XVIII

UTHER RODE INTO Camulod in style, in spite of the fact that the column of riders behind him numbered less than four hundred of the original five hundred men he had led into Cornwall, and in spite of the fact that more than a few of those bore evidence of wounds. As we watched him approach, it occurred to me that he and his party looked extremely fresh for a returning raiding party, and I wondered if he had taken the time to clean himself and his men up before approaching Camulod. The thought was malicious, almost vindictive, and it shamed me. I glanced sideways to where my father stood less than three paces away with Titus by his side, and as I did so, I heard him remark, “Now there, Titus, rides a commander who has an eye for morale—not only among his men, but in the Garrison. He must have had his men stop and police themselves so as to make the best impression on the watchers here. Good thinking, that, good for discipline!”

My father’s comment, coming as aptly as it did, made me feel petty, but it also made me aware of the reason for my pettiness—my own uncertainties on how to deal with Uther and the problems he presented to me. I knew I was not prepared to act as though nothing was wrong between us, even though Uther himself might be totally unaware of anything. It had been more than six weeks since the attack on Cassandra, and we had not spoken to each other in all that time, save for the few terse words we had exchanged at the council of war before marching off to fight the invading force from Hibernia.

I knew that Uther would be happy to see me, and my stomach roiled at the hypocrisy of embracing him with all of my doubts unsettled in my mind. I could not face him, I decided, and turned to leave, but as I did so I was confronted by young Donuil on my left, watching the approaching column, and I also became acutely aware of everyone else who was standing nearby. If I were to leave like this, abruptly and without reason, they would all wonder why, with the possible exception of my father, who harboured his own doubts, yet was prepared to extend the benefit of those doubts to Uther. I bit down hard and stayed where I was, watching the approach of Uther’s cavalcade.

A pair of standard-bearers flanked him, right and left, each bearing a massive banner, one of which depicted the red dragon of his family, the Pendragon, and the other the great golden dragon that was Uther’s new personal standard. Riding abreast behind these three came Uther’s four senior squadron commanders, followed in their turn by a glittering troop of Uther’s own squadron, his Dragons, as he called them. Directly behind these, at a distance of about fifteen paces, rode a quartet of strangers whom I identified as Cornish by the differences in their clothing, and behind them came the remainder of Uther’s troop in a column eight ranks wide.

My attention was fastened immediately on the strangers, my first thought being that they were prisoners. I dismissed that thought immediately, however, because of the confidence in their bearing and the condition of their dress, which was too fine to indicate any privation or struggle. Then I saw that they were in fact riding in pairs, masters and servitors, for the front pair rode unencumbered while the horses and the bodies of their followers were laden with baggage. They had to be high-ranking hostages, I decided, or else ambassadors of some kind from Lot himself, although why a victorious leader should return with ambassadors from a defeated enemy, and a treacherous one at that, was beyond me. Defeated armies did not dictate terms or sue for special conditions or treaties of peace; they submitted, and that was that.

“An embassage of some description, obviously,” my father murmured beside me, “although the reasoning behind it baffles me. Why should Lot think we would be interested in talking to his minions? If I were in his shoes, I’d be afraid my servants might be executed out of hand as retribution for my perfidy!”

“You are not Lot, Father. From what I know of him, he would not lose a moment’s sleep over such an outcome. He’s buying something by this move. Perhaps time. Anyway, we’ll soon find out.”

The cheers of the onlookers were deafening now as Uther’s troops approached the gates, and we withdrew to the reviewing rostrum to allow them room to assemble in the courtyard. Eventually, they were all ranged before us and silence fell at a blast from the trumpets.

Uther drew himself erect and saluted my father formally. “General, Hail! I have the honour to report the successful completion of this expedition. We bring reports of victory against the enemies of the Colony, and we bring also ambassadors"—there was the merest trace of irony in Uther’s tone—"from Lot of Cornwall, whose representations will be made to you and to our Council at the time of your choosing. In the meantime, I have only to report that an additional thirty men are left behind us at the borders of our lands, receiving medical aid from our physician there and awaiting wheeled transport back to Camulod.”

My father nodded formally on hearing this and ran his eye appreciatively over the newly returned men, ignoring the “ambassadors" completely for the time being, until he could form a clearer idea of their purposes.

“Soldiers of Camulod!" His voice was not raised particularly high, but it carried clearly across the courtyard. “Welcome to your home. You have done well. Each of you will have forty-eight hours relieved of duty.”

Uther saluted again on behalf of his men. “Our thanks, General. Permission to dismiss?”

“Granted.”

Uther signalled to his senior centurion, and the ranks wheeled and filed out of the courtyard, heading for the stables, leaving only Uther and Lot’s “ambassadors" still before us. The onlookers, for the most part family and friends of the returned troops, left with them, following them to the stables to await their men’s release. Uther flicked a glance sideways at his ambassadors and swung himself out of his saddle to the ground, crossing towards me with his arms flung wide, his great grin threatening to split his face in two.

“Cay, you whoreson! We haven’t been drunk together in years, it seems to me!" His arms closed around me in a bone-crushing hug and I could not help but respond in kind to his warmth and obvious pleasure in seeing me. He stank of sweat, his own and his horse’s, even though he was clean shaved and recently washed. I hugged him back, relieved to discover that my own pleasure was utterly genuine.

“You stink!" I said. “Even worse than I remember. Welcome home. We were beginning to think, from your silence, that you had met your inevitable end at the hands of some jealous husband or lover. But I’d forgotten how, smelling like that, it would be impossible for you to get near a woman.”

“You ought to know better than to worry about me, Cay. I’m too fast to catch, too dangerous to fight, and too good for any woman to complain of me to any lover! I am unkillable! Uncle Picus!" He released me and threw his arms around my father, and I could detect no reservation in the affection with which my father greeted him. I looked around me for young Donuil, but he was nowhere to be seen, so I gave my attention to the four strangers, who remained mounted and looked around dispassionately at their first view of the interior of Camulod. Two of them were servitors, as I had thought. The other two were clearly of high station. All four rode bareback. I sized up the two spokesmen, neither of whom seemed aware of my scrutiny.

Both of them were of a kind, black-haired and swarthy-skinned, and their clothing had much in common with the dress of other Celtic peoples I knew, although those men of Cornwall claimed lineage from the tribe that Caesar’s men had called the Ordoviceii. They seemed to be of a height, too, except that the one closer to me seemed somehow disproportionate. This puzzled me for a moment and I looked for an explanation, and found one. Their horses were of different sizes. The closer man rode a far smaller horse than his companion, and yet his head was on a level with the other’s. I realized that he had an inordinately long spine, and saw that his legs were short and squat. His face was long and bony, and his eyes were deep set and far too close together for the width of his face. His mouth was hidden from my eyes by a long, drooping moustache. He was narrow of shoulder and his long, oiled hair curled down between his shoulder-blades. I took an instant dislike to him and turned my attention to his companion.

There was nothing unusual about this fellow except his eyes, and they were extremely unusual, being bulbous and of different colours. His right eye was so dark brown that it was almost black, the iris barely discernible. His left eye, however, was a brilliant and startling blue. It was a face to frighten children, for it looked as though his skull had been formed without eye sockets, and the eyes had been affixed to the front of his face later, so that they bulged hideously. I wondered what men called him behind his back, for his clothes were rich enough to ensure that very few would dare demean him to his face.

My father turned towards Uther. “Commander Uther! A word with you.” There was nothing in the tone of his voice to indicate any kind of discomfort or impatience. Uther left Titus and Flavius and made his way across to us.

“Uncle? What are you two hatching?”

“These men, Uther. Why are they here? Are they on an embassage or are they prisoners? It might be a good idea if you were to share your thoughts on the matter with us. Don’t look at them.”

Uther grinned. “I’ve no intention of looking at them, Uncle. They approached my camp one night, claiming the protection of the Christian Church, and requested that I escort them here to you to discuss matters of great import—equal import to the master of Camulod and the master of Cornwall.”

“What is this weighty matter?”

“I’ve no idea, but they had a bishop with them who begged me with terror in his eyes to accede to their requests, although there was more of demand than request in them. My first thought was to send them packing, minus their clothes and servants, but there was something about that bishop’s terror that changed my mind.”

“Priests again! Where is the bishop now?”

“He returned to the fort. I had a strong feeling he would rather have stayed with us, but he was under some kind of constraint.”

“He went back alone?”

“Aye, and unwillingly, I thought.”

My father raised an eyebrow at me.

“Cay? What’s your reaction?”

“It sounds … interesting. When do you expect to speak to them?”

“Uther? What do you think?”

“I wouldn’t recognize their damned existence at all if it were left to me, but I suppose you ought to receive them tomorrow, or the day after.”

“Not tonight?”

“Absolutely not, Uncle. They’re Lot’s men and Lot is an evil and vicious whoreson. Let them cool their heels for a few days. It will do no harm. Receive them, quarter them, feed them and let them wait.”

I was suddenly acutely uncomfortable. “No,” I said. “Wait a moment. There’s something out of kilter here, something I don’t like.” They both looked at me questioningly and I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense. Lot may be everything you say he is, Cousin, but he’s also bold, and he’s cunning. He must have some plan in mind to send these people here, and whatever they are in truth, I’ll wager they are far from ambassadors. They could be spies, but to what purpose?" A sudden, errant thought clicked into place. “Time!" I said. “He might be trying to buy time.” They frowned at me in puzzlement, clearly not understanding. I could only shake my head. “I don’t know why, but the idea simply occurred to me that we might be doing exactly what he wants if we keep these men waiting.”

“You might be right, at that, Cousin Longhead.” Uther was still frowning, but more thoughtfully now. “But even if you are, we’ll achieve nothing by meeting with them tonight. I won’t be of any use to you, that much I can warrant. I’m standing here and talking, but I am dead on my feet, and yet I want to be there to hear what they have to say.”

“So be it.” My father had made his decision. “We will talk with them in the morning. For now we’ll leave them here in your care and we two will take no heed of them. See to their quartering yourself, Uther, but then come to my quarters before you do anything else. Cay and I will be waiting for you.” He clapped Uther on the shoulder and pushed me forward with his other arm, and we walked away together, leaving Uther with his guests.

We headed directly for my father’s quarters, and as we approached the main door of the building in which he was housed, I saw young Donuil trying to attract my attention. My father saw him, too, and left no doubt in my mind as to how he felt. “Now, by the Cross of Christ, here comes your tame heathen. Get rid of him, Cay. We have more important things to do than waste time with him!”

I stopped and Donuil hurried towards me, nodding uncertainly to my father who strode on without acknowledgement. I held up my hand to stem the young man’s words before he could utter them. “Donuil, I have no time to talk to you now. My father has called me into conference and has no time to waste.”

“But—”

“No buts, Donuil! I am commanded, and if you are to work with me, you’ll have to learn what that means. I’ll seek you out as soon as I am free, I promise. For now, however, I must go.” I walked on and he stepped aside with a crestfallen, worried look.

As I entered my father’s quarters, I met one of the troopers hurrying out. I was still looking over my shoulder at him as I stepped into the room.

“I sent him for wine. Uther will have a thirst on him, I suspect, and talking is dry work.”

“Aye. So is listening. You look worried, Father. What do you suspect?”

He had removed his cloak and helmet and now he shrugged out of his swordbelt and sprawled in a comfortable chair. “Sit down. I don’t know why, but I don’t like this. Not one little bit of it. I want to question Uther more closely on the circumstances of this `request’ from the bishop. Lot is an animal and a cunning one. This thing stinks of some pending perfidy.”

I had been removing my own outer garments and now I settled into a chair across from him.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said, straightening my tunic beneath me. “Uther said the bishop went back to the fort. That must mean that Uther was encamped close by, perhaps in front of its very gates. That would mean he had been able, with only five hundred men, of whom he lost almost a hundred, to drive Lot’s entire army within the gates.”

“You’re guessing, lad.” My father’s voice was sceptical. “I can’t see any way that Uther could defeat Lot’s army with only five hundred men. But you’re right about one thing. It seems strange that he could be that close to Lot’s stronghold and still feel safe enough to make a camp.”

As he finished speaking, Uther came in, unfastening his cloak, closely followed by the trooper bearing a tray with a flagon and cups. “Ah! Mother’s milk!" he said, eyeing the jug. “Pour me a large one, trooper. I have half the dust of the south-west on the roof of my mouth.” The soldier poured and passed the cups around, leaving as we drank to the safe return of the hero. Uther drained his cup and refilled it before perching comfortably on the table’s edge. “God! That tastes good! Uncle Picus, you’re obviously waiting to hear something. What is it?”

“The news of your campaign.”

“I told you. We were victorious.”

“You lost a hundred men.”

Uther’s face grew serious. “Aye. I lost a hundred. Thirty will have a chance to ride again, but the other seventy are gone.”

“How?”

“Mainly in one bad trap, along the coast of Cornwall.”

“What happened?”

“I learned an expensive lesson. We rode into a trap in broad daylight, and were cut down.”

“Tell me.”

Uther heaved a sigh. “I’ve never seen the like of it,” he said. “We had not sighted the enemy in three days, but we were following their trail, which was plain to see. We had come on the scene of a skirmish. There must have been sixty corpses, obviously killed in battle, and a group of ten who had been executed. They were all stripped of clothes and weapons.”

“Who were they? Have you any idea?”

Uther shook his head. “None at all. I only know they weren’t mine. Anyway, the tracks leading away from the spot were plain to see, so we followed them.”

“For three days?”

“That’s right.”

“And you saw nothing of the enemy?”

“We didn’t even know if this was the enemy. Not Lot’s men, at least, although anyone we met there would be an enemy.”

“Wait a moment. What about the party you rode out to meet? The ones who overran our outpost?”

“Saw neither hide nor hair of them. We found signs of their passage, headed away from here to the south-west, and we followed them, but we lost the trail as soon as we hit hard ground. After that, we were searching for shadows.”

“You saw no one at all?”

“That’s right, Uncle. Not a soul. The land was empty.”

“Until you found these corpses?" Uther nodded solemnly. “And after that you followed more tracks for three days until you rode into a trap.” Another nod. “Didn’t you have scouts out?" Uther merely raised an eyebrow at that, not even deigning to answer the question. “Well? Did you have scouts out?”

“Of course we did.”

“Then how in the name of Christ’s Cross could you ride into a trap?”

“Without the slightest difficulty, Uncle. Our scouts rode right through it without even suspecting its existence and I followed them in a similar frame of mind.”

My father snorted. “I suppose you will tell us about it?" His heavy sarcasm was completely lost on Uther.

“Certainly, if you’ll allow me to.” I ducked my head to hide an involuntary smile. I would not have dared to tweak my father’s nose in such a fashion. Uther, however, went on imperturbably. “We came to the coast, eventually. It is very rocky in those parts, and the tracks we were following kept close to the top of the cliffs. We had the cliffs and the sea on our right, and the land rose slowly and gradually on our left. There were no trees to speak of, and our scouts kept high on the hills, where they could see for miles. I had them ranging for three miles ahead of us and three out on our left flank. There was nothing, no one. And then the enemy hit us.” He paused and we were content to let him take his time. “We had been on rolling terrain for more than a day—unchanging, open grassland along the top of the cliffs. The land higher up was knee-deep in gorse and bracken—nothing tall enough to hide even a man lying down, but thorny and painful enough to make our horses’ lives miserable, so we kept below it, on the open grass.”

“And that’s where they hit you from!" My father could stand it no longer. “They took you from the gorse!”

Uther narrowed his eyes at him and pursed his lips, saying nothing for several moments. Then, “No, Uncle, I told you it wasn’t thick enough or tall enough to hide even a prostrate man. They took us from the grass. From out of the ground!”

“That’s impossible! Am I to believe in magic, now?”

“That’s exactly what I wondered when I saw them appear. I thought, `That’s impossible!’ and then I thought, `It’s magic.’ Let me admit, it put the fear of death into me in more ways than one. But it wasn’t impossible, and it wasn’t magic. It was brilliant strategy. And I remembered that you had used it yourself, years ago.

“We were down in a dip—a hollow between two headlands, that must have been half a mile from crest to crest. I discovered later that some upheaval in the past—God knows how long ago—had torn a great crack in the earth that stretched for almost the full half-mile. It was as though the whole cliff there had leaned sideways, towards the sea. In some spots the crack dropped seemingly for miles, but for most of the way it was filled with rubble, and even had grass growing on the bottom.

“The thing—this ambush—had been long in the planning. The gorse and bracken grew down to the upper edge of the crack, but the entire length of the chasm was completely covered by a long, narrow, tightly meshed net on top of which they had spread turf and sunk gorse and bracken plants. Then they merely climbed down beneath their net, completely hidden, and waited for us to come to them.”

My father’s face was grim. “How many of them were there?”

“More than two hundred.”

“How did they fight?”

“Effectively, and from a distance. They were all bowmen.”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? After the initial surprise I led a charge up the hill.”

“And?”

“They broke and ran. To left and right. In alternating squads, each half laying down fire to cover the others in withdrawal. They were deadly. We were lucky we lost as few as we did:”

“You mean they beat you completely? How many of them did you get?”

“Four.”

“Four! Out of two hundred?”

“Yes, Uncle. I had other things to occupy me and I decided to call off the chase.”

“Other things? What other things?”

“The screams of my men and horses.”

There was silence for a few moments.

“Uther, you are not making sense. What screams? Why should screams be of any import in the pursuit of a fleeing enemy?”

Uther leaned over and refilled his cup, his face expressionless. When he had finished, he took a sip and then resettled himself on the table’s edge, where he remained, silent for a while, gazing into his cup. Finally he spoke, and his words chilled us. “Uncle Picus, every man, and every horse, who was as much as scratched by one of those arrows, died screaming as though being burned alive. They died in mortal agony, their muscles locked in spasm. There were no exceptions.”

“Good God!" This was my father. I could find no words.

Uther continued speaking. “I knew quickly that there was something wrong with what was happening. There are always screams in battle, particularly when horses are injured, but there was an aura of dementia about the tenor and the volume of this screaming. So even at the charge, I looked to see the cause, and there was a trooper, a stolid man I have known for years, screaming like a ravished girl and shaking a bleeding hand as though trying to tear it off his arm. And beside him, kicking and screaming on the ground, lay another, with an arrow clean through the fleshy part of his upper arm. It was a flesh wound. There was no cause for reactions such as I was seeing. Only a very few men lay dead, Uncle, but the others were all going mad. I had my trumpeter sound the recall, but even after we had stopped the hunt, the whoresons kept on firing as they ran, and every time an arrow found a mark, the screaming grew.” He shook his head in disgust. “I lost sixty-three men and seventy-two horses. All dead. All wounds were fatal. No one recovered. That’s why I say we were lucky to have lost no more. Even after I had called off the pursuit, they could have returned to the slaughter.”

“Why didn’t they?”

Uther took another pull at his drink, then answered, “Because they had been too eager. They ran out of arrows. They knew at the outset that, thanks to the venom on their barbs, they had no need to shoot to kill, so they were letting fly at random, hoping to do the maximum damage in the shortest possible time. They overshot, that’s all.”

“And you did not pursue them?”

“Not immediately. As I told you, I had other things to concern me. I didn’t know then that every wounded man was going to die the way they did. We were concerned with trying to help them. It was only later we realized how useless our efforts were. By that time, the assassins were gone. They had galleys concealed below the overhang of the cliffs ahead of us and behind us.”

“What kind of galleys?" My father’s voice was sharp with interest.

“Big ones. Biremes.”

“What about the thirty casualties you reported having left at our perimeter? Why didn’t they die, too?”

“They were wounded honestly, in fair battle.”

My father got up and walked about the room, thinking over what he had heard. “This Lot has much to answer for, when he and I come face to face.”

Uther shook his head, a wry look on his face. “Apparently not, Uncle. His two crows outside deny any knowledge of venomed arrows. They claim that our attackers were not Lot’s men.”

“How can that be? It was Lot’s land, was it not? And they were waiting for you.”

“Aye, that they were. But Lot claims to have lost sixty men in battle against sea raiders. And these bowmen left by sea.”

“Pshaw! Do you believe him?”

“No. I don’t. But that proves nothing.” Uther finished his wine and placed the cup on the table beside his left hip.

I spoke for the first time. “Then who were the men you found dead? And who were the ten others you found executed?”

Uther grunted his disdain. “As far as I’m concerned, they could all have been Lot’s own men. He’s a cold-blooded beast. It wouldn’t be beyond him to bait his trap by killing some of his own, especially if they were enemies from his jails, or malcontents. Dead like that, they would be useful to him. Alive, they’d be a nuisance.”

“You really think he’d do that?" I asked.

Uther’s look of wry amazement was eloquent. “Don’t be ingenuous, Caius. Of course he would! He used those poisoned arrows, didn’t he? His trap worked, didn’t it? I tell you, it had been long in the planning. The swine would use anything to gain his ends.”

“And what are his ends, Uther?" My father’s voice was low. “What is this self-styled King of Cornwall really after?”

“You want me to hazard a guess?" Uther pushed himself erect, away from the table. “I would say dominion.”

“Over what?”

“Over this whole land, starting with Camulod, and over every person living in it.”

My father received this in silence, resuming his seat and steepling his fingertips beneath the end of his nose. I shifted in my chair, saying nothing, waiting, as was Uther, for him to resume. Finally he straightened and sniffed audibly, looking at me.

“Dominion … to conquer all of us. Does that sound familiar?”

I nodded, recalling him saying those very words. But he was already speaking to Uther.

“These ambassadors. Tell us more about them.”

“There’s not much more to tell. We rode on to Lot’s main camp—it’s a log-walled fort, primitive but well-sited—and met only token resistance along the way. When we arrived, we found the fort sealed and everyone inside. We drew up outside the walls and a party came out to parley with us. They asked us why we had invaded their domain. They had given us no provocation. I demanded to speak with Lot, but he would not honour us with his presence. We made camp within a mile of the fort. That night, these fellows came out to us with the bishop, and what they had to say convinced me that there was little to be gained, for the time being, in simply sitting there. The place can be supplied by sea. I decided to come home and regroup, after reporting and having the benefit of your advice.

“We started back the following day. Two days ago we surprised a small army of Saxons—real ones. That’s where we took our other casualties. We lost three killed and the rest were wounded. We smashed the Saxons. They fought to the death. We obliged them. That’s all I have to tell.”

“You had thirty wounded in that fight?”

“No. About twenty. Twenty-two, in fact. The others were hurt during the token resistance I mentioned earlier. The fighting along the road to Lot’s fort.”

“Wait now, Uther. Let me understand this fully. You reached Lot’s fort, his main camp, with almost no difficulty, apart from that one encounter with the bowmen. You arrived to find the place closed up against you, with everyone inside. Is that correct?”

Uther nodded.

“There was nobody outside at all?”

“Not a soul.”

“So you could have besieged them?”

“Aye, we could have. But what was the point, and where my justification? I had no proof that he had moved against us, none at all. I felt as though we were the invaders, the unprovoked aggressors, on his land. He has some able negotiators in his pay. In any case, I had only four hundred men. I had no way of knowing how many he could field against us. The sea was at his back, too. If those galleys we’d seen were really his, they could make nonsense of any attempt at siege. His fort is built right above the shore, on the cliffs there.”

My father was pacing the floor by this time, his eyes fixed on Uther so that his head swivelled as he traversed the room. “So. Lot presented you to yourself as the aggressor. He made no overtly hostile moves. He disclaimed knowledge of this disgusting thing with the poisoned arrows, and he dispatched these two `ambassadors’ to talk to us.” His gaze swung to me. “Caius, you are the thinker. What’s he trying to achieve here? He’s up to something.”

“Clearly,” I admitted, “although I fear we’ll find out nothing until we hear this embassy. Uther, did he make any reference at all to the attack from the north by the Hibernians?”

He shook his head. “None at all.”

My father snapped his thumb and forefingers. “You’re right, Caius! He is attempting to buy time. But to what purpose?”

“The apparent purpose doesn’t matter, Father. It’s the time itself that is important, I’m convinced of that, and I think I know how and why, but I must ask you both to bear with me and what might seem like foolish questions. By sending his people back with you, Uther, he was sure of gaining both time and information. Had we lost to the Hibernians, or been mauled by them, you would have ridden home to a very different reception than the one you received. His `ambassadors’ would have been able to report the situation from their own, personal observation. They will still be able to do that, since Lot has no idea that we know of his alliance with the Hibernians.”

“What are you saying?" Uther’s face had grown dark at this new information. “There was no coincidence in the double attack? Lot has allied himself with Outlanders?”

“Aye,” I answered him. “He and his people have been busy. They have made friends among the Scots in Hibernia. Friends, it now appears, who could aid him militarily on land, and also keep him well supplied by sea in the event of a siege of his own stronghold.”

“How did you find out about this?”

“By accident,” Father intervened. “Cay made a bargain with a prince among the enemy. Kept him as hostage in return for sparing the lives of about a thousand of his men.”

Uther turned to me at this, his eyebrows raised.

“It worked out well,” I said, forestalling his question. “I trust the man. His word will hold, and that means that his father’s people will make no move against us while we have him. Five years. He was the one who told us of the alliance.” Uther looked confused. “Don’t you see it yet, Uther?" I pressed him. “Lot can have no idea that things turned out the way they did. As far as he is concerned, we believe we have been attacked by raiders from Hibernia, that’s all. If we drive them off, it will be at cost to us—the higher the better, from his viewpoint. In the meantime, he makes a diversionary move against us, timed to coincide with their attack, to force us to split our troops. Having achieved that, he withdraws ahead of us without provoking us, making you appear the aggressor. Then he does attack you, mauls your men and your morale significantly, but goes to great lengths to maintain an appearance of innocence. He must have been sadly disappointed by the small scale of your losses.

“In any event, as the innocent, offended party he has the right to send back messengers with his aggrieved complaints about our invasion of his territories. These spies, armed in their innocent appearances, will quickly bring him information on the success of his allies’ incursion against us. Whichever way the affair turns out, he has gained time and intelligence about our condition and our state of readiness against further attack. Best of all, however, in the aftermath of such sustained action by us on two fronts, his spies will be able to form an intelligent estimate of our real strength in men and horses.”

During this summation my father had been nodding in grim-faced agreement. When Uther finally spoke, there was a tone of unwilling admiration in his words.

“That whoreson! What a devious, treacherous, unprincipled—”

“Aye, all of those and more, Uther,” I said, interrupting him. “But include brilliant, and painstaking. If he were on our side, he’d be one of our master strategists. The flaw in his planning has been accidental. We turned the tables on his allies and arranged the truce we did, and we came out of it with more information from a first-hand source than Lot could possibly have anticipated.”

“So be it, Caius,” said my father. “You may have entered the mind of our antagonist far better than either Uther or I could have done. I for one can find no fault in your logic, or your deductions. But I confess your reference to buying time still leaves me grasping for meaning. Why should he need time? For what? What can we expect next?”

“He may have bought it already … I’m guessing now.” They nodded, their eyes intent, and I took a few extra seconds to prepare my next thoughts. “I think Lot is here, close by us now. I think he’ll attack us soon with everything he has, as soon as he can, before we are ready for anything. Uther, did you receive any indication at all of the strength he had concealed within his walls?”

A brief headshake. “Absolutely none. It could have been empty, or he could have had men piled in there, row on row, like logs. I have no idea.”

“That’s what I thought. Very well, visualize this, and bear in mind the type of man we have to deal with here. Uther might have come home to face one of three situations: The first, and most desirable from Lot’s point of view, would be that we had been completely beaten by the Scots invaders, and Uther would thus be riding into a deathtrap. The second would be that we had come home victorious, to whatever extent we might have been able to salvage a victory—I honestly do not believe Lot could have imagined such a complete victory as we have won, since God was clearly on our side and fighting with us, and Lot has little to do with any God. In this event, Uther would return to find us licking our wounds and recuperating from our exertions. The third possibility is that we might still be engaged in campaigning against the invaders, so Uther would find only a holding garrison in Camulod.

“Any one of these three possibilities would work to Lot’s advantage. Remember, his spies ride with you, Uther, and you are supposedly convinced of Lot’s blamelessness, despite any personal hatred you might have for him. Are you both with me thus far?" They nodded, still listening intently.

“Now, if I were as devious as Lot, I would attribute to us sufficient malice to keep these two men waiting to deliver their messages. A day, at least, two days or three if my luck was working for me. If the Scots have been victorious, then Lot has no problems. If we have won, then we need time to lick our wounds and regroup, and we should be relieved to get Uther’s reassurance—in spite of any personal misgivings—that the trouble in the south-west was without substance.” I was confident in my logic, but its conclusions were startling, even to me. I took a deep breath before delivering my next statement.

“Father, Uther, I am prepared to wager that Lot followed hard on Uther’s heels, and is now less than two days’ march from here, in full force, waiting for his two spies to come back. If they do not arrive within two days, he will know that we were not defeated in the north. If we hear his envoys and send them back immediately, tomorrow, then he’ll know within three days and still be closer to us than we would suspect. On the other hand, if we keep them waiting for two days, three days, he will have all the time he needs to deploy his armies and hit us from every direction, when we least expect it. He’ll either use the departure of his spies as the signal for attack, or he’ll move against us while they are still here.”

“Would he sacrifice his friends that callously?" My father was still thinking of Lot in terms of normal human decency.

“The man has no friends, Father. He wouldn’t think twice about it. I believe Lot of Cornwall intends to initiate all-out war against us, no less than three days from today, and no more than five. So let’s say four days, but be prepared for three. And he’ll be right here at our gates.”

The silence that followed this assertion seemed to last forever. It was my father, clutching at straws, who broke it. “Cay, I’m not disputing your logic, but there’s one flaw in it. Our own people are out there, throughout our lands. If Lot’s army were to attempt to approach us, no matter how carefully, we would have word of it.”

Even as he was speaking, I shook my head, denying him that avenue, which I had already considered. “Would we, Father? Don’t forget his two hundred bowmen with their arrows that can kill with a scratch. Those people could move in a circle around us on a mile-wide front and kill every living soul. Especially if they did it in stealth. We haven’t got that many people out there, and those who do live on the farms tend to congregate, after working all day. There would be no survivors to escape with warnings. The same applies to our sentries and outposts. Poisoned arrows! All it takes is a scratch. Uther, how long does it take a man to die?”

“All of the men I lost were dead within half an hour. Less than half that time for most of them.” He was looking at my father, who listened, palefaced.

“Father,” I said, my voice as gentle as I could make it, “we have to assume that the people in and around Camulod itself, the people we can hear and see, are the only people left alive in the entire countryside who are not our enemies.”

“That is monstrous!”

“Monstrous and evil. But it is typical of Lot of Cornwall, who is an evil monster.”

He was convinced. “So be it! What do you suggest we do?" He was himself again. I changed my tone.

“We move. Immediately. Uther, not much rest for you tonight, Cousin. We’d better get Titus and Flavius in here, Father. We’re going to need them.”

He struck the small gong on his table and instructed the soldier who came at its summons.

Uther sighed and stretched himself. “What have you got in mind, Cay?”

“Your envoys. I don’t want them to suspect that we are mobilizing. They must know nothing. The only thing I want them to think is that we are as stupid and unsuspecting as they assume us to be. Fortunately, if my suspicions are right, they’ll take our treatment of them at face value. I want an unobtrusive guard placed over them, but I want them to know it’s there. Keep them away from any place or any person that might make them suspicious of what we are doing. In the meantime, I’ve already sent word to the stewards of our breeding farms to assemble all our animals for a census. We made those arrangements by sheer chance, before we knew anything of this, but it means our horses will all be gathered right where we need them.

“Lot already knows that Uther had his four hundred horsemen with him, so he’ll be expecting to find them here. That’s good. They’ll be here, but what I’m thinking of is that difference you mentioned, Father, of over six hundred horses. We know we’re stronger than anyone else suspects. I’ll be surprised if we have less than seven thousand souls living in the Colony, scattered throughout our camps and farms?" It was a question, but neither of them reacted.

“Do you agree? About seven thousand, counting women and children?”

My father nodded. “Aye, that many at least. Our numbers have been growing steadily for years. We have more than two thousand here in Camulod itself, within and around the walls. We’ve always concentrated on our strength—our ability to defend ourselves—but in the past few years, what with one thing and another, we seem to have lost sight of numbers.”

“What about the records?”

“The fact is no one has checked very closely for some time. The last count I remember placed our numbers around four thousand, but that was some years ago.”

“How many years ago?”

“Four, perhaps five. Our main priority at the time was to grow enough food to feed everyone. We cleared more land and recultivated several of the abandoned farms around our perimeter. If you remember, you were worried at the time about the extra patrolling that would be involved.”

“I recall it well,” I said. “But I think you’ll be surprised, when you check our rolls again, at just how much we have grown.”

Uther interrupted me. “You’ve sidetracked yourself, Cay. You were talking about my four hundred cavalry. What was the point you were going to make?”

“That they should stay here, to defend the fort. In the meantime, I’d like to send another thousand horsemen secretly out of the Colony.”

“A thousand?”

I shrugged. “They may not all be astride cavalry mounts, but I’ll wager we have the horses, and we have the men to ride them. The men won’t all be fully equipped, either, but they’ll be able to sit on a horse and hold a spear and they’ll frighten the spirit out of Lot’s army when they appear unexpectedly at their back!" They were both looking at me, their eyes begging to be convinced. “Uther. Where are your four hundred billeted now?”

“Victorex’s old place. But we dismissed them for forty-eight hours, remember?”

“Damnation! Well, that’s acceptable. They’ll stay and be recalled here on duty when their leave is over. Damnation! They are our best. I had hoped to replace them with other, lesser troops, but no matter. When it comes time for them to strike with us they’ll be invaluable. Please see that they are back on duty here tomorrow night. I’ll raise our extra thousand from the other camps and farms.

“I want a column of a thousand mounted men on the move to the northeast by noon tomorrow. More, if we can manage it. The commissariat will have to be instructed as soon as possible to prepare rations for ten days for at least that many men. We’ll have to disperse them in a fan. I don’t want the tracks of a thousand horsemen to be visible. I don’t care how that’s done, but it’s essential. If I’m right, Lot’s people will come in from the south and west. Ours will have a chance to get out to the north and east if they move quickly, but if they leave visible evidence of their passing, Lot will know they’re out there.

“In addition to that, I want to recall every man from every outpost on our borders. That will seem suspicious to Lot, I know, but we’ll declare a festival of some kind. I don’t care. I just want them back here, within walking distance of the safety of the walls. Remember, we’re supposed to think the danger’s over for a while. We can relax our vigilance.”

Another thought occurred to me. “How are our stores? Can we sustain a siege, Father?”

“Yes, for at least a month.”

“Good. We won’t need that long, with any good fortune. The stores and supplies down in the villa buildings should be loaded up during the next few days, ready to move up here to the fort at the first sign of trouble. Have I missed anything?”

Uther spoke up. “What about our people? The Colonists here in the fort? Shouldn’t we warn them?”

I considered that briefly and vetoed it with a terse shake of my head. “Can’t afford to, Uther. It’s too dangerous. They have to behave normally, for the benefit of the watchers. All we can do is bring as many of them in close as we can. Of course, if we declare a holiday, a celebration of our victories and your safe return, then that will get them here. That could be done tomorrow, too. We’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Not so suddenly, at any rate,” said my father.

“All the better, then.” I had that good feeling that comes of recognition of a right idea. “So this is unprecedented. A spontaneous holiday. Let everyone believe the feasting will start tomorrow night and continue the following day. Father, you’ll have to make your invitation sound genuine, and yet peremptory. Everyone is to attend. You’ll have to inform the Council of what’s afoot, too.”

“I’ll have to do that, anyway.”

“Then do it early, as soon as possible, but send the word out first. We need our people safely here as soon as possible. If worst comes to worst, how many people can we hold in Camulod?”

“More than we have. Far more. No problem there.”

“Good. Our Colonists have been training for this for years. Now we can only hope the training has been adequate.”

Titus announced his arrival at that point with a soft cough from the open door, and Flavius came up behind him.

“Come in, both of you,” my father said, “and close the door at your back. Pull up that chair, Titus. Flavius, you’ll find an extra one in the other room. We have an emergency situation on our hands.”

It was approaching midnight by the time we got out of there. Everyone knew what had to be done, and his part in the operation, and each of us was aware of the need for speed and unobtrusiveness. We were launched on a major campaign, and the very existence of our Colony depended on the speed and the efficiency with which we handled it.

My own initial part was simple and straightforward. I had to alert Ludo and the commissariat to the urgency of the unexpected requirements we were placing on them. It was also my responsibility to make all the arrangements for the removal of extra stores and supplies to the fortress on the following day. This I could handle without raising any suspicions. Since I had already made arrangements to conduct my census, the people at all our depots were expecting me. No one would be surprised by my arrival.

Over everything else in my mind, however, hung a shadow I had placed there with my own words earlier in the evening, when I declared that only those we could see or hear could be presumed to be still alive. Cassandra’s safety haunted me. I knew that her refuge was well hidden and far removed from the beaten track. Lot’s marauders would not be seeking signs of life on her hilltop. But the image of the faint track down through the valley to her hiding-place terrified me, and I knew I could have no peace of mind until I had assured myself that there were no visible signs of my entry or egress there. Although I knew I had always taken the greatest pains to leave no sign of my movements there, I determined to be there with her before daybreak, to check her safe concealment again.

I left my father’s quarters and went straight to the kitchens, where I found Ludo still active. As I entered, I met one of my own men emerging. It was his misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I sent him down to the villa with a message to Strato, our masseur, to have the fires banked and the steam room ready, and to be prepared to give me a complete working over within the next two hours. I also told him to have my horse saddled and waiting for me with the guards at the main gate.

Ludo was surprised to see me at that hour. He had been supervising a general clean-up of his kitchens and was just on his way to bed when I arrived. The refectory was empty. I sat him down and told him what I required of him and his face wrinkled wryly as he realized that he was likely to be more busy than he had anticipated over the course of the next few days. I left him taking a renewed interest in his inventory, and went to visit Questus, our senior quartermaster, to tell him the story. He at least had managed to sleep for several hours prior to my disruption of his schedule, and he accepted the situation philosophically, recognizing the urgency involved and moving immediately to accommodate it.

My next stop was at the quarters of Lucanus, our chief medical officer. Since the affair of Cassandra’s disappearance, he and I had been on terms of mutually respectful civility, but we would never be friends, I thought, or more than formally cordial in our dealings with each other. He, too, had been asleep for hours, but his discipline had accustomed him to being called upon at any time, so he was alert and already thinking ahead as I brought him up to date. I could see him mentally taking stock of bandages, splints, medications and the like as I spoke. To him, as to each of the others, I was careful to emphasize the necessity of concealing all preparations from the eyes of the visiting envoys.

It was the darkest part of the night by the time I left him, and I was twice challenged by sentries as I made my way to the main gate, carrying a torch that was beginning to burn low. I had completely forgotten my promise to talk to Donuil the Hibernian. My horse was saddled and waiting for me as I had ordered, and I could see the speculation in the eyes of the guards as I approached.

“Did the trooper I sent out get back yet?”

“Yes, Commander. About an hour ago.”

“Good. He’ll be asleep by now. Lucky man. And my masseur down at the villa will be cursing my sleeplessness, which is now his. How long till dawn?”

They glanced at each other, and the one who had spoken before replied, “About two and a half hours, Commander.”

“Good. By that time I’ll be bathed, oiled, rubbed down and wide awake, though my name will be unkindly mentioned by the people I’ll be inspecting at such an ungodly hour. Take this, will you?" I handed him my guttering torch, and pulled myself up into the saddle. “One thing about being prepared for a nasty, unpopular job is that nobody else ever is. Good night to you!" I kicked my horse forward as they opened the great gates for me, and left them looking at each other, no doubt in agreement that all officers were insane and bloody-minded tyrants.

The moon had set, but the skies were clear, and as my eyes adjusted to the starlight I discovered that I could see more than adequately for the journey down the road to the villa, where lights were burning in the bath house.