Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

"The reason for my presence here in Cambria, uninvited and accompanied by my army, is quickly explained. I have but one purpose: to bring about the death and destruction of Ironhair and everything he represents. Get you then aboard your ship and take that word back to your upstart kingling. And if you should ever be unwise enough to come this way again, you will find yourself treated appropriately, the way we should have treated you today. " I turned to the guard commander. "Escort these people back to the water's edge and get them out of my sight. " I then spun on my heel and marched back inside my tent.

Bedwyr stood waiting for me there, his eyes serene, his expression resigned, his square-shouldered demeanour reflecting his decision to accept whatever punishment I might assign. I nodded to him.

"Do you understand what happened there, and why I had to turn on you?"

Whatever he had expected to hear, it was not that, and his eyes clouded with perplexity as he wrestled with my meaning. Finally he shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"They thought you were Arthur. That's why they were all staring at you. They had been talking about Carthac's claim to the Pendragon kingship, but they all knew Arthur's is stronger, and they all knew Arthur is my responsibility. Therefore, they assumed that you were Arthur. I wanted them to continue thinking that, and so when you began to speak, I silenced you. I was never angry with you, not for a moment, but I did not want you to say anything that might betray that you are not Arthur. Now, be a good lad and go and find Donuil, down on the beach. Ask him to come to me as soon as he is free."

. "He's here now, sir." The boy nodded towards the open flaps of my tent and I turned to see Donuil approaching, accompanied by Benedict, Derek and Rufio.

"Good. In that case, I have another task for you now. Go you and see if you can find something to eat, for I have not seen your jaw move in hours, and I find that most unusual and perhaps alarming." He flushed, grinning, because his amazing appetite had made him the butt of jests for months. He made to salute me, but I stopped him. "After that, when you have regained your strength, I want you to select an escort of six good men from among the Scouts, draw rations from the commissary and make your way back to the Legate Philip. You need not kill your horse with speed on the way, but don't waste time, either. Inform the Legate that I have dispatched Huw Strongarm to treat with Uderic, and inform him also of what has passed here today. Tell him I have need of him as quickly as he can bring his forces back. And the same thing applies, there, in the matter of returning. There is no crisis, so please make that clear to Philip. He may come back at route march speed, there is no need to wear out his men and horses. That's all. But eat first, before you go. That is an order. Go now, and I'll see you in two days or so. "

Bedwyr saluted me and spun smartly away, flushed again, but this time with the consciousness of his responsibility. He passed the others in the entranceway and I told them to find someplace to sit as they came in. Donuil dropped into my chair and pulled off his heavy helmet while Benedict settled himself on my wooden map chest. Rufio dragged in the chair I had used earlier from the table outside. Derek remained standing by the entrance of the tent, his hands clasped together over his belt buckle, his newly acquired Roman patterned leather cuirass making him seem even larger than he was.

"Well?" I asked when they were all settled. "Did I choose rightly?"

"I'm prepared to accept that you did. " Donuil wiped the brim of his helmet with the hem of his cloak, and then scrubbed at the sweat on his temples before tilting his head back to squint up at me. "But none of us has any idea what your choices were. One thing is certain, you left them in no doubt of your opinions about their masters. "

"Good, that's what I intended. Which way did they go, when they left?"

"West, the way they came, and they were moving quickly by the time they had made a score of oar strokes from the beach. By now they should be fairly flying over the wave tops. What do we do now?"

I glanced from him to Benedict and then to Rufio. "We hope Huw Strongarm gets back here quickly, and in the meantime we plan what we intend to do after that. Young Bedwyr is leaving now, at my orders, to recall Philip and his people from their patrol, since there's no one up there to patrol against. " I paused. "I realized something out there, while I was listening to that diatribe from Retorix. Ironhair's not as clever as he thinks he is, and he's suffering from a disadvantage he doesn't know about. "

Rufio cocked his head. "What disadvantage?"

I told them, briefly, what I had remembered about the liar's tragedy. Then, as I had expected, Donuil and Benedict sat silent and motionless, absorbing what I had said while Rufio shook his head.

"What's wrong, Rufe? You don't like my story?"

"The story's fine, Cay, and I've no fault with it for what it is, but it treats all liars as equal, and Ironhair's not equal to any common liar. Your story tempts you to think he'll be weakened by not being able to believe the truth, that you've no interest in becoming king of Cambria. So what? You might be right, but I'd hate to have to risk my life on that 'might. '"

"You think there's a more likely outcome?"

"Aye, I do. Whether Ironhair believes you or not will make no difference. to what he'll do. Ironhair is Ironhair, Cay. He sees things differently from us. Where we see white, he sees black, and a thousand oaths from men who see our way will never convince him that he's seeing wrongly. He believes his own lies because in his twisted mind they are the truth— the only truth he has ever known or will know. He doesn't give a damn about what's true or false to others. His own truth is all that counts. He'll play you false at every turn— you and every other being who steps into his way—and never lose a wink of sleep over any of it, because he believes, deep in the bottom of his own soul, that he sits at the centre of the universe and everything in the world has been created for his use and benefit. He is the Lord of Creadon in his own mind, and no one—not you, or me or anyone else— can influence that. "

This was perhaps the longest speech I had ever heard from Rufio, and his lack of profanity impressed me and disturbed me even more than his unusual eloquence. It betrayed a far greater respect for Ironhair, backhanded though it might be, than I had ever felt Rufio could possess. I made no effort to debate him.

"As you say, none can influence his mind, but he is less than perfect in his mind, for all that. He does not know, for example, that we've already sent out word to Uderic, asking him to meet with us. Now, when we do meet, which will be sooner than Ironhair could guess, I'll undo all his planning. We will form the alliance with Uderic, and between us we'll drive Ironhair and Carthac into the sea. "

"Aye, if Uderic can be trusted. "

"Why would you even say that? What we're proposing will be in his own best interests. Of course he will be trustworthy, when he knows he's having his own way to his own ends. "

"If he believes and trusts you. From all accounts I've heard, he doesn't. "

I looked at the others, hoping for some support, but they sat silent. Seeing that I had nothing to add for the moment, Rufio spoke up again.

"Look, Caius, I'm not trying to dissuade you from anything here, but it seems to me your logic isn't thorough enough in this case. You're basing everything, it seems to me, on an underestimation of Ironhair's deviousness. "

That caught my attention. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Ironhair is far from being a stupid man, and be has shown us damn few weaknesses in the past. Suppose, just suppose for a moment, that he has already thought this through. Suppose that, having seen the route he ought to take, he had the brains to guess that you might see it, too. Alliance with Uderic. Think of that. So, having thought of it, and being aware that you, too, might have thought of it, what would he do then, think you? Would he approach you with an offer, as he has, knowing that you, seeing the offer for the insult that it was, would refuse it? And would he then run to Uderic, seeking alliance the moment that you do refuse it?" Rufio paused, looking me straight in the eye, giving me time to think before he continued.