Twentieth Chapter: Fortuituous Timing (501 AD)

As it transpired, the alliance of Salisbury, Silchester, Oxford and Camelot chose the perfect time to invade Wessex, for even as their forces entered King Cerdic’s realm the south coast of Wessex was assaulted by King Port, a Saxon corsair who swiftly established an encampment named Portsmouth and whose attempts at expansion diverted the attention of most of Cerdic’s forces.

Defending the northern portion of Wessex was a skeleton force led by Prince Cymric, Cerdic’s heir. The Britons overran this force rapidly, and the combination of Cymric’s strategic blunders and Pubert’s mastery of strategy left the Saxon Prince vulnerable. Sir Loholt, sent to discharge his debt of honour, sacrificed himself (slaying Cymric’s three bodyguards in the process) to give Sir Pubert and Sir Edward a clear run at Cymric; despite his fierce loyalty to his father and his foreign gods, Cymric, son of Cerdic and grandson of Vortigern, was no match and was slain by Pubert.

In the wake of the battle an emissary came from Cerdic under a flag of truce. So desperate was Cerdic to avoid being caught between the hammer and the anvil of the Britons on one hand and Port on the other, he actually offered to cede the lands the alliance had already reconquered and give the members of the alliance tribute if they would aid him against Port. Instead, the Britons used the plunder they had taken from the Saxons to engage the Frankish fleet that had recently escorted the new Archbishop of Canterbury across the channel, and used the fleet to invade the Isle of Wight. By this means they prevented Cerdic from cutting off Port’s lines of resupply – and gave themselves the means to cut off Port when they wanted to.

Making contact with Port, they drew up plans to crush Wessex in the following year.

Nineteenth Chapter: Blood Calls For Blood (500 AD)

The Ladies of the Lake and the Order of the Pomegranate celebrated the Eleusinian Mysteries together in honour of the ancient bonds between the two organisations. Cora participated, as did Morgan – who went into a trance and proclaimed a strange prophecy.

It is the Autumn of the Gods and the Winter of Christ approaches. I stand in darkness and pour out my cauldron, I unleash the horses with thorn bridles and lightning hooves. I forge the Fire of Hell into the Thaw of Elysium and shade my faithful from the glare of the burning bush.

When the Ladies of the Lake are ash on the wind, I will rule in Avalon, and when Britain calls for Avalon I will send a dead man in answer. There is one here that already doomed by her mercy, and from that mercy will come a blow that consumes Britain in Christ’s name. Only a road watered in the blood of knights will appease Christ, but Britons will say that Christ is kind and the Morrigan is cruel.

Who will test the cuckoo’s brood? An egg on the ocean on May Day! Who is Merlin when he wears a hat and winks? Another braggart nailed to a tree!

Five years of exile. Fifteen years of darkness. Fifty-five years of shining hypocrisy! Five hundred years of forgetting! An eternity of blasphemy, gossip, and lies!

From the Isle of Apples you have cast well. But who will put these lands in order?

Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Σίβυλλα τί θέλεις; respondebat illa: ἀποθανεῖν θέλω.

(“For I indeed once saw with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in her jar, and when the boys asked her, ‘Sibyl, what do you want?’ she answered ‘I want to die’.”)

This seems to be an oracular proclamation on behalf of the Morrigan, one of the more sinister Celtic goddesses, though some of it applies equally to Morgan herself – the inclusion of subtle hints at an Odin-Merlin connection suggesting once again that the most powerful enchanters of the Chronicle are in fact disguised versions of pagan gods. Despite the ambiguity as to whether Morgan is the Morrigan or merely speaks for her, the passage is known as the Morrigan Oracle to students of the Salisbury Chronicle and is full of hints of things to come, most of which are obvious to those of us who know the story but are obscure now. (T.S. Eliot is believed to have lifted the Satyricon quote from here when trawling the Chronicle for Grail lore to use in The Wasteland.)

Troubled by these strange tidings, Sir Roland and Sir Edward head to Sarum to meet with Sir Pubert and advise Countess Ellen. The Countess was troubled by the continued failure of Duke Ulfius to produce Sir Loholt for trial in matter of the death of Sir Edward’s sister, and had begun to suspect chicanery on his part. She was concerned that to press further would damage relations between Silchester and Salisbury, but also did not wish to ignore the situation. The knights decided to disguise themselves as hedge knights and travel to Loholt’s manor to investigate. Luckily, it was quite close to the border with Oxford county, and most of Duke Ulfius’ forces were more concerned with watching for Saxon invasions from the East than British knights coming from the Northwest, and they arrived at the manor without incident.

Challenged by the guards, they claimed to be heading East to seek opportunities for battle against the Saxons. As it happened, this was an auspicious time for such a cover story, for the Angles had invaded Caercolun and claimed it as Anglia. The gate guard sent word to the “Custodian”, who was apparently ruling here in Loholt’s stead, and in response a squire was sent to lead them to the Eastern frontier of the Duchy and help them gain service there. It was late enough in the day to propose staying the night, so the party stayed at the village inn,  where they heard enough wry references to the Custodian to believe that there may be something worth investigating there.

Relying on Pubert’s silver tongue to gain them a rare direct audience with the Custodian, they found him a man of knightly bearing but worn down from years spent confined indoors. He was, of course, Sir Loholt himself, ordered to seclude himself until needed in battle by Duke Ulfius. It was noted that he did not wear a coat of arms – expected of a steward appointed to rule in a manor lord’s absence, but forbidden because Ulfius had ordered Loholt to wear no identifying marks. Confronted, Loholt confessed to having killed Edward’s sister during a fit of unbidden rage of the sort he was cursed with; Sir Edward, for his part, did not want to simply execute Loholt when he could be used against the Saxons. They went to Duke Ulfius, who was suitably chastened; he offered to give Loholt’s manor to Edward’s son Marick when he came of age, and also offered to put his army at the knights’ command. For the knights of Salisbury had tired of the demands for tribute, and planned a great attack on Wessex the next year.

That winter, Ygraine and Morgan were kidnapped by Saxon infiltrators, but they did not get far. According to Morgan they had had “an accident” – an accident that had eviscerated the Saxons and left one nailed to a tree with an eye gouged out. Ygraine declared that she was going to wait no longer but take Morgan to be married to the King of Gorre, for in truth she feared to be near her now…

Eighteenth Chapter: The Generosity of Sauvage (499 AD)

The knights were conducted to chambers set aside for them to prepare for their meeting with King Sauvage, which they were told would happen at a feast that evening. As Lord Jacques prayed for the company’s eventual delivery from Sauvage, Sir Pubert was spirited away by Lady Blanche de Blanche, who had been intrigued by his claims not to be a good man, but she could find no way to tempt him and eventually had to allow him to depart from her boudoir to the feast.

At the feast King Sauvage proved to be a wizened, diminutive figure, with a teeth full of canines, chomping down chicken legs bones and all. He first attended to Sir Edward and thanked him for looking after Conkers, and presented him with Fiona, none the worse for wear save she seemed to be ten years old when she was only born three years ago. Playing a tune on a flute, Sauvage summoned Conkers, who burst through a window high in the feasting hall and crashed down behind Sauvage’s throne. Sauvage seemed to approve of the lessons Conkers had learned being kept isolated in a cage, and mentioned that he had taught Fiona fairy lore and secret healing arts. He and his court also found it most amusing that Edward and Miranda had borne twins…

Next he spoke with Lord Jacques and claimed that Jacques’ meagre cage on his last visit to Sauvage had been a demonstration of hospitality as learned by Conkers under Sir Edward’s care – a nonsensical statement given the chronology, which he dismissed as a mere consequence of time flowing strangely in mortal realms. Lord Jacques struggled to get King Sauvage to acknowledge he had done any wrong, but realised (thanks to a warning from his crucifix) that to listen too long to Sauvage’s twisted logic would lead to spiritual peril and broke off the debate. Sauvage declared that he found Christians boring, and so would release the communities he had trapped in Sauvage but would keep the ways into Sauvage open for those who sought its mysteries.

Sir Pubert arrived at this stage. King Sauvage, having little business directly with him, paid him little heed but advised him to fall in love to add spice to his existence in the time he had left to him.

Sir Roland answered Sauvage’s suggestion that he was more alive than mere mortals with the riposte that Sauvage’s existence was meaningless. Satisfied that he was dealing with a true initiate of the Eleusinian Mysteries, he summoned his imprisoned “Amazons” – or, as they described themselves, members of the Order of the Pomegranate, an ancient knightly order devoted to protecting the Mysteries. Given legal recognition by Brutus the Trojan – a full account of whose laws they possessed – the Order had subsequently been bloodily suppressed by the Romans and suffered a massive schism when many converted to Christianity to become guardians of the Holy Grail.

The law of Brutus allowed women who joined the Order to set aside all the rights and duties of ladies to taken on those of knights (including marrying ladies, but not men, because knights could not marry men), or whatever offices of nobility the High King conferred on them. The lady knights also possessed an oracular proclamation about a leader who would rise to resurrect the Order when its old chain of command was shattered – a woman accepted as a knight by her peers, who would ride in battle against worshippers of Thor and Odin, and who would bear children with the Cornucopia of Persephone. The lady knights were trapped in Sauvage (and had been for 200 years) because King Sauvage would only hand them over to the leader of the Order… a leader that Sir Roland was qualified to be.

Agonising over whether to take up this role knowing it would put Cora, Ygraine and the kids at risk, or to instead let her daughter do it in 10 years time, Roland eventually agreed to be the Order’s leader, revealing herself to be a woman to her fellow knights. They were shocked and surprised, but a lady knight amongst them wasn’t the strangest thing they’d seen – hell, with King Sauvage running around under the tables squabbling with his dogs for table scraps, it wasn’t even the strangest thing in the room.

The party was transported by King Sauvage to the edge of his realm, where they found the people of County Tribuit celebrating their freedom. Pertoines was given the Law of Brutus to translate and disseminate, and the land adapted to the Order’s return. In distant parts of the land Sir Roland’s coming out was mostly ignored – people expected folk from unfamiliar parts to behave in a peculiar way, and in the midst of the Anarchy most had far closer problems to deal with. Close to home there was controversy, but less than expected – it didn’t hurt that the Order didn’t so much challenge the natural order between ladies and gentlemen so much as provide an outlet for women who were more gentlemanly than ladylike. Pagans supported the idea of a strong force in the land, and the priesthood at Stonehenge declared their support for the Order. British Christian institutions were not thrilled with the pagan character of the Order, but noted that the social order as set out by Brutus and as still lived today would be wrecked if everything with pagan associations were stripped from the Law of Brutus. Catholic lay preachers spoke against the Order and declared that any woman who joined it or married a member was handing her dowry to Satan himself – but the Catholic hierarchy was more cautious, and theologically the Pope (in writing to Lord Jacques) was more concerned with the lack of a Catholic order of knights to counterbalance this pagan influence than the apparent challenge to God’s plan for men and women. (Perhaps he reasoned that pagans couldn’t be expected to do anything else… though some allusions in the text suggest that the Pope of this era is supposed to be the apocryphal Pope Joan, whose reasons for not looking too unkindly on the gender issue would be obvious…)