Jack Whyte - Uther

Nemo glanced sharply at him then, her curiosity piqued as he made a noise in his chest that almost sounded like a smothered laugh. "You know. Nemo, I sometimes thank the gods that you exist, for if you did not—" He left that thought unfinished and then resumed again immediately. "There is not another person in the entire world to whom I could confess this openly in the absolute knowledge that it will never be passed on. So here is my dark and dire secret: I would prefer to spend my entire life here in Camulod, without ever having to return to Cambria and Tir Manha. That does not sound like such a massy secret, does it? And yet it is, for if that word got out among my friends, I wonder just how many of them would remain my friends . . . I could not tell that truth even to Merlyn, because I fear he might take it amiss and see it as a threat to his designs for Camulod, thinking that I might seek to undermine him here. And I would not. Nemo, believe me. I would not.

"But this is my life's centre. Nemo, this—" He stood up in his stirrups and waved his hand broadly, indicating the entire countryside that surrounded them and the looming towers of the fortress on the hill ahead of them. 'Tir Manha has a beauty that I can't dismiss and can't deny—the sight and smells of the land move me and stir up my blood in a way I can't describe. But Camulod has become my home, far more than Tir Manha has ever been. My father and my mother lived in Tir Manha, and so did Grandfather Ullic, and because of that I returned there every year . . . But it was my mother who insisted, first and most strongly and ever afterward, that I should spend as much time as I could in Camulod. And I have always, ever since my earliest boyhood, been eager to return to Camulod when the summer waned and the weather began to change.

"And why would I not? Even you, Nemo, must resent returning home each year. Think of all we relinquish when we do . . . Think of all the things we have in Camulod that people lack in Cambria! Baths, for one thing—and bathing is one mighty, all-eclipsing thing! Hand in hand with bathing, Nemo, in a scented, wondrous silence, walks a more than pleasant absence of revolting people smells.

"And then there are hypocausts—furnace-fed hot-air ducts—and heated buildings. Floors that are warm in winter and rooms that are high and bright because the warmth coming through the hypocausts allows you to live in them without having to block all the exits and shut out all the light. And space, Nemo! Think about space—high- ceilinged vaults and room to walk about upright and at ease. You can't do that in the gloomy, low-roofed huts of Cambria."

Nemo listened in wonder. She was used to hearing him speak, but she had never heard him go on like this before, not at such speed. His voice was far more forceful, it seemed to her, than she had ever noticed before, his words appearing to rattle one against the other as they spilled from his mouth. And then, quite suddenly, he was silent again, and the only sounds to be heard were the thudding of their horses' hooves and the creaks and jingling of saddlery. She waited, and just when she was beginning to think he really would say no more, he spoke again, his voice more normal now.

"Of course, you might be tempted to ask me, if you cared at all, why it should be that my mother, who had every intention, according to Garreth Whistler, of returning to Camulod after my father's death, should have changed her mind at the last moment and decided to stay in Tir Manha. If it is really such a dreary place as I believe it to be . . ." He turned to look at Nemo.

"Are you tempted to ask that. Nemo? No, I can see you are not. Well, I'll answer it anyway. I believe my mother has decided to remain in Cambria because she fears that if she does not stay there . . . if she comes home to Camulod while I am here . . . then I might not return to Tir Manha at all and might forfeit my blood rights, my birthright and my Chief's rank and title. And there are numerous people, myself not least among them, who would say she had good reason for such fear . . . But they would all be wrong. Nemo, all of them. Because I will go back. I am going back. It may be that I am going back for all the wrong reasons a man could conjure up. But I am going back."

He stopped for a moment and then snorted again with the same smothered, ironic mirth that he had used against himself earlier. "Strange, is it not? After years of listening to Cousin Merlyn going on and on about duty and how sacred it is, often boring me to tears with his righteousness, I am now the one who is incapable of doing what I want to do because my duty forbids it. Well. . . it does, and none of it is Merlyn's fault. I must go to Tir Manha and release my mother to return to her mother, knowing that I will stay and do what I must do. I am my father's son. Nemo, and I am Ullic Pendragon's grandson and Publius Varrus's grandson, and no man among the three of those was ever known to shirk a duty or be irresponsible. I am clan Chief, and there is no escaping that, for I promised my father to take up the task and do it properly . . .

"I might not be chosen King, but by the gods, if I am not, it will not be because I was not there when the Chiefs took up their chairs. Not all the people are grim miseries, and they will need the strongest King that they can have. And I believe that means I must be King . . . at least for the duration of this war with Cornwall. After that, when we are all at peace again, who knows? I might give up the King's seat. It could be done, no reason why it could not be . . .

"Anyway, if I am to be King, we must go soon. Whistler says, and I believe him. I have a few things I need to do before we leave, nevertheless. The Dragons need a week's training, and I need to spend some time with Commander Merlyn planning strategy and future tactics for any joint campaign we might have to fight against Lot. I have a strong feeling that it will be a case not of if but of when. So, Nemo, as I see it, we will be leaving very soon for Tir Manha. If you have anything that you must do in Camulod before we leave, then see to it."

Nemo nodded her head deeply but said nothing. In her mind, however, she reviewed everything she might need to do before departing, and her list was very brief.

BOOK FOUR

The Choosing

Dear Mother,

Two weeks have gone by since they brought me word of Uric's death. Two blank, empty weeks spent in nothingness. I remember seeing Daris, the Chief Druid, approaching me that day, and I remember being frightened by the look on his face. After that, I can remember nothing until yesterday, when I saw Daris again. He had come this time to ask me when I wished to leave for Camulod, and I did not know why he would ask me such a thing.

It was then that I discovered that I have been living in some kind of waking dream. According to Daris, I have been acting normally and showing commendable strength throughout my ordeal, but the truth is that I have been aware of none of it. I know only that my husband, my beloved Uric, is dead.

Daris tells me that I have been calmly and rationally discussing leaving Tir Manha to come and live with you in Camulod. It seems strange to me that I would not remember saying such things. But yet another part of me, after a sleepless night last night, now knows that it is true.

When I first heard Daris speak of this yesterday, I had no doubt, despite my shock, that it was a fine idea and the sensible thing to do. My husband is gone, I told myself, and my son is already in Camulod. No need, I thought, for me to remain in Tir Manha—Uric's home but never really mine.

But at that moment, in making that admission to myself, all the pain of my loss came home to me and overwhelmed me. For the first time that I know of since my husband's death, I wept. And then I lay awake all night long, surprised to know that my mind was filled with unfamiliar yet familiar thoughts and even decisions.