The trap

Belatedly they left Beale Valet and the town of Huntington. Pertacus had slept late and missed the whole fight and greeted them at the breakfast table. He was tired, he said, and soon his yawns influenced Owain, who had been busy with the girl Ellda for the better part of the night. As always, Elffin felt invigorated after the fight, and he ate with a good appetite. When they finally left, the sun had risen high, and Ceredig set a good pace.

Soon Pertacus and Owain lagged behind, while Ceredig and Elffin rode on. By the early evening they caught up with Cerwd and his escort of five soldiers. After a brief greeting, Ceredig pushed on, eager to get well ahead. Under his breath he cursed his brother and Pertacus for falling behind, but in his pursuit he had not noticed their absence until they were too far behind. As he and Elffin made camp that night, he told him of his plan.

"We can’t just attack them in broad daylight, and we have no quarrel with the soldiers. Now, I talked a bit with them while you were amusing yourselves last night, and I found out that they find this churchman strange and almost inhuman. And who can blame them? You can’t trust people like that."

"Can ye trust anybody?" Elffin asked teasingly

"Well, I trusted my silly brother would be here. My plan depends on him."

"What plan is that? Why can’t we just tell kill them?"

"Because we might very well get killed ourselves!" Ceredig said hotly. "No, with my plan we could lure Cerwd away from his soldiers and kill him silently, without them ever finding out what happened to him."

"Oh?" Elffin said. "How do ye plan to do that?"

"He’s a priest, right? What would a priest do if a pretty girl came and asked for help? Say that her poor old mother is dying and needs to have some prayers said, or something like that. And because her mother lies sick, those noisome soldiers can’t come with him. Besides, what threat could she pose? Then, as he doesn’t return, they find him killed in the woods, and the only trace of the girl being a piece of her dress, torn off as she was carried away by robbers?"

"Brilliant!" Elffin exclaimed. "But where are ye going to find a girl who’ll keep quiet?"

"I was intending to use Owain. I have borrowed a dress from Maugli and with that on, and with braids in his hair, he’ll look just like a girl. I knew his pretty face would be useful some day!"

"Um, I don’t know", Elffin said sceptically. "Owain is more than a foot taller than Maugli. Sure, she is almost as broad over the shoulders as I am, but I don’t think one of her dresses would fit Owain."

"Right", Ceredig said with a mean look at Elffin’s smooth cheeks and long hair. "But you are shorter than Owain, and Pertacus said you were a master of disguise…"

"No! No, no, no", Elffin protested. "Ye can’t be serious! Not me, I’m not dressing up like a girl to fool some priest."

"Why not? Nobody will know it’s you. Besides, I thought you didn’t care what people say about you."

"No, no. Ye don’ understand. I don’ care ebout that", Elffin said, all worked up now, "not at all. But where could I have me sword? An’ how am I supposed to move in that?"

He looked at Ceredig with honest concern. "I must be able to fight if I need to."

"But you fought this morning." Ceredig found it hard not to laugh. "Surely you would let me handle a simple priest. After all, you won a glorious victory over a well known knight."

"Ye don’ understand, Ceredig." Elffin’s lower jaw shot out, stubbornly. "A girl must be able to defend herself, that’s all I’m saying."

Ceredig stared at him, then collapsed in helpless laughter while trying to picture Elffin in a pink dress, protecting his virtue with a big sword. Elffin looked at him, then turned away with a hurt expression.

"If ye want me to dress up and look like a girl, ye’ll have to give me some time to prepare and practice. They walk in a special way, ye know. And I’d need a lot of stuff I don’t have here. Ye can’t just put on a dress and plaid yer hair and think ye look like a girl."

"All right, Elffin", Ceredig agreed, still chuckling, "you don’t have to. I’ll wait for my brother. He’s easier to convince."

*        *        *

Meanwhile, Owain and Pertacus had continued in a more leisurely pace, and as the sun set over the woods of Huntington, they saw a flickering fire ahead.

"That must be them", Pertacus said. "I was sure their horses couldn’t manage that speed all day. You know, you can break a horse completely if you push it too hard. I wouldn’t ever risk that."

"I know", Owain said as Pertacus patted his big stallion on the neck, "but you know Ceredig. Always in a hurry." Then he quickly added: "But he is usually right. I feel bad about lagging behind like this."

"Don’t worry. We caught up, did we not?" Pertacus said as he led the way towards the camp beside the road. "Hello there!" he called out to the man he saw sitting by the fire. "You haven’t got far today, have you?"

"No, my son, but I’m sure our destination waits for us." Cerwd answered with a benign smile. The he rose from the log he had sat on as his escort came out from behind the trees, swords in hand. "Welcome to our camp, travellers. Can I invite you to share our meal?"

Pertacus and Owain exchanged a startled look, then accepted as graciously as they could the hospitality of the man they were sent out to kill.

They shared the meal and the campfire, and as they introduced themselves, Cerwd asked them where they were heading. Owain, who found it hard to lie, told him the story his brother had impressed upon him. Then he went on to tell they were from Bedford, and the soldiers reacted instantly by putting hand to hilt. With a dismissive wave Cerwd put them to rest, saying: "Calm, these men mean us no harm. The danger comes from another, but may still be averted. Pray it will be so."

Then he bid them good night and withdrew into his tent. Owain and Pertacus remained seated, nervously squirming under the hostile eyes of the soldiers. Nobody said anything, but after a while they drew their swords, one by one, and started to sharpen them. The low, rasping sound unnerved Pertacus, and he hoped it would wake Cerwd. The hostility was almost tangible; the cold expressions on the faces of the soldiers told him that they would be lucky to survive this night.

Suddenly he rose and went to his horse, which still was carrying the saddle. Feigning to inspect the saddle-girth, he actually cut it off. The crash of the saddle and saddlebags hitting the ground startled them all, and Cerwd emerged from the tent. He cast a glance at Pertacus, then turned to his men.

"Did I not tell you that I have nothing to fear from these men? Stop threatening them at once, they are my guests and will be treated honourably. Is that understood?"

Owain later told me he found it strange how the soldiers seemed to shrink under his eyes. Without raising his voice or losing his benevolent expression, Cerwd had cowed them into submission. The oldest of the men rose and bowed to the priest.

"I apologise, my lord." he said.

"You have offended me less than you have offended our guests, Niall. Ask their forgiveness instead."

Under the eyes of Cerwd, the soldiers apologised in unison. Then he went back to his tent. Pertacus and Owain exchanged a nervous look, but the manner of the soldiers had changed profoundly. Now they treated them like guests, and weary after a long day they fell asleep, both of them pondering the events of the evening.

They rose before dawn and broke their fast with bread and cheese. As they were riding together, the soldiers were still a little tense, but much less so than they had been the night before. Owain suspected that the fact that they were five and the possible assailants only were two had more to do with that than the words of the priest. As he had told Earl Robert, Cerwd rode a mule, and the animal was neither fast nor elegant. It flicked its long ears and gave Pertacus’ horse a disdainful look, as if it knew something unflattering about the stallion that towered over him. The saddle-girth had been patched as good as Pertacus knew, and it remained patched during the day, although he refrained from any sudden moves.

"So you are on a pilgrimage too, then?" Cerwd asked the Roman. "Imagine that the holy well draws so many visitors."

"Oh, to be honest I am more interested in the church than in the well. Some years ago, I passed through Peterborough on my way to London, but unfortunately I had no time to spare to visit and study the holy building."

This ignited a long, friendly discussion between the two about the relative merits of various churches. Owain sighed and rode in silence behind them, until the leader of the escort, the sergeant called Niall, rode up alongside him and gave him a piercing glance.

"Weren’t you travelling with your brother?" he asked.

"Yes, but we couldn’t keep up with him and Elffin yesterday." Owain’s voice was worried. "I fear he might be angry with me now."

"Elffin, that’s the one who was laying eyes on sir Neddig’s daughter, right?"

"Yes, and this Neddig challenged him to a duel, and Elffin won!"

This seemed to surprise the Niall. "He did? He must be good, then. Neddig is known to be a fearsome soldier."

"Oh, Elffin can be quite fearsome too, when he has reason to." Owain said with a smile.

"So a thirteen year old girl is reason, then?"

"Thirteen? But, she looked to be much older than that!" Owain exclaimed.

Niall nodded. "That she does, lad, that she does. In some ways she is even more dangerous than her father is. But tell me, you don’t seem to be an overly devout man – why are you going on this pilgrimage?"

"Um, I just follow my brother." Owain blushed, knowing that this line of question could be troublesome. But Niall just nodded and remained silent.

*        *        *

Just past midday they were hailed from the forest. They reined in and saw a fire glimmer in a clearing some fifty paces from the road. Then Elffin emerged and smiled.

"There ye are! We were getting a bit worried about ye, dontyeknow? Why don’t you bring yer friends with ye and have some hot stew? We’re camping just a bit away."

Owain and Pertacus greeted him hearty and introduced Cerwd and his men. Then they all followed him to the clearing where Ceredig waited by the fire. The introductions were repeated for his sake, although Cerwd greeted him by name. Ceredig looked slyly at him.

"I cannot offer you to be my guest, since these woods do not belong to me, but you are welcome to make us company tonight."

"I thank you for your courtesy, sir Ceredig, and gladly do I accept." He threw a glance at the overcast sky. "There is still some light left in this day, so we could continue for a while, but as I have told your brother I am in no hurry."

They unsaddled the horses, brought the packs to the campsite and put up their tents. Then they ate the stew, which was not what you might call a culinary masterpiece, with good appetite. During the whole meal, Ceredig tried to provoke Cerwd, but to no avail. Every scornful word was met with a friendly smile, every sarcasm with a lesson in the Christian faith, every sly question with an honest answer. Finally, Ceredig lost his temper over the other man’s patience and burst out:

"You are nothing but a coward, hiding in a woman’s dress, behind the thick walls of your church and praying to your impotent godling to protect you, asking for forgiveness instead of vengeance. A real man faces his enemies, and worships gods he can respect!"

Pertacus looked truly shocked and rose to his feet, as did Niall, who furiously pointed a finger at Ceredig.

"For those words you will die, you bastard!" he shouted and drew his sword.

Ceredig grabbed the sword he had leaned against the log he had been sitting on and unsheathed it as he rose. He backed away a couple of steps and threw the sheath away. This was not the result he had expected, but now he would have to see the game through. Cerwd jumped to his feet too.

"No! I forbid you!"

"I’ll teach him a very called for lesson in proper behaviour, sir." Niall’s words came out between clenched teeth. "Do not worry about me, this honourless braggart will be easily disposed of."

Ceredig just smiled and backed further away from the camp, into the open space of the clearing. The other soldiers followed Niall; their swords still sheathed. Ceredig threw a look at Elffin who stood hesitating by the fire.

"Keep them off my back, Elffin!"

Meanwhile, Owain and Pertacus were furiously rummaging through their packs. As soon as it was clear a fight would ensue they had silently drew back to arm and armour themselves. Nobody in the camp wore armour and they were sure the fight would be bloody. The same thought had struck Elffin even as Ceredig shouted. He drew his sword and hurried past the soldiers, placing himself between them and the combatants who had exchanged the first tentative blows.

"We’ll let them handle this alone, right?" Elffin shouted over the clang of steel and glared at the soldiers, and whether it was his menacing air or the respect he had earned by defeating their captain Neddig that kept them back he didn’t know. He was just happy they stayed put, and turned around to follow their gazes and to see how his friend fared.

As his eyes fell on the fighters he was shocked. The two unarmoured men were standing panting, all bloody. Ceredig had received an ugly cut over his right eye and the blood was flowing down, covering his face. His clothes were torn to shreds and all sullied red. Niall did not look any better, and it was obvious that both men were hovering on the brink of death. Then Ceredig lifted his sword with a grunt and hewed it in a final attack, using the last of his strength. Niall saw it coming and tried to meet it, but he was too hurt and worn out. A few inches the tip of his sword was lifted from the ground before it sank back again, and Elffin saw how he closed his eyes, how his lips began to move in a prayer to his god. Then Ceredig’s sword cut through his throat and as Niall fell, Ceredig himself staggered and toppled over.

For a moment that lasted an eternity the five men – Elffin and the four soldiers – stared at the horrendous scene. This was truly a duel to death, the death of both duellists. Then Elffin saw Ceredig’s chest move and heard a hoarse sigh. He was still alive! Then he felt a slight tension in the man closest to him and realised they would all jump on him and Ceredig to avenge their sergeant. But he had his sword in his hand while they had not.

Quickly he took a step away and turned, even as they started to draw their swords. Before the man closest to him could finish the motion he was dead, and Elffin prepared to fall himself for the hands of the remaining three. Silently cursing he dared a glance to where he had last seen his friends, but only saw Pertacus vainly trying to saddle his great horse, fumbling with the cut-off girth. Cerwd stood by the fire, still, seemingly shocked by the sudden exhibition of brutal violence. Then there was no more time for sightseeing. Carefully Elffin backed away, his eyes continuously moving between his opponents, their faces locked in determination as they drew closer and closer.

It didn’t take long before Elffin looked and felt like Niall and Ceredig had before the final blow. He had given the soldiers much, but received much more in return. With limbs weak from loss of blood, pain and cut muscles he struggled on. Too injured to attack anymore he vainly tried to defend himself. One of them held back now, his left hand clutching a deep cut in his sword-arm, but two still pressed on. Elffin blinked as he felt a tremor in the ground and he saw two bloodied swords close in on him. A flash of intense pain and all was darkness.

The tremor had been caused by Owain, who bore down on then on his horse. The soldier with the injured arm was cut down, and the other two threw themselves out of the way as he rode on. Nimbly Owain turned his horse and resumed his attack on the already bloody soldiers. But now they were prepared for him, and he was beset from both sides. Keeping his horse dancing he managed to keep the man on his left side away while he relentlessly hammered on the man to the right. Soon he fell, unable to hold his guard up any more, and as Owain yanked his blade loose from the man’s chest he heard a familiar thunder. The last man standing gave at Pertacus atop his gigantic charger a terrified look and tried to run, but it was too late. Without even slowing down, the stallion ran the man over, and the enormous hooves crushed him into a bloody pulp.

Owain had already jumped off his horse and ran to his brother’s side, thinking him dead. To his astonishment he found Cerwd already there, quickly and efficiently tending the worst wounds. As Owain fell to his knees he looked up briefly, then returned to his work. Within minutes Ceredig’s wounds were sewn and bandaged.

"Can you take care of the rest?" Cerwd asked. "It looks worse than it is, and I think he’ll come to soon. Give him some water if he does."

The tone was crisp, expecting obedience, and Owain stared after him with big eyes as he brought his leather case with him to the soldiers and Elffin. Quickly he examined them and began working on the first soldier Owain had cut down, but in vain. Pertacus, who stood holding the reins of his horse, watched how Cerwd signed himself and went on to kneel by Elffin’s side.

"Come here and help me", Cerwd commanded Pertacus. "He might still be saved if the Lord grant us fortune."

Not comprehending of the man’s mercy, Pertacus nevertheless obeyed, helping Cerwd tend his wounded friend. It was clear that Elffin was more dead than alive, but somehow Cerwd held him on the side of the living. At last his ragged breaths came easier, and Cerwd relaxed. He smiled wanly at Pertacus and wiped the perspiration called forth by concentration from his forehead.

"He’ll live, I think." Cerwd’s voice was tired. "I can see that you hold him dear. An old friend, perhaps? Guard over him, and should his condition become worse – fetch me at once."

Pertacus just nodded and sat by his friend’s side as Cerwd rose and stretched. As he turned around and began walking towards the fire he was greeted with the sight of Ceredig standing up, supported by his brother.

"You! Priest!" Ceredig’s slurred. "Stop right there!"

Cerwd obliged and watched the swaying, barely conscious Ceredig. Owain was frantically whispering in his ear, and tugged on his brother’s arm, but to no avail.

"You’ll die now!" Ceredig snarled. "I killed your brother and I’ll send you the same way." He took a staggering step forward.

"You will kill a guest, an unarmed man?" Cerwd asked mildly.

"I never invited you as a guest, and as for being unarmed…" Ceredig stooped down and picked up Niall’s sword. "Take this, it has tasted my blood already, so it is good enough."

"Take this, it has tasted my blood already, so it is good enough."

He threw the sword to Cerwd who surprised him by catching it easily and holding it like he was familiar with the feeling of having a hilt in his hand. He tried the balance and then inverted it, to hold it by the blade, making it resemble a cross. Then he held it up towards Ceredig, who was beginning to doubt his resolve.

"I have no desire to kill you, for you are but a victim of your own fear and ambition. Instead, I will pray for your release."

With that Cerwd drove the sword into the ground, thus placing a cross ahead of him as a ward against evil. Ceredig stood shaking with fatigue and unresolved frustration, and Owain spoke up while holding him still.

"He saved your life! You can’t kill him, you owe your life to him! And if you try, he’ll take it from you again. He knows how to handle a sword, he’s a nobleman’s son, and you can’t even stand unaided."

Both Cerwd and Owain awaited his reply, and in disgust Ceredig sheathed his sword.

"You are free to go. Take your donkey and leave this instant."

"And my men and their belongings?"

"Spoils of war!" Ceredig spat out. "Now leave before I change my mind!"

"I will pray for you", Cerwd said sadly. Then he picked up his case of potions, herbs and items of healing and let the sword remain in the ground. He gathered his belongings and put them on a pony, mounted his mule and left, without giving them a second glance. As soon as he had disappeared into the night, Ceredig collapsed again.

As he came to later, he professed no memory of the incident, claiming that his last memory was of his sword hitting Niall’s neck. When Owain told him how he had treated the man who had saved his life he looked ashamed. They sat in silence around the fire, each caught in his own thoughts. Elffin had been carefully moved and lay on a blanket close by, and by midnight he awoke with a weak groan. Ceredig sighed and asked his brother to prepare a stew.

"Are you hungry?" Owain asked concerned. "How do you feel?"

"I think I feel better than I deserve, but it isn’t good. I’m not particularly hungry, but we all need something warm to eat. You two", he looked at his brother and Pertacus, "are unhurt, but that doesn’t matter. You’ll have your work taking care of Elffin and me. Put on a stew, and get my pack here."

As Owain, against his better judgement, began to prepare the meal, Pertacus fetched Ceredig’s pack. Soon Ceredig found a small pouch and handed it to Owain.

"Here, put this in the stew and hope it works as I think."

"Where did you get this? It looks like the one that Guest had. What is it?"

"I got it from Guest. Remember how much better we felt after eating? I hope this is some kind of magical remedy. The gods know we need it. Neither Elffin nor I is in shape to travel, and we need to get back home." Ceredig sighed. "I wonder what lord Band will say?"

The stew indeed made them feel better, and they fell asleep soon after finishing it, not bothering to post guards. Undisturbed all night, they awoke to the now familiar smell of stew. Owain was the first to open his eyes and he found Guest sitting by the little fire, stirring a pot. Still wearing the hat that shadowed his eyes, his expression was unreadable. When Owain yawned and stretched, Guest silently handed him a bowl.

"Thanks." Owain said and nudged his brother. "Ceredig! Wake up."

With a groan Ceredig opened his eyes. "Ouch! It feels like I should be dead!" he complained. Then he saw Guest. "You! What are you doing here?"

"Making breakfast. You really made fool of yourself last night. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Well…" Ceredig began. Then hotly: "Is that any of your business?"

"I make things my business. But it was a shame that you used the powder so soon. You will come to need it later." Guest rose to his feet. "Good bye, then, and good luck."

As he turned to go Ceredig yelled after him: "Wait! Who are you? What do you want with us?"

Guest turned and stood facing the agitated Ceredig for a while. When he spoke, his voice was filled with power. "I am who I am, and I want what I want. By this sign you will know my name."

Then he scratched on the ground with his walking staff and left, vanishing from sight as soon as he reached the forest. Where he had stood they found four interconnected lines in a zigzag pattern. Owain carefully copied this sign onto a piece of wood to keep it safe.

*        *        *

It was a gloomy company that arrived to Bedford a week later. With both Ceredig and Elffin badly hurt it was obvious that they had met trouble, but they answered the worried questions by claiming that robbers had attacked them. The horses and equipment they had taken from Cerwd's escort proved that they had been victorious, as did the fact that they were still alive, but yet they seemed to be beaten. Nobody offered any details of the encounter with the robbers; I heard it for the first time a full month later when I was helping Ceredig to regain his strength by walking.

Lord Band was very displeased, and until his death he held on to this resentment. In his opinion Ceredig had betrayed him by letting Cerwd go, and Ceredig and his three friends were regularly given the worst assignments. Curiously enough, the full story was never by Cerwd, who also claimed to have met robbers.


Pilgrimage    The lost prophet

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Text (c) Örjan Westin 1999, art (c) Ann-Cathrine Loo 1999.