Camulod Chronicles Book 3 - The Eagles' Brood

by Whyte, Jack

  Whatever that expression in their eyes signified, I found it disconcerting to die point of being almost frightening. Then I remembered the name of the Hebrew fanatics of biblical times, the followers of Simon Zelotes, the Zealots, the men who would gladly die for their own, steeped-in-blood beliefs. You could tell simply by looking at these men that they believed, deep in their souls, that they were the masters here and we were all their inferiors. There was no deference or civility apparent in the demeanour of any of them. They looked around them at the assembly with sneers of defiance on their faces, and then their leader took one long step forward and addressed my father in a loud, hectoring tone that no one in the assembly hall could fail to hear.

  "I assume, Picus Britannicus, from the numbers you have assembled here, that you have decided to make public your renouncement of the heretic Pelagius and his misguided teachings and to seek the forgiveness of Holy Mother Church!" Someone seated in the circle of the hall drew in his breath with an audible hiss, but the priest continued, "It is only fair to advise you, however, that in the light of your treatment of myself and these of my brethren who have shared your prison with me, the clemency you seek might be slower in being granted than it might otherwise have been. To lay hands on, or to offer insult to, the envoys of the Holy Father in Rome is not the best way to seek the favour of the Church."

  The speaker, a tall and emaciated man who could have been any age from twenty-five to thirty-five, had a voice that grated on the ears. His face was so thin as to appear cadaverous and I knew his breath would be rancid and foul. My father swept him with his eyes from the hem of his garment to the top of his head and then spoke as though the priest had never opened his mouth.

  "I have assembled these people here to witness the delivery of the decision I promised you when we last spoke." He paused, seeming to weigh his words. "I am Commander here—Commander-in-Chief of this Colony. In terms of years, I am an old man, although by the grace of God, I am still young enough and healthy—"

  "I warn you, Britannicus! You stand excommunicate! Speak not of the grace of God in terms of yourself. You blaspheme!"

  This outburst produced a shocked reaction from the assembly. My father gestured for silence, then drew a deep, deep breath and held it until his face began to grow red, at which point he released the pent-up air steadily and audibly. I, who knew all the signs, had never seen him so angry. The tall priest, however, stood his ground boldly, his face a mask of arrogant intransigence.

  Finally, my father spoke, his words slow and sibilant, his voice pitched ominously low. "Priest, hear me clearly and without distortion. I dislike threats, either given or received. And I dislike hasty judgments. Most of all, however, I dislike bad manners. You are here to hear my decision on a matter of great Import, and by the crucified Christ, Son of the Living God, you will hear it in courteous silence if I have to have you stifled and bound hand and foot!"

  Again he quelled an outburst, this time of approval, with a glance of implacable anger, so that the spontaneous support subsided immediately. He returned his eyes to the priests. "Hear me, now! I suffered your abuse and your scandalous tongue in silence for hours yesterday... That was yesterday. Today, it is my turn to speak, and not only will any interruption be unwelcome, it will not be tolerated! I will, as I have said, stifle you and bind you if you force me to. The choice is yours." He paused, awaiting a reaction, and receiving none, continued.

  "I am a soldier. As a young soldier, I had no time for religious pursuits. As I have grown older, however, I have made some study of the Christian doctrine, particularly the spread of it in Britain. It has been, by and large, a Roman religion, spread, over the years, through Roman settlement and Roman civilization. The people of Britain are not, or have not been until recently, predominantly Christian. In the past few years, since the withdrawal of Rome, they have had other things to occupy them. Survival, for example... The people of this land are beset on every side by invaders. North, south, east and west, they have to contend with Picts, Saxons, Angles, Jutes, Franks and Scots. All of these come to kill, to conquer and despoil, to pillage and destroy. None of them have the slightest regard for the people of Britain other than as sacrificial sheep.

  "If you travel elsewhere in Britain you will find temples to the old gods, still in use. The foothold of the Christian Church in this land is tenuous, at best. That it exists at all is due to the efforts of the bishops here in Britain, men like our own Bishop Alaric, whose saintly piety and caring gave hope to the people who knew him. When a man, or a woman, can have no hope of being able to keep anything he or she owns for any length of time, then that person's sense of personal dignity and worth, his own integrity, becomes special to him. Bishop Alaric and his fellows worked hard to keep the people of this land free from despair. They taught them love, charity and the belief in the merciful omnipotence of God and His Son, Jesus... They offered people the hope of happiness beyond this squalid and vexatious life on earth, and they adopted the tenets of Pelagius, because they believed his teachings and beliefs to be righteous and wholesome in the eyes of God." He paused again and such was the power of iris delivery that none attempted to interrupt him. Eventually he continued.

  "Let me repeat that. Alaric and his fellow bishops believed that the ways and the teachings of Pelagius were righteous and wholesome in the eyes of God. By direct association, Alaric and his like saw no dichotomy between the tenets of Pelagius and the word of the Christ Himself." The tall priest made as if to speak but he was cut off by the savage, chopping motion of my father's hand. "And now," my father went on, his voice level and temperate, his delivery slow and considered, "now, in the space of three short days, we are ordered—not requested—to accept the allegation—not the fact—that Pelagius is apostate, that his teachings are sinful, and that our beloved friend and mentor, Bishop Alaric of Verulamium, was a sinful man, misguided and inept, irresponsible and incompetent...

  "We are commanded to recant our allegedly profane beliefs; to accept your unsubstantiated assurance that our entire way of life is in error; to admit, under pain of eternal damnation, that your way of worshipping our God is the right way and the only way; and to sue for your clemency. We are required to review our entire social structure and to relegate our own womenfolk to an inferior status that is entirely alien to us as Celts and Romans in the first place, and to the entire social mores of the people of Britain thereafter."

  Picus's voice was the only sound audible in the room. He paused once more to let all he had said sink home to his listeners, then continued. "All of this you made abundantly clear to me yesterday. You made it painfully clear. And I told you then that I would consider your words and your message and arrive at a decision on how life in this Colony is to proceed from this day forth. In the meantime, you have been kept apart from my people. Imprisoned, as you choose to describe it. Let me point out to you that the laws of hospitality in this Colony and in this land are sacrosanct, and mutually binding upon host and visitor... It was you who forced my hand in the matter of your detention, by causing unnecessary, unwarranted and unprecedented strife beneath my roof. I chose to extend that detention after my interview with you yesterday, because your intolerant zeal alarmed me when I considered the effect it might have among these people of ours, who are simple people, unused to sophistry, oratory and semantics.

  "It is with my mind attentive to the needs and the general welfare of the people of our Colony that I have deliberated upon your words and made my decision. I have said I am a soldier. I am no philosopher, nor am I a theologist, but for better or worse, I have a responsibility for the welfare of this Colony, and I believe in fulfilling one's responsibilities. It is therefore my responsibility, I believe, to learn more of these sweeping changes of which you bring word, and to seek assurance from the highest level of authority to which I can gain access that such changes come as the result of careful consideration and debate, and are not foisted upon us simply at the whim of a mere man or even a group of men seeking to furthe
r their own aims. It would be irresponsible of me to accept your assertions at face value: they are too sweeping, too extreme and too important to be taken lightly. That is my administrative decision, as Commander- in-Chief of this Colony. Take it with you back to Rome... We are not obdurate, but neither are we prepared to risk endangering our immortal souls without prudent investigation of the circumstances governing this signal change of posture within the Church." He paused again, and again the silence held until he resumed.

  "On the other hand, as a man and a soldier, I find that I have no sympathy for your point of view. I find this idea of Monasticism both odious and offensive. It seems unnatural. Had Jesus wished his followers to behave in this fashion, He would have clearly stated so, or so it seems to me. He was an articulate speaker on all other things. I hear no misogyny in the Words of Jesus. Was it not He who said: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone?... That, sir priest, tells me that the Christ Himself recognized man's right to responsibility and self-determination. I will embrace the tenets of Pelagius personally, until someone more wholesome and more reasonable than you convinces me that I am wrong."

  The priest could bear his own silence no longer. "You are accursed!" he cried out. "You are blasted with the sin of Lucifer, gross pride! And you will burn in Hades!"

  My father's patience finally snapped and his voice became brittle with disgust. "Get these people out of my sight! Popilius, see to it they are given food and drink and have them taken under heavy escort to the borders of our land and forbidden re-entry." He had to shout to make himself heard above the imprecations of the priests who were now all shouting, creating pandemonium. Popilius's men must have been waiting directly outside, for they appeared immediately and began herding the shouting zealots out of the hall, and even after they had left, their shouting continued. "Popilius!" My father's voice had risen to a roar.

  "General?"

  "A heavy escort. I want those people out of here quickly and I want them out now. Put them in a wagon. Gag them if you have to."

  Popilius left and my father sat down again, ashen-faced. For a long time nobody in the Hall moved or spoke. The shouting outside died away into silence. Then Julius Terrix, leader of the Council and the son of one of the first Colonists, rose to his feet.

  "Picus Britannicus. You have said that your decision is to be inviolable for twenty-four hours, and you have taken upon yourself an awesome responsibility in behaving as you have this day." I felt tension knotting in the pit of my stomach anew, but he went on, "I have no right to speak for any other here, since we have not acted as a Council in this matter, but I, personally, endorse your stance, your decision, and the thoughtfulness with which you presented it. On behalf of myself and my wife, I thank you."

  Everyone in the room must have been holding his breath, as I was, waiting for Julius Terrix to make his pronouncement, for as soon as his thanks were uttered the entire circle of men were on their feet, cheering my father in a way that I had never heard before. I crossed to his side, my heart swelling with pride and affection, and offered him my hand, and only the steely pressure of his fingers on my arm betrayed how relieved he was by the general approval of his actions. I nodded to him and would have left him to his congratulations, but he retained his hold on my arm and pulled me aside.

  "Well," he grunted. "That's one burden out of the way."

  I grinned at him. "Aye, and well out of the way."

  He frowned. "It will come back, believe me. We have not heard the last of this affair."

  I blinked at him. "You said 'one burden,' Father. Are there others?"

  "Aye. One other, but now it's yours."

  I stared at him, wordless, and he continued, speaking in a low voice and glancing around to make sure no one could overhear him.

  "They've turned me into an Administrator, Gay, and tied me to this Council Chamber. My soldiering days are over." He held up a peremptory hand to cut off my protest. "No, hear me, boy, and listen well. I am not unhappy about what I am saying. Nor is this any sudden whim or hasty decision. The matter has been in my mind for long months now. It's time for you to take command, formally, of our fighting forces." He paused, eyeing me keenly, one brow high on his forehead. "I'm not saying I'm too old, boy, so don't look at me that way. What I am saying is that you are ready for command and I have other matters, some of them vital, demanding more of my attention. I will still ride out to battle as and when the need arises, but time is pouring through my fingers like sand and there is too much to be done here in Camulod. That is my decision and there is no alternative, no recourse. You command. Uther will answer to you, and you will still answer to me in all but military decisions. There the last word is yours from this time on. Are we agreed?"

  "Yes," I said, finally, bereft of words and fighting an urge to stammer, "but—"

  "No buts. I shall inform the others—everyone—this evening. You have earned this position, my son. Now live with it." He gripped me, briefly and hard by the upper arm, nodding and smiling. "I look forward to serving under you, Caius Britannicus."

  He spun on his heel and went to join his well-wishers without looking back, leaving me with my chaotic thoughts. Finally I collected myself and made my way out of the hall and back to my quarters in order to rid myself of my cumbersome finery before the noon meal.

  I was surprised and pleased to find young Prince Donuil waiting for me in my rooms. He rose as I entered and nodded to me in a gracious, not unfriendly manner. I grinned at him and threw my cloak across the table that served as my desk.

  "Good morning. I hope you have not been waiting too long? There was a Council meeting."

  "I know. I found one of your soldiers who speaks my tongue. He told me there was great excitement. Then I heard all the shouting and commotion in the yard. I thought about going to see what was happening, but there was anger in the voices, so I came here instead."

  "A wise move. Yes, there was anger in the voices, beyond a doubt."

  "What is going on? Or can you not tell me?"

  "Why not?" As I changed into my lighter uniform I told him what had been happening and how my father had resolved it.

  He listened in silence until I had finished and then said, quite simply, "Your father seems to be a man of principle. He and my own father would get along."

  "You think so? That's interesting. But you are right, my father is a man of principle. Are you a Christian?"

  He shook his head. "No. We've had priests working in our lands for some years now. They are harmless enough, and they have won some followers here and there, but not many, not in our lands, at least. Some of the other kings encourage them, though. One bishop in the West, a man called Patrick, is building a great following. There are wondrous tales about him. I think it will take more than tales, though, to make me give up the old ways."

  "You mean you would rather play than pray?"

  "I would rather fight."

  I grinned at him. "Aye, I'm sure you would. Let's go and find some food. Have you thought about what you might like to do while you are here with us?"

  "I have."

  "And?" I waited.

  "I'm half starved. Could we find the food first? I think I might find it easier to say what I have to say on a full stomach, and you yourself might not suffer in the listening, with a good foundation."

  I was intrigued. I could see that whatever it was he had decided upon had not come to him easily, but there was no truculence or resentment in his demeanour, so I led him across to the refectory by the kitchens and watched in amazement as he wolfed down three times the amount of food I ate. The place was quiet for the time of day, with only a few junior officers near us and one knot of off-duty troopers at the far end of the big room. Eventually my prisoner consumed the last of his bread and cheese and pushed his empty platter away with a contented grunt.

  "I can see now why you are so big," I said, smiling. "Is this part of a plan of yours? To eat us out of provenance and starve us into submission?" A few of the young of
ficers turned in surprise at the sound of my Celtic words. I ignored them and continued to smile at my prisoner, who gazed back at me for several moments, searching my comment for hidden meanings before his own face creased in a half smile.

  "It is in my mind that you and your people here would not submit to starvation."

  "I will not argue with you on that. What else is in your mind?"

  "It is in my mind, too, that I know Lot of Cornwall no better than I know you, having met the man only twice and briefly each time."

  "And?"

  "I believe that my people would have a more beneficial alliance with you, than with Lot."

  "How so?"

  He made to respond immediately but then paused and considered his words so that his face grew speculative before he said, "I am not sure. Something of honour, I think. You have honour and understand the need for it. The King of Cornwall deals little with it, from what I have learned."

  "How can you know that, Donuil, if you don't know the man?"

  He shrugged his huge shoulders. "How do I know if the sun is shining before I leave my hut in the morning? There are signs and sounds that announce it. There are signs that make it clear to me, also, that we of the Scotii would be better allied with your Colony."

  "But our Colony needs no allies. Especially in another land beyond the sea."

  "Perhaps not, Caius Merlyn, but ask yourself how great your need of enemies is, across the same sea?"

  "A good point, Prince Donuil!" I nodded in agreement. "If our enemies have allies across the sea, then we have enemies across the sea and should bestir ourselves to seek alliance there with others who could keep those enemies at home." He nodded, and I went on, "But that becomes complicated, even in the telling, and we have already solved the problem. Your presence here has cut the string from Lot's alliance. Your people are no threat to us, for now."