Ghost King (20 page)

'You are a bright man, Uther. Tell me where she found the sword.'

'How can I? I know of . . .' The prince stopped, his mouth suddenly dry. 'Hers was the hand in the lake the day my father died. And yet she was with me in the mountains. How is this possible?'

'A fine question, and one which I should like to answer. One day, if you are still alive when I reach a conclusion, I shall come to you. All I know for certain is that it was right that it should happen. What will you do now?'

'I shall try to bring her down.'

Pendarric nodded. 'You are much like your grandfather - the same earnestness, the same proud sense of honour. It is pleasing to me. I wish you well, Uther, now and in the future.'

'You are of the Feragh?'

'I am.'

'Can you tell me what is happening in my homeland?'

'Aquila is losing the war. He smashed one Brigante army at Virosidum, and Ambrosius has destroyed Cerdic. But the Saxon Hengist is moving north with seven thousand men, hoping to link with Eldared for a conclusive battle at Eboracum.'

'How soon will this happen?'

'It is not possible to say, Uther - any more than it is possible to predict your future. It may be that you will defeat Goroien and not be able to return home. It may be that you will return only to face defeat and death. I do not know. What I do know is that you are Rolynd and that counts for more than crowns.'

'Rolynd?'

'It is a state of being, a condition of harmony with the unknown universe. It is very rare -maybe only one man in ten thousand. In material terms it means you are lucky, but also that you earn your luck. Culain is Rolynd; he would be proud of you.'

'Culain is dead. The Soul Stealers killed him.'

'No, he is alive - but not for long. He also is riding to face Goroien - and there he will meet an enemy he cannot conquer. And now I must go-'

'Can you not stay and lead the war against the Witch Queen?'

Pendarric smiled. 'I could, Uther - but I am not Rolynd.'

He reached out as if to shake Uther by the hand, but instead dropped a Sipstrassi Stone into the Prince's palm.

'Use it wisely,' he said, and faded from sight.

Laitha found Uther sitting alone, lost in thought, staring into the flickering flames. She approached him silently and drew up a chair near him. 'Are you angry with me?' she asked, her voice soft and childlike. He shook his head, deciding it was better to lie than to face his pain. 'You have not spoken to me for days,' she whispered. 'Was it ... was I ... so disappointing?' He turned to her then and realised she did not know she had whispered Culain's name. He was filled with an urge to hurt her, to ram his bitterness home, but her eyes were innocent and he forced back his wrath.

'No,' he said, 'you did not disappoint me. I love you, Laitha. It is that simple.'

'And I love you,' she told him, the words tripping so easily from her tongue that his anger threatened to engulf him. She smiled and tilted her head, waiting for him to reach out and draw her to him. But he did not. He turned once more to the fire. A great sadness touched her then and she rose, hoping he would notice and bid her remain. He did not. She held back her tears until she was outside in the moonlight, then she ran to the edge of the stones and sat alone.

Inside the building Uther cursed softly. He had watched her leave, hoping this small punishment would hurt her, and found that it hurt him also. He had wanted to take her, to touch and stroke her skin; had needed to bury his head in her hair, allowing the perfume of her body to wash over him. And he had not told her that Culain was alive. Was that a punishment also - or a fear that she would turn from him? He wished he had never met her, for he sensed his heart would never be rid of her.

He stood and looked down at his ragged, torn clothing. Not much like a God, Uther -more like a penniless crofter. On impulse he took up the Stone and closed his eyes. Instantly he was clothed in the splendid armour of a First Legate, a red cloak draped over silver breastplate, a leather kilt decorated with silver strips, embossed silver greaves over soft leather riding-boots. The Stone still showed not a trace of black vein.

He moved out into the night and wandered down to the square ditch enclosure where the Legion had pitched their tents. The two legionary guards saluted him as he passed and he made his way towards the tent of Severinus Albinus. Everywhere huge fires were burning under the carcases of deer, elk and sheep, and songs were being sung around several of the blazes. Severinus rose and saluted as Uther entered his tent. The young Roman was a little unsteady on his feet and wine had stained the front of his toga. He grinned shamefacedly. 'I am sorry, Prince Uther. You find me not at my best.'

Uther shrugged. 'It must have been good to see the sunshine.'

'Good? I lost seventy men to the Void and many of them returned to stand outside the camp and call to their comrades. Only their faces were grey, their eyes red - it was worse than death. I will have nightmares about it for all my life. But now I am drunk, and it does not seem so terrible.'

'You have earned this night with your courage,' said Uther, 'but tomorrow the wax must stay firmly in place on the flagons. Tomorrow the war begins.'

'We shall be ready.'

Uther left the tent and returned to Erin, seeing Laitha sitting alone at the edge of the circle. He went to her, his anger gone.

'Do not sit here alone,' he said. 'Come join me.'

'Why are you treating me this way?'

He knelt beside her. 'You loved Culain. Let me ask you this: Had he taken you for his wife, would you have been happy?'

'Yes. Is that so terrible?'

'Not at all, lady. And if on your first night together he had whispered Goroien's name in your ear, would your happiness have continued?' She looked into his smoke-grey eyes -Culain's eyes - and saw the pain.

'Did I do that ... to you?'

'You did.'

'I am so sorry.'

'As am I, Laitha.'

'Will you forgive me?'

'What is there to forgive? You did not lie. Do I forgive you for loving someone else? That is not a choice you made, it is merely a truth. There is no need for forgiveness. Can I forget it? I doubt it. Do I still want you, even though I know you will be thinking of another? Yes. And that shames me.'

'I would do anything,' she said, 'to take away the hurt.'

'You will become my wife?'

'Yes. Gladly.'

He took her hand. 'From this day forward we are joined and I will take no other wives.'

'From this day forward we are one,' she said.

'Come with me.' He led her to a small, still deserted hut behind the main building. Here he lifted his Stone and a bed appeared.

But the soaring passion of their first loving was not repeated, and both of them drifted to sleep nursing private sorrows.

*

The dragon circled Skitis Island twice before Culain directed it down to an outcrop of wooded hills some two miles from the black stone fortress Goroien had constructed. The edifice was huge, a great stone gateway below two towers, and a moat of fire - burning without smoke. Culain leapt from the dragon's back and spoke the words of power. The beast shrank back into the grey gelding it had been and Culain stripped the saddle from its back and slapped its rump. The horse cantered away over the hillside.

The Mist Warrior took up his belongings and walked the half-mile to the deserted cabin he had seen from the air. Once inside he laid a fire, then stripped his clothing and stepped naked into the dawn light. Taking a deep breath, he began to run. Within a short time his breathing became ragged, his face crimson. He pushed on, feeling the acids building in his limbs, aware of the pounding in his chest. At last he turned for home, every step a burning torture. Back at the cabin he stretched his aching legs, pushing his fingers deep into the muscles of his calves, probing the knots and strains. He bathed in an icy stream and dressed once more. Beyond the cabin was a rocky section of open ground. Here he lifted two fist-sized stones and stood with his arms hanging loosely by his sides. Taking a deep breath he raised his arms and lowered them, repeating the movement again and again. Sweat streamed from his brow, stinging his eyes, but he worked on until he had raised each rock-laden arm forty times. As dusk painted the sky he set off for another run, shorter this time, loosening the muscles of his legs. Finally he slept on the floor before the fire.

He was up at dawn to repeat the torture of the previous day, driving himself even harder, ignoring pain and discomfort, holding the one vision that could overcome his agony.

Gilgamesh, The Lord of Battle . . .

The most deadly fighting man Culain had ever seen.

*

As Uther had hoped the town of Callia opened its gates without a battle, the people streaming out to strew flowers at the feet of the marching Legion. A young girl, no more than twelve, ran to Uther and placed a garland of flowers over his head.

Agarin Finder and the army of Goroien had vanished like morning mist. The legion camped outside the town and wagons bearing supplies rolled out to them. Uther met the town leaders, who assured him of their support. He found it distasteful that they flung themselves full-length on the ground before him, but made no effort to stop them. By the following day six hundred erstwhile soldiers of the Witch Queen had come to him swearing loyalty. Korrin had urged him to slay them all, but Uther accepted their oaths and they rode with him as the Legion set off on the ten-day march to Perdita, the castle of iron.

Prasamaccus was sent with Korrin to scout ahead. Each evening they returned, but no sign of opposition forces was found until the sixth day.

Tired and dust-covered, Prasamaccus, gratefully accepted the goblet of watered wine and leaned back on the divan rubbing his aching left leg. Uther and Severinus sat silently, waiting for the Brigante to catch his breath.

'There are eight thousand footmen and two thousand horse.  They should be here late tomorrow morning.'

'How was their discipline?' asked Severinus.

'They march in good order, and they are well-armed.' Severinus looked to Uther.

'Do they have scouts out?' asked the prince.

'Yes. I saw two men camped in the hills to the west watching the camp.'

'Order the men to take up a defensive position on the highest hills,' Uther told Severinus. Throw up a rampart wall and set stakes.'

'But, Prince Uther

'Do it now, Severinus. It is almost dusk. I want the men working on the ramparts within the next hour.' The Roman's face darkened but he stood, saluted and hurried from the tent.

'The Romans do not like fighting from behind walls,' commented Prasamaccus.

'No more do I. I know you are tired, my friend, but locate the scouts and come to me when they have gone. Do not let them know you are there.'

For two hours the men of the Ninth Legion constructed a six-foot wall of turf around the crown of a rounded hill. They worked in silence under the watchful eye of Severinus Albinus. An hour after dusk, Prasamaccus returned to Uther's tent.

'They have gone,' he said.

Uther nodded. 'Fetch Severinus to me.'

Dawn found Agarin Pinder and his foot-soldiers twenty-two miles from the newly built fortress. He sent his mounted troops to engage the defenders and hold them in position until the infantry could follow. Then he allowed rations to be given to each man - a small loaf of black bread and a round of cheese. When they had broken their fast, they set off in columns of three on the long march to battle. He did not push them hard, for he wanted them fresh for the onslaught; nor did he allow the pace to slacken, for he knew that fighting men did not relish a long wait. It was a fine line, but Agarin Finder was a careful man and a conscientious soldier. His troops were the best trained of the six nations and also the best fed and best-armed. The three, he knew, were inseparable.

At last he came in sight of the fortified hill. Already his mounted troops had circled the base, just out of arrow range. Agarin dismounted. It was nearing noon and he ordered tents to be set up and cooking fires lit. He broke the columns and rode forward with his aide to check the enemy fortifications. As the tents were unrolled and the soldiers milled about the new camp, the Ninth Legion marched in two phalanxes from the woods on either side. They marched without drums and halted, allowing their five hundred archers to send a deadly rain of shafts into the camp. Hearing the screams of the dying, Agarin swung his horse and watched in disbelief as his highly-trained troops milled in confusion. The Legion, in close formation, advanced into the centre of the camp, leaving two ranks of archers on the hills on either side.

Agarin cursed and hammered his heels into his horse's side, hoping to break through the red-cloaked enemy and rally his men. His horse reared and fell, an arrow in its throat. The general pitched over its neck, scrambled to his feet and drew his sword. Turning to his aide, he ordered the man from the saddle. As he was dismounting, two arrows appeared in his chest. The stallion reared as the dying man's weight fell to its back and galloped away. The thunder of hooves from behind caused Agarin to spin on his heel as Uther and twenty men in the armour of Pinrae rode from the trees. The prince dismounted, drawing a longsword.

'I told you once. Now you must learn,' said Uther. Agarin ran forward swinging his blade, but Uther blocked the blow, sending a vicious return cut through his enemy's throat. Agarin fell to his knees, his fingers seeking to stem the red rush of life-blood. He pitched to his face on the grass.

In the camp all was chaos, slaughter and panic. With no time to prepare, the men of Goroien's army either fought in small shield circles that were slowly and ruthlessly cut to pieces, or ran back towards the east in frantic attempts to regroup. Some two thousand men managed to break from the camp under the command of three senior officers. They ran the deadly gauntlet of shafts from the bowmen on the hillsides and tried to form a fighting square, but then four hundred cavalry thundered from the woods with lances levelled. The square broke as panic blossomed and the soldiers fled, pursued and slain by the lancers.

They received no help from their own cavalry who, seeing Agarin Finder slain, rode south at speed. Within the hour the battle was over. Three thousand survivors threw away their weapons and pleaded for mercy.

The stench of death was everywhere, clinging and cloying, and Uther rode to the fortress hill where two hundred men of the Legion waited. They cheered as he rode in and he forced himself to acknowledge them with a smile. Korrin was ecstatic.

'What a day!' he said, as Uther slid from the saddle.

'Yes. Five thousand slain. What a day!'

'When will you kill the others?'

Uther blinked. 'What others?'

'Those who have surrendered,' said Korrin. 'They should all hang like the traitors they are.'

'They are not traitors, Korrin, they are soldiers - men like yourself. Strong men, courageous men. I'll have no part in slaughter.'

"They are the enemy! You cannot allow three thousand men - warriors - to go free. And we cannot feed and guard them.’

'You are a fool!' hissed Uther. 'If we kill them no one will ever surrender again. They will fight like trapped rats - and that will cost me men. When these survivors go back, they will carry the word of our victory. They will say - and rightly so - that we are superb fighting men. That will weaken the resolve of those still to come against us. We are not here, Korrin, to start a blood-bath, but to end the reign of the Witch Queen. And ask yourself this, my blood-hungry friend: when I leave this realm with my Legion, from where will you recruit your own army? It will be from among the very men you want me to slay. Now get away from me. I am tired of war and talk of war.'

Towards midnight, Severinus and two of his centurions entered Uther's tent. The prince looked up and rubbed his eyes. He had been asleep, Laitha beside him, and for the first time in weeks his dreams had been untroubled.

'Your orders have been obeyed, Prince Uther,' said Severinus, his face set, his eyes accusing.

'What orders?'

'The prisoners are dead. The last of them tried to break free and I lost ten men. But now it is done.'