It was almost full daylight by then, and Uther, his head bare and his huge helmet cradled in the bend of his elbow, was waiting impatiently for everything to be in order, and as awareness of his disapproving frown spread among the men, that order was achieved, and a stillness fell. Uther nodded, satisfied, but just as he raised his clenched fist to give the signal to move out, a shout went up from the outer ring of guards and a mounted trooper came hammering towards them, shouting an alarm.
Uther rode out to meet the approaching man immediately, waving him down as he drew closer, but he already knew what the trooper, whose name was Curio, would tell him. Sure enough, he brought word of a large body of heavily armed and armoured horsemen approaching quickly, forty or fifty strong, coming down the valley from the north by the route that Uther had followed the day before. They had come with the first light of dawn, Curio said, and they had been moving slowly over the unfamiliar and night- shrouded ground, but fortunately young Telas, the man with the best eyes among the guards, had been on duty and alert for any signs of movement in the gathering light. He had seen the newcomers the moment they came into view and had raised the alarm.
Junius Lepo had sent Curio off immediately at full gallop to warn Uther, while he and his remaining ten troopers had gone into hiding, prepared to meet and engage the newcomers, hitting them by surprise. That had been less than half an hour earlier. Curio could not know how long Junius Lepo and his ten men might be able to fight off the strangers, or if they would be successful in holding them at all, but he had ridden at the gallop all the way, escaping unseen and sure that he was leaving his mates to their death.
Uther listened, resisting the urge to curse Garreth Whistler for his insubordination of the day before. It was by no means certain, he told himself, that the newcomers had followed the Whistler. They might have simply come south on their own initiative, looking for plunder of any kind. But even as he thought the words, he doubted them.
"Very well," he said to Curio. "Come with me and stay close by me, but keep your mouth shut. I'll do all the talking."
He wheeled his horse and spurred it back to where the others sat watching him and waiting, but he pulled up short of them, where none of them could easily hear him speaking quietly.
"Garreth," he called. "A word with you."
Garreth Whistler kneed his mount forward to where the King and Curio had drawn rein, some way from the rest of the party.
"Those riders you evaded yesterday, were they cavalry?"
The Champion's brow clouded. "No. They were mounted, but they had no formation and showed no signs of discipline. I wouldn't call them cavalry. Why?"
"Because they're coming down on us right now. Junius Lepo and his men are trying to hold them, but they're outnumbered. Call in the perimeter guards and have them form up with the others. Cato, over here!" Garreth moved away immediately, and when the junior cavalry commander presented himself, saluting smartly, Uther told him to send one of his best mounted men back along the track behind them to watch for the first signs of an approaching enemy and then bring word of how far away they were and how quickly they were coming.
Cato saluted again and turned away briskly, and Uther was already calling others to him: Alasdair Mac Iain, the Queen's captain; Ivor, the captain of the remaining Pendragon bowmen, no more than thirty of them left now; and Catt. their Cornish guide. Tersely, he told these three what was happening and ordered them to take their men and strike out immediately for the coast with Ygraine and the other women. They were sixty strong, he pointed out, and probably more than enough to fight off the newcomers, but the strangers were mounted and apparently well armoured, and that would give them an enormous advantage even against Pendragon bowmen in a running fight. For that reason, he and his troopers would remain behind to stop the oncoming horsemen, giving the foot party a chance to reach the coast where, if the gods were kind, Connor Mac Athol would be awaiting them with his own forces.
His listeners looked at each other, tight-lipped, but no one spoke. Finally Alasdair nodded. "So be it. Fight well. King Cambria."
Uther's eyes widened at the name that, as far as he had known, no one but Ygraine used. Then he nodded. "I need to say a word to the others to let them know what's afoot, and I need a few moments alone with your cousin and my son. As soon as I have done so, we will be gone and so will you. Waste no time on the road, my friend, even should it mean carrying some of the women."
He saluted the three men and then turned to face the remainder of his group, telling them succinctly what he had told their commanders. He wasted no words and made no attempt to lessen the impact of what he had to say. They listened grimly, and then the two groups, those on foot and those on horseback, began to move apart.
Uther shrugged out of his great red cloak and folded it twice across his arm before throwing it to one of his troopers. "Here, fold this tightly and then bind it behind my saddle here, if you would, with my bedroll."
He swung down from his seat then and went directly to Ygraine, who had turned to Dyllis and was now taking the baby's travelling pack from the smaller woman's arms. As Uther reached her side, the Queen turned to him, holding out the baby, who was snugly wrapped for travelling on such a chilly morning in the soft-tanned, pliant skin of a black bear that covered every part of him but his face.
"Your son. King Cambria. Arthur Pendragon. He wears the black bear emblem of your cousin Merlyn, but only against the morning chill. He is his father's son in every respect. Kiss him goodbye, and me, and wish us well. Then go and do what you must do and rejoin us soon. We will be waiting for you."
He kissed the child, sniffing deeply to inhale the clean, milky smell of him, and then embraced Ygraine.
"Uther, my love," she whispered into his ear, bringing his skin up in gooseflesh. "Be quick, and come back to me soon. I love you."
"And I you, lady. Your name will be in my mind and in my heart through all that happens. My love. My Ygraine. Go now, and take good care of my son." His eyes abruptly filled with tears and he swung away from her quickly, striding back towards his horse and almost leaping up into the saddle. "Away with you now," he shouted. "Farewell. And may all the gods of Cambria watch over you until we meet again." He pulled his horse up into a high, rearing turn and thrust his arm straight up and then out, back towards the direction from which they had come. He rowelled his horse's belly with the spurs and moved forward, hearing the creak and jingle of saddlery behind him as the column at his back surged into motion.
Uther led his men forward slowly, eastward along the riverbank, using the narrow strip of sand bordering the river between the boulder- strewn flood bed on his right and the dense growth of trees on the banks at his left. As he went he eyed the opposite bank closely, looking at the terrain there and preferring it to where he was. No more than two men could ride abreast here on the northern bank of the Camel, restricted as they were to where their horses could find footing, but the high cliff towering over the other side of the river had provided shelter for some large trees, and one large grove of enormous firs drew his attention. He turned to Garreth Whistler, who rode on his left.