Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

"Or do you think he might send men to Uderic first, to talk, just as he did with you today, making a proposal to an enemy—a proposal that would sound reasonable and temperate—that they bury their differences for as long as it might take to destroy a common enemy—us, but primarily you, Merlyn of Camulod. Uderic might consider it, don't you think? He already sees you as a threat. " He stepped again, still gazing at me steadily.

"Now, if Ironhair's proposal were carefully structured, and included telling Uderic about this visit we were to receive today, Uderic might perceive Ironhair's proposal as holding two advantages for him: it would contain an offer to eliminate the threat you pose, by convincing you to retire peacefully, with no risk to Uderic. Failing that, it offers a way to be rid of you completely, citing your ambition and your arrogant refusal to withdraw from a struggle that is no concern of yours. If you withdraw now, the threat to Uderic is gone and he's lost nothing. If you remain, you'll be declared an enemy and he'll unite with Cornwall to smash you, thinking to go back and deal with Ironhair later. "

"Damnation, Rufe, you make me feel stupid!"

"Why? There's no reason to. You and Ironhair are completely different creatures. I'm not so constrained by your ideas of honour and nobility, so I can think like Ironhair. I might also be wrong."

I stared at him, trying to read his mind. "Aye, you might, but you're probably right."

"Perhaps." His face showed no trace of self satisfaction. "We have no way of knowing one way or the other—"

"But we should plan accordingly..."

He nodded. "We need a plan that will work in both eventualities, and be flexible enough to change halfway, if necessary."

"But you are adamant I shouldn't trust Uderic."

Rufio glanced from Donuil to the others, shaking his head, and then turned back to me with a wry look. "You didn't need me to tell you that, my friend. Did you? Would you have trusted him if I had not spoken?"

I shook my head gently. "No, Rufe, I would not, because I never have. I had not seen so far into the folds of policy as you have taken me, but I would not have ridden blindly into Uderic's clutches. But now, let's talk about what's likely to transpire here. I believe that, no matter what happens, and simply because Uderic is so loudly vocal in his distrust of me, he is likely to insist that our meeting be held in some place safe for him, secluded so that he can control the gathering. He's also almost certain to insist that I bring only a few men with me. He'll allow me an escort, but not a large one. I know—" I held up my hand to forestall his protest. "That opens up the possibility of treachery. I think, nonetheless, that that is the way it will he."

Benedict cleared his throat. "That ship went west, at great speed. I don't know much about these things, but it looked to me as though the rowers couldn't sustain a pace like that for very long, so they might not be going very far."

Rufio was watching him, frowning slightly. "Don't follow you, Ben."

Benedict grinned a small, unamused grin. "Be interesting to see what direction Huw comes in from. Should it be west, I'll be inclined to wear ring mail beneath my armour for the next few weeks."

Donuil spoke for the first time since he had sat down. "We'll need two groups, Cay, one mounted, the other afoot, with bows—Pendragons. You should have no less than ten men in each group, the first to ride openly, the other to follow unseen."

I looked at Benedict. He shrugged and dipped his head, pushing his palms together. "As many men as we can take, in both groups, but no less than ten on horseback. I'm riding with you, and I agree with Rufe. I think we're going to ride into treachery and betrayal, so we had best be prepared for it."

NINE

The hillside across from where we stood was a vast expanse of dun coloured bareness, with a faint wash of green here and there from the moss, lichen and occasional patch of stunted grass that maintained a tenuous hold on the naked rock. Against that background, a single, jagged patch of dark, lush green stood out like a scab, crusting a deep, vertical gash carved by the waters of the stream that fell from the summit to join the narrow river far below. Across the broad stream bed, cut deep into the rock over the course of aeons and sheltered from the prevailing winds that scoured the open hillsides, hardy, indomitable trees had rooted and grown to fill the ravine completely, their ancient trunks and gnarled boughs coated with the thick mosses that made their appearance so startlingly stark. Slightly more than halfway down the stream's chute, the midmorning sun flashed bright reflections from a cataract that leaped from the trees to fall down a short but sheer cliff face before vanishing again among the trees below.

As I watched, I saw a man come into view, balance briefly on the cataract's edge and lower himself cautiously to arm's length before leaping sideways, into the trees and out of sight again.

"That's fifty, and they're still coming, " Huw grunted.

I answered without looking at him. "Fifty seven. " And then, as yet another moved forward to teeter, lower himself and leap, "And he's fifty eight. "

Ten days had passed since Ironhair's deputation had approached us. We stood now on a hilltop close by the west coast of Cambria, screened from detection by a fringe of bushes, watching Rufio's prophesied treachery and betrayal unfolding as the long file of men made their way with extreme caution down the steep hill on the other side of the narrow valley that divided us from them.

One of Huw Strongarm's men had sat among these cautious prowlers the previous night and learned much from them. They were Ironhair's mercenaries, mainly, guided by a few Cambrian locals, and their plan was to scale the hill from the coastal side and make their way unseen down the deep ravine and into the woods along the valley bottom, where they would wait for us to cross the harrow bridge over the swift flowing river, and then seal it behind us. Huw's man, whose name was Gwynn Blood-Eye, had slipped away silently and brought the word to us immediately, travelling by moonlight for most of the night and reaching our encampment just at dawn, so that by the time the first of the Cornwall mercenaries breasted the summit across from where we now stood concealed, there was no sign of life on the valley floor below, and I was safely ensconced with my retinue on the hillside facing them.

Below us, in the valley bottom, lay the river, the confined belt of forest that lined it on both sides, and the narrow, stone arched bridge built by the legions of Paulinus four hundred years before in his campaign to wipe out Cambria's Druids. Beyond the bridge, the ancient legionary road swung north again, following the river's edge until it emerged onto a plain formed by the convergence of three valleys. More than a hundred additional mercenaries lay concealed on the flat topped hill that divided the two most northern of those valleys. We had discovered their presence the day before, thanks again to Huw's amazing hill scouts.

The design was clear: we were to ride out into the plain following the ancient road, which would lead us beneath the slopes where our murderers lay hidden. When they attacked, we would either fight or flee, and it must have seemed likely to them that we might do both, outnumbered as we would be. Those who remained to fight would die there, and those who fled would die at the hands of the group behind them, waiting at the bridge. The flaw in the design lay in the fact that they expected twenty of us to ride into their ambush, whereas they would, in fact, find fifty of us, backed by fifteen hundred more.

Rufio's suspicions had had a salutary effect on me. Everything we had planned, from the moment he had so eloquently stated his beliefs, had been designed to encompass and eliminate the threats we were all convinced would now materialize. Philip had returned quickly, summoned by Bedwyr, and had agreed immediately with Rufio's interpretation of events. Thereafter, as our plans progressed and we became accustomed to the steps we had decided to take, the scope of our thinking developed and our manipulation of events and probabilities had grown more deft, more sure handed and more confident.