Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

"My people. "

"I knew that, since I presume only your own people would care to own you. Who are your people? That is what I am asking you. "

He drew himself up, his bearing expressing outrage. "The Romans called them the Belgae, the people of Cornwall. "

I stared him in the eye. "The Romans are long since gone. Their day is past. We are Britons. Would you like to know what we call the people of Cornwall nowadays, the people who would submit to the will of such a thing as Peter Ironhair?' I looked away from him, making no effort to disguise my disgust, and then swung back. "My adjutant tells me you have words for me, but I have little time to listen, so spit out what you have to say and then be gone. "

I could see the fellow growing angrier with each word, but he reined himself in and breathed deeply through his nostrils several times before beginning to speak. "You are Merlyn of Camulod, am I right?'

"What of it?'

I saw his eyes move beyond me to where Bedwyr stood at my back, and as I watched his eyes flick up and down, scanning the boy from head to foot, I had a sudden certainty that he thought Bedwyr was Arthur. He had looked at no one else but me since I appeared. He quickly brought his gaze back, however, and try as I might I could discern no sign of interest in the boy in his eyes.

"I bring greetings from my leader, Iron—"

"Then you may take them back with you. I have no wish for diem."

Again he stopped, visibly restraining his anger. "I have a charge upon me, Master Merlyn! Will you permit me to deliver it without being interrupted at every word?"

I stared at him, feeling a reluctant stir of admiration for his self command. Donuil had named him an arrogant blowhard, but I had seen nothing so far to suggest that. "Very well, I will. Say what you have to say to me."

"Ironhair sends his greetings as one leader to another. You as Legate Commander of Camulod, himself as Supreme Commander of the Armies of Cornwall. He will not insult you by pretending that friendship could ever exist between you, nor will he claim that you might negotiate together based upon mutual esteem. But he believes you will acknowledge that both of you, and those associated with you, have much to gain from a cessation of this war." He paused, evidently expecting some kind of response, but I continued to stare at him, allowing no expression to show on my face. Eventually he had no choice but to continue.

"Your presence in Cambria is an intrusion, he believes, while his activities here are legitimate. He represents your distant kinsman, Carthac, whose claim to the vacant kingship of Pendragon is the strongest, claimed through the line of direct parentage." He could not resist the temptation to glance again towards young Bedwyr. It was the merest flicker of movement, quickly controlled, but it verified what I had thought before. Unfortunately, his companions were less disciplined than he, because they all looked at the boy, too, so obviously that even Bedwyr noticed their interest. I heard him start to speak and swung abruptly around to cut him short.

"Why are—?"

"Be quiet, boy!" Bedwyr's eyes flew wide with shock at the harshness of my voice. I stood motionless, my back to the others, until I had his eyes on mine, and then I winked at him before continuing in the same, harsh tones. "Are you mad? How dare you raise your voice when I have guaranteed no interruption? Get you into my tent immediately and stay there until I send for you. Move!"

The poor lad took one step backward, his confusion and embarrassment taking him visibly to the edge of tears, and then he drew himself together, squared his shoulders, turned smartly about and marched into my tent, closing the flaps behind him.

I swung back to the others. "You may continue, and no one will interrupt you further. You were speaking of Carthac. " I moved my eyes slowly around my men, making no attempt to disguise the anger in them. The source of my anger, however, was the intolerable hubris of what I was listening to. When my gaze came back to him, Retorix was watching me closely, his eyes boring into mine, and I wondered if I had managed to disguise my recognition of his interest in Bedwyr—Arthur, as he believed the boy to be.

Finally he nodded, cleared his throat and continued speaking. "Cardiac's father was Mor, youngest brother to Uric Pendragon, father of Uther. Carthac has requested, and enlisted, the aid of Peter Ironhair to help him claim his kingship, and so Ironhair is here in Cambria. Your presence, on the other hand, is unsolicited by anyone. Dergyll ap Griffyd, with whom you once had dealings, is dead, his so called kingship taken by the usurper Uderic, who is no friend of yours. Your army therefore stands as an invading force, a status both amplified and verified by the fact that none but a few of the Pendragon have joined you. They seek no help from you in settling their affairs. In fact, they believe themselves to be quite capable of resolving their differences without your interference. " Again he paused, gathering his thoughts before proceeding, and as he did so I tried to empty my mind of his reference to Uderic's being a usurper. Ironhair would say so, of course, but Uderic had won his tide in battle, leading his people in their war against Cardiac's attempt at usurpation. Retorix spoke again.

"My Commander's proposal, in outline—to be expanded to your mutual satisfaction later—is this: he believes that you perceive his presence here in Cambria to be a threat against your own security and safety in your Colony of Camulod. He suggests that there is no such threat, and that his presence hoe is temporary, dedicated only to the swift success of the campaign he is waging on behalf of Carthac Pendragon. When that has been concluded, Ironhair will withdraw his forces into Cornwall once more, content that he has a strong ally in Cambria to the north and, conceivably, an ally of convenience in Camulod to the northeast—yourselves.

"You, on the other hand, would benefit greatly by being free of involvement in the affairs of Cambria, since that would enable you to give your full attention to the emerging threat from the Saxon territories to the east and north of you, and even to extend terms of alliance and cooperation to the king, Vortigern, in Northumbria, should you decide it prudent to protect your interests in that way. As for your peace of mind over Cambria, Ironhair suggests that a precedent already exists for taking care of that: a patrolling force of your cavalry, much like the one that formerly assisted Dergyll ap Griffyd, could be established and maintained as a safeguarding buffer between Cambria and Camulod. That force would be recognized and permitted to function without interference. "

At several points I had turned away from Retorix, taking great pains to do it casually and feigning interest in the conduct of my motionless troopers, in order to school my features more rigidly. The news that Ironhair was aware of our involvement with Vortigern, and of the threat from the Saxon Shore, came as a revelation, despite the fact that I already knew how wide a net Ironhair was capable of casting. The information about Uderic—that he was no friend of mine—was less surprising, since Uderic made no secret that he was suspicious of my motives in being here. It was his specious championship of Carthac that was hardest for me to bear without protest, however much I tried to tell myself that I was listening to mere words, designed to keep me off balance and distracted from taking another course. That angered me, because the course itself remained unclear to me. The suggestion, even by omission, that Ironhair could see it more clearly than I could, and that he could move against me to block it even before I saw it, was infuriating.

There was also the matter of Arthur. Ironhair knew about Arthur—his blood lines, his paternity, and therefore the primacy of his claim to the Cambrian kingship. Our move to Mediobogdum had been the result of one assassination attempt on the boy, fomented by Ironhair himself. Now ' that I was back from my long disappearance, it was presumable that I would keep the boy close by me. Retorix and his companions had clearly been warned to keep a lookout for the boy who would accompany me, and their reaction to Bedwyr told me they knew Arthur's age but had no idea what he might look like.