Winter announced itself that year with a sprinkling of snow late in December, then relented and withdrew again as it had the previous year, so that the greying skies did no more than scatter gentle rains from time to time. We had no winter storms that year, no gales, no howling winds at all. The bare branches of the trees were mostly still, and the grass remained green underfoot, so that we were able to continue our visits to our outlying friends without interruption.
The traffic of commerce flowed smoothly all winter up and down the length of the great Roman northsouth road, from Camulod north to Nero Appius's new colony of Appia close by Corinium, and south towards the new garrisons at Ilchester and the smaller outposts south of that, on the road to Isca. This road had become known as the Appian Way, after the greatest road in Italia, which led, as all roads did, to Rome. Because of the trust fostered in times past between the benevolent Appians and the leaders among the farmers around Corinium itself, the people of that area had begun to refurbish the original walls of the ancient Corinium camp, tentatively at the outset, but with growing confidence as the work progressed. With the ready assistance of the Appians, a rudimentary garrison soon moved in to occupy the newly reclaimed space. Once established, and with a council of elders appointed to maintain the common law, the population grew almost overnight, like a mushroom, and Corinium became a scheduled checkpoint on our regular patrols.
And then one morning Tress came to where I sat writing in a patch of sunlight and laid a little cup, filled with tiny white and blue and yellow flowers, on the table by my elbow. Spring had arrived; these blossoms were its first bright smile. And yet I sighed to look at them, for their mere presence marked the end of our lovely idyll. Spring, and the new year, meant I had to ride away again, this time eastwards to meet with Germanus, and I truly had no wish to go. Tressa asked me what was wrong, thinking that she might somehow have offended me, and so I told her what was in my mind. She was greatly surprised to hear that I had even considered leaving her behind in Camulod, and was so astounded at the very thought of it that she failed utterly to see my own astonishment that she might even have considered any possibility of accompanying me.
Our differing reactions created one of those dangerous moments when monstrous conflict can spring from the most innocent beginnings, and fortunately I was astute enough, for once, to recognize that. Instead of blurting out the rejection that had sprung to my lips, I bit down hard and waited, allowing Tress to speak without interruption, and forcing myself to really listen to what she had to say.
Unaware of the enormity of what she was suggesting, she informed me that she and Shelagh had decided their place was with us, no matter where we went, short only of riding into battle. Battle was for warriors, she conceded, and women had neither the training nor the strength for confronting male enemies in all out, hand-to-hand warfare. This journey, however, could not be considered a war campaign. She was prepared to concede that we were riding out as a military force and would comport ourselves accordingly for the duration of the expedition, but she saw that, and Shelagh agreed with her, as being no impediment to their accompanying us. They dressed as men and rode as men and behaved as cavalrymen behave; they were skilled in the use of weapons and in the care of their mounts, and they expected no man to do for them what they could not do for themselves. They could contribute to the expedition in a number of ways, including hunting, foraging, standing guard and, if need be, treating minor wounds and injuries.
As she prattled on, presenting what seemed an unending succession of arguments against being barred from coming with us, I found I had to suppress a reluctant grin of admiration. All my objections melted away like snow in a warm wind, so that I had made a momentous decision even before she had finished speaking and long before I had said a single word to countervail her logic. Tress and Shelagh would come with us. Donuil, I knew, would find no fault in that.
And I had no fear that others might disapprove. Shelagh and Tress were the only two female riders in the Colony whom our troopers would accept, since they did not ride as other women ride, daintily and aware at all times of their appearance.
When Tress had finished speaking and stood staring at me, wide eyed and patently unsure of how I would react, I nodded and made a humming sound in my throat, then advised her to be packed and ready to go within the week. She gazed at me disbelievingly, then gasped aloud and kissed me hurriedly and fiercely before rushing off to share her tidings with Shelagh. As I watched her go, I wondered how she would have reacted had she but known the true reason for my accession to her wishes. The last time I had ridden off to Verulamium, and incidentally to meet Germanus of Auxerre, I had left a wife behind me, in the protective safety of my home, only to return and find her brutally murdered. This time my woman would be by my side day and night, and anyone who wished to threaten her or harm her would have to pass through me to do it Germanus arrived at the appointed meeting place around midmorning on a glorious day in late spring. The three craft that bore his party made their way westward along the coast, with lookouts straining to see the signal we had agreed upon to direct them safely to where we waited. Behind me, ranged in disciplined, concentric ranks upon the sides of a small, natural amphitheatre among the rolling, shallow hills, my thousand men sat watching his advent. In truth, there were more than twelve hundred in our party, for a thousand troopers at large require much service and supply in the way of commissary wagons, quartermasters' stores, medical services and extra horses.
I cast my eyes over my assembled force one last time, then nodded to Dedalus to take command and made my way down towards the shore, where a crowd had already assembled to welcome the bishop's party. Behind me came Donuil, Philip, Falvo, Benedict and a dozen other troop commanders and, of course, Tress and Shelagh. I rode at the head, holding my own reins in my right hand and those of a riderless, pure white gelding in my left. I did not know if Germanus still rode or not, but I hoped he would and had selected this mount especially for him.
Enos and his people had made their preparations thoroughly, for we had found that, all along the route east, following the Roman roads from Camulod to Sorviodunum and thence to Venta Belgarum, our arrival had been expected by the local people. From Venta, proceeding directly south-eastwards across country towards the coast some sixty miles away, our experience was quite remarkably similar. We were accompanied by an escort of brown clad clerics, carrying staves and crosses, who were at pains to impress upon us that, despite our impressions to the contrary, we were moving now among God's own Christian flock, who bore us no ill will. And to our vast surprise, in apparent confirmation of that, we encountered no panic and no fear, either of our numbers or our presence, in the lands we crossed, despite the fact that most of the people we encountered were alien to us. This was the Saxon Shore we were traversing, and all its folk were Saxons.
Of course, we did encounter some hostility upon occasion as we progressed southward, but none of it was directed towards us. One particular event made a lasting impression upon me, and it was Dedalus who brought it home to me. He had been riding with the advance guard, and they had happened upon a raid in progress on a solitary farm far from any other signs of habitation. They had driven the raiders off in short order and without casualties among our men, and Ded had come straight to report to me on his return, finding me in my usual position at the head of our advance, in conversation with Benedict. Blunt as ever, Ded interrupted us.