Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

“What can we do?” asked Elphin.

“Governor Flavian has proposed to send a cohort up north of the Wall to patrol this summer. Segontium has been ordered to provide the auxiliary for Deva and Eboracum. The governor believes that if we make our presence felt, we may discourage them from coming down-perhaps stop them altogether. I am asking you to stand supply for the auxiliary.”

Before Gwyddno could answer Elphin said, “You have it.”

Avitus and Maximus glanced at each other. Avitus could not hide his smile.

“And anything else you need. I believe you asked Killydd for men.”

“We did. He gave us horses-which are welcome, to be sure, but we need men as well.”

“Does the emperor not have enough men?” asked Gwyddno snidely.

“Wars elsewhere take our strength. None of the legions is fully manned.”

“You shall have the men too,” said Elphin decisively. His father stared at him but did not gainsay him.

“Prince Elphin, your generosity is most gratifying.” Avitus sat back and allowed himself a sip from his cup.

“My generosity has a price, Tribune Avitus.”

“Yes?” Avitus sat up warily.

“I will give you the men and stand supply for them, but I want them trained and returned to me when you are finished.”

“You shall have it and gladly,” said Avitus. “But may I ask your reason for this request?”

“I intend raising a warband.”

“I see.” The implications suggested themselves to the tribune at once. “A Roman-trained warband would be most effective.”

“You do not approve?”

“Officially? No, I do not approve. But I understand and will not hinder you. We must admit that Rome is having difficulty protecting all her subjects. You are half-a-day’s ride from the nearest garrison-a trained warband will give you what we cannot provide.”

“A warband?” wondered Gwyddno. He nodded slowly, eyes narrowed, as if seeing his son in an unexpected new light.

“How many men do you need?”

“As many as you can spare.”

“A century,” put in Maximus.

“A hundred?” Elphin did some rapid calculation. “Very well, a hundred. And I will be among them.”

“Prince Elphin, there is no need”

“No, it must be this way. You see, I wish to learn command. I will ride with my men.”

“So be it!” Tribune Avitus pounded the table with his fist and smiled. He lifted his cup in a toast. “Death to Rome’s enemies!”

They drank and the soldiers rose to leave. “Join us as soon as you have raised your men. The sooner the better. That will give us more time to train them.”

“We will join you before another full moon has passed,” promised Elphin.

“Until we meet again then, Prince.” Avitus saluted, Max-imus likewise, and they marched out of the house.

Elphin and his father followed and watched them ride away. When they had gone Gwyddno turned to his son. “You never told me anything about raising a warband.”

“There was no time. But if you are worried about”

“No. It is a good plan. I will stand for the supply.” He smiled suddenly. “But you will be king, lad, and battlechief. Just like the lords of old.” Gwyddno’s eyes glittered with the glory of it. “Come Samhain there will be none to challenge your right to the kingship.”

Charis rose early and dressed quickly. she chose a ripe pear from a bowl on the table and sauntered outside onto the balcony to enjoy the garden, chewing the soft, sweet pulp. She saw someone walking along one of the vine-trimmed pathways below. It was Annubi, head down, legs stumping, arms jerking oddly.

Balancing the half eaten pear on the railing, she slipped lightly down the steps and hastened after him, following for a while. But the seer was so completely absorbed in his thoughts, he took no notice of her, and Charis soon grew tired of being ignored and drew even with him. “Where have you been, Annubi? I have not seen you since we arrived.”

He turned his head and said tartly, “So you are awake. Is it midday already?”

“Who can sleep? Today is the Festival of Kings. I do not want to miss a thing.”

“Not that you could.” He turned his attention back to the path before him.

“You should stop drinking that vile wine of yours,” she told him. “You are becoming quite as sour as it is.”

If he heard her he gave no indication. “I \have been talking to the Magi… Ha! Bickering with small-minded, venomous lizards.”

Charis laughed. “Is that where you have been all this time? With the Magi? What did they say to upset you?”

“They jabber and drool and sniff one another’s armpits, and they all pretend they know what they are doing. They pick the boils on their worthless hides and grin their insufferable, know-nothing grins… And the lies, Charis, the lies! Lies ooze from their mouths like pus from a running wound.”

“They refuse to say what you want to hear, in other words”

“They disgrace their holy office with their very presence. They pule and moan and roll their eyes at the slightest hint of a genuine thought. Bah! I am done with them.” ‘ “If they are the lizards you profess them to be, why do you care what they think or do? Why bother with them at all?”

Annubi’s mouth made a straight line. He started to speak but bit back the words.

“There, you see? You are just tired and angry. Come back to the palace and have something to eat. You will feel better.”

Annubi looked at her-hair shimmering like white gold in the early morning light, bright eyes full of life, finely-shaped limbs tan from her hours in the sun-and nodded his head. “May you never lack for light, bright one,” he told her.

They walked for a few minutes more in silence and then returned to the royal apartments where the table had been laid and food was being served. Charis took her place and helped herself to fresh figs and warm flatbread. Annubi lingered in the doorway, staring at the table and those gathered around it. Briseis saw him and rose slowly to her feet. An unspoken question passed between them, for the seer answered with a slight shake of his head. Briseis only nodded. “Come, Annubi, have something to eat,” she said softly.

“The king has already gone, and Kian with him. We have time, though. Sit with us.”

Annubi stumbled forward and sank into a chair at the table. A plate of dates, fruit, and soft cheese was offered to him by a servant. He stared at the plate and then shook his head. The servant moved on.

“Annubi has been to see the Magi,” announced Charis. “He says they behaved like venomous lizards.”

“Lizards!” laughed Maildun.

“Tell us, what did they say?” asked Eoinn.

“Yes, tell us!” Guistan said.

“Leave Annubi alone,” Briseis coaxed. “He has been working very hard and he is tired.”

“Did they show you any secrets?” Maildun asked.

“Did they tell you the future?” Eoinn wondered.

“Tell us!” demanded Guistan.

Annubi glared sullenly at his eager audience and muttered, “The Magi told me that unbridled curiosity would be the sad undoing of three young princes from Sarras.”

“They would never say that!” huffed Maildun.

“Liar!” cried Guistan.

“Boys!” snapped Briseis. “That is enough. You may leave.”

The princes jumped up from the table and clattered from the room. Briseis sighed softly. “I am sorry, Annubi. It seems they grow more uncouth daily.”

Annubi looked cross, but shrugged and said, “They are young and life has no limits. Nothing is impossible, nothing beyond doing or knowing. The world is theirs and everything in it. Let them go… let them go.”

“It is hard to imagine I ever felt like that,” Briseis replied. “Still, I suppose I did.”