Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

As I say, I expect that to change very soon. My own analysis leads me to suspect that, in terms of his rumoured strength, the ten thousand estimate might be more accurate, and even short of the mark. I base that upon my own evaluation of his immediate fighting requirements, taking into account the vastness of the territory he has to contain: the area we call the Saxon Shore, directly southward of his base. Recent, reliable reports gathered by Vortigern indicate that the Saxons in the south grow stronger and more numerous every year. The fleets arriving annually are growing larger, bringing hordes of land hungry Outlanders to swell the numbers already here, and new fleets are coming, too, from new directions, as the word of land for the taking spreads among the tribes of the Germanic territories that the Romans held underfoot for so long. There is nothing to hold them now, with the Roman restraint abolished, and they are sweeping into Britain in multiplying thousands each year, claiming and clearing land and spreading outwards all the time from the boundaries they held the previous year.

Much of that outward spread nowadays is focused northward, in order to keep the sea within their reach, for these are all seafaring tribes; that means Horsa has his hands full, at present, in beating back these incursions, and he has neither the time nor the resources to cast his eyes backward at Vortigern's kingdom. But the enemy is being constantly renewed and resupplied, and I believe that Horsa must soon fall back into Vortigern's domain, in order to establish a new line that he can hold against the incursions from the south At that point, the northward surge may flag and stop, but the expansion will then seek other outlets, and in the meantime, Horsa's army will be cheek by jowl with Vortigern's.

I greatly fear we may have grown complacent in our western Colony, assuming a safety that is spurious, simply because we are removed from sight and sound of these upheavals. Numbers of such vastness as those reportedly pouring into the eastern lands will not be long contained, because, extensive as the Saxon Shore may seem to us in Camulod, it cannot long sustain the kind of crowding that is occurring now, and the time must soon come when the exploding growth must spill out into other regions of Britain. It follows logically that any such spillage must be to the west, towards us.

How goes the Cambrian campaign, I wonder. It is much in my thoughts, because I now fear that the war against Ironhair and Carthac is by far the lesser of the problems facing us; a local squabble when compared to the threat stirring here on the other side of Britain. Because of the seriousness of my concern over matters here, I have decided to look into things myself, and that will mean extending my stay here by not less than a month, in order to undertake a wide ranging and fast moving sweep of the southern territories. I do not intend to linger anywhere during that manoeuvre, nor will I seek conflict. I simply intend to demonstrate our presence and potential force, as allies of Vortigern, and to gain a clearer understanding at first hand of the forces that may be ranged against us in the future. In the meantime, lam sending this dispatch in the hands of Paul Sulla, to forewarn you.

Vortigern, as we surmised he might, wants me to remain here in the north for an extended time, but I have already convinced him that I must return to Camulod as soon as possible. I have, however, promised to return next year, in even greater strength. I am convinced that this is the proper and appropriate course to adopt, and I am equally convinced you will agree, once you come to understand the gravity of what I have discovered.

Two alternative courses lie open to us next year, as I see it: if the Cambrian war is concluded, you and I will ride up here together; if it still drags on, however, then I will conduct it while you come north to form your own opinion of matters here. I consider that need—for you to come here personally—to be imperative. I see enormous danger here, the potential for great and dire conflict, and that has forced me to reconsider most of the beliefs I once questioned in you, when I thought you guilty of unwarranted xenophobia. Ironhair and Carthac and their like may be contentious and intractable, but I now see that they are Celts like us, our own people in the final analysis. The threats we face from the seething hordes now investing this northeastern land, on the other hand, might well culminate in the annihilation of our people and our very way of life in Britain, should we not take timely steps to counteract them.

I shall return to Camulod as soon as I am able. If you are then still in Cambria, I shall join you there. In either eventuality, I will have far more information by that time than I possess now.

Farewell, and may the gods of war smile upon your army.

Ambrose

I sat motionless after the first reading of that long, astonishing missive, allowing its tone and tidings to settle themselves within my mind at their own speed and making no attempt to analyse what Ambrose had actually said therein. I knew that anything else, any reaction I permitted myself at that time, would be ill considered. I wished to reread the letter several times and then think the entire situation through in detail before I spoke of it to anyone else. And then, knowing how my own mind works, I turned to Dedalus's dispatch, trusting myself to work on Ambrose's information while I digested Ded's.

I opened the cylinder and broke the plain seal on the document. As I might have expected, Ded wasted no time on salutations or frippery but came straight to the point.

Cay:

Young Paul Sulla arrived today, on his way to find you and deliver dispatches from Ambrose, so I am sending this with him. He is preparing to leave now, so I have little time. I have no idea what Ambrose might have said to you in his dispatches, but from the few hints I have squeezed out of young Sulla, I gather he will not be back as soon as he had thought, and also that there is more going on up in Northumbria than we might have suspected. At least Vortigern is still alive, and Sulla said nothing of war.

This now in relation to your arrangements for the build up of new, allied forces outside Camulod: the expedition we had planned, one hundred strong, went out to Nero Niger Appius and Corinium within the first week after you left, and it has met with great success. Corinium is now alive again, with people living behind its walls and the beginnings of a garrison undergoing training with our men. Early reports seem confident, although I continue to have doubts about making soldiers out of farmers and peasants. Those doubts are my own, however, and I am prepared to be convinced of my error.

Two similar expeditions have gone out since then, one of them to the next town north of Corinium. It had no name, or if it ever did it has been long forgotten. Our people are now calling it Secunda. The third expedition went to Tertia—as you might expect—another nameless old marching camp fortification to the south of us, some twenty miles west of Lindinis. That was unexpected, but a delegation arrived here one day, prompted by the success of the Corinium plan. Someone from the Tertia region had been up there and spoken with Nero Niger, and had returned home filled with enthusiasm. Apparently Tertia is good farm country and well populated. I took the matter to Council, and they approved, so Tertia was launched, and I am told that in the space of less than two months they have progressed as far as the Corinium people have in four.

Now there are two more expeditions being prepared, both of them bound for similar places with no name, but with the remnants of old Roman walls in place and fertile fields nearby.

Your plan for this region is working, my friend, no matter what frustrations you are facing where you ate. I thought you might be glad to know that.