by Isaac Asimov
“I see shops, stables, and taverns,” said Hunter, looking up the length of the streets in each direction.
“Only the taverns are still open for business, however. This is a village in a civilized society. It also has nothing in common with the villages we saw in ancient Germany, which belonged to a primarily hunting and gathering society.”
“Roman Britain was something of an outpost in the Roman Empire,” said Harriet. “However, London, York, and Bath were established as Roman bases — modest by the standards of the Mediterranean, but civilized urban areas in comparison to the earlier British Celtic villages. Cadbury Tor has evolved from an older country village to something of a town, obviously because of Artorius bringing power and wealth to the area.”
“Jane could be here,” said Steve. “Wouldn’t Ishihara want to get Wayne and Jane some good shelter like this?”
“Yes,” said Hunter. “For tonight, however, we must do the same. Our search can begin tomorrow.”
“Lead the way,” said Steve.
Hunter approached a quiet tavern. Inside, several men sat at tables drinking. Some wore leather jerkins and leggings similar to those of the sentries. Others wore woolen tunics like Hunter’s and Steve’s. A short, gaunt innkeeper limped forward to look up at Hunter.
“Yes, friend?”
“We seek lodging for the night,” said Hunter. “For my wife and me and our servant.”
“Show me your money.”
“How much do you want for the rooms?”
“That will depend on whose money you carry.”
“Roman coins from Gaul.” Hunter opened the pouch at his belt and spilled some coins into one hand. He held out his palm so the other man could see them. “Mostly copper. Some silver. No gold.”
“No gold, eh?” The innkeeper scowled at the money. “Five silvers.”
“For one room?” Hunter shook his head. “Two coppers, friend.”
“Four silvers, then.”
Hunter closed his fist around the coins. “We have traveled far. Two coppers is a fair price.”
“Find it elsewhere, then, if you can.”
“Very well.” Hunter turned abruptly and strode toward the door.
Steve and Harriet moved outside ahead of him. Just as they got outside, however, the innkeeper hustled after them. At the sound of his footsteps, they turned.
“Four coppers,” called the innkeeper. “For our friends from across the Channel. A special price.”
Steve grinned. “I showed Hunter how to bargain on earlier missions,” he whispered to Harriet.
“Three coppers,” said Hunter.
“For a room with two feather beds,” Harriet whispered. “On the ground floor, with a fireplace.”
“I have no such room with a fireplace of its own,” said the innkeeper, glancing at her.
“Two coppers, then,” said Hunter.
“Three coppers for a room with two beds and a bar on the door,” said the innkeeper. “On the ground floor near the back door to the latrine.”
“Very well,” said Hunter. He dropped three copper coins into the man’s open palm.
“Welcome, friends. Come inside.” The innkeeper stepped aside and swung his arm toward the door.
Hunter accepted. Harriet and Steve followed him back inside. Some of the men drinking at the tables glanced up again, but without much interest.
The innkeeper picked up a stub of candle on a small dish and led them down a narrow hallway. He opened the door to a small room and swung it back. Then he stepped out again.
Steve glanced around. The two beds nearly filled the room, leaving only a small space between them. A long, narrow shelf ran along the wall from the doorway. This room was intended for sleeping, no more.
“It is acceptable,” said Hunter. “In the morning, I expect bowls of water for washing.”
“As you wish. Sleep well, friends.” The innkeeper handed him the candle dish and left.
Steve drew back the covers to one bed. “Well, it looks clean enough.” He pushed on the pallet. “Straw, not feathers. It’ll be scratchy.”
Harriet laughed lightly. “I trust we’ll survive the night somehow.”
“I will spend the night by the door, on guard,” said Hunter. “Do you need anything outside the room before I bar it for the night?”
“Yeah,” said Steve, with a grin. “A quick trip out to the latrine. And don’t bar it before I get back, either.”
“Of course I will not.” Hunter sounded puzzled.
“That was a joke, Hunter.”
When Steve returned, Hunter barred the door and touched the candlewick lightly with one finger to put it out. As the humans got into bed, he listened for any sounds suggesting danger and heard none. He remained alert throughout the night, motionless to conserve his energy.
Morning arrived without incident. When Hunter heard footsteps elsewhere in the inn, he went out and repeated his request for bowls of water from the innkeeper for Harriet and Steve. By the time the innkeeper fetched water from the cistern and Hunter returned to the room, both Harriet and Steve were up and dressed.
Soon they went to the dining area in the front. Steve brought the team’s bag with him, since they had not paid for a second night in the room. The men from the night before were not there, but two other men in woolen tunics sat hunched over bowls of hot cereal. The fire in the fireplace had gone out.
“Remember to speak British,” Hunter whispered in that language. “We will be overheard and we want to sound as though we belong.”
“As you wish.” Harriet drew in a deep breath. “Ah, feel that brisk spring air again. I love it.”
“I’m hungry,” said Steve, moving to an empty table. “This one okay?”
“Of course,” said Hunter.
The innkeeper hurried out to greet them and offered breakfast. In the daylight, he took a second glance at Steve in surprise, but said nothing. For breakfast, he served wooden bowls of hot oatmeal and herbal tea. He also brought out a small dish of honey for flavoring.
“It’s quite familiar,” said Harriet, inhaling the steam rising from the oatmeal. “I suppose oatmeal and honey haven’t changed a great deal over the years.”
“It’s good,” said Steve. “Not that I like oatmeal much. Good enough, though.”
“I reviewed my conversation with the sentries at the outer gate,” said Hunter. “While my claim to be a horse breeder and trader got us inside the tor, I now believe that Steve is correct that this will not bring us to an audience with Artorius. Without horses to show a prospective buyer, the pose will no longer be useful.”
“At least we’re inside.” Steve shrugged. “Maybe we can just hang around here in the village and ask for people of Jane’s and MC 6’s descriptions.”
“I prefer to act more aggressively,” said Hunter. “Harriet, we discussed some other possible social roles before we left. Would you suggest another?”
“Well, you didn’t want to be soldiers because that might be more dangerous to Steve,” said Harriet.
“But without other supplies to bring Artorius — food, armor, or weapons, mainly — that’s the best way to get the attention of a military commander. You could start by joining up and then look for an opportunity to meet him.”
“Hold it.” Steve swallowed and put down his spoon. “I have another problem with this. I learned the hard way in the Caribbean that I’m no fighter.”
“Really?” Harriet turned to him. “What happened, may I ask?”
“I tried fighting a couple of times.” Grinning, Steve shook his head. “One guy almost carved me up with a rapier, but someone interrupted us. Running around on deck during a boarding was even crazier. And what kind of soldier can Hunter be? He’s not allowed to harm humans.”
“Our goal does not require fighting,” said Hunter. “We simply want to be involved in life around Artorius, where MC 6 will probably appear. Harriet, how soon will Artorius go to war again?”
“That’s hard to say,”
she said slowly. “In a sense, despite short-term truces and treaties, Britain is more or less in a state of ongoing war between Britons and Saxons.”
“Can you make any sort of calculated estimate about when the next campaign will begin?” Hunter asked.
“Let me think out loud for a moment. The earliest chronicles don’t give the years in which battles took place, let alone months and days. The odds are, however, that none ever took place here at Artorius’s capital, or that fact would have been mentioned.”
“If he has to march somewhere else for battle, we’ll have plenty of warning,” said Steve.
“Most of the battle sites were vague,” said Harriet. “Some are completely unknown, but Artorius will certainly have to go out on campaign to reach them.”
“Hunter.” Steve switched to English and spoke in a whisper. “For this subject, we can’t risk being understood by anyone else. If Artorius goes out on campaign while we’re here, are you going to let us desert from his cavalry to avoid getting into a battle?”
“We must always remember that MC 6 is our first goal, but of course I cannot put either of you into more danger than necessary under the First Law.”
“I think you just dodged my question.” Steve grinned wryly. “Can we desert or not?”
“If necessary, I will certainly take you out of danger,” said Hunter.
“That hasn’t always worked out as we’ve planned,” said Steve. “But I’ll go along with this if you really want to.”
“I suggest we also expand on our personal story.” Harriet whispered in English also.
“What do you have in mind?” Hunter asked.
“We should maintain our claim to have traveled from Gaul recently, or we will be branded liars. But in order to explain your desire to fight for Artorius, we should explain that we are Britons.”
“And we just moved to Gaul for a while to live?” Steve asked skeptically. “That sounds a little thin to me.”
“That’s not all,” said Harriet. “I suggest we come from Linnuis, a British district which the Saxons have taken over. This would explain why we were displaced in years past and fled to Gaul when a ship was available. Now we have managed to come back to Britain.”
“I understand,” said Hunter. “This improves our story. Where is Linnuis?”
“Historians believe Linnuis was modern Lincolnshire. It lies on the coast of the North Sea, northeast of here across the width of Britain.”
“We will use this as our story,” said Hunter, speaking British again. “How should we make our attempt to enlist with Artorius?”
“After breakfast, I suggest you ask the sentries at the main gate to the village.”
“Very well,” said Hunter.
“I can hardly believe this.” Steve laughed lightly, still whispering in English. “We rode dinosaurs, sailed with buccaneers, and ambushed Roman legions. We landed in the middle of World War II, met Marco Polo and Kublai Khan, and now we’re going to join King Arthur. Wow.”
7
AFTER BREAKFAST, STEVE followed Hunter and Harriet out of the inn to the street. Merchants had already opened their shops and stalls by now. The village gate stood open and people walked up and down the streets.
Steve liked the idea of accompanying Artorius and his men for a while, as long as no battles with Saxons were involved. He wished Jane could see him join up; she would probably find it funny and she might even be impressed by it. Then his mood dampened as he wondered where she was.
“Hunter,” Steve said, falling into step with him just before they reached the village gate. “How about spreading the word around the village that we’re looking for Jane before we sign up?”
“I can do that,” said Harriet. “While you two enlist, I will spend the day asking about Jane around the village. And I will ask about our missing friend.”
“Will you be safe here?” Hunter asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
“The village is peaceful,” the sentry said. “She will be safe.”
“All right,” said Hunter.
“Here. I’ll carry the bag today. You’ll need your hands free.”
“Thanks.” Steve handed it to her.
“Of course.” Harriet turned and strolled up the street.
Steve shrugged, disappointed.
Different sentries stood by the gate. As Hunter approached, one turned toward him, leaning on his spear.
“Good morning, friend,” said Hunter.
“Fair,” said the sentry.
“My friend and I had to flee our home in Linnuis to escape the Saxons. We would like to fight with Artorius. How do we volunteer?”
“You want to volunteer?” The sentry eyed Steve with curiosity for a moment, saying nothing. Then he turned back to Hunter. “All right, then. Step over here.”
The sentry moved to the middle of the open gateway and pointed. On the steep slope of the tor below, Steve could see forty or fifty armed men milling around. Some were mounted; others walked horses by their reins. From this vantage point, he could also see a pen holding a few other horses on the far side of a storage building.
“Lucius takes the new recruits out every morning,” said the sentry. “They just finished breakfast a short time ago. Go down and ask for Lucius.”
“Thank you,” said Hunter. “If those are the new recruits, where are the others?”
“Most of the veterans have not arrived from their winter homes. Artorius’s personal troop is at leisure today, except for those on patrol.”
“I see.”
Steve and Hunter walked out of the gate and down the cobbled road. The new recruits were slowly mounting and lining up, with several burly men in leather jerkins shouting orders. One man on a large bay waited silently, watching them all. Hunter walked up to him.
“Are you Lucius? We are Hunter and Steve.”
“Yes. What do you want?” Lucius studied Hunter with interest.
“We wish to volunteer and ride with Artorius against the Saxons.”
“Hmm. We can always use a man of your stature, if we have a horse to carry your weight.” Lucius glanced at Steve. “Do you speak our language?”
“Yes, I speak British.”
“From where do you come?”
“From the eastern side of the Roman Empire. We have been in Gaul until recently.”
“Gaul?”
“My wife and I fled Linnuis ahead of the Saxons,” said Hunter. “The three of us arrived here last night.”
“Well, you are no Saxons. Do you ride? Have you fought before?”
“We both can ride,” said Hunter. “However, we have not fought much.”
“Do you have horses?”
“No.”
Lucius frowned. “I feared so. We are always short of good horses.”
“You are taking new recruits,” said Hunter. “Will you take us or not?”
“The personal troop of Artorius has its full complement of three hundred,” Lucius said sternly. “But word has gone out for last year’s veterans to come from their farms and villages. Most of them will have their own mounts and a few may bring new ones, too.” He pointed to the wooden building on the slope behind the new recruits. “I will see if you can ride or not. Go to the tack building and tell the groom to mount you.”
“We have no weapons,” said Hunter.
“The armorer’s store stands on the near side of the building,” said Lucius. “Stop there first and tell him to outfit you. And hurry; we will ride out soon.”
Steve followed Hunter through the crowd of men and horses. Ahead, Steve saw the armorer standing outside a wooden building watching them come. He was a short man with long, gray hair and beard.
When he turned and moved inside the building, he walked with a pronounced limp.
By the time Steve and Hunter reached the building, the armorer had come outside again. He tossed two round wooden shields on the ground in front of them and then dropped two short swords on the shields.
Without a
word, he limped back into the building.
“I guess he knew what we wanted when he saw us coming,” said Steve, picking up a sword and shield.
“No swordbelts or scabbards, though.”
“Roman short swords,” said Hunter. “British shields. I suppose the armor will be made of leather.”
“So it is,” said the armorer gruffly as he came out again. He leaned two spears against the wall of the building. “But not for you, friend. You’re too big. I’ll have to boil a new hide and slap it on you when you ride back this afternoon.”
“Boil it?” Steve asked.
The armorer snickered, revealing broken teeth. “A first-timer, eh? Well, you’ll learn.” He reached inside the door and pulled out a large, rigid piece of leather, about the size and shape of Steve’s torso. It bent at the shoulders, with a hole for his head; the bottom was cut short at the waist. Thongs dangled from holes along each side. “Lace those on.”
Steve slipped it over his head and onto his chest and abdomen. “It’s hard.”
“Boiled leather will turn a blade almost as well as steel,” said the armorer. “It just wears out faster, over time. But if you had the money to buy steel, you’d be wearing it.”
Hunter moved to Steve’s side and began lacing the leather armor on him.
“How do you get the shape?” Steve asked.
“I boil it in a vat of water till it’s nice and soft. Then I slap on your body steaming hot, and you’d better be wearing a tunic when I do.” The armorer grinned. “It takes the shape of your body and cools that way.”
“I see. Uh, what happened to the guy this belonged to before?”
“He died of a fever.” The armorer stepped back inside again and came out with two conical caps.
“Here.” He tossed a cap to each of them.
Steve put on the cap. A leather band inside the rim padded it somewhat. It fit him well enough.
A boy of about ten led two horses up to them, already saddled and bridled.
“The groom saw you coming,” he said shyly to Hunter. “We got you the biggest horse we have.”
“Thank you.” Hunter took the reins and mounted. “He will be fine.”
