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They stayed at the inn the whole day, talking to the odd candidate. Other bands were recruiting too, and it seemed that those were luckier than the men from Bedford. Few had been interested, and most were clearly completely fresh, farm hands and lesser sons out to seek fame, fortune and adventure - much like Caradoc, who, they noted, hadn’t dared to return after Dafwydd beat him so thoroughly. The veterans were clearly not interested in taking service in lord Band’s garrison, probably because of the feud, and Ceredig brooded on this as they ate their supper.
Then an unlikely couple came to their table and asked if they could join them. One looked almost like a Saxon, with long, pale blond, unkempt hair, a very protruding lower jaw, and shabby clothes. In comparison, his companion looked like he had come directly from some court. He was of Roman stock, elegantly dressed and possessing exquisite manners, his otherwise noble features somewhat marred by a very large, Roman nose.
Dafwydd, who had become rather drunk by then, thought it was a Saxon standing in front of him.
"You bastard!" he shouted. "You worm-eaten rapist, you son of a motherless bitch! I’ll kill you, I’ll rip your head off and stuff it up your arse!"
He rose to unsteady feet and started to fumble for his sword. Oban and Owain jumped up, held him tightly and tried to make him sit down again, while the blond man looked angrily at him.
"At least me mum didn’a run ewey from me before I was born, as yez did! If yez wanna do sumefin’ wi’ me head yez are more’n welcome to try, but thet big mouth of yez, thet dung-stinkin’ breedin’ groun’ for rotten flies, is a health risk. I’ll do what yez obviously haven’t got the sense to do for yez’elf and shut it up!"
With that, he landed an uppercut on the jaw of Dafwydd, who slumped back onto the bench again, stunnedly looking at the blond man who glared angrily back at him, daring him to try to rise again. The dialect he had delivered his answer in was definitely not Saxon - he sounded like he came from some backwater in the woods.
The Roman laid a hand on his companion’s shoulder.
"There, Elffin, you can calm down now. You have shown him you will brook no nonsense, and it seems he is not interested in pursuing the issue further."
Elffin relaxed, and sat down opposite Dafwydd, who flinched back.
"Look, I’m sorry", he said, caressing his chin, "but I thought you were a Saxon."
"Humph! Saxun, eh?" Elffin glared at him and his lower jaw seemed to bite off each syllable. "I’ll heve yez know thet I’m from Lins’y, I am, and thare’s no friggin’ outlannish peeple like Saxuns in Lins’y where I’m from."
Meanwhile, the Roman had sat down beside him, waving for the serving maid with an elegant gesture.
"Would you be a good girl and bring me a cup of good wine, not the cheapest, mind you, and give my friend here a tankard of ale. You can bring one for the gentleman with the aching chin here, too."
Rhodry added another tankard to the order, as did Ceredig, while Owain just smiled at her.
"Sure thing, and I’ll bring one for the pretty boy as well", she said with a smile and a wink aimed at Owain.
The Roman studied the company from Bedford for a moment, then addressed Ceredig.
"I can see you are the leader of this group. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Pertacus; I am the third son of Ignatius, steward of the lovely city of Venta Isinorum in Lindsey. My friend here is called Elffin, and, as you may have deduced, he is a man of Lindsey too, although from a somewhat more modest settlement than my hometown. Do not judge him too harsh, he is a bit sensitive about being called foreigner. Now that he has had the chance to hit someone, he will soon be his charming self again. Will you not, Elffin?"
"Yeah, guess so", Elffin muttered. Then he looked at Dafwydd, saying "No grudges, eh?" with a charming, lop-sided smile.
"No grudges, right", Dafwydd replied, extending a hand which Elffin shook.
"Wonderful", Pertacus said, "even splendid. Now, then. As the result of an unfortunate bet, we find ourselves in need of employment. I asked the landlord for people recruiting here, and he directed me to you. Were we misinformed by the gentleman, or would you consider me and my friend here to be worthy to be your comrades in arms?"
"That would depend on whether or not you can fight", Ceredig said as he took his tankard from the maid. "We don’t want anybody who has never fought for real, if you see what I mean."
"Then I believe we represent exactly what you are looking for. I have myself served in the city watch of my home for three years, and, for reasons I think you understand, Elffin here has spent the better part of his life fighting."
Ceredig hide a laugh in a hasty cough and glanced at the blond man, who had begun talking to Dafwydd in a friendly manner while waving with his emptied tankard. Pertacus then delivered an impressive recapitulation of his and Elffin’s adventures both together and alone. He told of fights with merciless robbers and brawling farmers, of hunting wild and fearsome beasts in the woods and deceitful thieves in the city.
"Elffin here is a very good hunter and tracker, as well as a master of disguise, he finished, and I have the honour of being a student of architecture - and how to pull it down, as it were. All in all, I think you will find no two persons more suited to serve the glory of Bedford."
Ceredig was so impressed with this account of glorious deeds that he wouldn’t even bother to test them.
"Yes", he said, "I think you’ll do very well."
Then he looked around the inn. The sun had set some time ago and torches illuminated the scruffy tavern and the few remaining patrons who were staring gloomily into their cups and tankards.
"I think we will have to be satisfied with what we have, now. It is time to return back home."
While Oban gave Elffin and Pertacus the directions to Band’s factor - since they were staying in another inn they would show up in the morning with their things - Owain and Rhodry helped the still drunk Dafwydd to his feet, and steadied his legs as they walked towards the door.
"Hey! Pretty boy! Where do you think you are going?"
Owain turned to the serving maid who stood looking at him, hands on hips.
"I’m sorry", he said, "but I must help my friend. Perhaps we’ll meet some other time."
Then he hurried outside, followed by an account of what the maid thought of men who took advantage of innocent girls. Ceredig chuckled, shook his head, gathered their things and left the inn together with the smiling Oban. Outside they only found a very amused Rhodry and an equally embarrassed Owain.
"I didn’t take advantage of her, did I?" he asked his brother. "I never said anything to her. It was her idea to bring me ale all the time."
"Don’t worry", Ceredig said, still smiling. "It’ll be a valuable lesson in modesty to her that not all men want to get between her legs. But where’s Dafwydd?"
"Oh, he was feeling a wee bit delicate", Rhodry said, "and decided he had reason to visit that alley where…"
He was interrupted by a shout from the alley. It was Dafwydd.
"Whoa! Someone’s asleep here!"
Ceredig and Oban exchanged a worried look as a horrible suspicion reared its head. A few quick steps into the narrow alley beside the inn confirmed their fears. Dafwydd stood swaying over the dead body of Caradoc.
"Lir’s fins!" Ceredig exclaimed. "If the watch finds him we’ll be held for murder!"
"No worries!" Dafwydd slurred, waving for them to stay back. "I’ll take care of it."
With a grunt he picked up the dead warrior-to-be and walked further into the alley. By a back door to the inn there was a garbage heap and a pitchfork. Before the unbelieving eyes of Oban and Ceredig - Owain and Rhodry stood watch at the alleyway entrance - their friend quickly buried the body in the garbage. Happy with his cunning solution to the embarrassing problem, Dafwydd came out of the alley and rolled down his sleeves.
"See? No worries, as I said."
"Brilliant, Dafwydd. Now lets get out of here", Ceredig said exasperated.
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Happy with his cunning solution, Dafwydd came out of the alley and rolled down his sleeves.
They hadn’t gone far when they heard someone shout behind them and a couple of watchmen who happened by set out towards the inn.
"Hello there", one of them said to Ceredig as they were passing. "Is there any problem?"
"No", Ceredig said, trying to keep his voice calm. "We are just helping our friend here to his bed." Dafwydd nodded happily and belched.
"Theresh some short of trouble back there, I shink", he slurred, waving in the direction they had came from. "Jusht maybe you should take a look. Theresh shomefing rotten there I think." Dafwydd started to giggle at his own wit.
Owain shook him roughly.
"Behave yourself man! You aren’t home on the farm now! Stop bothering these good men, they have more important matters to attend than listening to you!"
"That’s correct", the watchman said. "Get this drunkard in bed, he looks like he might do something stupid."
Then he and his colleague went on towards the inn.
"I promish I won’t do anyshing stupid, sir", Dafwydd yelled after them, before Owain’s elbow made him lose his breath.
"You keep quiet now", Oban growled at him, "or I’ll rip that blabbering tongue out of your mouth!"
That worked, apparently.
* * *
They found their way back to the factor without further incidents and promptly heaved Dafwydd into a watertrough, leaving him spluttering there as they went to sleep. The next morning, Dafwydd had a terrible headache and sat moaning as the others broke their fast.
"I swear I’ll never drink that much again!"
"Good, then you’ll hopefully not be as stupid again", Ceredig said.
"What? What did I do? It’s all a blur…"
They told him what had transpired and reintroduced him to Rhodry. When he heard how he had accidentally killed a young man and hidden the corpse in a garbage heap Dafwydd’s face turned even more ashen.
"I didn’t!" he exclaimed. "Oh, what should I do? I must go to the watch and tell them!"
"No, as a matter of fact, you mustn’t", Ceredig told him. "We can’t afford to lose you too. We’ll all keep silent about this, but as soon as you feel like getting drunk again, remember this deed."
"I swear I’ll never get drunk again", Dafwydd promised in a small voice.
As far as I know he kept that promise. Years later when he sat at the high table at Beale Valet or Hertford he was as temperate as he was in the private company of his friends.
As they were eating, one of the factor’s men came to tell them that two warriors had arrived and were waiting for Sir Ceredig in the yard. The men from Bedford all went out to greet the newest additions to their group and were met with a comic sight. Elffin, the scruffy-looking blond man, was sitting on a small, old sumpter, which was dwarfed beside Pertacus’ steed: a gigantic, beautiful charger with richly adorned tack. Behind the stallion stood a rouncy on lead line, carrying packs. Pertacus raised his hand in greeting.
"Good morning, gentle men. I trust you have all enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep? When, pray tell, are you planning to leave for our new home?"
"Oh, soon enough, soon enough", Ceredig said, impressed with the magnificent animal. "We will have to get the wagons ready, but we’ll be leaving as soon as we can. Have you broken your fast yet? If you haven’t you can join us."
"Excellent, we’ll gladly accept that generous offer. Will we not, Elffin?" Pertacus said and got down from his horse.
"Yeah, gladlee", Elffin grunted. Then he yawned and stretched his arms above him. "Ooh, ‘tis too erly to be up ‘n’ about" he complained, then he swung his leg over the back of his horse and followed them inside.
To tell the truth, Pertacus was no fonder of getting up early than Elffin, but he was always concerned about appearances, trying to make a good impression, whereas Elffin never gave a hoot for anybody’s opinion of him.
Text (c) Örjan Westin 1999, art (c) Ann-Cathrine Loo 1999.