The other officers, some forty of them, had surrounded us by now, and stood listening to what we were saying. The big Pendragon captain shrugged, clearly having nothing more to add, and I changed topic.
"How long would it take you to arrange for me to meet with Uderic, Huw?" I ignored the sudden buzz that greeted my mention of the name of the mercurial man who had sprung up to replace the fallen Dergyll ap Griffyd as leader of the Pendragon Celts. I held up my hand to still the noise as Huw considered my surprising question.
"Uderic?' He shook his grizzled head. "Who knows? It might take me a month to find out where he is. He has no trust in me, nor I in him. Once I find him, though, if I can hold him down for long enough to listen to what I have to say, it should be an easy matter to arrange a meeting between you. Why would you want to speak with Uderic?'
"Because I should have spoken with him months ago. He refused to meet me then, for reasons of his own. But we have amassed victories lately, and those have worked to his advantage. He and I have need of each other, despite his reluctance to share anything with me. He is the closest thing Pendragon has right now to a king and supreme leader. He also seems to be the only man in Cambria who can move swiftly and decisively to counteract Ironhair's manoeuvres and convince others to move with him. " I saw the protest forming in Huw's eyes and spoke quickly to forestall him. "I know that is not strictly true, and there are others who have arguably stronger rights to the kingship. I also know that some of those are able leaders, too. But there's no denying that Uderic is the most dynamic leader among them, or that he has the loyalty of his own men, and of some of those who follow others, too. He's the only one of the Pendragon chiefs I have not yet met, and I think the time to rectify that is now. Will you find him for me?"
"Aye, but he mislikes you even more than he mistrusts me." Huw looked uncomfortable, speaking the words.
"No, Huw, he thinks he mislikes me, but he has never met me. He may mislike the thought of me, and he may mistrust me—that I can understand, since I believe he sees in me some threat to his ambitions. He is insecure in his new kingship, having seized it by conquest, and he knows me as kin to Uther. But I hope that he will be clever enough see the advantages of having me—having all of us here— as allies. Uderic has a war to fight and win, and so have we, for reasons of our own. Acting together we could win it quickly, saving thousands of lives."
"The big one is heading this way!" This shout from the beach caused a general turning towards the sea. I eased my way among my men to where I could see what was happening, Derek and Donuil flanking me on either side. Sure enough, the massive bireme had come much closer to us and would soon draw level with our position, perhaps less than half a mile out to sea. Its lesser, consort galleys, of which I counted ten at first glance, were sweeping closer to shore, spying on us, yet keeping just beyond Pendragon bow range.
"They won't come closer, but they're curious." I turned to Donuil. "Show them our standards, Donuil. Have our trumpeters sound out a challenge for them. And post a squad of bowmen on the rocks above, in hopes that some of them may row too close." As he left to carry out my orders, I turned back to Huw, who had come to stand behind me. "So, Huw, how many men will you take with you and how long will you require to make ready? I'd like to see you on your way today."
"Then you will. I'll take my own half hundred with me. I'll feel safe with my own Pendragon bowmen against any number of heathen Outlanders. With the goodwill of the gods, I'll find Uderic within the week, unless he's dead and in the ground, and I'll be back within three days of that. Where should I arrange for you to meet with him?!'
"I've no idea, " I told him honestly. "You pick the place, as close as possible to half way between where we are now and where you find Uderic. But be sure to leave yourself sufficient time to get back here and lead me to the meeting place before the appointed time. "
He nodded, grinning. "Should I go now? I'm ready. "
"Then do so, and accept my thanks. "
He spun on his heel and walked away, and as I watched him go I heard another shout from the beach. 'Tell Commander Merlyn one of them's coming in!" I was moving again before the word was relayed. As I stepped clear of the throng, on to the bare strand above the beach, I saw Donuil come galloping towards me along the hard sand at the water's edge.
"That's Feargus, Merlyn!" he shouted.
Sure enough, I recognized the racing galley instantly by the red of its sail. My jaw dropped as I looked again to where the massive bireme ploughed ahead of its escorts.
"Connor Mac Athol!" I roared into the sudden stillness. "You crazed, intemperate, one legged madman!"
Feargus's galley heeled hard over and came scything towards the beach, its oars scattering water and flashing wet in the sunlight. I made my way straight down the sand to the water's edge, holding my arms widespread in welcome and restraining myself with difficulty from breaking into a headlong run. Donuil, I knew, had jumped down from his horse and was close behind me, as would be the others. The galley sped straight towards me until, at the last possible moment, the oarsmen shipped their oars in unison and the long, sleek craft glided forward unaided, its speed dwindling rapidly, to grate to a halt on the shallow, sandy bottom less than a score of paces from where I stood. The tiny man who captained this graceful craft leaped to the prow and hailed me.
"Merlyn of Camulod! The Admiral of King Brander's seas sends greetings! Would you care to step aboard his bireme?"
"Gladly," I roared. "But I cannot walk on water, nor can I swim in armour." Even as I shouted, however, I saw the tiny boat being pushed away to fetch me and I turned to Donuil. "Your brother never fails to amaze me. The last time we spoke, he told me he intended to steal one of Ironhair's biremes. I should have been expecting this! Come with me." I looked beyond his shoulder to where Derek, Benedict and Rufio stood grinning. "We'll be gone but a short time. My apologies to the others for the interrupted meeting, but this development may change everything. Connor Mac Athol may have won our war for us!"
Connor made us royally welcome aboard his magnificent new ship, and as soon as the amenities of greetings and exchange of family trivia had been concluded, he told us the tale of how he had procured it, slipping unnoticed with more than a hundred men into the armed camp that served as its major harbour on the northern coast of Cornwall.
His plan had succeeded without a setback. He and his men and ships were welcomed by the Cornishmen, accepted unquestioningly as mercenaries no different from the hundreds of others who came and went constantly, and Connor had bided his time, establishing himself and his followers, over the course of six days, as belonging. Then, on the seventh day, the bireme had arrived and the booty captured in the previous month's raids in Cambria had been unloaded and dispatched in wagons to wherever Ironhair stored such things. Connor had discovered that new levies would be boarded the following day for transportation into Cambria, and thus had been presented with two alternative courses: loading his own men aboard the following day, then capturing the vessel once at sea, or taking the initiative immediately and capturing the ship that very night. He had chosen the latter, because the cargo holds his men would occupy in travelling were deep, and they might not be able to leave them before the end of the voyage. He had heard tales aplenty of mercenaries confined in the holds beneath locked hatches throughout entire voyages, especially in foul weather. Furthermore, at sea the ship would have its own armed defenders.
Connor had issued his commands, and his men had boarded the bireme in the dead of night, easily overcoming the few guards posted in the ship's home port. Once aboard, the remainder had been simple, and the bireme had quietly slipped from its moorings, under new command, with no one noticing.