Brother Cadfael 18: The Summer of the Danes

of the day, started him awake even before the murmur of voices rose into loud orders, and the men of the household began to gather in the ward, prompt but drowsy from the rushes of the hall and the many lodgings of the maenol. Then what was left of the night's repose was shattered brazenly by the blasting of a horn, and Cadfael rolled from his brychan on to his feet, wide-awake and braced for action.
    "What's afoot?"
    "Someone rode in. In a hurry! Only one horseman!"
    "They would not rouse the court for a little thing," said Cadfael, clawing on his sandals and making for the door. The horn blared again, echoes ricocheting between the buildings of the prince's llys, and blunting their sharp edges against walls. In the open ward the young men came thronging in arms to the call, and the hum of many voices, still pitched low in awe of the night, swelled into a wordless, muted bellowing like a stormy tide flowing. From every open doorway a thread of light from hastily kindled lamps and candles spilled into the dark, conjuring here and there a recognisable face out of the crowd. A jaded horse, hard-ridden, was being led with drooping head towards the stables, and his rider, heedless of the many hands that reached to arrest him and the many voices that questioned, was thrusting a way through the press towards the great hall. He had barely reached the foot of the steps when the door above him opened, and Owain in his furred bed-gown came out, large and dark against the light from within, the squire who had run to arouse him with news of the coming close at his shoulder.
    "Here am I," said the prince, loud and clear and wide awake. "Who's come wanting me?" As he moved forward to the edge of the steps the light from within fell upon the messenger's face, and Owain knew him. "You, is it, Goronwy? From Bangor? What's your news?"
    The messenger scarcely took time to bend his knee. He was known and trusted, and ceremony was waste of precious moments. "My lord, early this evening one came with word from Carnarvon, and I have brought that word here to you as fast as horse can go. About Vespers they sighted ships westward off Abermenai, a great fleet in war order. The seamen say they are Danish ships from the kingdom of Dublin, come to raid Gwynedd and force your hand. And that Cadwaladr, your brother, is with them! He has brought them over to avenge and restore him, in your despite. The fealty he could not keep for love he has bought with promised gold."
    Chapter Five
    Within Owain's writ the invasion of disorder might bring about momentary consternation, but could not hope to create disorder in its turn. His mind was too quick and resolute ever to entertain chaos. Before the muted roar of anger and resentment had circled the ward the captain of the prince's guard was at his elbow, awaiting his orders. They understood each other too well to need many words.
    This report is certain?" Owain asked.
    "Certain, my lord. The messenger I had it from saw them himself from the dunes. Too distant then to be sure how many ships, but no question whence they come, and small doubt why. It was known he had fled to them. Why come back in such force but for a reckoning?"
    "He shall have one," said Owain composedly. "How long before they come to land?"
    "My lord, before morning surely. They were under sail, and the wind is steady from the west."
    For the length of a deep breath Owain considered. Perhaps a quarter of the horses in his stables had been ridden far, though not hard, the previous day, and as many of his armed men had made that journey, and sat merry in hall late into the night. And the ride that faced them now would be urgent and fast.
    "Short time," he said, musing, "to raise even the half of Gwynedd, but we'll make sure of reserves, and collect every man available between here and Carnarvon as we go. Six couriers I want, one to go before us now, the others to carry my summons through the rest of Arlechwedd and Arfon. Call them to Carnarvon. We may not need them, but no harm in making certain." His clerks accepted the expected word, and vanished with commendable calm to prepare the sealed writs the couriers would bear to the chieftains of two cantrefs before the night was over. "Now, every man who bears arms," said Owain, raising his voice to carry to the containing walls and echo back from them, "get to your beds and take what rest you can. We muster at first light."
    Cadfael, listening on the edge of the crowd, approved. Let the