The Sorcer part 2: Metamorphosis cc-6

by Jack Whyte

  "Yes, I remember that."

  "Well, then, here's the proof of it. Look at the work that's gone into that thing, simply to house a stone. That's a flail, Merlyn, made by someone who had seen the real thing, the iron flail, but couldn't find the means to make one for himself. That thing would smash your skull as thoroughly and quickly as an iron one would. Now look at this."

  He reached into his saddlebag and produced another weapon, this one far more crude. It was, or had been, a makeshift spear, a rusty dagger lashed with hardened rawhide to the end of a wooden pole. It had been broken off half an arm's length below the lashed dagger hilt. Once I had seen it, Ded tossed it contemptuously aside, where it disappeared among the long grass through which we were riding. "That's the kind of weaponry those whoresons had." Seeing my raised eyebrow, he hurried on. "We found a band of savages attacking a farm, about three miles ahead of where we are now. They might have been Saxons, but I doubt it. Plain bandits, is my guess. Thieves and killers. Killed four of them, drove the others off, about ten of them. But not one of them had a decent sword. Most only had knives and wooden clubs. That thing you're holding there was the best weapon in the bunch."

  "Hmm. So what's your point?"

  "My point? My point is that we may be the only force around today with any real weapons."

  I grinned at him then, and Benedict joined in. "You could be right, Ded," I said. "But we won't throw all our swords away for a while, for fear you might, might be mistaken."

  That scene recurred to me as I sat watching the crowd of more than a hundred waiting on the beach. They were mostly Saxons, too, though sprinkled here and there with the brown robes of clerics, and I could scarcely see a weapon of any size among them. They were Christians, of course, and recently converted, most of them, but that should not have robbed them of the will or of the capacity to defend themselves away from the safety of their homes. They had looked askance at us when we arrived the previous afternoon, but mildly, with more curiosity than hostility.

  Now I looked more closely and confirmed my initial impression: I could see no weapons. I pulled my mount to a halt on the grass strip above the pebbly expanse that stretched down to the water's edge, smiling in wonder at the way these people craned their necks and strained to see, hoping to catch a glimpse of three small ships approaching, when simply by coming up to where we sat they could have seen everything with ease and then walked down to meet the incoming travellers when they stepped ashore.

  There was not a single Celt among the assembly, and I noticed that simply because of their dress, which appeared drab and colourless to my eyes after years of living among the weltering colours of my volatile Celtic countrymen. All of the people there beneath me wore rough, homespun, monochrome garments, dull browns and lustreless greys. Nowhere was there a hint or a dash of colour, not even solid black or white, and I could see no pattern woven into their plain clothing.

  Now, watching Germanus's little craft draw closer, I was glad I had been so insistent upon changing the place of his landing. He had planned to land at the old fort of Dubris, some fifty miles along the coast, where the high white cliffs of Britain's southern shore came closest to the mainland of Gaul across the Narrow Sea. I had demurred at that, claiming that too much danger lay in such a landfall, both for his party and for my own. He would be landing on an alien shore, trusting himself to strangers who professed to be Christian; I would be riding through an alien land to meet him, entrusting the safety of my men similarly to other men's assurances of goodwill. Furthermore, Dubris lay on the southern edge of the Weald, and any journeying to or from there must now entail crossing through Horsa's territories.

  We agreed that his ship should veer westwards at Dubris, hugging the coastline until it reached the ruined fort at Anderita, the most westerly of the ancient forts of the Saxon Shore. He would then round the headland that thrust southward beyond Anderita and continue to cling to the coastline, this time heading north-westerly until the shoreline; again pointed due west. Directly south of Londinium, and of Verulamium, which lay some eighty miles inland, we would be awaiting his arrival and would signal him to safety with the smoke from three large fires, two on the westerly side of his landing point and the third to the east of it.

  The small fleet approached as close as it could to the" shingled beach which, at low tide, appeared to stretch full half the way to Gaul. Then came a period of intense activity as tiny boats were lowered and men scrambled aboard them to be rowed ashore. Watching, it occurred to me to be grateful that the sea was calm, for the process that took half an hour might well have been impossible to attempt at all had the water been rougher. I watched the first three laden! boats approach the strand and saw the people waiting there surge forward to greet the newcomers, and I held up my hand in a needless warning to my companions to wait where" we were. We had travelled far to be here on this day, but we had ridden. The people there below us had all walked.

  Had we moved forward then, our advent would inevitably and unjustly have commandeered all attention and deprived those waiting afoot of any opportunity to greet the man they had come to welcome.

  My eyes picked out Germanus immediately, but my heart surged into my throat when I saw the changes in him since we two had last met. Then, I had seen the former legate of Rome's armies, a stalwart, clean shaven man in his fifties, strong and agile, thick in arm and leg, with cleanly muscled, vise like thighs that could clutch a horse's wide back without effort. That Germanus of Auxerre had been a general who had chosen to become a man of God. The man I beheld now, albeit from a distance, was a man of God who bore no resemblance to a soldier. And he was an old man, with a flowing, snow white beard. He saw me and raised a hand in greeting. I waved back, but made no move to approach, content to allow him to conclude his greetings to his friends and followers, every one of whom genuflected and kissed the hand he extended to them. Some few embraced him after that, when they had straightened up again, but most simply moved aside to make way for someone else.

  Behind me, a horse whinnied and stamped noisily, apparently stung by some insect, for there was a scuffling surge of movement as several people reined their horses aside and fought to bring them back under control. I kept my eyes on Germanus, my mind racing back over the years. It had been the summer of 429 when we last met, the year Cassandra was killed. Two years later, in 431, Arthur had been born, and he was now sixteen, so eighteen years had passed. Germanus must now be close to seventy, and ruefully, I reflected that I myself, who had been under thirty then, was now forty-six.

  "Will you go down to him?" Tress had moved forward; to flank me on my right.

  "Soon, now. He knows we're here. He'll let us know: when he is ready. "

  As I spoke, the activity centred around Germanus died away as others in his party now bore the brunt of greetings, and for several moments the bishop stood alone. Some other cleric approached him then, wishing to speak, but Germanus waved him away and looked up to us on the crest above. His face broke into a smile as he raised a hand to wave us forward. I eased Germanicus forward down the sloping beach, but he was skittish on the pebbly surface, so I quickly dismounted and left him there, ground tethered, alongside the white gelding, as I strode down towards my old friend. I dropped to one knee, extending my hand to take and kiss his in the offering of Christian peace. He allowed me to do so, but then he pulled me to my feet and embraced me as a dear and long unseen friend, surprising me with his strength. Briefly then I introduced him to my companions, and then to the other officers, introducing each by his rank. Germanus greeted them with gentle pleasure, finding a different word or two for each and thanking all of us for the trouble we had undertaken on his behalf.

  Behind us, farther down towards the water, the orgy of greetings and salutations had died down and the entire crowd had quieted to form a silent, semicircular audience, watching what was transpiring between us and their leader. Germanus turned to face them, raising his voice and his arms at the same time to capture their attention b
efore he; realized that everyone was already staring at him, waiting for his words. He lowered his arms immediately.

  "Dear friends, it heartens me to know that by these signs and portents, God is indicating His pleasure in the lightness of the sacred cause that brings us here to Britain. He has sent perfect weather to accompany us on our journey across the sea and to ensure that we arrived on the appointed day to find all of you waiting here to greet us. Most of all, however, He has seen fit to reunite me with my friend here, Caius Britannicus, who saved our lives when first we came to Britain almost two decades ago, escorting us to Verulamium, and has now returned to escort us once again, although this time in vastly greater strength and at our invitation.

  "You will meet him and his friends, all of you, in the time ahead, for the road to Verulamium is long and might well have been beset with perils, had our friends from Camulod not come to see us there in safety. For the time being, our escort sits above, full armoured, in the sun, awaiting our passage. It would be uncharitable to cause them to remain there in discomfort longer than they must. So please, let us move onward for a space. " He paused and glanced at me. "How far? Where will we camp tonight?'

  "Close by. Less than a mile from here. It seemed to me good sense that you would wish to rest at least one day after your crossing, so we have made arrangements to set out tomorrow, and by the time we reach the encampment, our commissary should have a welcoming meal prepared for you. For everyone, including those who came to meet you. Think of it as a reward for coming so promptly. My men think of it that way, for they never receive a hot meat meal in the middle of the day, except upon the most effulgent of occasions!"

  "Wonderful. " He passed on this information to his people and then beckoned with his arms, inviting them all to move forward. As he did so, I looked more closely at what he was wearing and saw that his long robe was split vertically from the waist, and that beneath it he wore leather breeches and serviceable, highly polished leather boots. As he turned back to me I grinned at him and took hold of his left elbow, prompting him to walk with me.

  "I'm glad to see you still garbed as a rider, Bishop. You wrote to me once that you had not ridden a horse in years. "

  "I did, and promptly realized that I had shown ingratitude to God, committing the sin of pride by presenting myself as too busy with His affairs to take time for His pleasures. I set out to rectify that immediately and had reconditioned myself to the saddle before you ever read that letter. I have been riding ever since. Have you a horse for me?" He was leaning into the slope of the beach as we moved! upward.

  I laughed. "Aye, Legate Bishop, I have. But it is saddled, ! with stirrups. Can you ride thus?"

  He stopped walking for a moment and laughed back at me, very slightly short of breath from the effort of walking!; on the pebbles. "Need you ask? Bear in mind, if you will,, that the first stirrups that you ever saw crossed from Gaul into Britain. You adapted them then, and once having seen your stirrups and the power they bestow, how could any Gallic rider fail to copy them? One of my brethren made drawings of your saddles before we left Verulamium, anfrom those the remaining details, the making of them was simple to achieve. So yes, I ride the way you do. "

  "Alleluia, " I responded, and he looked at me sharply, his head tilting to one side. "Ah, so you've heard of that, have you? Does it vex you?"' 'The Alleluia Victory? How could it vex me, Bishop? I was there, don't you recall?" I was smiling as I spoke, and he brightened visibly. I nodded towards the white gelding. "Will that suit your purposes?" His eyebrows shot up as he looked at the magnificent!

  beast. "How could it fail to? But I am a bishop, Merlyn, and this is a horse fit to bear a king. Could you not find a lesser animal for me?"

  "I could indeed, but aren't you being proud again? This one came straight to meet me when I went looking for a mount for you. “I hesitated for a moment, and then went on impulsively. "He even matches you in colour, mane to beard. Here, let me help you up. "

  Germanus laughed again, heartily, then leaned a hand on my shoulder and placed his left foot in my cupped hands. I straightened my knees and raised his foot to the level of the stirrups, where he swung his right leg across the horse's back.

  "His name's Pegasus, " I said. "No wings, I fear, but the correct colour, and he's swift, but gentle. " I went to Germanicus and swung myself up onto his back, seeing that Tress was already mounted and moving ahead of us to where our troopers sat. When I turned to Germanus, he was sitting erect, gazing at the lines in admiration.

  "Magnificent, Merlyn, quite magnificent. Rome never saw the equal of these. " He paused, his very seat indicating that the military man was reincarnate in him now. "May I inspect them?"

  "That would be an honour, Bishop, but one they have earned. Yes, that would please them, and me, greatly. "

  "So be it. Ride with me. "

  Thus, for the next half of an hour, the troopers of Camulod stood to be reviewed and inspected by a legate of Rome.

  When it was over, and the troops had been dismissed to return to the encampment, I rode knee to knee with my visitor, explaining to him that we had brought comfortable wagons with us, fitted with padded benches so that he and his bishops could ride to Verulamium in comfort, rather than walking as they had on the previous occasion. We spoke of many things on that short ride, but we were close , beset with people all around and I knew that I would have to wait some time before I might have an opportunity to discuss with him the things that were most prominent in my mind. So it was with great relief that I heard him say, just as we rode into camp, that he was looking forward to, spending time alone with me, away from the duties of his bishopric and his current mission, and that he would set; aside some time to speak with me the following day, once we had completed the first leg of our journey to the north.

  Our camp was laid out, as it always was, in the fashion of the traditional Roman military encampments. For this; occasion, however, with the feeding of close to fifteen hundred personnel, I had ordered the quartermaster cooks to set up a feeding area beyond the camp itself, and the smells of spit roasted sheep and venison were carried on the gentle breeze to every corner of the camp. I led the way through the centre of the camp to my own quarters and those of my senior commanders. I had ordered three additional tents set up beside my own, for Germanus's use; the two tents flanking his own were commodious enough to house as many of his personal staff as he might choose to place there. I led him directly to his own tent and we dismounted, handing our reins to the troopers who were waiting there to take our mounts. As I turned to leave him, however, Germanus caught me by the wrist and held me there until the troopers had gone; then he cocked his head to look at me.

  "Your officers, those whom you introduced to me. I can't recall their names, but they were tribunes, centurions and: decurions. I found that strange.".

  "How so? Why should it be strange?"

  "Those are Roman rankings. "

  "So? That is unimportant, Bishop. They are military titles. "

  "Call me Germanus when we are alone. Why Roman? You are not Roman, are you?"

  "No, we're not, we're British, but our roots are Roman nonetheless. "

  "Hmm. What do you call your officers?"

  I blinked at him. "Forgive me, but what do you mean, what do I call them? They're my officers, I call diem by their names. "

  Germanus shook his head, smiling now. "No, you should forgive me for being so unclear. But the historian in me knows that no Roman tribune was a cavalry officer by birth and training. The same applies to the centuriate. They were infantry to a man. Decurions were cavalry, but all your officers are cavalry. "

  I was still confused. "So? What are you saying?"

  Now he shrugged. "I suppose I am saying that, if you are determined to adhere to Romanness, then you should adhere strictly to that bent. The founding fathers gave their name to the Patrician order in Rome, and all others were Plebeians. Later, another order emerged, between Patricians and Plebeians, and to mark their rank, the s
tate awarded them horses, fed from the public purse. Thus they became Equestrians, known to the world today as Knights. All of your men are equestrian, therefore your officers deserve the title of Equestrians. You should call them Knights, my friend, and find some way of distinguishing them in the eyes of other men, not merely your soldiers. "

  "Knights? You mean—" My mind was racing now, seeing a host of possibilities. "You mean we should found a new order of nobility? Within Camulod?"

  "Why not? Perhaps not an order of nobility, per se— nobility is such an abstract word and all too frequently misleading—but certainly a new order of military excellence. From the appearance of your troops today, I would say Camulod has come of age sufficiently to honour its own in some such signal way. It was merely a thought, but it might be worth considering. It could provide incentive for your aspiring warriors. "

  "Aye, it could indeed. But how would we mark such an honour? We all have horses already, and the Colony looks after them. "

  "Who knows?" Germanus shrugged his shoulders. "No doubt something will come to you. As I say, it was a mere thought. Think on it further, my friend. God will guide you, of that I am sure. Ah, and on that thought He now guides me. Here comes Ludovic, my secretary and my personal cross to bear throughout this life. Pardon me, for I must speak with him before we take the time to eat. "

  I left him to the attentions of the corpulent, pink faced cleric who came bustling over to claim him and went looking for Tress, my mind in a turmoil with the idea he had stirred up in me so quickly. I had to share it with someone, and she was first and foremost in my mind.

  We talked about it while we ate, and Tress grew nearly as excited as I was, her nimble mind perceiving almost from the first the exciting possibilities that founding such an order might present, were we to approach it properly. By the end of that afternoon, when Germanus was deeply involved with his British bishops in a session that would last long into the night, I had mentioned the idea to all my closest associates. None of them, however—and I was saddened to note this— appeared to see in it the potential that had screamed itself into my mind and Tressa's. Even Shelagh merely blinked her lovely, long lashed eyes and said little. I covered my disappointment and lowered the intensity of my enthusiasm, fearing to embarrass any of them, but the idea would not lose its resonance.