The Eagles' Brood

XVII

At the tenth hour of the following morning, I witnessed what was probably the most portentous event that ever occurred in the Great Council Hall of Camulod, an occasion that, to my mind at least, unquestionably dwarfed all of the glories to come in the days of Arthur's reign, and indubitably influenced all of them. It was a gathering—almost a ceremonial—that, though small in itself, was to influence the course of life in the province of Britain for ever.

My father had summoned a plenary meeting of the Council and augmented the company with the full officer complement of the garrison, including the ten senior members of the Centuria, the warrant officers. All military personnel were instructed to attend in full parade uniform, so it was a brilliant and colourful assembly. Extra seating had been brought into the Council Hall to accommodate the unusual number of people in attendance, and the circle of fifty or so men took up almost the entire circumference of the Hall, leaving the centre empty, with an open segment at the back of the circle to allow the group of priests to enter.

Everyone was punctual. My father began by outlining the situation for the benefit of the partially informed and the totally uninformed, of whom there were very few. He followed his outline with the announcement that he had arrived at a unilateral decision on what to do, and that his decision would be binding upon everyone in the Colony for the ensuing twenty-four-hour period, at the end of which he would be prepared to listen to arguments and to accommodate compromise in response to intelligent and informed opposition. Until that time, however, his decision and the enforcement of it would be absolute.

He had invited their attendance here today, he went on, to witness the delivery of his decision to the visiting priests so that no one, whether in the Council or on the staff of the garrison, could claim to have been unaware of developments. Having said all of this, he ordered the priests to be brought into the assembly under escort.

There was a loud murmur of comment and speculation at this order, which my father chose to ignore, and the noise grew and was sustained during the interval that followed. I noticed that my father took care in the meantime to allow no eye contact between himself and any member of the assembly. Someone called his name, but he ignored the summons, turning and beckoning me. I walked across and leant towards him.

"I only regret that Uther has not returned. Of all the people here, he is the one with the greatest right to have been consulted in this matter."

"Don't let his absence concern you too much, Father," I said with a small smile. "We both know Uther well enough to know that he will have no quarrel with your findings, unless it be on the grounds of too much restraint. Had he been here and subjected to the abuse you had to face, these priests might have been sorry men today."

As I returned to my seat, there came a sudden hush, spreading inward from the entrance to the hall, and we looked up to see the seven priests being brought forward into the open circle. Centurion Popilius himself advanced ahead of the six-man escort party who herded the priests to the centre of die circle and then came to a halt. The silence in the room was absolute and my father, who, like everyone else in the Hall, was seated, remained sitting as he spoke into it.

"Thank you, Centurion Popilius. You may dismiss your men, but ask them to remain outside. You yourself may join us. There is a seat for you." Popilius saluted and did the General's bidding, instructing his soldiers to remain within hail. While the escort were leaving the hall I gazed in frank curiosity at the priests who stood before us.

They were all young, and all were dressed in ragged, dirty black cassocks bound at the waist with plain rope. It was to this fact that I at first attributed the strange aura of uniformity I sensed about them. It took me some time to redefine that initial reaction. There was a sameness, certainly, but it had nothing to do with what they wore; it was in their eyes, and it was almost indescribable. The word that first occurred to me was wildness, but as this confrontation continued I replaced that with arrogance, then disdain, then intolerance, and finally fanaticism—although I had never heard the expression prior to my father's use of it the day before.

Whatever that expression in their eyes signified, I found it disconcerting to die point of being almost frightening. Then I remembered the name of the Hebrew fanatics of biblical times, the followers of Simon Zelotes, the Zealots, the men who would gladly die for their own, steeped-in-blood beliefs. You could tell simply by looking at these men that they believed, deep in their souls, that they were the masters here and we were all their inferiors. There was no deference or civility apparent in the demeanour of any of them. They looked around them at the assembly with sneers of defiance on their faces, and then their leader took one long step forward and addressed my father in a loud, hectoring tone that no one in the assembly hall could fail to hear.

"I assume, Picus Britannicus, from the numbers you have assembled here, that you have decided to make public your renouncement of the heretic Pelagius and his misguided teachings and to seek the forgiveness of Holy Mother Church!" Someone seated in the circle of the hall drew in his breath with an audible hiss, but the priest continued, "It is only fair to advise you, however, that in the light of your treatment of myself and these of my brethren who have shared your prison with me, the clemency you seek might be slower in being granted than it might otherwise have been. To lay hands on, or to offer insult to, the envoys of the Holy Father in Rome is not the best way to seek the favour of the Church."

The speaker, a tall and emaciated man who could have been any age from twenty-five to thirty-five, had a voice that grated on the ears. His face was so thin as to appear cadaverous and I knew his breath would be rancid and foul. My father swept him with his eyes from the hem of his garment to the top of his head and then spoke as though the priest had never opened his mouth.

"I have assembled these people here to witness the delivery of the decision I promised you when we last spoke." He paused, seeming to weigh his words. "I am Commander here—Commander-in-Chief of this Colony. In terms of years, I am an old man, although by the grace of God, I am still young enough and healthy—"

"I warn you, Britannicus! You stand excommunicate! Speak not of the grace of God in terms of yourself. You blaspheme!"

This outburst produced a shocked reaction from the assembly. My father gestured for silence, then drew a deep, deep breath and held it until his face began to grow red, at which point he released the pent-up air steadily and audibly. I, who knew all the signs, had never seen him so angry. The tall priest, however, stood his ground boldly, his face a mask of arrogant intransigence.

Finally, my father spoke, his words slow and sibilant, his voice pitched ominously low. "Priest, hear me clearly and without distortion. I dislike threats, either given or received. And I dislike hasty judgments. Most of all, however, I dislike bad manners. You are here to hear my decision on a matter of great Import, and by the crucified Christ, Son of the Living God, you will hear it in courteous silence if I have to have you stifled and bound hand and foot!"

Again he quelled an outburst, this time of approval, with a glance of implacable anger, so that the spontaneous support subsided immediately. He returned his eyes to the priests. "Hear me, now! I suffered your abuse and your scandalous tongue in silence for hours yesterday... That was yesterday. Today, it is my turn to speak, and not only will any interruption be unwelcome, it will not be tolerated! I will, as I have said, stifle you and bind you if you force me to. The choice is yours." He paused, awaiting a reaction, and receiving none, continued.

"I am a soldier. As a young soldier, I had no time for religious pursuits. As I have grown older, however, I have made some study of the Christian doctrine, particularly the spread of it in Britain. It has been, by and large, a Roman religion, spread, over the years, through Roman settlement and Roman civilization. The people of Britain are not, or have not been until recently, predominantly Christian. In the past few years, since the withdrawal of Rome, they have had other things to occupy them. Survival, for example... The people of this land are beset on every side by invaders. North, south, east and west, they have to contend with Picts, Saxons, Angles, Jutes, Franks and Scots. All of these come to kill, to conquer and despoil, to pillage and destroy. None of them have the slightest regard for the people of Britain other than as sacrificial sheep.

"If you travel elsewhere in Britain you will find temples to the old gods, still in use. The foothold of the Christian Church in this land is tenuous, at best. That it exists at all is due to the efforts of the bishops here in Britain, men like our own Bishop Alaric, whose saintly piety and caring gave hope to the people who knew him. When a man, or a woman, can have no hope of being able to keep anything he or she owns for any length of time, then that person's sense of personal dignity and worth, his own integrity, becomes special to him. Bishop Alaric and his fellows worked hard to keep the people of this land free from despair. They taught them love, charity and the belief in the merciful omnipotence of God and His Son, Jesus... They offered people the hope of happiness beyond this squalid and vexatious life on earth, and they adopted the tenets of Pelagius, because they believed his teachings and beliefs to be righteous and wholesome in the eyes of God." He paused again and such was the power of iris delivery that none attempted to interrupt him. Eventually he continued.

"Let me repeat that. Alaric and his fellow bishops believed that the ways and the teachings of Pelagius were righteous and wholesome in the eyes of God. By direct association, Alaric and his like saw no dichotomy between the tenets of Pelagius and the word of the Christ Himself." The tall priest made as if to speak but he was cut off by the savage, chopping motion of my father's hand. "And now," my father went on, his voice level and temperate, his delivery slow and considered, "now, in the space of three short days, we are ordered—not requested—to accept the allegation—not the fact—that Pelagius is apostate, that his teachings are sinful, and that our beloved friend and mentor, Bishop Alaric of Verulamium, was a sinful man, misguided and inept, irresponsible and incompetent...

"We are commanded to recant our allegedly profane beliefs; to accept your unsubstantiated assurance that our entire way of life is in error; to admit, under pain of eternal damnation, that your way of worshipping our God is the right way and the only way; and to sue for your clemency. We are required to review our entire social structure and to relegate our own womenfolk to an inferior status that is entirely alien to us as Celts and Romans in the first place, and to the entire social mores of the people of Britain thereafter."

Picus's voice was the only sound audible in the room. He paused once more to let all he had said sink home to his listeners, then continued. "All of this you made abundantly clear to me yesterday. You made it painfully clear. And I told you then that I would consider your words and your message and arrive at a decision on how life in this Colony is to proceed from this day forth. In the meantime, you have been kept apart from my people. Imprisoned, as you choose to describe it. Let me point out to you that the laws of hospitality in this Colony and in this land are sacrosanct, and mutually binding upon host and visitor... It was you who forced my hand in the matter of your detention, by causing unnecessary, unwarranted and unprecedented strife beneath my roof. I chose to extend that detention after my interview with you yesterday, because your intolerant zeal alarmed me when I considered the effect it might have among these people of ours, who are simple people, unused to sophistry, oratory and semantics.

"It is with my mind attentive to the needs and the general welfare of the people of our Colony that I have deliberated upon your words and made my decision. I have said I am a soldier. I am no philosopher, nor am I a theologist, but for better or worse, I have a responsibility for the welfare of this Colony, and I believe in fulfilling one's responsibilities. It is therefore my responsibility, I believe, to learn more of these sweeping changes of which you bring word, and to seek assurance from the highest level of authority to which I can gain access that such changes come as the result of careful consideration and debate, and are not foisted upon us simply at the whim of a mere man or even a group of men seeking to further their own aims. It would be irresponsible of me to accept your assertions at face value: they are too sweeping, too extreme and too important to be taken lightly. That is my administrative decision, as Commander- in-Chief of this Colony. Take it with you back to Rome... We are not obdurate, but neither are we prepared to risk endangering our immortal souls without prudent investigation of the circumstances governing this signal change of posture within the Church." He paused again, and again the silence held until he resumed.

"On the other hand, as a man and a soldier, I find that I have no sympathy for your point of view. I find this idea of Monasticism both odious and offensive. It seems unnatural. Had Jesus wished his followers to behave in this fashion, He would have clearly stated so, or so it seems to me. He was an articulate speaker on all other things. I hear no misogyny in the Words of Jesus. Was it not He who said: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone?... That, sir priest, tells me that the Christ Himself recognized man's right to responsibility and self-determination. I will embrace the tenets of Pelagius personally, until someone more wholesome and more reasonable than you convinces me that I am wrong."

The priest could bear his own silence no longer. "You are accursed!" he cried out. "You are blasted with the sin of Lucifer, gross pride! And you will burn in Hades!"

My father's patience finally snapped and his voice became brittle with disgust. "Get these people out of my sight! Popilius, see to it they are given food and drink and have them taken under heavy escort to the borders of our land and forbidden re-entry." He had to shout to make himself heard above the imprecations of the priests who were now all shouting, creating pandemonium. Popilius's men must have been waiting directly outside, for they appeared immediately and began herding the shouting zealots out of the hall, and even after they had left, their shouting continued. "Popilius!" My father's voice had risen to a roar.

"General?"

"A heavy escort. I want those people out of here quickly and I want them out now. Put them in a wagon. Gag them if you have to."

Popilius left and my father sat down again, ashen-faced. For a long time nobody in the Hall moved or spoke. The shouting outside died away into silence. Then Julius Terrix, leader of the Council and the son of one of the first Colonists, rose to his feet.

"Picus Britannicus. You have said that your decision is to be inviolable for twenty-four hours, and you have taken upon yourself an awesome responsibility in behaving as you have this day." I felt tension knotting in the pit of my stomach anew, but he went on, "I have no right to speak for any other here, since we have not acted as a Council in this matter, but I, personally, endorse your stance, your decision, and the thoughtfulness with which you presented it. On behalf of myself and my wife, I thank you."

Everyone in the room must have been holding his breath, as I was, waiting for Julius Terrix to make his pronouncement, for as soon as his thanks were uttered the entire circle of men were on their feet, cheering my father in a way that I had never heard before. I crossed to his side, my heart swelling with pride and affection, and offered him my hand, and only the steely pressure of his fingers on my arm betrayed how relieved he was by the general approval of his actions. I nodded to him and would have left him to his congratulations, but he retained his hold on my arm and pulled me aside.

"Well," he grunted. "That's one burden out of the way."

I grinned at him. "Aye, and well out of the way."

He frowned. "It will come back, believe me. We have not heard the last of this affair."

I blinked at him. "You said 'one burden,' Father. Are there others?"

"Aye. One other, but now it's yours."

I stared at him, wordless, and he continued, speaking in a low voice and glancing around to make sure no one could overhear him.

"They've turned me into an Administrator, Gay, and tied me to this Council Chamber. My soldiering days are over." He held up a peremptory hand to cut off my protest. "No, hear me, boy, and listen well. I am not unhappy about what I am saying. Nor is this any sudden whim or hasty decision. The matter has been in my mind for long months now. It's time for you to take command, formally, of our fighting forces." He paused, eyeing me keenly, one brow high on his forehead. "I'm not saying I'm too old, boy, so don't look at me that way. What I am saying is that you are ready for command and I have other matters, some of them vital, demanding more of my attention. I will still ride out to battle as and when the need arises, but time is pouring through my fingers like sand and there is too much to be done here in Camulod. That is my decision and there is no alternative, no recourse. You command. Uther will answer to you, and you will still answer to me in all but military decisions. There the last word is yours from this time on. Are we agreed?"

"Yes," I said, finally, bereft of words and fighting an urge to stammer, "but—"

"No buts. I shall inform the others—everyone—this evening. You have earned this position, my son. Now live with it." He gripped me, briefly and hard by the upper arm, nodding and smiling. "I look forward to serving under you, Caius Britannicus."

He spun on his heel and went to join his well-wishers without looking back, leaving me with my chaotic thoughts. Finally I collected myself and made my way out of the hall and back to my quarters in order to rid myself of my cumbersome finery before the noon meal.

I was surprised and pleased to find young Prince Donuil waiting for me in my rooms. He rose as I entered and nodded to me in a gracious, not unfriendly manner. I grinned at him and threw my cloak across the table that served as my desk.

"Good morning. I hope you have not been waiting too long? There was a Council meeting."

"I know. I found one of your soldiers who speaks my tongue. He told me there was great excitement. Then I heard all the shouting and commotion in the yard. I thought about going to see what was happening, but there was anger in the voices, so I came here instead."

"A wise move. Yes, there was anger in the voices, beyond a doubt."

"What is going on? Or can you not tell me?"

"Why not?" As I changed into my lighter uniform I told him what had been happening and how my father had resolved it.

He listened in silence until I had finished and then said, quite simply, "Your father seems to be a man of principle. He and my own father would get along."

"You think so? That's interesting. But you are right, my father is a man of principle. Are you a Christian?"

He shook his head. "No. We've had priests working in our lands for some years now. They are harmless enough, and they have won some followers here and there, but not many, not in our lands, at least. Some of the other kings encourage them, though. One bishop in the West, a man called Patrick, is building a great following. There are wondrous tales about him. I think it will take more than tales, though, to make me give up the old ways."

"You mean you would rather play than pray?"

"I would rather fight."

I grinned at him. "Aye, I'm sure you would. Let's go and find some food. Have you thought about what you might like to do while you are here with us?"

"I have."

"And?" I waited.

"I'm half starved. Could we find the food first? I think I might find it easier to say what I have to say on a full stomach, and you yourself might not suffer in the listening, with a good foundation."

I was intrigued. I could see that whatever it was he had decided upon had not come to him easily, but there was no truculence or resentment in his demeanour, so I led him across to the refectory by the kitchens and watched in amazement as he wolfed down three times the amount of food I ate. The place was quiet for the time of day, with only a few junior officers near us and one knot of off-duty troopers at the far end of the big room. Eventually my prisoner consumed the last of his bread and cheese and pushed his empty platter away with a contented grunt.

"I can see now why you are so big," I said, smiling. "Is this part of a plan of yours? To eat us out of provenance and starve us into submission?" A few of the young officers turned in surprise at the sound of my Celtic words. I ignored them and continued to smile at my prisoner, who gazed back at me for several moments, searching my comment for hidden meanings before his own face creased in a half smile.

"It is in my mind that you and your people here would not submit to starvation."

"I will not argue with you on that. What else is in your mind?"

"It is in my mind, too, that I know Lot of Cornwall no better than I know you, having met the man only twice and briefly each time."

"And?"

"I believe that my people would have a more beneficial alliance with you, than with Lot."

"How so?"

He made to respond immediately but then paused and considered his words so that his face grew speculative before he said, "I am not sure. Something of honour, I think. You have honour and understand the need for it. The King of Cornwall deals little with it, from what I have learned."

"How can you know that, Donuil, if you don't know the man?"

He shrugged his huge shoulders. "How do I know if the sun is shining before I leave my hut in the morning? There are signs and sounds that announce it. There are signs that make it clear to me, also, that we of the Scotii would be better allied with your Colony."

"But our Colony needs no allies. Especially in another land beyond the sea."

"Perhaps not, Caius Merlyn, but ask yourself how great your need of enemies is, across the same sea?"

"A good point, Prince Donuil!" I nodded in agreement. "If our enemies have allies across the sea, then we have enemies across the sea and should bestir ourselves to seek alliance there with others who could keep those enemies at home." He nodded, and I went on, "But that becomes complicated, even in the telling, and we have already solved the problem. Your presence here has cut the string from Lot's alliance. Your people are no threat to us, for now."

"Not for five years, at least, you mean."

"Not for five years, at least."

"And after that? What do you think will happen when my time with you is up?"

It was my turn to shrug. "Who knows? Much can happen in five years. The worst that could happen is that your people could war against us again. But by that time we would have made our preparations to receive them. It would not be pleasant, but we would be forearmed and ready for them." I looked directly at him and his eyes were wide and frank, looking straight into my own. "But we are not here to discuss a war that may or may not happen in five years. We are here to discuss your thoughts on how you might profitably spend those five years, with an eye to your own good and comfort, and a non-traitorous benefit to the community that will be your host during that time."

He smiled. "Nicely phrased, Caius Merlyn."

"Well," I smiled back since he had caught my intention so clearly. "What have you decided? It's taking you a long while to come to your point."

"Aye, I suppose it is, from your viewpoint. From my own, however, I can't see the need for rushing brashly into any deep commitment. My father always taught me that nothing important should ever be put in danger by too quick an approach."

We were interrupted at this point by the approach of Titus who, tactful as ever, greeted me formally in front of my prisoner and made apologies for interrupting us. I stood up and waved away his apologies.

"What is it, Titus?"

"I thought you'd like to know immediately, Cay. We've just received word from the outposts that Uther and his men are on their way in. They should be here within the hour."

"Is Uther well?" My heart felt lightened within me, for ever since my father's admission of concern over Uther's continued absence, I had been worried like everyone else by misgivings about what might have happened to him.

"Apparently. He's riding at the head of his men."

"Thank you, Titus. That's good news. I'll be on hand to greet him at the gates. Tell my father."

Titus glanced at Donuil, saluted me formally again and left, and Donuil followed him with his eyes until he left the refectory. Titus and I had been speaking in Latin, so Donuil could have understood nothing of what was said.

"Who is he, that man? What does he do?"

"He is Titus, my father's adjutant."

"Adjutant? What's an adjutant?"

I had to think about that. What was an adjutant? "Assistant, I suppose, would be as good a word as any, although he serves as the administrator for my father, too, in many things, so he is far more than a mere assistant. He holds a position of unassailable trust."

"I see. Has he been with your father long?"

"Aye. More than twenty years. Why?"

He shook his head. "It was just in my mind that he seems a bit long in the tooth to be still a runner."

"A runner? What do you mean?"

"You know, a fetcher."

I felt my face freeze in disapproval. "I think you had better be careful what you imply, Prince Donuil. That man is the closest friend my father has. The position he holds within this fort and within the governing body of this Colony is second to no one save the General himself. There is nothing servile about Titus or his function, and there's not a man in the place, except yourself, who speak from ignorance, who does not hold him in the highest regard."

Before I had finished this retort, stung as I was by the slight I had interpreted from his remarks, he was holding both hands up, palms towards me, his teeth flashing in a wide grin. "Hold! Hold! I meant no offence! Easy, now!"

I bit my words off and tried to moderate my tone. "What did you mean, then?"

"Well now, Commander, I've been watching the adjutant, noting what he does, and trying to define his purpose here. I told you that I found one of your men who speaks my tongue. I asked him about the man's position last night, and all the information that I got was most informative. He is a man of many parts, your Titus. Many parts and many skills; many talents and much worth." He was smiling still, but there was no mockery. "But you'll admit, when all is said and done, that what he does, in everything he does, is serve your father, although you might prefer the word assist—no matter what your father's needs may be. Is that not so?"

"Aye. That is so. That's what he does. He serves my father, his General. Better than any other here."

"And he takes no ill by such service?"

"How should he?"

"I do not know, Caius Merlyn! Among my people, I think, it would be impossible to ever show that kind of servitude to another man without losing your independence."

I was still nettled. "You think we lack for pride?"

"No, no, not at all!" The lad was at pains not to give offence, as he had said. "There's simply a difference in the kind of pride, that's all. Among us, I think it can be a weakness, for we are too fierce in our pride. Each man among us fears to seem dependent on another. That is a weakness, because shared strength and shared responsibility, as they are practised here, breed solidarity. I can see that, even after only days in your company. But I never noticed it before, until I found myself here, observing you people.

"No," he went on, "you do not lack for pride. You carry it away beyond our ken. Your kind of pride extends to others, to the people around you, and you have no fear of being judged dependent. That has to be a strength." Donuil paused, then continued, "Your father is no longer young. When he is dead, will you command?"

"Aye. Here in the Colony, I will."

"And will Titus then become your adjutant?"

"If he is still alive, then I suppose he will. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity, that's all. You have no adjutant of your own?"

"No, I have no need of one." His tone was making me curious. "Anyway, we are off the track again. When Titus came in, you were just about to tell me what you would choose to do here in Camulod."

"Aye, I was. That's what I'd like to do." I blinked in incomprehension. "Him. The adjutant, Titus. That's what I'd like to do."

"You mean, be an adjutant?" I was bewildered.

"Aye," he nodded. "Your adjutant."

"My adjutant?" I could not have been more at a loss. "But.. .But.. .that's not possible!"

"How so?"

I was floundering. "Well...You know nothing! You know nothing of our ways. You have no training! You can't even ride. You don't speak the language. You're a hostage, for God's sake!"

"What has that to do with it? I am a hostage now, but I will not always be one. I am not suggesting I would start today. But I could start learning."

"How?" I was totally bemused, resisting the urge to laugh, knowing it would offend him.

"The same way I learned to walk and talk—by working at it! I can learn to speak your Latin tongue. I would learn to ride. And I would serve you honourably and with dignity!"

This last sobered me and I saw, in spite of the many objections that instantly came to mind, that the lad was serious. I began to feel uncomfortable, for I really had no wish to offend or insult him. I shook my head, and began to speak in a low voice, hoping that he would hear in my tone the honest regret with which I had to refuse him.

"Donuil," I said. "You are a prince of your people and you are here as a hostage for their behaviour. When I asked you to give thought to how you would choose to spend your time with us, it never even occurred to me that such a proposal would occur to you. Surely you must see the impossibility of it? In five years' time, you will go home, and in the course of time you will claim your kingdom. If, when that comes to pass, we can be friends, I'll be well pleased, but in the meantime, you are an enemy, by definition." I stopped and gave my head a shake. "I am honoured, boy, that you would even think of this, but..." I ran out of words.

He was staring straight at me. "May I speak?"

"Speak. Go ahead, but—-"

"And will you hear me out?"

I sighed. "I'll hear you out, but you're wasting your time if you think you can change my mind."

"What should I call you?"

"You mean in conversation? Call me Commander Merlyn. Everyone else does."

, "Commander Merlyn. Very well. Commander Merlyn. First, you should know that I am not a boy. I underwent the rites of manhood three years ago. I am a man, here and at home among my father's people." He paused and I waited, determined not to interrupt him again. "There is not the slightest chance that I will ever claim my kingdom, as you put it. It is not mine and never will be. I am the second youngest of eight sons. The highest rank I can ever hold at home is that of a small chieftain, and I would hold that rank only by the grace of my six elder brothers, four of whom have no use for me. It is my father's pride that will stand by me in my time as hostage here. If he should die before my time is up, my brothers will make nonsense of our pact with not a thought for me. This you should know, I thought about it in your cells on my first night here and the truth of it has shaped my thinking in this matter.

"I have one brother, Connor, whom I admire. You look like him, but Connor is a cripple. He lost the use of his legs when he was wounded fighting a bear single-handed. He will not be king, either. His goodness is great, but his physical disability is greater.

"It was in my mind that I could enjoy serving you— serving with you, as you put it yourself on that first day. I don't know how I could do it best, I only know I could." I moved as if to speak, but he forestalled me, raising a hand.

"This language thing: I could learn Latin fast enough, if I needed to. But it occurred to me you might find it truly worthwhile to have someone to talk to at times, one you could trust, without another knowing what you said." He paused again, frowning to himself. "It is in my mind that being an adjutant is much like being a trusted friend. Trusted and valued. I would find no disgrace in earning your trust and value, and it seems to me that you should find no disgrace in my suggesting that it would be to your benefit, too.

"If there is one thing that my father taught me well, Commander Merlyn, it is the evaluation of men. I look at you and see the way you deal with men, from your father to your servants and your soldiers. You have their respect, and you do not fear to show yours for them. More important, though, you have their liking, their admiration, because of what you are, ahead of who you are. Those two, respect and liking, do not always go together. I know that everyone here, yourself included, sees me as a barbarous pirate. Well, barbarous I may be, according to your values, but I am no pirate and I am not stupid. I know my own worth. And I know what it could be worth to you, Caius Merlyn Britannicus."

By this time, I was listening in amazement, hearing far more intellect and maturity than I would have expected in this young man, who continued to speak, presenting his thoughts in flawless order. "Right now, I don't know how to ride, but I can learn to take care of your horses and their trappings, and in learning that, I'll teach myself to ride. I don't know your weapons, but I would make it my business to take care of yours, to clean them and maintain them, and in the cleaning and maintenance of them, I'd learn the handling and the use of them. The same goes for your armour and your clothes. As soon as I've learned to speak your Latin tongue, I'll be your personal messenger." He smiled here. "In the meantime, I'll act as your bodyguard. I have the size and strength for that, at least.

"I have five years to spend here, Commander. If, in that five years, I cannot perform the tasks you find for me, I'll step aside. If, on the other hand, you find me suitable and we work well together, I'll stay here with you, of my own free will, having earned the right to make my home right here in Camulod. That is all I have to say."

I had been sitting with my head down for several minutes, squeezing the ridges of my eyebrows between thumb and middle finger to mask my expression from his gaze. Now I held my position and let the silence stretch as I strove to accommodate the outrageous thoughts that were going through my mind. At length I sighed and looked up to find his wide eyes fixed on me in an unblinking stare. I shook my head slightly, still bemused at my thoughts. Everything in me was urging me to take him at his word.

"What am I to say? You honour me, Donuil. Of that I have no doubt. And you have met my reservations and dealt with each of them in a way that makes them seem petty. I must admit, the idea no longer seems as outlandish as it did at first. As you say, you have five years. The suggestion has much to recommend it, but what do you have to gain from such a bargain?"

He grinned. "A place in Camulod, your Colony. The right to ride with you and follow your ways. I would have no complaints."

I shook my head again. "My father would have an apoplexy."

"Why?" Again he grinned, his teeth flashing. "He stands to gain great strength, too. A loyal Scot in his household."

It was my turn to grin. "He'd rather have a hundred in his cells. But I will think about it. Quite honestly, the idea intrigues me, and the more I think about it, the more it appeals to me. I'll sleep on it and let you know what I decide tomorrow."

"Very well, Commander. I can wait."

"I'm pleased to hear that. In the meantime, my cousin Uther is expected any minute. That is what the Legate Titus came to tell me. He has been having dealings with your former ally, the self-styled King of Cornwall. It will be interesting to hear what he has to report. Come with me to the gates to watch them enter. Uther is always worth watching."

He rose to his feet, towering above me. "Uther Pendragon. I'm looking forward to seeing him. I've heard much about him."

"In Hibernia?"

"Where? Oh, you mean in Eire. Hibernia? That's an ugly name. Aye, but that's where I heard of Upstart Uther and Cowardly Cay. That's what Lot's people call the two of you."

I felt a flush of anger. "Some day, if I ever meet him, I shall be sure to take issue with him on that."