Jack Whyte - The Lance Thrower

“We’ll take them all.”

“No, Cousin, that’s a bad idea. The more men we take with us, the greater the chance we have of being detected. Ideally, we should go in with a score of men—the best men we have. We’ll overcome the guard and lower the bridge, let our own people in. Given the surprise of our being inside the gates when it doesn’t appear possible, we should be able to achieve great things in little time.”

“What if Gunthar’s not there? The castle might be in his hands but under the control of one of his men. What then?”

“Nothing changes, except that we lose the chance to capture Gunthar. No matter. We kill or capture those inside and close the gates against the others. Let Gunthar wander about outside in the open where he thought to scatter us.”

Brach sucked on his upper lip and nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. Now we should visit Mother. She ought to be awake by now. I warn you, though, Cousin, she has taken Theuderic’s death very badly. And she has had much to bear, these past few days.”

“Aye, and I’m about to add to her burden.”

“There’s no need for you to do that, Cousin, not if it’s that upsetting to you, and I can plainly see it is. I’ll be the one to bring her the tidings of my father’s death—it’s my duty, anyway, as her son. She has to learn of it somehow, but it’s not necessary for you to be the one bringing the tidings on your return after so long away.”

I stood gaping at him. I had been so caught up in my role of messenger that I had been agonizing over how I would ever find words to tell my aunt my grievous news without endangering her regard for me and making her see me forever after as the bringer of doom and grief. Purely selfish, I admit, and not at all admirable, but I was sixteen years old and terrified of causing unbearable grief to the woman I loved most in all the world.

Brach, whom few people would ever describe as being an intuitive man, despite his self-possession, seemed to understand the thoughts teeming in my mind, for he reached out with one enormous hand and gripped me by the nape of the neck, squeezing me gently and lending me some of his great strength.

“Hold yourself still, Cousin, and leave the breaking of the news to me. I won’t even mention to Mother that you’re here, not yet. Mayhap the sight of you tonight, just after sunset, will lift her spirits, even if only for a moment. Sweet Jesu knows she will be in need of comforting, and the sight of you newly arrived might well be joyous enough to distract her from her grief, for a little while at least, and that will be a blessing. So go and find your friend Ursus and get yourselves something to eat at one of the cooking fires. I’ll break the news to Mother and comfort her as best I may, and I’ll come looking for you later, when she is asleep again.”

“Think you she will be able to sleep again today, after she hears what you have to say?”

“She will have no choice. Her physician is very wise and very learned. He gave her a potion today to make her sleep, and when its effects have worn off completely, he will administer another. She will sleep, I promise you, and it is the best thing she could do. I will come looking for you later. Now go—eat something.”

It took far longer to strike out onto the road than anyone expected. We could not start to leave before sunrise, because our horses each had to be led individually along the spine of the underwater causeway—an impossible task in darkness. As it was, Elmo and his brother Theo were chilled to the bone by the icy water and completely exhausted after leading only half of the horses and riders across, so that they had to rest and recapture some body heat before they could continue. The morning was already more than two hours old by the time the last of our thirty horses and their riders made it safely across, but fortunately it was a pleasant, sunny morning and warm enough for our soaked men to ride on wet, and they dried out gradually in the sunlight without too much discomfort.

We traveled hard and fast from that point on and within the hour had reached the steep hillside path leading up to the place where Gunthar had ambushed Theuderic’s force. A quarter of a mile away I reined in and pointed up toward the spot to show Brach where it was, but he was familiar with the place and knew already where the assault had taken place. He merely nodded to me, his face expressionless.

“You should stay down here, on the plain,” he said to Ursus, and then to me, “and you, too. The quickest route from here to the castle is to go that way”—he pointed southeast—“around the flank of that hill and keeping to the open fields, avoiding the wooded hillsides. It’s about two miles from here, give or take a quarter mile. You’ll see a pair of big old poplars as you approach the castle. You can’t miss them. You’ll turn a corner around the hillside and there they are in front of you in the far distance, standing in an open space with no other trees around them. They’re important, because once you pass them, you can be seen from the castle’s battlements.” He looked at me again, one eyebrow raised. “Of course, you can be seen by anyone from anywhere, if they happen to be looking when you show yourself, so don’t be tempted to do anything careless on the way there.

“Half a mile or so beyond where you first see the two big trees, you’ll find a shepherd’s hut made of stone. Ursus, if you are still of a mind to return home, you can turn directly to your left there and follow the only path there is in that direction—it’s a cow track, no more. It will take you back northeastward for another mile to where you’ll see the main road running east and west. Westward will take you back to Lugdunum.

“Now the two of you had better be on your way. Clothar, I’ve detailed one of my sergeants to ride with you, with five other men to serve as scouts, just in case you should ride into unwelcome company. I’m taking my main party up now to the forge. We’ll dig a grave for Theuderic and another, larger one for his men. Not much we can do about the dead horses, I’m afraid, other than leave them to stink until they disappear.”

He jerked his head in a terse nod. “So, I’ll wish you well, Ursus, and hope to see you again someday on some field more acceptable than this one. Cousin Clothar, I should be in a position to start my men digging and collecting bodies just about the time you’ll be arriving in the region of the castle. We can hope that you’ll find Chulderic and Samson in possession when you arrive, but be careful how you approach the place. Take no chances.” He paused.

“Say Gunthar has the castle. What will Chulderic and Samson have done already if they arrived to find it in Gunthar’s hands? Think you they’ll sit calmly in the shadow of his walls? They won’t attack … at least I hope they won’t. Samson would not be that hotheaded, would he? No, even if he were, Chulderic would not permit such foolishness. So where are they likely to be?”

I was shaking my head before he finished. “If Chulderic and Samson have not yet come, I’ll withdraw to the red-wall caves, where we all played as boys. Clodio will be waiting for me there, to take me in by his secret entrance. You remember the place?”

Brach nodded. “Good, that’s a good place to go, far enough from the castle to allow you to breathe in comfort without being watched. If you’re not in front of the walls with Chulderic and Samson when I arrive, I’ll come and find you at the caves. I should be no more than three hours behind you, four at the most. So, farewell, both of you.”

He pulled his horse into a turn and rode away with a loud and piercing whistle that was obviously familiar to his men, for they all put spurs to their mounts at the same time and swung into place behind him, with the exception of the sergeant and the five men detailed to ride with me. They broke out of the ranks and rode toward me.