Jack Whyte - The Lance Thrower

“I knew they were close, but I would never have suspected such a long friendship. Forty-three years is more than half lifetime. Anyway, Ludovic knew how important our affairs here in Britain were to Germanus, and so he took the time to write a long letter to Bishop Enos, describing the bishop’s final days and the circumstances surrounding his death, and he described in detail several of the conversations he him self had had with Germanus concerning our activities hen and the coronation we were planning. As you know, Ger manus firmly believed that the salvation of the Church Britain will depend upon the emergence of Camulod as military force under Arthur, and neither Bishop Enos nor can see any reason to doubt the accuracy of his expecta tions.”

Merlyn stopped talking and sat watching me closely whil I struggled to absorb all that I had just learned. Finally he leaned slightly toward me, his gaze still fixed on mine, and asked, “How do you feel?”

Even in my daze I recognized the futility of the question. I remembered having asked it myself of other people in pain, in just the same hapless way because there are times when you have to ask, and those are the only words that come anywhere close to framing the concern you are trying to express. I gulped and nodded my head, waving one hand in a small gesture to indicate that I was well and needed no help. It was a lie, of course, and we both knew that, but it served as an acknowledgment that my mind was still functioning. Merlyn accepted it and resumed speaking, still leaning toward me with the same narrow-eyed gaze.

“I want you now to think again about your dream, Clothar, in the light of what I have just told you. From all the information I have been able to gather—from Ludovic’s letter and from the eyewitness account of the priest who brought the letter to us—Germanus must have died very close to the time when you dreamed of his presence in your tent. I mean very close, Clothar … perhaps that selfsame night, and at the very hour you saw him, for he died in the deepest part of the night. His death occurred on the last night in March. Your dream, you said, occurred at the end of March or the beginning of April. I would like you to think more closely about that now, because it is of great import. I have asked Enos if he can remember when it was, but he was not in Verulamium at the time and did not return until several days later. He recalls only that you were excited by the dream and impatient to be on your way, and that you had waited for his return purely out of courtesy.”

I frowned, thinking about that. “I remembered the dream itself, no more. The particular night of its occurrence was unimportant.”

“Well, do you believe now that it might have been important after all?”

I felt myself frowning harder, knowing what he was now suggesting, but I was far from convinced that this theory of his might have merit. “How so?”

“How so? How so? Because, my young friend, if your dream occurred the night Germanus died, then he might really have been there in your tent, and for a purpose.”

I sat gazing at this man about whom I head heard so much and who now appeared to be disappointingly normal and quite incapable of performing any of the heroic exploits I had heard attributed to him. “That is nonsense,” I said eventually. “What possible purpose could he have for doing such a thing?”

“How is it nonsense?”

“I have already explained all of that, Master Merlyn, and even although it makes me sound ill mannered to say so, I thought I had made myself perfectly clear. If any of what happened that night had been real—if Germanus really had come to me in a dream—he would have known that everything was changing and that he was sending me off on a useless journey.”

Merlyn sat for a moment as though weighing what I had said, and then he nodded abruptly. “True,” he said. “From your viewpoint and as you perceive it, absolutely true. But look at it for a moment, if you will, from my viewpoint. What if I were to suggest that your journey was not merely useful but necessary, and utterly unrelated to anything you have envisioned? I have been thinking about that for some time now, but most particularly since you arrived here today, and I now believe that is the truth.”

I had no idea what he meant, and seeing my incomprehension, he said, “These,” and bent down to the floor at his feet and picked up the fat leather wallet I had given him on my arrival, an hour earlier, the wallet that contained all the documents Germanus had sent me to bring to his attention. He had accepted it graciously when I presented it and had then asked for my indulgence while he scanned its contents. His examination had been cursory, for the most part, and he had set several documents aside with barely a glance, quite irrespective of the imposing bulk of some of them.

One document, however—it appeared to be an epistle several pages long—had claimed his full attention, bringing him to his feet with muttered excuses as he walked away to read it in a muted whisper in the afternoon light of the window embrasure. That document now rested securely in the folds of his long outer garment, but he had stuffed all the other papers back into the wallet that he now brandished in front of me.

“The information contained in this wallet is the true essence of your task here in Britain, Master Clothar. I suggest to you now that it is the sole reason for your being here today, far more important in Germanus’s eyes than the matter of Arthur’s coronation. I invited Germanus to participate in that event because I knew his presence would add dignitas and authority to what we did, but he and I both knew, back then, that the event would take place whether he was present or not. So …” He paused, continuing to look me directly in the eye, then began again.

“Ask yourself this. Why did Germanus send you here, to me? He could just as easily have sent you directly to Enos at Verulamium. The letter you brought to him explained everything to Enos, did it not? Anything that he asked you after reading it was born of curiosity and not of a burning need to know important details, is that not so? Am I correct?”

I nodded, unsure of where he was going with this, and he returned my nod with greater emphasis. “Aye, so here is what I believe.” He raised the leather wallet and turned it back and forth in front of my eyes. “I never gamble for pleasure, but I would be prepared to wager a substantial amount that if either Arthur Pendragon or my affairs in Camulod and Britain are even mentioned in any of these documents, it will be but briefly and in passing, to illustrate some point or other that Germanus wants to bring to my attention. For Germanus did want—and still wants—all of my attention to be focused upon what is here in this package. I have no doubt of that, and you should have none, either.”

“The letter that you read so carefully, then, was from Germanus.” I spoke it as a statement, not a question, but Merlyn answered it.

“It was. From his hands, to my eyes. When he compiled these documents, and sent you off to bring them here to me, he could have had no knowledge of how events would develop—no one could have known that, at that time, including me. And so what happens? Think about this. Here in the west, in Cornwall and Cambria, in the aftermath of our victory over implacable enemies whose sole intent was our destruction and the obliteration of everything we stand for here in Camulod, great passions were stirred up and momentous events began to unfold that could easily encompass all of Britain and change life throughout this land. And then I received word from Bishop Enos that Germanus was unable to come as he had promised, but that he had exhorted Enos to stand in his place and to organize the events surrounding Arthur’s coronation so that they would demonstrate credible, solid evidence that the new Riothamus would have the blessings and support of God’s Church in Britain to assert and reinforce his authority.” He held up his left hand, and a young man whom I had not previously noticed but who had evidently been awaiting such a signal came rushing forward. Merlyn stayed him with an upraised finger and looked at me. “Are you thirsty, Master Clothar? I am. I have been talking without rest for almost six hours today. We have mead and beer, and even wine from Gaul. I am going to have some mead, myself. What would you like?”