Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

While I knew he had no real, logical grounds for the conclusions he had drawn, I myself had taught and encouraged him to put much credence in his own, unformed convictions at times like this. "If they are, then how long will it take for them to arrive?"

He shrugged. "From Lindum to here is more than a hundred miles, closer to a hundred and thirty. That's seven days, more or less, but they set out four days ago. Bedwyr's messenger killed a horse under him in getting here to warn us. By now they'll have joined up with the Saxons, if what I suspect is true. They could be here tomorrow, if they make good time, although I think the following day is closer to the mark and perhaps, if God truly is on our side, they'll be later yet. But the same travelling speed applies to those coming up from the Weald, and they're much closer. So I've passed the word to break camp and assemble early tomorrow. We can't afford to take the risk of not being ready, Cay."

"I know that, Arthur, but my concerns are more immediate. If news of this leaks out, it could cause panic in the town and ruin everything we've planned."

"It won't get out. I've seen to that. Only my own people know, and all my troops will be recalled and confined to barracks for the remainder of the day."

I nodded my approval. "For what it's worth, now that it's done, I think you took appropriate action. Now, about tomorrow's ceremonies. I think it would be excellent for everyone were your troops able to be present for your crowning. That way, even if rumours do break out—and when did rumours ever fail to do just that?—the sight of your troopers in tranquil attendance at the ceremonies will have a pacifying effect. "

He stared at me for a long moment. "That's not possible, is it? There's no room for them, for one thing. "

"Yes, Arthur, there is. The theatre holds seven thousand people, seated. Enos's clerics counted less than five thousand there yesterday. Some have arrived late, so there may be fully five thousand there tomorrow. That leaves two thousand empty seats and ample room for another thousand standing around the walls. "

"Aye, but I have more than six thousand men. "

"Have them draw lots. Make it a privilege to attend. I guarantee they'll squabble among themselves to make sure the lots are drawn fairly. Your troop leaders should all be there, but that's not feasible. Again, have them draw lots. One officer in four to stand on duty. For your sub officers and troopers, one in every two. That will fill up three thousand places, and I'm sure we could accommodate four thousand, if the numbers work that way. Apart from the reassurance of their presence serving to disarm rumours, I'd like to see them there, Arthur, and you can only gain by having them attend. That way, they'll see you crowned by bishops, with the blessing of the Church. They'll know they have a High King as Commander. "

He sighed and nodded. "I'll think on it. About the other thing... you do approve of what I've done? I've no real reason, other than my instinct. "

I smiled at him, at the earnestness in his troubled young face. "What does it matter what I think? It was your decision and it's made, right or wrong. But personally, I believe, wholeheartedly, that it's right. "

For the first time since I had walked into his presence, he smiled back at me.

NINETEEN

As the result of a surprising and considerate suggestion from Enos, I travelled to the theatre on Easter morning disguised as one of his bishops, having exchanged my long, black cowled garments for one of their equally long if less voluminous white cowled robes. It was a chilly morning, beneath overcast skies, and as the wind bit through my ceremonial, clerical garb, I regretted the loss of my own cloak of thick black wool. But the substitution was indisputably to my advantage, for along the entire route, more than half a mile in length, no one in the watching crowds recognized me or took any notice of me, other than to gaze at the small chest I carried and wonder, perhaps, what it contained. A score more than a hundred of us walked in that silent, solemn procession, and I was the only sorcerer among the quadruple ranks. As we passed, the crowds fell into place behind us, following us towards the high outline of the great building that sat alone beyond the walls among treeless fields.

I heard some murmuring, even among the bishops, as it became plain that Arthur's entire army had been assembled on those meadows, drawn up behind its standards in regimented ranks and sitting stiffly in diligent readiness. Close by the theatre itself, the road passed through their formations and we walked forward between the masses of them ranked on either side. As the head of the procession passed, however, marked by a junior acolyte bearing a long staff surmounted by a purple shrouded cross, squad leaders shouted commands and each unit came to the salute, greeting the bishops and adding to the air of great solemnity.

I hitched the wooden chest I carried higher, tightening my grip on it. Inside, resting on a magnificent cushion that had been embroidered years before by Tressa as a gift for me, lay a crown of gold made to fit Arthur's head precisely. It was a simple coronet, no wider than my thumb—a plain, flat, golden ribbon—bearing no workings other than a small, plain cross at the front, in the centre of the forehead, and an artfully depicted knotted bow at the back, the trailing ends of which bore golden acorns. I had no notion of what the ancient Roman military crowns had looked like, but I had seen and admired the simplicity of Athol Mac Iain's golden coronet in Eire and I had copied that simplicity with confidence, setting our Colony's finest craftsmen to create it from my description.

Then, just as we were about to enter the theatre, I saw Arthur. My eyes were drawn to the scarlet and gold splendour of the cloak he wore, a cloak so distinctive and uniquely visible from afar that I had once pursued its wearer far along the coasts of Cornwall. He stood with his back to me, wide legged and elbows spread, so that the great golden dragon of his father's standard stretched its widespread wings across his shoulders. He was bareheaded, and I assumed that he cradled his helmet on his hip, beneath the cloak. Only then did I see that he was conferring with Benedict and several others, all of them travel weary and radiating tension as they listened avidly to their young leader. I recognized, too, from Arthur's posture, that something grave was afoot. I passed my burden to my closest neighbour immediately, asking him to take it to Enos, and stepped out of the procession.

Arthur caught sight of my white robe from the corner of his eye as I approached, and frowned in annoyance, his expression stating clearly that he had neither time nor willingness to concern himself with clerics at that moment. I stepped closer, and he was about to turn on me in anger when I laid my hand on his arm.

"Arthur, it's me. I changed my colours."

"Merlyn!" He swung his head to pierce me with his glare, ignoring my lame attempt at levity. "Thank the Christ you're here! We must cancel this—this affair today." He waved a dismissive hand towards the procession streaming into the building. "You'll have to postpone it, put it off, save it for a more appropriate time. I must be gone from here, right now. I was just about to issue orders to set out."

His eyes swept me from head to foot, taking in my unusual garb, but I saw no glimmer of curiosity or interest cross his face. I glanced beyond his shoulder and saw several people, including his own front ranks, staring at us with open curiosity, and I knew that some of them, particularly those among the common throng who might have been soldiers at one time or another, would think nothing of approaching us. Arthur's obviously simmering wrath might easily spill over upon such innocent provocation, I knew, and I had no desire to see such an incident occur, today of all days. I looked at Benedict, who nodded gravely to me, and then I eyed each of the others.