Then I remembered Lucanus, and I smiled. Luke had been a gatherer of all things medicinal—leaves and herbs and roots and pods and berries—and he had devised a means of garnering and saving them that left his hands free of the need to carry them. He had had several robes made to his precise design, and had thereafter worn one every time he ventured out on any errand of collection. They were long and black and sleeveless, made of strong, homespun cloth in double thickness. Belted at the waist, they were open from neckline to ankle, and completely festooned with pouches and pockets, each strongly sewn in place and all overlapping one upon the other as they hung. I recalled the pride and enjoyment with which he had demonstrated it, when it was new. I had made some comment on its appearance, and he had brushed that aside, entreating me to think of its function rather than its look; the capacity to carry large quantities of different plants, berries and leaves, without the fear of losing them or mixing them together. Luke was long dead, but one of those garments hung in my own quarters in Camulod, where he had left it and forgotten it years earlier, before we went to Ravenglass. I had noticed it mere days before, hanging still in place, but had thought nothing of it at the time. Now I knew that I had to return to Camulod to collect it.
Pleased that I now knew how I would proceed, I set about the selection of my deadly tools. I set aside one ceramic, lidded box of the green poisoned paste first. That was my sine qua non, my most essential element: the death I had selected for both Ironhair and Carthac. They would both die consumed by inner fires, as had the warlock Caspar. After that, I laid apart the rolled ribbons of cloth that held the finger joint long poisoned thorns, each placed beside its neighbour with great care, the deadly points thrust through the cloth for safety and for ease of carrying. As I progressed, the choices became more difficult. Vials of liquid of varying colours, each of them deadly' enough to empoison an entire army, if added to the water that they drank. Boxes of powders that, mixed into food or drink, could produce frothing, convulsive, agonizing death within mere moments. Clusters of fibrous stuff that , thrown into a fire, produced a sweetish, sickening smoke that stupefied all who breathed it.
One substance gave me no concern at all, and that was the large box of combustible powder that I thought of as fire powder. I would not have considered leaving that behind. Another substance, this one a reddish, crystalline compound evidently crushed with mortar and pestle, affected me similarly, and my sole regret was for the paucity I had of it. This substance, when ingested, brought paralysis. Years before, I had dissolved a tiny pinch of it in water and then fed it to a rabbit, which had quickly died in a spasm, board stiff. I had set the poor dead tiling aside, holding it by its rigid legs and meaning to burn it later, after I had completed my notations on the day's activities. But when I looked again, perhaps an hour later, the "dead" rabbit had revived completely and went bounding from the table when it saw me move. Astonished more than I can say, I had repeated the procedure with another rabbit, with the same results. The paralysis was total, but reversed itself within the hour. The second time I carried out the test, I watched far more closely, and observed that the little creature's eyes did not glaze over as they would in death. In fact, they seemed alert, though motionless. I brought a taper close, and the pupils contracted, indicating an awareness of the light. I could not, of course, be certain, but I believed the animal had not lost consciousness but merely the ability to move. If that were true, it might apply to men, as well. I set the reddish crystals aside, checking with care to see that the lid still fitted snugly on the small box that contained them.
My final selection was no selection at all, but rather the careful removal from its packaging of the amazing, hair crowned human mask that fitted me as though shaped to my face. Then I repacked both large chests and locked them , dragged them deep into the trees, covering them first with a leather sleeping tent, and then laying branches over them. It was almost completely dark by then, and I carried my selected treasures into the hut, where I piled them carefully in a corner before lighting the fire in the iron basket against the wall at the foot of the bed.
The following morning, I returned briefly to Camulod, avoiding everyone and merely visiting my quarters to collect the long robe that Lucanus had left there. I was back in my valley long before nightfall, and in the course of the evening I repeated the entire procedure I had rehearsed the previous day, having discovered that Luke's pocket rich garment would hold far more than I had suspected. It was heavy, when I picked it up to put it on, but it hung easily, once donned, and when I had distributed the contents to remove the chinking sound of vials knocking on each other, I found that I could walk silently while wearing it. I then spent another entire day teaching myself which substances lay hidden in which pocket, so that soon I could reach for each package without thought.
I was prepared.
PART THREE
Verulamium
SEVENTEEN
The sentry stiffened as I lunged, but before he could begin to shout or move I had clamped my fingers over his mouth and nostrils and jerked him back against me, my dagger point pressed against his exposed neck. I hissed into his ear.
"You should be dead, my friend, but friend I am. I am Merlyn Britannicus. Nod your head if you believe me and can hold your peace." I felt his head move in my grasp, and I released him and stepped back. He turned to face me slowly, his eyes wide with fear. I did not know him, but I saw the recognition come into his face.
"Comm—" he began, but I silenced him with a chop of my hand.
"Who commands the guard tonight? And keep your voice down."
"Commander Falvo, sir."
"Good. Bring me to him."
Benedict was with Falvo in the command tent, and their jaws fell open when they saw me step in. They both leaped to their feet with cries of welcome, but stopped short as their eyes took in my whole appearance. I knew I was a sight well worth beholding, but I had no time to waste on niceties. This was a large encampment, filled with men and horses, and I had penetrated it without difficulty, making? my way through the outer guards simply by walking in the shadows, cloaked in my black robes.
"Benedict, Falvo," I greeted them, nodding to each in turn. "Your security is weak. Your guards are useless. None of them saw me walk in here. No one challenged me and I made no attempt to hide. Is Ambrose here?"
Benedict answered me. "No, Ambrose rode off late this afternoon with Derek and a hundred Scouts. We fought a battle here, today."
"And now your guards have earned the right to sleep on duty? I know you fought today. I watched it from the mountain top to the north. But you fought inconclusively. Their shield walls thwarted you. They gulled you into following' them on to their chosen ground, and then they outfought you with Roman tactics. You achieved nothing. Will you' offer me a cup of wine?"