloy. Iron for strength, a little lead to cause the rot. You do not have long to live Merlin. Already, it may be too late for you. Why don’t you give up in your stupid attempt at revenge.’ 
     ‘Never,’ he said, straightening despite the pain. ‘If I am to die, I must have a child.’ 
     ‘A child?’ 
     ‘To continue my power, to carry on where I leave off. You must bear my child.’ 
     ‘Me?’ she said incredulously. 
     ‘Of course. I would have had a child from Morgana but she tricked me. Now think of it, Ædra. You and I together, with our powers, could produce a child with the ability to rule the whole world. The evils you fear will be destroyed by him. Trust me, Ædra.’ 
     ‘How can I trust a magician who torments children?’ she sneered with obvious contempt. 
     ‘Not for fun, Ædra, and not just children.’ He walked towards Toreal and Ædra stepped nearer, fear in her heart at what he was planning. Toreal tried to squirm away from him but could not as he went behind her and placed his hands on her belly. 
     ‘No,’ cried the frantic Ædra. ‘Not the baby. Please don’t hurt Toreal’s baby.’ 
     ‘Leave him, Ædra,’ Princess Toreal called bravely. ‘Don’t give in to him, not just for me.’ 
     Tears rolled down Ædra’s cheeks and onto her thin nightdress. ‘I can’t let him hurt your baby, Toreal. I would never forgive myself.’ 
     ‘Well, Ædra?’ asked Merlin. I am waiting for your answer. Do you give me a child? Or do I have to take this one?’ 
     Ædra hesitated. Toreal screamed as he started to dig his fingers in to her belly. 
     ‘You can’t do it, Merlin,’ cried out Ædra. ‘Even the very worst pagans have reverence for a mother and child.’ 
     ‘Then I must take the baby away, mustn't’ t I? Just say the word and I’ll stop.’ 
     ‘I’ll do it,’ said Ædra quickly. 
     ‘I knew you would,’ said Merlin with a smile. Toreal shuddered violently with fear and pain as he stepped away from her. 
     ‘Let them go,’ instructed Ædra. ‘Send them back to their homes.’ 
     ‘Very well,’ he said and turned back to the brave Caledonian Princess. However, between him and Toreal, stood two defiant men with bows drawn and arrows pointed. 
     ‘No,’ cried Ædra. She closed her eyes and summoned all the power she could muster to protect them and Merlin struggled in his weakened condition. 
     ‘Send the girls back, Merlin,’ she cried. ‘Or we will crush you between us. Send them back unharmed.’ 
     Merlin turned suddenly as the first two arrows struck him in the back. He cried out and fell to his knees. 
     ‘Send them back, Merlin, or you will die, here and now, while your power is weakened.’ 
     He shook his head, unable to understand why he was unable to control the situation. ‘How?’ 
     ‘You served my father well but you made a grave error when you took on King Arthur’s Brood. Another arrow now will weaken you still further. Send the girls back, unhurt, and I will spare you.’ 
     ‘But our child?’ 
     ‘We have no child,’ she declared vehemently. 
     ‘You promised. You are a Christian, so you will not break your promise.’ 
     ‘Send the girls back, before it is too late.’ 
     He nodded, then Toreal relaxed from her pain and Roxana stirred on the ground. Ædra watched carefully until they had both gone. 
     ‘If I find out that they are harmed in any way,’ threatened Ædra in the ensuing silence. ‘I will kill you, Merlin, I will crush you and destroy any child that might be conceived. You know I will do it, don’t you?’ 
     He nodded. 
     ‘Devils Hill,’ she said finally. ‘One month from today.’ 
     ‘I might not live that long,’ he said. 
     ‘Too bad,’ replied Ædra. ‘Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.’ 
     ‘I will take them, Ædra. To have a child, I would fight with the devil himself.’ 
     ‘If you hurt any more of my friends, Merlin, you may find me a more terrible master than Beelzebub ever was.’


     Between them, the two men carried Ædra down to the Inn in the valley. After Merlin had gone, she had collapsed and it had taken them all their time to get her down from the hill. 
     ‘What is that place?’ Jules asked the innkeeper. 
     ‘That be Mam Tor, sir. A place where devils and demons do live, I hear tell. Is that where you found yon maiden?’ 
     ‘Yes. She is our friend and she climbed up onto the Tor to save her friends. She is a very brave girl.’ 
     ‘You’d have thought she would have put some clothes on instead of running about in her nightdress,’ he observed. 
     Pierre had stoked up the fire and Ædra lay in front of it, wrapped in blankets, while Jules gently massaged her frostbitten feet and legs. They had been together, like a family, for many weeks but Jules reflected on the fact that he actually knew so very little about this poor, young girl whom the chieftain at Aqua Sulis had called Princess. Was she really a princess? She certainly did not act in the way he had imagined a princess would. She was so...ordinary. Each day, she would rise early and pray for a long time. Then she would prepare food for them and act like any ordinary wife or mother would. They would perform their acrobatic act together as if they had been doing it all their lives and she would amaze everyone with her archery skills. Often, she would entertain the folk with her singing which was clear and strong, and tell stories or parables from the Bible. It was clear that everyone loved her and the same faces could be seen often among the crowds. 
     Jules thought for a moment as he gently rubbed oil into her legs that he, himself, was deeply in love with her. He was old enough to be her father, having a son of seventeen of is own but, even at thirty-five, he was still young, kept so by the daily exercise and activity. 
     Ædra stirred and, with embarrassment, he dropped the blanket over her legs as if he had been caught peeking where he shouldn’t. 
     ‘Jules,’ she said. ‘You have been very good to me.’ 
     ‘Andrea, you are everything to us. I only wish you could see your way to staying with the family...for ever.’ 
     It was clumsy attempt but she got the message and reached down and touched his face very gently. ‘Jules, you are a good man. You followed me to the Tor when others would have abandoned me. You saved my life by caring for me here. I have a lot to be grateful for. However, I cannot wed you, my friend.’ 
     ‘Why not?’ he managed to blurt out, caught off guard. ‘Is it because of your position? If it is, I will admit to keeping from you that I have royal blood myself, being half-brother to Sir Lancelot du Lac.’ 
     She said nothing for several minutes, then told him everything. Sitting up with her hands in his, she spoke of her birth, her power, her trials, her brother, her promise to Merlin, her husband and her son. 
     ‘I am deeply ashamed, Princess,’ Jules said when Ædra had finished relating her story. ‘I had no idea.’ 
     ‘Don’t be ashamed, Jules. I have come to love you and Pierre very much. If I were free, and things were different, I would not hesitate to become your your wife.’ 
     ‘What will you do? About Merlin, I mean?’ 
     ‘I must do as I have promised.’ 
     ‘But your husband...’ 
     ‘Galahad will understand and I will make the sacrifice,too.’ 
     ‘Galahad?’ 
     ‘That is another reason for my not marrying you, my good friend,’ she laughed. ‘You and I are cousins.’ 
     ‘Then things are not so bad, I can still see you from time to time.’ 
     ‘Jules, with your permission, I would stay with you and return to Gaul. I owe you that much.’ 
     ‘But not as my wife.’ 
     ‘Not as your wife but as your daughter. Can you bear that?’ 
     ‘I just want to be near you for a wile. I ask nothing more.’ 
     ‘Good. Then we will stay family. Tomorrow, we will start practising the triple somersault.’ 
     ‘The triple? That would be very dangerous.’ 
     ‘Less dangerous than five minutes with Merlin, I wager.’ They laughed in front of the fire in the inn, Ædra wrapped in blankets, her long legs looking red in the warm fireglow.


     It took three days for her to recover sufficiently to be moved back down to Cæstrafeld where their things were waiting for them. Jules knocked on Ædra’s door at the inn and she bade him enter. 
     ‘Come in, Jules. I am just finishing packing.’ 
     ‘You are going to stay with us, then?’ 
     ‘Of course. I promised, didn’t I? We go first to Æscafeld, then to Burgh Conan, Dauncæstra, Sheerburn, Tadcæstra and Yorwick. From there, I must leave you to head north to meet Merlin.’ 
     ‘You really intend to go through with it?’ 
     ‘I have no choice. If I am not there, he will hurt and perhaps kill many of my friends. I cannot let that happen.’ 
     ‘But the power of which Merlin spoke?’ 
     ‘Power can be directed, not just for evil, but also for good.’ 
     ‘Andrea, you are very brave. It will not be pleasant for you.’ 
     ‘It is a pain I must bear for my friends.’ 
     ‘We will not leave you, Andrea. Pierre and I will come with you to Iarum and help you.’ 
     ‘No. You will try and stop me going through with it.’ 
     ‘Andrea.’ He took her hand in his. ‘It will make me very sad but I will not argue with what you decide.’ 
     ‘Jules.’ She took his face in her long fingers. ‘You are so much like the father I never knew. I would very much like for you to stay with me if you can bear the pain.’ 
     ‘Andrea. I will not leave you, not now, nor ever.’


     The next morning, the trio left the inn and followed the River Rædd northward towards Æscafeld. Though it was still very cold, the sun shone brightly and kept the ice from the slow-moving river’s edges. It was marshy in places and, near a bend in the river, Ædra and Pierre scrambled to the top of the burgh and admired the view of several miles of curved valley. 
     ‘It must be beautiful here in summer,’ prompted Pierre as they sat down on the top of the rounded hill. 
     ‘Yes, I expect so,’ agreed Ædra. ‘Though it is not like Gaul, is it?’ 
     ‘No.’ He shivered. ‘Gaul is much warmer.’ 
     ‘What brought you and your father to Britannia?’ she asked. 
     ‘To get away from memories, I expect. After mother and my younger brother died of the plague, there was nothing to keep us at Poitiers. I guess we just wandered aimlessly for a while, then decided, on the spur of the moment, to try across the water.’ 
     ‘I’m glad you did,’ said Ædra. ‘I would have been lonely without you.’ 
     ‘Andrea, you will always have a following, wherever you go. I know that papa will go with you to the ends of the earth.’ 
     ‘That may not be possible. I do have a husband and child. I would not leave them to live with your father.’ 
     ‘I hope not. You could never replace my mother.’ 
     Ædra was shocked. ‘Pierre, I would not even try. I know you see me as an interference in your family and that you put up with me just for your father’s sake, but I assure you, I will never come between the two of you, I promise.’ 
     ‘You say that now.’ 
     ‘I will always say it, Pierre. I love my husband very much and would never have left him like this unless it was really necessary, he knows that. I also love my son, Paulinus, and hope to return to him soon. I cannot stay permanently in your household, it would not be right.’ 
     ‘How much longer will you need to use us?’ 
     Ædra was horrified. ‘Is that how you see it? You think I am just using you both for my own ends?’ 
     ‘Aren’t you?’ 
     ‘Of course not. I enjoy the company of both of you and we’ve had fun, haven’t we?’ 
     He nodded. 
     ‘If it is what you want,’ she offered; ‘I will go right now.’ 
     ‘What about papa?’ 
     ‘He will understand.’ 
     ‘I just wonder if he really does understand as much as I do. I can see right through your pretence at friendship.’ 
     Ædra stood up and walked to the edge of the hill and looked down to where the birds floated on the marshes around the river. Tears came to her eyes at the thought of having to leave this good couple, but if that was what was for best... A hand touched hers and she turned. 
     ‘I’m sorry,’ Pierre said. ‘Have I hurt you?’ 
     She put her arms round his neck and held him close as she cried. His arms held her tight as they stood there, on top of the hill and relaxed in his arms. It was a mistake. 
     Before she could stop him, he had pulled her to the ground. With one hand, he held her wrists tightly while the other fumbled at her clothing. 
     ‘No, Pierre,’ she cried as she struggled. ‘Don’t do this, please.’
     ‘I must have you,’ he insisted. ‘I need you now.’ 
     Her legs felt cold and she gasped as her skirt was hoisted roughly to her waist and she kicked out in effort to disentangle herself from his clutches. She didn’t want to hurt him but she was determined that she was not going to be raped, here on this cold hillside, by Pierre or anyone else. 
     She had not realised before just how strong he was and her own strength was slight in comparison. His mouth found hers and she could not move as he struggled with his own clothing. She did not want to call out and be the cause of a further rift between this father and son and so, instead, tried desperately to roll away from him. She failed and, suddenly, he was on top of her. 
     ‘No,’ she cried. ‘Please, Pierre.’ 
     ‘Why? Will you send your brother after me to behead me?’ 
     ‘No, I would not do that. It would bring great pain to your father.’ 
     ‘Then give me one good reason why I should not take you, now. You were very willing to give in to that old wizard at Mam Tor. Am I not better than him?’ 
     ‘Pierre,’ she pleaded. ‘I love you much more than Merlin. I hate Merlin, but it is necessary to save lives.’ 
     ‘You are just a whore,’ he spat at her. ‘Available for anyone. Why do you reject me?’ 
     ‘Pierre. I have a husband. He will be very angry if you rape me.’ 
     ‘Then give in and let us enjoy it together.’ 
     ‘No, Pierre. Please do not do this bad thing.’ 
     He looked down at her and his desire did not wane at her comments and pleas. She just lay and shook her head, tears running down her face. 
     ‘I need you,’ he said. ‘And I intend to have you.’ He leaned over her and she closed her eyes. 
     Suddenly, he was gone - dragged from her by the hair - as his father, in his wild fury, pulled him down the slope and threw him bodily into the icy waters of the Rædd. Pierre spluttered, clambered from the water and sat on the bank, shivering. 
     ‘You animal,’ Jules accused. ‘Is this how I have brought you up? To molest young women? Your mother would turn in her grave at what you have done. I am deeply ashamed of you.’ 
     ‘It was not my fault. Andrea begged me to do it. She wanted me to make love to her.’ 
     ‘Do you lie as well as steal what does not belong to you? How will I ever be able to hold up my head again? You have desecrated our family’s name and we shall be cursed for evermore. Get out of my sight. I never want to see you again for the rest of my life.’ 

- Æscafeld -

     Ædra lay still for a long time as she fought to control her emotions. It was not the first time a man had tried to rape her but, somehow, it was something she felt she would rather not get used to. Her feelings were not simply of physical revulsion but produced deep, mental and emotional scars in spite of the fact that the act had not been completed. Just the feeling that someone had thought about it was enough to produce shame and humiliation. 
     A drop of water fell onto her face, prompting her to move from the top of the hill. Straightening her dress, she walked slowly down the hillside with her small bag of belongings as the rain began to fall precipitously from a grey sky. 
     Jules sat, head in his hands, beside the river, oblivious to the water running down his neck and soaking his clothes. Ædra walked down to him, touched his shoulder gently and he looked up, his own shame and sorrow etched into the lines of his face. He opened his mouth but Ædra placed her finger against his lips and sat down beside him, her head on his shoulder. In silence, they sat together as a combination of wind and rain made ever-changing patterns on the flat waters of the Rædd. 
     An hour later and totally soaked to the skin, they walked along the river bank towards a distant mill-house. It was getting dark early and there was no light from the mill which had a broken wheel, a sluice half washed away by flooding and the large, oak door hanging off its hinges. Pushing inside, they managed to wedge the door half closed and tried to light a fire. Fortunately, the straw was fairly dry and Jules had a piece of flint in his bag. Soon, they sat together before a big fire, their clothes hanging from a rafter, steaming in the heat. 
     'Where did Pierre go?' Ædra finally asked. 
     'I sent him away.' 
     It was a while before she spoke again. 'I'm sorry.' 
     'You're sorry? why should you be sorry?' 
     'I came into your lives and split up your family. I tried not to do that.' 
     'It was not your fault, Andrea.' 
     'It would not have happened if I had not been here. I feel so dreadful about it.' 
     'Don't,' he said, touching her face. 'It is not necessary.' 
     She shrugged. 'I just wish I could make it up to you.' 
     He put his arm around her bare shoulders. 'What I need, you cannot give.' 
     'Jules.' She looked up at him, the pattern of the fireglow reflected onto their faces. 'Does it really mean that much to you?' 
     'My dear Andrea. Since my wife died, three years ago, I have never looked at another woman until now. I have to admit I am deeply in love with you.' He paused and sighed. 'If only things were different.' 
     'Jules, I love you too. But you know I will not break my husband's trust.' 
     'I would never have expected you to,' he confirmed. 'I was loyal to my to my Bernice as she was to me. I would expect nothing less from another.' 
     They sat together for some time without saying a word, the crackling of the fire the only sound in that deserted mill. The wind had died down and the rain now reduced to a mere drizzle as the last of the grey day drifted from the evening sky. As the fire abated a little, Ædra pulled the blanket from around her own body and enclosed Jules in its folds as they huddled together for warmth, thoughts of illicit passion far from their minds.

     It was raining again as Ædra awoke, wondering where she was. She looked down at Jules for a moment before covering his bare chest with the blanket and standing up to see if their clothes were dry. Jules' thick coat and jerkin were still damp but her own dress was almost dry as she slipped it over her head and tied it at the waist. 
     Struggling with the flints, she managed to rekindle the fire and went in search of food. In the old garden behind the mill, she found the remnants of some sprout plants and pulled off half-eaten leaves and carried them back inside. Passing through the doorway, she saw the bird leave its nest and went to investigate. In the nest were three eggs. Leaving one for the hen, she took the others with a feeling of guilt and made a small breakfast for them both. 
     When the eggs were cooked, she bent over Jules and kissed his cheek gently, making him stir. He smiled at her for a moment and for some totally unexplainable reason, she felt a great urge to forget her stand of the previous night and snatch off her dress. Instead, she stood up suddenly and went to the fire to rescue the meal. 
     A hand rested on each of her shoulders as Ædra struggled with her inward emotions. Although she knew it was very wrong, she desperately wanted to turn to this strong man behind her and try to compensate for the loss of his son. With a degree of self-control she did not believe herself capable of, she forced herself to turn and present Jules with egg and greens along with a little rye bread they brought with them. 
     'Thank you,' he said, suspecting what she was going through. 
     'That's what I am here for,' she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful. 
     'Now there's just the two of us.' He sat down with sadness. 
     'We must get Pierre back,' said Ædra firmly, sitting cross-legged before the fire. 
     Jules was adamant. 'I will not have him back.' 
     'But you must,' pleaded Ædra. 'He is your son.' 
     'Not any more. Not after what he did to you.' 
     'He didn't succeed,' Ædra made clear to him. 
     'But he tried, didn't he?' Jules said. 'I cannot forgive him for that.' 
     'You must,' she said. 'How can I do my triple somersault without him?' The tension broke and they both laughed. 
     'Jules, we cannot stay together like this,' Ædra said. 'I am not as strong as I thought I was.' 
     'Nor I, Andrea. We must part before we do something we will both regret.' 
     'You are very sweet, Jules.' She looked out the small window. 'It has stopped raining. We must leave and find Pierre.' 
     'No.' 
     'Then I will find him alone. I cannot have this thing hanging between us. If I do not bring you back together, I will never be able to live with myself.' 
     'I will not beg him to return.' 
     'Then I will do it for you.' 
     'How? You must hate him.' 
     'I do not hate your son. I love him like a brother. It was my fault that he went away, so it must be me who ensures he returns.' 
     'How will you do it?' 
     'I don't yet know, but I must, for all our sakes.'


     The old Roman villa near Burgh looked lonely and derelict as Ædra walked across the broken mosaic floor between the lumps of smashed masonry and broken-down pillars. One capital was still intact and cast a long shadow across the uneven floor as the sun peeked between the grey clouds. It was near the marshy ground at the junction of the rivers that she found Pierre casting stones into the waters of the Danu. Sensing her presence, he stopped and looked over his shoulder as she stood a few yards away, watching him. 
     'I suppose you want me to apologise, do you?' 
     'No,' she said. 'Not to me.' 
     This surprised him and he turned to fully face her as she stood, her hands clasped in front of her, her hair now streaked from the wetness of the rain. 
     'What has happened to your hair?' he asked with an amused expression on his face. 'It has gone a funny colour.' 
     She put her hand to it and it came away stained. 'The dye is coming out. I must re-do it or I will be recognised.' 
     'Where is father?' 
     'He has gone to Æscafeld to arrange rooms for us.' 
     'Us.' 
     'The three of us.' 
     'A double bedroom for the two of you, I suppose.' He violently threw another pebble into the river, startling a couple of waders. 
     'Is that what you think?' she asked. 
     'I don't think, I know so. I, too went to the mill to shelter and I saw you both there before the fire, almost naked. I know what you have been up to together and hate you for it. You reject my advances but take my father and seduce him with your alluring little body. Well, I'm not coming back, not to play in the kitchen while you two make a complete fool of me in the bedroom.' 
     'It's not like that,' she said quietly. 
     'Not like what? I was right yesterday. You are a whore, a wanton, shameless slut. I ought to kill you for what you've done to father and I. We were happy before you came along and forced your advances on him. I hate you, I really detest you.' 
     Ædra did not move, even when he stepped close to her and she felt his anger cross the gap between them. Even when he raised his fist to her face, she did not flinch. He shouted at her, threatened her, even put his strong hands around her neck and she felt the pressure of his thumbs against her windpipe. She knew he only had to press a little and she would be no more. She simply looked up into his brown eyes with her own blue ones. 
     'You're not even worth killing,' he said, wrenching his hands from her. 'What do you want me to do?' 
     'I want you to hold me in your arms.' 
     He was angry as he turned. 'Do you take me for a complete fool?' 
     'Not at all,' she said quietly. 'I take you for what you are, a very good friend. I know you will not believe me when I say that nothing happened between your father and I last night, but it is the truth. I love you both but will never seduce either of you. I want you both but will never betray the trust my husband has placed in me.' 
     'You say that now, but you are willing to let that slimy wizard touch you. You will let him him put his hands all over you and take you and you will have his child.' 
     'Do you think so?' she asked. 'Do you believe I will really let that pervert take me and give me a child I do not want?' 
     This stopped him in his tracks. 'But you promised him, I heard you.' 
     'I promised to meet him at Devil's Hill. I promised to provide him with a child. I did not say how.'


     Arm in arm, they walked past the ruins of the Roman fort towards Carrbrook and, by early afternoon, they were in Æscafeld. Ædra pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders as the wind blew around the small collection of houses close to the inn and puckered the surface of the water where a boat was loading barley for cattle feed. The sun had gone behind a cloud once again and it looked as if the sky was full of snow. 
     Pushing the door open, they walked into the inn and confronted Jules. Ædra watched and almost cried as father and son embraced and then ordered ale. Turning outside, she sat on the low wall and hummed to herself as she watched a robin hop along the edge of the roof. In just ten days, she must be at Iarum and there was much to do in the meantime. Tomorrow, they would perform in the village square and then press on to Burgh Conan and Dauncæstra.
     It was while she was thinking of the events ahead, that she thought she saw a familiar figure among a small group of people climbing down from the back of a wagon a short distance away. Getting to her feet, she threw the end of her shawl over her shoulder and stepped closer as the people were being herded into a big barn. 
     Two Anglisc men closed the door firmly and sneered. 'Do you want to join them?' 
     'Join them?' she queried, her head at an angle. 
     He grabbed her arm and drew her close but she had correctly read his intentions was ready for him. Twisting her body round, she ducked under his arm and a yelp of pain came from him as his arm was twisted further than it was designed to go. He fell to his knee, clutching his shoulder and the other man decided that caution was the better part of valour. She may be just a young girl but she had spirit. However, he began to think, girls with spirit fetched a good price. 
     'What are you doing?' she asked the second man as the brute moved a little distance away. 
     'Preparing for the market tomorrow,' he replied carefully. 
     'What have these people got to do with that?' she queried, beginning to suspect the worst. 
     'They are the market, my dear. They are to be sold.' 
     'They are slaves?' 
     'Of course. What did you think?' 
     'But slavery is banned in this kingdom.' 
     'It was until the Queen went and got herself killed. Since then, few take her laws very seriously.' 
     'But if you make slaves of the Britons, they will rebel, there will be war.' 
     'Oh, a moralist, eh? Be careful you do not join them.' 
     'Set them free,' she commanded, ignoring his threat. He was stunned. She stepped right up close. 'Do it.' 
     'The boss would kill me if I even tried to.' 
     'Who is this boss?' 
     'Henry of Attercliffe. He buys and sells the slaves.' 
     Ædra turned on her heel and the men stared after her in amazement, still not believing it had happened. Who was this girl? Why did she hate slavery so much? She was quite obviously not just a simple peasant, so why was she so concerned for the welfare of these ignorant Britons who were fit for nothing else? They looked at each other and shrugged. It was probably nothing to worry the boss about. 
     'I wonder who she is,' the first man said. 'She's certainly not from round here.' 
     'Does it matter?' 
     'It will if I get my hands on her again. I'll teach her to play around with me. Let me know if you see her coming this way again.' 
     'Why?' 
     'Because it's getting dark soon and I intend she should pay for her insolence.' 
     'What will you do?' 
     'I'll make the little bitch wish she had never been born. I'm going to break her pretty little neck. But first,' he said with a sly sneer; 'I'm going to have a bit of fun with her before she pleads for death.' The gesture he made clearly conveyed just how he intended to get this "fun" and his companion laughed. 
     Ædra entered the inn and sought out her friends. Eyes watched her carefully as she crossed the floor and squeezed in between the two men and put her arms around them both. 
     'Don't get too drunk,' she whispered, still smiling. 'I need your help.' 
     'How?' Jules asked. Ædra explained.


     Two drunken men staggered out of the inn into the deserted market place and made their way towards the big barn. Pausing in front of it to laugh and dance around for a moment, they then passed on to the smiles of the two men who guarded the barn and its human merchandise. It grew quiet again as the drunkards vanished into the darkness and the men continued their conversation and the game they were playing on an old log. 
     A few moments later, the pretty dark-haired girl left the inn and looked both ways as the men saw her. One of them touched the leg of the other who looked up and smiled to himself. Rising slowly, he made his way way into the deep shadows at the side of the barn. He smiled as he saw that Ædra was going to pass by just a few feet from where he waited, poised, in the darkness, his desire growing at the thought of what he was about to do. 
     Ædra had almost walked past the barn when he struck, dragging her into the deep shadows, his hands holding her arms and stifling the scream which started in her throat. A great pain ran up her back as she was slammed against the wattle and the blow to her face rendered her almost unconscious. As though in a thick fog, she heard his heavy breathing and smelled the ale on his breath. Ædra's legs were like jelly as she tried to struggle but was unable until he grunted and slipped, as if in slow motion, to the ground. Pierre dragged his limp form further into the shadows while Jules held her for a moment until she nodded to him. 
     'Are you sure you want to go through with this?' he whispered. 
     'I must,' she re-affirmed, rubbing her jaw. 
     'Are you all right?' 
     'Just give me a moment and I'll be all right. Are you prepared?'
     'Of course,' Jules confirmed. 'Ready when you are.' 
     Ædra nodded and slowly followed Jules around to the rear of the building. Carefully, she tucked up her long dress into her waistband and stepped onto the end of the plank. In the darkness, she could just see Jules standing opposite her and her heartbeat quickened as she saw the shape of Pierre climb onto his fathers shoulders. 
     'Ready?' Jules whispered. 
     'Go,' said Ædra softly and, a second later, she was flying. Over and over she turned, hoping they had got the power and direction right. 
     Her bare feet landed softly on the cill of the baulk and she grasped the side of the frame for support and her head went giddy as she saw the two faces looking up at her in the poor light. 
     'Five minutes,' she whispered and turned into the upper doorway. 
     The straw was soft under her toes as she inched her way forward, unsure of the dimensions of the hay loft. Dropping to her knees, she crept forward until her fingers felt the wooden beam which marked the edge. Carefully, Ædra lay down flat on her stomach, her body from the waist upwards jutting out over empty space as she peered into the dark void below, desperately trying to identify the ground level and if there were any shapes below her. Seeing nothing, she launched herself, head first, into space. Her legs came over her head and she was hanging in mid air from her arms unsure of the distance between her feet and the ground. She would have to risk it. Opening her fingers, she let go and, to her surprise, strong hands gripped her around the waist and lowered her gently to the ground. Turning, she identified the shape of a large man next to her as she tried to get all her bearings. 
     'Who are you?' he whispered. 
     'I am Ædr...Andrea of Gaul. I have come to set you free.' 
     'That may not be easy. The door is firmly bolted and there are two guards outside as well as other interested parties at the inn.' 
     'How many of you are there?' 
     'There are...' he calculated; 'Eleven of us. I am Donald.' 
     'Where is the girl from Yorwick?' 
     'Yorwick?' 
     'Ebor, Yorwick. In the north.' 
     'There is no-one here from Yorwick.' 
     'A dark-haired girl, brown eyes, pregnant.' 
     'Oh you mean the deaf and dumb girl they picked up in Eadael.'
     'Where is Eadael?' 
     'Beyond Bamfordd, near the Tor.' 
     'Mam Tor?' she breathed. 
     'That's what some call it. The shimmering mountain where the demons do live.' 
     'Yes,' she said vehemently. 'I've met them.' 
     'Pardon, My Lady.' 
     'Nothing. Where is she?' 
     'In the far corner.' 
     'Can you wake the others while I talk to her?' 
     'Of course, though it will do no good.' 
     'Trust me,' said Ædra and he did. 
     Ædra knelt before the still form and gently lifted her head, smoothing the hair from the girl's face with her long fingers. Even in the poor light, she could see the eyes opened wide, staring at her. As if recognising something, the girl shrank deeper into the corner, trying to get away from the ghost. 
     'You're dead,' she said, obviously petrified to the core. 
     'Don't you go believing everything you read on tombstones,' said Ædra and her friend broke down and cried, clutching tightly at her shoulders in the darkness. 
     Eventually, the crying abated and Ædra dried the tears from her ex-Maid of Honour's face with her own chemise. 
     'What happened to you?' Ædra eventually asked. 
     'I don't know,' she whispered. 
     'You must remember something.' 
     'I remember waking up,' said Gwyndora. 'I was cold and on top of a bleak hill.' She shuddered at the memory. 'A great evil was there.' 
     'Merlin,' clarified Ædra. 
     'Tell me about Merlin,' pleaded Gwyndora. 
     Ædra did and the young mother-to-be sat in silence for some time. 'Then my baby is his.' 
     'I fear so,' confirmed Ædra. 'But never mind. I am going to look after you from now on.' 
     A hand came upon her shoulder. 'We are ready,' said Donald. 
     'Very well,' said Ædra and felt her way to the back of the barn and tapped softly on the wall. A few moments later, there was the sound of drunken men approaching. They greeted the guard briefly before silence fell except for the scuffling noises outside. After what seemed like an eternity, there was a clinking of chains and the big doors opened admitting a triumphant Jules and Pierre. 
     'Can you see them all home?' Ædra asked Donald. 
     'Naturally,' he replied. 'How can we thank you?' 
     'By not getting caught again,' replied Ædra. 'I will look after my friend if you take the wagon and see the others safe.' 
     'It will be done, My Lady,' he replied and ushered the thankful people out and finally, away into the darkness. 
     'Help me with my friend,' Ædra asked Pierre while Jules stood guard outside. 
     As they approached the shadow, they heard a low moan and a long gasp as Ædra rushed forward. She was too late. Gwyndora's eyes were still wide open but the life had gone from them as it had from the rest of her body. 
     As Ædra knelt beside her, the dagger fell from Gwyndora's hand and the blood could clearly be seen all over the dagger and her hands. Pierre lay the girl down carefully and Ædra saw the mess and turned quickly away to be violently sick. There was blood everywhere, on the wall, on the floor and all over her body from where she had repeatedly stabbed and slashed at her belly in an attempt to rip Merlin's evil brood from her womb. 

- Slave Market -

     Pierre carried Ædra’s limp from out into the market place to where his father stood guard as the wagon’s last sounds faded into the night. 
     ‘What’s wrong with Andrea?’ Jules asked, looking around in the darkness. ‘And where is the other girl?’ 
     Pierre shook his head and stumbled on with Ædra in his arms while the other man carried their belongings into the still darkness. After almost a mile, they paused besides the river and Pierre fought for his breath while Jules held a cup of water to Ædra’s lips. She choked a little as her senses returned. 
     ‘Where are we?’ she asked eventually, avoiding the subject of the mutilated Gwyndora. 
     ‘On the road to Dauncæstra. About a mile from Æscafeld.’ 
     The moon had just risen and the mist hanging over the river seemed eerie in that pale light and the effect was worsened by an owl which hooted in the nearby copse. 
     ‘I’m sorry,’ said Jules. 
     ‘About what?’ 
     ‘About your friend.’ 
     ‘I killed her,’ said Ædra. 
     Pierre glanced at his father briefly. ‘No you didn’t,’ he said to her. ‘She did it herself. You were with me at the time.’ 
     ‘I shouldn’t have told her about Merlin being her child’s father. The knowledge killed her.’ 
     Jules looked straight at her. ‘She was carrying Merlin’s child?’
     Ædra nodded. 
     ‘Then perhaps it was for the best,’ he replied. Ædra said nothing but made a firm promise in her heart. 
     ‘We must find somewhere to rest,’ said Jules. ‘It is a long walk to Dauncæstra in the morning.’ 
     ‘You are right,’ agreed Ædra. ‘We must find shelter out of this cold wind.’ 
     Getting to their feet, they followed the river for a while until they could walk no more. They were about to give up and sleep in the open when the shape of a barn loomed out of the darkness and mist ahead of them. Exhausted, they collapsed inside and the three of them slept, snuggled together for warmth. 
     The morning brought a heavy fog that permeated to every corner of the countryside, enveloping all in a grey shroud that was cold and damp to the bones. Ædra stirred in the deathly silence where not even the early bird made a sound. Unable to move, she opened her eyes to observe that she was sandwiched firmly between the two men, both their arms held protectively across her body. 
     She smiled to herself for a moment before remembering all the events of the previous day. Merlin had taken Gwyndora despite his promise to spare her friends. Or had he? Her pregnancy had been well advanced. Had he tricked her? Had he known who she was all along and had taken her own Maid of Honour whilst she herself had been still in Gaul, even before their confrontation on the Tor? What else had Merlin been up to? She had to get to Ædred at Yorwick quickly to find out. 
     As carefully as possible, she got to her feet and stretched. It seemed that every joint ached from that night on the cold, hard ground as she walked around to get her circulation going again. Peering out of the doorway of the barn, she saw the thick mist that hung over the river. Slowly, she walked down to the water’s edge and dropped to her knees on the frozen ground. The water was not all frozen and so she scooped a little in her hands and drank, splashing some onto her face. 
     As Ædra stood up, she wiped the excess water onto her sleeve and re-opened her eyes. She wished she hadn’t. Standing in front of her was a group of men, looking decidedly ugly in the poor light. The leader sat upon a black horse which shook its head, breathing clouds of steam from its nostrils. 
     ‘Is this the one?’ he asked of no-one in particular. 
     ‘It is,’ replied the one with the cloths wrapped around his head, his teeth an evil grin in the grey light. ‘She is the one who freed the slaves. Her friends must be in the barn.’ 
     The leader nodded and several of the men turned towards the barn door, their short swords in their hands. 
     ‘So, my pretty,’ said the leader, leaning forward over the saddle of is horse. He beckoned. ‘Come closer so that I can see how much you are likely to fetch at the market today.’ 
     ‘W...what do you mean?’ Ædra stammered as Jules and Pierre were dragged bodily from the barn, sleep still dulling their senses. 
     ‘The slave market.’ He sat up straight on his mount, his grey beard matted with dew from the mist. ‘You set my other slaves free last night. You must take their place.’ 
     ‘You are Henry of Attercliffe?’ Ædra asked tentatively. 
     ‘You know my name? That is good. Where you are likely to be going, you are not going to forget that name for a very long time.’ He turned to his men. ‘Make sure they are bound securely and bring them along. We mustn’t keep the customers waiting, must we?’ He made to turn his horse. 
     ‘Sir Henry,’ said the man with the bandaged head. ‘I have a personal score to settle with the girl.’ He glanced towards the barn which had been Ædra’s resting place for the night. Henry of Attercliffe laughed aloud and the horrible sound echoed around the trees that lined the river. 
     ‘So you have,’ he said. ‘Take her then, Michael. Use her as you wish. I will meet you at Æscafeld for the market.’ 
     ‘Thank you, Sir Henry.’ He grasped Ædra’s arm firmly. Pierre and Jules tried to struggle free to help her but were securely bound and Jules received a vicious blow on his back for his trouble. 
     ‘Don’t be late for the market, Michael,’ Henry of Attercliffe said to his man as he, along with two others, dragged the defiant Ædra towards the barn. ‘Make sure you not damage her too badly where it will show, else her price will drop.’

     For the first time in a long while, Ædra was really frightened. She didn’t know precisely what it was he was going to do to her but one thing was certain - he intended to hurt her badly and, perhaps prevent her meeting her deadline with Merlin. 
     ‘Let me go and I’ll pay you well,’ she pleaded quietly. 
     ‘You?’ he said with a laugh that caused a chill finger to run up her spine. ‘What do you have that could interest me?’ 
     ‘I have gold,’ she said frantically as the men took her arms. 
     ‘Don’t make me laugh,’ he replied. 
     However, the older man suddenly asked. ‘How much?’ 
     ‘One hundred Krone,’ she offered, searching his eyes for a hint of agreement. 
     ‘One hundred krone?’ he spluttered. ‘That’s a king’s ransom. Where would you a wench like you find a hundred krone?’ 
     ‘My brother has money. He will pay you if you do not harm me.’ 
     ‘And what if we do not accept?’ asked Michael, not to be easily done out of his pleasure. 
     ‘Then he will track you down and kill you,’ she replied simply. 
     ‘If you think I am scared of some peasant brother of yours, think again, slut.’ 
     ‘My brother is no peasant.’ 
     She paused. Dare she tell them who she really was? Perhaps the time had come to use whatever means were necessary to prevent this situation developing any further. It was not just herself she was concerned for. 
     ‘My brother,’ she said carefully, ‘is the King of Deira. 
     There was a shocked silence. ‘King Ædred is Anglisc,’ young Paul declared. ‘How can you be is sister?’ 
     ‘Rinse my hair,’ she said, pleaded with him. ‘You will find that I, too, am part Anglisc.’ 
     ‘Part Anglisc?’ asked Garrod. 
     ‘My father was King Arthur of Camelot.’ 
     ‘King Arthur?’ exclaimed Paul. ‘Then you...’ 
     ‘I am Princess Ædra of Camelot.’ 
     ‘Princess Ædra...?’ said Paul, fear deeply engraved on his face. He looked at Michael. ‘You can’t hurt her, she is Queen of Britannia.’ 
     ‘What are we going to do?’ asked Garrod. 
     ‘For a start, I am going to find out if she is telling the truth.’ Michael turned to Paul. ‘Fetch me water.’ 
     While Paul was gone, Michael and the older man huddled in the corner, discussing what should be done. Eventually, Paul brought in water and all was revealed. Dark streaks ran down Ædra’s face and Paul wiped her cheeks carefully. 
     ‘Forgive me, your Majesty,’ he said with bowed head. Ædra looked into his eyes. He was yet little more than a boy and all this was obviously too much for him. 
     ‘What shall we do?’ asked Garrod. 
     ‘We could offer her for ransom,’ suggested Michael. ‘If her brother will pay one hundred krone, maybe he will pay more for her.’ 
     ‘We must let her go,’ said the boy. 
     ‘Let her go?’ said Garrod. ‘Are you out of your mind? We have a gold mine here.’ 
     Ædra sat up and looked at Paul. ‘I will pay you two hundred krone if you will help me.’ 
     ‘Two hundred?’ Garrod turned to Michael. ‘If you turn this down, you are crazy.’ 
     ‘Crazy I might be but I intend to get my own back for what happened at Æscafeld. Perhaps it is time I found out what it is like to ravage a beautiful princess.’ He smiled. ‘Hold her down, we’ll decide what to do with her when I have found out how good she is.’
     ‘No,’ said Paul, standing. 
     ‘Don’t be stupid, boy,’ said Garrod. ‘If Henry hears you have disobeyed Michael, he will take you away your freemanship. Is that what you want?’ 
     Paul drew his sword and stood over Ædra’s prone form. ‘You will not touch her.’ 
     Michael drew his own sword.’ It looks as if I must teach the boy a lesson, Garrod. He is getting too big for his boots.’ 
     Paul stepped from Ædra and circled warily, Michael confident of a quick victory at a form of combat he was obviously skilled at. Ædra held her breath as master and apprentice faced each other, neither of them prepared to give way and lose face. Ædra and Garrod watched the duel, she still on the ground, Garrod crouched nearby, keeping her in the corner of his eye. 
     The first exploratory thrusts made a lot of noise but brought no blood as Paul bravely fought not only for Ædra but for his own life. They were fairly evenly matched. Paul’s youth and vitality made up for his lack of experience in battle. Swords clashed and breath came out in gasps as each thrusted and parried and their breath hung on the air like a mini-fog. 
     First one then the other gained the upper hand as the swords swung in their arcs and the men ducked and weaved away from the scything death. At one point, Ædra thought all was lost. Paul fell and Michael raised his sword for the killing blow but Paul managed to wriggle free with only a minor injury. It was now a matter of honour and Michael was not prepared to back down or accept anything less than the death of this young whipper-snapper who had dared to defy him over a mere wench who claimed to be a Princess but who, to him, amounted to no more than a few moments pleasure followed by a cash redemption. Garrod moved. 
     ‘Look out!’ shouted Ædra as Garrod drew his dagger and advanced on Paul from behind. 
     Paul turned slightly and had to leap for his life as Michael brought his sword slashing down, inches from his face. Ædra had no time to get up so just rolled across the ground until she was behind Garrod who had his dagger at the ready. Aiming as she rolled, she jabbed out with her feet and caught him behind the knees, bringing him down to her level. 
     His face as a mask of hatred as he turned, dagger in his hand. Frantically, Ædra rolled away from him and leapt nimbly to her feet. The dagger came nearer as she backed up against the wall, death staring her in the face. He jabbed, she ducked and they were both on the floor again, Garrod grabbing for her neck, pinioning her arms under his great weight. Only her legs were free as his dagger arm was raised to slash at her belly. 
     Ædra pulled her knees up sharply, wrapping one leg round his neck, twisting to avoid the downward-plunging blade. Locking her ankles, she rolled her body sharply out of its murderous trajectory and his head was not designed to move that far off the vertical. The sound of his neck breaking caused Michael to turn. 
     Distracted, he hesitated and lost his battle as Paul’s sword caught him across the chest, and blood gushed from the gaping wound. Open-mouthed in disbelief, he fell to his knees and stared at Ædra for what seemed like eternity before pitching forward across Garrod’s already still form.


     The slave market was in full swing in Æscafeld as Ædra was pushed forward into the market place. The rope on her hands was biting into her soft skin as she staggered, with head bowed, toward where Pierre and Jules stood with several others. The crowd hushed as she stumbled up into the raised platform, assisted by the point of Paul’s sword. As she fell to her knees, Jules tried to push forward to help her, only to receive a blow for his trouble. The boy stood her in line with the other slaves. 
     ‘The merchandise is not too badly damaged, I hope,’ whispered Henry of Attercliffe. 
     ‘Not where it will show,’ grinned Paul. 
     ‘And where is Michael?’ 
     ‘Recovering, Sir Henry.’ 
     Henry of Attercliffe roared with laughter. ‘He must have had a good time. Did he let you have a go, boy?’ 
     ‘Certainly not,’ said Paul, blushing. 
     ‘You will learn, boy. Women are designed for one thing and one thing only.’ 
     Paul tried to edge away but Henry held his attention for a while longer. ‘The bidding is too low at the moment. Perhaps she will liven things up a bit.’ 
     ‘Perhaps so, Sir Henry.’ 
     He bent his head low to Paul. ‘When the bidding gets to her, ensure that her best assets are displayed to the full.’ 
     ‘It shall be done, Sir Henry.’ 
     There were upwards of score of men who had come to buy slaves and they made their careful examination as the grey sky above threatened snow. Ædra raised her eyes to the heavens and prayed a little as the auctioneer prepared to start his sales warm-up. 
     ‘Are you all right?’ whispered Pierre as he stood beside her. He was feeling distraught at what was about to happen when something cold touched his wrist. He jumped a little but did not move as he felt the bonds around his wrists go slack and something hard was placed into the palm of his hand. Trying not to seem interested, he got the message and swayed away from his Princess and surreptitiously slipped the sharp dagger into his surprised father’s hand. A boy edged his way around to the back of the curtained stage and climbed up the sacking at the back, resting the three bows and bags of arrows against the partition which ran along one side. 
     Ædra appeared not to notice that Paul drew his sword carefully from behind Henry of Attercliffe. She shook her head slightly. The auction continued and Ædra carefully noted the ten or so men who took part in the bidding for slaves. Eventually, they got to her and she held her head high in defiance of the crowd. Her streaked hair looked odd but no-one was looking at her hair. Her strong arms promised hard work - her figure, pleasure for the nights. 
     Five more men entered the area and, eventually, she was sold to a balding man from Berernsleah. He stepped forward with the money but Ædra stooped and picked it up. There was a shocked silence for several minutes as no-one moved except Ædra who collected all the bags of gold and currency from the flabbergasted auctioneer. Sir Henry was the first to move, but not far. The sword at his throat tended to defy further bravery as Paul smiled at him. 
     ‘You traitor,’ Henry said. 
     ‘A very rich traitor,’ agreed Paul. 
     Several other men began to protest and some swords were drawn. It was the bows which appeared, as if by magic, in the hands of Jules and Pierre that defied more positive action. Ædra stepped to the edge of the platform. 
     ‘I want all those who were bidding brought here before me,’ she commanded. 
     Bows and swords encouraged the dozen or so men to be herded forward. Henry was added to the group. 
     ‘You are guilty of slave trading,’ Ædra said to the bidders. ‘From henceforth, all your estates are confiscated and used as common land by the poor.’ 
     There were murmurs of disagreement. 
     ‘All who do not agree, die now.’ 
     There was silence again. 
     ‘By what authority do you act?’ asked one. 
     ‘By the authority bestowed upon me by God and King Ædred of Deira. I hereby appoint Paul of Walkleah as Eolderman here. You slavers are exiled with immediate effect. If you return to this kingdom, you will be executed immediately.’ 
     ‘You cannot do this,’ shouted Henry of Attercliffe. 
     ‘Can’t I?’ Ædra jumped down from the platform and turned to face him. ‘Henry of Attercliffe, for your activities as slave trader and other crimes of which you are noted, I hereby sentence you to death by hanging.’ 
     ‘But...’ 
     Ædra looked at Pierre and Jules. ‘Hang him.’ 
     It was certainly a deterrent. The other slavers had vanished before the legs of Henry of Attercliffe had finished twitching. 
     ‘If I hear of one single case of slavery this area again,’ said Ædra to the people of Æscafeld. She held up her index finger. ‘Just one and I will return here and destroy you all.’ 
     She handed Paul the bags. ‘Take your two hundred krone from these bags for your first year’s wages. I will instruct my brother to see it that you are rewarded for your future loyalty. The remainder of the money must go to the poor people. I want a new hall constructed and the market area totally rebuilt. When I return, I will expect to see a thriving community. I am putting a great trust in you, Sir Paul of Walkleah. Do not let me down.’ 
     ‘Why do you trust me?’ asked Paul. 
     ‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘You have been the companion of a most unsavoury character for most of your life. One who would, I am sure, have done me great harm if we had let him. However, men do change and I shall expect you to set the lead. I want Christianity to be established here soon and, when it is, you will remain as Theign, if you have proved that you deserve the honour. I see some good in you, Paul of Walkleah. Don’t abuse the trust I am placing in you.’ 
     ‘Your Majesty,’ the young man said with a bow. ‘You can depend upon me.’ 

- Yorwick -

     The road to Dauncæstra was not a long one and they had reached the old Roman city by nightfall. En route, they had stopped briefly at Burgh Conan where her grandfather had died in battle with her own father almost forty years earlier. The fort had never been rebuilt and lay in ruins atop the hill ovlooking the river and the small village beside it. Of the grave of her grandfather, there was no sign, the mounds of stone and earth where the fort had been the only monument of the great battle which had started the chain of events which had led to her own birth in Camelot. 
     The people were very hospitable and offered them lunch in return for a display of their archery skills. Afterwards, the local children danced to an old man puffing on a sort of flute. 
     Dauncæstra, however, was an entirely different kettle of fish. Being probably the oldest town in the north of Britannia, it had been an important town even prior to the coming of the Romans. The Celts had built a base here to guard the river from invasion and the site had been the obvious location for a fortress when the Romans had arrived. Changing the name to Danum, they had built a strong fortress beside the River Cheswold on a loop of the Daun, and established themselves on the main route between Londinium and Eboracum. 
     Dauncæstra was a very cosmopolitan city. When the Romans had left, the Britons retained the city as their local capital, one of the few cities where this was done. Seaxons who had enlisted as mercenaries in the Roman army had stayed on here, as they had in the south, after the last of the Romans had left the area. Over the course of the previous fifty years, they had been joined by a number of Anglisc refugees driven from their lands by the Huns and Goths. 
     The town planning established by the Romans had been long abandoned and houses of all sorts spread along the roads of the town towards the villages of Wheatleah, Cantleah and Rossingtune. Across the river, a small community had built up at Bentleah. 
     Lodgings were expensive as inkeepers took advantage of the travellers up and down Dere Street, the Great North Road, but the trio managed to find rooms before darkness fell. Having lost the inclination to re-dye her hair, it was now almost entirely fair again as the mists and drizzles of December played their part in keeping them all damp at nights. 
     Ædra consulted the home-made calender she had made from information gained at Camelot and calculated that they would have little time to reach Iarum in time to meet Merlin as arranged. The horses Paul had insisted on giving them at Æscafeld helped their speed but they would still be tight on time. 
     Despite her tiredness, Ædra accompanied her companions at the inn and sang ballads to the delight of the locals who sat around drinking ale and remembering better times. It was when she let herself into her room to sleep that it happened. 
     As she opened the door, hands grabbed her from within and held her tightly, a cloth over her face stifling her screams. 
     Not again, she thought. 
     A candle was brought and the cloth pulled from her face as she lay, imobile, across the straw bed. Her mouth fell open. 
     ‘Emillo,’ she blurted out. ‘You frightened me.’ 
     She looked at the Archbishop and his companions as they let her sit up. 
     ‘It was necessary, Ædra,’ he replied. ‘No-one must know that we are here.’ 
     ‘What do you mean?’ 
     ‘Your brother warned us of your approach. It took little calculating to work out that, to reach Yorwick, you must pass through Dauncæstra. These men have been waiting here for you for some time.’ 
     ‘But why are you here? I am on my way to Yorwick, why couldn’t you have waited for me there?’ 
     ‘Are you not pleased to see me?’ 
     ‘Normally, I would have been. But now, I’m not so sure. I don’t understand all the secrecy.’ 
     ‘Are you not trying to travel incognito yourself?’ 
     ‘Yes, but that is different. My life is in danger, yours is not.’ 
     The Cardinal-turned-Archbishop smiled and it looked odd in the flickering shadows from the candle that one of his henchmen held. 
     ‘Ædra, your life is in more danger than you ever imagined.’ 
     One of his companions laughed a little and it wasn’t particularly pleasant-sounding. 
     ‘Wh...what do you mean?’ she stammered. 
     ‘I mean that the Bishop of Rome wants you dead and no-one else knows that I am here. Or you, for that matter.’ 
     ‘You are mistaken, Emilio. I have friends who will help me. 
     ‘Whistling in the dark, Ædra? You are alone, as ever. No-one will miss you If you...disappear.’ 
     ‘Emilio,’ she said, standing to face him. ‘Who’s side are you on?’ 
     There was a silence for several minutes before the Archbishop spoke. ‘Who’s side do you think I am on?’ 
     ‘I trusted you.’ 
     ‘So you did,’ he said quietly. 
     ‘I gave you gold and money for the mission at Iona. What has happened to it?’ 
     ‘It has gone to Priest Columba as arranged. King Donald has agreed for land to be granted for the building of the mission. Work will start soon on its construction.’ 
     ‘Then why...?’ 
     ‘Why am I here now?’ 
     ‘Yes.’ 
     ‘To find out why you have returned to Britannia.’ 
     ‘I have returned because Ædred called me.’ 
     ‘Your brother did not call you, he tried to warn you to be on your guard against the great evil force.’ 
     A lump came to her throat. ‘What great evil force?’ What had Merlin been up to? 
     ‘The one that has larum paralysed.’ 
     ‘larum?’ She gripped his gown tightly in her hands, her eyes wide. ‘What has happened in larum?’ 
     ‘Women have been raped, children have disappeared, men killed.’ 
     ‘But why?’ 
     He bowed his head. ‘No-one knows. Lady Gwyndora offered to go and investigate, taking a group of missionaries with her. She convinced Ædred that it would be better than sending an army. Later, the maidens were all found, some out of their minds, others dead, the remainder horribly mutilated.’ 
     ‘And Gwyndora?’ 
     ‘Vanished. The people of larum reported that she had stood up to the thing that had done the evil and that she was heard screaming long after she disappeared. The whole town is still haunted by her screams, though no-one has seen her since.’ 
     ‘I have,’ said Ædra. 
     Emilio looked astonished. ‘You have? Where?’ 
     ‘At Æscafeld. She was in a terrible state.’ 
     ‘Where is she now?’ 
     Ædra looked sad. ‘She is dead.’ 
     ‘Dead? How?’ 
     ‘I killed her.’ 
     ‘You killed her? What do you mean?’ 
     ‘I told her the cause of her situation and the knowledge made her kill herself.’ 
     ‘Then you know of the evil force?’ 
     ‘Yes. I, too, have suffered at its hand.’ 
     ‘Then...’ 
     ‘I am here to destroy it.’ 
     ‘But how?’ 
     ‘I have a plan. But first, I have to know. Who’s side are you on?’ 
     Emillo glanced briefly at his companions who shuffled nervously. ‘Do you have any power, Ædra?’ 
     She looked puzzled. ‘Some, why?’ 
     ‘Enough to protect me?’ The men began to look wary and edged towards them. 
     ‘Perhaps.’ Ædra looked alarmed. ‘What is it?’ 
     He held himself erect. ‘These men are from the Bishop of Rome.’ 
     Ædra tensed herself as she glanced from one to the other of them. Emilio bowed his head. 
     ‘Then...’ 
     The old man looked into her eyes, pleading. ‘I am not. I am with you.’ 
     One of the men reached inside his cloak and produced a long dagger. Ædra’s instincts were faster than her power and her left leg shot up and caught him under the elbow, sending the dagger spinning across the room. Fast though she was, she was unable to prevent the other one jumping towards her, his dagger arm raised while she was caught off-balance. 
     With little regard for his own life, Emilio threw himself forward and knocked the assassin aside, the two of them falling in a heap together. Ædra stepped forward but the man she had kicked at grabbed her round the throat and dragged her to the bed, tightening his grip as they fell. 
     She kicked, she bit, she struggled, she lashed out with her arms, but it was her screaming which brought the best results. The door burst open and Pierre stood on the threshold, his father right behind him. Without hesitation, Pierre grabbed the man by the hair and lashed out at his face to try and break the death grip on his Princess. 
     Ædra struggled for her breath as fighting seemed to fill the whole room around her. Eventually, it grew quiet and she sat up, rubbing her neck. 
     ‘You are safe,’ said Jules, relighting the candle. 
     ‘Emilio?’ she asked, peering into the darkness towards where the old man had fallen. 
     Jules peered over. ‘I think they are all dead.’ 
     She slipped to her knees beside the Archbishop and cradled his head in her arms. He stirred. 
     ‘It looks...’ he started. ‘It looks as if you must finish the fight alone, Ædra.’ 
     ‘Rest, Emillo,’ she soothed. ‘We will look after you.’ 
     ‘It is too late, Princess,’ he said, clutching at her arm. ‘I am finished. It all now depends upon you.’ 
     ‘You will be all right. We will fetch a healer.’ She looked at Jules who made to leave. 
     ‘It is useless,’ he muttered. He coughed and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. ‘I know when death is near.’ 
     ‘You must rest,’ Ædra said. 
     ‘My rest will be a long one,’ he said. ‘I now await the resurrection into the Kingdom of God. I am finished. I tried to avoid bringing the men to you but had no choice. I don’t know how they found out about your being still alive. They certainly did not hear it from my lips.’ 
     ‘Then who...?’ 
     ‘It would appear that you have a traitor at Court, Ædra. Very few know the truth. One of them must have informed the Holy Father who sought to eliminate you once and for all.’ 
     ‘What can I do?’ 
     ‘Destroy the evil force. Take this.’ He held up his hand. ‘With this seal, Priest Columba will recognise you. Finish the work that I helped you to start, build lona and your mission in the Faruns.’ 
     ‘I will, Emilio,’ she said with tears in her eyes. ‘I will finish them and dedicate them to you.’ 
     ‘No,’ he said and broke out coughing again. ‘They must be dedicated to no man but to God himself. I have learned a lot from you, Ædra. Names are for the proud and haughty. Let the Church of Rome have its high and pompous saints and bishops. Stick to your principles. Accomplish this in the name of the true God, not in the name of any human. I am nothing.’ 
     He started coughing again and they could see that the end was close. ‘Promise me...’ He paused for breath. ‘Promise me that you will defeat this evil and then stay and protect your people.’ 
     It was Ædra’s turn to hesitate. Her house was in Gaul. Her husband was in Gaul. Her son was in Gaul. She thought for a moment and had to admit, her heart was in larum. Her home was Britannia. The truth was out so there would no longer be a need for secrecy once Merlin had been dealt with. 
     She nodded. ‘I promise.’ 
     Emilio Broghanzani, ex Cardinal of Rome, Archbishop of Yorwick, died in Ædra’s arms while Jules and Pierre dispensed with the bodies of the assassins. She wept for a long time, then reached her decision. 
     It was barely light when the three riders galloped across the wooden bridge over the Daun and headed out of the city, the rising sun on their right. The hooves of the horses sounded hollow on the frosty ground as they rode past the Toll-Bot towards the old dairy farm beside Dere Street. 
     Splashing through the Skelf Brook, they rode north, determined to reach Yorwick by nightfall. Pretense was now gone. Time was in the essence as the trio crossed Berernsdale common and across the Went-Brycg. The great oak forests drew in around them as they neared the Ayre and saw the string of little villages along its banks. 
     Resting briefly at the Anglisc village of Knottingleah, they pushed forward into the desolate, marshy forest area that was Elmeth and, eventually, crossed the Wharfe by mid-afternoon. As the sun set over Hob Moor, they rode over the Eause bridge and through the main gate into the city of Yorwick.

     Morning came to Deira and Ædra roused the two men in the next room to her own at the inn. 
     ‘Do you understand what we must do?’ she asked of them, sitting on the end of their bed in her long nightdress. 
     ‘Of course,’ said Jules. ‘We will do just as you asked, though we scarecely understand why.’ 
     ‘You will,’ she smiled as she cheekily kissed them both before leaving to dress. ‘You will find that we are a very strange family, indeed.’ The door closed then opened again. 
     ‘One thing is certain,’ she added. ‘If you fail to fall in love with my friend, Carra, you are not normal men.’


     Queen Carra watched from the window of the castle that overlooked the market square and recognised something familiar about the short-haired girl that was catapulted into air from a springboard to a roar of the crowd. 
     Landing on the younger man’s shoulders, the girl held up her arms and the crowd went wild with excitement 
     ‘Ædred,’ she called with a puzzled look on her face. ‘You see that girl in the market place? Does she not look familiar to you?’ 
     She glanced at her husband and saw the smirk on his face. Her mouth dropped open. 
     ‘It...it’s Ædra, isn’t it?’ she stammered. Her husband nodded and placed his arm around her shoulders caringly as they both looked down on the scene. 
     ‘Keep it quiet, my dear. She wants it kept a secret for a while longer.’ 
     ‘How did you know?’ 
     ‘Have you already forgotten the power? Last night, we quite a conversation.’ 
     Carra was confused. ‘But you were here, with me.’ 
     ‘In body, yes. My mind was elsewhere.’ 
     ‘I noticed that you did seem preoccupied. I thought it was odd that you did not love me.’ 
     ‘We have enough children already, Carra my love.’ He laughed. ‘You really must learn to control yourself.’ 
     ‘What about you?’ she asked playfully. 
     ‘When you flash your gorgeous brown eyes, I can withold nothing, you know that.’ 
     They laughed easily together and Carra placed her arms around the King’s waist as she watched her sister-in-law perform a triple somersault that made the crowd gasp. 
     ‘So she eventually returned,’ continued Carra. ‘Is she still in danger?’ 
     ‘Of course. The Church would love to get its hands on her. They still think her dead. Also, if the great spirit which took Gwyndora from us finds her, it will destroy her.’ 
     ‘What is this great spirit?’ 
     ‘I don’t know, but I have a feeling that Ædra has already met it and fought with it. If she has, I’m surprised she is still alive.’ 
     ‘She looks happy enough to me. Who are the men with her?’ 
     ‘The older one is her cousin from Gaul. The younger is his son.’ 
     ‘She seems in safe hands.’ 
     Ædred smiled. ‘I have a feeling that they would die for her, Carra, as you and I would.’ 
     ‘You are right, my darling. I would give my life for Ædra.’ She looked into her husband’s eyes. ‘When can I see her?’ 
     ‘I have arranged for us to see her tomorrow, at Sheeptune. She also wants to speak with Galfor.’ 
     ‘Why on earth does Ædra want to see an ex-druid and High Priest of the sun?’ 
     ‘I don’t know, but one thing is certain, I have learned never to argue with my twin sister.’


     It was dark when the meeting took place and, after greeting her friends warmly and introducing Jules and Pierre, Ædra spent more than an hour with the old ex-druid before she came out smiling. 
     ‘You look good, Ædra,’ said Carra, holding her friend’s hand tightly. 
     ‘It’s all these acrobatics, they keep me fit.’ 
     Carra glanced at Jules and Pierre deep in conversation with Ædred. ‘You can certainly find some good looking friends, Ædra. But are they to be trusted?’ 
     ‘With my life, Carra. They will stick by me through everything.’
     ‘Will you be gone long?’ 
     ‘Until it is over. You don’t mind my taking my brother away from you for a few days?’ 
     ‘Not at all if it will help you defeat the evil that took Gwyndora from us.’ 
     ‘I pray that it will, my dear friend. I pray that it will.’


     Eight days before the start of the Roman month dedicated to Janus, they arrived at larum. No-one recognised the three now-dark-haired, young men and girl as three of them performed in the town square while the fourth, less-agile member went around with a hat. 
     That evening. Ædred called quietly on Theign Alaric, who in turn called a meeting of the Council. They were overjoyed to discover that Ædra was not dead, as they had believed but, nevertheless, agreed to keep her presence a secret for the time being as Ædred explained to them exactly what he wanted them to do. 

- Iarum -

     The early snows were melting on Bowes Moor and Greta was in full flood. Tons of sandstone and gravel were being washed down the side of the hill and into the Tease Valley. 
     East of Morbium, the angry waters dissipated as they flooded onto the alluvial plain around Dearnoth’s Farm. Further downstream, at Dynasdael, the water level was high and the current swift. At Iarum, the effect was that the river, even at low tide, was higher and more treacherous than normal. 
     Ædra looked at the raging water at daybreak as she stood beside the fishermen’s cottages on the south bank. In conditions such as this, no fishing was attempted because to run a boat across that torrent would have been certain suicide. All this left the beautiful princess with a problem. 
     The agreement had been for her to meet Merlin that day on Devil’s Hill. Having travelled many scores of miles from Mam Tor, she was now but a few short steps from her goal. The only thing stopping the achievement of that goal was the raging waters in front of her. 
     The sun must have been up somewhere because the greyness of the sky was a little paler on her right. Other than that slight discolouration, nothing indicated that day had changed from night, the rain still falling as torrentially as it had through all the dark hours. 
     An hour ago, her hair had been dark. Now, there was nothing left of the dye she had applied at Yorwick and her fair hair was matted onto her skull by the rain which also ran down the neck of her green cloak. Beside her, on horseback, were three men looking equally as miserable on this cold, December morning. 
     Just a few years ago, the pagans had been forced to cease celebrating the birth of Mithra on this day. The Romans, who had mimicked the celebration with their own Saturnalia had gone from Britannia. It was, therefore, only in isolated pockets of Caledonia and Wælas where any form of religious observance would be made on the 25th day. 
     ‘So near yet so far away,’ said Ædred sadly as he peered across the raging waters. 
     ‘Where is this Devil’s Hill?’ asked Jules. 
     Ædra pointed as she held the reins of her horse firmly. ‘You see that sharp escarpment that rises from the river?’ 
     He nodded. 
     ‘That is Eccles Cliffe and, on the top, is Devil’s Hill. Up till a few years ago, druids would offer human sacrifices there to Zero, the sun god. After the sacrifice had been made, the body was thrown from the cliff into the river in an attempt to ensure a good crop. The sacrifice would be made on the first day of May and would be accompanied by great festivities.’ 
     ‘And this disgusting practice has now ceased?’ 
     ‘Yes. In time, the people realised the futility of such sacrifices.’
     ‘What Ædra doesn’t admit to,’ added her brother, ‘is that is was she herself who put a stop to it by offering herself as sacrifice if the crops failed.’ 
     ‘What?’ said Pierre. ‘Is this true?’ 
     Ædra nodded. ‘It seemed the only way.’ 
     ‘Good grief, girl,’ exclaimed Jules. ‘What if it all went wrong? What if floods destroyed the crops? What if...?’ 
     ‘That’s it.’ shouted Ædra. 
     ‘What...?’ 
     ‘I could kiss you,’ she said. ‘That’s the answer.’ 
     ‘What is? I don’t understand.’ 
     ‘What I think she means,’ interrupted Ædred. ‘Is that there were floods. The waters did come and destroy the crops. They came because I was not here to help Ædra.’ 
     ‘What are you trying to say?’ asked the confused Jules. 
     ‘I am saying that my brother and I can stop the floods. We can dry up the river.’ 
     Pierre laughed. ‘Pull the other one, you two. How on earth can you stop this raging torrent long enough to get to the other side?’ 
     ‘Simple,’ she said and took hold of her brother’s hand. ‘I would not normally want to use our power in this way nowadays. However, lives are at stake. If I do not meet Merlin at noon on the top of that hill, he will attack my friends. I cannot allow that to happen.’ 
     ‘I know you told me about the power, but...’ 
     ‘Watch,’ she said and closed her eyes. 
     Gradually, the roar of the water softened and the white caps disappeared from the waves which ran down from Bowes Moor. After a few minutes, the water became sluggish and the level had dropped considerably. Ten minutes later, Ædra opened her eyes, climbed upon her mount and walked it into the easily-fordable waters of the Tease. Ædred smiled and followed as Jules and Pierre looked at each other in disbelief. 
     The far bank was slippery as they all struggled up and onto the firm ground beyond. Ædra led the way up the path that ran along the top of the cliff and, dismounting, stepped into a small cottage at the edge. 
     ‘Welcome to my home,’ she said, opening her arms wide to the others who had followed her inside. ‘Humble though it is.’ 
     ‘Is this where you lived?’ asked Pierre, shaking the water from his head. 
     ‘It was a present from the villagers,’ she replied as her mind went back to that day when big Mungo had carried her through the water and Mæve had helped her to keep house. Both were now dead. Mungo in the battle to save Yorwick from the Picts, Mæve at Scone when the Cruithni had mistaken her for Ædra herself. Now, it seemed, it was her turn. In less than an hour, Merlin would be here to claim his right and she would need all her power and skill to thwart him. 
     Æred lit a fire in the hearth as his sister looked out of the small window to where the church had been. The Picts had made a good job of destroying it along with its companion in Iarum. She was sad at the thought that several years had passed and neither church had been rebuilt. So much for all her hard work teaching Christianity in larum. 
     ‘It was very quiet in the village,’ noted Ædra. 
     ‘They have little to be cheerful about, little sister,’ said Ædred. ‘Their town is first devastated by the Cruithni, then crops are destroyed and many have left for the city. After that, the evil force came and took away all the children and desecrated many of the women. It is hardly surprising that they do not seem very happy.’ 
     Perhaps she had misjudged them, Ædra thought. After today, they would either be happy or have further cause for sadness. It was all up to her. 
     The rain had abated somewhat as noon approached and Ædra walked outside to where the little wooden church had stood on the site of the sacrificial pole. There was no longer anything evil about the place, having long ago been cleansed by true worship. That beinq so, why did she feel the need to tremble so violently as the time approached? 
     It felt as if she were alone in the whole world as she stood on the top of the hill, waiting. 
     Looking around, she could just see Round Hill to the east where some ancient person had been buried in great splendour. Probably some Celtic warrior king from before the coming of the Romans. Alternatively, perhaps this great chieftain had died protecting his people from the invading Roman Army. They would never know. 
     The town of larum to the south looked bleak in the poor light as sad people went about their every-day work with nothing to look forward to in life. 
     To the west, the clouds obscured the view to Bowes Moor where Greta and the Tease were born in the gritstone daels and soggy heather. To the north, the qreat forest stretched as far as the eye could see. Somewhere within it was the Hart Burn with the great herds of deer drinking and, beyond that, the Weare, the Tyn and the Vallum. Between the Vallum and the Fordd was that great desolate land guarded by Ida the Flamebearer at his new fortress at Din Guayrdi. Beside the fort were the Faruns, the string of small islands that were to determine the ultimate future of Britannia. 
     Ædra looked up into the sky. It was nearly time. Removing her cloak, she folded it and laid it upon the low pile of stones which had been the foundation of her church. 
     “Sainte Ædra of Iarum,” they had called her. Now it was all to end, one way or the other. 
     A movement beside her made her look round and she saw him. Looking very much older than when she had seen him last, Merlin had come to claim his share of the bargain. 
     ‘You did not come alone,’ he said simply, indicating her little thatched cottage. 
     ‘They will not interfere, Merlin,’ she promised. ‘They will not harm you if you do not harm them.’ 
     ‘How can I trust you?’ 
     ‘I came, didn’t I? I could have run away to Gaul. I could have killed myself. Instead, I came to meet you, as arranged.’ 
     ‘You did well.’ 
     ‘How do you feel?’ 
     ‘What do you care about how I feel?’ 
     ‘I am concerned for everyone, Merlin. Even you.’ 
     ‘Why?’ 
     She shrugged. ‘It is how I am. My father was no different, you should know that.’ 
     ‘Your father the King was too trusting for his own good. He trusted Mordred, against my advice, and look where that got him.’
     ‘And his half-sister, Morgana?’ 
     ‘Don’t talk about that witch. It is because of her that I am so angry.’ 
     ‘But my father did not like her. He had her banished to Dumnovia, didn’t he?’ 
     ‘Too late, he did. She had already done the damage by then.’ 
     ‘I can put that right,’ Ædra offered kindly. 
     ‘You? It was you who shot the arrow which has caused me so much pain of late.’ He looked straight at her. ‘For that you must die.’ 
     ‘That was not our agreement. Our agreement was that I should meet you here and that you would not harm my friends in the meantime.’ She pointed at him. ‘You lied, not me.’ 
     ‘How did I lie?’ 
     ‘You did not tell me what you had done to the people of my town, you failed to mention the pregnancy of Lady Gwyndora, my loyal Maid of Honour.’ 
     ‘Ah, yes. The virgin from Yorwick. Has she borne my child yet?’ 
     ‘She is dead, Merlin. You killed her.’ 
     ‘I? How?’ 
     ‘She could not bear the thought of giving birth to your child, so she killed herself.’ 
     ‘Who told her that it was my child?’ 
     ‘I did. It could only have been you. There is no-one else that perverted.’ 
     ‘And now it is your turn. You will bear my child.’ 
     ‘No!’ 
     ‘You promised.’ 
     ‘I promised, in my moment of weakness, to let you give me a child. I now realise that I could never let any such child be born.’ 
     ‘What do you mean?’ 
     ‘I will kill myself as Gwyndora did.’ 
     Merlin was astonished. ‘You would do that?’ 
     ‘To avoid giving birth to a child who could undo all I have accomplished? Yes, I would.’ 
     ‘Then I must kill you myself and all your friends that you care for so much.’ 
     ‘There is an alternative,’ Ædra offered quickly. 
     ‘Alternative?’ he asked suspiciously. 
     ‘I could cure you.’ 
     ‘Cure me? How?’ 
     ‘I would remove the arrow head that is causing the rot inside you. I could bring you back to full health.’ 
     ‘Why would you want to do that?’ 
     ‘Because I have no wish to see anyone die, not even you.’ 
     ‘I don’t trust you.’ 
     ‘You don’t trust me?’ she retorted angrily. ‘Listen here, Merlin. I have done all that you asked of me. I could have killed you on the Great Tor at Camelot but I didn’t. I could have let my friends kill you on Mam Tor but I let you live. I have kept my side of the bargain, it is you who cannot be trusted.’ 
     He calmed down at her outburst. ‘What would you want in return?’ 
     ‘I want larum restored and the children returned. I want you out of my kingdom and out of my life forever.’ 
     ‘I cannot do that.’ 
     ‘Why not?’ 
     ‘My power is weakened. I now have enough power to destroy you and nothing else.’ 
     ‘Then we will work together, you and I. Together, we will accomplish it all.’ 
     ‘Your and I?’ 
     ‘And my brother, Ædred.’ 
     ‘How can I trust you? Either of you?’ 
     ‘Because I always tell the truth. I will cure you if you will restore my people.’ 
     He looked around. ‘Who are all these people?’ 
     ‘What people?’ she asked, turning. 
     Dozens of men and women were struggling up the hill towards them, smiles on all their faces despite their problems. They surrounded Ædra and hugged and kissed her while she cried. They had nothinq in life to look forward to, but their Princess had returned from the dead and that was far more important than any private disasters. 
     ‘It looks as if I have underestimated you, Ædra,’ Merlin said eventually. ‘You are not at all like the witch Morgana.’ 
     ‘I am of my father, Merlin. You trusted him, why can you not trust me, too?’ 
     ‘It looks as if I might have to, if I am to live.’ 
     ‘I will show you the depth of my trustworthiness, Merlin.’ She held herself erect. ‘I forgive you for all you have done.’ 
     He was speechless. 
     Ædra turned to the crowd. ‘Do you, too, forgive him?’ 
     There was silence for a moment. Children had been taken away by this evil person. Husbands had been killed, wives raped. 
     The smith, Alaric, spoke first. ‘If you forgive him, we do also.’ There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd. 
     ‘You see, Merlin. Love can accomplish far more that evil and fear. You now have a clean slate. Use it well in the future and you will be respected by people as I am.’ 
     ‘I have no people.’ 
     ‘You do. I do not rule all of Britannia. Return to Tintagel where you helped to bring up my father. I am willing to leave you all of the kingdom of Dumnovia and the lands of Wælas and Cwmria as your territory. Christianity has no great influence there and, at present, I have no plans to have any jurisdiction over that part of the island. I’m sure that you will be very happy there without me to interfere with your funny little ways.’ 
     ‘But I must be cured first, as you promised.’ 
     ‘Before that, we must restore larum.’ 
     ‘It seems as if I have no choice in the matter.’ 
     ‘None.’ 
     ‘When do we start?’ 
     ‘Now.’ She turned and held out her hand to her brother who stepped closer and took it gently in his own while he watched Merlin warily. Merlin, in turn, looked at both of them with some unease. Ædra smiled and held out her hand to him. It was a long time before he took it. 
     The sky grew dark as the trio concentrated their powers in unison. The ground trembled and the lightning flashed. Ædra felt the power flowing from her arms as she watched Merlin strain to right all that he had wronged. 
     The sound of children crying brought a smile to her lips as the uproar increased around her. As Merlin relaxed in conclusion, she felt his arm go limp. Opening her own eyes, she watched as he fell to the ground, spent. 
     ‘I am done, Ædra,’ he said. ‘The effort had drained me. I m at your mercy.’ 
     Ædra dropped to her knees beside him and held up his head, peering into his eyes. He was right, he was going fast and not faking. The power he had retained for evil had been used for good. Gently, she laid him down on the wet grass and opened his cloak. Too feeble to resist, he lay there, silently weeping the tears of utter defeat. 
     Ædra hesitated. If she just left him now, he would surely die and she would be rid of him for ever. No more looking over her shoulder wondering if he had kept his word. No more worrying if he was going to attack her aqain. 
     His eyes were wide and staring as he shook, violently, with fear as Ædra gently placed her hands on his torso. He was so weak that she had only to press down, hard, and he would be gone. Instead, she closed her eyes and prayed. 
     Carefully, her hands moved down his stomach and over his abdomen as the rain dripped from her chin onto his bare chest. He closed his own eyes as the great pain came and let out a cry. Gradually, the pain subsided and he opened his eyes slowly. 
     Ædra smiled and held up the arrow head. ‘Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ 
     For the first time in his life, Merlin smiled back. Ædra gently kissed his stomach and closed his gown. 
     She called over Jules and Pierre. ‘Carry him carefully to my cottage. I will prepare broth for us all. In the morning, he can leave.’ 
     The people swarmed around Ædra as Merlin was carried away. There were smiling faces everywhere as mothers proudly held up their returned children for Ædra to see. 
     Ædra looked up at the sky. The sun was shining.

     Merlin tossed and turned throughout the rest of the day and into the night while Ædra ministered to him and cared for him as her brother organised food and drink for them all. It had been the arrival of the people that had convinced Merlin to work with them instead of against them and Ædred was glad that he had had the foresight to arrange it. All he had done was to arrange for an announcement to be made in the town at noon that Ædra had returned to her cottage. The people did the rest, and he was glad. 
     Ædred was not entirely convinced that Merlin intended to keep his word but he was prepared to trust his sister’s feminine instincts and deep insight. He watched now as she leant over Merlin, wiping his forehead. How on earth did he ever let her go? She was beautiful. Still, Carra was his wife now and his sister, in turn, was married to Sir Galahad. 
     His mind drifted. Now that Ædra had returned to Iarum, what would happen when the Church found out? 
     Ædred wiped his arm across his forehead in an attempt to keep his eyes open. Jules and Pierre lay in the corner, already fast asleep, as the fire raged in the hearth, spreading its warmth to all the corners of the room. 
     ‘Sleep, my brother,’ said Ædra from behind him as she slipped her arms around his waist. 
     ‘I have to admit, I am surely tempted.’ 
     ‘Then do so. I can do no more for Merlin. It is now up to his own recuperative powers.’ 
     ‘Very well.’ He sat down and leant against the wall, listening to the nearby waters of the river which had started to flow again during the evening. Soon, his eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep. 
     Ædra smiled and kissed his forehead. Throwing an extra log onto the fire, she warmed herself briefly before checking on Merlin’s even breathing. Steam rose from all the damp clothes including her own. Realising that her dress was still soaking wet, she slipped it over her head and hung it on a nail in the rafter. The heat from the fire warmed her body as she toasted both sides of herself until her skin was red from the heat. 
     Ædra looked around the room, looking for somewhere to lay in the crowded room, and then made her decision. Stepping to the bunk where Merlin lay, she gently lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped under it, snuggling up to the old magician in the red glow from the fire. Looking round the room for the last time, it now all seemed so peaceful as heavy weights gradually closed her exhausted eyelids.


     When she woke at first light, she lay still, looking up at the wooden supports of the roof. She looked around the room. The fire had burnt down to mere embers and she pulled the blanket right up to her chin to keep warm. Her brother was still asleep and she smiled. Close to him, in the corner, Jules still sat with his son’s head now in his lap, both still dead to the world. 
     Her dress still hung above the fire and she wondered if she could reach it and put it on before the others awoke and found her naked. Sitting up with the blanket in front of her, she looked towards her bed-mate for the night and drew in her breath sharply.
     Merlin had vanished. 

- The Traitor -

     Breakfast was eaten in silence. Ædra had risen, dressed and baked some of the flour the villagers had brought as a present and the smell of fresh bread had permeated the little cottage before the others stirred. One by one, they had woken and realised the significance of the situation. 
     ‘Have we done the right thing?’ Ædred eventually asked, sitting on the edge of the table. 
     ‘I think so,’ replied his sister, rolling dough for another loaf. 
     ‘I’m not convinced that we can trust him. He may return and do far worse than before, now he has recovered.’ 
     ‘No, he won’t do that.’ 
     ‘You seem very sure, Ædra,’ said Jules, now reverting to using the unfamiliar Anglisc form of her name. 
     Ædra sailed at him, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. ‘He has nothing to gain now from attacking me and he knows it.’ 
     ‘But how can you be sure that he will not harm others?’ Jules reasoned. ‘Thanks to you, he now has his power back again.’ 
     ‘Yes, Ædra,’ added her brother. ‘Leopards cannot change their spots.’ 
     ‘Listen to me, all of you.’ Ædra faced them and began to explain. ‘Many years ago, when my father the King was but a boy, Merlin would visit him at Camelot. The two of them became great friends. In effect, Merlin was his tutor, teaching him many things that a normal teacher would not know about. Merlin would no more harm my father than hurt himself, there was no reason to. I have spent many hours reading the history books in the library at Camelot. They tell of how my father came to be born of Uther Pendragon, and of how his mother had rejected him when she had found out how she had been tricked by Merlin’s power.’ 
     ‘How do you mean, Ædra?’ asked Pierre, speaking for the first time. 
     ‘Uther was king in Northern Dumnovia and he did a deal with Merlin so that he could have one night of passion with a beautiful lady called Ygraine. Unfortunately for Uther, Ygraine was married to Golois of Tintagel who recognised the sheer lust in the eyes of Uther. Locking his wife up in the fortress, Golois made to fight with Uther. Mad with desire, Uther made a solemn deal with Merlin. If Merlin would find a way to let him have Ygraine to himself for just one night, he would allow Merlin to share the kingdom.’ 
     ‘Did Merlin help him?’ asked Pierre. 
     ‘Yes. At that time, Merlin was very honourable and trustworthy. He provided Uther with a drug which made him look identical to Golois for a short period and Uther rode to Tintagel and took Ygraine and made mad, passionate love to her, she thinking that he was her husband. However, Golois was killed in the battle that night and the secret eventually came out. Ygraine had conceived my father that night, but grew to hate the child that had been conceived within her womb.’ 
     ‘What happened to Uther? He was the father.’ 
     ‘Uther renounced all responsibility and, a year later, he, too, died in battle. In the meantime, my father was born at Tintagel. Ygraine detested the young boy and refused to care for him. Ygraine’s own daughter, Morgana, also knew the truth about the conception and hated both Merlin and the newborn child. If it had not been for the timely intervention of Merlin, my father would have died whilst still a baby.’ 
     ‘What did Merlin do?’ asked Jules. 
     ‘He arranged for the land to be overrun by an ex-general from the Roman Army, a certain Ambrosius Auriellium. With neither Uther nor Golois to defend the land, Ambrosius conquered it with hardly a battle and some of the princes of the land were taken back by him to his capital city, Camelot.’ 
     ‘Ah, now I begin to see where this is leading to. I presume that your father was one of the princes.’ 
     ‘Exactly. He was taken to Camelot to be trained for better things. The Roman way of life was far more civilised than that of the native Britons and Ambrosius saw a great future for my father and came to treat him as his own son. However, Merlin also got involved. Feeling somewhat guilty about my father, still but a boy, he moved from Tintagel and came to inhabit the area around Camelot. No-one seemed to know quite where he lived, but he was often associated with the Great Tor. As Uther had been associated with the stone henge, he also spent time there in meditation.’ 
     ‘The great henge near Sarum, do you mean?’ 
     ‘Yes. That’s right. Apart from the teaching my father received at the court in Camelot, he was also trained in many other matters by Merlin. My father grew to be a very wise and clever king.’ 
     ‘He is certainly noted for having been such. How did he become King?’ 
     ‘Ambrosius had no son, so the empire was in doubt. My father was but seventeen at the time and was one of many who had claim to the throne of Britannia, such as it was. Crafty Merlin devised a contest that he knew he could manoeuvre. He had Excalibur made and endowed it with certain properties in that the one owning it could never be defeated. Excalibur was then locked into a large block of ironstone and ones wishing to vie for rulership were taunted to extract the sword from the stone. As you can probably guess, Merlin arranged it so that my father withdrew the sword when no other could.’ 
     ‘So he became king of Britannia.’ 
     ‘Yes, but remember. At that time, most people lived in the south of the island in a belt stretching from Dumnovia to Cant. The north was not thought to be worth ruling. So, whoever ruled the area around Sarum, ruled all Britannia, to all intents and purposes.’ 
     ‘What about the Seaxons? Did he not fight with them?’ 
     ‘Yes, many times. There had been Seaxons in the Roman army and many had settled in the south of Britannia. These caused little trouble. It was some of the Anglisc ones that came later who got up the King’s nose. Instead of being content with the land they had, they attacked other tribal kings and caused trouble. Two of the most well known were Hengist and Horsa, Jutes by birth. In time, the tribal kings pleaded to my father to help them to drive away these usurpers and, reluctantly, he went into battle against them. Several times, he defeated them but couldn’t bring himself to drive them away altogether. When they promised peace, he trusted them and let them live. It was only when Chieftain Vortigern was murdered in cold blood that my father finally attacked in force and defeated them at Burgh Conan. The rest you know. My mother was Hengist’s daughter, Princess Rowena, and my father was Arthur of Camelot, King of Britannia.’ 
     ‘Where did Morgana fit in with all this and why did Merlin fall out with your family?’ 
     ‘Morgana felt that she was the rightful heir to the throne and resented my father’s position. She tried all ways to overturn the kingdom, even once trying to poison my father. Though the King had relied upon Merlin at first, he was now able to rule without Merlin’s help. However, Morgana felt that if she could find a way to overcome Merlin, she could still usurp the throne.’ 
     ‘What happened?’ 
     ‘She, in effect, seduced poor Merlin.’ 
     ‘Poor Merlin?’ 
     ‘Yes. He had no idea what she was up to. She arranged to meet him one day, pretending that she wanted to learn from him as her half-brother had done before her. Merlin, besotted with her beauty in his old age, agreed to meet her.’ 
     ‘Morgana was beautiful?’ 
     ‘Oh yes. Remember, she was the daughter of Ygraine of Tintagel, the most beautiful woman in all Britannia.’ 
     ‘Now I can see where you get your good looks, Ædra,’ observed Jules. ‘Daughter of Princess Rowena of Hengist and granddaughter of Ygraine of Tintagel, you just had to turn out beautiful.’ 
     ‘You flatter me, Jules.’ 
     ‘It is truth. You usually insist on truth.’ 
     ‘What a background you have,’ observed Pierre. 
     ‘You could say that. Uther, of course, was Roman by birth being the son of Emperor Constantine. Golois and Ygraine were Bretons. So Morgana, too, had certain pedigree as well as great beauty.’ 
     ‘And Merlin came under her spell?’ 
     ‘In a sense, yes,’ replied Ædra. ‘Whilst captivated by her, Merlin gave away some of his secrets and one of them led to his downfall. Morgana had him trapped inside a tree and then covered by one of the stones of the great henge. She thought that by doing this, the King would now be vulnerable.’ 
     ‘But he wasn’t, was he? He continued to do qreat things without Merlin’s help. I can begin to see how Merlin must have felt, though.’ 
     ‘Yes. He felt totally betrayed by all the family. When his resting place at the great stone henge was disturbed by Cynric, he came back to get his revenge. In the meantime, Morgana had died, herself poisoned by one of her many betrayed lovers. All Merlin could see, in his rage, was me. He could not get at me in Gaul, so he started to systematically attack those whom I loved the most. If I was anything like my father, he knew that I would feel compelled to return to protect them, which I did.’ 
     ‘So you heard about this in Gaul,’ suggested Pierre. 
     ‘Not at all,’ intervened Ædred. ‘Apparently, he started at Camelot and traced Ædra to Yorwick. Unable to locate her after all his trouble, he went to larum where he saw signs of her everywhere. In a blind fury, he went on the rampage, destroying and killing. At the time, of course, I did not appreciate that it was Merlin who was at the source of the problem.’ 
     ‘But why did he do the things he did?’ 
     ‘Simply to promote a situation whereby Ædra would feel compelled to return. Poor Gwyndora was the last straw. She was the daughter of Gwyndor from Vercovicium and was once saved from sacrifice by Ædra so, caring nothing for herself, Gwyndora faced him and defended Ædra openly so he made up his mind what he would do. If killing people would not bring Ædra to him, perhaps violating her friends would produce the desired effect. He also knew from what he had seen in larum, that Ædra loved children. So, young women and children became his main target.’ 
     ‘So you called for Ædra to help.’ 
     ‘Not at all,’ said the King. ‘I sensed that it was Ædra he was really after, so I tried to warn her to stay away. Unfortunately.’ He ran his hand down his sister’s soft cheek. ‘Or fortunately, whichever way you want to look at it, Ædra misinterpreted my warning as a call for help.’ 
     ‘So she returned to Britannia.’ 
     ‘Yes. She returned to Britannia. Now I don’t know what we will do with her.’ 
     ‘How do you mean?’ 
     ‘Merlin now has his fulI strength back and, if he wishes, he could attack, and probably kill, Ædra at any time. I can’t always be with her to help defend her.’ 
     ‘Do you think he will?’ asked Jules. 
     ‘I somehow don’t trust him.’ 
     ‘I do,’ said Ædra. ‘I think Merlin knows that I offer him no danger so he has no reason to fear me or attack me now.’ 
     ‘Ædra,’ said the King, putting his arm around his twin sister. ‘I wish I had your faith.’

     The river still raged throughout the next day but Ædra would not use her power to control the water again. 
     ‘It is for emergencies only,’ she said in reply to the suggestion from Jules. ‘It would be an abuse of the power to use it when it is not needed.’ 
     They looked across the Tease to where Alaric stood with a deputation from the town on the far bank, unable to cross due to the current. Ædra looked at the pale shape of the moon rising in the daytime sky and calculated. 
     ‘I cross at midday,’ she announced. 
     ‘Cross the river?’ exclaimed Pierre. ‘Are you mad, Ædra?’ 
     ‘Not at all. The river here is tidal and, at the moment, the tide is beginning to flood. In about another hour or so, it will be high tide and the river will be at its highest.’ 
     ‘And its deepest.’ 
     ‘The depth is no problem when you are in a boat. The point is, the flow of water will be almost still for an hour or so. That is all the time I need.’ 
     ‘For what?’ 
     ‘To see Alaric before we leave.’ 
     ‘Leave?’ asked her brother. ‘For where?’ 
     ‘I am going to visit Ida.’ 
     ‘I see. Do we all come?’ 
     ‘As you wish. I will go alone if I have to.’ 
     Ædred looked at the others. ‘We will come with you.’ 
     ‘Good,’ she smiled. ‘You still don’t believe me, do you?’ 
     ‘Let’s just say I’m not entirely convinced.’ 
     ‘Just believe me, my brother. Uncle Gann fished here for many years and I spent some months watching him. Also, as we went preaching, he would tell me tales of the river. The knowledge I have is from an old hand of the river.’ 
     They sat down to wait for the tide to flood and watched the continuously swirling eddies and ripples. Ædra suddenly stood up and walked along the river bank. 
     Ædred glanced at Jules. ‘Now what is she up to?’ Even her own brother was confused at times. 
     They followed, saying nothing, as she walked and then stopped, looking at the water and the two banks. Then she returned and closely observed the way the waters flowed at different speeds according to the position on the bend of the river. 
     She pointed. ‘There, I think.’ 
     Ædred looked puzzled. ‘There, what?’ 
     ‘The bridge.’ 
     ‘Bridge? Over the Tease?’ 
     ‘If Constantine could build one over the Eause and Hadrian could build one at Morbium, we can build one here, at larum. Just think what it will do for trade.’ 
     ‘How on earth is anyone going to construct a bridge across that torrent?’ 
     ‘Copy the one over the Eause at Yorwick. Better still, as we near the Wall’s End, take note of how the Tyn Bridge is built, we can copy that one.’ 
     ‘We need someone who can draw, to make the plans.’ 
     ‘Leave that to me. I know just the person.’ 
     ‘Then we will need stone for the bulwarks.’ 
     ‘The limestone hills south of Morbium. We can quarry it there and transport it downstream on rafts.’ 
     ‘Wood for the platform?’ 
     She pointed. ‘What are they?’ 
     ‘Trees,’ acknowledged Ædred. ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ 
     ‘Of course. I have decided upon the architect and the chief bridge-builder.’ 
     ‘The Pontifex Maximus?’ suggested Jules. 
     Ædra laughed. ‘I see that you know some Latin, my cousin.’ 
     ‘I know that it was the hereditary title that the pagan Emperors of Rome had until about a hundred and fifty years ago when Emperor Gratian became a Christian. When he succeeded Emperor Valens, he prohibited pagan worship in Rome and refused to wear the pagan insignia of Potifex Maximus.’ 
     ‘But,’ offered Ædred. ‘Is that not the title that the Bishop of Rome now uses?’ 
     ‘Yes, it is. When Gratian dropped the title and its pagan obligations, Bishop Damasus picked up the title and absorbed many pagan practices into the Church. It is one of the reasons why the Church is in the state it is today. That title and many pagan doctrines became sanctified by use within the Church.’ 
     ‘I thought there had to be a good reason for my hating the Church so much,’ said Ædra and they all laughed. ‘Emilio would have seen the funny side of it, too.’ 
     ‘That reminds me, Ædra. I haven’t seen him for some days.’ 
     Ædra looked sad. ‘He is dead, my brother.’ 
     ‘Dead?’ he looked from Ædra to Jules to Pierre, searching their faces for some indication as to what had happened. 
     ‘Men came from Rome and forced him to lead them to me at Dauncæstra. If it had not been for his brave sacrifice as well as the prompt intervention of Jules and Pierre, I would not be here now.’ 
     ‘But how?’ 
     ‘How did they know I was still alive? It is a question I have asked myself every waking hour since then. I did not tell them, Emilio told me with his dying breath that he did not tell them. Who does that leave?’ 
     ‘Toreal?’ 
     ‘Not a chance. She was as surprised as anyone to see me back.’ 
     ‘Igor?’ 
     ‘Possibly. But what would he hope to gain by it? No, not Igor.’ 
     ‘Then who?’ 
     She looked sideways at her brother. ‘You?’ 
     ‘Me? Are you mad, Ædra?’ 
     ‘Not at all, my brother. Is it not possible that, in all your conversations with visiting dignitaries that you just might have let something slip.’ 
     Ædred looked guilty. ‘It is possible.’ 
     ‘Who have you told?’ She was not angry with her brother, just concerned about the possible repercussions when the assassins did not return to whoever it was that had sent them. She touched his hand gently. ‘Think hard, Ædred.’ 
     ‘Ida, Polimus, Galfor.’ 
     ‘None of those,’ said Ædra, shaking her head. ‘Who else?’ 
     He thought hard. ‘Urien of Rheged... 
     ‘Who on earth is Urien of Rheged?’ asked the astonished Princess. 
     ‘King of Cwmria. He came to me a month ago, claiming all rights to Catraeth.’ 
     ‘Why?’ she asked suspiciously. 
     ‘He claimed that one of his traditional titles was Llyn Catraeth, Lord of Cattericatum.’ 
     ‘I hope you sent him packing.’ 
     ‘Of course. Cattericatum guards Dere Street and is at the Western approach to Deira. Whoever has Cattericatum controls the Great North Road.’ 
     ‘Precisely. How was the matter left?’ 
     ‘I’m afraid I delayed the matter knowing that you were in Britannia by then. I knew you would make a wise decision he would accept.’ 
     ‘So he knows.’ 
     Ædred looked down. ‘Yes.’ 
     ‘And it is in his interests that I remain dead.’ 
     ‘I suppose it is. I never thought...’ 
     ‘Of course you didn’t. How were you to know what he might do? At least we now know the probable cause and can deal with the matter promptly.’ 
     ‘How?’ 
     ‘Right now, I’m going to cross the river and speak to Alaric. Tomorrow, I am going to see Polimus and inspect a certain bridge and then, I’m going to pay visit to Ida at Din Guayrdi. I wish to inspect his handiwork.’ 
     Ædred smiled. ‘I knew that you would soon want to get involved again.’ 
     ‘I am like a bad pfennig, Ædred. I turn up at the most inopportune moments.’


     Aedra was right. The river was almost still a the moment of high tide, though still ugly-looking. It would take a brave man to set foot in a boat that day but Ædra did it without hesitation, followed by a more reluctant trio of male associates. Alaric met them at the other side and warmly welcomed them. 
     ‘You must think us a terrible town,’ said the Theign as they walked towards his forge. 
     ‘I admit I am very disappointed, Alaric. It has been over two years since the Cruithni burnt down the churches. I would have expected at least one of them to be rebuilt by now. After all, Galahad did make a start.’ 
     ‘We have been very busy rebuilding homes and looking after crops and animals.’ 
     ‘Excuses!’ she simply said. 
     ‘I feel ashamed that you should return and find it so after all the work that you put in here. Do you want us to start on the church building immediately?’ 
     Ædra stopped and the others nearly canonned into her. ‘It’s not what I want, Alaric. I didn’t force Christianity on you here.’ 
     ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ 
     ‘Then how did you mean it? I thought I made it quite clear that I expected nothing. If the people of larum were to become Christian, they were to do so because they wanted it, not because I did. I am not upset that you have not rebuilt the church because of me, I am just disappointed that the depth of their devotion was so shallow. As soon as I am not here to set the lead, they revert to old habits.’ 
     ‘They have not reverted to paganism, Ædra, I made sure of that. There have been no human sacrifices or anything.’ 
     Ædra put her hand on his arm. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest they had become heathen again. It’s just that Christianity is something which must be practised, not just preached, and meeting together in worship is an integral part of it. Remember what St Paul said “Do not forsake the meeting of yourselves together as some have the custom.” He made it quite clear that people are not Christians if they do not assemble together.’ 
     ‘On the sabbath, you mean?’ 
     ‘The day is irrelevant. It is the meeting and the teaching that goes on which is the main thing.’ 
     ‘If we rebuild the church, will you come and be our preacher?’ 
     Ædra hesitated. ‘No, I cannot do that. I am a woman and it would not be right for me to take the lead. A Churchman must be appointed.’ 
     ‘How? You said that the Archbishop was dead.’ 
     ‘True. That is why my last act as unofficial queen must be to see that a new one is appointed. I already have someone in mind, if he is willing.’ 
     ‘Then what will you do?’ asked Alaric. ‘Somehow, I cannot imagine you sitting around, doing nothing.’ 
     ‘I will gladly teach the people in their homes as equals but St Paul said that it is wrong for a woman to publicly teach in church.’ 
     ‘Does that mean that you won’t return to Gaul and leave us again?’ 
     ‘I intend to return and live in larum,’ she told them and Ædred looked surprised. ‘It was a promise I made to Emillo just before he died.’ 
     ‘What about Galahad? And your young son, Paulinus?’ 
     ‘I must try to persuade my husband to return to Britannia.’ 
     ‘And if he won’t?’ 
     ‘I will face that issue when I have to. I dearly love my husband and child and, now that Merlin has gone, I miss them very much.’ 
     ‘But you’ve got me instead,’ smiled the King. 
     ‘Huh!’ remarked the Princess sarcastically.


     They missed the tide back. The townspeople would not let them go without seeing a demonstration of their acrobatic ability and they loved it. Afterwards, there was rejoicing in the town till long after dark as a great fire was lit in the market place and chestnuts were roasted and eaten along with rye bread and local butter. They made it very clear that they loved their Princess and wanted her to stay. 
     It was, therefore, a very reluctant Ædra who clambered into a boat at midnight to cross the Tease to Eccles Cliffe for a good night’s rest before the long and hazardous journey northward into the unknown. 

- Pons Ælius -

     Winter is never the best time to travel, particularly along the north-eastern seaboard of Britannia. Virtually empty of all life, a more inhospitable place had never been imagined by man. Between larum and the Tyn stretched the great oak forests reaching across the Weare valley and right up to the Tyn. The great oaks offered protection from the wind as the four travellers made their way northwards. 
     The only time Ædra had been this far north was when she had been forced to accompany Borin, the Pictal Chieftain, to the Caledonian capital of Scone. On that journey, she had travelled up Dere Street, much further inland but, after Galahad had collected her from there, they had returned together along this route which was only a few miles inland from the Norsey coast. 
     Edra smiled at the thought as she trotted along on her horse, her brother by her side, Jules and Pierre close behind. On that previous occasion, she had not been married and she contrasted Galahad’s gentlemanly conduct with that of Bonn who had tried to have her killed as a witch. Though she had been promised to Galahad, he had never once tried to seduce her nor woo her physically until after they were married. She did miss him. 
     The wind blew colder as the forest thinned on the slopes down to the Tyn basin. Ahead was Pons Ælius where Polimus held the estuary from his fortress overlooking the river. Only recently had the area become prosperous as more Anglisc refugees flocked from Schleswig across the wide sea, with its many treacherous sand banks, to Northumbria in search of a place to live in peace and security. Here, they had found it with the native population very sparse in numbers. An invasion from the mainland had not been necessary, there was room for everyone in this wide, fertile valley, so much like the Tease. 
     Polimus did well to keep control from his small garrison overlooking the loading bays where the long ships disembarked. Tactful as ever, he was the perfect Eoldorman in the circumstances, the few natives still living in fear of the memory of the Romans who had transformed their land. Ædra was looking forward to seeing the old soldier again. 
     It began to drizzle as the troupe followed the beck through the marshy lands to the south of the Tyn but, before the sun could touch the distant hills above Ebawutra, the bridge that led to the fortified riverside town was in sight. Built by Emperor Titus Ælius Hadrianus about four centuries previously, the bridge was still in remarkable condition despite the ravages of time and floodwaters, and Ædra paused to look at it closely as the cold wind blew around them. 
     ‘See what I mean?’ she said to no-one in particular. 
     ‘It certainly is a remarkable structure,’ agreed Jules, leaning forward in the saddle to ease his aching limbs. 
     ‘That is what I want at Iarum,’ she declared. 
     ‘It will not be easy,’ cautioned her twin. 
     ‘I know that, my brother. I’m sure the Thracians who were brought in to build this bridge didn’t have it all easy either.’ 
     Ædred shrugged. ‘I suppose you are right.’ 
     ‘Of course I am,’ smirked Ædra and nudged her horse onto the bridge towards the garrison which had the same name as the bridge it defended. 
     ‘Wait!’ called the King, riding up beside her. ‘You would not want to gee Polimus inadequately dressed, would you?’ 
     Ædra looked down at her dark cloak which covered her woollen dress and tunic. ‘Whatever do you mean?’ 
     Ædred delved into his saddlebag. ‘Close your eyes.’ 
     ‘Ædred. It is almost dark. We do not have time for guessing games.’ 
     The king paused and his sister, seeing that she would get nowhere by arguing, closed her eyes and something cold touched her neck. Her eyes sprung open and her brother smiled. Reaching up, her long fingers touched the golden torc around her neck that had been a present from the people of Craythorne when she had been only fourteen. Tears came to her eyes at the thought of Big Mungo first placing the symbol of power around her throat, and how they had all bowed at her feet before following her into battle with the Cruithni. Her mind also jumped to the time when she and Mungo had entered the Cruithni camp alone, while the enemy slept, and how the two of them had set fire to the camp encircling Yorwick and they had saved the city from disaster. However, Mungo had not returned that day and he was a sad loss. 
     Jules and his son looked on as Ædra leant across and kissed her brother gently on the cheek and thanked him before holding his hand as they rode, side by side, across the wooden bridge. 
     Polimus was good and his men well-trained. The party was but a third of the way across the two hundred and forty-five yard span when a score of riders thundered across the platform bridge towards them. Jules and Pierre had already slipped the bows from their shoulders and had arrows fitted to their strings before Ædra could move or say a word. Ædra, however, to show the guards that they meant no harm, slipped from her mount and stepped forward, alone, to meet them. Skidding to a halt on the wet oak a yard from her, the leader glowered down at her in the poor light, his long spear in his hand. Ædra smiled. 
     ‘Who are you?’ the leader asked, confused by the situation. 
     ‘I have come to see General Polimus,’ said Ædra simply. 
     The Captain of the Guard looked from Ædra to the fair-haired man on the horse behind her and then to the other two who sat, bows in hands. Ædra observed his looks and turned to Jules and Pierre. 
     ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘We are among friends.’ 
     ‘I still want to know who you are and by what right you are here before you pass,’ the Captain stubbornly insisted. 
     ‘This,’ Ædra indicated her brother, ‘is King Ædred of Deira. I have the honour of being his sister.’ 
     He obviously did not believe her. ‘And the others?’ 
     ‘My cousin Jules from Gaul and his son, Pierre.’ 
     ‘Well, your Majesties,’ he said somewhat sarcastically. ‘Perhaps you would like to follow me to the garrison. There we will find out who you really are.’ 
     He issued orders to his men as Ædra remounted and they were escorted to the city gate. Pons Ælius was not a big garrison, originally intended only to guard the bridge and river approach in conjunction with another fort at the Wall’s End, now disused and derelict. Another, much larger fort had been built further west along the Roman Wall, on top of the hill overlooking the valley, at Condercum. This, too, had now become abandoned in spite of its long use as a centre of worship and as a hospital. Thus Pons Ælius, once the smallest fort in the area, had become the most important, being known locally now as the Novacæstir. 
     The city had obviously become very important since her previous visit just three years ago. Many more of the streets were paved in stone and many shops lined the Via Principas. People looked out into the semi-darkness at the odd procession as it moved towards the headquarters building in the centre. 
     Dismounting and removing his helmet respectfully in the square in front of the tall building, the Captain strode through the big, oaken doors. 
     ‘Forgive me, Commander,’ he said to Polimus. ‘But I have a young man outside who claims to be the King of Deira.’ 
     General Polimus straightened from his map. ‘Is he alone?’ 
     ‘No, sir. He has a girl of about twenty years with him, and two disreputable-looking foreigners. 
     ‘Is the young lady beautiful?’ 
     ‘I suppose you could say so,’ admitted the Captain, no longer feeling quite so confident. 
     ‘Golden hair?’ 
     The Captain nodded and saw the end of his previously-promising career approaching fast. 
     It was Polimus’s turn to show a little sarcasm. ‘Then perhaps you would be so kind as to show in the King of Deira and his sister, Princess Ædra of Camelot, the Queen of Britannia.’ 
     The Captain ran, yes ran, out of the door and almost collided with Ædra as she walked in, head high, her golden torc gleaming in the light from the oil lamps. 
     ‘I...’ he began. 
     Ædra smiled. ‘Thank you for escorting us to the city.’ 
     The soldier was speechless as she passed him, followed by Ædred, a sly smile playing on his lips. Yet another had experienced the idiosyncrasies associated with the return of King Arthur’s Brood.

     The tall knight in black stood patiently before the Creek at Glastuneburgh as the old wizard stared out over the water, muttering incoherently. The sun had barely risen above the Tor and strange shadows were cast onto the stratified mist which hung, ghost-like, over the still waters. The snow which had fallen a week ago had now thawed and the ground was soggy under its crisp outer shell which crackled underfoot following the frost during the early part of the night. 
     They were alone. Few ventured near this eerie place, especially at night. Legend has it that the spirits of the dead kings of Camelot still haunt the creek and the wide marshes beyond. 
     The knight was patient as he waited for the wizard to finish explaining the reason as to why he had been sumoned from a long distance. The mutterings seemed to reach a crescendo in due course and he watched as the surface of the creek rippled slightly as an arm was raised out of the creek, holding the long, gleaming sword. The old wizard in blue reached out his hand and the sword seemed to leap through the air and into his grip as the white hand slipped quietly beneath the waters once more. The old man walked towards the armoured knight and stopped a pace in front of him. 
     ‘Take it,’ he said with authority. ‘With Excalibur in your hands, you are invincible in battle.’ 
     The knight hesitated for but a moment before reaching out to take the sword by the hilt. It was lighter than he had expected though its power was clearly felt as he balanced it in his right hand. 
     ‘Why do I need Excalibur?’ he eventually asked. 
     ‘Because the quest you must complete for me now is a difficult one. Many have attmpted to rid Britannia of King Arthur’s Brood and have died in the process and still many more will try. Only you with Excalibur, can accomplish what is needed.’ 
     ‘Where must I go to find the Brood?’ 
     ‘To the north, my friend. To the Kingdom of Northumbria where you will find them both. You then know what you must do.’ 
     ‘You have explained well, Merlin. I am grateful that you called me and that it is to me you have given the privilege of completing this quest. I pray it will be as successful as my last one.’ 
     ‘I know that it will be, Sir Knight. I have every confidence. You will complete what I, in my old age, wish to do but am unable.’ 
     The knight stood tall. ‘Neither Excalibur nor I will let you down.’ 
     Merlin looked straight at the knight. ‘Beware of one thing. The sword was originally endowed with properties whereby it could only be used by King Arthur himself. Others tried to use it against the King but all failed. I am only able to transfer the power to you for a short period of time. After that, it will revert to the exclusive use of his twin Brood. Use it while the power is still yours else they will be masters of it once more and you will have failed in your quest.’ 
     ‘I will not fail, Merlin. I swear it.’ 
     ‘Then go, trusty knight. You do not have much time.’


     The fort at Novacæstir had not been designed for comfort. The hardy soldiers who had come here from the West Midlands two centuries previously had had to bear conditions that were spartan in the extreme. However, Polimus had now transformed the central building which served, not only as his headquarters but also as home for himself and his young son. The travellers were made very welcome and were afforded the best of hospitality. 
     ‘I have arranged for a meal in one hour if that is acceptable, Highnesses.’ 
     ‘That will be fine, thank you, Polimus,’ said the King. ‘May we clean up after our long journey?’ 
     ‘Of course.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m afraid there are no separate female baths in the garrison, Ædra. Our facilities are very male-orientated.’ 
     ‘Are there no women at all?’ 
     ‘Only in the town. We have married quarters, of course, but they are outside the fort itself. We have found it best to maintain things along the old lines, here, in military style.’ 
     ‘You must control the area how you see best, Polimus,’ affirmed Ædra. ‘Neither Ædred nor I will interfere with such a smooth-running part of the Kingdom.’ 
     ‘You flatter me, Ædra.’ 
     ‘I speak the truth, as always.’ 
     ‘I offer you my own quarters for as long as you stay here.’ 
     ‘You are kind, Polimus, but I will manage with what you have available.’ 
     ‘I insist.’ 
     ‘Very well. I accept. Thank you.’ 
     ‘I’m afraid...’ He was obviously embarrassed at not being able to offer his queen more appropriate conditions. ‘I’m afraid that the baths are not segregated.’ 
     ‘No matter, my good friend,’ Ædra laughed. ‘Since I was young I have always bathed with my brother and see no reason why I should stop now.’ 
     Polimus glanced at Jules and Pierre. 
     ‘My relatives, too, have seen me naked before,’ she added, ‘and I doubt if they will start to object now.’ 
     ‘As you wish, Ædra,’ he said. ‘Captain, show them to the baths.’ 
     ‘With respect, Commander,’ the Captain offered. ‘I would fetch my own wife and daughter who could minister to the Princess.’ 
     Polimus hesitated. Ædra looked at the flustered Captain who seemed desperate to re-ingratiate himself. 
     ‘I would be honoured,’ she said with a genuine smile.


     The bath was beautiful. The menfolk respectfully waited until Ædra was in the bath before making an appearance and they all lay back in the warm, steaming water. The old Roman garrison had been maintained in imaculate condition and renovated, where necessary, by Polimus who’s father had been in the Roman army itself, prior to the withdrawal of troops almost a century earlier. Polimus had married late in life and his wife had died at larum giving birth to their only son who was now in his teens. 
     The Captain’s wife, Emiliana, arrived after a few moments, along with her daughter, Melane, to care for Ædra. The Princess smiled to them as they slipped off their gowns and waded into the shallow water and kneeled before her, washing her gently. 
     ‘Have you been here long?’ asked Ædra. 
     ‘Since I was married, Princess,’ replied the older woman. 
     ‘Do you like it here?’ 
     ‘Most of the time. Though, in winter, it can be cold here and I long for my old home in Straffordd. Other than that, we are content.’ 
     ‘Are you kept busy?’ 
     ‘Not really. There are but thirty of us women here in this isolated place and I fear for my daughter’s future. She has little possibility of meeting anyone but soldiers here and I would like her to have a better future that being a soldier’s wife.’ 
     ‘But you are a soldier’s wife, aren’t you?’ 
     ‘I am, but it does have its drawbacks.’ 
     ‘I’m sure it does,’ said Ædra kindly, touching the woman on the arm. She turned to the daughter. ‘And what would you like to do, Melane?’ 
     The young girl bowed her head respectfully. She could not have been more that thirteen or fourteen, Ædra estimated, but her skin was flawless and she had clearly already developed most of the way to womanhood. 
     ‘Melane has grand ideas above her station, Princess,’ her mother replied for her. ‘She longs to get away from here and travel the country. I keep telling her that she must be resigned to living here, at least until she is wed.’ 
     Ædra touched the young girl on the cheek. She remembered that, by this age, she herself was away from her home and family, living with her brother in larum. ‘Do you read, Melane?’ 
     ‘Yes, Princess. I read Anglisc, British and Latin.’ 
     ‘You read Latin? How well?’ 
     ‘I help to translate the old documents for my father who is fascinated with the Roman occupation of the Wall area.’ 
     ‘Come and sit beside me, Melane,’ commanded Ædra. The young girl glanced nervously at her mother who nodded enthusiastically. Melane lay back, a little nervously, in the warm water beside her queen who put her arm around her bare shoulders. ‘Tell me, what else do you do?’ 
     ‘I sew, highness. My mother has taught me well.’ It was Emiliana’s turn to blush. ‘I can cook, I can clean house, I can ride...’ 
     ‘Ride!’ interrupted her mother. ‘Do you know that’s all she thinks of? Ever since her father bought her a horse, she spends all her time brushing it and riding it around the courtyard.’ 
     ‘I would learn properly if father would let me ride in the country,’ she exclaimed. The girl had spirit though being respectful in Ædra’s presence. 
     ‘You are too young,’ said her mother firmly. ‘When you are old enough to take care of yourself, you will be allowed out of the city area.’ 
     ‘I didn’t mean to start a family feud,’ said Ædra quietly. 
     ‘I’m sorry, Princess,’ said Emiliana. ‘The girl has ideas of great things.’ 
     ‘And so she should, at her age. This is a developing country and I have need of enterprising youngsters like this.’ She glanced at the subdued young girl. ‘What would you say if I offered you a job?’ 
     Melane’s eyes lit up. ‘What kind of a job?’ 
     Her mother scowled a little at her daughter’s forthrightness but Ædra continued. ‘A personal companion, initially. Ultimately, I think that you are intended for better things but Maid would be a start.’ 
     ‘Maid?’ she exclaimed. ‘To the the Queen of Britannia?’ 
     ‘Don’t go getting lofty ideas, young lady,’ teased Ædra. ‘I’m not your normal run-of-the-mill Princess who sits in a castle being waited upon hand and foot. I travel all over Britannia and Gaul and ride through blizzards, get dirty at times and often have to fight for my life and honour...’ 
     ‘Perfect,’ beamed Melane, bouncing up and down in her excitement. 
     ‘Steady,’ said Ædra, trying to avoid being splashed too much by the enthusiastic youngster. 
     ‘Can I, mother?’ Melane pleaded. 
     ‘You’d better ask your father,’ Emiliana suggested. Excited, the girl leapt out of the water and started to clamber out. 
     ‘Melane,’ called Ædra, holding up a piece of cloth and tossing it to her. The girl turned, caught the towel that had fallen from around her waist and blushed as she replaced it, running to hide her embarrassment as the men-folk looked the other way and tried desperately not to laugh. 
     ‘Princess,’ said Emiliana after her daughter had gone in search of her father. ‘Are you sure? Melane can be very wild at times.’ 
     ‘Emiliana,’ called Ædred. ‘If you think your daughter is wild, you should have seen my sister at that age. She was a real handful, I can tell y....’ 
     The towel hit him right across the face and they all collapsed, laughing, as Ædra glared at her brother with mock anger in her deep, blue eyes. 
     ‘Out! All of you,’ she instructed. ‘I can’t even have a bath in peace without being insulted. ‘Out, out.’ She shooed them away. 
     When they had gone, laughing as they went, Emiliana helped Ædra to her feet and dried her carefully. Stepping from the bath, Ædra slipped a dry towel around her waist and another around her wet hair, thanked Emiliana and entered Polimus’ private quarters adjacent to the room. She sang to herself as she rubbed her hair, walking round the room, her towel hanging on her narrow hips. She then saw something she had never seen before. 
     On the wall was fixed a giant polished-metal mirror. It had been so perfectly made that there was hardly any distortion as Ædra stood in front of it, looking at herself, from head to toe, for the first time in her life. 
     She was not immodest but she had to admit that she looked as good as she felt as she twisted around and admired herself in its polished surface. She was pleased that her hair had started to grow again and was almost to her shoulders as well as back to its normal colour. There was a metal brush on the side so she used it to comb through her hair, still singing as she turned, over and over again, in front of the mirror, fascinated. 
     A movement caught her eye. Stopping, her hands in mid comb, she stared into the mirror at the face between the curtains. 
     ‘I can see you,’ she said. The curtains closed and she turned and crawled, on her hands and knees, across the bed and then walked, barefoot, to the doorway that it hid. A young man of about sixteen cowered in the corner. 
     ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked pleasantly. 
     ‘I’m sorry,’ he said nervously. ‘I didn’t know you were here and wondered who it was.’ 
     ‘You must be Marcus,’ she greeted. 
     ‘Yes, I am,’ the youth admitted, fascinated with Ædras bare breasts. 
     Ædra looked down, not a bit embarrassed herself. She then remembered that his mother had died at childbirth. ‘Am I the first woman you have ever seen?’ 
     The boy nodded furiously, his eyes glued to her body. 
     ‘Come here,’ she said and he shuffled a little closer. ‘Don’t be afraid, I shan’t hurt you.’ 
     He stepped to within a yard of her. 
     ‘There is nothing bad or dirty about the human body, Marcus. It is what you do with it that is right or wrong. What do you want to do right now?’ 
     He hesitated. ‘Touch you,’ he finally whispered. 
     ‘That I cannot let you do. A woman must be respected for her beauty, if she has it. If you ever want to look at me, Marcus, just ask me. Don’t peer through the curtains as if it was something to be ashamed of, do you understand?’ 
     He nodded but didn’t move. 
     ‘You can go now. I would like to get dressed.’ 
     He didn’t move. 
     ‘If you think that you are going to see any more of me that you have already, think again.’ 
     ‘But you bathed with other men,’ he blurted out. ‘They told me at the heating house.’ 
     ‘Oh, they did, did they? Did they also tell you that the men were my brother and cousin?’ 
     He bowed his head. They obviously had not. He had taken her for a prostitute but had been caught by a Princess. He turned to leave. 
     ‘Marcus,’ she called. ‘I see no reason why your father should know about this, do you?’ 
     The relief was clear on his face and he nodded. 
     ‘I love you,’ he said, totally infatuated after his first glimpse of a bare breast. 
     ‘Will you do me a very great favour?’ she asked. 
     ‘Of course,’ he said, eager to please. 
     ‘Will you sit beside me at dinner? I need someone like you to look after me.’


     In spite of the starkness of the old Roman military headquarters at Novacæstir, the meal that was served was beyond compare. It was eaten Roman style with all the guests reclining on couches around a central table with a buffet type of meal available. Polimus sat at the head of the table and Ædred had ensconced himself at the far end between Jules and Pierre. Ædra sat next to Polimus with Marcus on the other side of her, hardly ever daring to take his eyes off her as she sat in a sheer white toga and with her golden torc around her neck. 
     At Ædra’s request, Melane joined them and sat opposite Ædra, next to Pierre, who was not entirely displeased at having a pretty young girl with smooth, bare shoulders next to him. Ædra winked at him and he blushed. 
     ‘So where are you headed?’ she heard Polimus ask through the murmur of voices. 
     ‘We are bound for Din Guayrdi to see Ida. I want to see his new fortress.’ 
     ‘I went up with the supply boat last month and it is magnificent, Princess,’ said Marcus, eager to gain favour. 
     Ædra smiled at him. ‘Tell me about it.’ 
     He blushed at her smile. ‘It is on the cliff-top at the end of the long sand bar that connects it with Metcaud and it has a wooden palisade that is almost a mile in length. There is a huge stables area and has housing for a hundred families.’ 
     ‘That sounds big, Ædra,’ said her brother. 
     ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ smiled Ædra, pleased with what Ida had apparently done. 
     ‘It will have to be strong,’ said Polimus. ‘There is no other place of any consequence between here and Odin’s Burgh.’ 
     ‘No towns at all?’ 
     ‘None. There is the little barley farm on the Tweed River that Ida and his brother built when they first landed in Northumbria. South of there are several other Anglisc farms, one that makes the most delightful cheeses and another on the Alne. In between are several other, smaller farms. Ida’s fort is all that stands between ourselves and the Cruithni.’ 
     ‘I don’t think that we need worry too much about the Picts for a few years. Not while Princesses Toreal and Roxana are with us. However, in time, we may have a problem so it’s best to be ready. No, my main concern right now is not of danger from the north but from the west.’ 
     ‘From Cwmria?’ 
     ‘Yes. Urien of Rheged has been making threats towards Ædred of late, claiming that Cattericatum is his by right. He even calls himself Llyw Catraeth, Lord of Cattericatum.’ 
     ‘I have heard nothing here, Ædra. His capital is just across the mountains, of course, at the other end of the Vallum. Lugovalium, we used to call the fort there, now derelict, of course. The Carletii disposed of everything that reminded them of the Roman occupation and they soon sank back into their old ways. Why are you concerned?’ 
     ‘Not for Ædred, that’s for sure.’ She smiled at her brother. ‘He is quite capable of defending Yorwick from Urien. We may have to increase the defences of Cattericatum, though. Whoever holds that fort, controls the whole of the Great North Road and it is too close to Yorwick for comfort.’ 
     ‘Ædra is concerned about his connections with the Bishop of Rome,’ said Ædred. 
     Even the normally unshakeable Polimus looked surprised. ‘Urien is no Christian, not even a token one. Why should he be in contact with the Church?’ 
     ‘Because they have a common aim, Commander. They would both like to be rid of my sister.’ 
     ‘I can understand why the Church would like to get rid of Ædra; she is far too outspoken on doctrinal matters for their liking. But why would Urien want to be rid of her?’ 
     ‘Because she holds the key to a united Britannia. She is a symbol, you see. Whilst she is alive, other kingdoms would rally to defend Yorwick if it were threatened. However, if she were dead, I’m certain that I could not command that same degree of loyalty. Only the knowledge that my sister is not, after all, dead, has stopped him attacking before now.’ 
     ‘But two more unlikely bedpartners I could never imagine,’ said Polimus. ‘Urien, a full-blooded Cymbric Celt, leading a bunch of cutthroat pagans on the one hand and the Church on the other? It doesn’t make any sense.’ 
     ‘Not at first, it doesn’t, Polimus,’ interrupted Ædra. ‘But think, the Church compromised with the Romans over doctrines, you know that. Half the traditions of the Church are not apostolic but pagan. If the Church will form an alliance with pagan Rome for its own ends, I can’t see the Bishop turning down an offer from Urien, especially if Urien agrees to pretend to be a Christian at some later date and persuades his people to likewise continue the pretence while, at the same time, carrying on pagan festivities.’ 
     Polimus laughed. ‘You are awfully hard on the Church. I’m sure it cannot be as bad as all that.’ 
     Ædra did not laugh. She said; ‘Then you do not know the half of it, my friend. Heathens have an excuse for being pagan; they’ve never known anything different. The Church, however, has the Holy Writings. It knows full well what the real truth is and chooses to ignore it for its own greedy ends. The real guilt is that it claims to be, not just “a” religion, but “the” religion, the “Truth”. The Bishop of Rome wouldn’t recognise truth if it jumped up and bit him.’ 
     They all burst out laughing. All, that is, except Ædra and Marcus–Ædra because she was still angry, Marcus in defence of his beloved Princess. 
     ‘How dare you?’ he shouted, standing. ‘The Princess is right, how dare you laugh at her?’ 
     There was a shocked silence at his outburst. Ædred looked at Ædra. Ædra looked back and winked mischievously then stood up, thanked Polimus for the meal, took Marcus by the hand and led him outside. Polimus didn’t know what to say. To take off the heat of the moment, Ædred asked ‘Tell me about the docks here, Polimus.’


     Aedra sat down and patted the bed beside her, looking up at Marcus. Normally, she might have joined in the laughter at his outburst of loyalty but she did not want to hurt the boy. After a moment of indecision, he sat down next to her. 
     ‘Marcus,’ she said. ‘There is something you should know.’ 
     He said nothing in reply, wondering what was coming. 
     ‘Every man in that room would die for me,’ she said. ‘I know it for fact and that includes your own father and, if I read you correctly, you feel the same way.’ 
     He sat up straight next to her. ‘I do indeed, Princess.’ 
     ‘Then I must tell you that those men have all know me a lot longer than you have, and they know when I am really upset and when I am not. If I was really offended, they would not have laughed, I am sure. Apart from anything else, they are all gentlemen and gentlemen do not offend a lady under any circumstances, whether she is a Princess or not.’ 
     His eyes watched her’s intently in the light from the single oil lamp on the wall as she continued. 
     ‘I want to thank you for your loyalty tonight. Although it was not necessary, it has touched me more than you can imagine. However...’ She paused, trying to find the words that would not hurt him, ‘...In standing up for me, you have offended some of my best friends, and also your own father.’ 
     ‘B..b..ut they were laughing at you,’ he stammered. 
     ‘No, they were laughing at what I said,’ Ædra soothed. ‘There is a difference.’ 
     The boy looked puzzled. ‘I don’t understand.’ 
     Gently, she took hold of his hand. ‘Marcus, I have need of loyal men like you.’ 
     He tittered nervously. 
     ‘Did I say something funny?’ 
     ‘You called me a man.’ 
     ‘To me, you are a man when you stand up to defend me, particularly when you are able to apologise to my friends afterwards.’ 
     ‘Apologise? Why should I?’ 
     She looked straight at him. ‘If you are not able to do that, you are not my friend because all my friends have learned to apologise to each other. Do you know, at some time or other, I have had to apologise to every one of those men out there?’ 
     ‘You have apologised to them? But you are the Queen. Why should you have to say sorry?’ 
     ‘Even queens get it wrong sometimes.’ 
     ‘I can’t,’ he said, looking down at his hands. 
     ‘You can, if you are half the man I believe you to be.’ 
     He looked up. ‘You really mean it?’ 
     She leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘I never kiss boys.’ 
     He was flabbergasted and they sat in silence for a long time. 
     ‘Can I kiss you back?’ he eventually said. 
     ‘Yes,’ she said, putting her finger to his lips before he could make contact; ‘...When you have apologised to your father and my friends.’ 
     ‘It’s a deal,’ he said, standing up. 
     Ædra smiled. Another bloodless conquest.


     The snow fell that night and all the next day, covering the land in a thick white blanket. Movement was impossible by land in any direction and the waters of the Tyn froze round the bridge. The men folk joined in the daily exercises in the yard which did not stop for mere snow. Ædred was a little out of condition and his sister laughed when he would come in, puffing and blowing like an old man. 
     While the others were out, Marcus among them at Ædra’s suggestion, she spent her time with Melane, teaching her the word of God and how to translate it from Latin into Anglisc. Ædra quoted from memory while Melane wrote in a small, neat hand that was a delight to read. 
     ‘We must do this properly one day,’ Ædra said. ‘It must be accurate, you see, when the words are so important. It is possible that I have made a mistake in what I have quoted to you and, if so, what you have written is of little use in teaching the truth.’ 
     ‘Does it need to be that accurate?’ the young girl asked later as she brushed Ædra’s hair. 
     ‘Oh, yes. It is the Word of God. A group of people called the Nasoretes are currently working at producing copies and are meticulous in their work, double-checking every single word to avoid a mistake being made. If we are to translate, we must be just as accurate. I have a copy of the Book in Gaul. We must get it and work at it together, you and I.’ 
     ‘I would like that very much, Princess.’ 
     I do have to warn you about something,’ Ædra said, turning to face her maid and gripping her hands in her own. ‘I have had several maids before now. They are all dead.’ 
     ‘Why?’ Melane asked. ‘Were they old?’ 
     The Princess shook her head sadly. ‘The first one was murdered in the most terrible manner.’ 
     ‘Murdered?’ Melane sat down suddenly. 
     ‘Her name was Mæve and she was killed because she loyally tried to protect me.’ 
     ‘Now terrible.’ 
     ‘It was. She was a good girl and I still miss her.’ 
     ‘What about the other one?’ 
     ‘Gwyndora? She killed herself because of her loyalty to me. I’m afraid that my maids do seem to have a very high mortality rate. The first was fifteen, the second, sixteen. One thing I cannot guarantee you if you become my Maid is a long life.’ 
     The young girl was silent for a moment before she made up her mind. ‘I still want to do it. I can take care of myself.’ 
     ‘That is what my brother says of me. I shoot, do you?’ 
     ‘No, Princess. Most of the men here are from cavalry regiments, so I ride mostly.’ 
     ‘So your mother said.’ 
     ‘My father wanted a son but he got me instead so, at the age of seven, I got so that I could hit an apple from the back of a horse.’ 
     ‘With what?’ 
     ‘With a javelin.’ 
     ‘Well, then,’ said Ædra, standing up and reaching for her cape. ‘I think that you and I will go and inspect the troops and I will introduce to them my new Lady in Waiting-cum-bodyguard, Lady Melane Straffordd, First Duchess of Novacæstir.’


     Despite the cold, the men still trained. Ædra and Melane wandered around the courtyard together as they drilled and practised many forms of armed and unarmed combat. The shooting range was at the far end where Jules and Pierre were practising along with several of the local guards as the girls approached. The men smiled and bowed. 
     ‘Can I try that?’ asked Ædra of the trainer after the men had let fly their arrows now grouped around the bull in the centre of the target. One of the men handed her a bow which she deliberately held upside-down. 
     ‘How do you work this thing?’ she innocently asked of the trainer. 
     He took the bow from her with a smirk and handed it back to her the right way up and also gave her a single arrow, standing well back, out of the line of fire. “Women playing at soldiers,” was written all over his face as Ædra fitted the notch to the string, winked at Jules and drew back her arm. 
     ‘Am I doing it right?’ 
     ‘Well, sort of, Princess,’ the trainer replied. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll ever make an archer but just let go when you are ready.’ 
     Ædra just smiled at him and let go of the string. 
     There was a deathly silence as she handed the bow back to him. 
     ‘Your turn,’ she said to Melane with a cheeky smile on her face. 
     The young maid slipped the cloak from her shoulders and pulled a javelin from the ground. Walking back a few paces, she kicked off her shoes and stood, barefoot, on the frozen clay. With a short run, she threw back her arm and launched. 
     Ædra’s arrow now looked a mess. It had landed dead centre of the target but it was now split down the centre by the heavier javelin. 
     ‘Touché,’ said Princess Ædra of Camelot, curtseying to her embarrassed maid. 

- Din Guayrdi -

     The snow lay on the ground for a long time making land travel impossible. In the end, a decision was made to travel by sea as soon as the river thawed. In the meantime, Polimus continued to make the Royal Family welcome. Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and it was early March before they could leave the fort and venture northwards once more. 
     It was not a large boat. The sail was rusty red in colour but it was some time before it could be hoisted. Setting sail from South Shields as the sun rose, the boat was rowed out the safety of the Tyn estuary and out onto the swelling Norsey. 
     The wind was cold as Ædra and Melane sat huddled in the bottom of the boat while the sailors shipped oars and hoisted sail. The cliffs of Whitley Bay marked the spot where, many centuries previously, industrious workers had quarried flint to make axe heads and spear points for export to all parts of the then sparsely-populated Britannia, or Albion, as the island had been known. 
     At first, the voyage went well. By mid-morning, they were passing Blyth Point and, by noon, were off the Alne estuary. At first, the Cliffs were high and craggy with few inlets and looked, from the sea, very bleak and forbidding but, as they got further north, the cliffs gradually turned into rolling dunes where the land appeared to tumble into the sea over rocky shelfs that guarded small bays along the coast. It turned cold again as the sun disappeared over the cliffs on their left and Marcus, who had somehow persuaded his father to let him come as far as Ida’s fort, pointed ahead. 
     ‘It’s the Faruns,’ he shouted over the noise of the wind in the flapping sail. ‘There are about thirty small islets in all, most of them lying a couple of miles or so out to sea. The largest, Metcaud, is a bit further round the headland and closer to the land. We should see it in a few minutes if it stays light enough.’ 
             ‘Is Metcaud very big?’ asked Ædra. 
     ‘Bigger than all the others put together. There is a safe anchorage behind the island and several dry causeways to the mainland. Ida’s scouts will have seen us by now and will have organised someone to meet us in the haven.’ 
     ‘Behind the island?’ 
     ‘Yes. If the tide is right, the Captain will try to turn her into the bay. The bay itself is safe but the entrance is between two reefs at the end of a long sand bar and it can be dangerous in high seas.’ 
     Ædra looked over his shoulder, out to sea. ‘What’s that hazy area beyond the islands?’ 
     Marcus strained his eyes in the dusk to see. ‘Where?’ 
     ‘There,’ she pointed. ‘That white patch around the edge of the rocks.’ 
     ‘Good grief, you’ve got good eyesight.’ 
     ‘Get the Captain to turn the boat,’ said Ædra suddenly. 
     ‘Why?’ he asked, confused. 
     ‘Just do it. Quickly.’ 
     ‘What is it?’ 
     Ædra stood up and pushed past him. ‘Captain, turn the boat around immediately before we get trapped in the Sound.’ 
     The Captain looked Ædra up and down. Princess she might be, sailor she wasn’t. 
     ‘It is difficult,’ he made his excuse. ‘We are too near Harkness Rocks beneath the fort.’ 
     ‘Then turn to face the seas, or we will be swamped.’ 
     Try as he may, he could not prevent a little smile from touching his lips as he looked with pity at the demented girl who was quite obviously petrified of the sea he knew like the back of his hand. 
     ‘Can’t you hear it?’ she shouted above the howl of the wind in the rigging. 
     ‘Hear what?’ he asked as the boat continued its northward course with the white surf of the waves clearly seen breaking onto the long sand bar on their left. 
     ‘The big waves, of course. They’re breaking over the Outer Faruns now.’ 
     What did this girl know? He strained to listen, the growing darkness inhibiting visibility beyond a few hundred yards. But now he came to think of it, she was right, there was a strange sound and the sea did seem to be heaving in an odd sort of way. 
     ‘Hard a port,’ he shouted suddenly, hoping to reach the land before the waves struck. 
     ‘No,’ shouted Ædra. ‘Turn into the wind. Meet the seas head-on.’ 
     He looked across at her as she stood, wide-eyed, a few feet away from him, as if pleading for him to blindly obey despite all his training and instincts which told him that this was simply an unusually high tide coupled with a wind that had unpredictably veered to the East. 
     ‘Hard a starboard,’ he corrected and the men paused only a moment before straining on the rudder bar in a effort to twist the now-frantically rolling boat to the right. It was almost pitch black and only the tops of the waves glistened white, looking luminous against the background as the waves began to pile up under the bows. The Captain looked nervously behind the boat where the sand bar across the bay slowly seemed to move across the stern rail. 
     ‘Lower the sail,’ he commanded as the water ran down his face, looking haggard in the poor light. 
     Marcus looked lost but he desperately tried not to show his fear as the sails fell to the deck and sailors rushed to store the great folds. The oarsmen were at their posts without the need of an order and they strained to keep the ship on an even keel, head-on to the wind and seas that seemed to tower over the gunwales. 
     ‘How did you know?’ asked Ædred of his sister. 
     ‘The noise,’ explained idra. ‘I heard the sound of the breakers on the far side of the islands.’ 
     ‘Why didn’t I hear it?’ 
     ‘I don’t know. Are the others all right?’ 
     ‘I think so. A little seasick, maybe.’ He looked around, then put his mouth close to her ear. ‘Marcus looks terrified.’ 
     ‘He’s trying not to show it. I have a feeling that he’s trying his best to impress me.’ 
     ‘Why?’ 
     Ædra looked bashful. ‘He says he loves me.’ 
     Ædred laughed. ‘Tell me who doesn’t.’ 
     ‘The Bishop of Rome for one,’ she yelled, hanging onto the mast for dear life as the boat seemed the dive into a trough. ‘Urien of Rheged for another.’ 
     Ædred struggled forward towards the others as the waves rolled by, lifting the bows and bursting from the stern to crash onto the shingle and rocks close behind them. 
     ‘When I say the word,’ shouted the Captain to his crew; ‘Turn her right round and run for the entrance to the bay.’ 
     Men nodded as they struggled to keep the boat steady against the wind and waves that drove them northward. Ædra was soaked to the skin as she held onto the mast with one hand and Marcus with the other while Ædred crouched in the bows with the two Gallic relatives and Melane as they all seemed to wait for the inevitable end. 
     ‘Now!’ shouted the Captain. 
     The boat seemed to twist upon its own stern and career towards the barely-visible coastline. The small gap into the haven was barely discernible in the darkness, only the whiteness of the surf on the rocks beneath the southern headland of Metcaud indicating the point where the waters drained from the Flatts surrounding the haven. 
     They nearly didn’t make it any further as a larger than normal wave broke onto the stern, spinning the boat round, throwing several of the sailors into the sea. 
     ‘Hold on tightly to me,’ said Ædra to Marcus. 
     ‘I can’t swim,’ he suddenly screamed clutching at her with stark fear in his eyes. 
     ‘Well, now’s your chance to learn,’ she said, peering over the high gunwale. She called to Ædred who nodded and then motioned to the others. 
     One minute they were in the boat, the next they were under water, the hull of the boat nudging them aside as it gathered speed to commit suicide on the stony beach. 
     It felt as if Ædra’s arm was being wrenched from its socket as she hung on tightly to Marcus’ tunic, her hand deliberately twisted into the tough material. Another form crashed into her and she reached out to grab it. It turned out to be Jules as he struggled to keep his head above water. 
     ‘Are you all right?’ Ædra shouted before swallowing a mouthful of sea water. 
     ‘I can’t find Pierre,’ he retorted, helping her with Marcus. ‘He must be here somewhere.’ 
     Just at that moment, their feet touched the sand bar but the undertow tried to drag them back under the waves as they struggled to keep their footing against the sliding pebbles and gravel. Ædra fell heavily with Marcus on top of her and she coughed violently as sea water poured down her throat. The stronger Jules scrambled up the sliding mass of sand, dragging the limp Marcus after him as the next wave burst upon them with a jarring crash. 
     Ædra was tossed around like a cork as she turned over and over in the water before being slammed onto the beach as the water again began to recede, starting another avalanche that followed the cruel undertow. Knee-deep in sand and gravel, she clambered frantically out of the sea before collapsing just out of reach of the jaws of those hungry waves. 
     Aftew a few moments of lying, exhausted, upon the shingle, she looked around her and could vaguely see the outline of figures close by her in the darkness and was almost deafened by the unending crashing and roaring of the breakers on the nearby rocks and along the bar. She recognised Jules and Marcus, Ædred and the Captain but, searching wildly, she could see neither Pierre nor Melane. 
     ‘Where are the others?’ she called to no-one in particular but received no answer. Staring frantically out to sea, she could see nothing but menacing black waves with white crests as they smashed down onto the beach before roaring away again at high speed, trying to suck the entire beach away with them. 
     Then she saw them. 
     A great spar had broken free from the ship and caught in the rocks at the end of the bar and Melane and Pierre were holding on to it as it bobbed up and down with the waves, still fixed at one end to the boat which was wedged between two sections of flattish rock being slowly but inexorably battered to pieces in front of their eyes. 
     Before her brother could stop her, Ædra hit the water in a flat dive and struggled up the face of the next wave. Fighting all the way with energy she did not think she had left, she splashed through the icy water towards them. As she was lifted up by a large wave, a great force smashed her on the side of the head. She realised it was the mast that the others were hanging onto and she fought for breath as the stars spun around inside her head. 
     Something grabbed hold of her leg and she panicked momentarily until she realised that it was one of the ropes from the rigging that was hanging loose on the water. 
     Holding tightly to it, she let herself be swung round until she could reach the spar and pull herself a little out of the water. Slipping on the wet timber, she felt a little hand grab her chemise at her neck and pull her forward. Bursting from the depths, she caught a glimpse of Melane’s face before being forced under again. 
     Kicking with all her strength, Ædra again resurfaced and clung on tightly to the mast. Melane was beside her, holding on firmly to Pierre, who looked very scared as they continued to rise and fall with every wave. After a few moments, Ædra got her breath back and nodded to Melane who smiled back. 
     ‘I’ll take him,’ said Ædra and wrapped her hand into his tunic as she had with Marcus. Waiting for the right moment, she launched herself towards the shore, her precious cargo dragging behind her, blood streaming down his face from a head wound. 
     It was relatively easy. Good timing and incredible fortune dumped them both a yard from Ædred and Jules who dragged them both from the water. Ædra lay where she was, her heart beating frantically, wishing that life would go away and leave her to die in peace. 
     A cry jolted her into action. A giant wave was poised to smash onto the beach when the spar broke loose. Seemingly out of the sky tumbled Melane, ropes from the rigging wrapped around her defenceless body, dragging her along and rolling her head-over-heels down the face of the wave as it reared up to burst onto the beach. 
     They stared in disbelief as the wave rolled right over both the young girl and the spar which was dragging her under and both Ædred and Jules had to hold Ædra down onto the sand to prevent her dashing to the rescue. There was a great crashing boom and the beach turned white with foaming froth until the wave retreated, dragging the shingle down with it. 
     It was the last big wave of that night and the whole beach seemed to be on the move as Ædred took his life in his hands and scrambled down to the water’s edge, searching frantically about in the darkness. There were pieces of timber and jetsum of all sorts everywhere but of the brave Melane there was no sign whatsoever.

     Jules sat on Ædra’s prone from. It was the only way to hold her down and stop her from rushing into the water once more. Despite her strong desire, her energy soon gave out and she lay, weeping profusely, cuts and bruises all over her legs from the grating shingle. Jules sat panting, wishing things could have been different, feeling the frustration of his cousin as she lay under him.
     The surface of the sea was calmer now but totally devoid of life. 
     Ædra closed her eyes and began to concentrate while her brother paced the water’s edge, staring for any hint of the brave girl who had certainly saved the life of Pierre and probably Ædra herself when she had been knocked almost unconscious by the rampant main spar. The piece of timber in question bobbed to the surface near to him and he could Just make out the taught ropes along its length in the light from the foam. 
     He turned to the Captain. ‘Do you have a knife?’ 
     The Captain reached to his belt and, without comment, handed Ædred the blade. Stepping into the water, the King started to hack at the cords which were tightly wound round the shaft, remembering that Melane had been trapped by those very same ropes. It took a long time as his hands kept going numb and he almost dropped the knife several times but, as each rope came free, he hauled on it until it was clear that it was unattached. 
     His legs had already lost all feeling but he dare not give out. His sister would never forgive him if he did not eliminate every possibility of finding the girl, dead or alive. Gradually, over the next quarter-hour, he worked his way along the timber, getting deeper with each minute, until he was able to cut free the last section. 
     His shoulders slouched as the last rope came up empty in his hand, and he turned to head for the beach, heavy of heart. Suddenly, he heard a cry and looked round. Jules was excitedly pointing at something in the water. Fighting through the breakers, Ædred struggled in the direction of Jules’ arm and something bumped into him in the near darkness. It was Melane, floating face-down in the icy water. 
     He struggled with her and dragged her to where he could just stand and lifted her head clear of the water. There was no sign of any life in that limp form which had been trapped under the water for at least twenty minutes. 
     A movement beside him nudged him into life again and Jules helped him to drag and carry the body further up the beach. Torches had begun to appear close to them as men from the fort, seeing the disaster, rushed down to help in any way they could. Clothes were brought and wrapped around them as they stared down at the scrap that had so recently been so full of life and energy. 
     Ædra crawled over and tried to turn Melane onto her back. 
     ‘Don’t,’ cried her brother. ‘You’re wasting your time. She’s been under too long.’ 
     Ædra was furious. ‘If you can’t help, then get out of my way. Melane is not going to die.’ 
     ‘But, Ædra,’ said Jules kindly. ‘What Ædred is trying to say is that she is already dead. No-one could possibly have survived. Apart from the drowning, it looks as if one of her arms is broken and by the blood on her chest, several of her ribs. Give it up, it’s too late to help her now.’ 
     ‘But I have to try, her parents trusted me with her.’ 
     ‘They will not blame you for what has happened.’ No-one could have done more than you have to to save her.’ 
     ‘Help me with her,’ commanded Ædra. 
     Ædred looked at Jules and shrugged. 
     ‘Now! Both of you. Turn her so that her head is lower down the slope of the beach.’ 
     Begrudgingly, they gently picked up the limp body and did as Ædra had instructed. 
     ‘Get warm clothes,’ she said. ‘Quickly.’ 
     Laying back her head, Ædra let the water run from the girl’s throat and lungs. As it did, she opened her chemise and looked at the mess that had been an unblemished pair of breasts a matter of days ago and almost wept again. She was no expert at bones so she would have to trust that Ida had a healer at the fort who could bind her up or do whatever was necessary. But for now, all she had to do was to get her breathing again. 
     Ædra remembered reading once at Camelot of how cold slows down the body’s metabolism. She did not understand how or why it happened but there was just a chance that the freezing water might just have given her enough time. 
     Gently, she tried blowing into the girl’s mouth. She could not press on her chest because of the damaged ribs and the last thing that she wanted to do was to puncture the youth’s lungs by over-enthusiastic pressure. 
     Clothing came for both of them and Ædra shielded the girl’s face from the wind as she continued to try to force air into her lungs. After half an hour, she had had enough and pleaded with her brother to continue while she lay back on the wet sand, the borrowed clothing wrapped tightly around her own frozen body. 
     Jules bent down and picked her up in his strong arms. ‘There is nothing more that you can do here. You need to get somewhere warm yourself, before you freeze to death.’ 
     Ædra nodded sadly. He was right, they had tried but failed. 
     Ædred watched Jules carry his sister away and gave Melane one last, deep puff that raised her lungs high before they fell back once more under gravity. 
     ‘Damn it all,’ he swore with a ferocity that he had never shown before and slapped at the sand. Unfortunately, he caught the edge of Melane’s arm, the one that was broken. There was a sudden intake of breath and he turned his head instinctivelv and stared as Melane started to cough and retch. 
     His arm flew under her head and lifted it as she fought for her breath and clutched at her bleeding arm. 
     ‘It’s all right. I’ve got you,’ he said. 
     Wrapping clothing around her, he held her as tightly as he dare as men gathered around, eager to help, smiles on their faces. Carefully, they picked her up and Ædred laid her damaged arm across her chest and covered her with the blanket. 
     ‘Go very slowly,’ he ordered. ‘She is badly hurt and needs the attention of a healer as soon as possible. She may be alive but is severely damaged.’ 
     The small group wound its way up the slope to the fort where Ida awaited them. A big fire roared in the Great Hall as Ædra was laid on a cot beside it. She could hardly keep her eyes open and smiled faintly at Ida’s wife, Bebrun, as he took her hand, lit by the flickering light from the flames. 
     ‘You certainly know how to make an entrance, Princess,’ said the old Anglisc woman. ‘We shan’t forget this visit for a long time.’ 
     Ædra was too tired to speak so just smiled and squeezed her hand. Within seconds, she was fast asleep, her golden hair shining in the glow from the fire. 
     Melane was brought in and laid beside her and, all through the night, the healer worked on her. He gently strapped up her crushed ribs and put splints on her broken arm as ointment was applied to her cuts and scrapes as it was to Ædra as she slept. By daybreak, both girls slept peacefully together, the silence disturbed only by the crackling of the logs on the fire. 
     Aedra stirred as the sun finally broke through the mist over the sea and peered in through the high window in the wooden palace. Opening her eyes slowly, she saw the still form beside her, covered in blankets, and memory flooded back. She sat bolt upright. 
     Why had they brought Melane’s body in here? Why did they leave her to remind idra of how she had failed to save the life of the poor, young girl? She sat on the other cot and gently stroked the fine, auburn hair that seemed to shimmer in the light from the flickering fire. 
     ‘How are my patients this morning?’ asked Bebrun as she entered, a tray of food in her hands. 
     ‘P..p..patients?’ Ædra stammered. ‘You mean...?’ She looked down at Melane and gently pulled back the blanket from the young girl’s face. 
     ‘She will sleep for some time, I expect,’ Ida’s wife replied. ‘But she will live, thanks to you and your brother.’ 
     Tears of joy dripped onto Ædra’s hand as she looked down at the friend whom she was so sure had died. 
     ‘With respect, Princess,’ said Bebrun, ‘I suggest you get dressed. You have a visitor and you cannot see him in your nightdress.’ 
     ‘A visitor?’ 
     ‘Someone who is very eager to meet you. You must use my room to get dressed. I will care for Melane.’ 
     ‘Bebba, you are a marvel.’ Ædra hesitated. ‘But I have nothing to wear. All my things were lost in the boat.’ 
     ‘No problem. I have left out some clothes for you on the bed and also some for Melane when she wakes up. You run along now and greet your visitor.’ 
     Ten minutes later, it was a relatively majestic Princess who walked into the Palace hallway towards Ædred and Jules who were in the company of a vaguely familiar man with long hair and a pleasant smile. 
     He bowed as she approached. ‘Welcome to Berernicia, Princess Ædra.’ 
     ‘The land of Barley. I like that.’ 
     ‘With respect, Your Majesty, you are just as I imagined you.’ 
     Ædra looked puzzled and her brother put her out of her misery. ‘May I introduce Prince Lindis of Metcaud, brother of King Ida of Northumbria. I met him along the sand bar. He is the only Christian in these parts.’ 
     Ædra curtsied low to her subsidiary ruler’s brother. ‘I am honoured.’ 
     Lindis was dumbfounded. Here was he, a mere Christian missionary, being bowed to by Sainte Ædra of larum, the Queen of Britannia. He took Ædra’s hand in his. ‘It is I who am honoured, Princess. I have waited a long time for this moment. I have much to discuss with you.’ 
     ‘Then you shall take me to Metcaud, Lindis, and show me your island. I have come a long way to see it.’ 
     ‘It would be a pleasure,‘ he said. ‘My home is humble, but you are most welcome.’ He looked at her. ‘Might I recommend a cape, Princess, the wind can be cold on the Ross. 
     ‘The Ross?’ 
     ‘The sand dunes along the bar to the island. Do you know that there are over a thousand types of wildfowl along these shores and there are seals on the islands as well as many kinds of fish in Budle Bay?’ 
     ‘You sound as if you like it here,’ she said, slipping her hand through his arm. 
     ‘I love it.’ he said. ‘It gives me time to meditate on the Word of God.’ 
     Ædred and Jules watched them walk down the slope to the beach together as if they had known each other all their lives. 
     ‘Your sister is a very remarkable person,’ observed Jules. 
     ‘I have always thought so,’ agreed Ædred. ‘How is Pierre this morning?’ 
     ‘Much better for rest. He has a nasty cut on his head and has something that Bebba called concussion. Other than that, he seems well.’ 
     ‘We were lucky to lose no-one last night.’ He looked out along the bar to where his sister and her companion were already mere dots against the creamy-coloured sand. ‘If Melane had died, Ædra would never have forgiven herself.’ 
     ‘Is someone talking about me?’ came a little voice from behind them. 
     ‘Melane!’ they said together. 
     ‘You should be in bed,’ said Ædred sternly. 
     ‘Bebba said that I could get up if I stayed inside the palace. I feel much better now.’ She looked at Ædred. ‘I gather I have you to thank for saving my life.’ 
     Ædred blushed and turned away. 
     ‘It was nothing,’ he said, remembering how it had been Ædra who had forced him to continue breathing into her lungs when he had been ready to give up what had seemed like a pointless exercise. He put his arm carefully around her shoulders. ‘I’ll let you into a secret.’ 
     Melane looked puzzled. 
     ‘It was really all Ædra’s doing. If I had let you die, she would have never spoken to me again.’ 
     It was good to hear her laugh even though it obviously hurt her as she clutched at her chest with her good arm while the left one was strapped up in a kind of sling around her neck. 
     ‘I must go to her,’ she said eventually, looking around. 
     ‘But you promised Bebba to stay in the palace,’ said Ædred seriously. ‘Ida may well be the King in Northumbria but this is definitely Bebba’s fort.’ 
     ‘Bebba’s Burgh,’ she mused. ‘It sounds so much better than Din Guayrdi.’ 
     Jules laughed. ‘Anything sounds better than Din Guayrdi.’ 
     Melane had to clutch at her damaged ribs again as she sat down and laughed.


     The view from the headland was superb as Ædra had always imagined that it would be. The wind ruffled her hair as she sat on the coarse grass looking out across the island that was Lindis’ Farun. The rise upon which she sat, her companion beside her, was the only high point on the long island. To the east, the island dropped sharply into the sea over a great bank of craggy rocks while, to the north, there were huge dunes between the headland and the Snipe, as the great Skerrs were called that stuck out of the sea, black and ugly against the gently-swishing white surf. 
     The main haven lay to the south with a narrow inlet between two flat ridges of shale and rocks that prevented the Norsey from disturbing the peace within the harbour itself. Several ships were at anchor near to the island whilst other, smaller boats lay, stranded, upon the sandy Flatts revealed at low-tide. Across these Flatts, there were several pathways, safe to those who knew the route, in and out of the treacherous quicksands. 
     At the other end of the long bar was the fortress that Ida had built to protect Britannia from the marauding Picts from the north. 
     ‘Who lives here, beside yourself?’ Ædra asked suddenly, disturbing the peace and quiet. 
     ‘No-one. I’m all alone here. Once, there were fishermen living beside the harbour, but the Picts have either killed them or frightened them away.’ 
     ‘Do they still attack?’ 
     ‘Not since Borin died and you were given Gododdin as part of Northumbria. It’s just since that time, the land has gradually become more and more deserted. It is true to may that, over the years, many strange happenings have taken place.’ 
     Ædra was now interested. ‘Such as?’ 
     ‘Well...’ he began. ‘To start with, there is the Roman Road called Devil’s Causeway.’ 
     ‘What has a Roman Road got to do with the Devil?’ 
     ‘Nothing.’ 
     ‘Then why...?’ 
     ‘At first, the Romans came only as far as Novacæstir and Emperor Hadrian had the wall built am a boundary. However, succeeding Emperors wanted to venture further north as far as what is now Berernwick, the place where our younger brother has his farm beside the Tweed. To reach the Tweed mouth, the soldiers had to cross the wild moors above the Till Valley. The moors are barren and eerie, especially when the wind blows as it usually does, and the few locals who inhabited the hills and valleys around the moor at that time devised a plan to frighten the Romans, who were very superstitious.’ 
     ‘What did they do?’ 
     ‘They built a series of strange stone markers and circles at various points close to the where the Romans were building their road. At night, they would make strange sounds which, when coupled with the howling of the wind, made frightening noises which petrified the poor Romans. They believed that the Devil himself was after them so they called the road The Devil’s Causeway, when really it was all one big hoax.’ 
     Ædra laughed and lay back on the grass. ‘And they believed it?’ 
     ‘Not for long. Eventually, the trick was discovered and the Romans were so impressed by the ingenuity of the tribes who perpetrated the deceit that they forgave them and granted them a charter. The Votadini, as the tribe was called, saw the funny side of it and actually ended up helping the Romans, who treated them well.’ 
     ‘And the Devil’s Causeway?’ 
     ‘It never lost its name. The Romans left the name to remind them of how thousands of brave soldiers had been frightened by a relative handful of peasant farmers.’ 
     ‘Is it far from here?’ 
     ‘Just a few miles inland.’ He pointed. ‘You see that great forest that covers those hills to the west?’ 
     Her eyes followed him arm. ‘Yes, I see it.’ 
     ‘The Causeway runs over the moor Just beyond that. There is nothing much to see, really. Once you’ve seen one Roman Road, you’ve seen them all.’ 
     Ædra laughed. ‘You sceptic.’ 
     ‘Well,’ he said. ‘All this Devil business is poppycock, isn’t it?’ 
     ‘Do you really think so?’ 
     ‘Of course. The druids were harmless enough and there is no such thing as evil powers and magicians.’ 
     Ædra fell silent. 
     ‘Is there?’ he asked, suddenly unsure of himself. 
     Ædra abruptly jumped to her feet and held out her hand. Lindis stood up and faced her. 
     ‘Have I said something wrong?’ 
     Ædra said nothing but stood, her hand still reaching out to him. He took it. He screamed.


     Lindis lay on the grass, his face covered in sweat, his body numb. Peering round, he saw Ædra standing Just a few steps away, staring out to sea. 
     He tried to stand but felt sick as his head swam. Ædra turned and kneeled beside him. ‘Never doubt again, Lindis. What you experienced was Just a little of the evil I have seen in my life.’ 
     ‘But it was horrible,’ he said, forcing back the bile in his throat. ‘How can you stand it?’ 
     ‘I stand it only with the power of God. Without that to console me, I would have killed myself long ago. Remember, the Lord Jesus was tempted by the Devil, not some evil inside him, he had no evil. It was the devil’s agents, the demons, that he fought and expelled from people many times during his lifetime. The Devil is real, Lindis, as are his agents, spirit and human.’ 
     ‘How do you recognise them?’ 
     ‘With great difficulty at times. When in doubt, I remember Jesus’ words “By their fruits you will recognise them.” At the time, he was speaking about the Scribes and the Pharisees, religious leaders who tried to mislead the Jews in the name of God. Now, the devil is using the Church to accomplish the same ends. Outwardly, the religious leaders appear holy and righteous whilst, inside, they practice greed and hypocrisy. Remember, St Paul said that we should not be surprised at this because, often, the Devil transforms himself into what appears to be an Angel of Light to deceive people.’ 
     ‘He certainly has deceived me.’ 
     ‘Oh yes. The greatest confidence trick of all time is to convince people that he does not exist. In that, he has been extremely successful.’ 
     ‘But you showed me terrible things, Ædra. I saw children tortured and women slaughtered by their millions.’ 
     ‘That is what the Church will accomplish through persecutions and inquisitions. The Church does not seek God, it seeks power and riches, exactly opposite to the Christianity Jesus taught, that of love and peace. As long as the Church is strong, there will be no peace, not in Britannia nor in Gaul. Wherever it spreads, trouble and death will follow, you mark my words.’ 
     ‘Then Christianity, as it should really be practised, will die?’ 
     ‘Not if I have my way, Lindis. The truth must become known before it is too late and you must help me.’ 
     ‘I am at your command. Show me how.’ 
     ‘You must preach the Kingdom of which Jesus spoke, that for which he taught us to pray “Your Kingdom Come.” You must preach it far and wide.’ 
     ‘I will do that, Ædra.’ 
     Her voice softened. ‘You will need God’s help, my friend, you cannot do the work alone. Remember what Jesus said just before he ascended to heaven; “I am with you till the end of the world.”’ 
     ‘The end of the world?’ he asked, concerned. ‘Is the world to end?’ 
     ‘Not the planet, but the evil world as we know it. The earth must stay. Did not Jesus also say “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth?” How could the meek inherit the earth if is is to end?’ 
     ‘Then there will be a better world?’ 
     ‘One day, yes. A world of peace and happiness.’ 
     ‘One that is not Just a dream?’ 
     She shook her head. ‘I have seen it in my dreams. It is very real to me.’ 
     ‘Ædra. Your faith is very strong.’ 
     ‘It is the only thing that keeps me going. Without faith, I am nothing.’ 
     ‘I will do as you ask, Princess Ædra of Camelot. In the words of the prophet Isaiah, “Here am I, send me.”’ 
     ‘In the words of Jesus of Nazareth; “Go, therefore and make disciples. Teach them to observe all the things that I have commanded you.”’ 
     He bowed to Ædra. ‘That I will gladly do.’


     The lone horseman reined in on the ridge above the Tyn. Maybe the Brood would be here. Dismounting, he stood beside his horse as the larks sang above the open moorland around him. Below, in the valley, the river flowed ceaselessly into the Normey.
     Following Merlin’s instructions to the letter, he had been to Yorwick and thence to larum without success. Maybe here, he would find them. He withdrew his sword; Excalibur would know where to find them. Holding the great sword aloft, he allowed it to show him the way. Due north, it indicated, across the wooden bridge below him. 
     He had felt honoured to have been chosen by the great magician and been brought to Britannia to complete this particular quest. Now that he was close to his destination, he felt the pride rise again in his heart. Many had tried to dispose of King Arthur’s Brood; Sir Gawain of Camelot, the druids on the Tor, the Picts, the Church; one day, it had to happen. Little did the Brood know it but they were, at this moment, in far greater danger than ever before. A force greater and much more deadly than their power could cope with was poised to strike. 
     ‘There is a little matter that I want you to take care of,’ Merlin had said to him at Glastonbury. 
     He smiled to himself. One thing was certain, Merlin had chosen well. He, of all people, was going to enjoy taking care of King Arthur’s Brood. 

- The Cheviot -

     A week after Ædra’s arrival in Berernicia, Ida held a grand banquet. All the local thegns were invited as were the chieftains from the Tweed and Alne valleys. As the weather was fine, they all sat outside, upon the headland, around a massive fire with a young bullock roasting on a spit. 
     Minstrels were there singing songs about the mountains of Gododdin and of the sea, while jugglers performed to the delight of the guests. It was not long before the inevitable happened, Ædra, Jules and Pierre were pressured into performing their acrobatic act in front of them all. The group was fascinated, nothing like it having been seen before by most of them. Ædra was very happy and blushed as they all clapped, all except Melane who had some difficulty with her left arm in a splint. 
     It was as the sun set slowly below Grunsheen Hill that the rider arrived. Ida stood up to meet him. 
     ‘Theodoric, my friend, welcome to my home,’ Ida greeted, hands outstretched. 
     ‘Peace be with you, Ida,’ returned the stranger, bowing also to Ædra as she stepped, barefoot, over to Ida, her skirts tucked into her waistband, her hair tied back behind her head. ‘I bring sad news, I’m afraid.’ 
     ‘Bad news?’ interjected Bebrun, her hand on her husband’s shoulder. 
     ‘Invaders approach from the south-west, Your Majesties. They have crossed the North Tyn during the day and have destroyed the villages of Woodburn and Otterburn.’ 
     ‘Where are they now?’ 
     ‘Camped in the Rede Valley close to Rochecæstir. There are many thousands of them.’ 
     ‘Who are these invaders, Theodoric?’ asked Ædred. 
     The messenger looked oddly at the younger man. 
     Ida introduced them all. ‘This is King Ædred of Diera.’ 
     The men bowed to each other in greeting. Ida smiled as Theodoric’s gaze drifted to Ædra. ‘And the scruffy young lady with the dirty face is the Queen of Britannia.’ 
     The visitor’s mouth fell open am his eyes started at the bare feet and wandered up the long, suntanned legs to the hands on the hips, skinny arms and open-necked chemise topped by an impish face with big, blue eyes, framed by golden hair. He glanced back to Ida to make sure that he was not being made a fool of. 
     Ædra smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you, Theodoric. Any friend of Ida’s is a friend of mine.’ 
     ‘Your Majesty,’ he said, bowing, still unsure of himself. 
     ‘Who dares attack King Ida of Northumbria?’ she asked politely. 
     ‘Chieftains of the Carletti,’ he replied. ‘Rhydderch, Gaullauc and Morcant, Lord of Cwmria. They are led by Urien of Rheged.’ 
     ‘So,’ smiled Ædra. ‘Our spy, whoever he is, has told him where to find me.’ 
     ‘Are you at war with Urien?’ asked Bebrun. 
     ‘No, Bebba, not officially. It would appear that he is acting as an agent of the Church. They tried to get Emilio to betray me but failed, so now they try a less subtle approach. Urien will have been paid well to make sure that I stay dead.’ 
     ‘Then we must make sure that he does not succeed,’ said Bebba. ‘Don’t you agree, my dear?’ 
     ‘Of course,’ said Ida. ‘The problem is that this is a small fort and will be hard-stretched to stand against an army such as that of Urien.’ 
     ‘Then we must confuse him,’ said Ædra. ‘While we send for reinforcements.’ 
     ‘Who will help us, Ædra?’ asked Jules. 
     ‘Polimus at Novacæstir. Someone must go and get help from there.’ 
     ‘I will go,’ offered Marcus. 
     ‘You are too young, Marcus, I cannot risk it.’ 
     ‘But, Princess. I know all the short-cuts and can persuade father better than anyone can. I will ride through the night and reach the bridge by daybreak.’ 
     ‘Marcus, if anything happened to you...’ 
     ‘With respect, Princess. I have to go. I shall never be able to lift up my head again after what happened on the boat.’ 
     Ædra thought for a moment. The boy was right. There was no-one better equipped than he was to reach his father at Novacæstir. However... 
     ‘Please,’ he begged. 
     Ædra nodded. ‘Take one of the best horses, leave imediately while Urien is still in the hills.’ 
     Marcus smiled his thanks and rushed off to find a suitable mount. 
     ‘If I might suggest...’ started Ida. 
     ‘Yes, Ida.’ 
     ‘Help might also be available from Odin’s Burgh.’ 
     ‘Surely that is too far,’ said Ædred. 
     ‘Not with a good rider. It would need to be a very good rider because of the hills and cliffs, but with the right person, it might be possible.’ 
     No-one saw the small shadow slip away from the fireglow and head for the stables. No-one heard the door open and the mount being led outside. It was not until the figure galloped through the gateway onto the Belfordd road that anyone knew what was happening. 
     ‘Who was that?’ asked Bebba, staring into the near darkness as the rider disappeared westwards. Ædra peered frantically around herself. ‘Oh, no.’ 
     ‘What is it?’ asked her brother. 
     ‘It is Melane, she has gone.’ 
     ‘The rider...?’ 
     ‘I’m afraid so. Melane has ridden for help from the Gododdini.’
     ‘But how? She is not fit for such a journey. Her arm, her ribs.’ 
     ‘She must be in terrible agony, the poor girl. Why did she do it?’ 
     ‘For you, Ædra,’ said Ida. ‘Why else?’ 
     ‘We must find a way to give the reinforcements time to get here,’ said Ædra. 
     ‘What did you have in mind?’ asked her brother. 
     ‘Ida, you must stay in the fort and guard it at all costs. Theodoric, I need you to gather any men you can find from the local villages and defend the haven and Lindis’ Farun.’ 
     ‘Very well, Princess,’ he said, bowing. ‘With your permission, I will leave at once.’ 
     Ædra nodded. 
     ‘Why do I get the feeling that you are up to something?’ asked Ædred as Theodoric rode away towards the sunset. 
     She grinned. ‘Now why would you think that?’ 
     ‘Let’s just say that I now you of old.’ 
     ‘So you do,’ she said and left in search of Lindis.

     It was still dark as Lindis led the small group through the forest and onto the top of the moor. The moon rose a little later and they picked their way across Lyham Moor and down into the Till Valley. It was very peaceful as their horses stepped through the shallow river and then wound their way downstream until they reached the Devil’s Causeway. 
     Ædra shivered as she looked up at the stark hills that surrounded her. Lindis had assured her that the name was meaningless, that the circles and crags which topped all the hills had been for effect only, but she still felt uneasy. No wonder the Romans had been half scared to death. She knew exactly how they felt as bats flew around them and light clouds drifted across the face of the moon, causing great shadows on the hillside. 
     Dawn broke as they reached the bottom of the valley where the Till met Harthope Burn. 
     ‘This is where they will camp tonight,’ assured Lindis. 
     ‘How can you be so sure?’ 
     ‘Because the journey across the Cheviot is a hard and strenuous one and they will not risk being too close to the Causeway at night.’ 
     ‘I thought you told me that all that Devil stuff was superstitious nonsense,’ said Ædra cheekily. 
     ‘So it is. But they managed to convince themselves as well as the Romans in the end.’ 
     ‘You mean that they came to be frightened by their own confidence trick?’ 
     ‘Funny as it may seem, yes. No self-respecting Cymbric Celt would be found dead on these moors at night.’ 
     Ædra shivered again. ‘I think that, for once, I sympathise with them.’ 
     ‘They will come down that valley,’ Lindis pointed as sunlight touched the tip of the Cheviot. ‘The valley is dry except in the rainy season and is the easiest way down off the moor. They will have to camp in the valley for water. I expect that they will want to surprise us with an attack about midday tomorrow.’ 
     ‘If they get that far,’ observed Æred. 
     ‘Oh, they will, my brother,’ said Ædra. ‘They have come too far to be easily discouraged. 
     ‘I suppose the best we can do is to slow them down a little to give the reinforcements time to get here. If we can just bottle them up for one day, we might just win the battle.’ 
     ‘Don’t bank on reinforcements, brother dear. Marcus has over a hundred miles to ride, with detours necessary for valleys and there are plenty of them between here and the Tyn. He will make it, of course, his determination alone will get him there, but it will be too late to help us by the time that the army is roused, assembled and marched another day’s journey north.’ 
     ‘But Melane?’ 
     ‘I fear that we have seen the last of poor Melane. In her physical condition, I will doubt if she has been able to ride more than a score of miles. Even that far will have been a miracle for her. No, we must fight them with what we have.’ 
     ‘I still don’t understand how,’ said the King. 
     ‘Don’t worry,’ she replied with a smile. ‘You will.’


     The sun was warm on their backs as they worked along the ridge line, gathering scrub and constructing makeshift arrows from the branches of trees on the lower slopes of Weetwood Moor. Jules and Pierre, stripped to the waist, hacked at trees in preparation as Ædred and Lindis levered large rocks into precarious positions along the ridge line. By midday, they could accomplish little more and sat down to wait for the enemy. 
     Insects buzzed around them as they lay on the heather-covered hillside in the warm sunshine. There was virtually no breeze at all and the birds darted from tree to tree and small animals scurried through the heather and scrub. No-one would believe that a battle was about to be fought. 
     ‘Are you sure they will come this way?’ 
     ‘They have to,’ replied Lindis. ‘An invading army in the mountains will always keep to the high ground where possible rather than risk being trapped in one of the valleys, the Romans found that out. Once on the Cheviot, they will keep high as long as they can and that is why they will descend by the burn. If it was winter time, it would be different, of course. Then they would be forced to keep to the low ground but, at this time of year, they will keep a claim of the high ground.’ 
     ‘Then why are we here, in this particular spot?’ asked Jules. ‘Surely they could miss the Till valley out altogether and follow that ridge.’ He pointed. 
     ‘That is where you do not understand the psychology of the Celts, Jules. No matter how quickly they can move today, they cannot get to this end of the Cheviot before late afternoon. If they continued on along the ridge, they would have to cross the Devil’s Causeway at night. They will not do that.’ 
     ‘So what will they do?’ 
     ‘They will be forced to call an early halt and spend the night here, where there is grass for the horses and water for the men. It will be the only spot on their route where we can be above them.’ 
     ‘Then we have to make the most of what we have.’ 
     They sat in silence for a while, staring at the distant mountains, almost daring the enemy to appear. 
     ‘You’re very quiet,’ said Ædred to his sister as she lay on her back, soaking up the sun, her skirts rolled up and arms outstretched. 
     ‘I’m thinking,’ she said. 
     ‘What about?’ 
     ‘About the last time we did what we are about to do tonight.’ 
     ‘On Astune Nab?’ 
     ‘Yes. We won that time, didn’t we?’ 
     ‘We did. But that was against two hundred pirates. This is just a bit different. Urien has quite a large army and is very determined.’ 
     ‘Don’t worry. We will win, I feel it in my bones.’ 
     ‘And very lovely bones,’ said Pierre with a sigh, unable to drag his eyes from her long legs. 
     Ædra giggled and opened one eye, shielding it from the sun. ‘Behave yourself, nephew. I’ll have you know that I’m a happily married woman.’ 
     ‘Just making an observation,’ he shrugged, forcing his eyes away. He stared at the hillside. ‘They are coming.’ 
     Ædra sat up and followed his gaze. Sun glinted off shields and armour as the first of the troops began the long descent into the valley. Pierre began to collect his things together. 
     ‘Don’t rush,’ said Lindis. ‘It will take an hour or more before they reach the valley bottom. When they get to that bend near those trees, we will know if we have gauged it right. It they cross the river there, we will have been wrong and they will continue on into the night. However, if they follow the other side of the river into the valley, they will camp with the water between themselves and Ida’s fort, in case of attack during the night.’ 
     ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ observed Ædred. 
     ‘When I was young, I used to write documented histories of all the battles that have taken place on and around the Cheviot. I used to find it fascinating but never dreamed that I would ever use the information to save lives.’ 
     ‘Perhaps I should just go down and give myself up,’ observed Ædra, sitting with her knees drawn up under her chin watching the continuous glint of sun on steel just those few miles away. ‘It would make it so much easier for everyone else.’ 
     ‘You cannot do that,’ exclaimed Jules, ‘Not after all that has happened.’ 
     ‘It is only me that he is after. If he had me, he would go away and there would be no need for a battle at all.’ 
     ‘You are not going, Ædra, and that is final,’ declared her brother. ‘You have no idea what they might do to you.’ 
     ‘I do,’ said Lindis. ‘I compiled the account of the battle of Leven Forest when Urien invaded Caledonia and captured Princess Olgan.’ 
     ‘Wasn’t she Bonn’s sister?’ 
     ‘Yes, she was. Borin was but a boy at the time and Toreal no more than three or four. Their father had been killed at larum, as you know, and Olgan at the tender age of fourteen was left the kingdom. Urien attacked when they were at their weakest and young Olgan was taken prisoner.’ 
     ‘Did Urien kill her?’ asked idra. 
     ‘Not exactly. He...he stripped her and made her go through the camp, naked, in front of all the soldiers. Then...’ 
     ‘Go on,’ prompted Ædra, dreading what was coming next. 
     ‘They raped her.’ 
     ‘They?’ 
     ‘All the common soldiers.’ 
     ‘All of them? Hundreds of them?’ 
     He nodded. ‘No-one knew exactly when she died or who it was that actually killed her. Urien had her staked out in the centre of the camp and insisted that every single soldier in the army use her whether she was dead or alive. Any that refused were whipped instead.’ 
     ‘How disgusting,’ said Ædred. ‘To get their pleasure in such terrible way.’ 
     ‘You don’t understand the mentality of your average Celt, do you?’ said Lindis quietly. ‘You do not get the point at all.’ 
     ‘What is the point, Lindis?’ asked Ædra kindly. 
     ‘Sex had nothing at all to do with it. The whole point of the exercise was to publicly humiliate her and her family. She was very strong and rumour has it that she did not struggle or scream and that over a hundred men took her before she died.’ 
     ‘Poor girl,’ said Ædra sadly. 
     ‘She bled to death,’ added Lindis. ‘Ruptured inside somewhere, I expect. They had cast lost as to who would be the first to compel her to scream but in that, they all failed. Urien and his chieftains did not touch her, of course, just the common soldiers and, worst of all, the barbarian mercenaries who did not know the meaning of the word “kindness”. Urien didn’t even have the decency to have her buried but left her, as she had died, so that the local people could see what they had done to her. It was an exercise in total public humiliation.’ 
     ‘That could be you, Ædra,’ observed Jules. ‘You must return to the fort before dark so that you will be safe for a while, at least.’ 
     ‘I am safe,’ she said with a smile. ‘I have four brave men to protect me. Why should I be worried?’ 
     ‘Because, little sister, the Bishop of Rome will have paid Urien to do far worse, if that is possible, than they did with Princess Olgan. He will want to ensure that as many people am possible witness the act and get to know of what he has done.’ 
     ‘Of course,’ exclaimed Ædra, suddenly erect. 
     ‘Of course, what?’ 
     ‘Now I understand the whole point of what is happening.’ 
     ‘Explain to us lesser mortals who are still confused.’ 
     ‘Cheeky,’ she said and then explained. ‘Do you remember what Polimus said about an agreement between Urien and the Pope?’ 
     ‘He said that they were unlikely bedpartners, if I remember him correctly.’ 
     ‘Yes, and he was right. Tell me, Lindis, do you think the Church will have become aware of what Urien did that day?’ 
     ‘Almost certainly, it was made as public as possible to increase the national shame of the Caledonians.’ 
     ‘And what do you think will be the reaction of Yorwick, Camelot and Westseax if the same thing were to happen to me?’ 
     ‘National outrage, of course. The lords and kings will be appalled.’ 
     ‘Will they take action, do you think?’ 
     ‘It is possible. It will be a little late by then but the feeling will certainly be high.’ 
     ‘Exactly, and that is when the Church will step in. Few in the nation fully appreciate the difference between what the Church teaches and what I have tried to do. I have not gone out of my way to condemn the Church openly, except in private conversations with yourselves and the like.’ 
     ‘What are you getting at, Ædra?’ 
     ‘The Bishop of Rome intends to double-cross Urien. He expects to be able to cash-in on the public outrage and establish his Church on the wave of bad feeling that will result. The nation will be so appalled that it will accept any form of Christianity without a second thought, especially if the Church promises to bring economic prosperity at the same time.’ 
     ‘I begin to see the point,’ said Ædred. ‘If this is true, many will fall for it, I’m sure.’ 
     ‘And you?’ asked Jules. 
     ‘Princess Ædra of Camelot, Queen of Britannia, will have been just a mere pawn in the intrigue. That’s why we must warn Urien.’ 
     ‘What?’ the others all said together. 
     ‘You cannot be serious,’ said Ædred. 
     ‘Perfectly serious. If he knows that he is about to be tricked and is simply being used by the Bishop of Rome, he will have no reason to attack. On the contrary, he may even feel antagonism against the Church, instead of me.’ 
     ‘Don’t bank on that,’ said Lindis. ‘Urien may still attack just for the devil of it, and then where will you be?’ 
     ‘And the Church will still have gained what it wanted,’ added Jules. ‘We cannot let you do it.’ 
     ‘Let me go,’ said Lindis. 
     ‘You? Why you?’ 
     ‘He has no reason at all to kill me, I am no threat to him. I can inform him of the true situation and he may go away.’ 
     ‘He may not,’ said Ædred quietly. ‘He may kill you out of hand if he is as bad as you have told us.’ 
     ‘I am prepared to take that chance to save the Princess and the people of Northumbria. What is one life when so much is at stake?’ 
     ‘You are a brave man, Lindis,’ said Ædra. ‘I can see the logic in what you say but feel loath to let you go. It should be me.’ 
     ‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘Give me a time limit. If I am not back by moonrise, go ahead with the original plan.’ He looked from one face to another, eager to do what he could. The others just looked uneasy about what was almost certainly to be a futile attempt to halt the invading army. ‘I will make it quite clear what is at stake and all that we have discussed. I will also threaten vengeance from God if he refuses and, if I do not succeed, it will, at least, seem like an omen to him.’ 
     Ædra stood up and put her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘Go in peace, Lindis. And may God be with you.’ 
     ‘Wait until dark,’ suggested Jules. ‘If I know anything about an army before a battle, they will be on edge and jittery already. A visitor bringing bad tidings at night during such a time could be disastrous for their morale.’ 
     ‘Let’s hope so, Jules,’ said the King.


     They spent the rest of the day watching the troops descend the burn towards the valley. The sun glinted off their shields and it looked as if the whole cleft was on fire as they formed a long line that, at one time, stretched from the top of the burn right into the valley below. 
     ‘There certainly are a lot of them,’ said Pierre. 
     ‘Several thousand, at least,’ estimated Ædred. ‘Quite spectacular, in a way.’ 
     ‘Will they rest in the valley overnight?’ 
     ‘We will know in just a moment,’ said Lindis. ‘The leaders have just reached the ford at Haugh Head.’ 
     They watched carefully as the troops mustered at the water’s edge as if uncertain, many of them looking up at the hills that concealed Ædra and her small group. 
     Tension was high as the watchers stared down, eager for any sign as to what the enemy would do. It was not possible to determine individuals at that distance, the reflection of sun on polished metal still being the main indication as to where they were but, eventually, it became obvious that they were going to spend the night in the valley. The sun was already low behind the Cheviot and the sky was beginning to turn the kind of red that shepherds rejoiced over. 
     ‘Right,’ maid Ædra, standing. ‘Let’s get ready.’ 
     With an obviously relaxed spirit, they set about the final preparations in their attempt to delay the huge army below them.


     Insects chirped in the early spring air as Lindis descended from Weetwood Hill and into the Till Valley. Following the river downstream between several small hillocks, he eventually arrived at the confluence of the rivers. The area to his right, downstream, was marshy and reflected the last glimer of light from the dying sun. Behind and above him, the cliffs that rose up from the valley floor seemed ominous and forbidding as they must have seemed to the Romans four centuries ago. 
     Very little light was seen in the camp, Urien obviously unwilling to advertise the position of his camp whilst in the lower valley. Not that they were vulnerable. The camp was surrounded on three sides by rivers and marshes. The fourth, south side was the way that they had come, therefore unlikely to be a source of real danger. 
     Lindis paused at the water’s edge, looking for somewhere to cross. The river was not deep, it had not rained on the Cheviot for several days. 
     Peering ahead into the unknown, gauging the best spot for him to wade to what was almost certain death, he stepped into the cool water. 

- Metcaud -

     Urien of Rheged looked up as the fair-haired man was thrust into his tent by camp guards who had dragged him from the river. Water dribbled from his legs as he stood, the great Cymbric chieftain watching him closely. 
     ‘And who might you be?’ he asked eventually. 
     ‘I am Lindis of Metcaud. I bring a message from Princess Ædra of Camelot.’ 
     One eyebrow in Urien’s battle-scarred face lifted slightly and one side of his mouth dropped in a slight leer. 
     ‘So,’ he said. ‘She has sent you to plead for her life, ham she?’ 
     ‘On the contrary. She sent me to warn you.’ 
     His face went dark. ‘Warn me? She has the impertinence to sent an unarmed man to warn me. Who the devil does she think she is?’ 
     Lindis waited until he had finished shouting then replied quietly. ‘The Princess knows of your alliance with the Bishop of Rome and believes that you are being deceived. The Church intends to double-cross you.’ 
     Lindis was prepared for a blow, an angry retort, even death. Instead, Urien laughed aloud. It was not a pleasant sound. ‘Don’t you think that I know that already?’ 
     He shook his head as he walked round Lindis and the two guards that held him firmly by the arms. ‘Your precious princess doesn’t surely believe that I swallowed all that cock-and-bull story the Bishop fed me about his concern for the future prosperity of Britannia, does she? The Church has only ever been interested in one thing.’ He put his face close to that of the man of God. ‘Power!’ 
     Lindis stood silent. So Urien already knew. Then why was he here? 
     ‘I’m only here for one thing,’ he sneered, his foul breath making Lindis wince. Urien smiled. ‘Gold.’ 
     ‘Gold?’ 
     ‘Yes, my friend, Gold. The Bishop is paying me well for what I am doing and, believe me, I plan to go through with it. What do I care if the Bishop feigns righteous indignation afterwards? Why should I worry if his Church gets established in Britannia because of what I have done? I shall not be a part of it.’ 
     ‘Then I hope, for your sake, that you have got your payment of gold in advance.’ 
     For a moment, he wondered if he had gone too far as the Cymbric War Lord glared at him from inches away. 
     ‘I have got half,’ he said. ‘Which is half more than I had a month ago. If the Bishop refuses to pay the other half, I will simply keep raiding any churches he establishes because of me, until I have been paid what I feel is a fair price for my labours.’ 
     ‘Then you still intend to attack Din Guayrdi?’ 
     ‘Of course. By this time tomorrow, the fort will be mine, the Northumbrians will be dead and your lovely queen will be screaming her last hours away in the middle of my camp.’ 
     ‘I don’t think so,’ said Lindis. This time, Urien did not laugh but lashed out at the defenceless prisoner with all him strength. Lindis’ head snapped back and he felt his own blood trickling from his mouth. 
     ‘How many men do you have at this fort?’ Urien roared. 
     ‘A few hundred,’ muttered Lindis, obeying Ædra’s very precise instructions to hide nothing, to tell the complete truth at all times. 
     ‘And where is this Princess?’ 
     Lindis hesitated. Ædra had insisted that he hold nothing back. ‘On that hill, overlooking your camp.’ 
     Urien’s eyes instinctively flicked upwards and, gazing out of the open tent flap, he stared up at the dark cliff which seemed to tower above his camp. Lindis was pleased to see fear in some of the eyes as he looked around the dozen or so men in the tent, lit only by a small oil lamp. ‘With her army?’ 
     Lindis would loved to have said “There are thousands of troops ready to burst into your camp at any moment.” Instead, he told the truth, as instructed. 
     ‘Three?’ shouted Urien. ‘Your princess has three men with her?’ 
     The relief in the tent was clearly discernible as Lindis nodded. 
     ‘And what does she hope to accomplish with three men, eh?’ 
     ‘Princess Ædra intends to use her powers to bring death to your camp.’ 
     ‘Powers? Death?’ 
     It was Lindis’ turn to smile. ‘You have not heard of the mighty powers of Princess Ædra of Camelot, daughter of King Arthur?’ 
     ‘I heard of some superstitious nonsense about her healing people.’ 
     ‘It is true that Princess Ædra can accomplish much good in the name of God. However, she is also able to bring earthquakes and fire from heaven upon those who defy God by attacking her.’ 
     No-one laughed. 
     ‘I don’t believe you,’ Urien simply said eventually. 
     ‘Then believe me at moonrise, my Lord. If I am not back with her by then, she will destroy your camp with power from heaven.’ 
     Urien turned to an old man close behind him. ‘When does the moon rise, priest?’ 
     The druid shuffled to the tent opening and stared to the south-east. ‘In about half an hour.’ 
     Urien turned to the guards. ‘Take this man outside and stake him out. If any of you are still alive at one minute after moonrise, cut him up into very small pieces as slowly and painfully as possible. Make sure that this Princess hears his cries of agony.’

     Aedred was impatient. ‘Can we not attack now?’ 
     ‘No, we promised until moonrise,’ said his sister. She turned to Jules. ‘Is everything ready?’ 
     ‘All was ready many hours ago, Ædra. We await only your word.’ 
     The Princess looked up into the starry sky which twinkled against a black backdrop which seemed to go on forever. Her eyes shifted nervously to the South-east, to where the moon would rise. She knew how her brother felt, she was getting jittery herself. It was all this waiting. 
     The camp below them was almost black and she tried to remember the exact layout of the tents and where, precisely, she had seen the largest tent pitched. A faint glow heralded the rise of the moon and she stood up. 
     ‘Give them a few minutes. I want to be sure they can see it, too.’ 
     Ædra paced as Jules and Pierre watched her carefully in the poor light, Ædred simply staring at the moon like a forlorn wolf. 
     The silence was broken by a single, drawn-out scream. 
     ‘Now!’ she whispered, dread in her heart.


     Urien smiled. The moon had risen and they were still alive. The guard watched him. Urien took one last look at the prostrate Lindis and nodded before returning inside his tent. 
     The sword fell and a great pain shot up Lindis’ left arm         as the blade severed his little finger. Instinctively, he let out a cry that would carry across the valley. A cry that, hopefully, would produce a response. 
     He was not disappointed. Within half a minute, the ground began to shake and a great glow lit up the western sky. Men scurried around the camp in frantic haste, bumping into each other in the darkness. Suddenly, fire began to fall out of the sky and onto the tents, some of which burst into flames. Panic broke out among the Britons. 
     ‘Stop,’ shouted Urien, pulling a burning arrow from his tent cloth. ‘It is a trick.’ 
     Unfortunately for him, most did not hear him in their haste to avoid the death that fell upon them from the Devil’s Causeway. 
     The fire did not just arrive in arrow-sized quantities. The bales of dry grass and heather that were being torched and then catapulted from bent-over young trees began to fall upon them and men scattered in all directions as tents began to blaze all over the small plain between the rivers. 
     ‘What are we going to do?’ shouted Morcant. 
     ‘Stop these cowards from panicking. Can’t they see that it’s just a trick. They are showering us with arrows and fire bales. If we work together, we can put them out before the fires get established.’ 
     ‘It’s too late, the men are petrified by this superstitious tale about the Devil’s Causeway.’ 
     ‘Urien,’ called Chieftain Rhydderch, running towards him through the smoke. ‘The river!’ 
     Urien groaned. What now? ‘Tell me.’ 
     ‘They’ve dammed it with rocks from the cliff and it is rising fast.’ 
     For the first time, Urien began to realise what he was up against and that this slip of a girl had judged the psychology of the troops accurately and had achieved her desired result. Total panic was in the camp. If her army attacked now, they might even win with smaller numbers. However, the ambassador that she had sent had assured him that there were just the four of them on the hillside. 
     He turned and looked at Lindis as the waters began to rise, flooding the camp and ruining precious food stocks and stores. 
     Rhydderch pointed. ‘What are we going to do with him?’ 
     Urien considered for a moment. ‘Free him.’ 
     ‘Set him free?’ said the astounded chieftain. 
     ‘Yes.’ Urien shrugged. ‘He can tell us no more than he has already.’ 
     Rhydderch hesitated for just a moment and then cut the bonds tying Lindis to the ground as the waters slowly advanced across the camp clearing. 
     Lindis stood and then set out southwards towards higher ground. No-one appeared to see him go or be interested in his departure. However, Urien was watching carefully out of the corner of his eye. 
     ‘Gaullauc.’ He called over his chief scout. ‘Take a couple of men and follow him. See where he lead us. I want to know exactly where his Princess is tonight so that we can strike at dawn.’ 
     The young man nodded and turned to go. 
     ‘One more thing. Don’t let him see you.’ 
     ‘You know me,’ smiled the scout. ‘As quiet as a mouse and as deadly as a viper.’ 
     ‘Do nothing,’ ordered Urien. ‘Just locate her and send back one of the men to tell us where to come. I’m going to slowly roast that girl alive if it’s the last thing I do.’


     Aedred looked down with satisfaction on the havoc they had created as the two archers fired their last arrows into the melée. 
     ‘Well, we did it,’ he said to his sister who stood, madly looking down on the camp. 
     ‘Yes, we did. Poor Lindis.’ 
     ‘He was a brave man, Ædra,’ said Jules as he approached the twins. 
     ‘And he did volunteer,’ added Pierre. 
     ‘I shall pray for him,’ said the Princess. 
     ‘I think,’ said the King ‘that we should go back to the fort am soon as possible. Ida will want to know what has happened.’ 
     ‘No,’ said Ædra. ‘Jules and Pierre must go to the fort. You and I will go to Metcaud.’ 
     ‘Why Metcaud?’ 
     ‘To confuse them, my brother. They will think that I have gone to the fort and will besiege it whilst all the time, we shall be hiding out on Metcaud. There just may be something we can do from there.’ 
     ‘Like what?’ 
     ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ll think of something.’


     Lindis was not stupid. He knew that there had to be a reason for the fact that Urien had let him go free. He crossed the river at Haugh Head to avoid the floodwaters which had already built up for some distance, and started to climb onto Fowberry Moor. Hesitating about a quarter of a mile up the craggy slope, he waited and listened. His left hand throbbed with pain following his exertion which had started his finger bleeding again. 
     There was a slight splash below him. He was right. Urien had sent someone to follow him straight to Ædra. He smiled to himself. He knew these hills like the back of his hand and would lead them a merry dance. They would pay for the finger they had taken. 
     The moon was full and high as Lindis reached the standing stone above Lill Burn. It cast a long shadow that night, a shadow which almost reached the hard track that was the Devil’s Causeway. Not far away, a wolf howled and Lindis almost laughed to himself at the thought of how his followers would now be feeling. After an hour of this, they would be walking jellies. 
     The Causeway was straight, as were all the roads the Romans had built. As if by an omen, the moon seemed to stand still, right over the track though the forest to the south. The wolf howled again. Walking slowly so that they could follow him easily, he made his way northwards along the Roman Road, the Till Valley falling gradually away to his right. 
     After about three miles, he descended the valley and waded through the cool water and started to climb Chimney Hill. The bleak moor was littered with dozens of stone circles and Cup-and-Ring marked rocks first sent to frighten away the Roman road builders. 
     Deliberately, and unnecessarily, passing between as many uncanny-looking features as he could, he trekked his way, happy to be getting his own back on his terrified followers. When the wolf howled once more, he almost burst out laughing. 
     Eventually, he became tired and decided it was time to lead them somewhere more positive before they suspected what he was up to. With the moon on his right, he strode North-Eastwards until he reached the edge of Raven’s Crag and could see the coast laid out before him like a map. Lights were burning at Bebba’s Burgh and the moonlight reflected off Budle Bay and Fenham Flatts. He then decided how many of Urien’s army were going to die the next day.


     Aedra and Ædred walked, hand-in-hand, towards the end of the long sand bar. This was the only safe way for them to approach the island. Lindis had warned them of quickmands further round and neither of them knew how to locate them, especially in the dark. Besides, the moon was up and, while it was, the tide would be in. 
     ‘We must swim for it, brother dear,’ she offered. ‘The estuary will be quiet while the tide is on the turn.’ 
     ‘How far is it?’ 
     ‘About half a mile in all, if I remember it correctly, with a resting place half-way across. The first part will be easy but the last part more difficult. Are you game?’ 
     ‘If you are, I am.’ 
     ‘Let’s go then. Lindis’ Farun, here we come.’ 
     She dived into the water.


     Lindis sat down to wait. A dry crossing to the island was impossible while the moon was up and the tide in but he had plenty of time. When the men saw where he was headed, someone would have to walk back to Urien’s camp the way they had come and he laughed at the thought of one of them alone, after moon-set, on that eerie moor. He started down to the beach before the moon actually went down and made his way along the edge of the sands towards the narrow, almost-indiscernible causeway across the quicksands to Metcaud.


     The lonely knight stood beside his horse looking down on the fires in Urien’s camp. He did not understand what this was all about. Merlin had talked of danger but not of an invading army the likes of this. 
     A noise behind him made him turn, Excalibur in hand, but he needn’t have worried. The terrified man that ran past him in the pitch darkness, now that the moon had almost set, was not noticing anything but where he was headed in his frantic haste to get down off that bleak moor. Holding up Excalibur, it showed him the direction of the Brood. He smiled. Soon, he thought, very soon.


     Dawn broke to the sound of waves breaking on the Broad Stones to the east of the island. Ædra sat up and looked around her. Her brother lay, still asleep, on the damp sand as the seabirds circled overhead, eagerly seeking sustenance for the day. 
     There were few buildings on the Metcaud that were habitable and, somewhere close, Lindis had lived in one of them. Standing and climbing to the top of the dunes, she looked around the island as the wind blew through her hair and clutched at her thin dress, moulding it tightly to her slim form. 
     Smoke issued from the chimneys of the only two buildings that looked serviceable—stone built dwellings with wood and straw roofs, huddled beside the harbour amid a collection of ruined fishermen’s houses. She turned at the sound behind her and smiled at her brother. 
     ‘Good Morning,’ she greeted pleasantly. ‘Welcome to Lindis’ Farun.’ 
     ‘Not any more,’ reminded her brother with sadness. ‘I expect we shall just find Theodoric and whatever peasants he was able to warn.’ 
     Ædra held out her hand to him. ‘Let’s go and find out, shall we?’


     They found Theoderic straight away, along with about six villagers who had sought refuge on Metcaud. They also found the last person they ever expected to see again. 
     ‘Lindis,’ exclaimed Ædra, running to him. ‘Lindis, you’re alive.’ 
     He didn’t answer but just stood, open-mouthed, staring at them as if he had seen a ghost. 
     ‘Aren’t you glad to see us?’ Ædra asked, puzzled at his lack of hospitality. 
     ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he finally whispered. ‘You can’t be here.’ 
     ‘But I am, friend Lindis, and very glad to see you alive. What happened?’ 
     ‘They...they let me go,’ he said in a moron-like voice. ‘You mustn’t be here, not now.’ 
     ‘Whyever not? We came here because Urien will attack the fort.’ 
     ‘No, he won’t,’ Lindis murmured. He sat down and Ædra saw his bandaged hand for the first time. 
     ‘Did they hurt you?’ she said, kneeling at his feet, cradling his hand gently in hers. 
     ‘It is nothing to what they might have done,’ he said quietly. ‘They let me go so that they could follow me. I’m sorry.’ 
     ‘Sorry, why?’ 
     ‘Because...because I deliberately led them away from the fort where I thought you would be safely hidden.’ 
     ‘Where did you lead them to?’ 
     Lindis looked down at Ædra’s face. ‘Here.’ 
     No-one spoke for quite some time as the small group realised the significance of what had happened. 
     Ædra laughed. Everyone else stared at her and she put her fingers to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve just seen the funny side of it all. We’ve all tried to be so clever and dropped ourselves right in it. Urien will be here soon with an army of thousands and there are just the ten of us here to defend the island. I think it’s hilarious.’ 
     ‘What are we going to do?’ asked Theodoric. 
     ‘You are going to take your group of villagers and my friend, Lindis, and sail that little boat moored out there, to the fort before Urien gets here.’ 
     ‘I will not leave you,’ said Theodoric. 
     ‘Nor I,’ agreed Lindis. 
     ‘We get too seasick to go gallivanting around in boats,’ added the tow-haired dairy farmer. ‘If we are to die, we would rather die with you.’ 
     ‘I have no intention of dying, my friends,’ affirmed Ædra, ‘Not now nor for many years yet. I mean to give Chieftain Urien a run for his money.’ 
     ‘How?’ asked Theodoric. 
     ‘Lindis,’ said Ædra. ‘You know this island well, don’t you?’ 
     The man nodded. 
     ’Then you must take me around it today and show me everything. I think that we will find a way whereby just this few of us can run rings around Urien. Are you game?’


     Urien did not come that day, nor the next. It was on the third morning that they awoke to find the army camped on the far shore, besieging the island. However, the tide was in full flood and they were safe for a few hours. Eventually, as midday approached, the sea level fell and the mud of the Flatts gurgled and slurped as the water receded. 
     As the mud dried off, soldiers began to collect at the water’s edge, each keen to be the first to strike a blow, every man determined to win the thousand krone Urien had offered to the first man to catch and rape the young princess. 
     ‘This is where the game starts,’ observed the young princess in question, sitting on the hillock overlooking the haven. 
     ‘Game?’ asked her brother. 
     ‘Yes, the children used to play it at Camelot when I was small. They called it “hit and run”.’ 
     She deliberately stood up so that the enemy could see her from across the Flatts. A great cheer arose as men plunged into the water, splashing, thigh-deep, in a frantic effort to gain their holy prize. Hundreds of them swarmed through the water, swords and shields held above their heads. Ædra did not move but stood and watched them. As the first one reached an area called The Swad, he disappeared. One moment he was there the next, he was gone. 
     The wave of men slowed a little then another vanished with a plop, grabbed by the hungry, sucking quicksand that drew them down. The front row halted but were pushed forward by the ones behind and a great panic started as several tried to turn back but were caught by the clutching, sticky slime that would not let them go. 
     Men screamed but the tide continued, the ones behind unable to observe the plight of the forerunners and hundreds died in that first minute without an arrow being loosed. 
     Over the next few hours, other excursions were made with the loss of many lives, none of the men able to discern the safe track across the marshy area. If it had not been for the fort guarding the sand bar, they might have tried swimming the sound but Ida’s army would have prevented such an advance. 
     Some of Urien’s troops had encircled the fort as a precaution but did not waste time and effort launching a full scale attack when their quarry was in full sight of them all, just a matter of a mile away. 
     Realising the futility of invading the almost uninhabited island, Urien sat down to wait. He had cut off the only escape, so there was no need to lose more lives trying to get his army across the Flatts. Some did try. One group even succeeded in making it to the island and searched around for hours without finding anyone among the dunes and rocks of Metcaud. 
     Lindis certainly knew the island well and the small unit had rings run round them all day. It was when they tried to return to the mainland at sunset that they found themselves cut-off by the advancing tide. Theodoric and his farmers attacked that night and Urien was back to square one again. 
     On the fourth day, it all went wrong for the invading chieftain. Not only were they short on supplies but now, they were under attack. Out of nowhere, reinforcements had arrived and it was almost an anti-climax for Ædra to watch as Polimus and Ida caught Urien’s army in a pincer movement and forced them onto the Flatts. 
     In desperation, some of them made it to the island, Urien among them. Weak with exhaustion, he lay on the sandbank that led to the Snook and watched as the last remnants of his army were either killed or driven off by the well-disciplined troops from NovacÆstir. Black with anger, he stood up and faced the dozen or so men who had survived along with him. 
     ‘Get me that girl,’ he instructed. ‘I don’t care how you do it but find her and then bring her to me, unharmed. I want to take her in my own bare hands and tear her apart, piece by bloody piece.’ 

- A Time for Pain -

     The rider trotted silently down to the water’s edge. The tide was in full flood and he saw many bodies floating in the advancing waters of the Haven. The victorious army was on the shore, staring out across the water as the sun began to set behind them, long shadows reaching out across the Flatts which were gradually being covered with the incoming tide. 
     ‘Where is the Brood?’ he asked of one soldier, looting the dead enemy for weaponry. 
     ‘The Brood?’ queried the man. 
     ‘King Arthur’s Brood. The Twins.’ 
     The man pointed. ‘On Metcaud.’ 
     The knight smiled his thanks. 
     ‘You cannot get there,’ warned the soldier. ‘The quicksands will get you as they did the others who tried to cross without knowing the safe track.’ 
     The knight pulled out his sword and held it outstretched and he followed its direction. The man just stood and stared in disbelief as the horse and rider slowly but safely waded out across the Swad

     Aedra did not hear them approach. One moment, she was standing by the fire, watching small bread loaves rising in the grate, the next moment she was caught in a vice-like grip and her brother lay, unconscious, at her feet. 
     Theodoric and the others had already been overpowered, never expecting any of the group that had plunged into the water to have survived the virtually impassable quicksands. Held firmly by the arms, Ædra was forced to watch as, one at a time, the local men were all brutally beheaded and their bodies thrown out into the night. Only Lindis escaped, untraceable on his home ground. 
     The silence in the cottage was broken only by the crackling of the fire and the laughing of the men. She was confused. They were making no attempt to rape her or abuse her in any way. Had Lindis been wrong about what Urien had intended? She soon found out. 
     ‘So,’ said the voice from the doorway. ‘We meet at last. It is a shame we cannot wait for your brother to regain consciousness to watch what is about to happen to you.’ He turned to his men. ‘Strip her!’ 
     ‘Are you going to rape me, Urien of Rheged?’ she asked matter-of-factly as her dress was torn from her back. 
     ‘What? And take the risk that you might enjoy it? No, my dear Princess, I have other plans for you. I estimate that we have about four or five hours before your friends can attempt to cross to the island to try to rescue you. I intend to use that time well.’ 
     ‘What are you going to do?’ 
     ‘I am going to die, of course. I know that. However, my last few hours are going to be the happiest moments of my life.’ 
     ‘H...how?’ she dared ask. 
     ‘Because, dear Ædra, once upon a time, I vowed to make someone scream for mercy and I failed. This time, I intend to be more successful.’ He turned to his men. ‘Tie her across the table.’
     Ædra struggled but without success. Had her brother been conscious, her power would have saved them both but, alone, she was unable to prevent them doing whatever they wanted to her and, this time, there was no-one to save her. 
     The men knew their job and, within a few minutes, she was tied, spread-eagle, to the four corners of the large wooden table with Urien leering down at her. Slowly he drew his heavy sword and laid it across her undefended belly. Despite her previous bravery, Ædra’s heart was in her mouth as she imagined herself being gradually chopped in two. 
     He smiled. ‘Too quick, my dear. Too quick by far and not nearly painful enough.’ 
     He thrust the sword into the blazing fire. For the first time, Ædra began to realise just how sadistic that this evil man could be and now knew what Urien had meant when he had assured her plenty of pain and screaming. 
     The blade glowed red-hot as he pulled it from the fire, holding it at arm’s length because of the heat. Sadistically, he stood between her outstretched legs and held the glowing blade a foot above her stomach. 
     The ropes allowed no movement whatsoever and she shuddered violently as the skin of her belly and chest tightened and she held her breath in an effort to swallow the panic that was rising in her throat. Like the brave princess Olgan, she wanted to resist out of stubborness and determination but, at that moment, there seemed no point. Perhaps if Urien were to gain the satisfation of making her afraid, she would gain time for them all. Maybe a miracle would occur. Maybe pigs would fly. 
     As the blade lowered to within six inches of her bare chest, she gave in and the scream she let out shattered the stillness of the night as her body convulsed uncontrollably, straining against her bonds, the ropes holding her wrists and ankles to the wooden legs at the four corners of the table turning red with her blood. 
     Urien beamed with delight. What his men had failed to do, he had achieved in just a few moments. His men laughed as she continued to squirm, bucking and thrashing on that hard table, a slow death from sheer agony inches away. 
     He withdrew the sword. 
     ‘Not yet, Ædra,’ the sadistic chieftain said. ‘Not yet. You have not yet suffered enough. I can keep this up all night, can you?’ 
     Sweat poured from her face and body as she lay, crying, in front of them all, hopelessly defeated at long last. 
     Urien thrust the sword back into the fire and leered. ‘What do you hate most of all? Not death, I know. Pain? Maybe.’ 
     He looked down at the fallen King. ‘I know. Perhaps I should cut up your twin brother in front of your eyes.’ 
     Ædra shook her head frantically. ‘No. Anything but that.’ 
     ‘Anything?’ 
     She nodded. ‘Please. Anything at all.’ 
     He looked at the dozen or so of his men and a grin spread over his face. ‘Use her. I am going out for some fresh air until my sword is ready again. While I am out, I want to hear lots of screaming and, when I get back, I want to see a great deal of her blood on the table. Do you understand?’ 
     They all nodded, smiling broadly. Over the years, they had perfected the most obscene ways of abusing women without actually causing death. 
     ‘Don’t kill her,’ he warned. ‘I want that pleasure for myself when I return.’ 
     He left. 
     He returned almost immediately, head-first, skidding along the floor until he came up against the far wall with a jarring crash. The men stared at the doorway which remained empty and Urien, dazed, staggered slowly to his feet. 
     Suddenly, one of the men gasped and pointed as the figure of a teenage girl appeared, framed in the doorway. Urien reached out and grasped the sword from the fire and stood in front of Ædra. 
     ‘Come in, kid,’ he sneered. ‘Come and watch your Princess burn.’ 
     He raised the sword again but there was a sudden movement in the doorway and a gasp came from Urien as he fell backwards against the fireplace. He tried to speak but was unable as the red-hot sword fell from hands which slowy rose and wrapped themselves around the javelin pinning him to the cross-member above the fire. His clothing caught alight and screams of agony came from him as the flames licked up his legs and back as his body convulsed. 
     The sound broke the spell and his men reached for their weapons as the girl stepped aside and a knight in black stepped over the threshold, Excalibur held out before him. 
     Urien managed one last command before he finally shuddered his last. ‘Kill her,’ he shouted as the flames devoured him whole. 
     Ten men raised their swords to hack at Ædra’s defenceless body and she closed her eyes. 
     Things then happened very fast. There was a clashing of metal upon metal and repeated grunts around her but, strangely enough, no pain. She opened one eye and drew in her breath sharply. Swords were flashing within inches of her body but none connected. 
     ‘Excalibur,’ she whispered as the mighty sword became a blur of movement above her, protecting her. The knight ducked and weaved as, one by one, the men of Rheged fell in death.


     After what seemed like hours but nust have been mere ninutes, she dared to breath out again as silence fell in the room. A shadow fell across her body as the knight stood aver her, the sword still poised above here. Her eyes darted from visor to sword as the figure stepped closer, the light glinting off the razor-sharp blade, inches from her body. 
     She shook her head slightly. ‘Please don’t.’ 
     ‘Please don’t what?’ said the voice and her eyes flicked wide open with surprise. 
     The knight slowly raised his visor and stepped closer, his eyes locked to hers. 
     ‘Galahad,’ she whispered, relief flooding through her body, tears of joy running down her cheeks. 
     ‘Merlin said you might need looking after. It looks as if he was right.’ 
     ‘Merlin?’ 
     ‘He called me in Gaul and sent me on a quest to find you and take care of you.’ He looked around the room. ‘It seems as if I was just in time.’ 
     ‘Oh. Galahad,’ said Ædra as her husband cut the ropes so that she could sit up. ‘I do love you.’ 
     ‘I certainly hope so,’ he said and tenderly kissed her lips. ‘I’ve come along way for that.’ 
     There was a faint cough from the doorway. 
     Galahad turned. ‘By the way. I found a friend of yours limping along the road close to the causeway.’ 
     Ædra looked. 
     ‘Melane,’ she cried, holding out her arms to the young girl. 
     ‘I’m sorry, Princess,’ she said from within Ædra’s entbrace. ‘My horse fell on Lmberton Moor and it has taken me four days to walk back through the forest.’ 
     ‘Oh my poor girl,’ said the Princess, holding her unslung hand tightly. ‘I’m just glad that you are safe.’ 
     ‘I’m afraid I was unable to reach Odin’s Burgh to fetch reiforcentents,’ she added. 
     ‘No, but you just made up for it,’ Ædra said, looking at the scorched body of Urien still hanging from the javelin which had pierced his chest and pinned him to the fireplace. 
     A groan made then turn as Ædred sat up, rubbing his head. ‘Where am I?’ 
     ‘Wake up, brother dear,’ said Ædra, slipping from the table. ‘You’re missing out on all the fun.’


     Peace came again to the Kingdom of Northumbria. Over a thousand of Urien’s army had been captured, many of them wounded. Marcus strutted around proudly and Polinus’ troops guarded the prisoners as they sat on the shore, looking thoroughly dejected. 
     ‘Who is chieftain among you?’ asked Ædred as he rode up with his sister and brother-in-law. 
     ‘I am,’ said Morcant. ‘The others are dead.’ 
     ‘How long will it take you to get home?’ 
     ‘Home?’ He was stunned. ‘You’re letting us go?’ 
     Ædred nodded. ‘We have no slavery here. Just don’t ever come back.’ 
     ‘Don’t worry. We won’t.’ 
     Ædra nudged her mount forward. ‘If you do, we will be less merciful next time.’ 
     ‘Are...are you Queen Ædra?’ 
     She nodded. 
     He smiled. ‘They said you were beautiful but they didn’t tell me the half.’ 
     ‘Morcant of the Carletti, your flattery will get you everywhere. When you have recovered, return to Yorwick in peace and we shall banquet together.’ 
     ‘Are we really free to go? It’s not a trick?’ 
     ‘No, my friend. Urien was the troublemaker, I know that. Just promise me one thing.’ 
     ‘Willingly.’ 
     ‘If you ever decide to become a Christian, do not do so for money.’ 
     ‘I cannot see your god accepting us. Not after today.’ 
     ‘My God is very forgiving, Morcant. You should try it. I’ll wager that one day there will even be Christian churches in Cwmria.’ 


- Epilogue -

     Back at the fort, they prepared to leave for Iarum and Yorwick. Bebba was sad to see them go. 
     ‘You will return one day, won’t you?’ 
     ‘Of course,’ said Ædra. ‘But there is much work to be done. My new bridge, for example.’ 
     Ædred frowned. ‘Who will design it for you?’ 
     ‘Why, by Princess Roxana. Who did you think?’ 
     ‘But she is just a child.’ 
     ‘Yes, but like her aunt Toreal in Westseax, she was taught to draw by the great Pict artist, Golmar. She will make a fine job of it.’ 
     ‘And will you now live in larun?’ asked the aged Ida. 
     ‘Eventually, my good friend, although I like it very much here, too. But first, I must return to Beroic.’ 
     ‘Can I come with you?’ asked Marcus. 
     ‘That depends upon your father, my lad. As far as I am concerned, it is permissable.’ 
     The young man turned to Polimus. ‘Can I, father? Please say yes.’ 
     ‘I can think of no-one I would rather you be with. Go, my son.’ 
     ‘Thank you father. I will help to protect the Princess for you.’ 
     Galahad smiled at the boy. ‘Welcome to Ædra’s Avengers.’ 
     ‘Ædra’s Avengers,’ repeated the Princess. ‘I like that.’ 
     ‘What will you do first?’ asked Bebba. 
     ‘Jules and Pierre have agreed to travel with us back to Gaul where I have a small son who has not seen his mother in almost a year. I have a lot of cuddles to catch up on.’ 
     ‘And what about me?’ asked Galahad, his arm tightly around her shoulder. 
     She looked up at him with love in her deep, blue eyes and smiled. ‘I have something far better stored up for you.’

     Merlin also smiled. Now they were even. The Princess had once given him his life when it was in her hands and by calling Galahad from Gaul and sending him to protect her when she was in danger, he had made the score equal. 
     But woe betide Ædra if their paths ever crossed again.