Farewell, and may the gods of war smile upon your army.
Ambrose
I sat motionless after the first reading of that long, astonishing missive, allowing its tone and tidings to settle themselves within my mind at their own speed and making no attempt to analyse what Ambrose had actually said therein. I knew that anything else, any reaction I permitted myself at that time, would be ill considered. I wished to reread the letter several times and then think the entire situation through in detail before I spoke of it to anyone else. And then, knowing how my own mind works, I turned to Dedalus's dispatch, trusting myself to work on Ambrose's information while I digested Ded's.
I opened the cylinder and broke the plain seal on the document. As I might have expected, Ded wasted no time on salutations or frippery but came straight to the point.
Cay:
Young Paul Sulla arrived today, on his way to find you and deliver dispatches from Ambrose, so I am sending this with him. He is preparing to leave now, so I have little time. I have no idea what Ambrose might have said to you in his dispatches, but from the few hints I have squeezed out of young Sulla, I gather he will not be back as soon as he had thought, and also that there is more going on up in Northumbria than we might have suspected. At least Vortigern is still alive, and Sulla said nothing of war.
This now in relation to your arrangements for the build up of new, allied forces outside Camulod: the expedition we had planned, one hundred strong, went out to Nero Niger Appius and Corinium within the first week after you left, and it has met with great success. Corinium is now alive again, with people living behind its walls and the beginnings of a garrison undergoing training with our men. Early reports seem confident, although I continue to have doubts about making soldiers out of farmers and peasants. Those doubts are my own, however, and I am prepared to be convinced of my error.
Two similar expeditions have gone out since then, one of them to the next town north of Corinium. It had no name, or if it ever did it has been long forgotten. Our people are now calling it Secunda. The third expedition went to Tertia—as you might expect—another nameless old marching camp fortification to the south of us, some twenty miles west of Lindinis. That was unexpected, but a delegation arrived here one day, prompted by the success of the Corinium plan. Someone from the Tertia region had been up there and spoken with Nero Niger, and had returned home filled with enthusiasm. Apparently Tertia is good farm country and well populated. I took the matter to Council, and they approved, so Tertia was launched, and I am told that in the space of less than two months they have progressed as far as the Corinium people have in four.
Now there are two more expeditions being prepared, both of them bound for similar places with no name, but with the remnants of old Roman walls in place and fertile fields nearby.
Your plan for this region is working, my friend, no matter what frustrations you are facing where you ate. I thought you might be glad to know that.
Everything here is as it should be, though I do not enjoy working with the Council—too much discussion, too little decision. The garrison matters proceed smoothly, nonetheless, and that I do enjoy. I see your Lady Tressa frequently, usually with your brother's wife Ludmilla. It is clear they have become good friends, so disabuse yourself of any thought that she is languishing without you. In truth, she seems so much at home here now in Camulod, no one would ever think she is but a new arrival. I know that, too, will please you. I would have asked her if she had words for me to send to you with this, had that been possible, but Sulla is anxious to be on his way and is fretting as he waits even for this from me.
Get rid of Ironhair and Carthac quickly, but do it thoroughly.
Decapitation is thorough.
Dedalus
Decapitation! I grinned to myself, shaking my head as I released Ded's letter and allowed it to roll up on itself.
The news was good concerning the outlying settlements, and I was grateful, and a little surprised, that he had thought to send it. His reservations on the quality of the garrisons we were building in those new settlements were no surprise to me, though. Ded was a professional soldier, and he simply could not believe that any other kind of man could be successful in soldiery. The best tidings, however, were those concerning Tress and Ludmilla. The mere mention of Tressa's name had filled me with warmth and homesickness, and now I allowed myself to think of her for long moments, recalling the smell and the taste of her, the laughter in her eyes and the sound of her voice, admitting to myself that I missed her sorely. Then, aware that I was being self indulgent, I replaced Ded's letter in its cylinder and took up Ambrose's lengthy dispatch again.
I had barely finished reading it for the second time when I heard Donuil's voice speaking my name. He pulled back the flap of my tent and entered, followed closely by Derek. Donuil had a strange look on his face, and I was suddenly aware of a hubbub of raised voices outside. "What's wrong?"
Donuil shook his head in a tiny gesture of perplexity. "I'm not sure. Connor sailed east—d'you expect him to come back that way?"
"Aye, or directly from the south. What are you talking about?"
"Well, either he's coming back from the west, or there's another big bireme coming to visit us."
"Coming from the west? Show me."
I forced myself to move slowly and deliberately, rolling my brother's letter up carefully and slipping it back into its wallet. That done, I moved to the entrance, holding the flap open for Donuil to pass in front of me. There was no need to go any further; the great, dark, solitary shape approaching rapidly in the offshore waters was unmistakable.
"Well, that's not Connor," I said softly, after my first glance. "So whoever it might be, he's from Ironhair, and he's not passing by. I doubt he'd be foolhardy enough to attempt an attack of any kind from there, and he has no other vessels with him, so we must presume we have a visitor wishing to speak with us."
Donuil stood close by, watching me as I spoke, and I was conscious that his were not the only eyes on me.
"Let's show them some discipline, Donuil. Assemble our people on the beach in full battle order. I'd estimate we may have half an hour before they reach us—that is, if they don't sheer off and resume their journey. Pass word to the senior commanders to change to full parade armour immediately, if you please, and send my orderly here at once, to help me with my own preparations. We have no time to waste."
EIGHT
Donuil returned to my tent just as I was removing my heavy war cape, having decided that it was too hot and that I had put it on too soon. He, too, had changed into parade gear and carried his ornately crested helmet in the crook of his left arm, and I looked him up and down approvingly.
"They're here, Merlyn," he announced quietly. "Lying in deep water, no more than fifty or sixty paces from the beach. But they've made no move to hail us. How do you want to proceed?"
"Have they given any sign of their intent?"
"No, but it's not hostile. They drifted into place, barely moving through the water, and there's no sign of bared weapons anywhere that I could see."
"They haven't lowered a boat?'
"No, nothing. They've done nothing. There's a group of what must be officers—"
"Armies have officers, Donuil, and a formal structure. These men may be leaders, but they are not officers."
"Aye, well, there's a group of them at the bow of the ship, just staring down at us."
"And are we staring back?"
He blinked at me. "I suppose so. We're facing them. There's nothing else to look at. "
"You're wrong there, Donuil. There are a hundred other things out there, all of them better to look at than these people. "