EPILOGUE
Bedwir turned the body over — already stiff and reeking — and pried open the man’s bag to see if it contained any valuables. Finding nothing but dried, dusty meat, he kicked the sack away and wiped his hands. He hated the job of sorting through the belongings of the dead. Especially when wolves and crows had been devouring the bodies. Yet the morning sun had barely risen when Vortigern had ordered everyone to search the dead from the previous night’s battle.
So here he was at the cursed circle of stones, grubbing through the clothing and bags of dead druidow. And if Vortigern himself had not personally come to bury Uther, Bedwir would have begged off the gruesome task and found someone to fix his boot instead.
But Uther! What a calamity for the druidow to sacrifice him on the Stone. If only Vortigern had known. If only they hadn’t waited for nightfall but attacked sooner. Who would have guessed?
And the loss of young Arthur was almost more than he could bear. Sydnius delivered the news just an hour since that they had found the High King’s family slain and buried on the island. For the first time in his remembrance, Bedwir had witnessed Vortigern weep. His sister, nieces, and nephew all shared the grave, but who buried them, nobody knew.
Colvarth was surely dead too, but no one could figure out where his corpse lay. Drowned in the marsh, some said.
In love for his lost lord, Vortigern and some select warriors picked rocks from a wide area and built a mighty cairn over Uther south and west of the circle of stones. All while Bedwir and the other luckless warriors dealt with the dead.
Ah, these druidow held curious possessions. If Bedwir found one coin for every five carved stones or oddly painted strips of bark, he was lucky. And the weapons were mostly useless. Once upon a time, some would have been fine instruments of war but were now chinked and rusty with old handles. These proud people had become destitute.
He found a pile of three men and began separating them. The bottom man had a long char-colored beard and was dressed differently, brightly. Must be Eirish. Maybe a chance to find something useful. First Bedwir took the wiry silver torc from the man’s neck and then pried the sword from his hand. It was beautiful! Gilt, with flashes of small gems in the hilt, and a sharp edge.
Using the sword, Bedwir cut the man’s bag from his belt and shook it. The sound of coins jingled, and he pulled the bag strings open.
The man moaned, and Bedwir jumped back. The man’s fingers twitched, and he looked up with a yellowed eye. The Eirish warrior was alive.
“Help me …” he whispered, but a gaping hole bled from his abdomen, and his embroidered shirt was covered in blood.
Bedwir stood. “Vortigern! One of the Eirish warriors is alive!” Only Vortigern was just out of earshot, and another passed the word on to him.
Everyone rushed over, and when the battle chief arrived, he drew his sword and held it near the man’s throat. “What do you know of the death of the queen?”
The man opened a bloodshot and shrunken eye. “Just planned to take … king and the child …”
Vortigern pushed the blade against his skin. “And the child? Where’s his body?”
The man’s eye flitted back and forth.
“Tell me!”
“Alive … taken by …”
Bedwir gasped. Arthur was among the living?
Vortigern kicked the man. “Who? Who took him?”
“A boy. Garth … Garthwys … stole him from us … and ya … yar the —”
Roaring in anger, Vortigern drove his blade into the warrior’s throat, silencing him forever. He turned to his massed warriors. “Have you seen anything unusual? Anyone riding off?”
One of the warriors recruited from the village stepped forward. Rondroc by name, if Bedwir remembered. “Last night I was stationed at the camp and heard horses beyond the lake.”
Rewan thumped the man on the chest. “The horses were everywhere, blast you! It took hours to gather them.”
“But I saw people, and strange lights. I heard them riding off to the east. My father even told me that Merlin was there.”
Vortigern shoved him against one of the massive stones. “Is this truth?”
The young man nodded and was knocked to the ground for his answer.
Vortigern unclasped his horn and blew it loudly.
“Everyone get mounted! We’ll find those who took Arthur hostage — and then I’ll have my justice.”