The Last Enchantment - Mary Stewart [70]
"Indeed, indeed it is. There are several ways. No one knew for sure. This is the truth, my lord."
"Yes. If anyone had known, some of the menfolk might have tried to follow. So we go back and take the first road to the shore. We can ride along the beach to look for them. Come."
But as I swung my mule's head round, his hand came down on the rein. It was something he would hardly have dared to do, except in desperation. "My lord -- forgive me. What are you going to do? After all this...are you still trying to find the child?"
"What do you think? Arthur's son?"
"But Arthur himself wants him dead!"
So that was it. I should have guessed long since. My mule jibbed as the reins jerked in my hands. "So you were listening at Caerleon. You heard what he said to me that night."
"Yes." This time I could hardly hear him. "To refuse to murder a child, lord, that is one thing. But when the murder is done for you -- "
"There is no need to struggle to prevent it? Perhaps not. But since you were eavesdropping that night, you may also have heard me tell the King that I take orders from an authority beyond his own. And so far my gods have told or shown me nothing. Do you imagine they want us to emulate Lot, and his bitch of a queen? And you have heard the calumny they have thrown upon Arthur. For his honour's sake, even just for his peace of mind, he has to know the truth. I am here for him, to watch and to report. Whatever is to be done, I shall do it. Now take your hand off my rein."
He obeyed. I kicked the mule to a gallop. We pounded back along the road.
This was the way we had originally come to Dunpeldyr by daylight. I tried to remember what we had seen then of the coastline. It is a coast of high cliffs, with wide sandy bays between them. One great headland jutted out about a mile from the town, and even at low tide it seemed unlikely that a man could ride round it. But just beyond the headland was a track leading toward the sea. From there -- and the tide, I reckoned, was well out now -- we could ride the whole way back along the shore to the mouth of the Tyne.
Faintly, but perceptibly, the night was slackening toward dawn. It was possible to see our way.
Now a cairn of stones loomed on our right. On a flat slab at its base a bundle of feathers stirred in the wind, and the mules showed the whites of their eyes; I supposed they could smell the blood. And here was the track, leading off across rough grassland toward the sea. We swung into it. Presently the track sloped downhill, and there before us was the shore, and the grey murmur of the sea.
The vast headland loomed on our right; to the left the sand stretched level and grey. We turned that way, and struck once more to a gallop.
The tide was out, the rippled sand packed hard. To our right the sea threw a kind of grey light up to the cloudy sky. Some way to the north, set back in the midst of that luminous grey, was the mass of the great rock where the lighthouse stands. The light was red and steady. Soon, I thought, as our mules pounded along, we should be able to distinguish the looming shape of Dunpeldyr's crag to landward, and the level reaches of the bay where the river meets the sea.
Ahead of us a low headland jutted out, its seaward end black and broken, with the water whitening at its edge. We rounded it, the mules splashing fetlock-deep through the creaming surf. Now we could see Dunpeldyr, a mile or two away inland, still alive with lights. Ahead of us lay the last stretch of sand. Shadowy trees marked the river's course, and the ashen glimmer where its waters spread out to meet the sea. And along the river's edge, where the sea-road ran, bobbed the torches of horsemen heading back at a steady canter for the town. The work was done.
My mule came willingly to a halt. Ulfin's stopped, blowing, half a length to the rear. Under their hoofs the ebbtide dragged at the grating sand.
After a while I spoke. "You have your wish, it seems."
"My lord, forgive me. All I could think of -- "
"What do I forgive? Am I to bear you a grudge for serving your master rather