I was glad to hear of the victory, but I was afire to find out about Ironhair and Cardiac, and Connor's news on that topic stunned me. Neither man had been aboard the bireme. The man who had captained the ship was captured and he told Connor that Ironhair had not been with the fleet, nor had he been with the armies in Cambria. He was not even in Cornwall and had not, in fact, been seen by anyone in more than two whole months. He was away, the man said, with Carthac, replenishing his armies.
Upon learning that, Connor had set out to find me immediately, first sailing north to where Huw's forces penned the hapless enemy upon their narrow strip of beach, then heading swiftly south and east to intercept me at Caerdyff. Too late to find me there, he had struck southward again, to find his brother Brander's fleet anchored at the point closest to Camulod. From there, he came inland, arriving at the Colony ahead of us.
Connor's revelation about Ironhair came as momentous and unwelcome news to me, for since the outset of his tale I had been convinced that the ending would involve the capture or death of my enemy. To learn that he was still alive and still a threat appalled me and left me speechless. I was conscious of the pressure of Tressa's fingers around my own and knew that she was squeezing my hand tightly, but whether in sympathy or in distress I could not tell. Ambrose and Connor both sat silent, watching me until I was ready to speak again, and Ambrose was frowning slightly, evidently perplexed.
"So," I said at last, "he's still alive and still plotting. That is simply wonderful—exactly what I had hoped and needed to hear. Damnation take the man!"
Now Ambrose leaned towards me, his frown deeper than before. "Brother, I don't like this, but I have to speak and to ask you something now, so please understand that my question comes from simple ignorance and curiosity. Why are you so violently concerned about this man? Your reaction seems... disproportionate, somehow. I know that you and he are enemies. I also know that he has successfully attempted to suborn some of your people in the past. You threw him out of Camulod, but he has never sought to return here—not really. Why does the mere mention of his name incense you so?
"Peter Ironhair has never been a direct threat to Camulod. He has never moved overtly to attack us. Certainly, he has invaded Cambria, but that was in support of Carthac Pendragon, who has, however ludicrous it might be, a blood claim to the leadership he seeks. Ironhair's support of his cause may indeed be specious. Nonetheless, Brother, what he does in Cambria should not concern you as greatly as it does, here in Camulod. If and when he ever does move against Camulod, then you will be justified in seeking his death. Until then, I must say I believe you are overreacting, and you are wrong to feel and behave as you do."
I sat staring at my brother as he spoke, making no effort to mask my astonishment and, I must admit, my displeasure. It was the first time he had ever voiced any doubts about my motivation or my beliefs. Hearing him speak so plainly in disagreement with me made my face flush, and I had to bite back the bitter words that sprang to my tongue. I forced myself to sit still and absorb what Ambrose had said, thinking it through objectively, to the best of my ability, and attempting to see my behaviour through his eyes. But that was impossible: my anger flared, overriding coherent thought. Ambrose knew he had infuriated me, but he was his own man, and he spoke his own beliefs openly and without fear.
The silence stretched and grew. Connor sat as though carved from wood; Tress, I knew, was gazing down into her lap. Finally, when I felt sure I had mastered my voice and the tone of it, I replied.
"Very well, let me see if I can satisfy your curiosity. Are you familiar with the old saying, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"' He nodded. "And do you agree with the sentiment?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I do. "
"Good. What about the corollary: "The enemy of my friend is my enemy. ' Would you agree with that?" I held up my hand, palm outwards. "Don't answer, because it's not important right now. What is important is that / believe it. You and I have not talked about what happened in the final stages of the campaign in Cambria, but the turning point came when Huw Strongarm took up the leadership of all Pendragon. Huw has no ambition for himself—had he any, he would long since have declared himself a contender for the kingship. He is now War Chief of Pendragon, and he has sworn to uphold the honour and freedom of Pendragon in Cambria, maintaining it in trust for the man he believes to be his true king, the son of the king he followed all his life, Uther Pendragon. So Huw rules now, or will rule soon, in Cambria, as regent for Arthur, just as surely as Flavius Stilicho ruled in Rome as regent of the young Emperor Honorius. "
Ambrose grunted. "Let's hope he fares better than Stilicho did."
I saw nothing amusing in that. "Think you that's unlikely?"
Ambrose was already waving me down, shaking his head. "No, of course not. It was a poor and ill considered jest. Please continue. I knew nothing of Huw Strongarm's change of status. You really believe he will support Arthur's claim?"
"Completely. It is already in hand. I brought Huw's most trusted captain back with me, a man called Llewellyn, an ironsmith and a warrior. He will take Arthur back with him to Cambria, incognito, to live among his own people few a year or so, to learn their ways and live their life among them. I had been excited for the lad, imagining how well he would adapt to new ways without either you or me around to influence him. Now, however, hearing that Ironhair is out there, replenishing his armies, fills me with new concerns. Should he invade again, young Arthur will be there without our support."
Ambrose sucked air sharply through his teeth. "Should he invade again, with Arthur there and under these new circumstances, then he will indeed be contravening our peace and threatening our nephew—"
"And mine!" This from Connor.
"Aye, Connor, and yours," Ambrose continued. "That would change everything, and my concerns are already laid to rest, Cay. I did not know you had made these plans."
I nodded, mollified, but spoke on. "Thank you for that, but hear the rest of it. I have had dealings with Peter Ironhair. You have not. I know the man, and, to tell the truth, I could have liked him, had things been other than they were. He has much to like about him—a good mind, great strengths and a subtle turn of wit—and he is often generous to his close friends and allies, who value his friendship highly. People follow him instinctively, because he has the attributes of leadership, But he also has much in him to detest. There is something wrong with the man, inside him, and it's not mere ambition. I could live with that. Ironhair has shown himself, to me at least, to be fundamentally treacherous and venal, a venomous creature who will do anything to achieve his own ends. He deals in perfidy and in subornment, seducing friends to vileness and murder. In my mind, he is a serpent. I would kill him with as little thought as I would kill an adder, and feel better for the deed being done, because there would be one less threat in the world for innocent people. I detest him. But more than anything else, I distrust and fear him—not the man himself, but his capacity for evil. I would prefer to know him safely dead. "
"Hmm. " Ambrose winkled his nose, then nodded. "I think I begin to understand, now. "
"No, Ambrose, you do not—not really, not yet. You never knew Hector's wife, Julia. She was Bedwyr's mother, and a gentle, lovely woman who never caused a moment's pain to anyone. Ironhair caused her death, directly, when he sent hirelings sneaking into Camulod to murder young Arthur. For that alone, I swore that he would one day the by my hand. Before that day, this Colony of ours had been like Eden. Ironhair destroyed that innocence and drove us out of Camulod into the world, in fear and distrust."