by Whyte, Jack
The young man stood up, snapped to attention, saluted me crisply and left. All of us watched him go.
"Well, gentlemen, I now concur with your decision not to sound a General Muster at this time. The question we must answer now is what do we do next? I am open to suggestions. Ambrose? Cato? Anyone?"
Dedalus responded with a question. "Are we at war, then, Commander, with the Pendragon?"
"Certainly not!" My retort, stung from me by the suddenness of the question, from him of all people, was too angry. I moderated my tone immediately. "You should know better than even to phrase such a question, Ded. The Pendragon are our allies and our friends."
Ded was unimpressed and undaunted. "Perhaps," he murmured, but his softly spoken words were clearly heard by everyone. "But it strikes me there are fifty lads from Camulod lying cold out there in Calibri who might think otherwise."
Before I could respond to that, Ambrose intervened. "That is true, Captain Dedalus," he drawled. "But there are also fifteen of King Uther's bowmen asleep at this moment, here beneath our roof. They came to us in friendship, offering us their skills to use until such time as order is restored in their home lands. And should you care to count, you would find, I am quite sure, well upward of a hundred more about and throughout our domain, living in amity among our people. Are we at war, so suddenly, with these? Or should we look at numbers only? A hundred living here, at least, and a hundred Celtic raiders, arguably Pendragon. Shall we then say we are at war with half the Pendragon, but that the other half are still our friends and allies and thus we will fight husbands and spare wives? Or kill fathers and recruit sons?"
Dedalus shrugged and grinned and spread his hands, dipping his head in unrepentant acceptance. "You are talking sense, Ambrose, and that is all I wanted to hear. From the moment I saw those cut-off arrow shafts, I've had a nasty feeling in my guts. Now I feel better, having heard you say I'm not the only one with doubts about the wisdom of reacting too soon and too thoughtlessly."
My sudden impatience had dissipated while both men spoke, and now I picked up the flask of mead again.
"We have much to discuss, gentlemen," I said to the assembly. "Normally, I would forbid drinking at a time like this, but this is far from normal and I have but the one small flask; a sip or two for each of us. Dedalus, break out the cups from the chest there and pour for everyone, and, Rufio, replenish the fire in the brazier there. It's almost out. In the meantime, we should all sit down. There are sufficient chairs and stools in the other rooms close by. Please make yourselves comfortable."
I used the interval while everyone was occupied with drinks and seating to arrange my thoughts.
By the time stillness had fallen in the Watch Room once again and all eyes had returned to me, I had taken up the severed arrow shafts from the table and held them fanned in front of me, examining their bloody points, to some of which dried, clotted matter still adhered. They were evil-looking things when viewed so closely, their points razor-sharp and their barbs wickedly fashioned so that, once lodged, they locked and could be withdrawn only by main force, torn out with great attendant tissue damage. Someone cleared his throat nervously, and I looked up from my examination.
"Young Maripo was right, my friends. The death of the first Camulodian trooper from one of these weapons signalled a drastic change in the way we must wage war from now on. This was the first time our men faced the Pendragon longbow, but it will not be the last. Weapons like these, in skillful hands in a concerted attack, could wreak havoc among us. They render us impotent. There is no safety, in our current tactics, against shafts like these." No one presumed to speak, so I continued. "The question facing us is whether or not the Pendragon people, allies and friends for more than fifty years, must now be considered otherwise." I waited, but still no one was willing to add his comment to my own.
"Pendragon longbows have been used against us. This evidence is undeniable." I dropped the arrow shafts, letting them clatter on the tabletop. "But who used them, and how must we respond?" I looked around the room, catching each man's eye.
"We must respond, be very sure of that. Failure to do so would invite disastrous consequences. But how must we respond, and when, and in what strength?" I nodded my head, indicating Dedalus. "You all heard Ded's comments. He is unsure of how to proceed, as I am, but I have no doubt our basic feelings are alike. And you heard Ambrose speak of Huw Strongarm and his companions. As you all know, or should know, they left their homes to join us here because they have chosen not to live there any longer, with matters as they are. Uther's kingdom is torn by civil war. Contenders for his powers swarm everywhere and the common people know neither whom to trust, nor where to turn for succour. Strongarm himself, with his own force, was impotent in his own home, too new-arrived to be able to compete with already vested powers. He called his homeland a nest of rats, referring to the power-hungry who fight among themselves for domination. He said, too, that the pride his people have borne throughout their lives, of being Pendragon, has been blasted like a tree in a thunderstorm. I heard those very words from his own mouth."
During the pause that followed I was conscious of every eye in the group being fixed on mine.
"When I hear words like those being spoken by a man like Huw Strong- arm, I listen very carefully, and I think deeply on what caused them to be said. Now I really would appreciate some contribution to this monologue."
The only one to speak was Dedalus, again. "None of us can improve on what you have said so far, Merlyn, so speak on." The others grunted, or nodded, each in his own way supporting Dedalus.
"Very well then. It seems to me that we might simply have received a visitation from a single group of big Huw Strongarm's rats, ranging for a time far from their nest. We may never know what brought them to our lands or why they came, but they left with our horses, and those horses will destroy them, because where we find our horses we will have found our killers. And find them we will, by simply following their tracks into their hills, then searching farther.
"Tomorrow we will mend our own internal wounds and use the deaths of fifty of our own to make a poultice that will drain the poison from our military corpus, knitting its flesh into a whole, new body. The following day we will send out a force in strength, a thousand men, both horse and foot, to act in concert and avenge our fifty dead. Huw Strongarm and his men will ride with them. This force will be commanded either by me or by my brother Ambrose, and will serve a set of purposes, each of them hewn to fit a special need." I tallied them upon my fingers as I named them. "One, the most immediate and obvious, is to avenge our comrades and regain our missing horses. Two, it is time we showed our force in the north and west, reminding everyone up there that we are here and that we will accept no interference in our lives or in our welfare." I looked from Dedalus to Rufio. "Three, we will pass by Glevum, which is presently infested with another nest of rats, this time come recently from either Africa or the Berber Coast. Whichever, they are aliens and invaders and they constitute a threat to our domain. They must be cleaned out. Four, the expedition will enable us to glean current knowledge of the state of affairs in Cambria, particularly in the kingdom of Pendragon. We will seek no conflict there, other than with the group who raided us, but we will go there in sufficient strength to discourage any bibulous hothead who might seek to detain us. And five, the last but perhaps the most important, the expedition will give us the opportunity to put our new resolve for unity into effect. The cavalry will ride as escort to the infantry. They will not range ahead, save in emergency conditions."
I stopped again, awaiting comment, but there was none. I had a point to make, however. "Does anyone here object to any element of this proposal? You may speak out if you do. Dissent's permissible at this point, for your concerns may be valid and merit further discussion . . . Anyone?" I looked around me slowly, eyeing each man directly. None showed any concern. "Good! Then may I suggest we adjourn until the morning's scheduled meeting? There is nothing more to be done this night, an
d our troops should be arriving back throughout the morning. Goodnight, gentlemen." I stayed them with an upraised palm, however, before anyone could even begin to rise.
"Wait!" I had seen Dedalus grinning wickedly and shaking his head. Everyone stopped moving. "Captain Dedalus, you seem amused. Are you?"
His grin widened, but lost its ferocity and changed to one of good humour. "No, Commander, not at all; an errant thought occurred to me, that's all."
"Would you care to share it with us?" Ded knew as well as I did that the request was a command. He sniffed and grunted.
"Well, Commander, it occurred to me that an expeditionary force like the one you described might serve a more ambitious end, particularly were it even stronger than the thousand you decreed . . . With Uther's Cambria a nest of fighting rats and splintered factions, and the common people groaning for relief from civil war, it seemed to me they might be more than glad to welcome their allies from Camulod, and Camulod might quickly gain a new province at little cost. . ."
By the time he had said his opening words I was prepared for him. "A new province. To what end. Captain Dedalus?" I asked, governing my voice carefully to sound dismissive rather than patronising. "Simple conquest? Far from simple. And what would constitute your 'little cost'? Think about what you are saying, my friend. Conquest entails governance afterward; a garrison of occupation and the chronic risk of rebellion against our presence. As things stand, we barely have enough men under arms today to tend our own outposts. That is why we are here tonight, remember?" I laughed, shaking my head in what I hoped would pass as tolerant amazement. "By all the old gods, Ded, I sometimes wonder where your cynicism will lead you. This is Camulod! Do you truly believe, deep down inside yourself, that we could thrive on conquest, or might even wish to seek it? Unity is strength, Ded, and our unity is imperilled today by the rift within our own troops. Think how much worse it might be were half those troops—the disaffected half—ensconced in Cambria and fortified by mountains."
Dedalus grinned again and shrugged elaborately. "As I said, Commander, it was but an errant thought. I had dismissed it—for all those same reasons— when you noticed me smiling. Now I'm glad that you concur with me."
His outrageous impudence brought a storm of laughter and the meeting broke up immediately with good-natured muttering and smiles. I turned to thank Achmed Cato, who yet had several hours of duty ahead of him, and then found Ambrose by my elbow.
"What are you going to do now?" I asked him.
"I'm going back to my cot, what else? I'd been asleep for barely half an hour when I was summoned. What about you?"
I thought about that. I was not even slightly tired. "Records," I said. "I've been asleep for hours, ever since I got back, but I have not made an entry to my journal in weeks. An hour or two of that will make me tired again and bring me close to dawn. Is everything prepared for tomorrow's proceedings?"
"Aye. The camp on the plain has been prepared and everything is ready. Dedalus will speak to the troops."
"Dedalus? Are you serious, Ambrose?"
"Think of it, Cay; Ded is the perfect man for this task on this day, a well- known and respected veteran and one of our senior field commanders, popular with all the men, both cavalry and infantry, yet known for his ferocious discipline. When he talks, the men will listen, and they'll hear what he is saying more clearly than they would were it you or I addressing them. We are relative outsiders at this time, the two of us; I because I am a new arrival, and you because you've been so long 'away' in terms of your illness. Ded is one of them, and they love him."
It took me several long moments to accept and digest the truth, but I accepted it completely in the end. "So be it, then. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."
XXII
As I made my way back to my quarters my mind was filled with apprehension at how suddenly a potential war with the Pendragon had developed. It had seemed inconceivable to me, before that night, that enmity could spring up, for any reason, where such warmth had once prevailed between my own people here in Camulod and those others, equally my own, in my cousin Uther's kingdom. My single source of satisfaction from the experience of the past hour lay in my growing appreciation of my brother's perspicacity and natural leadership, and that had been an incidental, almost irrelevant awareness. I found myself praying that Ambrose would have no cause to demonstrate those skills in civil war.
I was crossing the torchlit entranceway of the Praesidium heading down into the darkened courtyard on the way to my own quarters, when I heard my name called and turned to see a heavily cloaked figure waving to me from the other side of the walkway. It was Lucanus, swathed in a long, black cloak like my own. He told me he was on his way to the Infirmary, where the wife of one of the Colonists was in labour and not expected to have an easy time. This would be the woman's third child, he told me, and each of the other two had been breech presentations, causing great difficulties for the mother and resulting in the deaths of both children. This time, Lucanus informed me, he was prepared to deliver the child the way Julius Caesar had been birthed, by cutting it alive from the mother's womb. I shuddered at the thought and for a spell we walked side by side in silence. It seemed to me that the night had grown colder while I was in the Watch Room with the others, and I said so to Lucanus. He agreed with me and muttered something about it being cold enough for snow, at which I scoffed, pointing out that we were only in November. We arranged to meet again later and spend some time together, and I left him at the entrance to the Infirmary, then hurried on to my own quarters, glad to find a brazier still glowing in the darkened room. It took me mere moments to blow on the coals and light a spill with which I lit an array of candles. I replenished the fire, and only then unfastened my cloak and hung it from a peg.
I lost track of time very quickly, caught up in the absorbing task of bringing my daily journal up to date from the brief notes I had written during the past few weeks. My Eirish recollections were exactly that—recollections. I had had neither writing materials nor time in Eire for recording events and ideas, even though I was aware at all times how important such a record might prove to be. Now, in the darkness of this single night, I emptied my mind of all my memories of the voyage, committing them to paper. Twice, I recall, I rose to throw more fuel on the fire, spurred in each instance by the chill that numbed the fingers of my writing hand.
Ambrose finally interrupted me, timing his arrival perfectly to coincide with my own decision to call an end to my efforts. The door burst open suddenly and he was there, admitting the pearly radiance of early day and a blast of cold air together.
"Thought you might still be here. It's time to eat," he said, by way of greeting. "Come and see this."
"This" was a scattering of snow upon the paving outside my door. I looked, and shivered, and went back inside, digesting the implications of this dusting of whiteness as I struggled to pull on my heavy cloak.
"That's wonderful, simply wonderful," I snarled in disgust. "All we really need, this day of all days, is snow! With an expedition to organize and a full parade to conduct in the meantime. Everyone is going to be enchanted."
Ambrose had been squinting up at the sky as I spoke, and now he began to stride towards the refectory. I fell into step beside him. "It was probably no more than an early flurry," he answered me, after a few moments. "It is only November, after all. Had it not been for this sudden cold snap, it would have fallen as rain. It'll pass over and clear up and what's here will melt, so there's no point in fretting about it. I'm hungry."
We turned a corner and a sudden blast of icy wind cut through me as though I were naked. I cursed aloud, feeling put upon and abused. "What if it doesn't?" I complained. "What if the damned snow stays?"
"Then there's no point in fretting about that either, is there? If it stays, it stays. We'll have a chilly parade this afternoon, in that case, but providing no more falls, the expedition can proceed as planned." He stopped walking suddenly and swung to face me, his face splitting
into a giant smile. "But what if it really snows, eh? Think of that! What if it snows and snows and drifts and blows? Then we will all be stuck here until it thaws, save for the poor swine who must return to man the outposts before the storm really sets in. But we'll be safe, because our inability to move will be duplicated everywhere. The high hills and passes will be snowbound and blocked off, and the forest roads will be impassable."
I frowned at him, unable to grasp what he was saying, hearing only his evident delight about being walled within the fort by snow. "So what?" I asked him, finally. "Would you enjoy such enforced idleness?"
"Idleness? Opportunity, Cay! I won't go as far as to say I'd enjoy it, but by Cod, I could certainly put it to good use. A solid block of time, free of all outside threat, to solidify the changes we intend to make, and give all our people time to work together on the new order? Don't tell me you would not be grateful for such a godsend."
I would have been, of course, but I had not made the connection as quickly or as intuitively as he had. My admiration of the focused way his mind worked increased yet again. I glanced back to the sky, this time almost with regret. "Now that you point it out, I would. But as you say, it's still only November. This snow is two months early. I doubt that we could be so fortunate as to have it stay now, when we could use it so effectively. Let's hurry, I'm hungry now, too."
The refectory was chaotic that morning, a maelstrom of screaming cooks and running lackeys, all grossly overtaxed by the demands of having to feed so many people at one time and within hours. By the time we re-emerged from it, however, having exercised our privilege of rank and broken our fast on fresh-baked bread and tender, succulent meat cut for us by one of the senior cooks from a spitted, broiling carcass that would be served cold later that day, we were both feeling vastly improved. There was activity everywhere and the evidence of the increased presence of our troops was unmistakable, with work parties hurrying hither and yon under the watchful eyes of those in charge, and an air of irrepressible gaiety widespread, in spite of the biting cold. Great piles of fuel had been stacked close to every firepit on the summit outside the walls and even, on this one auspicious occasion, against the interior surfaces of the walls themselves wherever there was space not yet occupied by buildings. They would be needed, too, for the day seemed to be growing colder by the moment.
