Read Online Warriors of Camlann by N. M. Browne - Free Book Online

that he was their honoured guest, but he was unarmed and the soldiers weren’t, so Dan drew his own conclusions. They had let him sleep in a guarded room with Braveheart but Taliesin had not come to visit as Dan had hoped. Maybe Medraut had prevented him. Dan was aware that for some reason the bulky soldier had taken a determined dislike to him. He did not know why.
    Dan had slept well, exhaustion overriding all other considerations. He had tried to think about the mystery of Taliesin’s presence, tried to think about what might have happened to Ursula, but his body had its own ideas and oblivion had overcome him. He had breakfasted on oatcakes drizzled with honey and ale of the kind that Macsen’s men had drunk, though not so finely brewed. It was weak enough not to worry him. His body, somany months among the Combrogi, was used to it.
    It was not long after dawn, and a cool morning. As Dan was marched through the straight streets of the Roman city, Braveheart by his side, his curiosity almost overrode his nerves. What he saw was not quite what he had expected of Camulodunum. They passed a vast temple decorated with brightly painted statues, but the paint had peeled to reveal the white marble beneath. Someone had placed a large rustic cross at the entrance and grass grew between the stone slabs that formed the steps. There were weeds too in the roads and many of the stone houses and shops were tumbled down or ruined. Some had been roughly mended with timber or straw with scant regard given to their appearance. There were some soldiers dressed in the Roman style but many more wore simple homespun tunics and cloaks, sporting just a helmet, a belt or a sword that bore the marks of Roman origin. The whole population had turned out to watch the fight and few of the townspeople wore Roman dress; the checks and plaids of the Combrogi were more in evidence, though their colours were muddier and less vibrant than those that Macsen’s men had worn. There was little evident display of wealth and Dan was disappointed. He had always wondered what a Roman city looked like. This one was clearly past its best.
    Dan was led into the amphitheatre, a vast arena, surroundedby tiers of ruined benches. Arturus’s men had formed a circle around the perimeter to make a smaller arena, and to make sure he could not escape, they stood with swords drawn. Crowds of people had followed them and were arranging themselves on the broken benches. Dan began to sweat in spite of the coolness of the morning. He wished he had his sword, Bright Killer. He wished he were still the Bear Sark. He wished he still possessed his capacity for madness. He looked out for Taliesin’s familiar form but saw no one he recognised except for Bedewyr, who rushed towards him.
    â€˜Gawain—I mean, Dan!’
    â€˜You can call me Gawain if you want to, Bedewyr. I’m not sure I know who I am anymore.’
    The oddness of that reply seemed to confuse Bedewyr further. ‘Well, I heard you are to fight Arturus’s champion, and I thought you might need me, as you didn’t know anyone else – I mean, besides the merlin-man.’
    â€˜Who?’
    Bedewyr made some rapid sign against the evil eye. ‘I mean, beside the Druid you call Taliesin.’
    â€˜Thank you. I—’
    â€˜You will need a second to hold your cloak and to be sure that the fight is fair.’
    â€˜Thank you, Bedewyr, I didn’t know that. Would you also take care of Braveheart for me and see that he is looked after if—’
    â€˜Medraut won’t beat you.’
    â€˜Medraut?’
    â€˜He’s got a reputation, but he must be thirty years old! You would make a lot of people very happy if you finished him off.’
    â€˜Finished him off? Is this a fight to the death?’
    â€˜Oh yes. Arturus says it’s like the old games and a bit of old-fashioned gladiatorial killing is good for the men – gets their blood up.