William H. Babcock - Cian of the Chariots - Chapter XXXVIII: How Sanawg was the Summoner of Cian lyrics

CHAPTER XXXVIII. HOW SANAWG WAS THE SUMMONER OF CIAN. Like the roaring of the wind against the ashen spears. – TALIESSIN. LLYWARCH of Argoed was idling in camp among the Saxon-demolished ruins of a fair town which once had been the capital of the Sistuntii, later to be known as Blackrode. One or two of the chief dwellings, in the Roman style, remained habitable; and the best had been restored and brightened for his use. All manner of pictured gayety was around him, glimpses of a sunny world came through every window; but the Prince of Argoed was dull enough, and more than dull, for Sanawg, his wife, had been left far away in Caerleon, Cian, his friend, was yet an outlaw of the mountains, and he could think of no good thing under heaven for an active, lonely man to do. Musing thus, he saw two mounted figures come over the open land, very wearily, yet as though in urgent haste; and others behind them, as men will join in the wake of vital news heard by the way. As they stopped at the outer guard, there was a great [Page 358] stir and murmur throughout the whole spread of the camp; and by the same instinct Llywarch also knew at once that he was summoned to life and hardship again. At that his soul leaped up through its shadows; but he held himself with courteous gravity, to hear their say. One was Arthur's messenger from Camelot. The other, from Caradoc's fortified sanctuary town of Amesbury, with more deadly urgency of need, had overtaken him as he rode and ran. For already the Saxon flood was between these neighboring holds; and out of it, like an island, rose the splendid hill-city of Arthur, which might not long abide that dashing. Yet no breach had been made as yet, nor any grievous loss undergone. The whole great cone of walls and houses bloomed out defiantly in many colored banners; wherefore, and remembering its other gorgeousness, men called this, long after, the battle of the painted hill. But all knew that no one beside a few men from Silchester could have re-enforced Arthur's garrison; and there was great consternation everywhere for his sake, as well as that of the notable men and women who were with him, and the bright, entrapped lady Guinevere, chosen to empire, whom Cerdic, if he won the town, would certainly take for his own. Llywarch put questions as to number and armament, then dismissed these messengers to their food [Page 359] and rest, and sent orders forth to make all ready for swift motion. Also he called a council to meet an hour later, and walked abroad, meditating. Then, more than another time, he felt the need of Sanawg, smiling at himself therefor as a commander of men. Yet he is but poor of spirit who finds no peculiar wisdom in the one woman he has chosen; and here there were problems of the human soul, more than all else, to consider. Had he not Arthur's direct command to leave men enough behind him for guarding against Cian? Yet of what avail to Camelot would be a moiety of his army? If only Cian, instead, were a**uredly with him as of old? Must there be, indeed, another and more dreadful Anderida? Then, like glint of hope, came the thought of Sanawg again; and, when he regained his room, another rider had come and gone, leaving a letter from her behind. There was much in it, much that was dear and thoughtful; but two words alone stood out insistently. They were, – "Trust Cian." With the sense of prevision made good upon him cogently, he wrote and sent this messsage. "Cian, old comrade, your Emperor, Arthur, is surrounded at Camelot. Come with all your men. I take the road to-day with mine." And when the council gathered, although there were some that demurred, the most thought it more than well; for no strength might safely be foregone in that great wrestle, and [Page 360] it was better to risk all at once, with the chance of mending all, than to falter into sure destruction. He found less pleasing matter in her words of Lancelot. "He looks reckless and fitful, the mien of one tormented until somewhat be ended and over. And, although he has a great array of men here, largely those who love him first of all, he meets every summoning of the Emperor with some slight plea, and stirs not a foot to his aid." Clearly, she too felt the danger, though she knew not the storm had broken. Cian was waiting, longing, doubting, sadly foreseeing war with his best friends, and ruin from those who should chiefly prize him, when Llywarch's brief message came. It could not have been more deftly moulded. Its utter unreasoning trust awoke consoling music in his heart. "Come, Cian!" and forthwith Cian came. His men were ready – for somewhat. Out among them went his word that all should take the road within the hour. In among the priests and leaders he went himself, with a rapt intensity of vehemence that hurried them all away. He made no secret of his aim; and those who had so lately been infuriated with Arthur willingly took it as their own. For they also had latent in them that wayward magnanimity, which is the best heritage of their race, and it awakened suddenly. Nor was there any love for the [Page 361] Saxon in their hearts. Moreover, the dourest of them was quick to see that Arthur saved by them must be Arthur their foe no longer. All hastened, but away before the first whirled Cian and a hundred chariots; and, though Llywarch went fast also with less distance before him, they were together again amid the gay streets and glittering roofs of Wroxetor by the base of the Dinrle Wrecon. At Gloucester, that rich city of Vortigern, Sanawg met them, with radiance of the Orient, and bantering and kisses for her kindly obedient lord. In less time than ever host fled so far, they were, with more than half their men, about Caer Caradoc.