Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 8

Owain and I were banished from our home, gone before the end of the day.

Enniaun had raced ahead, with the corpse of his son across a litter made from our horses, and the rest of the troop was ordered to follow him. I think in his fury he was hoping that bandits or Hibernian fugitives would murder these two rich, beardless boys and thus release him from having to having to deal with us. However, Enniaun had done too good a job scouring the country of thieves and we had done too good a job dealing with the Hibernian raiders; besides we were big lads, wearing chainmail and long bladed swords, and oval shaped shields slung over our backs. No one was really going to challenge us.

We talked little as we walked, and we walked slowly, neither of us in a hurry to face whatever Enniaun had in store for us. 'I thought we were in for a beating for sure.' I had tried to make conversation at the beginning.

'I would rather that he had." Owain said. "Maybe he would knock some of the guilt that I feel out of me.'

I was amazed that he felt guilty. Mordred had joined the troop of soldiers rushing from the villa, and taunted us into joining him, and Malaine had not had the courage to send us back, nor the sense to stop Mordred in his wild charge at the Hibernian instead of forming a shield wall.

We did discuss for a while what his father would have in store for us, and as our guesses became more imaginative in their severity, some of which we found amusing but it was always hanging over us, and not once did Owain mention his father's words to him, and I didn't bring it up. Eventually we fell into silence.

Darkness held a tight grip over the land we walked, though we walked past farmsteads with the soft, flickering firelight coming from the edge of the doorways and windows. Dogs barked at us as we walked by some of these buildings, and beside the side of the road we spied some hare and I ventured that perhaps we should take the bows out at night some time, but Owain merely grunted.

Above us the night grew darker as clouds gathered, blocking out the moonlight like a curtain hiding the firelight from the outside world. We struggled to see the ground in front of us, and more than once we stumbled on the uncertain footing, causing our main amusement as one of us would crash to the ground and come up cursing.

When we reached the villa, we found it alive with a mixture of activity and emotion. Everyone seemed to speak of grief for their lord's heir, though very few seemed to mean it for Mordred had never been loved by anyone but his father. They were also busy packing saddlebags.

'Where are you riding?' I heard Owain ask, and saw that he had spied Merlin, and that our teacher was dressed in riding clothes. He was wrapped up warm to show he would be leaving in the chill of darkness. I felt something grip my stomach as I heard a horse neigh and recognised it as my own.

'I am to travel to Viroconium.' Merlin informed us. 'Or rather, the pair of you are to travel to Viroconium and I am to accompany you.'

We stared at him blankly, unsure of what to say or even to think. 'Why?' I blurted, without putting much thought into it.

Owain had though. 'It's because my father hates me.' He stated flatly, his gaze fixedly level as he refused to let us see him cast his eyes to the floor.

Merlin did not even deny it. 'He grieves for his son.' He told us. 'You two unfortunately serve as a reminder of his grief.'

'But why tonight?' I persisted, still slow in my understanding. This time I was ignored though.

We had no chance to even gather any of our things, but were simply told to mount up, and mount up we did. Merlin did not look back, in fact he looked positively cheerful. Owain too fixed his gaze ahead, refusing to acknowledge anyone around him. Me however, I looked around at the comforting warmth of the fires, and the comforting gaze of familiar faces. I saw none. Everyone kept their eyes downcast and they did not look at us.