Invader iarit-6

by William F. Wu

  “Yes.” Steve did not know if Britain in this time had different denominations or sects, so he said nothing more. He also could not tell exactly what opinion the others might hold about this.

  “What is your purpose here?”

  “My friend and I have joined the troop of new recruits,” said Steve.

  “That’s true,” a man called from the back. “I saw him riding back through the gate with a big, tall fellow.”

  The blond man smiled, finally. “I am Bedwyr. I lead a scouting patrol.”

  “Really? Do you live here year-round?” Steve felt a wave of relief at his friendlier tone.

  Bedwyr slapped him on the shoulder. “Forgive our questions, friend. Artorius will lead us all out on campaign soon, but we are getting restless.”

  Steve glanced around. Not all of the other men had accepted his presence; some still eyed him suspiciously. However, no one else spoke.

  “Something wrong, friend?”

  “I’ve only seen a few taverns in your village. How about showing me around a little?”

  Bedwyr laughed. “Why, sure.” He threw back his head and emptied his goblet. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Steve took another swig of his mead and set his goblet down. As he followed Bedwyr out of the tavern, he was glad to see that no one else joined them. He did not feel that he had been made welcome, exactly, but being treated with indifference was good enough.

  Bedwyr started up the street, pointing to another small building with flickering candles in the window. “That’s a good place for food,” he said. “Not so much for drinking.”

  “Tell me something,” said Steve, falling into step next to him. “You’re the only one who seemed to think my joining Artorius meant something. The others still aren’t so friendly. What’s different about you?”

  “You mean, regarding you?” Bedwyr shrugged. “I spoke up first because I was the most curious about you. And Artorius needs every good man he can get.”

  “So I have heard.”

  “The Saxons don’t ride, but they come across the Channel like endless packs of wolves. Any man who will face them is all right with me. But you must understand that in these times, not everyone loves a stranger.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Enough of that.” Bedwyr pointed up in the moonlight toward the palace as they walked. “My barracks lie there, in the citadel. You can’t see it well in the darkness, but all of Artorius’s personal troop lives with him in that quarter. We are sworn to die for him if necessary.”

  “Are you in his personal bodyguard?”

  “No,” said Bedwyr. “You misunderstand. He has a personal household troop of about three hundred, depending on casualties from time to time. We live here permanently and accompany him on every trip he takes. His bodyguards are a special group of only twenty.”

  Steve wanted to get inside the palace somehow to look for MC 6. However, he did not want to appear too eager for fear of making Bedwyr suspicious of his motives. He decided to approach the subject obliquely.

  “How does a new man join the personal troop?” Steve asked. “To maintain the number around three hundred, men killed in battle obviously must be replaced.”

  “A man’s loyalty must be proven. For instance, my father died fighting in Artorius’s personal troop when I was young. My mother sent me when I came of age.”

  “So connections are important.”

  “Yes, or special courage and sacrifice on the battlefield.” Bedwyr nodded.

  “What about working in the palace?” Steve asked. “Artorius must have people who keep the fires burning and cook the food and clean up.”

  “What of it? You came to fight.”

  “Not for me,” said Steve. “I’m looking for a friend. A little guy. He’s coming here, but I don’t know if he’s already arrived or not. He wasn’t in Lucius’s troop, so I wonder if he’s working in the palace.”

  “Ah. I understand now.” Bedwyr shrugged. “People like that, the servants…I pay no attention.”

  “Who would know? Someone in the palace who hires the servants, I guess.”

  “Yes.”

  Steve waited, hoping Bedwyr would offer to help. When he did not, Steve decided to ask him outright. Steve only hoped he would not offend the warrior in some unpredictable way.

  “Could you introduce me to this person? I would like to ask about my friend.”

  “Mm, well, how about another drink, Steve? Even this little village has more taverns than we’ve seen yet.”

  “You can’t take a stranger to the palace?”

  Bedwyr grinned. “You really want to find this fellow. Does he owe you money?”

  “No, no.” Steve laughed. “But you’re right-finding him is very important to me.”

  “I’ll talk to a friend,” said Bedwyr slowly. “But no promises. Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’ll see who’s on sentry duty this watch. I know all those guys.”

  Steve grinned in the darkness. This was progress, at least. In Bedwyr’s company, he couldn’t call Hunter directly, but he switched on his lapel pin so that Hunter could overhear him.

  “How far is it to the palace?” Steve asked.

  Bedwyr laughed. “In this village? You’ve seen it. Nothing is more than a few minutes’ walk.”

  Steve knew Hunter would get the message from that exchange. They walked in silence through the streets. When they turned a corner, they left the taverns behind.

  A single torch burned in a holder over the main entrance to the palace. Two bored sentries sat on stools, cradling their spears. They looked up with interest when they heard footsteps approaching.

  “It’s Bedwyr,” he called out. “And a new friend. Good evening, Aetius. Wake up, Drustan.”

  They both grinned. “What are you doing here, Bedwyr? The taverns are still open.”

  “My friend Steve, here, now rides under Lucius. He seeks a friend who may be in the palace.”

  Drustan frowned. “He can’t go inside at this hour. In the morning, maybe.”

  “I don’t need to go inside,” said Steve. “My friend is called MC 6.”

  “Strange name,” said Bedwyr.

  “He may have taken another on his travels. Maybe I could describe him to you. He’s a little guy, slender and about so high.” Steve held his hand at MC 6’s height. “He probably doesn’t talk much, but he’s very agreeable. If you tell him to do something, he just does it. And he never hurts anybody-he won’t fight, but he’ll try to stop a fight between other people. Have you seen him?”

  The sentries looked at each other.

  “Well, there’s little Patricius,” said Drustan. “He’s only twelve.”

  “I’m looking for a grown man,” said Steve. “Just a little one.”

  “Medraut’s not too big,” said Aetius. “But he’s no stranger. He’s Artorius’s nephew.”

  “One of the cooks caught him scrapping with another young rascal yesterday,” said Drustan. “Medraut picks fights all the time.”

  “You sure he’s that little?” Aetius asked. “Maybe he’s gotten his growth since you saw him last.”

  “Well…it was only a few months ago.”

  “I fear we haven’t seen anyone like that,” said Drustan. “We would notice, I think. But maybe he works in the village somewhere.”

  “Maybe so. Thank you.” Steve sighed. Hunter had certainly heard the entire exchange. MC 6 probably had not returned to full size yet. “Bedwyr, shall we visit another tavern? I’ll buy.”

  “Not so fast,” said Drustan, grinning. “Artorius has been coming out for a quick walk every evening. He may come out any minute.”

  “You mean I could meet him?”

  “If he walks out in the same mood as usual, he’ll have no objection. He likes to mix with the men this time of year, as the campaign season approaches.”

  “I think I’ll hang around.” Steve laughed. “You mind, Bedwyr?”

  “Not at all
. I’ll linger with you. It can’t hurt to have a good word with the man at the top.”

  10

  Back in the hut, Jane helped Ygerna prepare another pot of mutton stew. At first, Ygerna had tried to dissuade her guest, but Jane had simply laughed lightly and picked up a knife to cut meat. Ygerna baked more bread and carefully seasoned the new stew with the sea salt Emrys had brought from the village.

  Ishihara had gone outside to cut more firewood in the twilight. Emrys stacked the pieces. Wayne alternately paced outside restlessly and sat on a stool inside the hut. The children, now growing accustomed to their visitors, paid less attention to them.

  As she cut chunks of mutton, Jane tried to decide how to proceed. Now that she knew Hunter and Steve had joined the troop of riders, she could try to get their attention. On the other hand, Wayne and Ishihara surely knew she hoped to do that. When they went to the village tomorrow, she expected Ishihara would become even more attentive to her than usual to prevent her from escaping. Her greatest fear was that Wayne would leave her here with Ishihara. Then she would have no chance.

  Wayne and Ishihara came inside the hut, followed by Emrys. Jane glanced up but said nothing. Emrys closed the door behind him.

  “Shall I tell Jane?” Ishihara asked Wayne.

  “Might as well.” Wayne shrugged.

  “I have spoken with Emrys about tomorrow,” said Ishihara. “Based on the number of ewes pregnant in his flock, he has decided to take more sheep to the village tomorrow. We will go with him to look for MC 6.”

  “Okay.” Jane shrugged, feigning indifference. Actually, she was deeply relieved. Apparently they were going to take her; that meant she might have a chance to get away.

  When the main doors of the palace opened, Steve tensed with excitement. Six men came out, wearing now-familiar plain wool tunics and leather boots and leggings; a servant inside closed the doors again. Both sentries stood up alertly.

  The man in front smiled at the sentries. “Good evening, men. Did I wake you?”

  Drustan and Aetius both laughed and shook their heads, their admiration for him evident in their faces.

  “No, sir, Riothamus,” said Drustan. “Not us.”

  “Well, I know this is boring duty. I did my turns on watch when I was young.”

  Steve tried to get a good look at Artorius Riothamus in the flickering torchlight. He seemed to be in his early thirties, of average height and a medium build. His shoulder-length hair was light brown, as was the narrow, neatly clipped beard along his jawline.

  “Good evening, sir,” said Bedwyr politely. He, too, looked fascinated.

  “Good evening to you.” Artorius looked at him in the uneven torchlight. “Ah, Bedwyr, isn’t it? You lead one of the scouting patrols.”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  Artorius looked at Steve. “I don’t believe I know you, friend.”

  “I, uh-”

  “This is Steve, a man from the eastern end of the Roman Empire,” said Bedwyr. “He and a friend from Linnuis have joined Lucius’s troop.”

  “Ah! I’m glad to hear it. Welcome, Steve.”

  “Thank you,” Steve said shyly.

  “Have you and your friend ridden before? Can you sit a horse?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Artorius laughed lightly and gave Steve a pat on the shoulder as he passed. “We need you.” He and his entourage walked on down the street.

  Steve turned to watch him go. Artorius was personable and unpretentious, but he also came across as reserved, confident, and supportive of his men. Steve liked him and realized that this personal magnetism, combined with his military successes, helped create the legend that grew after his death.

  “Still ready for another drink?” Bedwyr asked him cheerfully.

  “Sure.”

  Harriet had accepted the invitation of Gwenhyvaer, the young woman she had befriended, to her small room. She had recognized the name as the original Welsh from which the more modern

  “Guinevere” had been derived. Now a fire burned brightly in a stone fireplace; candles lit the corners of the room. The two women sat on each side of the stone hearth, with fur lap-robes keeping their legs warm.

  Gwenhyvaer was stitching the hem of a gown by the firelight. Watching her, Harriet decided that Gwenhyvaer was even younger than Harriet had first thought. Most likely, she was still in her late teens, which made her an adult in this culture.

  “How many children do you have?” Gwenhwyvaer asked, glancing up from her sewing.

  “Uh-none.” Because she and Hunter had not discussed that question, she was caught unprepared.

  “No?” Gwenhwyvaer’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Harriet shrugged, suppressing a smile. “No.”

  “Oh, my. Did they…I mean, did they die young? Or you never had any?”

  “I never had any.”

  “That’s so sad. How does your husband feel about this? Doesn’t he want sons?”

  “We no longer worry about it,” said Harriet. “It’s all right.”

  “I hope I have children who grow up.” Gwenhyvaer smiled shyly. “My father says Artorius likes me. He’s hoping to arrange for us to be married.”

  Harriet smiled at her youthful embarrassment. “You must love him.”

  She giggled. “Every woman I know does, I think. At least, the younger ones.”

  “Has your father been with Artorius long?”

  “Oh, yes. He’s been advising him on Roman cavalry tactics. My father is part Roman. He served in the legions in Gaul until about ten years ago. So did his father, before the legions left Britain. He was stationed up by Hadrian’s Wall, on the Pictish border.”

  “I see. You come from a long line of soldiers.”

  Gwenhwyvaer nodded soberly. “The men will be going on campaign soon. My grandfather died in a battle. I wish my father would stay home.”

  “He still rides with Artorius, then?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “But of course he needs my father. The Saxons keep coming and coming. Father says Artorius must ride out and fight them on their land, not wait for them to march here.”

  Harriet stifled a yawn and glanced at the sleep pallet that servants had prepared for her. With the fire nearby, and using the fur lap-robe as a coverlet, she would be warm here tonight. For now, however,. she would stay up talking as late as her hostess wished.

  Looking at Gwenhwyvaer, Harriet thought to herself that this teenager could not possibly ever imagine the kind of role she would play in Arthurian legend, fictional though it would become-or across how many centuries she would be remembered, at least in some form.

  Jane found the morning routine at the hut the same as the day before. Everyone at the hut ate breakfast and Emrys picked out which sheep he would drive to the village. The only difference, as Emrys drove the cart behind the small flock again, was that he did not take any more firewood. Jane guessed that his family had no more wood to spare. Without the need to load the cart, they left earlier than they had yesterday.

  On the way, Jane watched the main gate of the tor ahead, to see the troop of riders again. This time, however, the riders did not leave before Emrys brought his small flock and the cart up to the gate. As they started up the steep, cobbled road to the village, Jane saw the riders gather around some sort of storage building and the paddock, saddling their horses and leading them toward the gate. She could not see Hunter and Steve in the crowd, so she assumed they were inside the building.

  “I want to ask Emrys to stop,” Ishihara said suddenly to Wayne. “Do I have your permission?”

  “Of course,” said Wayne.

  Jane tensed.

  Steve stood behind Hunter just inside the tack building, waiting in line to pick up their saddles and bridles. They had just finished a bland but plentiful breakfast of hot cereal; Hunter identified wheat and barley in it. Then they had walked down the slope, where Hunter had picked up his leather armor from the armorer and laced it on.

  Steve’s a
rms and shoulders were sore from the unaccustomed exercise the previous day.

  “Hunter, by the time this is over, I’ll be in great shape.” He grinned and moved up with the line. “Do you think we should stay with the troop even though MC 6 isn’t in it?” He lowered his voice. “Maybe we could try for duty in the village, to be nearer the palace.”

  Hunter turned, looking over Steve’s head out the open door behind them.

  “What is it?”

  “Silence, please,” Hunter said quietly.

  Steve waited patiently, though other men continued to talk around them. Horses snorted and their hooves clopped outside. Steve guessed that Hunter was attempting to sort out some other sound, but he had no idea what it could be.

  “Come outside with me,” said Hunter. He left the line and moved back toward the door. The men behind him made room for him and Steve followed closely.

  “What is it?” Steve asked quietly.

  “I heard the footstep pattern of Wayne Nystrom nearby.”

  “Yeah?” Suddenly excited, Steve hurried out the door after him. “Jane must be close.”

  Hunter stopped abruptly. Steve did, too, when he saw Wayne simply walking right up to them with a smirk. He seemed to be alone.

  “Where’s Jane?” Steve demanded.

  “Don’t worry. You know Ishihara can’t allow any harm to come to her.”

  “Yeah? He’s not here to protect you.” Angrily, Steve took a step toward him. Before he took a second step, however, he felt Hunter take his upper arm from behind and hold him firmly in place.

  “Stop,” Hunter added calmly.

  “Where is she?”Steve demanded again.

  “Why have you approached us?” Hunter asked. “Do you have something to say?”

  “I certainly do.” Wayne grinned. “Let’s negotiate a little.”

  “On what basis?”

  “I’ve been here a week. That’s given me time to start a routine here, to get settled. And to make a few friends. I’m not desperate here, as I was in Roman Germany.”

  “You say you’ve been here a week,” said Steve. “Does that mean you sent Jane and Ishihara somewhere else?”