Connor spoke up, changing the topic. "You said he was replenishing his armies. How can he do that? I know he uses mercenaries, but where does his gold come from? He has to pay them. That's what mercenaries are—a walking demand for payment that you ignore at your peril. "
"No, Connor. He needs no gold. " My companions looked to me for an explanation. "I've discussed this several times with Huw and Llewellyn. Ironhair's mercenaries are not from Britain. Most of them are Burgundians, from Gaul, and some are Franks. The Burgundians were causing problems for the Romans long before the legions left Gaul, and the entire land across the Narrow Sea is being fought over from north to south. There are far more people over there than are to be found in all of Britain, and they are living in anarchy. There are thousands of landless men, bandits and brigands. Those are Ironhair's conscripts. He offers them the plunder they can find in Britain, and he offers diem a home and food and drink and women. So they flock to fight for him, because they're fighting for themselves. It makes them fierce and bitter foes of everyone they meet over here. The only problem he will have with them is in controlling them—and since he simply turns them loose to save his purposes, with no concern over what they do otherwise, that is no problem at all. "
In the pause that followed someone knocked at the door, which we had locked on entering the room. I glanced at Ambrose, who shrugged in annoyance and shouted, asking who was there. I recognized Arthur's muffled voice at once, and I released Tressa's hand and strode to the double doors. I swung the door quickly open, my face breaking into a grin that changed immediately into wide eyed shock as I set eyes on my ward. He stood directly outside, eye to eye with me, taller than I would ever have imagined he could have become in the short space of months since I had last seen him. He had left me as a boy, approaching manhood. Now, in height at least, he was a man.
I stepped back quickly, gazing at him, aware of the young woman who stood close behind him but ignoring her as my eyes devoured Arthur Pendragon and the changes I could see in him. He hesitated on the threshold, grinning shyly at me and nodding tentatively to Ambrose, Connor and Tressa in apology for his intrusion. A mere flick of the eyes was all he gave to them, however, and thereafter his eyes remained on me.
"Merlyn," he said, his voice uncertain. "Welcome home. I wanted to be here when you arrived, and I can hardly believe I was not. We did not expect you until tomorrow."
I stepped towards him again, spreading my arms, and he came into my embrace, clutching me fiercely. I crushed him in a hug, then pushed him away to arm's length, gazing into his face.
"You've grown up. I knew you would have, but these three here did not tell me how much." He smiled, but before he could respond I stepped aside, stretching out my hand to young Morag, who stood shyly behind him. "Come in, come in. Morag, it pleases me to see you again. Was your hunting successful? I know you know Ambrose and Tress, but have you met Arthur's Uncle Connor?" She nodded, smiling at Connor, and then moved to stand beside Arthur again, tipping her head demurely to Ambrose and Tressa. Arthur spoke for her.
"We killed a stag, a good one, but it was I who had to shoot it. Morag decided at the last she did not want to do it." As I looked at him from beneath raised brows, he shrugged. "I would have let it go, then, but Shelagh had spent the entire morning stalking it. I did not want to seem... ungrateful."
I nodded, smiting still. "You made the right decision. So, you are obviously well—"
"Aye, well enough. But you must forgive us. I had no thought to interrupt your gathering; I merely wanted to see you and welcome you safely home."
"I'm glad you did, so don't concern yourself with that. Have you just returned?"
"Aye, can you not smell the sweat on me? I came straight here without unsaddling."
"Then shame! I taught you better than that. Go back, then, and take care of your mounts. By the time you've finished that, we'll be done here and you may join us."
I stood by the door, holding it ajar as I watched them walk away. The lad was broad, as well as tall, his shoulders wide and clean, his back tapering to a narrow waist and hips above long, well muscled legs. He was dressed all in greens, in a dark, quilted tunic that was belted at his waist and emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and pale green leggings tucked into high boots of soft looking, supple leather. His dark brown hair fell to his shoulders, and as he walked through the shadows outside, the yellow streaks that shot through it seemed to be almost white. When they had gone a score of paces, he reached out his arm and placed it about young Morag's waist, directing my attention to the shape of her and the fact that she, too, had left childhood behind. I was conscious of Ambrose standing close behind me, looking over my shoulder.
"Well," he asked. "What do you think? There's no mistaking that he's one of us, is there?"
"No," I concurred. "Neither in the size of him nor in his eye for a pretty woman. Has he... I mean, are they... 7'
"Bedding each other? Not unless they're doing it by magic. That young woman is more closely guarded than your favourite sword. King Brander takes his duties very seriously in that regard, as in all others. The two are in each other's company constantly, but they are never alone for long enough to fall into mischief. When Shelagh's not there, they're with Brander himself, or with Salina, or me, or Tress. They have no time for mischief. Not of the dallying kind."
Connor had said nothing since Arthur arrived, and now he sat smiling to himself, as though he knew a secret. I caught his eye.
"What are you grinning at, Connor?"
"Nothing, nothing at all!" His face mirrored utter innocence. "I'm merely impressed by Camulod's security, for I know that were I my nephew there, and we at home in our isles, there would be no power on earth or in the heavens to keep me from between my true love's legs."
Tress answered even before I could begin to frame a response to that. "Ha, Connor Mac Athol, but you are a bull at stud, we all know that. No woman could ever resist you— isn't that what you tell yourself? But here is a love story between a sweet young man and a lovely girl who is visiting and is begirt by guardians. Mind you, some day I'll have to hear your wife's opinion on your abilities in that arena."
"Ah, you've a bitter tongue on you for one so young and beautiful," Connor shot back with a deep sigh.
I looked back to Ambrose. "I would never have believed he'd grow so big so quickly. He has become enormous! How was he on your journey? Were you pleased with him?"
"Aye, as pleased as I could have been, and even more than I thought to be. I had expected him to take some time adjusting to being in my charge after having spent so long in yours, but there was no sign of anything of the kind. From the outset, from the moment we rode out, he was a willing student, absorbing all I could throw at him and adapting to my ways and wishes instantly. I kept him hard at work, too, most of the time, but there were times we talked, exchanging values and ideas and coming to know each other. He is a fine and admirable young man, and even my troopers quickly came to hold him in esteem.
"On our homeward journey, once we were clear of any threat from Horsa's holdings, I sent him out patrolling with the Scouts, as an observer on the first few occasions and under the watchful eyes of my own commanders. But I had such good reports of him that finally I sent him out at the head of one patrol, although I took the precautionary step of providing one of my senior decurions as a nursemaid, just to ensure that nothing went too far awry. The sweep went perfectly, and Arthur showed no need for supervision."