by Jack Whyte
"Why didn't they?".
Uther took another pull at his drink, then answered, "Because they had been too eager. They ran out of arrows. They knew at the outset that, thanks to the venom on their barbs, they had no need to shoot to kill, so they were letting fly at random, hoping to do the maximum damage in the shortest possible time. They overshot, that's all."
"And you did not pursue them?"
"Not immediately. As I told you, I had other things to concern me. I didn't know then that every wounded man was going to die the way they did. We were concerned with trying to help them. It was only later we realized how useless our efforts were. By that time, the assassins were gone. They had galleys concealed below the overhang of the cliffs ahead of us and behind us."
"What kind of galleys?" My father's voice was sharp with interest.
"Big ones. Biremes."
"What about the thirty casualties you reported having left at our perimeter? Why didn't they die, too?"
"They were wounded honestly, in fair battle."
My father got up and walked about the room, thinking over what he had heard. "This Lot has much to answer for, when he and I come face to face."
Uther shook his head, a wry look on his face. "Apparently not, Uncle. His two crows outside deny any knowledge of venomed arrows. They claim that our attackers were not Lot's men."
"How can that be? It was Lot's land, was it not? And they were waiting for you."
"Aye, that they were. But Lot claims to have lost sixty men in battle against sea raiders. And these bowmen left by sea."
"Pshaw! Do you believe him?"
"No. I don't. But that proves nothing." Uther finished his wine and placed the cup on the table beside his left hip.
I spoke for the first time. 'Then who were the men you found dead? And who were the ten others you found executed?"
Uther grunted his disdain. "As far as I'm concerned, they could all have been Lot's own men. He's a cold-blooded beast. It wouldn't be beyond him to bait his trap by killing some of his own, especially if they were enemies from his jails, or malcontents. Dead like that, they would be useful to him. Alive, they'd be a nuisance."
"You really think he'd do that?" I asked.
Uther's look of wry amazement was eloquent. "Don't be ingenuous, Caius. Of course he would! He used those poisoned arrows, didn't he? His trap worked, didn't it? I tell you, it had been long in the planning. The swine would use anything to gain his ends."
"And what are his ends, Uther?" My father's voice was low. "What is this self-styled King of Cornwall really after?"
"You want me to hazard a guess?" Uther pushed himself erect, away from the table. "I would say dominion."
"Over what?"
"Over this whole land, starting with Camulod, and over every person living in it."
My father received this in silence, resuming his seat and steepling his fingertips beneath the end of his nose. I shifted in my chair, saying nothing, waiting, as was Uther, for him to resume. Finally he straightened and sniffed audibly, looking at me.
"Dominion.. .to conquer all of us. Does that sound familiar?"
I nodded, recalling him saying those very words. But he was already speaking to Uther.
"These ambassadors. Tell us more about them."
"There's not much more to tell. We rode on to Lot's main camp—it's a log-walled fort, primitive but well- sited—and met only token resistance along the way. When we arrived, we found the fort sealed and everyone inside. We drew up outside the walls and a party came out to parley with us. They asked us why we had invaded their domain? They had given us no provocation. I demanded to speak with Lot, but he would not honour us with his presence. We made camp within a mile of the fort. That night, these fellows came out to us with the bishop, and what they had to say convinced me that there was little to be gained, for the time being, in simply sitting there. The place can be supplied by sea. I decided to come home and regroup, after reporting and having the benefit of your advice.
"We started back the following day. Two days ago we surprised a small army of Saxons—real ones. That's where we took our other casualties. We lost three killed and the rest were wounded. We smashed the Saxons. They fought to the death. We obliged them. That's all I have to tell."
"You had thirty wounded in that fight?"
"No. About twenty. Twenty-two, in fact. The others were hurt during the token resistance I mentioned earlier. The fighting along the road to Lot's fort."
"Wait now, Uther. Let me understand this fully. You reached Lot's fort, his main camp, with almost no difficulty, apart from that one encounter with the bowmen. You arrived to find the place closed up against you, with everyone inside. Is that correct?"
Uther nodded.
"There was nobody outside at all?"
"Not a soul."
"So you could have besieged them?"
"Aye, we could have. But what was the point, and where my justification? I had no proof that he had moved against us, none at all. I felt as though we were the invaders, the unprovoked aggressors, on his land. He has some able negotiators in his pay. In any case, I had only four hundred men. I had no way of knowing how many he could field against us. The sea was at his back, too. If those galleys we'd seen were really his, they could make nonsense of any attempt at siege. His fort is built right above the shore, on the cliffs there."
My father was pacing the floor by this time, his eyes fixed on Uther so that his head swivelled as he traversed the room. "So. Lot presented you to yourself as the aggressor. He made no overtly hostile moves. He disclaimed knowledge of this disgusting thing with the poisoned arrows, and he dispatched these two 'ambassadors' to talk to us." His gaze swung to me. "Caius, you are the thinker. What's he trying to achieve here? He's up to something."
"Clearly," I admitted, "although I fear we'll find out nothing until we hear this embassy. Uther, did he make any reference at all to the attack from the north by the Hibernians?"
He shook his head. "None at all."
My father snapped his thumb and forefingers. "You're right, Caius! He is attempting to buy time. But to what purpose?"
"The apparent purpose doesn't matter, Father. It's the time itself that is important, I'm convinced of that, and I think I know how and why, but I must ask you both to bear with me and what might seem like foolish questions. By sending his people back with you, Uther, he was sure of gaining both time and information. Had we lost to the Hibernians, or been mauled by them, you would have ridden home to a very different reception than the one you received. His 'ambassadors' would have been able to report the situation from their own, personal observation. They will still be able to do that, since Lot has no idea that we know of his alliance with the Hibernians."
"What are you saying?" Uther's face had grown dark at this new information. "There was no coincidence in the double attack? Lot has allied himself with Outlanders?"
"Aye," I answered him. "He and his people have been busy. They have made friends among the Scots in Hibernia. Friends, it now appears, who could aid him militarily on land, and also keep him well supplied by sea in the event of a siege of his own stronghold."
"How did you find out about this?"
"By accident," Father intervened. "Cay made a bargain with a prince among the enemy. Kept him as hostage in return for sparing the lives of about a thousand of his men."
Uther turned to me at this, his eyebrows raised.
"It worked out well," I said, forestalling his question. "I trust the man. His word will hold, and that means that his father's people will make no move against us while we have him. Five years. He was the one who told us of the alliance." Uther looked confused. "Don't you see it yet, Uther?" I pressed him. "Lot can have no idea that things turned out the way they did. As far as he is concerned, we believe we have been attacked by raiders from Hibernia, that's all. If we drive them off, it will be at cost to us—the higher the better, from his viewpoint. In the meantime, he makes a diversionary move against us, timed
to coincide with their attack, to force us to split our troops. Having achieved that, he withdraws ahead of us without provoking us, making you appear the aggressor. Then he does attack you, mauls your men and your morale significantly, but goes to great lengths to maintain an appearance of innocence. He must have been sadly disappointed by the small scale of your losses.
"In any event, as the innocent, offended party he has the right to send back messengers with his aggrieved complaints about our invasion of his territories. These spies, armed in their innocent appearances, will quickly bring him information on the success of his allies' incursion against us. Whichever way the affair turns out, he has gained time and intelligence about our condition and our state of readiness against further attack. Best of all, however, in the aftermath of such sustained action by us on two fronts, his spies will be able to form an intelligent estimate of our real strength in men and horses."
During this summation my father had been nodding in grim-faced agreement. When Uther finally spoke, there was a tone of unwilling admiration in his words.
"That whoreson! What a devious, treacherous, unprincipled—"
"Aye, all of those and more, Uther," I said, interrupting him, "But include brilliant, and painstaking. If he were on our side, he'd be one of our master strategists. The flaw in his planning has been accidental. We turned the tables on his allies and arranged the truce we did, and we came out of it with more information from a first-hand source than Lot could possibly have anticipated."
"So be it, Caius," said my father. "You may have entered the mind of our antagonist far better than either Uther or I could have done. I for one can find no fault in your logic, or your deductions. But I confess your reference to buying time still leaves me grasping for meaning. Why should he need time? For what? What can we expect next?"
"He may have bought it already...I'm guessing now." They nodded, their eyes intent, and I took a few extra seconds to prepare my next thoughts. "I think Lot is here, close by us now. I think he'll attack us soon with everything he has, as soon as he can, before we are ready for anything. Uther, did you receive any indication at all of the strength he had concealed within his walls?"
A brief headshake. "Absolutely none. It could have been empty, or he could have had men piled in there, row on row, like logs. I have no idea."
"That's what I thought. Very well, visualize this, and bear in mind the type of man we have to deal with here.
Uther might have come home to face one of three situations: The first, and most desirable from Lot's point of view, would be that we had been completely beaten by the Scots invaders, and Uther would thus be riding into a deathtrap. The second would be that we had come home victorious, to whatever extent we might have been able to salvage a victory—I honestly do not believe Lot could have imagined such a complete victory as we have won, since God was clearly on our side and fighting with us, and Lot has little to do with any God. In this event, Uther would return to find us licking our wounds and recuperating from our exertions. The third possibility is that we might still be engaged in campaigning against the invaders, so Uther would find only a holding garrison in Camulod.
"Any one of these three possibilities would work to Lot's advantage. Remember, his spies ride with you, Uther, and you are supposedly convinced of Lot's blamelessness, despite any personal hatred you might have for him. Are you both with me thus far?" They nodded, still listening intently.
"Now, if I were as devious as Lot, I would attribute-to us sufficient malice to keep these two men waiting to deliver their messages. A day, at least, two days or three if my luck was working for me. If the Scots have been victorious, then Lot has no problems. If we have won, then we need time to lick our wounds and regroup, and we should be relieved to get Uther's reassurance—in spite of any personal misgivings—that the trouble in the south-west was without substance." I was confident in my logic, but its conclusions were startling, even to me. I took a deep breath before delivering my next statement.
"Father, Uther, I am prepared to wager that Lot followed hard on Uther's heels, and is now less than two days' march from here, in full force, waiting for his two spies to come back. If they do not arrive within two days, he will know that we were not defeated in the north. If we hear his envoys and send them back immediately, tomorrow, then he'll know within three days and still be closer to us than we would suspect. On the other hand, if we keep them waiting for two days, three days, he will have all the time he needs to deploy his armies and hit us from every direction, when we least expect it. He'll either use the departure of his spies as the signal for attack, or he'll move against us while they are still here."
"Would he sacrifice his friends that callously?" My father was still thinking of Lot in terms of normal human decency.
"The man has no friends, Father. He wouldn't think twice about it. I believe Lot of Cornwall intends to initiate all-out war against us, no less than three days from today, and no more than five. So let's say four days, but be prepared for three. And he'll be right here at our gates."
The silence that followed this assertion seemed to last forever. It was my father, clutching at straws, who broke it. "Cay, I'm not disputing your logic, but there's one flaw in it. Our own people are out there, throughout our lands. If Lot's army were to attempt to approach us, no matter how carefully, we would have word of it."
Even as he was speaking, I shook my head, denying him that avenue, which I had already considered. "Would we, Father? Don't forget his two hundred bowmen with their arrows that can kill with a scratch. Those people could move in a circle around us on a mile-wide front and kill every living soul. Especially if they did it in stealth. We haven't got that many people out there, and those who do live on the farms tend to congregate, after working all day. There would be no survivors to escape with warnings. The same applies to our sentries and outposts. Poisoned arrows! All it takes is a scratch. Uther, how long does it take a man to die?"
"All of the men I lost were dead within half an hour. Less than half that time for most of them." He was looking at my father, who listened, pale-faced.
"Father," I said, my voice as gentle as I could make it, "we have to assume that the people in and around Camulod itself, the people we can hear and see, are the only people left alive in the entire countryside who are not our enemies."
"That is monstrous!"
"Monstrous and evil. But it is typical of Lot of Cornwall, who is an evil monster."
He was convinced. "So be it! What do you suggest we do?" He was himself again. I changed my tone.
"We move. Immediately. Uther, not much rest for you tonight, Cousin. We'd better get Titus and Flavius in here, Father. We're going to need them."
He struck the small gong on his table and instructed the soldier who came at its summons.
Uther sighed and stretched himself. "What have you got in mind, Cay?"
"Your envoys. I don't want them to suspect that we are mobilizing. They must know nothing. The only thing I want them to think is that we are as stupid and unsuspecting as they assume us to be. Fortunately, if my suspicions are right, they'll take our treatment of them at face value. I want an unobtrusive guard placed over them, but I want them to know it's there. Keep them away from any place or any person that might make them suspicious of what we are doing. In the meantime, I've already sent word to the stewards of our breeding farms to assemble all our animals for a census. We made those arrangements by sheer chance, before we knew anything of this, but it means our horses will all be gathered right where we need them.
"Lot already knows that Uther had his four hundred horsemen with him, so he'll be expecting to find them here. That's good. They'll be here, but what I'm thinking of is that difference you mentioned, Father, of over six hundred horses. We know we're stronger than anyone else suspects. I'll be surprised if we have less than seven thousand souls living in the Colony, scattered throughout our camps and farms?" It was a question, but neither of them reacted.
"Do you agr
ee? About seven thousand, counting women and children?"
My father nodded. "Aye, that many at least. Our numbers have been growing steadily for years. We have more than two thousand here in Camulod itself, within and around the walls. We've always concentrated on our strength—our ability to defend ourselves—but in the past few years, what with one thing and another, we seem to have lost sight of numbers."
"What about the records?"
"The fact is no one has checked very closely for some time. The last count I remember placed our numbers around four thousand, but that was some years ago."
"How many years ago?"
"Four, perhaps five. Our main priority at the time was to grow enough food to feed everyone. We cleared more land and recultivated several of the abandoned farms around our perimeter. If you remember, you were worried at the time about the extra patrolling that would be involved."
"I recall it well," I said. "But I think you'll be surprised, when you check our rolls again, at just how much we have grown."
Uther interrupted me. "You've sidetracked yourself, Cay. You were talking about my four hundred cavalry. What was the point you were going to make?"
"That they should stay here, to defend the fort. In the meantime. I'd like to send another thousand horsemen secretly out of the Colony."
"A thousand?"
I shrugged. "They may not all be astride cavalry mounts, but I'll wager we have the horses, and we have the men to ride them. The men won't all be fully equipped, either, but they'll be able to sit on a horse and hold a spear and they'll frighten the spirit out of Lot's army when they appear unexpectedly at their back!" They were both looking at me, their eyes begging to be convinced. "Uther. Where are your four hundred billeted now?"
"Victorex's old place. But we dismissed them for forty- eight hours, remember?"
"Damnation! Well, that's acceptable. They'll stay and be recalled here on duty when their leave is over. Damnation! They are our best. I had hoped to replace them with other, lesser troops, but no matter. When it comes time for them to strike with us they'll be invaluable. Please see that they are back on duty here tomorrow night. I'll raise our extra thousand from the other camps and farms.
