“Sir Cador!” Arthur said admonishingly. “This is an open Council. Every man here must feel that he can speak his mind. Only that way may we clear up any misunderstandings.”
“It may be a misunderstanding, King Arthur,” Malconi said. “I, for one, hope it is. But may I propose another possibility?”
“Please do.”
“It is well known that Saxon migration continues into Britain despite your great victories. Is it possible that Saxon forces have set up covert bases along your shore? Perhaps in hidden coves, on isolated islets?”
Arthur pondered this, as did his knights. It was entirely possible that Saxon pirates were operating illicitly from the British coast. The Saxons were an unruly and difficult people, and more and more of them were arriving in Britain.
“This is something we will look into,” Arthur said.
“Might I volunteer some assistance?” Malconi replied.
“‘Assistance,’ your grace?” Bedivere asked.
“Britain is a large and trackless country,” Malconi explained. “It must be difficult deploying your forces in times of crisis.”
“We already have forces on our east coast,” Bedivere replied. “A number of lords, some seated in this hall, hold authority there. Each of our five major ports has its own reeve.”
“No doubt. But what of your naval forces in that region? It seems to me that pirates can only really be countered at sea.”
“And let me guess,” Lancelot said. “The Romans would loan us ships?”
“We would loan you an entire fleet,” Malconi said magnanimously. “Not only that… expert crews and captains, with vast knowledge and experience.”
“And these captains and crews would need ports, presumably?” Lancelot said. “Roman ports… on British soil.”
“That would seem reasonable,” Malconi replied.
“Not to us,” Arthur said.
“King Arthur, the Saxon incursions into our dominion are becoming intolerable.”
“Then fight the Saxons!” Cador said. “If your captains are so experienced, have them navigate along the Rhine, plunder the Saxon towns, burn their woodland groves. Have your Emperor send his legions across the Odenwald again… if they dare.”
Arthur held up hands for peace. “Gentlemen…”
“King Arthur, we do send patrols north into the German Sea,” Malconi replied. “But beyond a certain point, our military vessels are blind. We have few accurate charts of that region. We have no real friends. If our ships suffered damage, which ports could they put into?”
“Why not British ports?” Bishop Proclates said, as if the idea had just occurred to him.
Malconi looked interested by this. “How speak you, your grace?”
Proclates took the floor. “King Arthur, how if we were to make a bargain whereby Roman craft may be moored and repaired in British ports?”
Malconi nodded. “Emperor Lucius would pay a commensurate sum…”
“A nice plan,” Kay interjected. “Except that it would arouse the ire of our Saxon subjects.”
Malconi frowned. “But King Arthur said the Saxons in Britain are subservient?”
Arthur smiled. “Bishop Malconi, our northern frontier is the most difficult to manage. Beyond it to the northwest lies the warlike kingdom of Rheged, while to the northeast lie even more antagonistic foes — the Picts. The thought of Roman triremes falling into those hands is intolerable. However, the request in itself is not unreasonable.” He turned to his own benches. “How speaks the North?”
It was several seconds before Lucan realised that every eye was upon him. “My liege?”
“Earl Lucan, should we avail our northeast ports to Roman military shipping?”
Felix Rufio had paid scant attention up to now, wondering if, as Trelawna had assured him in the note she’d secretly delivered to his quarters the night before, she would be somewhere in the vicinity. She might even be outside this room. It set his heart pounding. After so many years abstaining — not from sexual congress, obviously, but from meaningful sexual congress — she was still the only woman he thought about.
Now, however, his interest in the debate was ignited.
Directly across the chamber, Earl Lucan rose to his feet. Finally Rufio was face to face with his arch-rival, and at first glance was surprised to see, not a barbarian as he’d expected, but a handsomely groomed man. Lucan was tall and well-shaped for battle, and perhaps a little pale of complexion, but he was square-jawed and clean-shaved, with a mop of thick, black hair brushed neatly. He wore a crimson surcoat with a black wolf design on the front. If memory served, Trelawna had once said that her husband was referred to as ‘the Black Wolf of the North.’ Rufio regarded Lucan with instant dislike. He already felt slighted by the fellow’s presence, and at the same time not a little amused. That a man should owe his fearsome nickname to the emblem he wore was unimpressive.
“Sire, are you mad?” Lucan said, having risen slowly to his feet. He turned to his fellow Knights of the Round Table. “Are the rest of you mad? What if these Roman dogs plan to arm the Picts? Maybe supply them with skilled troops?”
Immediately one of the Roman ambassadors, a young officer who had been introduced earlier as Tribune Rufio, leapt from his bench. “That is a despicable slur!” he cried. “Our mission is entirely peaceful!”
“Perhaps,” Lucan replied coolly. “But for how long?”
Others of the Roman party expressed similar outrage. One who did not, Arthur noticed, was Tribune Maximion, another military man attached to the embassy and — according to Arthur’s spies — an older, wiser head than Rufio.
Now, however, Maximion stood as well. “Earl Lucan,” he said. “Your words are very disrespectful. Is there some reason why you mistrust New Rome?”
Lucan shrugged. “No more than you would mistrust us were we to contrive an excuse to send our warships along the African coast, where certain Moorish emirs are resisting your rule.”
The Roman ambassadors exchanged glances; there was no easy riposte to such a fair point. Maximion took his seat again — which Arthur found interesting. Had the elderly tribune posed his question to offer his hosts a small moral victory?
“Gentlemen,” the King said. “As you see, the issue of our northern ports is not a simple one. However, I am not averse to offering assistance should a Roman vessel be found in distress. I shall discuss this matter further, but privately with my advisors.”
Malconi nodded obsequiously. Tribune Rufio sat down again, but with poor grace.
“The next matter for today?” Arthur asked.
“The rather grave matter of Brittany,” Bishop Proclates replied. “Your friend on the Continent, King Arthur.”
“I’m perfectly aware who my friends are, your grace.”
“King Hoel regards himself as your military ally?” Consul Rascalon said.
“And?”
“Like the Saxons, he is proving a difficult neighbour.”
“Perhaps if your armies weren’t gathering beyond his border, he’d be more affable?” Lancelot suggested.
“Let’s cut to the chase, my lords,” Bedivere said. “New Rome intends to invade Brittany, does it not?”
“Criminal acts must be punished,” Bishop Proclates replied.
“What criminal acts would these be?” Cador wondered.
Again, Bishop Malconi rose to his feet. “King Arthur, it gives me no pleasure to report that Brittany’s spies stir revolt in our lands.”
“Have you evidence of this?” Bedivere asked.
“I’m sure it can be provided,” Malconi said.
“I’m sure as well,” Arthur said. “But what you really want to know, your grace, is what action Camelot will take if you do invade Brittany. Am I correct?”
Malconi wove his fingers together. “As things are, my lord, Brittany is an anachronistic presence on the Gallic mainland. But we have no aggressive intentions towards her. On the contrary, we seek to help… to modernise.”
“By breaking her borders?” Bedivere asked.
“We must consider all options.”