Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [66]
No need to ask where else. “The Saxons,” her father spat in disgust. The messenger nodded. “So we need you, ready with a second force, to hold them back if they do push forward.”
With Gwen watching and listening, committing everything to memory even though she didn’t understand more than half of what she heard, the messenger outlined the possible strategies. Rough maps were sketched out in charcoal on the stones; the best of those were transferred with great labor onto tanned hide with a quill and walnut-hull ink. By the time the messenger left, Gwen’s father had nothing but praise for the wisdom of the young Arthur.
There did not seem to be enough hours of daylight for all the preparations, and the warmer the weather became and the longer the days, the more the sense of urgency increased. Now it was Gwen who was up at dawn and hard at it until she almost fell asleep with her work in her hands; Gynath had a great deal to do, yes, but not nearly as much. Eleri had always kept ample supplies of healing herbs and so forth on hand, and there had not been much call for such things in the last year. “Always be prepared for warfare,” had been her admonition to her women, and so they always were.
It was about lambing time, when it was possible to move freely about the countryside, and the storms of winter were past and boats could sail, that messengers again galloped among the High King’s allies. The High King had been brought word from his spies. The Northerners were indeed massing ships, as if to make a great raid. The levies were called up and marched off to join the High King. King Lleudd made a great show of sending them off and advised the men he sent to make double fires at night, and drag brushes behind them to make it seem that their numbers were larger. Then he told those he had kept in reserve to be ready and to keep their weapons to hand, as Arthur had warned him.
And Arthur was right.
Near sunset, very near Beltane, a messenger on a winded horse rode across the southern border of Lleudd’s kingdom of Pwyll, having already come through Pengwen, Calchfynelld, and Caer Celemion. The Saxons of the south were, indeed, massing for war and marching. And Lot of Orkney was about to have a rude surprise, for the Northerners were making straight for the shores of Lothian, not further south. Perhaps it was just as well he had delayed in sending his levies, for they would not have far to march to meet the enemy. Doubtless, he would claim that his wife and Morgana had had some manner of magical warning this was to be so. And doubtless, for the sake of peace, Arthur would accept this, whether he believed it or not.
So said Bronwyn as she and the women methodically passed the readied saddlebags to the squires, who put them on the horses they had already harnessed. The king had planned this to a nicety, so that the warriors could move out on a moment’s warning, and the moment there was light, every man, woman, and child was up and putting his preparations into action. The cavalry would go first, followed by the chariots. There would be no men afoot; Arthur would supply the foot soldiers, for Lleudd’s levies that had gone north consisted primarily of foot. Arthur had begged him to reserve the troops that could move faster for the Saxons.
The king himself would lead them. And this alone showed how grave the threat was. If he fell, that would leave Pwyll in the hands of three girls, none of them wed.
But he would not fall. Gwen willed it, fiercely. Besides, he would be in his chariot, and his chariot driver was second only to Braith in skill.