Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

The small fleet approached as close as it could to the" shingled beach which, at low tide, appeared to stretch full half the way to Gaul. Then came a period of intense activity as tiny boats were lowered and men scrambled aboard them to be rowed ashore. Watching, it occurred to me to be grateful that the sea was calm, for the process that took half an hour might well have been impossible to attempt at all had the water been rougher. I watched the first three laden! boats approach the strand and saw the people waiting there surge forward to greet the newcomers, and I held up my hand in a needless warning to my companions to wait where" we were. We had travelled far to be here on this day, but we had ridden. The people there below us had all walked.

Had we moved forward then, our advent would inevitably and unjustly have commandeered all attention and deprived those waiting afoot of any opportunity to greet the man they had come to welcome.

My eyes picked out Germanus immediately, but my heart surged into my throat when I saw the changes in him since we two had last met. Then, I had seen the former legate of Rome's armies, a stalwart, clean shaven man in his fifties, strong and agile, thick in arm and leg, with cleanly muscled, vise like thighs that could clutch a horse's wide back without effort. That Germanus of Auxerre had been a general who had chosen to become a man of God. The man I beheld now, albeit from a distance, was a man of God who bore no resemblance to a soldier. And he was an old man, with a flowing, snow white beard. He saw me and raised a hand in greeting. I waved back, but made no move to approach, content to allow him to conclude his greetings to his friends and followers, every one of whom genuflected and kissed the hand he extended to them. Some few embraced him after that, when they had straightened up again, but most simply moved aside to make way for someone else.

Behind me, a horse whinnied and stamped noisily, apparently stung by some insect, for there was a scuffling surge of movement as several people reined their horses aside and fought to bring them back under control. I kept my eyes on Germanus, my mind racing back over the years. It had been the summer of 429 when we last met, the year Cassandra was killed. Two years later, in 431, Arthur had been born, and he was now sixteen, so eighteen years had passed. Germanus must now be close to seventy, and ruefully, I reflected that I myself, who had been under thirty then, was now forty-six.

"Will you go down to him?" Tress had moved forward; to flank me on my right.

"Soon, now. He knows we're here. He'll let us know: when he is ready. "

As I spoke, the activity centred around Germanus died away as others in his party now bore the brunt of greetings, and for several moments the bishop stood alone. Some other cleric approached him then, wishing to speak, but Germanus waved him away and looked up to us on the crest above. His face broke into a smile as he raised a hand to wave us forward. I eased Germanicus forward down the sloping beach, but he was skittish on the pebbly surface, so I quickly dismounted and left him there, ground tethered, alongside the white gelding, as I strode down towards my old friend. I dropped to one knee, extending my hand to take and kiss his in the offering of Christian peace. He allowed me to do so, but then he pulled me to my feet and embraced me as a dear and long unseen friend, surprising me with his strength. Briefly then I introduced him to my companions, and then to the other officers, introducing each by his rank. Germanus greeted them with gentle pleasure, finding a different word or two for each and thanking all of us for the trouble we had undertaken on his behalf.

Behind us, farther down towards the water, the orgy of greetings and salutations had died down and the entire crowd had quieted to form a silent, semicircular audience, watching what was transpiring between us and their leader. Germanus turned to face them, raising his voice and his arms at the same time to capture their attention before he; realized that everyone was already staring at him, waiting for his words. He lowered his arms immediately.

"Dear friends, it heartens me to know that by these signs and portents, God is indicating His pleasure in the lightness of the sacred cause that brings us here to Britain. He has sent perfect weather to accompany us on our journey across the sea and to ensure that we arrived on the appointed day to find all of you waiting here to greet us. Most of all, however, He has seen fit to reunite me with my friend here, Caius Britannicus, who saved our lives when first we came to Britain almost two decades ago, escorting us to Verulamium, and has now returned to escort us once again, although this time in vastly greater strength and at our invitation.

"You will meet him and his friends, all of you, in the time ahead, for the road to Verulamium is long and might well have been beset with perils, had our friends from Camulod not come to see us there in safety. For the time being, our escort sits above, full armoured, in the sun, awaiting our passage. It would be uncharitable to cause them to remain there in discomfort longer than they must. So please, let us move onward for a space. " He paused and glanced at me. "How far? Where will we camp tonight?'

"Close by. Less than a mile from here. It seemed to me good sense that you would wish to rest at least one day after your crossing, so we have made arrangements to set out tomorrow, and by the time we reach the encampment, our commissary should have a welcoming meal prepared for you. For everyone, including those who came to meet you. Think of it as a reward for coming so promptly. My men think of it that way, for they never receive a hot meat meal in the middle of the day, except upon the most effulgent of occasions!"

"Wonderful. " He passed on this information to his people and then beckoned with his arms, inviting them all to move forward. As he did so, I looked more closely at what he was wearing and saw that his long robe was split vertically from the waist, and that beneath it he wore leather breeches and serviceable, highly polished leather boots. As he turned back to me I grinned at him and took hold of his left elbow, prompting him to walk with me.

"I'm glad to see you still garbed as a rider, Bishop. You wrote to me once that you had not ridden a horse in years. "

"I did, and promptly realized that I had shown ingratitude to God, committing the sin of pride by presenting myself as too busy with His affairs to take time for His pleasures. I set out to rectify that immediately and had reconditioned myself to the saddle before you ever read that letter. I have been riding ever since. Have you a horse for me?" He was leaning into the slope of the beach as we moved! upward.

I laughed. "Aye, Legate Bishop, I have. But it is saddled, ! with stirrups. Can you ride thus?"

He stopped walking for a moment and laughed back at me, very slightly short of breath from the effort of walking!; on the pebbles. "Need you ask? Bear in mind, if you will,, that the first stirrups that you ever saw crossed from Gaul into Britain. You adapted them then, and once having seen your stirrups and the power they bestow, how could any Gallic rider fail to copy them? One of my brethren made drawings of your saddles before we left Verulamium, anfrom those the remaining details, the making of them was simple to achieve. So yes, I ride the way you do. "

"Alleluia, " I responded, and he looked at me sharply, his head tilting to one side. "Ah, so you've heard of that, have you? Does it vex you?"' 'The Alleluia Victory? How could it vex me, Bishop? I was there, don't you recall?" I was smiling as I spoke, and he brightened visibly. I nodded towards the white gelding. "Will that suit your purposes?" His eyebrows shot up as he looked at the magnificent!