Camulod Chronicles Book 8 - Clothar the Frank

by Whyte, Jack

  I felt myself smiling, slightly bemused. "So why do you tell me this now? Am I supposed to stop thinking of you as Ursus now that you're leaving?"

  "No, not at all." He glanced down at himself, checking the few possessions that hung on either side of his saddle, then took a firm grip on his reins, preparing to ride off. On the point of digging in his spurs, however, he looked at me again and pursed his lips, allowing his chin to sink down onto his chest. "You're a good man, Clothar," he said. "Better than many another twice your age that I've met in my travels. I have enjoyed riding with you and I regret having to leave, but we've discussed that. One thing, however, I would like you to recall and understand when I am gone." He paused, and I sat watching him, waiting. "There is no Ursus," he resumed eventually. "Ursus is but a mask behind which my true face, my true identity, lies hidden. I go through life meeting people in the hundreds, perhaps thousands, and of all who have known me as Ursus, I have only made myself known as Perceval to two.

  "One of those was a woman, and I was to be wed to her some years ago . . . ten years ago, in truth. She lived in a small town along the southern coast, where people made their living catching fish. I met her when I was stationed for a while in Massilia, which was close by—I was a regular legionary in those days. She was beautiful, and we loved each other from the start, right from the first time we met. But before we could be wed she was violated in a pirate raid one afternoon and it later turned out that she had become pregnant."

  He fell silent, and for a time I thought he would say no more, but then he continued, "There was no question of the babe's being mine. She and I had never known each other and she had been virgin. I was hurt by what had been done to her, but I was never angry at her for it. How can you blame the ground for being in the way when the rain falls? So, we decided, we would proceed and be married and we would raise the child whose father could have been any one of five or six men. I went campaigning soon after that, against the same pirates, and you can be sure I was anticipating catching up to them. They had been raiding all along the coast and had finally succeeded in drawing down the wrath of the military governor of Massilia. We were to be wed at the end of the campaign, but winter came late that year and the campaign dragged on, so that by the time I made my way back to Massilia and to her, she had run her term and died giving birth to the pirate's child. Her name was Maria, and to her, I was Perceval."

  He sniffed, but it was not a tearful sniff, more a snort of determination. "You are the second one I've told my name to. Remember me as Ursus if you wish—that's all you've ever known me as. But think of me too, from time to time, as your friend Perceval. Farewell."

  We embraced once again, awkwardly, mounted as we were, and then he rode away and I watched him until he vanished over a distant rise in the road. Only then, when I was sure he had gone, did I turn myself back towards my own route, where I could see Shonni the sergeant sitting his mount waiting for me halfway between me and the two big trees. I touched my spurs to my mount's flanks, bringing him up into an easy lope that devoured the distance to where Shonni had already kicked his own horse into motion again, and we rode in silence, side by side, our ears and eyes attuned constantly to whatever might come to us from the five scouts who rode ahead of us and on our flanks. I have no idea what Shonni was thinking of as we rode briskly along the road to Genava's shores, but my own thoughts were full of my friend Perceval.

  3

  We took Castle Genava at the start of things without great difficulty, losing only one man in the process. I had arrived back before the walls alone, leaving my six-man escort concealed among the trees at my back, and I was challenged immediately by a vigilant guard on the walls who was most evidently not one of Clodio's group of aged veterans. I waved up at the fellow without urgency, merely acknowledging his challenge and slowing my mount from a canter to a walk as I did so. On the tall staff above the man's head, where Ban's banner had hung when I was last there, Gunthar's colors now flaunted his defiance to the world. Looking about me as I allowed my horse to approach the walls at a walk, I could see no signs to indicate that Chulderic and Samson had been there, and when I was convinced of that I raked my mount's flanks with my spurs and sent him into a dead run, swerving him tightly around and back towards the safety of the trees. Surprisingly, no one made any attempt to shoot at me as I rode off.

  From there I made my way directly to the red-wall caves with my six companions, and this time we were challenged and stopped before we could approach within two hundred paces of the entrance. Chulderic and Samson, it turned out, had elected to set up their camp in the woodlands surrounding the caves while they mulled over what they would do next. Both leaders were surprised but pleased to see me and glad to know, finally, what had happened when I arrived back ahead of Beddoc. They listened in stunned silence as I told them about Theuderic's death at the hands of his brother and about Brach's suspicions that Gunthar had intended to abduct the Queen. There was little discussion of my report, however, for there really was nothing to discuss. What had been done was done and no amount of discussion could undo any of it. I told them that Brach had taken a party of his horsemen to bury his brother's body and that he would be following behind me in a matter of hours.

  Then I asked casually if either of them had seen Clodio, and Chulderic told me that he had, the previous day when they had first arrived and were setting up camp. When I asked them where the old man had come from, Chulderic merely shrugged his shoulders before rising to his feet and walking away from the fire.

  Samson, however, was more observant and asked me why I was curious about Clodio. He, too, had noticed the old man the previous day, simply because Clodio was as distinctive as he was, but like Chulderic, he had paid no attention to, nor had any interest in, how Clodio had arrived there. I gave him a noncommittal answer, and shortly thereafter I excused myself. I made my way around the camp, drifting aimlessly for the benefit of anyone who might be watching me, until I could wander eventually into the red-wall caves themselves.

  It was never quite dark in the caves during daylight—except in the deepest recesses at the rear—because the outer wall of the red sandstone formation that gave them their name was pierced and honeycombed with weirdly shaped and fluted holes that served as windows and provided illumination enough for the purposes of most of the people who used the caves—mainly the local boys, who had come to the caves for generations to escape from adult supervision for a while. I stopped just over the threshold to ensure that no one else was there, and when I was confident that I was alone I moved swiftly across the sandy floor and into the darkness around the corner at the deepest point of the main cave. It was close to noon, I knew, and I was hoping I might be there when Clodio's secret door swung open, but he spoke to me before my eyes had even adjusted to the darkness, and I could have sworn I heard a smile in his voice and that he knew what I had been up to.

  We moved back together to where I could see out into the main body of the caves and be sure no one was approaching, but to be absolutely certain that we were alone I signaled him to remain where he was while I stepped out into the light and searched the caves once again, swiftly. Only then did we talk, and I began by rattling off a number of questions, telling him to think about them for the time being and be prepared to answer them when I had finished. I then told him what was in my mind about recapturing the castle, and that I had discussed it with Brach but had said nothing yet to Chulderic or Samson either about my plan or about the existence of the caverns. I assured him that I would tell them, however, as soon as Brach arrived, adding that since we had no time to waste I would have an assault force ready to go into the castle that same night at whatever hour he chose to come and guide us in.

  When it was his turn to speak, Clodio was to the point. Beddoc had arrived outside the walls less than an hour after my own departure the previous day, he told me, and Clodio had refused him entry, leaving him and his men to cool their heels outside while Clodio waited to see what else might develop. So
me two hours after that, Gunthar had returned at the head of a party numbering in the hundreds. Four hundred was Clodio's best estimate, plus the better part of another hundred brought by Beddoc. This time Clodio had thought it best to lower the bridge and permit Gunthar and his men to enter, because he knew he had planted the seed of a night attack from within in my mind and he knew, too, that it was better and safer to have Gunthar and his men inside, behind the walls, while waiting for Chulderic and Samson to arrive.

  Gunthar had by this time met up with Beddoc and learned that his suppositions were correct. He had swept in and occupied the castle as though he intended to use it to full advantage this time, and he had begun his new tenure by doubling the standing guard. Watching him, admittedly from a distance, Clodio had gauged that the usurper was in fine form, bubbling with confidence and determination. No mention had been made of Theuderic by anyone, and Clodio had known nothing of his death until I told him about it, but even in the darkness of the passage wherein we stood I could see the sudden stiffness that came over him as he drew himself erect with a hiss of breath.

  In response to my question on the strength of the garrison, he added a hundred to his original estimate. Five score more had shown up shortly after dawn today, he said, from the southward, commanded by a Burgundian warrior whose name was hated and feared by the people of this entire region. This fellow had a reputation as a fearsome and indomitable fighter, but he was also reputed to be an enthusiastic torturer who killed for pleasure. I took note of that, but my sole concern at that time was the vulnerability of the castle's garrison.

  Eventually, when Clodio and I were satisfied that each knew the other's mind on the matters at hand, I left him to return to the castle through the caverns while I went outside again to meet with Chulderic and Samson. Clodio would come back to the caves an hour after nightfall, and when he did we would be waiting for him with our assault party. I had thought a score of men would be sufficient for our needs, but Clodio disagreed. He concurred with my judgment that fewer was better, but he knew what we would face once inside the walls, and his estimate was that half a score again— thirty men in all—was the least we would need.

  Brach arrived midway through the afternoon, and as soon as the greetings and commiserations over Theuderic's death and burial were done with, I called for attention and asked Chulderic to post guards outside the caves to protect our privacy while we held a command council inside, away from curious ears. Chulderic, clearly astonished at my presumption, glanced wide eyed at Samson and the other senior commanders present, but before he could question my authority, Brach stepped to my side and added his voice to mine, telling the others that there were matters to discuss that they knew nothing about yet, and that I was the one who had access to, and command over, the secrets involved. Still visibly reluctant and even skeptical, Chulderic chewed on his opinion and made quite a show of deciding, with evident reluctance, to say nothing of what he truly thought at the time, but it was clear to me as he issued his orders to post the guards that he would have little patience with anything I might have to say unless it proved to be startlingly original.

  Well, it was that, and Chulderic's attitude changed quickly once I began to speak. My first mention of the King's Caverns and the secret entrance to the castle that lay concealed in them brought snorts of derision from my listeners. They had all spent their lifetimes on the shores of Lake Genava and in Ban's castle and none of them had ever heard as much as a hint of a secret entranceway to the castle. Such things were in the realm of sorcery and magic, or were a boy's fantasy. The muffled snorts grew louder as men began to vent their scorn for me and my idiot ideas, but I settled everything by simply raising my hand and stepping forward to face Chulderic, almost nose to nose with him in a fashion that few would dare employ towards the veteran commander, whose lack of patience and shortness of temper were both proverbial. People took note of my stance and paid attention, nudging each other and directing their eyes to the confrontation between us, but it took long moments before the noise began to abate to any degree and even so, it would not have died away completely had Chulderic not asked me what I had to add to what I had already said.

  As soon as he spoke, silence fell over the assembly, which numbered eleven men besides myself: Chulderic, Samson, Brach, and eight other senior commanders, all of whom had been promoted to the posts they now held by King Ban himself. I took my eyes off Chulderic's and looked about me, making eye contact with every person there, including Brach, before looking back at the senior commander.

  "I have not been in these caves for more than six years, Chulderic," I said. "But today when I arrived I asked you a question . . . a very particular question about someone else. Do you recall?"

  Chulderic was frowning now as he glanced at Samson and then back to me. "You asked me about Clodio—about whether or not I'd seen him. And I told you he was here yesterday. What's the import of that?"

  "The import is that Clodio is in Castle Genava, behind the walls. Brach, do I lie?"

  "No, on my mother’s honour." He addressed the others. "Clothar told me when he joined us yesterday that Theuderic had left the castle in the care of Clodio when he rode out after Gunthar, and that Clodio had told Clothar of a secret entrance, through a chain of underground chambers stretching from here into the castle and known as the King's Caverns. Clodio claimed it had been shown to him more than a score of years ago by my father, King Ban."

  Before anyone could react, I raised my voice again. "Now ask yourself this, Chulderic: if Clodio is in Gunthar's castle now, how came he here yesterday? You and Samson both saw him. He did not come with your party, because he's too crippled and infirm to ride anywhere, so where did he come from, and where did he vanish to thereafter? Because he's not here. He's not in your camp. I swear to you, he is back in Castle Genava with Gunthar, but he will return here tonight, after dark, to lead us back into the castle in the dead of night with a party of thirty men." Brach was grinning at me and at the effect I had produced, and then I folded my arms and sat on a block of stone, where I waited for the furor to die down.

  That night, Clodio selected a score of men from the sixty best Samson and Brach could provide for his consideration, then blindfolded all of them and led them into the castle under the command of two of Samson's captains who had also been blindfolded until they were within the caverns' entrance. I am sure I was not the only person watching the selection process who noticed that Clodio picked only the smallest men from among those recommended. Even the two officers appeared to have been chosen by him precisely because of their small stature.

  Before they set out, Clodio told the men that he would lead them through a secret doorway into the first of a chain of caverns that stretched for more than a mile to the King's castle. Once they were through the secret entranceway, their blindfolds would be removed. There were places in the caverns where the passage was both difficult and dangerous, he warned, and none of it was easy, since several of the caverns were enormous and as black as Hades. Clodio would lead them through all the perils, he said, to the deepest level of the castle, far below where they were standing now. It would be damp down there, so far beneath their feel, and dark. No one ever went down there, he said, but even if they did, they would find nothing, for the entrance there was as magically hidden as the one through which their party was about to enter.

  The men chosen for the raid wore no armour and carried only the lightest of weaponry—daggers, swords and bows. Their strongest armour would be the surprise and fear they generated by their sudden appearance in the middle of the enemy stronghold. Their task was to move swiftly and silently to silence and dispose of the guards, most of whom would be looking outward, expecting no attack from behind.

  I did not join the raiding party, although it had been my hope to go in with my two cousins using the secret approach. Yet Clodio brought us word that Gunthar had a ploy in motion. Even as he spoke, he told us, Gunthar was leading a force of three hundred men, horse and foot, out of th
e castle under cover of darkness to seek out and destroy Brach and his small party and capture the Lady Vivienne. Brach and I exchanged glances when we heard that. We knew the Queen was safe, and we knew, too, that Gunthar was not going to find and destroy Brach by riding away to search for him on this night of all nights, when Brach was encamped within a mile of Gunthar's gates, under his very nose.

  I immediately wondered, nevertheless, if this might be some cunning trap set up to entice our forces out into the open, because Gunthar must suspect that Chulderic and Samson were close by. Perhaps he hoped that by leaving the safety of the walls with three hundred men he might encourage Chulderic to commit to some kind of move against him, at which point he could swing about and return to catch Chulderic's force between his own and the castle. Of course, thinking along such lines tends to resemble searching for the center of an onion . . . layer upon layer of possibility come to light and are then rejected, only to be replaced by another, identical layer.