That information took the wind out of Uther's sails. He had guessed wrongly in interpreting the information brought to him earlier, and now he had one army sweeping towards him from the north and another possibly marching towards him from the south. Forcing himself to remain stone-faced and betray none of his thoughts, he thanked the Griffyd clansman and sent him to the commissariat to find food and drink. Then he thanked Finn and dismissed him, too, bidding him return to Ygraine immediately and instruct her to be ready to leave within three days, half the time he had originally named.
As soon as he was alone again, Uther sat down and reviewed his options, and no matter which way he assessed them, they all boiled down to flight: a withdrawal to ground of his own choosing, there to await an attack. He stood up then and went to call for one of his guards, but before he could send the man to look for Popilius Cirro, he found himself listening to a rapidly growing commotion. Curious, he brushed by the guard and stepped outside to where he could hear muffled shouts and sec people straining on tiptoes, trying to see out towards the sea. He noticed one of Huw Strongarm's bowmen running away from the scene, passing close by him, and reached out to grasp the man's arm. The fellow tried to wrench his sleeve free, then stopped as he recognized the King.
"What's happening?" Uther asked.
"A fleet, lord. There's a fleet out there. Hundreds of galleys."
"Have you seen them?"
"Aye, with these." The man pointed at his own eyes.
"Where are you going, then, in such a rush?"
"To tell the Chief."
Uther knew he meant Huw Strongarm. "Good. Find him quickly and send him to me directly. Tell him I'll be here in the command tent. Now hurry. And if you see the Whistler, send him to me, too." He spun back to the guard, who had been standing listening. "Go and find Popilius Cirro for me quick as you can. Tell him I need him now'' He turned then and went back into his tent, fighting the urge to run and gaze out to sea, counting the enemy ships like any of his rank and file. In the shadowed coolness of his tent Uther forced himself to think, refusing to say to himself that this could not be happening, not all at once, mere moments apart on the same day. An army in the south, an army in the north, landed from a fleet, and now a fleet off the coast. He could not remain here, that was clear. Even his men on the cliffs with their fire arrows were now at risk, because the Galloglas army coming from the north had been less than forty miles distant two days earlier and might now be just over the brow of the closest hill to the north. If they arrived before the Pendragon bowmen could be withdrawn from their cliff perches, then the bowmen would be lost, cut off and slaughtered or starved out. They had to be recalled immediately, and even that was going to take a deal of time to achieve, since the isolated bowmen would have to be contacted one by one.
Garreth Whistler arrived quickly, followed moments later by Popilius Cirro, then by Mucius Quinto and Huw Strongarm. A hurried conference generated a quick consensus, and no single person there thought to say a word about forewarnings or their earlier misgivings. The orders were for the army to retreat immediately in good order, and the senior commanders were dispersed to their various tasks.
Uther sent a runner to find Nemo, and when the trooper appeared in answer to the summons, removing her heavy helmet as she entered the tent, Uther waved her to a chair and handed her a large cup of honeyed mead. He had never done the like before, and Nemo accepted it wordlessly, watching closely as Uther sat down across from her on the other side of the brazier, where he lifted his cup in a salute and sipped a mouthful, preparing to say something but evidently not quite ready to speak.
Nemo waited in silence, as always.
Finally Uther smiled. "Do they still call you Hard-Nose?"
Nemo nodded.
"That's because they respect you. You know that, don't you?" Another nod. "Aye . . . and they all think of you as a man. That, my friend, is an astounding achievement. They all think you're a man. Nemo. And yet Nemo means No One. No Name. No Man. That's ironic, is it not? No Man. It's who you have become, and yet it's who you have always been . . . I know who you really are, because you and I have been friends that long. But I never did know your true name."
She frowned, bringing her brows together into a solid bar of black. "Jonet."
"What?"
"Jonet. My real name . . . Jonet. My mother was Naomi. I took her name when I ran away . . . when I met you. Then you called me Nemo. It was close, and I liked it."
"Jonet is your real name? I didn't know that. I prefer Nemo."
"Me too."
"Then Nemo you will remain forever, and Nemo only. I have a task for you. Nemo, a very difficult and dangerous task for one person acting alone. I would never consider asking it of anyone else. Will you undertake it?"
"Aye."
Uther stared at her. "That simply? You don't even know what it is."
Nemo merely blinked, her face unreadable. "I'll do it. What is it?"
"I need you to find a man and bring him to me. His name is Lagan."
"The Longhead."
"Ah, that's right, you know him from before, don't you? Yes, Lagan Longhead. Now, the difficulty lies in that I don't know where he is. He might even be dead."
"If he's alive, I'll find him. Why is it dangerous?"
Uther shrugged. "For several reasons. First, you'll be alone, and the countryside is swarming with Lot's mercenaries."
It was Nemo's turn to shrug massive shoulders, genuinely unimpressed.
Uther continued. "Another reason is that he might be mad, and therefore unpredictable. Have you heard about what happened to his wife and son?" Nemo shook her head and Uther outlined the story briefly. When he had finished. Nemo nodded, indicating that she understood.
"When do you want me to go, and what do you want me to tell him when I find him?"
Uther made a huffing noise through his nostrils and emptied his cup in a single gulp. "I want you to go as soon as you're ready, and when you find him, bring him back here to me. Tell him the Queen is safe, and that she and I need his counsel. Can you remember those exact words?"
"The Queen is safe and you and she need his counsel. I can remember that."
"You'll need these," Uther said, reaching into his scrip and pulling out two small items. "They are the tokens I arranged to use with Lagan. This one, the coloured pebble, is his own. It will prove to him that you come from me. The other, the wax seal marked with a cross, was to be my token to his father, Herliss, and to him. Keep them close and guard them well and never part with both of them at the same time. Always keep one of them in your possession. They are your guarantee of safe conduct through Lagan's army, wherever it might be."
Nemo closed her hand around the tokens and nodded. "Good. I'll go now." She stood up and gulped down the mead, then tucked the two small items securely beneath her tunic. Uther sat watching her.
"Tell me your message again. Nemo."