Invader iarit-6

by William F. Wu

  In the afternoon, the nature of the exercises changed. Now the squads worked together, maneuvering in combinations of ten, with a hundred riders each. Steve stayed close to Hunter. Finally, in late afternoon, Lucius gave the order to return to the tor.

  As Steve and Hunter rode on weary mounts with the rest of the troop back to the main gate, Cynric rode up alongside them.

  “You will join us in the camp,” said Cynric.

  “You are in a camp?” Hunter asked. “I have not seen a camp. Where is it?”

  Cynric grinned. “Behind the village, on the far slope. The green recruits are kept out of the way.”

  Steve wondered what Hunter wanted to do about Harriet, but he did not ask. A blunt conversation would have to wait until they were out of the hearing of others. He looked up at the village and wondered if Jane was there somewhere.

  Hunter knew that he could not call Harriet. He had no idea if she had company within the hearing of her lapel pin. If they could not find her in the streets of the village, then he would have to wait for her to call him again.

  At the paddock, each rider unsaddled and brushed down his own mount. Then they were dismissed. Hunter, however, walked back to the armorer, who had a fresh leather boiling in a big vat.

  “Is that for me?” Hunter asked.

  “Keep your tunic on to protect yourself from the heat,” the armorer said gruffly.

  Steve stood by as the armorer pulled the steaming leather out with a long, hooked pole. The leather had a hole already cut out of the middle and the armor lowered it over Hunter’s head. Moving quickly, the armorer tied it snugly around Hunter’s waist with a piece of old rope. Steam rose from the leather.

  “I’m glad he already had one my size,” Steve muttered. “That’s hot.”

  “No one ever died of this,” growled the armorer. “I’ve been doing it for years. That tunic he’s wearing will protect him.”

  “I am fine,” said Hunter.

  The armorer quickly tied the leather around Hunter’s arms, as well, so that it fit tightly around his entire torso. Then he began to punch holes up and down the sides in straight lines, ignoring the uneven shape of the leather. By the time he had finished, the leather no longer steamed.

  The armorer knocked on the leather against Hunter’s chest. It gave slightly. “Still soft,” he muttered. “Just wear that for a few more minutes.”

  Hunter nodded.

  The armorer drew a knife and began trimming the leather. He cut it off at Hunter’s waist and straightened the edges running down the robot’s sides from under his arms. By the time the armorer had cut the last pieces off, he had to use a great deal of effort to slice the blade through the leather.

  “Should be finished now.” The armorer knocked on the Hunter’s back. This time, it made a thunking sound. “That’s it. Here, I’ll lift it off.”

  Hunter bent forward so the armorer could raise it over his head.

  Steve saw that the leather had now solidified into a hard shell that maintained its shape, just like the leather he was still wearing.

  “It needs a little more trimming. And some of these holes need to be punched out more cleanly. I’ll do that. When you come back in the morning, I’ll have thongs for you to lace the sides closed. After that, you keep it.”

  “Thank you.”

  The armorer nodded and carried the new armor inside his building.

  Some recruits walked around the slope to the rear side, avoiding the village. Others took the cobbled road up to the village gate. Hunter and Steve walked back up to the gate together.

  “Hunter, Harriet here.” Her call came through his internal receiver.

  “Yes, Harriet.”

  “I can see you walking back up the hill and I got a moment alone. Did you see MC 6 anywhere?”

  “No. Tell me where you are. We must confer.”

  “I think we’d better talk now. I’m in the palace. And if I leave, I don’t know if I’ll be welcome back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I struck up a conversation with some of the women who live here. One is the wife of an adviser to Artorius and another is the grown daughter of some elderly military man. I’m not sure exactly what he does. But I explained that my husband and our servant had come from Linnuis by way of Gaul to fight and that I was now unescorted.”

  “They simply invited you into the palace?”

  “Not exactly. We talked for a while. They are very conscious of social class. I am clearly not a peasant. When they asked about you, I explained that you were a very wealthy and successful horse breeder and trader. They know that Artorius needs an ongoing supply of good horses.”

  “What happened?”

  “Gwenhwyvaer, the daughter of the military man, has been very kind. We get along well. She invited me to stay with her. But she had to argue with some of the others. I don’t want to seem ungrateful by asking to go out again today. But if everything is still okay tomorrow, maybe I can meet you in the village.”

  “Then you have safe lodging for the night?”

  “Oh, yes. As long as I don’t offend anyone. And I may have a chance to spot MC 6 here, if he has regained his full size by now.”

  “Very well. I will wait for you to call me again. If you feel any potential danger, call immediately.”

  “All right, Hunter. Harriet out.”

  Hunter related the conversation to Steve. “Instead of going up to the village to look for her, I suggest we go to the camp in the rear to find out where we will sleep.”

  “Good idea.”

  Jane had hoped to remain in the village until the troop returned. However, Emrys’s business did not take long enough. In the morning, he had bargained with men from the palace for the sheep. After some spirited haggling, Emrys had sold them all to the palace, improving the deal by offering the firewood, as well. He had received both coin and barter in the form of some wool and two piglets that had to be tied inside the wagon.

  At Jane’s request, Emrys had agreed to spend more time in the village. They visited an open-air stall at midday to eat and then browsed through the shops. However, in the middle of the afternoon, he had decided to return home. As they had taken the wagon back down the slope toward the gate in the outer wall, Jane had seen the troop of riders still maneuvering in the distance.

  Jane watched Wayne and Ishihara carefully all day. In turn, they looked at everyone in the village, but only glanced casually at the troops on maneuver in the distance. She could not figure out why Ishihara did not examine the troops more closely.

  Although she did not want Ishihara to notice Hunter if he had not seen him already, she wanted to find out what priorities he was using. She waited until the wagon had left the main gate and traveled down the road, leaving the troops out of sight around a bend. Then she raised the subject indirectly, speaking in English so that Emrys would not understand.

  “Ishihara.”

  “Yes.”

  “As I understand it, Wayne will only instruct you to let me go if he can either get MC 6 or bargain for him with Hunter. Right?”

  “Yeah?” In the front seat by Emrys, Wayne turned around and glared at her suspiciously. “We’ve already established that. What of it?”

  “When are we going to get this underway? I don’t want to live here forever.”

  “Calm down, will you?” Wayne said sourly. “I don’t like waiting, either. But we can’t do anything till we find at least one of them.”

  “So we’re just going to visit the village every day and look around? What if Emrys doesn’t want to go back tomorrow? He has chores at home.”

  “If we have to, we’ll hike in ourselves,” said Wayne. “Right, Ishihara?”

  “If you wish.”

  “And then we just stand around?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Jane looked at Ishihara. “Tell me if you know where MC 6 or Hunter is.”

  Ishihara turned to look at Wayne. “What should I do? You instructed
me not to discuss this subject with her or in front of her.”

  Wayne grinned. “Go ahead and answer.”

  “I do not know where MC 6 is,” said Ishihara. “I may know where Hunter is but I am not certain.”

  “Nice try.” Wayne snickered. “You can’t order him to tell you something he doesn’t know.”

  “That’s not the point,” said Jane. For the moment, she decided not to sound too eager to learn what Ishihara might know about Hunter. “Do you guys have a plan or not?”

  “I’ve calculated that MC 6 will return to his full size in the tor,” said Wayne. “I’ve instructed Ishihara to prioritize spotting him.”

  Jane decided to risk reminding them of the troops. “Does that include people outside the tor? Say, shepherds like Emrys, or traders coming to and from the tor?”

  “I have looked at the people we have passed on the road,” said Ishihara.

  “How about those riders?” Wayne asked. “The guys with the spears? They were too far for me to see clearly.”

  “None of them is small enough to be MC 6,” said Ishihara. “One of them is large enough to be Hunter. With the movements of the riders, I was not able to ascertain this for certain, even at the maximum magnification of my vision. A man the size and build of Steve rode very close to him.”

  Jane said nothing. She had recognized Hunter. At least she now knew what Ishihara had seen. The reason he had not mentioned it in her hearing before was that Wayne had instructed him not to do so.

  “You’re sure that MC 6 is not riding with that outfit?” Wayne asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. For now, we’ll let Hunter waste his time with them. We’ll focus on finding MC 6 first.”

  Jane said nothing more.

  Steve and Hunter found the camp on the far slope. A single large command tent stood at the top. Two unhitched wagons stood next to it, full of closed wooden crates. Small campfire sites, cold at the moment, dotted the area, surrounded by small bundles of furs and cloth bags.

  Cynric met them there and showed them which campfire belonged to their squad. He also pulled some old blankets out of a crate in one wagon and gave them to Steve and Hunter. The other squad members had not come back yet.

  AfterCynric walked away, Steve sighed and looked up at Hunter.

  “What is wrong?” Hunter asked. He set his blanket down on the ground…

  “We’ll be sleeping out under the stars. It was cold last night. Even next to the fire, we’ll be cold.”

  “I noted the temperature last night. It should not be harmful to you.”

  “No…but it’ll be uncomfortable.” Steve grinned. “Don’t worry about it. I just hope it doesn’t rain.”

  “I suggest we walk up to the village. The sun will not go down right away. Maybe we can buy some additional bedclothes for you.”

  “Okay.” Steve glanced up. The sky had more clouds than before, but he did not smell rain.

  They walked back up to the village and strolled through the streets. Hunter found a stall selling furs and bargained down the price on a coverlet of rabbit pelts stitched together. Steve slung it over his shoulder gratefully.

  Hunter noted when the other green recruits in the village left again. He and Steve followed them back to the camp, where the campfires now burned. Some men passed bread to each squad; pots of mut ton already boiled over the fires. A brisk breeze blew across the twilit countryside.

  9

  As Steve and Hunter sat down around their campfire, Cynric finally introduced each squad member by name. Inthe gathering darkness, he directed one of the men to ladle mutton out of the pot into wooden bowls already filled with chunks of bread.

  “Cynric,” said a young man named Cai. “What will we do tomorrow? More of the same?”

  “More of the same.” Cynric looked around the group sternly. “You have much to learn before you can keep an angry Saxon from killing you.”

  “Will it be different when the veterans arrive?” Cai asked. “Will we ride with them?”

  “Our troop will remain together,” said Cynric. “Lucius will lead us. When the veterans first begin to gather, they will not bother to ride, except on their own. Once the bulk of them have arrived, we will practice maneuvers with them.”

  “When will we go out on campaign?” A taller young man named Cadoc looked up from his bowl.

  “No one can be sure,” said Cynric. “It depends on what word Artorius hears from scouts and returning veterans. He won’t plan a campaign until he knows something about the enemy.”

  None of them spoke.

  “You can be sure we’re going somewhere,” Cynric added. “Spring always brings a new campaign for Artorius. You need not doubt that.”

  The other men nodded.

  Cai chewed on a piece of bread for a moment and glanced at Steve. “I’ve never seen a man of your appearance before, yet you speak our language well. How did you two come to join us here today?”

  “It’s a long story,” Steve said cautiously. He was not sure how much detail Cai wanted.

  “We met in Gaul,” said Hunter casually. “My wife and I hail from Linnuis, but we fled the Saxons on board ship across the Channel.”

  “I have known men from Gaul,” said Cadoc. “None looked liked you, Steve.”

  “I come from the eastern end of the Roman Empire,” said Steve. He glanced at Hunter, who watched him silently. Steve decided he was free to improvise. “I traveled to Gaul as a servant to another horse breeder. We met Hunter and I began working for him, instead.”

  “But where is this land you come from?” Cai asked. “My grandfather served allover the empire and told me stories about his travels. Do you come from Egypt? Judea? The Parthian border?”

  Steve looked at Hunter again.

  “His family comes from farther east than that,” said Hunter. “From Sina, the land of silk.”

  “Never heard of it,” said Cynric. “Not that I care.” He looked into the distance, where the sun had gone down. A faint glow over the horizon still lit the sky. “Well, men, shall we take our nightly stroll through the village?”

  “You walk through the village every night?” Hunter asked. “Why?”

  Cynric grinned. “For a goblet of mead, maybe. Or to meet a woman in a tavern. Maybe just for a walk. It keeps these young farmers and shepherds in the saddle during the day, when they know they have a visit in the village at night.”

  Steve caught Hunter’s eye. “We’ll join you.”

  “Hunter, you can see your wife.”

  “Perhaps,” said Hunter. “First, we have business in the village. A certain friend of ours may live in the village now. We will look for him.”

  “As you wish.” Cynric shrugged.

  As the squad walked back up to the village, Steve noticed that the other squads were doing the same. Not everyone went, however; a few others stayed around their fires. Some of the men had already stretched out in their bedrolls.

  The streets of the village had only a few people, just as the night before. Cynric sought out the most crowded tavern, though, calling out to friends he found there.

  Hunter and Steve bought mead in dented metal goblets and stood among talkative, laughing men in the middle of the crowd. Steve saw that Hunter was looking around, so he did not bother; Hunter’s height advantage and better vision meant that he could do the job better and faster, anyway.

  Steve found the mead interesting at first, but not really to his liking. He held the goblet and glanced back out the open doorway. A small group of other men sauntered past.

  Hunter continued looking around the crowd. Steve slipped away from him through the crowd, moving toward the door. The noise in the tavern covered his footsteps. With a glance over his shoulder at Hunter’s back, he set his goblet down on a small table and stepped back outside. He hurried down the street.

  After the five earlier missions, Steve no longer worried about changing history through ordinary actions. He did not believe that he would alter the
fate of Britain or the shape of Arthurian legend by getting away from Hunter for a few minutes to explore the taverns on his own. At the same time, he knew he would feel more free to act spontaneously without Hunter.

  Steve followed the men in front of him into another tavern. This place had about half the crowd of the last one, but the patrons here were also cheerful and talkative. Steve moved to the bar and ordered more mead. When he turned, he found almost every man in the place looking at him.

  Slowly the tavern grew quiet.

  Steve looked from face to face. For the first time, he realized that Hunter’s company had protected him. No matter how curious or hostile the Britons had felt, none had confronted him in front of Hunter. The squad members had asked their questions politely. Now he was on his own.

  A young man with shoulder-length, reddish-blond hair smirked at him over a goblet.

  Steve decided to take the initiative. “Good evening,” he said pleasantly.

  “So it is, stranger.” The other man snickered. “Who are you, then? Some Pict from the wilds up north?”

  “Ha!” Another man sneered. “I say he’s a wild man from across the western sea.”

  “I came from Gaul,” said Steve, forcing a smile.

  “You’re no Gaul,” said the first man. “But you speak our language. What’s your name, then?”

  “Steve.”

  “Eh? What kind of name is that?”

  “Well, it’s short for Steven,” Steve said lamely. “What’s your name?”

  “I heard of a Stephen who followed Jesus,” said another man, quietly.

  “What’s your name?” Steve asked the blond man again, still trying to sound cheerful.

  The man ignored his question. “You were named for this Stephen?”

  “It was the origin of my name,” Steve said hesitantly. He had been named after a relative in the immediate sense. More importantly, he realized that the men around him really wanted to know something about him. He would have to speak up to satisfy them.

  “You are a follower of the Church, then.” The blond man cocked his head to one side, studying Steve’s face.