Camulod Chronicles Book 8 - Clothar the Frank

by Whyte, Jack

  "What will you do with it. Father?"

  He tilted his head to one side and looked at me from beneath raised eyebrows. "I shall pass it to my son, my son."

  "Your son? I had no . . ." My voice trailed away in embarrassment, but he pretended not to have noticed.

  "Of course I cannot give him all of it. The crimson-and- white helm crest is that of a legionary legatus—the legatus of Gaul—and the martial cloak and gauntlets that go with it also bear both my personal and my official insignia as legatus of Gaul. All of those pieces are instantly recognizable to anyone who knows about such matters and so would draw unwelcome attention were someone else to be seen wearing them. But with a plain crest of brown horsehair, the helmet's effect would be much the same, and a plain, functional military cloak of waxed brown wool will go splendidly with all the rest." He glanced sideways at my chest. "You're a big lad, but you still have growth to complete. Nonetheless, the cuirass should fit you well enough even now, over a heavy, quilted tunic, and you'll grow into it soon enough. The helmet's headband is adjustable, so even if your head grows larger, which is unlikely now, the casque will fit you and serve you well."

  I was staring at him open mouthed, unable to believe what I had heard, but finally I found my tongue. "You're giving this to me? To me?"

  "Aye, but not all of it. As I said, I'll keep the helmet crest, the cloak and the embroidered gauntlets—those are purely decorative in any case, heavy and cumbersome and virtually useless. But the rest is yours to wear from this time on."

  He smiled, deciding to take pity on me. "Clothar, Clothar, think about it this way: I have no son of my own and you are the son of one of my dearest friends, and you have given me as much joy and pleasure with your simple honesty and strengths as your father did. I am an old man now, and soon I will die, and when I do, if this armour is still in my possession, venal people will squabble over it and it may end up being worn by someone whose possession of it would make me lie uncomfortably in my grave. Better by far that you should have it, with my blessings. You are going as my envoy into foreign parts, to deal with powerful people and take part in great events. It is fitting that you should be dressed appropriately for the part you may be called upon to play, whatever its nature. So, will you accept this, and my blessings?"

  I felt tears standing in my eyes and could only shake my head in acceptance, incapable of speech. Again he affected not to notice.

  "Excellent, then come over here, for there is something else I have for you, something that you can use at all times. But it came from far beyond Constantinople."

  He went to the table, opened the larger of the two boxes that lay there and lifted out a carefully wrapped bundle, which he laid reverently on the tabletop. He reached into the box again and pulled out what I immediately recognized as a set of supple, well- used and carefully tended black leather saddlebags. He tossed them gently towards me, and as I caught them I noticed that instead of the two normal bags to be thrown across a horse's shoulders, this device had four deep bags, a pair on each side, one superimposed above the other, and a long strap to buckle beneath the horse's chest and hold the assembly secure. I noticed, too, that each bag closed with a strap and buckle.

  "Large bags, capacious and useful. I designed them myself, on campaign many years ago. I found that I could never have enough carrying capacity when I was on the move. You'll enjoy those. But this is what I want to show you." He had been working to undo the wrappings around the bundle he had first drawn from the box and now he held up the garment it had contained. It was a surcoat of some kind, a plain rectangle of some strange material, folded halfway so that it hung down front and back in equal lengths. A hemmed, square-cut hole had been provided for the wearer's head to go through, and there were transverse slits, also hemmed and no more than a handsbreadth wide, beneath the shoulders, permitting the shoulder surfaces to project straight out without being pulled downward. Other than that, the sides were open, and it was plain to see that they were intended to be held in place by a belt or girdle and probably a sword belt. It was a plain, dusty-looking shade of the untreated light brown wool called fustian, pale enough to be sandy or earthen.

  Germanus tossed it to me, and again I reacted with surprise. This thing, too, was metallic. I held it close and peered at it, then squeezed it in my hands. It contained countless thousands of tiny, almost insubstantial metal rings, all sewn into place in overlapping layers so that the garment itself was flexible and probably more comfortable than anything comparable that one might find in Gaul, although I doubted that there would be anything truly comparable.

  "That tunic will deflect a hard-shot arrow fired from close quarters," Germanus said. "I have no idea where it came from or who made it, but it, too, was given to me as a gift many years ago by a visiting king from some far-flung part of the Eastern Empire, and he himself had no idea where it came from. The main thing about it, though, is that it works, and it is light enough and comfortable enough to wear in most situations where you anticipate that there might be danger and yet you do not wish to wear full armour. And it doesn't clink. It rustles a little, but that's all. If you wear it traveling, beneath your new armour, it will fill up the extra room in there. How goes the time?"

  "I know not, Father. I have lost track completely."

  Germanus called again for Armand, and the large young man reappeared from the anteroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. In response to Germanus's question, he informed us that it was the fourth hour of the night. He glanced at the fireplace as he spoke and crossed immediately to blow on the embers, coaxing them until he had a flame going again. When he stood up to leave, the bishop thanked him and gave him permission to retire to bed.

  'Time, time, time," he said as soon as the man was gone. "There is never enough of it. Now, to work. We have to get you from here to the coast, as quickly and efficiently as possible. Tomorrow morning, after I have gone, I want you to report to Tiberias and have him select his finest horses for your use. Each of your traveling companions should have two mounts."

  "There are only two of us, Father. Ursus and myself."

  "Aye, for the time being, but I would like to change that. You will require an assistant, an escort to look after your equipment and your weapons and your horses. I have one for you, if you will consent to take him. His name is Bors and you may remember him. He was in the student intake below yours and he began this year as the informal leader of the Spartans—a brilliant and gifted student, but troubled during these past few months. His parents died in an outbreak of plague late last summer, although we did not hear word of it until after you had left us. But it transpires that it was not only his parents who died. His entire family was wiped out, leaving no one alive. The boy needs something now to rekindle his interest in living. He has been morose and depressed and his studies have suffered for it, but he is still far and away the best and brightest in the school this year. I want you to consider taking him with you. He will benefit by it and so will you, I am convinced. Talk with him tomorrow and watch him for a day or two. If you feel that such an arrangement would work, invite him to go with you. I have spoken to Tiberias Cato and he knows my feelings on the matter, so there will be no difficulties in freeing the lad to accompany you. Similarly, should you feel uncomfortable about this, then Cato will attend to it and no harm will have been done. The boy himself knows nothing of this, so his feelings will not suffer if you reject him.

  "So! Horses are looked after. Cato has his instructions. Now, I am assuming that you do not speak the Coastal Tongue, but does your friend, Ursus?"

  "I am sorry, Father, I don't know."

  "No matter, we will find out tomorrow morning, but it is important that you have someone with you who understands the language. Latin may serve you most of the time, but there are a multitude of tongues spoken in the world of mariners and the Coastal Tongue serves all of them.

  "When you reach the seacoast, you will proceed to the town called Gesoriacum, which is the port closest to Brit
ain, and ask there for one of three sea captains, all of whom know me and all of whom I trust. Find one of those three, it does not matter which one, but trust no others. Heed me in this, Clothar, for it is vital to your success. You may have to wait for several days, perhaps several weeks, but one of the three will arrive in the port sooner or later. It is home to all of them. You will give the one you meet a token from me, to prove you are who you claim to be. I have the three tokens, and the names of the three men and which token goes to whom. Put them in your saddlebags."

  He now opened the citrus wood chest and withdrew from it a small, slender handmade box of sandalwood that he opened to show three compartments. In each compartment was a small lozenge of leather with a man's name burned into it, and a piece of jewelry. The first, named for Joachim, held a ring with a stone of lapis lazuli; the second, named for Sivio, contained a small silver pendant, looped to accept a chain; while the third, dedicated to Scapius, held a plain silver cross. Germanus read the names aloud, touched each of the tokens and then closed the box carefully and handed it to me.

  "Each of those men has an identical piece in his possession, given him by me. By giving him this one, you will have the absolute loyalty he would give to me. On the other hand, however, these men work hard to stay alive, so we cannot rely on their goodwill alone. That would be unjust. So." He reached into the chest again, with both hands this time, and came out with both hands filled. "Here, open this up."

  I unrolled a long, supple money belt of soft black leather. It was slightly more than a handsbreadth deep and fastened with triple buckled straps, and the back of it was lined with finely woven wool so that it would not stick to the bare skin against which it would be worn. The main part—the back of the belt, assuming the buckles would be worn in front—was composed of three long lateral leather strips, each of them covering a narrow pocket the depth of the first joint of my thumb, and there were two rectangular areas at the sides, also containing pockets, although these were vertical and only half the width of the others. Germanus was pulling strips of black from a leather wallet.

  "These are silver coins, ten to a strip, thirty in all. Tuck them into the three pockets. They'll make a handy addition to your armour should anyone attempt to stab you in the back. These ones here, so much smaller, are of gold—thirty of these as well, in six sets of five. Tuck these carefully into the side pockets, and bear in mind that each of them is worth at least thirty and perhaps fifty of the silver coins. These are emergency funds only. Wear them against your skin at all times, Clothar, and let no one know you have them. You will be moving and living among men who would kill you without blinking for a single one of the silver coins, let alone the gold. For your expenses along the road, in mansios and taverns, use this." He tossed me a small, heavy leather bag of coins. "Those are mostly copper, with only a few small silver pieces. It is the kind of money that will get you whatever you need without stirring anyone's greed." He dug again into the chest and tossed me yet another small leather bag, this one heavy beyond belief. "This you will use to pay for your passage to Britain, across the Narrow Seas. It is gold, but do not be afraid to use it.

  "The route from Callis to Dubris is the shortest distance between the two shores, but there has been trouble in the southeast of Britain and the Saxon tribes there, particularly the ones who call themselves Danes, are moving to occupy the entire region and are notoriously unpredictable. Be guided by whoever is your captain, but be prepared to travel westward before you land. Ideally, if you have fair winds and the weather holds, you should round the peninsula called Cornwall and sail up the coastline as far as a place called Glastonbury. Camulod lies close by there. Again, your captain will know of Glastonbury."

  I wiggled my fingers.

  "What? You have a question?"

  "Aye, Father. How many coins should I pay the boatman? I have never handled gold before."

  Germanus smiled. "It is the same as lead, Clothar—heavy and cumbersome and valuable only to the extent it is coveted by others. Fall into the sea with bags of it on your belt and you will drown. But it has its uses, too. For a fair-weather crossing, say ten coins. Foul weather, half as much again. For outrageous risk, twenty coins, and for safe conduct all the way to Glastonbury in the west, thirty. That would be generous, but worthwhile.

  "Now, what else is there?" He stood looking about him, his hands on his hips, then shook his head. "That's it, I believe. I think we have covered everything. Now, another draft of grape juice, although I fear it will be warm by now."

  The fresh juice was warm but nonetheless delicious. As soon as I had drained my cup, however, Germanus rose to his feet again.

  "I would like to meet your friend Ursus, if it please you. Will you take me to him?"

  "Yes Father, of course, but he might be asleep."

  "He will be asleep—it is late. But this is a special night." He turned and looked again at the magnificent armour on its tree. "We will leave this here for now, but all my people know it is now yours. You may collect it tomorrow or whenever you wish, but I would suggest you leave it until you have decided about young Bors. If he is to be your assistant, then he should begin with this. And he should learn everything from that point on—the care of your weapons, armour and horses, the care and maintenance of your other clothing, the preparation of your food and the prompt and exact execution of your wishes and commands. This is a learning process for the boy, to lead him into manhood. He has the makings of a splendid soldier, but he lacks this particular type of training, so I charge you to be conscientious in supervising and disciplining him. It will teach him obedience and humility, which is even more important. Now take me to your friend."

  We rousted a tousled and sleepy Ursus from his bed, and I introduced him to Germanus. Even under such imperfect and unexpected circumstances Ursus was honored to be meeting a man whose exploits and fame were legendary, and when Germanus invited him to walk with him for a while he accepted with alacrity, merely asking leave to throw some cold water over his head and pull on a warmer tunic. I was not allowed to accompany them, and so I went to my own quarters, where I sat on the bed, leaning back against the wall and going over the astonishing events of this amazing evening.

  Perhaps an hour later, Ursus came into my room and shook my shoulder, startling me awake.

  "You had better get into bed. You won't sleep comfortably, propped up like that. I enjoyed talking with your friend Germanus . . ." I peered up at him, hoping to hear what had happened between the two men. Ursus nodded. "I've never been to Britain. I'm looking forward to seeing it."

  "You're coming with me? I was going to ask you tomorrow."

  "Aye, Germanus told me. He questioned me pretty thoroughly. Got me to tell him things about myself I didn't know I knew. Anyway, he ended up by telling me what you're about to do and asked me if I would consider going with you. Of course I had to say I would, because I couldn't live with myself if you went poking about on your own and got yourself killed. The only problem is Tristan. I don't know what to do about him."

  'Tristan?"

  "My brother. My youngest brother. Believe it or not, I'm fifteen years older than he is." Ursus reached inside his tunic and pulled out a much-folded sheet of very fine parchment. "This was waiting for me when I arrived back in Carcasso. It is a letter from my brother, the first letter I have ever received. Don't ask me how he found me or how the letter reached me, for I have no idea. Someone must have recognized me somewhere, and found out that I was calling myself Ursus, and in some manner the word made its way to Tristan. I have no idea how long ago this was written, or how long it took to reach me, but Tristan was in the legions, stationed in Lutetia, when he wrote it, and he was hoping we might be able to meet again someday. In it he tells me that my father, damn his black heart, died ten years ago, and my brother Simon now rules Montenegra in his place. I liked Simon. He and I were as close as any two in our benighted clan could be. I never knew Tristan at all. He was the smallest tadpole when I left, born to a younger wi
fe after my mother finally died of trying to please and placate the black old boar that I'm named after."

  "How old is he now, then?"

  Ursus blinked. "I don't know. Yes, I do. I'm thirty-seven now, so Tristan must be twenty-two. He says in his letter he joined the legions on his sixteenth birthday and he's been in for six years, so that would make it right."

  "He's five years older than me."

  "Aye, that's about what I would have guessed. Anyway, when I left Carcasso, I decided upon a whim to come up this way to ask about the lad, to see if I could find out where he is nowadays. He might be there still, he might have moved on years ago. I don't know. But we have to pass by Lutetia on our way to the coast, so if you wouldn't mind, I would like to stop there and ask about him."

  "Absolutely, of course. How long has it been since you saw him?"

  "Hmm . . . twelve years, at least, perhaps longer. But he will probably have moved on from Lutetia by now. You know what the army's like."

  "Aye, well, we'll see when we get there. Now we'd better sleep. It's late and Germanus leaves at first light. I'm glad you'll be coining with me to Britain."

  He left and I lay back to think again about the adventures ahead of me, but I must have fallen asleep instantly, for the next thing I was aware of was the predawn crowing of a rooster.

  4

  Germanus was in fine fettle as he made his way out of the ancient town that had been the domain of his family for hundreds of years. I was merely one indistinguishable dot in the vast crowd of people who turned out to see him leave and wish him well, and he spent more than an hour moving among the crowd of well-wishers, embracing some and blessing others and thanking all of them for honoring him in this way.