Camulod Chronicles Book 4 - The Saxon Shore

by Whyte, Jack

"Shelagh," I said. "Come, join me."

  She moved back to sit beside me again, taking the cup I offered her. We sat for a spell in silence, and then I asked her the question in my mind.

  "You have no idea of what it means?"

  "No." Her voice was still subdued with the memory of her dream. She looked at me. "Have you?"

  I gusted a sigh. "No, I have not, although there are some elements of it that might make sense, in a demented way."

  "Oh?" Her tone was livelier now, responding to my reference to dementia. "And what are those?"

  "The animals, some of them at least. I myself might be the bear. It is my symbol. But I am only one bear; you saw two and I know of no other. Uther, my cousin, who is dead now, wore the symbol of the dragon, but his was red, not green. Lot, King of Cornwall, whom I believe Uther slew, had for his sign the boar. But there it ends. Of bulls and wolves and eagles I have no knowledge." I sighed again. "It is nonsense. I have the same problem with the dreams I dream, and they are less succinct than yours. Most often, it is only after seeing the things I dreamed about that I become aware of having dreamed at all. You are the only other person I have ever known to share the curse, and I had begun to hope for a moment there, having found you, that your dreams might be more intelligible than mine. Obviously I was wrong." As I spoke, we heard loud voices outside in the rain, and both sat up straighter, almost guiltily. "Here comes your father, so we will speak no more of this tonight," I said. "But if we have the chance, let's talk again when we can do it safely." Shelagh nodded and then rose and left the room hurriedly, exiting through the screens that masked the other end of the dwelling. I crossed idly to the fire again, where I stood gazing into the heart of the blaze, puzzling over Shelagh's dream and awaiting the entry of Liam and Donuil.

  When they stomped in, muffled in close-wrapped cloaks and dripping wet, I eyed them closely, seeing the failure of their mission in their bearing and the air of weary frustration that hung about them.

  "Oh, you're still here?" Liam began to unwind the cloak from about his shoulders as Donuil barred the heavy door behind them.

  "Aye, are you surprised? You asked me to wait and you have not been gone that long. You didn't find him?"

  Donuil's loud sniff was eloquent, and he crossed in front of me to spit violently into the fire before responding otherwise. "No," he growled then. "No sign of him. We might have passed him in the dark, lying dead or unconscious somewhere, but I doubt it. There were six of us and we searched thoroughly, though we were damnably hampered by the rain and mud. I think he's gone."

  "Gone? Gone where? Shelagh says he is a creature of habit, never known to change his settled ways."

  "And Shelagh's right, he is," Liam put in. "But even cattle can change their habits." He dropped the last of his sodden outer garments and crossed directly to the table where the mead sat in its jug, then poured out two fresh cups, looking at me with a raised brow to see if I would have some. I shook my head and he busied himself in bringing a cup to Donuil, who still stared into the fire. "The problem is," Liam went on, "that once a bullock or a cow changes its pattern, a mere man has little chance of understanding the change, or predicting its outcome." He sipped his drink loudly, then gasped in appreciation of the silken warmth of the mead.

  "So? Are you saying he has absconded?"

  Liam looked at me with a small, bitter smile. "Absconded? To where? No, Master Merlyn, I am saying merely that we were unable to find him. He might have wandered farther from his path than is his habit. If he did, and if he is to be found at all, it will have to wait until daylight. We will sleep now for a few hours, and search again at daybreak."

  "I'll come with you."

  His eyes travelled the length of me, from head to toe, and he smiled. "Not in those clothes, you won't."

  I had forgotten how I was dressed, and now I returned his smile. "Of course not," I agreed. "I'll return before you leave."

  "I don't think you should, Cay," Donuil muttered, almost inaudibly.

  I looked at him in surprise. "Why not? Another pair of eyes will aid your search."

  "We have no shortage of pairs of eyes. I'd rather you stayed here. There's something wrong, something beyond the loss of Rud."

  I looked quickly to Liam and saw his gaze sharpen, his brow furrow as he seemed to lean towards Donuil. "What do you mean?" I asked, though my eyes remained fixed on Liam.

  Donuil turned now to face me. "I don't know what I mean. But something is amiss, I feel it in my belly. Rud's vanishing is one thing, perhaps easily explained. We will know quickly, come morning. But in the meantime, something else is nagging at me, annoying me, something I ought to know, yet have missed seeing in the passing."

  I heard a sound behind me as Shelagh came back into the room, and when she spoke I knew she had overheard what Donuil said. "You think there are enemies out there?"

  Donuil looked at her and shrugged. "There could be. Have you ever felt yourself being watched, Cay?"

  Shelagh answered for me. "By whom?"

  "By someone, or some animal, that remains hidden."

  I immediately recalled the feeling I had had the first time I discovered my brother Ambrose watching me, in Verulamium before we met face to face.

  "I know that feeling," I replied. "It is unmistakable."

  "Aye, well I had it tonight, while we were searching in the forest."

  "Pshaw!" Liam's voice sounded relieved somehow, as though some kind of tension had been removed from it. "That was mere night nerves! I felt something of the like myself, but it was only because, even with our torches, the place was black as the pit. 'Twas nerves, nothing more."

  "No, Liam, it was not. I know the difference. The lad who left here five years ago has grown up now, and can distinguish between fear and fancy. I felt we were being watched."

  "By whom, then, lad? Who would be watching us, rooting about there in the dark? Rud himself, unwilling to be found?"

  Donuil shrugged helplessly, looking to me for aid, but I had not been there. I could only shake my head. "I don't know, Donuil, but say you were right, and you were being watched, who could it have been, apart from Rud? An enemy? A single enemy? What could he hope to achieve, other than being caught? Did you look about you?"

  "Of course I did! But it was pitch black. I could see nothing."

  "Even with a torch?"

  He frowned. "What d'you mean?"

  Now it was my turn to shake my head. "Foolishness. I was about to ask how anyone could have seen any more than you, lacking a torch, but of course he could have watched you by your light and you would have been flame blind, peering into the darkness . . . which means, I suppose, there could have been someone there."

  "Who, in the name of all the swarming gods?" Liam's exasperation was growing and it was his daughter who answered him, her tone cutting through his impatience.

  "It doesn't matter who, Father. If there was someone out there, and the possibility cannot be overlooked, then he was no friend of ours. If no friend, there remains only an enemy, there in the forest close to us in darkness, waiting for light. If that's the case, we have until dawn to prepare ourselves."

  "Aye, but—"

  "No buts, Father. There's either someone out there or there isn't. If there is, it could be a whole host, a raid in force. If no one's there, we will all have an early start in our search for Rud. Either way we'll be prepared for whatever comes with the day."

  "Damn me, Daughter, think what you say. The only people who could be out there are the Wild Ones from the south, and they lack the skills and even the discipline to do what you suggest they're doing. They never could—"

  "Och, hold your tongue, Father!" Shelagh's voice cracked like a whip. "You're wasting time when we have none to waste. If I am wrong you'll have all day to tell me so tomorrow; for now, I'm thinking Donuil could be right." She spoke now to Donuil. "Go to your father. Tell him what is in your mind. Have him make ready, but be sure to warn him of the need for stealth. If there are enemies out ther
e preparing a surprise for us, foolish we'd be to warn them we suspect it." She swung to me. "Merlyn, we could have need of you and your horses. Will you stand with us?"

  I smiled at her, seeing clearly her father's sometime dilemma as to whether he had sired son or daughter. "Your peril is ours, Lady. Of course we stand with you. I'll go right now and prepare my men."

  "Go then, but wait a while before you have them prepare. We still have several hours of darkness and nothing will occur before daylight. No one can fight well in the dark. Whoever is out there will be terrified when you and your beasts appear. They could not have seen you before now. Any approach before nightfall would have been detected by our people, so if they are there indeed, they must have approached after dark, in the secrecy of night. Early they might have been, which would explain their finding Rud, but that would have yet been distant from our walls. Now go, both of you. I must arm myself. Father, the king will need you, too, for your counsel."

  We three men left together, taking our separate ways immediately, Donuil and Liam to the King's Hall and I towards my own camp outside the gates. The rain had stopped finally, but the ground was wet and slippery underfoot and I had to place my feet with care. The settlement lay dark and quiet around me, no lights discernible in any of the huddled, night-still dwellings. I made my way to the main gates without seeing another sign of life, and as I passed through, I heard the deep, even sounds of snoring against the wall to my left. A sleeping guard? I had not been aware of seeing any gate guards since we arrived, and I had assumed, I realized only now, that outposts ranged the forest. From what I had learned tonight, however, I knew now that that was not the case. On impulse, I sought the source of the snores and found one man huddled at the foot of the wall, dead to the world. As I leaned over him, I caught the smell of ale and vomit. No guard, this. I left him where he lay and passed out through the open gateway.

  "Hold!" The challenge, peremptory yet not too loud, came as I approached the huddle of seven empty huts outside the walls, used for some summer purpose I had not defined, that had become our camp. I recognized the voice of Philip, the youngest of our band apart from Donuil. For as long as I had known him, more than fifteen years, he had been called Philip Broken Nose for reasons none could miss. A blow from a wooden practice sword had flattened his eagle beak forever when he was a mere lad.

  "Philip, it's me, Merlyn. Is everyone abed?"

  He emerged from the shadows beneath the eaves of one of the huts. "Merlyn. You're late afoot. We've been turned in for hours, since darkness fell. Too miserable a night even for drinking. Mine is the second watch, relieving Rufio. Is something wrong?"

  "Perhaps, perhaps not, but I'm glad everyone has had some sleep. Has your watch been quiet?"

  "Aye, yours was the first movement I have seen or heard since coming out here. What's up?"

  "I don't really know, but Donuil should be coming in a while. We may or may not be receiving visitors come dawn. Either way, we should be prepared. Stay alert." I left him to his watch and went directly to Dedalus, who awoke as I approached his cot. I told him briefly of Rud's disappearance, and of Donuil's misgivings, and he swung up out of bed, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his face and eyes "Are we beset, then? How long do we have?"

  "Until dawn. If there's to be an attack it won't come until then. There's no moon tonight, and heavy clouds. Too dark to see, too dark to fight."

  "Hmm. What hour is it, anyway? Who's on watch out there? Philip? Good, his is the second watch. That means there's four and more hours of darkness left. Have you been to bed?" I shook my head. He yawned and stretched, grunting with pleasure. "Well, you had better try to sleep, then, if you can. I'll let the others lie for another hour, then get them ready. I'll wake you in good time." He paused, frowning. "If Donuil's right, Merlyn, and there's an enemy out there, waiting to come in with the first light, where will we deploy ourselves? We can't go charging off into the forest; we would all be unhorsed before we saw anything. The only space open enough for us to fight in is right here, outside the gates."

  "True," I said. "So our task will be to wait until the attackers swarm around the gates, then hit them from behind. I'll sleep two hours, if I can, but no more. Wake me then."

  I left him moving around in the darkness of the hut and made my way to my own cot, convinced that sleep would be impossible to achieve.

  I was wrong. Two hours later, Rufio had to shake me hard to bring me back to awareness, though I collected myself quickly enough, once stirred.

  "Everything's prepared," he told me. "Dedalus and the others are fully armed and the horses ready and safely out of sight in the empty huts."

  I was sitting up by that time, looking around the interior of the hut in the light of two lamps. The shutters were closed tight over the windows, so I knew no light would spill outside. "Whose idea was that, to hide the horses? That was good thinking."

  Rufio grinned at me. "Mine. I was talking to Ded, and we guessed that whoever is out there might not have seen us or our horses, if they sneaked in here after darkness fell. Remember when we arrived? We were the first horsemen these people had ever seen."

  "I know. Old Liam's daughter Shelagh pointed out the same thing to me last night, when first we heard of this alarum. Did Donuil arrive?"

  "Aye, not long after you had gone to sleep. Said to tell you that his father's people are prepared, but will give no signs of life until the attack begins. The gates lie open, too, he said, though forces are in place to close them quickly once the attack begins. In the meantime, they are an invitation to tempt invasion."

  "Good; Athol's thinking matches my own. What's that?" I had noticed a leather washbag steaming at the foot of my bed, where it hung from a wooden tripod, and could not take my eyes away from it. "Hot water? Is that for me?"

  Rufio was grinning still. "Aye, to wash in. Ded again. He said if you had less than two hours' sleep you wouldn't be fit to walk unless you had the chance to wash the sleep out of your weary face. Personally, I think he spoils you." He walked to the door. "Take your time. We have about an hour, perhaps more, before first light. But remember, we may have to fight, so tighten all your buckles properly . . ." He left, still grinning at his own wit, and I moved to the steaming water.

  A short time later, feeling alive again and fully refreshed, I fastened the final buckles on my armour, took up my long, sheathed sword and carried it in my hand as I went to join the others in the largest hut, which had been selected as our gathering place when we arrived. They were all there, waiting for me, and I greeted each man personally. When I had done, Dedalus waved me towards an empty stool beside a table that held a partial loaf of bread, a bowl of roasted grain, a morsel of hard cheese, four withered apples and a cup of water, weakly flavoured with vinum, the harsh, red wine for which we had inherited a taste from Rome's legions. "That's the last of the vinum," he said, as I picked the cup up and sniffed it. "From now on, it's water or Eirish ale."

  As I broke fast, we discussed strategies for dealing with whatever might befall. Fundamentally, as Ded had pointed out three hours before, our choices were limited by geography. We could not fight among dense undergrowth, nor would our horses be of any tactical advantage within the settlement. We were confined, therefore, to the open space before the gates. If we had to fight, Quintus would be sequestered in the farthest hut, guarded by the two herdboys while we were gone. That settled, we spent the intervening time before dawn as soldiers do, talking among ourselves and preparing ourselves, each in his own way, for the death that might lie in wait for us.

  At length the door opened and Paulus, Philip's relief, came inside to join us in concealment, warning us that the sky was showing signs of lightening. We rose and made our way to our horses, moving in silence broken only by the muffled squeaks, chinks and clinks of harness and weaponry. We did not mount, but remained there in the darkened huts, each man holding his own horse's bridle, waiting for a signal, a summons of some kind in the stillness of the dawn. When one came, it
was not at all what we expected. There came a stealthy movement outside the door of the hut in which we stood, and then a fumbling at the latch. Everyone froze. A breathless, anticipatory pause, and then the door swung inward, revealing a hulking shape in the doorway against gathering light outside. Someone, I knew not who, moved swiftly forward, grasping the shape and jerking it into the room, then swinging, pushed it against the wall inside the door. These movements were accompanied by a grunt, the metallic scraping of a dagger being unsheathed and then the sound of a blade being hammered home into a torso.

  "Commander, take this!" As the whispered words hissed in my ear I felt a set of reins being pressed against my hand and seized it as a second shape loomed in the open doorway, peering in. Then I saw Rufio, whose voice it had been, lunge forward, dagger-wielding arm above his head, to bear this fellow backward and to death. The doorway was now filled with figures, hampering each other at first as they sought to leave. I heard the clang of blade against blade in the air outside, and then a chorus of shouts and the sounds of hand-to-hand fighting.

  "Out! Bring out the horses!" someone yelled, and I moved forward, Rufio's bridle in my left fist, my own in my right. I released Rufio's horse to follow me and led my own horse out. There were figures struggling everywhere, evidently more of them than us, and I decided I would do more good above than I might on foot. I seized my saddle horn and hopped on my right foot, finding the stirrup with my left on my first attempt and hauling myself up above the ruck. My long blade cleared its sheath as my right foot housed itself in the other stirrup and I pulled my horse up into a rearing turn, seeking a target. They were there in plenty. One tall, lanky fellow stood agape close on my right, his sword arm arrested as he stared up at me in stupefaction, and I clove his skull with my first swing, even before my mount touched all four feet to earth again. Rufio, his horse directly behind him to my left, was unable to mount, facing three men, and I kneed my way towards him, riding them down, then guarding him until he could swing up to his own saddle. Ded, too, was having trouble reaching his seat, using his horse as a barrier between himself and four feral assailants, one of whom began to dodge around the horse only to meet death at the end of Rufio's blade. I pulled my horse into a rear again and he kicked out, as he was trained to do, braining another. Rufio's horse breasted the other two aside, and Ded was mounted, shouting his thanks. Philip was up, too, as were two others, leaving only two, one of whom was Donuil, still afoot.