Sagramor growled at me to ignore the taunts, but Valerin’s defiance was unsettling our men whose souls were already chilled by the Druids’ curses. I waited for Valerin to call Guinevere a whore one more time and when he did I hurled my spear at him. It was a clumsy throw, made awkward by the scale armour’s constriction, and the spear tumbled past him to splash into the river. “A whore,” he shouted and ran at me with his war spear levelled as I scraped Hywelbane out of her scabbard. I stepped towards him and had time to take just two paces before he thrust the spear at me with a great shout of rage.
I dropped to one knee and raised the polished shield at an angle so that the spear-point was deflected over my head. I could see Valerin’s feet and hear his roar of rage as I stabbed Hywelbane under my shield’s edge. I lunged upwards with the blade, feeling it strike just before his charging body struck my shield and drove me down to the ground. He was screaming instead of roaring now, for that sword thrust beneath the shield was a wicked cut that came up from the ground to pierce a man’s bowels and I knew Hywelbane had plunged deep into Valerin, for I could feel his body’s weight pulling the sword blade down as he collapsed on to the shield. I heaved up with all my strength to throw him off the shield and gave a grunt as I jerked the sword back from his flesh’s grip. Blood spilt foul beside his spear that had fallen to the ground where he now lay bleeding and twitching in awful pain. Even so he tried to draw his sword as I clambered to my feet and put my boot on to his chest. His face was going yellow, he shuddered and his eyes were already clouding in death. “Guinevere is a lady,” I told him, ‘and your soul is mine if you deny it.”
“She’s a whore,” he somehow managed to say between clenched teeth, then he choked and shook his head feebly. “The bull guards me,” he managed to add, and I knew he was of Mithras and so I thrust Hywelbane hard down. The blade met the resistance of his throat, then swiftly cut to end his life. Blood fountained up the blade, and I do not think Valerin ever knew it was not Arthur who sent his soul to the bridge of swords in Cruachan’s Cave.
Our men cheered. Their spirits, so abraded by the Druids and chilled by Valerin’s foul insults, were instantly restored for we had drawn the first blood. I walked to the river’s edge where I danced a victor’s steps as I showed the dispirited enemy Hywelbane’s bloodstained blade. Gorfyddyd, Cuneglas and Gundleus, their champion defeated, turned their horses away and my men taunted them as cowards and weaklings.
Sagramor nodded as I returned to the shield-wall. The nod was evidently his way of offering praise for a well-fought fight. “What do you want done with him?” He gestured to Valerin’s fallen body.
I had Issa strip the corpse of its jewellery, then two other men heaved it into the river and I prayed that the spirits of the water would carry my brother of Mithras to his reward. Issa brought me Valerin’s weapons, his golden torque, two brooches and a ring. “Yours, Lord,” he said, offering me the plunder. He had also retrieved my spear from the river.
I took the spear and Valerin’s weapons, but nothing else. “The gold is yours, Issa,” I said, remembering how he had tried to give me his own torque when we had returned from Ynys Trebes.
“Not this, Lord,” he said, and he showed me Valerin’s ring. It was a piece of heavy gold, beautifully made and embossed with the figure of a stag running beneath a crescent moon. It was Guinevere’s badge, and at the back of the ring, crudely but deeply cut into the thick gold, was a cross. It was a lover’s ring and Issa, I thought, had been clever to spot it.
I took the ring and thought of Valerin wearing it through all the hurt years. Or maybe, I dared to hope, he had tried to revenge his pain on her reputation by cutting a false cross into the ring so that men would think he had been her lover. “Arthur must never know,” I warned Issa and then I hurled the heavy ring into the river.