by Jack Whyte
"I wish I could spend all my life at sea, Merlyn, because I'm not suited to deal with stubborn, stupid, discontented people and their changing wishes all the time, and since my father died it seems that's all I've done. Sometimes I wish I had been born a kern with nothing more to worry over than my next good meal or my next bloody fight or even my next belly bump with some wet, willing woman..." He stopped, staring into the fire and picking idly at the hairs of his moustache. "But I was born my father's son, as we all are, and that means I must shoulder my father's burdens...
"Think of what was involved in moving all our folk from Eire, Merlyn! It was a fearsome task, demanding years, a whole lifetime, of effort, and it was my father's life that went into the doing of it. Oh, we all took part, but his was the vision. He was the one who had to face his people and convince them that the land could no longer support them and their neighbours and that wars and famine were unavoidable unless they, his people, did something they had never done before. Then, on top of that, he had to make them believe they could live better lives elsewhere, beyond the home their fathers had created from the forests, beyond their family fields, beyond Eire itself, in a distant land that none of them had ever seen. I tell you, my friend, I could never have done that, had the task been mine. But Athol Mac Iain did it, and then, having lit the flame of hope within their breasts, he brought them there in safety, despite a raging war against far greater numbers than he himself commanded.
"And what then? After it all was done and they were safely moved, many of the ingrates, hundreds strong, looked about them at the islands of their new home and decided he was wrong to have moved them! They could not stay there, they cried. They wanted to return, knowing well that the old place was lost to them and that no life there would be possible. Faugh!"
"They still wish to return, today?"
"No, they've already gone, long since... late last year, five hundred of them, not counting children."
"But how? Were they simply landed there and left to die in their old home?"
He looked at me quickly, frowning. "No, what do you take us for? They landed on the northern coast. They'll build a new home there."
"But what about Condran and his people? That's their territory, is it not?"
"It was." His voice was absolutely flat, and the way he said the two words, and then paused, raised the small hairs on the nape of my neck. Fortunately, his pause was brief, because when he spoke again I discovered I had been holding my breath.
"The Sons of Condran have seen change, as well. Brander's last voyage brought an end to them as any kind of force. He sailed right into their harbour and caught them unprepared, in high summer. He took a great risk in doing it, hazarding everything upon surprising them, but it succeeded. He planned his campaign carefully—drew off their main fleet in pursuit of part of his, and as soon as they had cleared the horizon, he struck at their home base, which lay upriver from the sea, much like our own old base to the south. Condran himself was killed in the early fighting, along with three of his blood sons. That kicked the resistance out of the remaining defenders.
"Brander then destroyed their shipyards systematically, managing to capture half a score of unmanned galleys in the process. He made sure that all their master shipbuilders had been either killed or captured —he knew all their names and paid willing turncoats in the town to betray their whereabouts, and he took pains to identify the corpse of each one who died in the fighting. He wanted to leave no possibility of new war galleys being built there in the time to come. Then he set fire to everything that could be burned, the entire town. When that had been achieved, he left some of our men to occupy the lookout posts in the approaches to the river mouth, to give no hint to the returning enemy galleys of anything being wrong, and he withdrew further down the coast to await the return of the enemy fleet. He attacked it in the river mouth and destroyed it by setting fire to all the galleys he had captured earlier and then driving them into the fleet. It was a crushing victory, final and complete. The Sons of Condran will not emerge from their holes again."
"What happened to the smaller part of Brander's fleet, the ships their main fleet chased?"
"Nothing. Brander had sent them out to sea, to pass by Condran's base unseen, on a southward course. Once there, they turned about and waited, concealed in a cove, for a foggy dawn. The remainder of Brander's fleet lay to the north. When the fog came down, the smaller group rowed northward as though they were returning from raiding to the south and were lost in the fog banks, so that they had blundered and been seen. They fled, and Condran's folk gave chase. Our galleys were double crewed and kept ahead of them, close enough to be pursued, but always too far off, thanks to their extra oarsmen, to be brought to fight. They kept the main fleet occupied for several days, so that the fires on shore had time to burn and die. When Condran's fleet gave up and returned home, they burned, too."
"My God," I whispered. "It sounds final enough almost to be a Roman vengeance."
"Aye, well it was the vengeance of the Gael," he said. "That was last year. Since then, we have reseeded the north coast with some of our folk, as I told you. They have their own galleys and can guard themselves, and we are close by, should they need us."
"Changes indeed. Tell me about the mainland, this treaty of Brander's."
"A different kind of change." Connor sipped again at his mead. "The treaty was necessary, and I hope it's merely the first. It will be, I know. My brother Brander may have the makings of an even greater king than Athol Mac Iain was."
"How is it different?"
"Well, few one thing, we have become, over the last ten years, a race of fishermen. Now that is a change that alters every aspect of our lives. We've always fished, of course, because we lived beside the sea, but now we live among the seas, so now most of our food comes from the water. We eat fish, and shellfish, and seal meat, and sometimes whale meat. We eat birds that taste of fish. Most of our lands are rocky and inhospitable to crops. The bigger islands have good soil, but they're all forested, and until we clear them we can't farm them. We grow a little grain, and we have a green crop, kale, that grows well in shallow soil, even through a mild winter. It's not the most pleasant stuff to eat, but it's nourishing and wholesome enough.
"We have hundreds of islands on which we can live, although many more are too small for human habitation. Our people have spread out among them in the past few years, though, and will survive. But we need land that we can farm, and that means we need a foothold, at least, on the mainland, and not simply on the rocky shoreline. Soon after we arrived and had begun to spread our folk about, that need became too urgent for my father and his counsellors to ignore. Our fishing boats were few, back then, too few. So we sent out... scouts? What's the word you'd use? Peaceful messengers, looking for opportunities to deal with other kings..."
"Emissaries."
He looked at me, quizzically. "If you say so. Emissaries. Sounds impressive. Well then, we sent out emissaries to the kings up and down the mainland coast. They went unarmed, and bearing gifts, and some returned alive. One of the first such groups made contact with a king in the region called Gallowa, to the north of here, a man called Tod, who showed an interest in an alliance. He was willing to exchange land in his northern holdings in return for the protection of our galleys along his southern shores. Turns out that the Sons of Condran had been harrying him for years. He has large armies, but they're almost useless against a fleet, unless they happen to know in advance where the fleet will strike."
I nodded. "I know. The Romans had the same difficulty." I had a sudden thought. "Do you know a king called Crandal?"
"No. Should I?"
"Hmm. He's a Pict. I thought you might have heard of him, at least. I hear he has raised an army and is marching southward into Britain, over in the northeast."
Connor shook his head. "We have made no great attempt to penetrate that far inland. The whole mainland is a morass of different tribes, all at war with each other and all divided by moun
tain chains. Any attempt to travel is madness, even for the Picts themselves. It means fighting new enemies every step of the way. Worse than it was in Eire. We've heard of one great valley that divides the whole land from sea to sea, with mountains to the north and south of it, but we hear it's thickly peopled and the folk are warlike. "
"Then if that is the case—" I stopped, perplexed. "If things are as chaotic as you say, with constant warfare—"
"Raiding, " Connor interrupted me. "It's more raiding than warfare. No large armies, no long campaigns, merely one raid after another, unendingly. "
"If that is the case, then, how did Salina and her sister come to be involved with your King Tod? You said she comes from Orcenay—was that the name ?—in the far northeast. "
"Aye, but she's like us, an islander. Her people have boats, galleys of a kind, and travel by water. "
"Tell me about these people. What do you know of them?"
He shrugged. "Not much, but I know they are not the same people as the mainlanders. They're very different. Not greatly numerous, from what Salina has told me, but fierce and warlike. " He anticipated my next question. "And Salina is a chief. She rules one of the two groups of islands they control. Her brother Lot is king over all, in name, but Salina's is the power that counts in her domain. "
"Lot? Did you say Lot? I hope he's no relation to your former good-brother of Cornwall?"
Connor barked a laugh. "You know, I had almost forgotten that! No, he's no relation. His name's not even Lot. That's just a name they use in dealing with strangers. His real name's unpronounceable, one of those grunting, cough like sounds no normal human tongue can grapple with. Every time I hear someone say it, it sounds like he's retching and I pull my cloak around me to avoid being splattered. Salina's is the same. She chose the Roman name herself, for her dealings with people she calls Outlanders, like us.
"Anyway, Salina's sister married Tod of Gallowa some years ago, and there's some trade between the two kingdoms. Mostly sheep's wool coming down. I don't know what the Gallowans send back. When our emissaries arrived in Tod's kingdom that first time, Salina had just arrived with four of her ships. She took part in the talks, and when it became clear Tod would have problems with some of his chiefs, who knew nothing of us and hence did not trust us, she offered to sail to us and to deal with my father on her good-brother's behalf. That first visit led to Father's crossing to the mainland later that year to meet with Tod and his chiefs and counsellors. The meetings were successful, but it took two more years before a treaty was forged." He paused, remembering.
"It was completed last spring, when Condran's fleet carried out some heavy raids the length of Tod's coastline. Suddenly it became an excellent idea, they realized, to conclude the matter. No sooner were the final agreements reached than Brander sailed off to deal finally with Condran. Of course, we have made no mention to this time of the true extent of the destruction of Condran's sea power. It would be foolish to announce the removal of the prime need for the treaty. And besides, Condran's destruction really makes no difference to the substance of the contract, which promises the protection of our fleet in return for the right to farm the lands in the far north of Tod's holdings, which were lying empty and unused."
I had but one more question for him. "You said you expect more treaties of this type?"
"Aye. We require more mainland territory. Brander is dealing now with four more kings, further to the north, although they call themselves chiefs. He'll be successful, too. He has great strength in that kind of dealing. Then, once we have established footholds for our folk on fertile land, we can leave their prosperity to time and human nature. And we can hope for success now. With the extermination of Condran, we are at peace for the first time in many years. That's why Brander decided to get married, and then to make this journey with Salina and the girl. When we leave here, they'll sail to visit Tod."
"And where will you go?"
"On patrol. Now that Brander is king, he will be bound ashore. I am sole admiral."
I told him them about my decision to return south to Camulod within the month, abandoning our temporary home here in Mediobogdum, and I asked him if he would ferry my main party southward, one last time. He listened quietly, making no attempt to interrupt, but when I had finished he grimaced.
"Normally, I would say yes, but you've reminded me of what I set out to tell you .before you distracted me with all this talk of treaties. Do you recall the big ship you encountered, in that coastal town, that first time you met Feargus?"
"Of course, the Roman bireme that the Berbers brought to strip the marble from the buildings of Glevum. What about it?"
"Liam Twistback arrived in the islands just before we left to come here. He undertook the journey in the winter, with only three companions, preferring to run the risk of storms and shipwreck rather than remain where he was, on the coast between Camulod and Cambria. He says the invaders from Cornwall have two of those things, aiding their troop movements. Massive vessels, Liam says they are, with multiple banks of oars and enormous sails. He says they have wooden decked towers, fore and aft, for soldiers and bowmen to fight from, and one of them even has siege engines mounted on the stern platform... catapults, can you credit that? And they have long, metal-clad rams projecting from their bows, below the waterline, for sinking enemy ships. They make our biggest galleys look like coracles, Liam says."
"Ironhair possesses these things?"
"No, I did not say that. Twistback knows nothing of this Ironhair. He merely said that the forces invading Cambria have two of these wondrous vessels assisting them."
"Aye, then they're Ironhair's." I heard the deadness in my own voice. His words had stunned me, but hard on the shock had come an immediate though unwilling recognition of the truth of what he had told me. Ironhair had proved already in the past that he was no fool and that, like his predecessor, Lot of Cornwall, he knew the value of money shrewdly placed and lavishly provided. The fact that he had followed Lot's example and procured an army of mercenaries with promises of plunder bore that out, but now it was evident that he had carried the procurement of alliances even further and ensured his maritime superiority with these great ships. I looked at Connor more carefully.
"You're sailing south, aren't you?"
"I had considered it." His tone said Yes, l am.
'Then you'll take us with you?"
"No. I won't. It's too dangerous. You have women and boys in your party, one of them my own nephew, Arthur. His presence alone would make this voyage far too dangerous."
"But—"
He cut me short with a slash of his open palm. "Sit down, Merlyn, and think of what's involved here!"
I was furious, insulted by his outright dismissal of my request. Harsh, angry words sprang to my lips, demanding to be spat out. Yet I knew I was wrong. Finally, I mastered myself and sat down, aware that Connor had much more to say, and that he, not I, commanded on the sea. He watched me with narrowed eyes, and when I sat down, moving slowly, he continued, speaking clearly and calmly.
"Merlyn, I have no idea what we'll encounter when we arrive down there, but the very last thing I might need is passengers aboard my vessels, women and children. I might round some headland there and find myself committed to a fight. We're sailing south, right into the middle of a war, and I tell you frankly, I have no plan, no stratagem for dealing with these... things, these biremes. I might have to turn tail and flee before them. I might not find them at all. Then again, I might not even have the opportunity to approach the coast, let alone find a suitable place and sufficient time to land you and your party. Then where would you be? You'd be stuck there, aboard my vessel headed northwest, with no safe way of getting back to Camulod. Better you return by road, with your own garrison. That way your party will be safe and well protected, and you'll experience the land you haven't seen yet." His mouth twisted into a small, ironic smile. "You'll probably arrive in Camulod long before we could deliver you there, given the probable congestion on the wa
terways."
I sat gazing at him in bafflement, unsettlingly aware that I was missing something here. Finally I grunted in belated realization of another point. If these biremes had seemed threatening enough to Liam Twistback to encourage him to face the perils of a sea voyage in winter in a tiny boat, they also represented a threat to Camulod, which lay within a two day march of Liam's farm.
"Did Liam say if be had managed to warn Camulod about these vessels?" I asked. _
"He didn't have to. Some of your people were there with Liam, on their regular patrol, when the things last approached the shore. They wanted Liam to return with them when they rode back to warn the. Colony, but for some reason he chosen to sail north and take his chances with the winter gales. Anyway, they know in Camulod. I imagine all their defensive preparations are in place by now. "
All at once I knew what it was about Connor's words that had been unsettling me. "Liam was the last of your people down there, wasn't he?" He nodded. "So why are you going there at all? You have no interests to be served down there, now. "
His mouth twisted again in a wintry smile. "What about gratitude to you and yours and to the Cambrians who let us use their land?"
"Admirable, but unnecessary. What would your people have to gain from such a course? God knows, you've much to lose, going against such ships. "
"I want one of them. "
He spoke so softly that I barely heard his words, and then I doubted my own hearing.
"You what?"
"You heard me clearly, I want one of them—at least one. Both, if I can have them. "
"Are you mad? You've never seen these things. I have. The two of them together could probably defeat your entire fleet, just by their combined weight and strength. Your galleys would be wrecked and ruined before you ever could approach them. Those catapults you mentioned are used to hurl burning pots of oil into an enemy's rigging and sails. You know what fire does to ships, Connor—it was you who described it to me, on the walls of Ravenglass—and you've just been telling me about Brander's destruction of Condran's fleet with fireships. And even without the fire, their prow rams would smash even your biggest galley beneath the waterline. Then the weight of the forepart of the ship, propelled by hundreds of great sweeps, would thunder down and crush your vessel like an egg. Their archers would slaughter those of your men who didn't drown immediately. No, Connor, if you have any mind for the welfare of your ships and men, empty your mind of any thought of fighting these machines. They're Roman built, my friend, and Roman designed to be invincible in their own element."