Jack Whyte - Uther

"Aye, it's supposed to be the length of a tall man's foot. We don't use it but I know what it means."

Herliss grinned. "We use it all the time now. The old Duke started using it first. He said it made more sense than trying to describe every distance in terms of paces, and since I've become used to using it myself, I agree with him. A hundred paces for a man's a lot farther than the same hundred paces for a boy, but a foot's an understandable unit to both of them. Anyway, the outer rampart measures thirty-five to forty feet thick. It stands about six feet high, too, with a twelve-foot-deep ditch in front of it that measures another twenty-two feet from edge to edge. The gate, then, is a narrow passageway, walled with wood and no more than six feet across at its widest point. It runs the full width of the rampart wall—that makes it thirty-live to forty feet long—and the ramparts on both sides are built up like flanking towers, with bridges stretching over the passageway from side to side. Anyone entering the place has to come in through that passage, and for anyone unwelcome, it's a long way." He paused. "The only other possibility is to light your way across the outer ditch and up the incline to the lop of the rampart. II' you get across that, you've another ditch and another rampart to go before you reach the enclosure, and may the gods of war and fortune be on your side, because you'll need them."

"Is the other ring, the inner one, the same size as the first?"

"Not quite. It's completely circular but slightly narrower—say, twenty-two feet thick. The same kind of passageway, however, lined with wood and overlooked by defenders on both sides and on bridges above. The inner circle, the living space inside the walls, is about two hundred and fifty feet from side to side, a good hundred paces no matter how you count it." He sat quietly then, gazing at Uther and continuing to scratch at his beard with one fingertip. "Why are you so interested in Lot's defences? Are you thinking of attacking them?"

Uther laughed and shook his head. "No, not at all, but I like to know what I'm up against at all times. If we drive the man into hiding, I'd like to know the odds against keeping him there or winkling him out again." He looked back to where Lagan sat listening. "I ought to have asked you sooner . . . your wife and son are well?"

Lagan nodded, "Aye, they are, and safe at home again."

Uther was unable to hide his surprise. "You leave them at home? I would have thought you'd keep them within sight of you at all times now." He knew before the words had left his mouth that they were tactless, but it was too late to recall them. Lagan, however, took no offence, but merely shook his head.

"Here in Cornwall, things are not always what they seem. In fact it is safer for me to leave my family unprotected than to keep them close by me."

"What my son means," Herliss growled, "is that Lot's madness grows more and more extreme from day to day. But as long as Lagan can willingly leave his wife and child open to the threat of Lot's displeasure, then Lot will believe that Lagan cannot possibly be plotting against his King. The truth, of course, concealed in openness from Lot's blind eyes, is that Lydda and Cardoc are better protected at any time of the day or night than is Lot himself. At the first sign of a threat to either of them. Lot's world will come crashing down onto his shoulders and his cursed head will spin on the ground between his feet. In the meantime, however. Lagan is left free to do as he wills: to go and find you, for example, and bring you here to meet with us, because Lot could never dream that anyone might be sufficiently courageous or foolish to plot against him while his loved ones are vulnerable to his venom."

"Good," Uther grunted. "How then do we destroy this pestilence, and when?"

"We have a plan for that." This was Ygraine. "That is why I decided to send for you. Herliss, will you explain our strategy to King Uther?"

Uther held up his hand. "Wait!" He looked directly at the woman sitting beside Dyllis, the one called Lydia, and then turned his gaze back to the Queen. "Lady Ygraine," he said, "I trust that no one will be grossly offended here, but I enforce a policy among my own people that I have found to be sound. We never speak of future plans or secret things when there are ears around belonging to people we do not know well enough to trust." He pointed at the woman Lydia. "I do not know this young woman here, and until I feel far more at ease here in Lot's country, I will take no other person's word, not even yours or Lord Herliss's here, on her behalf or on behalf of any other stranger." He half turned towards the astounded Lydia and nodded to her. "Forgive me, lady, but every word I say might well win back to Gulrhys Lot."

The young woman rose to her feet, pale-faced, and bowed formally to the Queen and then to the rest of the group before turning and gliding from the hall. As she did so, Dyllis did the same, after asking the Queen's permission to retire and pointing out that there was no real need for her to remain. Ygraine nodded and watched as Dyllis hurried after her companion, and as soon as she was out of sight, the Queen turned to Uther.

"That seemed excessive, King Uther."

Herliss saved him the trouble of replying. "Nonsense, child, Uther's absolutely right." The old man's voice was the rumble of an aged bear newly wakened from his winter sleep. "When that whoreson can force my own son to come against his father in fear for his son's life, then nobody can trust a soul. The girl might weep because her feelings are hurt, but she'll get over it. If that's the greatest pain she ever has to suffer through, she'll live to see her grandchildren through several generations."

Uther was looking about him again. "How can you safeguard against betrayal here? There must be half a hundred people, counting all your guards. I assumed the place would be empty and abandoned. but you marched me into this place in plain view of all your men, and we have been surrounded by people ever since I first arrived. Any or all of them could be in Lot's pay."

Herliss had sat nodding as Uther spoke and now he smiled and shrugged.

"I am not so stupid as you would think me, nor am I as foolishly trustful." He waved one hand around, indicating their surroundings. "Everyone here, each living soul, has been betrayed and savaged by Lot's treachery. Some have lost loved ones, family and friends; others have been dispossessed and banished; many have been tortured and mutilated; while others have been merely robbed and beaten. But I will swear to you, there is not a person here who would ever consider betraying us, or anything heard or seen here, to Gulrhys Lot. I have staked all our lives on that."

Uther gazed at the older man for several moments and then nodded in acquiescence. "Very well, then, tell me about this plan of yours."

The plan, as dreamed up by Ygraine and laid out by Herliss, was simple and straightforward, and it was predicated upon the likelihood of Lot's continuing to import mercenaries from beyond the seas. There were thousands of mercenaries currently in Cornwall. Herliss could not name the number, but he said it was enormous, and he was insistent, calling on Lagan to agree with him, that there would be thousands more by the following year. Lot had no shortage of armed men, the veteran commander pointed out, and that meant that he had no real need to concern himself with the loyalty or the disposition of his native Cornish troops. He believed that the superior numbers of his imported minions nullified any threat that might arrive from his own people, and so he grew increasingly arrogant, offending all his own noblemen and warriors. But he seemed amazingly unaware that he sorely lacked good leaders, generals and strategists to employ all his imported mercenaries to advantage.