by Whyte, Jack
I would tune dismissed the question then and thought no more of it, save that one matter had been plaguing me for years: someone had betrayed young Arthur's security to Peter Ironhair and smoothed the way for Ironhair's assassins to steal into Camulod and attempt the life of the boy. In that attack, which was undone only by Shelagh's quick thinking and her mastery of her deadly throwing- knives, Hector's wife had been violated and murdered and Arthur and the other children had barely escaped with their lives. Someone we knew, some trusted person within Camulod, had betrayed our trust and remained concealed. That knowledge had sown fear and suspicion among us, who had never known distrust prior to then, and had resulted in my flight—for it was nothing less—with the boy in tow, from Camulod to Mediobogdum.
And now Owain of the Caves, who had been in Cambria when Ironhair was fighting there to install Carthac as the region's king, and who had been in Camulod at the time of the invidious attempt on Arthur's life, was asking questions of our whereabouts and calling me an old and valued friend. I knew that I was probably inferring too much from what Ambrose had written, but the fact remained that someone in Camulod was steeped in treachery and in the pay of Ironhair. Owain had mentioned nothing of the boy. Nor had he need to. In finding me, he would have found Arthur. And now, with Ambrose's acknowledgment that our presence here in Ravenglass was no secret today in Camulod, I was forced to accept the inevitable corollary: the traitor might or might not be Owain of the Caves, but if the betrayer was still in Camulod, and I must assume he or she was, then the boy was no longer absolutely safe here, and there was nothing I could do to change that, short of fleeing again, this time to the Caledonian Isles.
Unsure of precisely how to proceed, since my suspicions were purely personal and very probably unfounded, I yet sat down and wrote to Ambrose at length, telling him of my reactions to his letter and asking him to keep an eye and an ear open and attentive to Owain of the Caves from that time on, taking note of how inquisitive he might appear to be about me. When I had written it, I read it over and again, then sealed it and dispatched it back to Camulod with the returning troops whose tour here in the north-west was over.
That done, I led the newly arrived officers to Ravenglass within the week and presented than to Derek, inviting him to visit the fort, where we would introduce him formally to the new garrison. He welcomed our three friends and their junior officers magnificently, mounting a banquet in their honour the night we arrived and arranging for them to tour the entire area around the town—inspecting it from a military, defensive perspective—the following morning.
On returning from the tour, while the others were sampling the best brews of the town's hostelries, I took Derek aside and told him about Ambrose's letter, my suspicions about Owain and my consequent fears for Arthur's safety here in Ravenglass and for the security of Camulod itself. He made no attempt to make light of my concerns; he listened gravely to all I had to say and then attempted to put my mind at ease.
There had been few strangers in Ravenglass for several years, he pointed out, since the death of Liam Condranson and the expulsion of his followers. Most of the traffic passing through the port nowadays was local, made up mainly of fishermen, with the only heavy ships and galleys being those of our Eirish friends and other peaceful clans trading from further north along the coast. Barely one visitor in any score was a stranger nowadays, and he promised to make sure from this day on that every unknown person coming through was watched by his people at all times.
Greatly reassured by his level-headed reaction to my worries, I thanked him and sat back, aware that he was staring at me and plainly had more to say.
"What?" I asked him. "You have a question? Spit it out."
"When will you be leaving?"
"What?" His question was simple and straightforward, but it surprised me so much that its immediate meaning was beyond me.
"When will you be leaving, you and your people? Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about it. You've been here now for more than six years. That's how long you said you'd stay, when first you came: five or six years, until the boy was grown. He's grown."
"I haven't been thinking about it. And the boy's not grown—not quite."
"Horseshit. For all intents and purposes your boy's a man. He's almost fifteen. If he hasn't started tupping the wenches already, it's only because Shelagh keeps him on a tight leash and an early curfew. But curfews are for evading and leashes were made to be slipped. Short of iron bars across the doors and windows, nothing's going to keep the boy inside at night if he wants to be outside, baying at the moon. Personally, I'd wager he's had more than a few of my young women spread-eagled ere now. God knows there's few around here that would fight him off. He's too good-looking by half."
I simply sat and stared at him, hearing the truth in his words. Arthur, I knew, was almost through his transition from boyhood to manhood, but I had never really thought of him until now as being sexually awakened. As soon as Derek spoke the words I saw the extent of my own blindness, and I asked myself how I could think of myself as being attuned to Arthur's needs and yet remain completely unaware of this. Tress, I knew, must be aware of it, but she had said nothing of it to me. I resolved to ask her about it that very night, then made shift to empty my mind of that and to focus my thoughts upon Derek's surprising question.
"Where do you think we would go, if we were to leaver'
"Go?" His eyes widened in mock surprise. "Well, let's think about that ... Camulod? Would that be a good starting point? Or Cornwall? Or Cambria, perhaps?"
Ignoring the heavy sarcasm, I shook my head.
"Derek, you may not believe it, but it's been years since I've thought about leaving here."
"Then you should be ashamed. You're spending too much time with your head between Tressa's legs, my friend—your thoughts are focused on the wrong end of things. Boudicca's buttocks, man! You've spoken of your mighty destiny so much to me that even I believe in it now—I, Derek of Ravenglass! And now you tell me you've abandoned and forgotten it? Is that supposed to make me feel happy?"
I waved my hands to cut him short. "No, no, no. That's not what I meant at all, Derek. I haven't forgotten any of—"
"Then what's wrong with you? You brought the lad up here to save his life and to train him. He's trained, Merlyn, and he's full-grown. Now he needs to be refined. He'll grow bigger and he'll grow older, but if he does either here, in Ravenglass, then the world will be passing him by. He needs to go out there now, into the world, and learn how it functions. He has nothing more to learn here, I swear to you, other than the arts of spreading female legs, and he can do that anywhere. Now he needs to travel, to see other regions, to meet other men and form his own judgments by which he'll stand or fall. He needs to meet strangers and fight with them or turn them into friends and even followers. You've talked long in the past of how he will rule Camulod, one day. That day is nigh, my friend. Time to go meet it."
I drew a deep breath and thought about the rightness of what he had said. I felt ashamed of myself. I had never lost sight of what he described, but what I had lost sight of— willfully—was the closeness of the departure point for the next stage of our venture. Now I saw that I had grown too comfortable here in Derek's north-west haven, had grown too soft, mentally, in my tranquil life with Tress. I rose to my feet and gulped down the remaining wine I had been savouring.
"You're right, my friend," I said. "I've lingered here too long and the world is unfolding elsewhere. There's a monster in Cornwall who needs to be put down, and his master's as mad a dog as he is. Arthur needs to ride to war."
Derek looked intently at me. "Who's the monster in Cornwall?"
I told him briefly about Carthac and Ironhair, and when I had finished he sat up straight.
"It's going to be quiet around here, once you people leave."
"Aye, it will be, I suppose. But what about the garrison? Will their absence henceforth cause problems for you?"
"How should it? This town's almo
st impregnable. It stood intact for hundreds of years before your garrison arrived, and it'll continue to do so long after they are gone."
I felt my eyebrow rising at that. "Impregnable? I seem to recall a certain acquaintance of mine—the king of Ravenglass, I believe he called himself—pleading with me and my friends, a few years ago, to stay close by and help him fend off an attack his people could not repulse alone."
Derek was completely unaffected by my sarcasm. "That was different, and you know it. We had been at peace for a long time, unsuspecting of treachery, and we had an entire Erse fleet inward bound with no thought of hesitating, or scouting the land, or taking any preliminary measures. They came to conquer and they thought their treacherous whoreson of an admiral already had us beaten. I needed Connor's men up on my battlements to be seen in their numbers. It was a simple message to go away and stay away."
I nodded, acceding the truth of that, then looked him in the eye. My thoughts drifted back to the day we'd landed in Ravenglass, and everything that had passed between us since then. "I'll miss you, my friend."
"No you won't. I'm coming with you. That is, if you'll have me. I'm old bones, but not much more so than you, and I can still carry a shield and swing a sword or an axe. Will you?"
"Will I have you?" I was amazed. "Of course I'll have you, and gladly, but when first we came to Ravenglass you said you hoped you'd never have to swing a sword again. You'd had your fill of war and slaughter."
"Aye, and I believed every word of it, at that time. But now I've changed my mind. I'm coming with you."
"What about your people?"
"What about them? Let my sons look after them. They're only waiting for me to die, anyway, watching me grow fat and closer to an apoplexy. They huddle like a flock of crows, watching and waiting so they can squabble over the pickings. We'll let them squabble early, then, and sort the matter out among themselves. Besides, I want to see this boy of yours ride into battle, and I want to see this Camulod of yours, as well, to see if it really rivals Rome itself."
I grinned at him and held out my hand. "So do I, Derek, so do I."
I took my leave of Derek and went to collect the others who had accompanied me into the town, and within the hour, we were on our way back up to Mediobogdum, a laughing, light-hearted group made up of Donuil, Lucanus, Dedalus, Rufio, Philip, Falvo, Benedict and me. When I judged the time was right, about half-way through the journey, when the ceaseless bantering had abated slightly, I told them of my thoughts and my decision to leave for Camulod in the spring, and then asked them to say nothing to anyone else until we could convene the whole populace of the fort at one time. The decision to return to Camulod was mine, I emphasized, and would not be binding on any of our group who might wish to remain when the garrison and serving officers returned to Camulod. None would, I thought, but everyone deserved the right to have the choice.
Once home, I stabled Germanicus and left my companions bantering among themselves as I made my way to find Tress. We were home much earlier than expected, and she met me at the entrance to my quarters, wide-eyed with alarm, one hand held up to her mouth.
"Cay, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, there's nothing wrong, my love. Calm yourself." I went directly to her, taking her into my arms. "Something came up, in Ravenglass, that's all, something unforeseen, and we decided to return immediately. Tomorrow, I must call a meeting of all our people and talk to them."
She leaned back into the support of my arm, cocking her head at me. "What was it that came up? What happened?"
"Nothing really happened, I merely had a long overdue talk with Derek, that's all. He made me see that I've been dangerously close to wasting time here."
Her frown was instantaneous. "What? Wasting time, how?"
"By being indecisive. Avoiding the inevitable. Now I have to leave. We have to leave. To return to Camulod. It's past time—Hey!"
She had spun away from me as I said the words, ripping herself out of my arms, her entire body rigid with displeasure and disapproval. I stood blinking at her, aware that she was hurt and angry but incapable of guessing why. And then, being male, I asked the male question: "What's wrong, Tress?"
"Nothing." The chill in her voice would have blighted ripening fruit.
I felt anger stir in my own breast. "That's ridiculous! Something is so far wrong you look as though you might never recover, but I'll be damned if I know what it is. What did I say to cause that? I said we're leaving, that's all."
She withered me with a sidelong look, and when she spoke I heard, for the first time in years, the burr of her local idiom in the acid of her tone. "That's all? That is all? After five, almost six years, you decide to leave, on the strength of one conversation, and that is all? Well, you'll pardon me, I hope, if I overreacted. We'll all regret the loss of you, I'm sure."
Suddenly, blindingly, I saw the cause of her anger and stepped towards her again. "Tress, I said we are leaving. Us. You and me. I meant you first of all, with me, and then young Arthur and all the others. I'd have no place in Camulod today without you by my side. I made the error of assuming that you'd come with me and so forgot to ask you if you would. Will you?"
She was staring at me, great tears trembling on her lashes. "What?" she asked, her voice faltering.
"Will you come with me, to Camulod?"
"You'd want me there, among all those grand people?"
I laughed then. "Want you? Are you mad? And what's this nonsense about grand people? The place they live in is grand, I'll swear to that, but they are all very ordinary- Well, quite extraordinary, some of them ... But there's no reason for you to have any fears on that account. You're more than equal to any of them. Of course I want you there, beside me as my wife, mistress or concubine. As any one of those, yes, I want you, although I hope you'll be there as my wife and remain my mistress and my wanton concubine."
She frowned again, her eyes filling up with some thought I could not decipher.
"What's this about being your wife? Why would you say such a thing? Years you've known me now, and ne'er a word about being wife or husband has passed between us. No need for such a thing with us, I believed, as you did, too."
"Aye," I agreed, shrugging my shoulders. "But that's changed now—" In truth, it had changed but that moment, with the sudden, flaring fear that she might not come with me. My former vow never to wed had been reviewed in that flash of time and rejected as foolish.
"How, changed? And why so quickly?" Her eyes were flashing sparks. "Is what we have not good enough for Camulod? Will all your mighty friends be shocked to find you living with a common woman who is not your wife?"
"Gods, will you listen to the woman? Tressa! That's not what I meant at all! I meant only that I have grown to love you too dearly to wish to continue without being your husband. If I cannot have you with me, then, God protect me, I have no wish for Camulod. I want you there as my true friend and companion, guide, confidante and counsellor. Yes, again, to all of those. But as a female intimate who lies with me and then goes home to sleep alone, no, that I will abjure from this time forth." I reached out and gathered her into my arms, feeling the uncertainty with which she let herself be pulled. "There's a place already prepared for you in Camulod, my love," I whispered into her hair. "A place filled with light and love and airiness in which you will spread your wings and glow like the most precious-coloured butterfly. A place of honour, in the house of my Great-uncle Varrus and my Great-aunt Luceiia, and it entails being my openly professed lover and my spouse and my true friend. Will you take it?"
She leaned back in the crook of my elbow for long moments, looking up at me with tears trembling on her lashes, and then her arm swept up and her hand cupped the back of my neck and she drew me down to her mouth, and then, for a long spell, there was nothing that I need to write about or that any other needs to know.
I met with all our folk the following day and told them of my thoughts and my decision, taking great pains to let them know that I considered non
e of them to be bound by my wishes. They had accompanied me from the south long years before and since then had created a new home here on this harsh mountain plateau, forging friendships and alliances with Derek's folk in the town beneath and with those of Derek's folk who had come up to live with us in Mediobogdum. Any who wished to remain behind when we left for Camulod, come spring, would do so with my fullest blessing and support, and any of the people there from Ravenglass who wished to come to Camulod would be equally welcome.
When I had finished speaking there was a long silence, broken finally by a loud and prolonged belch from Dedalus. As the laughter died away, he said, "Well, having rid ourselves of that foul air, we had best apply ourselves to bethinking what we have to take with us when we leave. Winter will soon be down about our ears, and when it's gone we'll be too close to leaving to have time to spend rooting around for things we've missed. My proposal is, we draw an inventory from the stores, tally up everything we own and have, and decide then what we must leave behind. Derek's folk will be glad to have anything we choose not to take, and that could amount to many wagon-loads of goods. Who are our scribes and clerks? Let them go first to work, and then the rest of us will improve on what they have to say.
"But first, Cay, if you're sure you want to leave in the new year, you ought to send word in advance to Camulod, now, before the first snowfall. Otherwise Ambrose will know nothing and will send out the relief column to come up here. We might miss them on the way, if they're patrolling."
And so the work began. Within the week a mounted party of ten men went spurring south to Camulod, bearing a letter from me to my brother, explaining what was in my mind and telling him that we would be beneath the walls of Camulod within a month of the last snow's disappearance from our northern hills. Systematically, we set about dismantling the home we had created for ourselves in Mediobogdum. Two hundred years it had sat empty ere we came, and after we had gone it might be yet two hundred more before another came to live in it.
