Jack Whyte - Uther

Neither of them would fail in this, Uther knew, and both of them would be not merely senior, but superior, officers.

"Tomorrow, we will go out on our first patrol." Dedalus's voice was deep and flat, his tone betraying nothing about what or how he was thinking or feeling. "It will be what we call here a patrol in strength: two squadrons, each of forty troopers, plus decurion officers and you. Each of you will ride with one of the decurion squadron leaders. You will watch him at all times and learn from him, observing how he works and obeying any commands he might issue to you. At all times, however, you will be directly answerable to me. You will do nothing without my prior approval, and that includes obeying a command from the squadron leader or taking a piss. Am I clear?"

Both boys nodded. Cay mumbled, "Yes."

Dedalus clamped his lips tightly together and inhaled deeply through his nostrils.

"Let me make myself clearer. That means that I am your Commander. It also means that each decurion is your superior, but that I am superior to all of you. It means I have the power of a living god—the Living God—over your miserable days and nights, all of them, all the time, from this moment forward.

"I have asked about you. And I have learned that you are a pair of dunghill cocks, the two of you, accustomed to crowing whenever you feel like it, uncaring that you disturb and annoy everyone about you. Well, cocks, those days are ended. You are mine now, both of you. Your daddy and your uncle—and whichever one of you is which could not concern me less—have abandoned you to me. He trusts me to make men out of you. Commanders, he suggests. I am flattered by his trust, but from what I know of you, I seriously doubt that I can do it.

"However, above and apart from all else, he has given me the power and the authority to decide whether or not you will ever be given command of troops in years to come. Therefore, I am your God, and you will treat me with the greatest of respect. You will treat me with even more respect than you extend to the Legate Britannicus. Whenever you address me, you will do so only because I have invited you or ordered you to speak, and when you speak you will address me as Centurion. You will say Yes, Centurion. You will say No, Centurion. You will say nothing more. Ever. Unless it be that I instruct you on what to say and when to say it. Do I make myself clear?"

There was half a heartbeat's space of silence, and then Uther and Cay snapped out, "Yes, Centurion!" together.

"So be it. Be outside my tent in full gear before dawn. Do not be late. Dismiss!"

Bewildered, the two young men snapped to attention, saluted as crisply as any newly trained recruits, spun on their heels and marched away in lock step, neither one of them daring to relax or slow down until they had turned a corner and put a building between them and the spot where Centurion Dedalus might still be standing glaring at them.

As soon as they rounded the corner, both boys slowed down and looked at each other wide-eyed. Nothing in their combined experiences prepared them in any way for what they had just undergone. Cay was the first to put their amazement and shock into words.

"Did I hear that man correctly? We are to be his indefinitely?"

Uther grinned, but shakily. "Aye, Cousin, that's what he said. He owns us, and your daddy has abandoned us."

Cay drew a deep breath and held it for a long count of seven before expelling it. "Well, then, we had better think carefully about that. What do you think we ought to do?"

Uther glanced around them, his gaze taking in everything. "I think . . ." he began, and then he paused, looking around him again before turning back to face his cousin. "I think we ought to spend the remaining hours of daylight looking about us at everything we can see, so that we'll be able to remember what life used to be like before we fell into this fellow's grasp . . . and then I think we should take extra-special care not to sleep late tomorrow morning."

As it transpired, the patrol might have been worse. As Cay pointed out, they might have died, somehow, in the course of it. Uther, for his part, refused to allow his cousin to shrug the experience off so easily. Death, he pointed out, would have been an improvement over what they had actually undergone.

The expedition lasted for eight days, during which the patrol rode completely around the perimeter of the Colony's landholdings, checking for signs of organized incursions by large groups of hostile interlopers, visiting each outlying farm and inspecting each peripheral guard outpost. These guard outposts were the Colony's first line of defence against infiltration and invasion, and each was garrisoned by a small force of infantry, a double-squad, twenty- man unit, which rotated twice each month, spending half the time in barracks at Camulod and the other half on outpost guard duty.

During the time that they spent in garrison, they had the companionship of others when off duty, and they could make use of the facilities of the fort and its surrounding settlement. On outpost duty, on the other hand, they were stuck with their own squad mates and left to their own devices. They were unable to leave their posts at any time during the half month of their tour of duty, since the importance of their task demanded a four-hours-on, four-hours- off system of shifts around the clock for the ten-man squad on guard each day, with the other ten on constant standby.

Sticking on post like stones in mud was how they described it. No forays into the wild woods for them, they muttered. That was reserved for the cavalry, the clean-faced, do-no-wrong boys who had everything served up to them in luxury. The poor old infantry was expected to stay close to home, to stand guard duty night and day in all kinds of weather, then do the chores, maintain the buildings and fortifications and keep the stables clean for the cavalry horses.

The garrison troops had no love for the pampered cavalry. That much quickly became clear even to Uther and Cay, and each of them made a mental note to talk about it with the other as soon as they were allowed the time to relax.

Dedalus, however, gave them no rest. The man was everywhere, indefatigable in his all-embracing mistrust of his two charges. He assigned them duties every morning and inspected them closely as they worked, sniffing and poking and carping and prying to ensure that all was done as it should be, according to his criteria of excellence. And when he saw them approaching completion of the projects he had set them, he would have replacement duties ready, announced in advance, instructions readied and presented in sufficient time to disallow the possibility of either boy stealing any rest between assignments. He kept them in the saddle all day long, ceaselessly moving in a never-ending spiral of motion that lasted throughout the normal marching breaks enjoyed by their companions, so that, to the disgust of both boys, who had believed themselves to be expert riders, when the order came to dismount at the end of each day's patrol, they both went reeling, barely able to walk upright. Only when they were in the final stages of discomfort over their natural functions each day did he allow them to dismount for long enough to relieve themselves, but even then he stayed beside them, affording them no privacy, denying them any opportunity to calm themselves or stretch their limbs. Within the space of the first four days of the patrol, both boys had learned to loathe the sight of him and to detest the sound of his carping, hectoring voice.

Eventually, however, as all things must, the patrol came to an end. Their first ordeal was over and neither of them had disgraced himself. They had taken every piece of spiteful pettiness that Dedalus could throw at them and they had chewed it up and swallowed it without overt complaint or covert whining—the latter only because Dedalus had given them no private opportunity for it. They arrived back in sight of the hill of Camulod before noon on the ninth day following their departure. As the towers of the fort came into view, Dedalus wheeled his horse around and trotted back to where they rode in formation, and then, signalling to each of them to follow him, he wheeled about again and rode to the head of the column. Uther and Cay followed him, but hung back from overtaking him, unsure of what was expected of them, until Dedalus, without looking back, raised one hand and waved them up to join him, then used both hands to indicate that they should come one on either side of him.