The church was indeed completed by Christmas and the numbers of people who attended that particular mass was something to be marvelled at. I wondered where they had all come from, but it seemed that when a King declared an official religion, people were quick to join. Most of them were from Monmouth so perhaps they wished to enjoy the new building in town, I certainly enjoyed being in the new church, taking in the architecture.

Soon I had the chance to assist Father with the letters that came in, at first I had wondered if there would really be all that many, seeing as there hadn’t been any before. But things had changed quite rapidly and soon we were receiving letters from bishops not just from Caerleon, but ones from Merica and even a few from Rome itself!

As King Caerleon had indicated, a few weeks before Easter a missive arrived, the church, or as they had begun to call it, the Cathedral, in the capital had been completed and the emissary from Rome was on his way to conduct the ceremony that would mark Father’s and the others official rising to the rank of Bishop.

The ceremony would take place on Easter itself, which explained why Monmouth still needed a deacon, because otherwise there wouldn’t have been anyone there to conduct that mass. The new deacon seemed quite pleased when he was told that he’d be conducting services in Monmouth’s church, shyness certainly wasn’t a problem for him!

A few days before Easter, Mother, Father and I headed off to the capital once more, Mother had been very much looking forward to the trip, having not being in many, many years. As she told me, the reputation of the market there had grown in great proportions and that was something she wanted to see.

There were ten other bishops to be officially raised, so Mother, Father and I as well as them and their families were all house in a large house near the Cathedral as guests of the Great Bishop of Caerloen.

While Mother and I went to the market, Father remained with the other bishops and found out about how the ceremony would unfold. On our return, we found a very nervous Father, who told us that in order to make everything official he would have to, in full view of everyone, read and sign a document agreeing to his new position.

Father was so nervous about this that he actually went to see old Theolius who assured him that it would not be a difficult or long document to read and the neatness, or lack thereof of his signature would not have any effect on whether the bishopric was legally and religiously binding. For all his sterness and dourness, Theolius actually helped, the day before the ceremony he coached Father through the document and Father feverishly practiced his signature until it looked quite important. He could not do anything more to prepare.

The day of the ceremony saw us in the Cathedral, which was the grandest building I had ever been in, excepting the Main Hall of King Caerleon, but I had never been in the Main Hall during a feast or any sort of celebration, so the Cathedral quickly became even grander when the ceremony began. A choir dressed in red robes began to sing, their voices soaring in the vaulted space, rising to a crescendo and as it did the eleven new bishops led by the special emissary processed down the aisle, dressed in heavy robes of their own. Bright yellow robes set off by the white cloths they wore upon their heads. I looked carefully for Father and when I spotted him, I tugged on Mother’s sleeve to point him out and we gave him encouraging smiles, which I’m sure he saw, because he seemed to straighten his shoulders and move a little easier as he passed us.

Once all of the new bishops arrived at the front of the Cathedral the ceremony began, I confess that I didn’t really pay that much attention to the events because it was really quite long and I found my thoughts drifting. At one point my eyes met the Prince’s, who had, in the short time since I’d last seen him, seemed to have grown much taller, he certainly looked more brutish. Unfortunately, he also spotted me and scowled even more than he was, however seeing as he was seated beside the King and in the middle of a ceremony besides there wasn’t much he could do. All the same I hoped that once the Bishops were anointed the royal family would leave so I didn’t need to worry about having to avoid him.

Around that point, Mother poked me in the arm and gestured for me to pay attention to what was happening, namely that Father was being anointed. He knelt on a cushion before the special emissary who presented him with the scroll. Mother and I clutched each others hands as Father unrolled it and with great care read it before turning and laying it on a small table beside the cushion in order to sign it.

Once that was done he turned back to the emissary who anointed his brow and then with great ceremony held a special cap, known as a mitre, upon his head. The emissary placed the mitre on Father's head and announced in a booming voice. “I present Galfridus, Bishop of Monmouth.”

When the rest of the bishops were anointed the bells of the Cathedral pealed out, and they went to the great cross behind the altar bowing to kiss it and then turning to process out down the aisle. As Father passed he caught our eye and smiled, Mother and I returned the gesture.

The King, Queen and Prince were the next to leave, all of us having to bow as they passed by.

It took the rest of us a lot quite a bit longer to get out of the Cathedral since it seemed the whole of the city had showed up for the ceremony and the leaving did not happen in an orderly fashion. It was more like a crush, but eventually Mother and I managed to escape and find Father.

“We’ve been invited to a feast by the King,” he greeted us.

Mother was immediately worried about this and mentiond how she had nothing proper to wear. I meanwhile as more worried about the possibility of running into the Prince, although I supposed I’d be safe enough in a hall full of people, but you never knew.

At Mother’s insistence, she and I went to the markets to find some clothes to wear for the feast, Mother grumbled about the fact that Father was all set with his robes and mitre.

“You think the King could have warned us before we came, I would have packed something!”

In the end I don’t think Mother minded so much because she loved haggling, and the market gave her the opportunity to do just that. She was beaming when we returned to our lodgings with a red dress with yellow embroidery on it. For me she had a light evening jacket of the same sort of design and as she told Father she had got both for a bargain.

I’m sure many boys would have cringed at the idea of attending a feast in a piece of clothing that matched what their Mother was wearing, but I didn’t care much at all. I was more interested in finding out what a royal feast would be like, it would certainly have the best food, there might even be entertainment! So I put on the light jacket without complaint and walked with Mother and Father to the castle as the sun was setting. We were joined by other bishops and their families, and though not every bishop had a family we still made quite a crowd.

The guards at the gates formed a line of honour for us as we walked through and in the courtyard the King waited.

“I welcome you all, the new bishops of Caerleon to my castle tonight to feast,” he began, holding his arms out to welcome us. “I hope you will all enjoy yourselves tonight and return to your parishes with full bellies and good memories. Our cooks have assembled some of the rarest foods for tonight and I am also pleased to announce we have some very special entertainment for you all.”

With that there was the sound of trumpets, which I wasn’t expecting and made me jump a little, Mother chuckled and patted me on the shoulder and we all moved forward into the castle to the Feasting Hall.

I’d never been inside the Feasting Hall, it proved to be absolutely incredible, there seemed to be a thousand candles inside, their pinprick flames casting a warm glow over the entire Hall. There were eight tables not including the Royal one, arranged within the room in a ‘C’ shape, so that there was a wide area in the middle for the entertainers when they came.
Before that could happen though, there was the food to enjoy! As promised it was the likes of which, neither Mother, Father nor I had ever seen and there was so much of it, the tables practically groaned under the weight of it all! The smells were utterly delicious, enough to make ones mouth water.

Such being the case, I thought it somewhat cruel that we were made to wait so long before being able to taste it! Before we could eat speeches were made, first another one by the King and then the special emissary got to his feet to deliver a message from the Pope himself. I supposed that was a very big honour indeed, but the Pope could certainly talk. I’d never heard such a long prayer before! Finally though, the emissary came to the end of it we all chorused ‘amen’, crossed ourselves and were free to eat.

The bulk of it seemed to be food from distant lands that Caerleon traded with, most of it, therefore was spicy. Father in particular did not care for spicy food, I however, was more than happy with it, I even made sure to pile my plate with a little bit of everything to enjoy. I should have liked more of one particular dish, but I didn’t want to be ill-mannered and eat like a hog.

The main meal was followed by dessert and there were even more exotic foods available for us to try and it seemed no sooner that I had made yet another wide selection from everything that there was a sudden bang and big plume of smoke in the centre of the room, setting people gasping and quite a few goblets upended.

When the smoke cleared, however, we all saw there was no reason to fear, it was the entertainment, acrobats and jesters! They seemed to be made in a different way to all the rest of us, able to bend and twist in ways that were not to be believed. They also had the most unbelievable balance and strength able to hold themselves on a few fingers completely steady. They had no fear either! One of them was perfectly happy to juggle light briers, while another allowed battle axes (and not wooden ones!) to be thrown at his head!

It was amazing enough that I almost forgot to finish my desserts! But...really...it wasn’t possible to forget that.

There was only one downside to the evening, and that was the presence of Caerleon the Younger, I was lucky enough in that because it was exclusively a sit down feast, rather than the kind I was used to back at Monmouth where everyone was free to move about, I didn’t have to spend the entire night looking over my shoulder.

Still at various points during the evening, I felt eyes burning into me and when I dared to respond to this feeling and look in the direction of the Royal Table I could see the Prince glowering at me. If looks could kill or maim...

By the end of the evening though, I had almost forgot about Prince Caerleon and most of the Bishops had perhaps overindulged in the wine that was on offer because when it was time to leave quite a few of them seemed a little unsteady on their feet. As for me, while I felt a little overfull from having ate so much, I was still in giddy mood, almost skipping alongside Mother and Father as we made our way back to the Bishops Mansion.

Everyone thought it best to go to bed directly on arrival back, but I found it impossible to get to sleep, jiggling my legs in excitement as I lay on a mattress on the floor of the room while my parents shared the bed. Eventually, Mother told me to settle down and go to sleep, in a tone that meant business, so with a great amount of effort I managed not only to keep still, but actually fall asleep, although my dreams were filled with visions of exotic food and acrobats.


Mother, Father and I did not stay in the city for long, which was a relief to me really, because I was sure that if we had Prince Caerleon would have tracked me down and fought me.

Still, I didn’t really want to go back to Monmouth either, because now I had learnt to read I wanted to read things! But the only books my father had were, unsurprisingly, religious tomes. They were interesting in their own way I suppose, but as I said I was not one with great religious conviction and there was so much else to read about!

Monmouth was a town without a library, which really wasn’t all that unusual in those days with it hardly being large enough to be called a town. The cost of a public library would have been too much, especially since so few of the population could read, in fact, I’m pretty sure that Father and I were the onlydo wish to swim, far better you do it in the pond.”

“I never intended to go swimming,” I was quick to defend myself. “I was...trying to study something.”

Llachlan did not look like he believed me, but then he was used to the typical boys of Monmouth, rather than me and since he had rescued me, I decided it was better not to make a fuss.

Once I was warm again, I thanked Llachan once more and went looking for my parchment, which I had left behind when I had fallen into the river. Fortunately, it had not started to rain or sleet as it so often did in the winter at Monmouth and my notes were safe.

I returned to the house that afternoon, hoping, probably against hope that Mother would not find out about my adventure because...well...I could still remember her fear all those years ago about me falling into the river.

But Monmouth is a small enough place and even if it wasn’t the fact my mother was the wife of the Bishop pretty much guaranteed that she would find out what happened. She met me at the door with blankets and immediately bundled me up, dragged me in front of the fire, tutting all the while and asking me what on earth I was thinking.

“I was trying to test something,” I did my best to explain myself, although my voice was rather muffled by the blankets. “I didn’t mean to fall in.”

“You can’t swim, Geoffrey! You should even go near the river.”

I thought that was being over-cautious, after all, a river did run through the town, was I forever to be trapped on the east side of town?

Mother though, was in fine form and I supposed I quite deserved a telling off for what I had done so I didn’t try to come up with any excuses.

It was a very long telling off, in fact Father arrived home in time to hear the tail end of it.

He turned to me at the end and asked just one thing. “The river, Geoffrey?”

At that point I decided that it would be best that I learnt to swim.

The next time I met Caerleon the Younger was in the Main Hall of the castle, in front of the king himself! I don’t know what Father said to King Caerleon, but whatever it was convinced the King that there needed to be some sort of…meeting between his son and me.

I had never been in the Main Hall of the castle before, it was a huge cavernous room with windows high up in the walls and guards in front of the huge double doors that opened to it.

At the very end of the hall were the thrones, they weren’t very big, but they still drew your eyes to them right away. King Caerleon was sitting on one them and standing beside him was the prince.

I swallowed, as the guards who had opened the door gestured for me to approach. I didn’t want to, I’d much rather have turned and ran, but if there was anything that would have caused offense to the King that would have been it. So, I went, it seemed to take forever to walk the length of the hall, at one point I thought I'd never reach it! Finally though I arrived before the King and made what I hoped was a decent bow.

“You are Geoffrey, son of Galfridus I understand?” The King greeted me.

“Yes, sire,” it came out as a squeak and out the corner of my eye I saw his son smirking at me.

“Your father spoke to me the other day, young Geoffrey,” the King continued, his tone wasn’t gentle, but it was jovial enough, clearly I wasn’t about to be sent to the dungeons. “He informed me that you and my son have not being seeing eye to eye.”

That was an understatement! And my heart dropped when the King looked at his son with an indulgent smile. It seemed obvious how this was going to turn out, why then had the King called me here? Did he plan to humiliate me?

I didn’t know if I was supposed to reply to this or not, it didn’t seem to be a question, weren’t you only supposed to answer a King if he asked you a question?

So I waited.

“I have spoken to my son about this,” I thought I saw the King give his son an almost stern look, but that might have been wishful thinking. Cearleon the Younger certainly didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “And he has assured me that he meant no harm, I don’t wish to dismiss the incident that occurred between you, but my son has been brought up in a rather rough and tumble atmosphere, watching the knights, and play fighting with their sons.” The young Prince looked like he was about to object to the term ‘play fighting’, but he kept his mouth shut. “I understand however that things are different in Monmouth,” the King continued, “so I fear that’s the reason you two got off on the wrong foot.”

I think King Caerleon was being rather too optimistic about things, the reason his son and I had got off on the wrong foot was because his son was a bully and had taken an instant dislike to me for reasons unknown.

The King was not finished however, he put an arm around his son’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. “That being the case, I believe it would be best for you two to mend fences.”

I swallowed and wondered exactly what that could mean…

“I have spoken to your father who indicated to me that you’ve never learnt to wield a sword or even fire an arrow,” the King shook his head and chuckled as if he’d never heard anything so unbelievable in his entire life. “Now, fortunately for you, my boy is well above his age in skill and ability in both those things. So, he has agreed to teach you.”

“Teach me, sire?” I somehow managed to keep my voice from squeaking this time.

“Yes, after all, a proper Cearleonian should know how to defend himself,” the King strokes his beard. “You and Caer can beginning training tomorrow.”

“Uh…” I was about to say, but then wisely remembered I was addressing the king so stopped myself.

The King hadn’t heard me, and spoke on. “Eight o’clock, don’t be late now.”

The Prince’s smirk became decidedly evil as he looked down at me, I swallowed hard and unconsciously took a step backward.

The King seemed to think I was leaving, which wasn’t too far from the truth I suppose, I certainly felt like running, but he gave a rather benevolent smile. “You should always wait to be dismissed before leaving, boy, but you may go.”

“Yes, sire,” I gave a quick bow and fought the urge to run at least until I cleared the double doors, then I did run all the way to Father to ask him what on Earth he said to the King because whatever it was it had just made my life a nightmare!


Father was never able to give me a satisifactory answer on that point, nor was there any way for me to escape a royal command, so the next morning I found myself in the courtyard awaiting the arrival of Prince Caerleon.

For a brief moment I considered leaving the city all together in order to escape what I was certain would be a horrible, horrible fate, but disobeying a King’s orders wasn’t a good idea, so there I was.

I was actually early and I began to pace nervously, waiting for my doom, the prince made me wait, I was early, but he was late, almost an hour late. He appeared with that evil smile on his face and his trainer in tow.

“Well, well, I didn’t think you’d actually show up, Mudmouth, you’re braver than I thought.” The Prince greeted me, but he didn’t sound particularly impressed by that.

“Your father ordered it, so I am here.” I answered with as much of my so-called bravery as I could.

The Prince made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh, then suddenly, somehow he grabbed a bow and arrow from…somewhere and before I even had time to think, fired off a shot. The arrow flew past my ear, so close I heard the sound of rushing air. I clapped my hand to my ear, wondering if it was still there. It was and even more than that, it wasn’t bleeding.

“That’s where hard training gets you, Mudmouth,” the Prince drawled as I turned back to look at him. “Aim and precision.”

I just stood there, gaping.

“Or perhaps you’d like to learn the fine art of sword play.” Prince Caerleon continued on, taking the sword his trainer offered to him. And then he was moving towards me, swinging and twirling it in front of him so fast I couldn’t even follow the movement.

He kept moving towards me, until I was forced to step back and keep stepping back until I tripped up landing flat on my rear.

He tossed the sword down next to me, and I moved my hand away to avoid getting sliced.

“Well go on,” The Prince ordered.

I looked at him confused.

“The sword, you idiot. Pick it up.”

I’d never held a sword before, and I was surprised at its heaviness, the Prince had made swinging it look so easy and he wasn’t much bigger than me. I managed to lift of course, but I had to hold it very tightly with two hands and it wobbled. I was so busy concentrating on keeping it upright that I didn’t even notice that the Prince had got hold of a staff and he swung it at me, knocking the sword easily from my hands.

He shook his head at me, his face twisted in disgust. “Or maybe we should forget it, you’re bloody hopeless.”

I wasn’t about to complain, but I must have looked far too relieved because the Prince’s lips twisted into even crueller smile. “But I do hate to disappoint my father.” He threw the staff against my chest, I suppose I was meant to catch it, but of course I didn’t, instead I just ended up winded.

While I was getting my breath back, the Prince strode away back to his trainer and began issuing sharp commands to the man who scurried to obey them.

“Someone as pathetic as you doesn’t deserve to know the arts of swordplay, so bow and arrow it is. Although I’m sure you’ll look just as pathetic trying to learn that.” The Prince gave a nasty laugh. “But then I’ve been looking for some entertainment, this time of year is really boring.”

I had only just managed to get my breath back when the Prince walked back over and shoved a bow at me.

“Well go on, draw it.”

I did my best, but the bow was strung ridiculously tight, I didn’t see how anyone could draw it. For a moment I assumed that the Prince was playing a trick on me, especially when he laughed derisively at my struggles.

“Mudmouth, you are the weakest thing I’ve ever met,” he came over and yanked the bow away from me, drawing the string back easily. “Maybe if you kept your nose out of books and skipping around like a girl you’d be less of an embarrassment to yourself and your family.”

An embarrassment to my family? I most certainly was not! I almost said so, but one look from the Prince was enough to silence me. I wasn’t about to antagonise him…at least not any further. I was in a bad enough spot all ready.

Bad and it got worse. For the next hour, the Prince ran me raggard, making me run laps around the courtyard with a heavy target on my back, followed by having to lie upon the hard stones and attempt to lift my body up by my arms. By the end of an hour and a half I could barely move and the whole time Prince Caerleon watched, arms folded, laughing and taunting me all the while.

Finally, the torture ended, the Prince walking over to where I’d collapsed on the ground and poked at me with his foot.

“That’ll do for today, Mudmouth, I’ve got real training to do. If you survive I’ll see you again same time tomorrow. Eight o’clock.”

Tomorrow? I didn’t think I could bear to undergo this again, but there was no arguing with the Prince, not that he gave me a chance to make any complaints. He snapped his fingers and all of sudden I felt myself being hauled off the ground by his trainer, who less than delicately deposited me in one of the corridors before retuning to his prince.

As I lay there, the Prince’s friends trooped past on the way to the courtyard and having spotted me, of course all had to have a very good laugh at my situation. At least they didn’t decide to nudge me with their feet or the staffs they were holding as the passed.

Soon enough they had all filed past and I could hear the Prince’s voice from the courtyard and then the sound of staffs banging together.

Eventually I was able to get to my feet, my entire body aching and make my way back to Father and my rooms where I was quickly flung into writing lessons, which of course went atrociously, since my arms felt ready to fall off.

“You really must do better, Geoffrey,” the old tutor tutted at me, shaking his head as he looked at my work. “Words are beautiful things, they should not be scribbled out in such an inferior manner.”

I considered bringing up the torment Prince Caerleon had put me through, but the old man was rather loyal to the royal family, at least he seemed to praise them a lot, when he wasn’t bemoaning Father’s handwriting or our slow progress generally. So instead, I gave the only answer I could give. “No sir.”

Getting away from the city was sounding more and more appealing by the second.


My torture by the Prince continued on, Father attempted to make me feel better about my daily torment by pointing out the fact that I was being ‘prepared’ for my future in Caerleon’s army one day.

“We all have to do it, my boy,” he said to me after one particular gruelling session, he was applying Arnica to the bruises and cuts I had sustained that day. “Even I.”

“I don’t want to be a soldier!” I protested shaking my head. “And they don’t want me to be one either, I’m hopeless at it!”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, son,” Father patted my arm. “It’s not as if there’s any great war going on these days. Most of it will be patrolling, perhaps a few bandits here and there.”

“Why should I be a solider if I’d be no good at it?” I asked once more. “If there’s no war they don’t need everyone pitching in, I’ll just make things worse.”

“That’s just the way things are.” Father finished with the Arnica and got up to put the bottle back. “It is not the worst thing in the world, it’ll only be a year of your life.”

“And now,” I grumbled.

“Surely you must be getting better with the bow and arrow now?” Father asked hopefully.

I grimaced. “I haven’t even been able to pull the string back yet.”

Father sighed and pat me gently on the shoulder again. “You’ll pick it up soon enough, Geoffrey, I’m sure of it.”

“When are we leaving for Monmouth? We’re not going to live in the city forever are we?”

“Of course not, but we are here at the King’s pleasure, so we are to stay until he says it’s time for us to leave. Also we have not yet completed our lessons, you wouldn’t want to leave it unfinished would you?” He gave me a smile.

I smiled back, he was right, it would be horrible to have done all this work only to give up now.

One day a few weeks into Prince Caerloen’s ‘training’ of me, the King himself came to the courtyard to check on my progress. Which was both welcome in that it meant the Prince was on his best behaviour and not having my slither across the courtyard stones on my stomach (I had asked him to explain what the point of that was, and how it would make me a better archer, but such a question had only earned me a boot between my shoulder blades) and unwelcome in that it meant the King was expecting me to show my progress.

And that progress was pathetic at best. I had managed to at least draw the bowstring back, but I had not yet loosened a single arrow.

At least not until that day, because in the presence of his father, the Prince decided now was the perfect time for me to begin.

As he shoved an arrow at me, he growled in a low voice. “Try not to hit anyone, Mudmouth.”

Well, that was helpful instruction, a competent and able teacher the Prince was most assuredly not.

He left me and went to his father’s side and glared at me, arms folded, waiting.

I had not even held the bow with the arrow in it, there was a notch at the end that was supposed to make setting it against the bowstring easier, but having never tried it before I didn’t rate my chances at getting it right. Unsurprisingly, the first time a tried to set the arrow it slipped, the result of which was an angry sound from the Prince, but when I took a quick look over he had schooled his face into a neutral expression. The King however had raised an eyebrow at me, making I quite obvious who would be blamed if I completely bungled this.

I took a deep breath and carefully fit the arrow nock into string and managed to draw the string back without it falling out.

On the other side of the courtyard was the target, which only yesterday I’d been forced to lug about on my back, I rather hated that target, it was heavy and the straps bit into my shoulders. Which I suppose served to make it easier to focus on it.

I raised the bow and somehow managed to keep the front end of the arrow balance on my forefinger, but all ready my arms were beginning to tremble, it was hard work keeping a bow drawn!

I really should have spent more time with aiming, but my arms just couldn’t keep holding it and the sound of the string twanging made me jump.

I can say, at least, that there was power behind it, it didn’t immediately fall to the ground.

However, it didn’t get anywhere near to reaching the target either.

There was dead silence in the courtyard, except for my beating heart, and I swallowed hard, turning slowly to face the King and the Prince.

Neither of them looked particularly pleased, the Prince was clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles were white. To my relief however, the King did not look nearly so angry, he looked completely bemused. He turned to his son and asked him something that I couldn’t hear, then he turned back to me.

“It seems you need more practice, lad,” he said in a loud booming voice. “But then we can’t all be natural warriors, I look forward to you improving soon enough.”

He gives his son a pat on the shoulder before moving off and less than a minute after he’d left the courtyard, the Prince stormed over to me and punched me in the jaw hard, I reeled back, stumbled and landed in a heap on the stones.

“You humiliated me, Mudmouth,” he snarled. “In front of my father, do it again and I’ll make you suffer.”

There was any number of things I could have said in response to that, but I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut, although that was probably more because my jaw was throbbing.

The Prince yanked me to my feet and grabbed up the bow and shoved it in my hands. “Practice and if I you can’t hold this fully drawn for ten minutes by the end of this week, everything I’ve made you do before will seem like luxury.”

And with that he stormed out the courtyard, his trainer following.

I had no other choice, but to practice drawing the bow string and setting the arrow and trying to actually get some distance in my shots – it was too much to hope I’d be able to hit anything.

I wasn’t sure how long I was out there, but eventually Father came and found me, telling me I was going to be late for our lesson.

He looked at the bow with some bemusement.

“The Prince decided to train me on this,” I explained with a rueful look. “He thought I didn’t deserve to learn how to use a sword.”

Father patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Geoffrey, I’m sure you’ll pick it up, you’re a smart boy.”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with smarts,” I gave the bow and arrow a look and tossed them aside.

I picked them up before I left though, and returned them to the armoury, since some servant would probably get into trouble for it and that was hardly fair.

Prince Caerleon might not care about fairness and decency, but I did!


Father and I ended up being in the city for an entire year, much longer than I thought we would, every so often word would come from Monmouth, including news from Mother, who was taking care of things at home. A new deacon had come to take Father’s place so the chapel was no longer her concern, but we had some farmland that needed overseeing. Although at one point she complained that the new deacon didn’t seem to be keeping the chapel up in the manner she had kept it. I took that to mean that he wasn’t keeping freshly cut flowers or having the pews polished weekly anymore.

But the King had sent a building crew down to Monmouth to construct a church, a far smaller one than what was being built in the city, but still it would be the largest building in Monmouth. Once Father and I returned, he would be in charge of that church or rather Mother would be, at least in so far as the upkeep of the building. Mother was very good at such things, so this would no doubt make her very happy indeed.

I, for one began to lose my fascination with the city, mostly due to Prince Caerleon who did the best he could to make everything I did a nightmare! Whenever I tried to go into the city to see the markets or how the new church was going, he’d somehow find out and plan to all but ambush me. Sometimes I’d manage to escape, but it made it difficult to have any enjoyment in such things as I was constantly looking over my shoulder.

However, sometimes I did get a few small joys, like the woman who assisted me that first day would sometimes offer me sweetmeats and other treats from her stall when she saw me passing by. Unless I was bruised or bleeding, in which case she would tut at me, but she would always bring some warm water to wipe down any blood or dirt.

To say nothing of that horrible training, I would never be an archer, I eventually managed to loose an arrow and hit the general area of the target. I actually thought that was quite an achievement, but the Prince practically spat on me.

The next time the King came to see my progress, the Prince made quite a show of telling him how impossible I was to train, how I lacked the ability to learn or the willingness to practice. The last statement at the very least was a complete lie, I practiced daily, but I could hardly speak up I my defence, I could only hope that the Prince’s comments would not make the King angry at me, I didn’t want to be put into a dungeon!

The King, though, seemed to be more amused by his son’s displeasure than anything else, he patted him on the shoulder than called over to me to fire at will.

I did at the very least not drop the arrow this time as I set the nock and drew the bow string, I even had time to aim before taking my shot.

The arrow flew through the air, but I obviously didn’t aim quite as well as I thought I had, because it went up in a huge arc and instead of hitting the target, it dove into the stones of the courtyard, bounced off and landed rather pathetically on the ground.

I swallowed hard, staring at the arrow just lying there, it was in front of the target, at least, but I really didn’t know if that was good enough.

There was silence, complete silence.

And then footsteps and a shadow fell over me.

“You’ve definitely improved, boy,” the King’s voice sounded and my head shot up in surprise, I hadn’t been expecting him to come over at all! Out the corner of my eye I could see the Prince, glowering at me, arms folded across his chest.

“But I don’t believe you’ll have enough time to learn how to better your technique, you and your father will soon be returning to Monmouth.” He paused and gave a chuckle. “You might want to keep up the practice, however, you never know when I may go on progress and stop by.”

I looked up at him and blinked a few times, before finally realising he was expecting an answer. I quickly ducked my head and bowed. “Of course, sire, yes sire.”

“Good lad.”

With that he turned and strode back to his son and to my relief he put his arm about his son’s shoulders and lead him away, meaning there was no opportunity for him to punch me and berate me. I made a quick get away and went to see Father about what the King had said.

“It is quite true, Old Theolus has finally declared me able to read and write at an appropriate level so as not to humiliate myself and the kingdom.” He told me.

“What about me?”

“Theolus rates your handwriting far above mine and probably your reading skill as well.” Father pats me on the shoulder. “You’ll have quite a career ahead of you as my scribe.”

“Well, I’ll be a better scribe than an archer, I bet,” I couldn’t help looking sour faced.

“I wouldn’t say that, Geoffrey, you got quite a bit of distance.”

I looked at him quizzically. “How do you know?”

“Because I watched you from the window, you didn’t think I would miss such a thing, did you?”

I was surprised and a little embarrassed, even thought Father seemed to think I had done well.

“The King send he might go on a progress one day and come to Monmouth, do you really think I should practice?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Father gave my shoulder a pat. “I dare say the King won’t remember speaking to you, he meets so many people after all.”

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or not at that, Father seemed comfortable enough with the idea that the King would always need an introduction whenever they met. He was at heart a very modest man, despite his bishopric.

As the King had indicated to me, it was not long after that that Father and I packed up, taking with us a new Bible that would be the centrepiece of the new church in Monmouth, which was due to be finished within a week of our return. It was strange leaving the city, despite my growing distaste for the place I had grown used to living there in amongst the hustle and bustle of so many people and the neighing of horses from the stables and the way the castle bells rang out the hours. It took two days for our party to return to Monmouth and the first night I had trouble getting to sleep in our encampment just off the edge of the old Roman road that linked many places in Albion. They were breaking down after many years of disrepair, mostly dust tracks than paved now, but it did make it easier to move from place to place.

It was so quiet out in the forests, I didn’t recall at the time, but when Father and I had first arrived in the city all the noise had kept me awake, now I was having trouble sleeping for the exact opposite reason. I tossed and turned all night long, I finally got to sleep, but it was probably in the early hours of the morning because when Father woke me up I felt like hadn’t got much rest at all! Fortunately we weren’t on horse back but in a cart, I had ridden a horse only a few times before in my life and it was enough for me to know that I would never be a good rider.

We made good time the rest of the way back to Monmouth and arrived that afternoon as the sun was starting to set. The town looked even smaller than before after a year in the city, however, it was home and the fact Mother was waiting for us certainly made homecoming even better.

“Geoffrey, look how you’ve grown!” She greeted me, shaking her head and hugging me tight. “I barely even recongnise you.”

I laughed. “Well, you look just the same.”

She gave me a big kiss on the cheek. “I missed you, the kitchen wasn’t the same without you there hassling me for off cuts.”

“Don’t worry, Mother, they didn’t manage to cure me of that habit.”

Mother made a show of shaking her head before patting my cheek and welcoming me home again.

Mother greeted Father with a hug as well, giving him a good natured poke in the chest. “Did you know I even started to miss your babble after a while?”

Father laughed and looked quite pleased with this information. “Distance can work many miracles it would appear.”

We didn’t stay to unpack our belongings, because we had to visit the church first, which was an easy walk from our house. Although we were a bit slower than usual because Father had to carry the new Bible along.

“They’ve been working feverishly to finish it up in time for Christmas,” Mother told us as we walked along, “originally it was going to be for Easter…then for your arrival back, but you know how workman are.”

I knew at least, the church in the capital continued to be built slowly, so slowly in fact that the official ceremony of Father and the other bishops had to be postponed because of it. The last thing the King said before our departure was to expect a missive from him one day soon recalling us to the capital so the ceremony could be performed.

The small church in Monmouth though was almost finished, the only thing it was lacking was a complete spire, but the workmen were working on it as we arrived. They waved from their perches and called down welcoming us back and asking what the capital was like. Father and I told them a few stories about our time there before the supervisor appeared from somewhere and told them to return to work and they could all visit the capital if they so wished once they had finished up here.

Mother, Father and I entered the church and it seemed a whole different world, quiet and peaceful, with pews evenly spaced along two rows up to an altar behind which hung a large cross, the symbol of the new religion.

Father immediately bowed deeply and Mother and I followed suit, although perhaps with not as much reverence before we continued along the aisle.

Mother and I waited while Father went up to the altar and lay the new Bible at the centre of it, taking a few minutes to position it just right before coming back down the steps to us, a large smile on his face.

“There we go, now it’s a proper church.” He declared with a firm nod.

“The pews are much nicer here than the chapel,” Mother answered with a sly smile. “They might not even need to polish them for a few years yet.”

Father attempted to look serious, if not dour at Mother’s teasing, but his lips quirked in a laugh instead.

It was good to be home.

I was born in the village of Monmouth almost a hundred years ago, and in those days it had very little to recommend it.

It lay in the kingdom of Caerleon, a small kingdom, but a valuable one in that it lay within a great bay, so there was not much land, but plenty of access by sea. The result was a rich kingdom, although a vulnerable one and every male, noble or not grew up knowing that one day they would have to join the ranks of the army to help in protecting the coasts and borders.

For most boys this was a rather exciting prospect, but for me not so much. I was a less than co-ordinated boy and more inclined to spending time in quiet contemplation and wishing that one day I would know how to read and write.

According to my mother I was never like the other boys, I was full of curiosity and rather than want to make up war games with other boys or collect bugs from the river, I wanted to know all about how things worked. The moment I learnt how to walk, Mother needed to keep a close eye on me because I was forever attempting to escapee our small cottage and go exploring in the village. Mother got very good at keeping an eye on me, but when I was four I managed to evade her and escape to town where I wandered about looking for something interesting to watch. Eventually I came upon the forge, where Rhys the Blacksmith worked every day making all sorts of metal objects for the people in the town and the farmers in the surrounding area as well.

The forge, of course, was off limits to children, actually it was probably off limits to anyone, but I was small and quiet so I managed to sneak in without attracting any attention. I hid behind a heavy oak chair and watched as Rhys worked. I probably could have stayed there for hours if not for the fact the blacksmith started hammering something, which lead to a lot of sparks flying every which way and one of them blew my way landing upon the sleeve of my tunic.

I immediately had visions of bursting into flame and let out the loudest yell I possibly could! Rhys almost dropped his hammer and tongs which probably would have set the workshop on fire, but he managed to drop them into the water bucket and he turned immediately in my direction where I was waving my arms about in the hope that that would prevent the spark from taking hold.

Rhys, an enormous man, was at my side in a single step and reaching out with a huge hand he extinguished the glowing spark between his thumb and forefinger, just like that!

I was so relieved that I immediately hugged Rhys around the legs and he was quite happy to let me stay and watch him at work in a more visible position, at least until my mother, who arrived in a complete state of alarm, fearing I had wandered off and fallen into the river.

On finding me, she immediately embraced me tightly, almost crying and telling me to never ever do that again.

But yes, even from a young age I wanted to broaden my horizons and something told me that being literate would be a very important step in that process.

For a long time that seemed like an impossible dream, my father was a low level deacon for the small Christian population in the area. And it was a small population, it was not for nothing that it was known as the new religion by most and it wasn’t a particular popular religion either, having come from the Romans all those centuries ago. Furthermore, because the population was so small, their deacon really didn’t need to know how to read, being well-versed in the Bible by rote was all that was expected of him.

Or at least that was the case before the king of Caerleon decided that the new religion was the one for him – I believe that had more to do with the trade possibilities that it opened – whatever the case my father suddenly found himself elevated to a bishopric, which had a whole new set of duties, chief among them the necessity of being able to read and write.

When my father was advised that he would need to learn it was the most exciting day of my young life and immediately set about, begging and pleading to be included in the lessons. I have to admit that I was an utter pest and nearly drove my poor father to despair, but in the end he relented and so at ten years of age I travelled with him to the capital, the Castle of Caerleon, which had been built with the funds of hundreds of years of trade bounty. It was quite a sight although there was general consent that the castle in the kingdom of Camelot was even more spectacular, but at that time I didn’t care which castle looked better, all I cared about was learning to read and write and Caerleon Castle was where I would do so.

Mother had remained in Monmouth and while I missed her, I think it helped me learn my lessons faster, because back at Monmouth I often spent a large part of the day with Mother, in the kitchens. Before she had married Father she had been a cook in a nobleman’s house and now as the wife of a deacon made big meals for the benefit of those in town who could not afford to eat every day. I would often pop into the kitchen of our house throughout the day and pester Mother to give me a taste of whatever she was making. She always said I was distracting her from her very important duties and making a pest of myself besides, but eventually she would relent and I’d get something delicious to tide me over until I felt the need to visit the kitchen again. I didn’t always go to the kitchen to get food however, I’d often go there just to talk with Mother, so not having her close by was unusual. But the knowledge that the sooner I learnt my lessons the sooner we would be able to return to Monmouth was a great incentive. Soon I was outstripping Father in them, a fact that left him quite amused.

“I do believe I’m going to have to make you my clerk, Geoffrey,” he would say, shaking his head with a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll ever figure out the writing.”

Father’s writing was indeed atrocious and he struggled to read. Our tutor, a dour, sour faced old man often remarked that it was easier for children to pick up such things. That didn’t stop him from bemoaning Father’s problems with learning. Father was a very intelligent man and this rankled him and in turn made his learning even more difficult. He never did get the hang of writing although he did eventually learn how to read quite well.

While Father and I lived in the capital we stayed at the castle as guests of the king, who like most of his ancestors before him, was called Caerleon. He had a son, also called Caerleon, who was about my age and I can say with authority we were not playmates. Caerleon the Younger was a brutish boy, who longed for the day when he could begin his training and start running about with battle axes. The King was extremely proud of his son and as a result had commissioned a special all wooden battle axe for him. It was apparently not a dangerous weapon, the edges not being sharp, but I assure you it was more than capable of inflicted damage upon someone.

That someone turned out to be me.

It began on a fine day in spring, I had come to enjoy going on walks throughout the city, at first the place had been quite overwhelming, but there was much to see and hear that I quickly began to enjoy it.

I never interacted with other children all that much, however, which I suppose made me stand out and piqued Caerleon the Younger’s interest. And unfortunately, his interest was nothing a peaceful child like me wished to have.

I was walking towards the new church that was being built when he appeared in the middle of the road in front of me, hands on hips, the wooden axe hanging off his belt.

“Hey, Mudmouth,” that was as his extremely witty name for me, whenever he had his friends around there would be peals of laughter, forced if you ask me. “What do you think your doing?”

I gestured about me. “Walking down the street.” I found that it was best to keep things simple when it came to young brawlers like Caerleon.

“And why are you doing that, should you be squirming around like the worm you are?”

I honestly have no idea why I was so offensive to Caerleon, it was not as if I had done anything to him, I hadn’t even noticed him for the first few months I was in the city. Then one day we met in one of the corridors of the castle, and the young boy had taken an immediate dislike to me, asking me for my name with a snarl and when I told him, he immediately came up with the ‘Mudmouth’ epithet.

I had avoided him since then, but now here we were face to face and the road was narrow, it was more of an alleyway really, so there wasn’t much of a chance of me escaping the confrontation.

“I was merely going to visit the church,” I offered further explanation even though I didn’t really think it would make my situation any better.

“The church,” Cearleon sneered. “You would go there rather than the training grounds, Mudmouth, you’re a little whiny crybaby aren’t you?”

“If you say so,” I had decided that arguing wasn’t going to get me anywhere in this situation and I’d rather get out of it without bruising if possible. In the past I had indeed managed to escape from such scrapes unscathed, but today turned out differently.

Caerleon stepped forward, hand on the handle of his wooden axe. “You admit it? Don’t you have any pride?”

“I don’t wish to argue with you, if you would just let me –“

Cearleon’s face twisted angrily and the wooden axe was in hand almost as though by magic. “You’re not going anywhere Mudmouth, you’re going to stand here and fight, like a man.”

At that point I held my hands up in a placating gesture. “I have no issue with you, your highness, I really don’t think it –“

“You don’t, well that’s too bad, because I have a problem with you. Arm yourself.”

I blinked at him in utter confusion, arm myself? With what? I was in the middle of an alleyway! Not that arming myself would have done any good.

“I’ve never used a weapon, it would be grossly un-“

I was interrupted again, but this time it wasn’t by words, but a blow. A blow that seemed to come out of nowhere and brought me to my knees, clutching at my left temple, moaning.

My vision blurred and it took a moment before I could see anything at all and the first thing that appeared to me was the wooden axe, lying in front of me. Caerleon, the brute had thrown it at me!

I carefully raised my eyes expecting to see him at least looking horrified, but no, he had a huge smirk on his face. He looked proud of himself! Proud that he had thrown a wooden object at unarmed me!

“Well, is that it? You’re not going to get up.” Caerleon’s voice grated even more than usually. He bent down and retrieved the wooden axe, looking it over carefully. “There’s blood on it!”

I dropped my hands from my throbbing temple and stared at them, they were indeed bloodstained.

I wasn’t about to get an apology from Cearleon however, he was still smirking and he gave a nasty chuckle, stepping forward and grabbing at my cloak. I tried to pull away, but my throbbing head prevented any swift movement and suddenly there was a tearing noise and Caerleon stepped back he had a portion of my cloak – a present from my mother – in his hand.

Cearleon wiped off the head of his wooden axe with the material and then tossed it down in front of me.

“Do yourself a favour Mudmouth, go back to your hole, crybabies like you have no place here.”

He didn’t bother waiting for me to give a reply, not that there would have been one. He had decided to hate me and it was clear I would have to watch my step for the rest of my time in the city. If that was indeed possible, he was after all the prince.

It was some time before I was able to get to my feet however and even when I did I was still unsteady on my feet, leaning against the wall waiting for the spinning to stop.

Once it did I managed to pick up my discarded piece of cloak, which I used to dab at my temple. There was definitely a wound, but the blood wasn’t flowing freely.

I wondered if I should continue on to the church, who knew where Caerleon the Younger had gone, I certainly didn’t want a second run in.

I had heard that the sight of the church being built was quite spectacular so I decided to continue on that way. I liked to study all things and architecture was something I hadn’t had a chance to do living in a small village like Monmouth.

So, I continued on my way, the fresh air did my head good, although I ended up attracting attention as I headed through the market square, although I didn’t realise it until an elderly lady came over with a tray of sweetmeats in her hands.

“Young man, you’re bleeding!” She looked at me worry creasing her brows. “What happened? Your cloak… Were you set upon by bandits?”

That made me smile a little, I was quite certain that had that being the case I would have been in far worse shape. I went to shake my head, then thought better of it and said no.

“Brawling with another boy?” She immediately looked at me reproachfully. “You youngsters, always so ready to come to blows. Look where it’s gotten you.”

“I didn’t actually do any fighting,” I told her, but I don’t think she believed me.

All the same, she very kindly offered me one of the sweetmeats and then went and got a wet cloth for me to wipe my face with.

“Well, it’s nothing serious at least,” she said as I handed the cloth back. “But let me tell you something, little one, using your fists and butting heads may seem like the easiest way to settle an argument, but often it isn’t the right way. Use your brains and you’ll get much further in life.”

So, evidentently she didn’t believe, but I did at least get a sweetmeat out of the deal.

And I would perhaps go so far as to say that the wound to my temple was worth it to see the church under construction. I even managed to speak to the head workman who explained to me how arches worked. Or at least he attempted to, I didn’t quite understand it, but I was only young at the time, plus after a while there my head began throbbing. I had wanted to do more walking, but instead I decided to chance my luck and return to the castle where father and my tiny rooms were located.

I didn’t run into Caerleon again, but as I walked through the door my father looked up from where he was sitting and was immediately on his feet.

“Geoffrey, what happened to you?” He hurried to my side and bent slightly so he could look more closely at the wound. “When did this happen?”

“A few hours ago,” I didn’t really feel like being fussed over, I’d much rather lie down. Once Father got onto something however...

“A few hours? Why didn’t you return here immediately? It might get infected. Come over here, I’ll put some rosewater on it.”

I started making excuses. “I’m all right, Fa-“

But it was too late for that, Father has all ready pulled me across the room to the table, where he all but forced me to sit down.

“Who did this to you?” He wanted to know as he went hunting about for the rosewater.

I considered my options. Father wasn’t a very imposing man as far as stature went, actually, he was rather short, but he was more than capable of being stubborn. And nothing made him more stubborn than the idea of an injustice being committed and really what the prince had down to me was completely unjust. However, it was the prince and I certainly didn’t want to get my father in trouble with the king, Father’s tenacity impressed people in Monmouth well enough, but I didn’t think King Caerleon would appreciate a subject lecturing him.

On the other hand, I wasn’t a liar by nature. In fact, I was pretty much useless at it. On the few occasions I had attempted to lie outright and not just by omission I had been caught out almost immediately. And once I was found out I’d have to confess and that would cause even more trouble.

“It was Prince Caerleon,” I got straight to the point.

Father almost dropped the bottle of rosewater over my head. “The Prince? You fought the prince, Geoffrey –“

“I didn’t do anything!” I protested. “I was just walking down to see the new church. He’s been picking on me since I met him. He threw an axe at me.”

“An axe?” Father looked utterly horrified.

“That stupid wooden axe he carries around all the time,” I grumbled.

Father set the bottle of rosewater down and sat in the chair across from me. “Geoffrey, you can’t antagonise the heir to throne.”

“I didn’t!” I said in annoyance again. “I was just minding my own business. He doesn’t like me, Father, I don’t know why.”

Father rubbed his forehead then spoke the words I dreaded hearing. “Well, obviously we need to speak to the King about this.”

“No,” I shook my head. “That’ll just make things worse and the king will be angry at you.”

Father raised his eyebrows. “Why would he be angry with me?”

“For speaking against his son and telling him what to do, kings don’t like that.”

Father chuckled. “Well, maybe not in the bedtime stories Mother and I tell you, but real kings swear an oath to judge fairly and impartially.”

“But Caerleon…the younger one is always talking about all the praise his father gives him, I think he’s about to be made a general in the army –“

Father reached out and patted my hand. “Geoffrey, the prince is merely boasting. I will of course make sure not to criticise the way the heir to the throne is being brought up, but he should at least be made aware of the situation.”

I did my best to try and get Father to change his mind, but it was a hopeless case. I could only hope that Father was right and that the King wouldn’t decide to have us both set to the stocks or maybe even thrown out of the city, we were still doing our lessons, if we had to leave now we’d never be literate! And that was far worse than getting a wooden axe thrown at me, at least in my opinion.

Monmouth, Albion, 1035

History is a strange beast and I should know, I have been in pursuit of it all my life and that is a very long time.

There is a saying that history is written by the victorious and that is true, to a point. But those who are not winners also write, it is only that their versions are not preserved, their stories not told.

I, however, am in position to make a small difference in that general truth. I have at my disposal the greatest library of all Albion and this tale that I write will be preserved with in it, a tale that will tell of those who were not in the end victorious, but who changed and shaped this very country.

Of course, I will be somewhat biased and limited in my interpretations, I am after all only one man and thus can only tell so much. Most of my tale will focus on that golden kingdom, Camelot and its capital, the white castle that has so dominated Albion these last three decades and perhaps longer.

But! As a methodical man, I must start at the beginning, as that is where all stories start is it not? And the past has so much impact on the present.

So that is where my tale will start, about a boy of no consequence who was born in a place and time of great consequence…

The Court Archivist Geoffrey is a long lived man, who has seen many, many things in his time and has no problems writing long winded rambles!

So, in the proud tradition of archivists everywhere, Geoffrey has written his tale, a history of Camelot and Albion, or at least the history he got to experience.

And being the great court archivist that he is he has included some topographical references for you, the gentle reader so you are well placed while reading this long-winded story.

( Albion - circa 935 )

( Gaul - circa 935 )

Chapters in the Archivist's Tale

Prologue

Part the First - The Boy

I

II

III

IV

Part the Second - The Student

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

Part the Third - The Search

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

Part the Fourth - Camelot - Map of the City

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

Part the Fifth - The Tutor

I

II

III

IV

Part the Sixth - Magic - Map of the Kingdom of Camelot

I

II

III

IV

Part the Seventh - The Scribe

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

Part the Eighth - The Visitors

I

II

III

Part the Ninth - Cornwall

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

Part the Tenth - The Novice

I

II

III

IV

V