Black Horses for the King

Spring is always a good time to traveclass="underline" the weather not too cold for comfortable riding nor the nights too chill to find sleep. Fields were greening with winter-sown crops and there was fresh grass for the horses to graze at night when they were picketed. The blossoming trees, pear and apple, were lovely, and the woods through which we traveled were bursting with buds, bluebells and daisies dotting the ground beneath us. Had I not been so anxious that nothing should go wrong on this journey, I would have enjoyed it even more.

I shall never forget my first sight of the hill on which Lord Artos had built his headquarters, Camelot. It rose out of the ground suddenly, as if a giant's fist had punched up just that much of the earth's surface to form it. The sides were, naturally, cleared of any vegetation, and we could see the course of the zigzag road that led up to the southwest gate, a massive affair of oak planks the width of a man's thigh. Sentries patrolled the top and the wooden palisade that surrounded it, for not all the walls were finished. Of course our approach was noticed and news of our arrival spread.

I was amazed to see horses tearing at breakneck speed down the approach road toward us, weaving through the obstacles of people, laden ponies, and ox-drawn carts. I wondered if they thought our troop was hostile, though everyone knew that the Saxons did not ride, nor had they horses of this quality.

And then-when they got closer-I saw it was Lord Artos himself who led the horsemen, his face broad with smiles, his bright hair golden in the sunlight.

"Galwyn! I wouldn't know you, lad, you've grown so. And able to ride my fine fellow, too."

If his words to me were welcoming, his eyes gleamed as they fell on the big stallion that Manob had assigned to the front of the troop.

He threw his gray's reins to one of his escort, swung lithely to the ground, and beamed up at me where I had halted his stallion. He put one hand proprietarily on Cor-nix's bridle.

"Rhodri's doing, my lord," I said, grinning from ear to ear. I immediately slipped my feet out of the foot plates and my right leg over the back of Cornix, dropping to the ground.

Well, I would never match Lord Artos in height or girth, but I didn't have to look up as far to meet his blue eyes now. And I had brought his fine stallions safely to him. With a bow of satisfaction at that accomplishment, I passed Cornix's reins to his rightful rider.

Lord Artos took them with a grateful smile, and before I could clasp my hands together to offer him a leg up, he had vaulted to Cornix's back.

"Take my horse, Galwyn! Manob, my greetings, and thanks for the safe conduct. Can you help exchange saddles here? Cei, Geraint, Gwalchmei," he said to those who had ridden down with him, "you shall have the pleasure of riding my black horses back to Camelot. I'm eager for your opinion."

The change of saddles was accomplished with alacrity and gave the Comes a chance to try out the war training Rhodri had given Cornix, making the stallion walk from side to side and turn on the forehand, then turn on the hindquarters, all of which Cornix did smoothly. I would remember to tell Rhodri how wide Lord Artos smiled in the testing. Then Lord Artos gave the signal, and as the gray spurted forward instantly with the others, I found myself still in the van as we rode-not quite so furiously-up the road to Camelot.

How they had made it safely down the road at the pace they had come was beyond my understanding. Despite occasional loads of sand and pebbles to improve the footing and provide traction for the heavy carts, the roadway was slippery with mud. We had to thread our way past men and supplies of all sorts. Two of the Libyans, and even some of the troopers' mounts, shied when going by noisy, squeaking, heavy-wheeled drays that were bringing stone, timber, slates, and bricks up the steep and zigzagging slope.

We rode through the great wooden gates. Here the outside wall was finished and thick as a lance was long, well able to withstand any assault the Saxons might try to make. It could probably withstand even the stones of a catapult.

After the main gates, we passed through the outer court and took the next hill at the gallop. At the top, Lord Artos reined to his right, passed an unfinished inner wall, and rode into a large court that was separated from the active construction by a high wall. This somewhat muffled the bustle and the other sounds of building. We of the van followed him, but glancing back over my shoulder, I saw the rest of the troop taking a different direction. Then I looked forward again and had to catch my breath at the magnificence of the several-storied building in front of us.

The Comes kneed Cornix up the wide shallow flight of stairs, the stallion's metal sandals clattering on the stone. Bending over ha his saddle, Lord Artos called out to those within.

"Come, you all, and see how well we shall be mounted to drive Aelle and his sons from Britain!"

Men and women swarmed out of the edifice, startling Cornix so that he reared, pivoted on his hind legs, and came down so hard on his forehand that I was certain even as fine a rider as the Comes would be dislodged. But Lord Artos only laughed, placing such a firm hand on Cornix's neck that the animal came to a full and complete halt, snorting but obedient.