13

The tavern was comfortable, and a doctor was speedily found for Uwain. The latter’s wound, once properly dressed, was declared to be clean and already on the way to healing. The three of them stayed there for two days, until the doctor gave Uwain leave to travel, then they set out on the ride home to Craig Arian.

But when they came to the fork in the road where a steep track led westward into the valley of the Lesser Wye, Alexander, halting his horse, bade the other two farewell.

“For,” he said, “once embarked in this adventure, I must finish it. My mother will understand. It’s not done yet.” He hesitated. “There’s something she told me which I may not talk about, not yet, but you may give her this message; that I have set out to do what she would have me do, only a little sooner. Tell her that I’m riding north to seek out my cousin Drustan at Caer Mord, and I’ll send a message to her as soon as I can. It may be that I will ride this way with Drustan, when he goes back to Camelot, and I’ll see her then.”

Brand and Uwain tried to persuade him to go home first with them, and take the northward route after he had spoken again with the Princess Anna, but Alexander (who, once free of the leading-strings, had no intention of letting his mother tie them on again) refused to listen, repeating the message to his mother, and then turning his horse’s head to the north, and leaving them shaking their heads and staring after him.

So he rode north alone, with a light heart. He was seventeen, he had fought in two sharp fights and emerged scatheless from both. He had a good horse, a pouch of money, a new suit of clothing, his mother’s (possible) blessing and his father’s sword, and it was May, with the sun high in the heavens and the early morning dew sparkling on the grass. Small wonder that his spirits were high, and that he sang as he rode. He was young and strong and on his way to seek his fortune. And it was extra fortune that he could, in that year of Our Lord five hundred and twenty-three, seek it at the hand of Drustan, one of the honoured Companions of Arthur, High King of all Britain.

As for his first purpose, revenge for his father’s long-ago murder, and the justice he had been so eager, only a few days back, to seek on King March, he was no longer thinking about that. The day’s promise and the day’s adventure were what filled his mind. When the road he followed led downhill, and he could see, through the trees, the gleam of water which promised a ford, his thoughts and hopes immediately sprang to the tales he had heard, of fording-places guarded by outlaws lying in wait for travellers to rob. As his horse, scenting water, pricked its ears and quickened its pace, he loosened the sword in its scabbard and rode downhill as if to a happy meeting.