Free The Last Enchantment by Mary Stewart

I rose, and plunged my head in water, and washed the sight away.

5

    When we reached Caerleon at noon next day, a bright October sun was drying the ground, and frost lay indigo-blue in the lee of walls and buildings. The alders along the river bank, their black boughs hung with yellow coins of leaves, looked bright and still, like stitchery against the background of pale sky. Dead leaves, still rimmed with frost, crunched and rustled under our horses' hoofs. The smells of new bread and roasting meat wound through the air from the camp kitchens, and brought sharply to mind my visit here with Tremorinus, the master engineer who had rebuilt the camp for Ambrosius, and included in his plans the finest kitchens in the country.
    I said as much to my companion — it was Caius Valerius, my friend of old — and he grunted appreciatively.
    "Let us hope the King takes due time for a meal before he starts his inspection."
    "I think we can trust him for that."
    "Oh, aye, he's a growing boy." It was said with a sort of indulgent pride, with no faintest hint of patronage. From Valerius it came well; he was a veteran who had fought with Ambrosius at Kaerconan and since then with Uther; he was also one of the captains who had been with Arthur at the battle on the River Glein. If men of this stamp could accept the youthful King with respect, and trust him for leadership, then my task was indeed done. The thought came unmixed with any sense of loss or declining, but with a calm relief that was new to me. I thought: I am growing old.
    I became conscious that Valerius had asked me something. "I'm sorry. I was thinking. You said?"
    "I asked if you were going to stay here till the crowning?"
    "I think not. He may need me here for a while, if he's set on rebuilding. I'm hoping I shall have leave to go after Christmas, but I'll come back for the crowning."
    "If the Saxons give us leave to hold it."
    "As you say. To leave it till Pentecost would seem to be a little risky, but it's the bishops' choice, and the King would be wiser not to gainsay them."
    Valerius grunted. "Maybe if they put their minds to it and do some serious praying, God will hold the spring offensive back for them. Pentecost, eh? Do you suppose they're hoping for fire from heaven again...theirs, this time, perhaps?" He eyed me sideways. "What do you say?"
    As it happened, I knew the legend to which he referred. Since the coming of the white fire into the Perilous Chapel, the Christians had been wont to refer to their own story, that once, at Pentecost, fire had fallen from heaven onto their god's chosen servants. I saw no reason to quarrel with such an interpretation of what had happened at the Chapel: it was necessary that the Christians, with their growing power, should accept Arthur as their God-appointed leader. Besides, for all I knew, they were right.
    Valerius was still waiting for me to answer. I smiled. "Only that if they know from whose hand the fire falls, they know more than I do."
    "Oh, aye, that's likely." His tone was faintly derisive. Valerius had been on garrison duty in Luguvallium on the night when Arthur lifted the sword from the fire in the Perilous Chapel, but, like everyone else, he had heard the tale. And, like everyone else, he shied away from what had happened there. "So you're leaving us after Christmas? Are we to know where for?"
    "I'm going home to Maridunum. It's five — no, six years since I was there. Too long. I'd like to see that all is well."
    "Then see that you do get back for the crowning. There will be great doings here at Pentecost. It would be a pity to miss them."
    By then, I thought, she would be near her time. I said aloud: "Oh, yes. With or without the Saxons, we shall have great doings at Pentecost."
    Then we spoke of other things until our quarters were reached, and we were bidden to join the King and his officers for meat.
    Caerleon, the oldRomanCity of the Legions, had been rebuilt by Ambrosius, and since then kept garrisoned and in