Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 10

We pestered Merlin about our visit to the strange temple and it's guardian as we left Camlann and rode towards Viroconium.

'Christianity is not as rooted in our beliefs as the priests and bishops would have you believe.' Merlin told us. 'In the countryside the old beliefs still live. Even in the Christian families, many of them will go to the old priestesses for healing potions. It's just that the damned Christians call them witches now instead of priestesses, and heretics of course. Dunk them for a witch and burn them as a heretic.' He said it with a wolfish amusement.

'You think they have magic then?' I asked, picking up on his words about potions.

'Don't be absurd.' Merlin snapped at me. 'I thought I had taught you better than that.' He continued to admonish me before explaining and I confess I felt disappointed that there were no priestesses of the old gods with magic. 'The Christians think all they have to do to heal the sick is pray over them. What nonsense! As if that would help anyone! But the priestesses of the old gods just known how to use herbs and how to make other remedies to heal ailments and injuries. I can make them myself. All you need to know is what the healing qualities of the different potions are and have a reasonable understanding of the body. Am I magic?' I said nothing, just exchanged a glance with Owain. I almost wanted to say yes. Merlin's intelligence and abilities almost seemed magic, and there were a great many people who believed he was a wizard.

'But how did she know who we were?' I persisted.

'I have failed as a teacher.' Merlin cried aloud. 'The whole country knows that you two have been exiled to court. Of course she knew who you were!'

I felt silly now, and another exchange of glances with Owain proved that he was feeling sheepish too. No doubt he was thinking of the expensive tribute we had left. We had argued about what we were supposed to leave. I had insisted she meant money, like an offering at a Christian shrine that would go towards the upkeep of the shrine. Owain had insisted in the old legends had required throwing something of value into the waters. Unable to agree, I had left some coins by the door and Owain had thrown his knife into the dark blue waters of the lake.

Why had we bothered?

Could I have bought more from her with those coins, I wondered, remembering the beauty of the girl.

But thoughts of the old in Avalon were quickly thrust aside as we came towards the new. Finally, as we came from behind a hill, there was Viroconium: the heart of post-Roman Britain.

As large as Londinium, it was the capital of the kingdom of Powys and thus country of Britain. It was tactically placed by the Romans, with a direct link to Londinium by the Watling Street road, and also the River Severn, the two most important lines of communication through Britain.

Near the river, it sprawled across open green fields; still essentially Roman, with tightly packed brick buildings inside the surrounding walls, mostly stone but in other places vertical wooden logs with sharpened tops. Tall towers were spread out along the walls, though some had collapsed and been rebuilt up with wood instead of stone, as the skill to build such structures had left Britain with the Romans. Along the top of the wall patrolled men in the Roman style armour, carrying oval shields.

I was excited to see such soldiers, the cream of British strength and led by the greatest man in Britain. Everything I saw on the approach to Viroconium filled me with such enthusiasm that I just grinned happily at the bored looking guards as we passed through the gates.

Then I was hit by the stink and nearly gagged.

It was the first time I had been to a city, and despite the fact Viroconium boasted baths and a well-built sewage system, the compact press of humanity stank, so that it felt I could smell each individual person. Rats ran in the street, dogs barked and cats seemed to be everywhere. Men by market stalls called to us to try their wares as we three well dressed, obviously rich men passed by them, and by the brothels the whores called to us to try them and my eyes widened in delight as the whores, spying two innocent youths pulled down their bodices or lifted their skirts to give us an eyeful of temptation. One particular girl, a blonde haired beauty of no more than seventeen, showed no extra flesh, but gave me a saucy wink that melted my heart, and when she called for me to come with her for no cost I nearly left but Merlin gave me a slap in the back of the head as I slowed my horse and Owain grinned at me. I blushed and made to follow them.