The Singing Sword cc-2

by Jack Whyte

  "You think so? That surprises me."

  Caius smiled. "Why, General? Because I knew the old infantry legions? That doesn't make me blind to changing needs."

  Stilicho grunted. "Hmmm! I wish I could say the same of most of your colleagues, Proconsul. Can you guess why I have come to Britain?"

  Now Caius laughed outright. "Easily. You are here to train your troops in action against an enemy who can offer them no opposition on land." Stilicho's face broke into a smile as Caius went on. "The Saxons have never seen disciplined cavalry. Neither have the invaders from the north. They can have no possible defences against your forces. You will smash them easily and quickly, blood your troops, and show the world the value of your strategy and tactics."

  "By God, Caius Britannicus, I wish you were twenty years younger! I'd recommission you immediately and give you an army group! You think the way I do. If I had fifty commanders like you, I could turn the tides of history around and undo all the damage of the past two hundred years!"

  I felt my stomach tighten as I saw Caius decide to gamble. "I already have an army, General Stilicho," he said. "It is a small enough one, but it is fine. It stands at your disposal, now or in the future."

  Stilicho frowned. "What do you mean, you have an army? You mean your colonists?"

  "Aye, General, our colonists." Caius's concurring nod of the head was slow and proud.

  "How many of you are there?"

  Caius looked at me and I shrugged. "About a thousand, in uniform," I said.

  "In uniform? You mean a real army?"

  I nodded. "We also have a hundred heavy cavalry like yours."

  "Heavy cavalry? Where did you get the horses?"

  "Bred them from our own stock, General."

  "And the riders?" His face was expressionless.

  "We trained them ourselves."

  "Who is 'we'?"

  I glanced at Caius again before answering, "I am, I suppose. The ideas are mine, trial and error. I pass my instructions on to other instructors."

  "How do you train your people? What tactics do you use?"

  I shrugged my shoulders again, marvelling at the way this catechism was running with no word of condemnation. "As I said, that was hit or miss, General. However, we did study the campaigns of Alexander of Macedon and tried to reconstruct the way he must have fought. It was the Proconsul's idea."

  "Good God! That's where I began. How long have your people been engaged in this?"

  "About ten years."

  "I can't believe it! You have a breeding program for your horses?"

  "Aye, we do. But our horses are not as big as yours. Not yet."

  He rose to his feet and began to pace, his hands gripping each other loosely behind his back, and for a space of time there was silence. Then, "Tell me about this western land of yours, Proconsul. What problems concern you out there?"

  I could see that Caius sensed a reason behind his question and was taking care with his answer, thinking it through and phrasing it judiciously. "Very few problems, General Stilicho, compared to the rest of the province. Our major difficulties have been arising recently from the removal of the western garrisons for the strengthening of other parts of the province: the Saxon Shore and the northern frontier regions."

  Stilicho listened carefully as Caius went on to talk of our alliance with Ullic and his Celts and of the growing need we had found to lend our protection to our neighbours in the area around the Colony. When Caius had finished, Stilicho hummed thoughtfully and sat down again, deep in thought. I caught Caius's eye and he gave me the Britannican eyebrow. Finally Stilicho spoke again.

  "This matter of the garrisons — their depletion and abandonment. I regret to have to tell you there is little I can do about it. I need every man I have to contain this invasion from the north and to guard against a repetition of it after I have gone."

  Caius blinked at him. "But you have just arrived, General! Are you leaving already?"

  "No." He shook his head and nibbled on a piece of bread. "But I cannot remain here long. The world takes a lot of governing. I'll see this campaign launched and on its way to victory, and then I'll leave it in your son's hands to finish properly. I must be back in Rome within the year. I dare not stay away longer. My wife is looking after the Emperor in my absence, and after the Empire, too, incidentally, and while I have no doubts about her competence, she is a woman, with a woman's weaknesses as well as strengths." He smiled with genuine warmth. "Serena is formidable, but she tends to be naive in certain things and tentative in others. She will throw anyone in jail who seems to need jailing, for example, but she also tends to resist making decisions about who has to die for crimes committed. Each time I go home I find my jails are filled to capacity and sometimes beyond." He turned to me with a quick grin. "That, as I am sure you appreciate, can be a very uncomfortable situation demanding immediate redress."

  I smiled and said nothing and he turned back to Caius.

  "So, Proconsul, as I was saying, I cannot remain long in Britain, nor can I regarrison the western forts. One thing I can do, however... if you would be willing to accept my notion." He stopped, waiting for a reaction. I wondered what was in his mind. A glance at Caius showed me that he was wondering the same.

  Caius cleared his throat. "Try me, General. I will be honoured to consider any suggestions you have, and happy should they improve our security out there."

  Stilicho stood up and stepped away from the table, and picked up a rolled parchment from a pile that lay on a side table against the wall. I watched him in silence as he came back to the table and placed one foot on his chair. Deep in thought, he leaned one elbow on his upraised knee and tapped the palm of his other hand with the parchment scroll. Finally he pursed his lips and sucked air audibly between his teeth.

  "I am thinking of an agreement between us, Proconsul Britannicus, to our mutual benefit. The idea had occurred to me earlier, but now I like it even more than I did before.

  I will recognize your Colony, officially and legally, if you will accept my commission to serve as my Legatus Emeritus of Irregular Forces in the South-west." He saw the extent of our shock in our eyes and continued. "I told you earlier, there are too few good men around me I can really trust. There are too many Senecas. I need the unquestioning support and loyalty of people like yourselves. And you, in turn, need the absolution I can tender for your transgressions against imperial law. It would mean much to your Colony — legal status, for a beginning, with no need to worry about inspections or investigations in the future. It would also mean that you could legitimately acquire bloodstock for your horse herds through my own administrative people."

  I felt my heart beginning to thump loudly in my breast. This was far more than we would ever have dared hope for. There had to be a negative aspect somewhere! I knew that Caius was thinking the same thoughts when he sucked in a deep breath.

  "General Stilicho," he said, "I will not lie to you. The idea excites me. I have, nevertheless, a duty to my people to consider. You said a mutually beneficial agreement, and so far everything you have said has been to our advantage. What would you expect of us in return?"

  Stilicho smiled, showing his white teeth. It was a pleasant smile, but I had the feeling that, with a very small change, it could be a chilling one. "Protection of my interests, support, loyalty and a total commitment to my plans for Britain."

  Caius paused, holding his breath, and then breathed out. "You will forgive my asking, I hope, General Stilicho, but what do your plans for Britain consist of?"

  He was still smiling. "Prosperity, peace and an ongoing presence of law and order in the land. I have an invasion to deal with in the north, as you know. I also have to contend with incessant raiding in the east, north-east and south-east. High in the north-west, we have only minor problems. The land seems too inhospitable up there. But in those other areas I need every man in the armies of Britain, and that means I need even more of the garrisons of the west. I am going to have to strip them to a sk
eletal presence. That is where I would like to be able to rely on you. Your army, as you call it, may be small, but I would venture to guess that it is quite superb. I need it. And I need it where it is. Your side of the agreement would be to continue your activities as they have been, but to enlarge and expand them. I will provide you with horses, if you can provide the men. I will also give you a signed authority by my own hand. What say you?"

  Both of us watched Caius closely as he considered his answer. He looked at me for help of some kind, I know not what, but all I could do was grin foolishly and nod. I thought it was a marvellous idea. Caius was gnawing his bottom lip. Finally he shrugged and told Stilicho what was in his mind.

  "This is a grave decision, General. It will have far-reaching consequences for our Colony. By rights, it should be discussed in Council. But I know there is no time for that, so the decision devolves on me. I like it. It has the feel of propriety, of correctness. There is no way that I can see the existence of such an agreement compromising our plans for our future, since we are committed only to survival in the event of abandonment. Co-operation can only lessen the possibility of that abandonment. I agree. I will sign an agreement between us."

  Stilicho thumped the table. "Excellent! I will have my clerks draw it up. Now, is there anything else you can think of that you might need, apart from the commission itself and horses? I know you do not use money in your Colony. Or do you?"

  Caius shook his head. "No, we do not. We try to be self-sufficient. There is nothing more I can think of now. I could not ask for more, General."

  Stilicho grinned, briefly. "Yes you could, but being you, you will not. And that is as it should be. I have to leave, but you may stay here. Picus will join you presently. He is off duty now. You three will have much to discuss, I think."

  He shook my hand again before he left.

  XV

  Picus, as it turned out, did not join us that night. Extra duties required him elsewhere. Shortly after the departure of the Imperial Regent, however, a messenger arrived from Caius's son, bearing his apologies and asking us to meet him at the basilica in the town forum the following morning, where he would be presiding over a civil court as Stilicho's deputy. As soon as the proceedings there were over, the messenger informed us, Picus would take us on an inspection tour of his cavalry encampment, five miles south of the town.

  We sent word back that we would be there early — they closed and locked the doors after the arrival of the magistrates — and then went together in search of food. But even that was not to be permitted us. An imperial clerk waylaid us as we approached the commissary and informed Caius that he would require several hours of work from him, beginning early in the morning, in order to prepare the paperwork concerned with Stilicho's commission and its ramifications. Caius made a face, asked a few questions, and then turned to me, bidding the clerk wait.

  "Forgive me, Publius, but you're going to have to eat alone on your first night as a free man. You know what this nonsense is like. What these people call 'several hours' could easily take days, keeping us here when we'd both rather be headed for home, so I might as well make a start on it right now, while it's all fresh in my mind."

  I nodded. "What about tomorrow morning? The meeting with Picus?"

  He smiled, ruefully, shaking his head. "Impossible for me. You go alone. Picus will be happy to see you, and to show you his camp. He's very proud of it."

  "I'm sure he is. But what about you?"

  "What about me? I've spent many hours with Picus in the past week or so. You and he haven't seen each other in twenty years."

  Hearing the words spoken suddenly made me feel how quickly time had passed.

  "What's he like, Cay? Has he changed much?"

  Cay grinned, his face glowing with pride. "He's my son, what should he be like?" He stopped himself and began again. "No, I'll answer you honestly, Publius. He is... magnificent. I would not have known him had I seen him in the street, nor would you. But I'll tell you no more. You deserve the same pleasant surprise I had. Mind you, I always used to jest with my wife Heraclita that one of her grandmothers had come overly close to a northern slave... My first sight of my son in twenty years convinced me that the jest might have been closer to the truth than I suspected!" He smiled again, and grasped my arm in farewell. "Give him my love, and enjoy your time with him. I'll be here when you get back, and I hope we'll be able to leave for home soon after that."

  He nodded again, then left immediately with the waiting clerk to begin the preliminary work of drafting the details of what he and Stilicho had discussed. I went on to dine alone and retired early.

  I rolled from my bed two hours before sunrise the next morning, into the wintry chill of a dank blackness filled with the hissing roar of pelting rain. Feeling very sorry for myself for all I had been through recently, I splashed my face with icy water and made my way to the commissary, where many others were beginning their day, few of them looking any happier than I felt. Seated close to the kitchens, however, I began to feel distinctly better. The bakers had been working all night, as usual, and the kitchens were warm from the heat of the stone ovens and filled with the aroma of new-baked bread.

  I broke my fast on new, crusty bread and thick, hot oat porridge with fresh, creamy milk and then made my way to the bath house, where I found a press of bodies already in the sudarium. All of us were content to ignore each other as we steamed our way communally back towards humanity. The rain stopped just before daybreak, and as I left the bath house, sunbeams began breaking through the cloud masses in the east.

  Less than an hour later, I presented myself to the garrison guards on duty at the forum basilica and asked to speak with the Officer of the Day. I was told that he had not yet arrived, and was directed to wait in an anteroom off the main entrance hall. Though I was on the point of drawing myself to my full height and telling them just who I was and who I was there to meet, I decided instead to do as advised. No Imperial Household Troops, these guards were ordinary infantry grunts trying to be pleasant while doing a boring and unsatisfying task. I nodded my thanks and made my way to the doorway the guard had indicated, where I paused on the threshold, looking around before I entered.

  The room in front of me was long and narrow and dim — I guessed at twenty paces long by six wide — and the only source of light was a double-arched, unglazed window in the far wall, opposite the doorway. A recessed, double doorway in the wall directly to the left inside the entrance was closed and guarded by two erect, stiff-postured legionaries, and a bored-looking clerk sat to the right of them, at a large, plain table piled with written records. Beyond him, filling the entire room, was what seemed to me a multitude of people, all evidently waiting to see someone, and all, obviously, ahead of me.

  The clerk glanced up indolently as I approached his table, asked my name but not my business, and told me to have a seat. I bit my tongue again and turned away to do as he said, but the two long benches against the side walls were filled, as were the two shorter, back-to-back benches in the middle of the floor, and I could see no place to sit. So I walked the length of the room, picking my way carefully between the rows of outstretched feet, and stood with my back to the wall in the small open space in front of the only window, from which point I counted heads and examined the room's occupants.

  There was nothing unusual about them, except that it seemed to me as though they all wished they could be somewhere else. I did, too, but at least I knew I would, in fact, be going somewhere else as soon as Picus appeared. Had that not been the case, I reckoned idly that I would have been twenty-fourth in line. I revised that, however, by examining the crowd more closely. I identified several people who were evidently alone, wrapped in their own concerns, but the majority, I could see now, were in pairs, and there were two groups of three. I wondered what kinds of confrontations and disputes there were to be resolved here, and what kind of a judge Picus would seem to those who sought justice from him as the Regent's deputy.

  They
were silent, for the most part, and unaware of my scrutiny, avoiding each other's eyes and biding their time stoically. When any of them did speak among themselves, they did so in whispers, and I realized that most of them, if not all of them, were afraid and ill at ease — which was not surprising, when I considered where they were and the probable nature of their business with the military administration and civic authorities in Londinium. I classified most of them as ordinary townsfolk, their drab, muted dress ranging through various shades of plain browns and greys. Three men grouped together at the far end of the room were obviously farmers, and two others, huddled close together on the bench to my right and arguing in fierce whispers, appeared, from the slightly better quality of their robes, to be merchants of some description. None of them even glanced at me and I soon grew bored.

  I had been aware for some time of a ragged nail, on the little finger of my left hand, snagging annoyingly on the wool of my cape. Now, to pass the time, I settled my back against the wall, unsheathed my skystone knife and began to pare the rough edge. As I was doing so, I became aware of someone coming towards me and glanced up. It was one of the men who had been seated alone, just inside the room, close to the two guards. He was a big, burly fellow with close-set eyes and a bad squint, and his nose had been flattened at some time in the distant past. His feet were encased in heavy, felt boots and he was wrapped entirely in a thick cloak, its end thrown up over his left shoulder so that his arms were completely covered. His eyes were fixed on my knife, probably because of the amazing brightness of the blade, but as he saw me look at him he looked away, towards the window behind me. His face was expressionless. He came to a stop about a pace from the window, just in front of me and to my right, and the stink of him made me catch my breath. I ignored him, but opened my lips to breathe through my mouth in an attempt to avoid having to smell him. I tested the now-smooth edge of my nail with a fingertip and slipped my knife back into its sheath before glancing at him again. He seemed to be leaning backwards, slightly, so as to keep the shadow of the window's arch across his face. Idly, not really interested, I pushed my back away from the wall, turned and followed his gaze out into the courtyard beyond the window to see what he was looking at, hoping that whatever it was would be boring, so that he would take himself and his smell back to the far end of the room.