by Whyte, Jack
"Emancipatus," I told him, noticing the way the clear, hard Latin sound sat ill in the fluid Eirish tongue I now spoke as well as my former hosts. "It means 'free man,' or rather, 'freed man.' "
"Aye, well, he's freed now, right enough, poor man. I should have liked to meet him, for all that we must leave his people rigid and unburied 'neath the open skies."
As I listened to him utter the words, I realized that Liam was right. We could not bury Mordechai's dead, for a number of reasons, the major of which was the one that had frustrated his own attempt: the hardness of the ground.
And so, in the end, we left them as they were, ranged neatly alongside the open, half-dug pit that should have been their grave, with the rough, barely remembered prayers I could recall as their sole benison.
Later, as I rode behind the wagon, idly watching father and daughter talking together on the driver's bench, I recalled the tenor of what Liam had said and thought about the fate of those sad folk who had been stricken with the leprosy. In my youth, I had heard tell of leprosy and its foulness and had, with shivering detachment, accepted its horrors as described to me. Why should I not? I had seen nothing of it; knew none who suffered from it; thought never to encounter it in my fair life. Some I had heard describe it as God's punishment on evildoers, His scourge on those whose sins were overweening, and in my youthful ignorance and folly I had had no thought to question what was said. Lepers were lepers. None thought of them as human folk. Now, however, I knew differently. Lepers were no more than ordinary people like ourselves who had contracted a dread, fell disease. And the one in ten thousand people who retained no fear of them, people like my friend Luke and his friend Mordechai, were helpless to assist them other than in giving solitary comfort and solace. But that comfort and that solace had a value beyond price to those who bore the brand of Leper.
Mordechai and his people had all died simply because, alone and unassisted, they lacked the means to sustain themselves through a hard winter. That such was a risk all people bore was true, and witnessed by the deaths in Camulod, but other, normal people had the opportunity, at least, of gaining help from neighbours and community. Had such communal help been offered—even from a distance and in fear and pity—to Mordechai's lepers, they might have survived. I knew now, beyond doubt, that there was moral wrong involved therein, but no means of redress would come to me. I had no one on whom to affix blame. There was no town nearby, no settlement whose people might have changed the outcome. The lepers here had fled normal community, some driven out, in fear of being killed, and others spurred by fears of passing on their contamination to friends and loved ones. The very nature of their illness demanded seclusion and sequestration, precluding normal human contact. But somehow, I felt, there had to be a means of alleviating the soul-searing pity of such things. I knew I was ill equipped to answer this by myself, but I resolved to take the matter up with Luke, once back in Camulod.
My drifting thoughts were interrupted at that point by a shout of warning from Rufio, who had seen movement ahead of us on the road. Our alarm was short-lived, however, for we quickly recognised our own men, a double squadron under the command of the taciturn Benedict, dispatched to look for us at dawn after the concern caused by our failure to arrive back at Glevum the previous night. They met us just short of the burned-out ruin of the Red Dragon hostelry, close to where the lesser road we followed joined the broader highway to Glevum itself, and thereafter we made better time.
Two hours later, deep in a conversation with Benedict, I was startled again by a loud, female shout from the wagon ahead of me as Shelagh leapt to her feet and then jumped down from the still-moving wagon to run forward, off the road to where my view was blocked by the vehicle itself. Startled into action, Benedict and I spurred our horses and cantered around the wagon just in time to see her launch herself upward towards the summit of the low hill we were traversing, climbing bent forward with her skirts already kilted and tucked between her knees, scrambling upward using hands and feet like a small boy fleeing from an angry farmer. Astonished, I turned to where her father sat smiling, watching her from the wagon.
"In God's name, Liam, what ails her?"
He grinned at me, waving his arm towards the sea. We had been climbing steadily for more than an hour, our path taking us parallel to the coast in a northeasterly direction, and at this point on the flank of the hill, no more than five miles from Glevum, the distant sea had come into view, off on our left. There, by some trick of height combined with clear morning light, a small fleet of vessels lay plain to see, some larger than others, all of them tiny and far distant, but one of them showing clearly the black galley outlined on its square, central sail. Shelagh had spied Donuil's return, or at least the return of her people. Now, with a shout of my own, I bade Benedict remain where he was and spurred my horse to the hillside in Shelagh's tracks, feeling the power of his mighty, bunching muscles as he thrust himself upward, overtaking her rapidly. I thought to catch her quickly, before she reached the crest of the hillside, but she was as agile as a deer and we gained the summit almost together, she mere paces ahead of me, leaping up and down in her excitement and waving with all her might towards the distant fleet. I drew rein and watched her, seeing the radiant joy that shone from her, a vision that rendered me momentarily incapable of looking towards the west and the galleys that lay there. Suddenly, then, she spun towards me and ran to grasp me by the ankle, tugging at me to alight.
"It's Donuil, Cay! He's here! My future husband comes to seek me!" As quickly as she had grasped me, she released me again and ran towards the edge of the summit, stopping only when she reached the highest point, there to begin waving again, although she must know as well as I that there was not the slightest hope of anyone aboard those craft seeing her. Grinning ruefully to myself, I swung down from my saddle to join her, looking carefully now for the first time towards the ships below. Clearly seen from this height, they were about a mile from shore, making great speed and proceeding directly towards the coastline under oar and sail. They made a stirring sight. Four great galleys, I counted, two of them larger than the others, and ten smaller craft, similar to the vessel Liam had built for Shelagh. These would be the vessels, birneys rather than galleys, built to transport Liam's livestock. I guessed that one of the two largest galleys would be Connor's—all four now clearly showed the black galley device on their sails. Feargus's craft, one of the smaller pair, I recognized by the colour of its sail, more reddish than the plain, dun brown of the others, and where Feargus sailed, Logan would be in consort, which marked his vessel plainly, too, since it was of a size with Feargus's. The fourth galley, though, was as big as Connor's, and I had no idea who might captain it.
As I reached her side, Shelagh reached out and drew my arm through hers, hugging it close so that I felt the cushioned softness of her breast against my elbow. She spoke no word, merely gazing, rapt, towards the distant spectacle.
"Feargus and Logan, certainly," I said. "And Connor, I would guess, but who is the other?"
"Brander," she replied.
"Brander? Come to Britain without his fleet? That makes no sense. Why would he come here alone?"
She looked up at me, as if to see whether or not I was making fun of her. "Alone? Brander goes nowhere alone. See yonder."
I looked where she pointed and saw nothing, but then my eyes adjusted to the distance and searched even farther and I felt my stomach turn over. All along the line of the horizon to the northwest the straightness of the sharp-lined join of sea and sky was marred by tiny imperfections which revealed themselves immediately as the shapes of distant vessels, score upon score of them, ten miles and more from shore.
"Sweet Jesus!" I breathed. "How many are there?"
Shelagh looked, without great interest. "Five or six score. Brander must be returning home to the northern isles. That means the war is won, for better or for worse. His galleys will be needed in the north."
"Won?" Even asking the question, I had to smile at he
r sanguinity, though I was grateful she remained unaware of my smile since the alternative to her assessment could not be thought of as amusing in any way.
"Aye, won or being won. Were it not won, there would be no livestock to bring over here, and Brander would not be sailing back to the north."
"Aye, I suppose . . . But—"
"But what?" She was looking at me now, gazing up at me with those hawk's eyes of hers.
"Shelagh, I thought I heard King Athol say the animals were to be removed for their protection. If the war is won, they would need no such protection. They would be safe."
"Aye, safe, but hungry." She clutched my hand now in her own right hand, keeping her left arm clamped close upon my forearm, so that when she pulled my hand towards her, my curling fingers came to rest between her breasts. I knew she had no thought in her of what she did or of what it did to me, so I gave no sign of being aware of what I touched.
"Before this war was thought upon, our biggest pains were overgrazing, Cay. We lack the space to feed our beasts, and our people grow more numerous all the time. That's why the king wished my father to bring the kine to Britain, with your assistance and permission. Here, in these open grasslands, they will thrive and prosper, grow and breed. In a few short years, we can transport them to the north and raise them there in safety. But not yet. Now they are come here, in safety. And escorted by Brander's whole fleet, ensuring safe passage. Such is their value, these animals of ours. Goats and swine and sheep and cattle. They mean prosperity and ongoing security for our folk. So I say the war is won. You wait, you'll see. Would you dare to wager with me?"
I smiled and shook my head. "No. A man would be a fool to wager against you, Lady."
"Hah! You think so? I see you are a man of wisdom." She broke off, frowning. "What's wrong? What are you thinking?"
I shook my head, but she would have none of it, insisting on an answer.
"Donuil," I muttered, eventually, hating to have the thought wrung from my unwilling mind that he might have died in the war.
"What of him?" She was smiling up at me. "Surely you are not jealous of his coming?"
"No," I said, refusing to be teased. "But what will you do if he is not aboard those galleys?"
She laughed gaily. "Then I shall marry you and be queen over Camulod."
Her levity shocked me profoundly. "Shelagh!" I gasped, feeling my face constrict with disapproval.
She became immediately contrite and pulled me down to where she could kiss my cheek and bathe me in the perfume of her hair. "Och, Cay," she said into my ear. "Do you take me for a foolish woman or a callous wretch? Of course he is there! Look at Logan's galley, at the mast, the cross spar. What's there?"
I looked and gasped again. "A hanging man!"
"Aye, but a hanging wooden man! Yon is my throwing target, brought for me by Logan, who made it for me when I was a lass. I made him promise to bring it to me here, and also that if all was well, he would suspend it from the spar where I could see it long before they came to land. Were it not there, I should have known my husband was not coming and would then have had time to prepare myself before they made landfall."
I was looking at her now with more respect than I had ever felt for her before. "When did you arrange that?"
"In Glevum, when we landed. You seized Feargus by the arm and wandered off to whisper with him, trading secret things. While you were gone, I had words of my own with Logan, who has been like another father to me since I was a babe. He it was who taught me how to throw a knife with consistency, you know. I had talent, and a true eye, but he showed me the knack of throwing true time after time. And one winter, he carved out a target man for me from a great log, and bound its breast in leather armour. I called it Mungo, out of dislike for Mungo Rohan who was even then a great black pig. Now it seems right that a hanging Mungo should announce my husband's safe return, do you not think so?"
I had been watching the galleys below as she spoke. They had come about and were now sailing swiftly to the left of us, southward, Brander's huge craft veering across the wakes of the other vessels to take up a station to seaward.
"Look at that! Where are they going now?"
"Southward, to where I shall find them, eight leagues south of Glevum."
Again she had surprised me. "How can you know that?"
She shrugged, gesturing with one hand to where the ships moved below. "Because it was so arranged. There is broad grassland there, and a banked shoreline, where the galleys can unload. Feargus and Logan found the spot the first time they came here in search of Donuil. They could not land at Glevum, you'll recall, because the other, alien vessel was there when they arrived, stealing the coloured stone, the marble. Eight leagues, Lagan told me. How far are we from Glevum now?"
"No more than five miles. Under two leagues."
"Then we have six to travel. I had best collect my father and be on my way. We will meet again when you return from Cambria."
"But—"
"But what, Merlyn Britannicus? Your men await you in Glevum and your duty is clear. You must avenge your people soon, before the weather robs you of the chance to find your stolen horses."
"Damnation, Shelagh! I can't simply leave you here. I'll take you to Donuil."
Now she swung to face me, real surprise and concern in her face. "What nonsense is this? You were to leave me at Glevum! That would have left me with eight leagues to ride, instead of six. My father and I will be in no danger. We'll meet the others before you have time to lead your troops out of the town."
"But I want to see Donuil!"
She flashed a grin at me. "So do I! And so you shall, when you return. But in the meantime, my need is greater than yours, and I have no desire to spend the night waiting for Donuil to finish talking with you before he beds me.
"I would not deprive you in such a way, Shelagh."
Her grin became a laugh. "Not willingly, not intentionally, but you would; or he would. No, you may not come."
"But what about Brander? I would like to meet him."
"Brander won't land. He, too, has people awaiting his return. Look you there, already he veers off, his charges safely brought to shore."
Sure enough, Brander's distant galley was turning again, pointing its dragon beak towards the north and west.
"Connor, then. He will be there."
"He will, and will remain until you return. Come you here." She caught me by the chin strap of my helmet and pulled my face down towards her, and then she kissed me as she never had before, a long, sweet, aching kiss that filled my breast with joy and yearning, yet strangely stirred no passion in my loins, since I knew of its intent.
"Merlyn," she said softly, when she had broken contact lingeringly with my mouth. "That kiss was for your friendship and your love and your restraint. I wish it could be more, but we have said all that. Go now, and do what you must do, knowing that you hold a place within my breast that none will ever share, even my husband. I have two sons to bear, and you a child to rear and train to be a king. I cannot envy you that task, Merlyn Britannicus, but I know that you will excel in the doing of it and that the child, having you as tutor, will be taught the things a king must know, and a man must do . . . and I know that those are seldom the same things. Few men, few kings, excel at both. Even Athol, king among his Scots, was better king than father, for in the tending of his people he had not the time to tend his sons in fullness, and so bred ingrates and murderers among his own. Remember that, dear friend, when you turn to the teaching of your king. Governance, and equity, must be for all. Go you now, with my love, in spirit more than ever could be fleshly."
I stood mute, feeling my throat filled with a ball of grief and mixed emotions. Then I nodded, still silent, and led her down to where her father and my escort waited.
I ,long after she was gone to join Donuil, her words resonated in my breast, but presently the words she had whispered of her love for me faded into acceptance, leaving only the words she had said about my task, and k
ingship. Words that simmered in my breast and brought me to a change of mind and heart about the duty facing me in the days to follow.
XXVI
On the morning of the second day after we had turned around to descend beneath the snow line again, we found our horses. Huw Strongarm and his Celts had left our camp shortly after daybreak, leading directly southward from where we had spent the night on a quiet, well-watered upland plateau beyond which the ground sloped gently south towards another line of hills. There was no sign of winter anywhere that morning. The skies were clear, filled with the promise of a bright spring day, and the invigorating nip of the early morning air buoyed our spirits as we prepared to break camp and follow our scouts into the valleys to the south of us. I had just dismissed my ten troop commanders after the morning meeting and was checking the cinch on my horse's saddle when I heard my name called and looked up to see Philip waving to me from some distance away, where he had been watching his assembling troop. When he saw me look towards him he waved his arm southward, indicating something beyond my sight farther down the slope.
Curious, but not yet alarmed, I pulled myself up into the saddle and kicked Germanicus into motion, making my way to where Philip had been joined by Benedict and Rufio. Dedalus and two others joined them before I reached their side, and all of us stared off to the south. Three men, who could only be our own scouts, were running towards us and were soon close enough for the keen-eyed Dedalus to identify them as Menester, Gwern and Guidog, the inseparable trio. They were still more than a mile from where we sat watching them, and when Ded stated the obvious, that they had evidently found something, I cleared my throat.
"Aye, and there's little point in making them run all the way up here to tell us what it is, when they'll have to accompany us back down again. I'm going to meet them, gentlemen. Form up your troops and follow me, but hold them in check, if you please. Raise no alarm until we have discovered the truth of this."
