Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 1 - The Fort at River's Bend

Derek collected himself and straightened with a deep sigh, looking me straight in the eye again. "There's more? Then best to give it to me quickly. How much more can there be?"

"Not much, but it is vital, and only we two, Luke and I, have knowledge of it. You will be the third, and last, to know the full connection ... how the circle closes. Arthur, I swear, will never know, nor any other, from our lips." I stopped, and glanced at Lucanus, suddenly uneasy. "Luke, if you please, make sure we are alone." He moved immediately to verify that no one was within hearing range, and we waited until he returned, nodding to me that all was clear. I turned again to Derek.

"Ygraine was daughter to your strongest ally, the Eirish king, Athol Mac Iain. She was sister to Connor and to Donuil—sister, too, to my own wife, Deirdre. So you see, the boy is Athol's own grandson, heir to Eire's Scots. He also stands heir to Lot's Cornwall, since Lot acknowledged him and never knew the secret of his true paternity. And he is even heir to my domain in Camulod, in that he is my ward—my nephew and my cousin both. All of Ygraine's kin know that she died in Lot and Uther's war, but none of them, not even Donuil, knows how she died or who killed her. So let it be, and let her rest. Ygraine is dead, she has been mourned, and her son is being protected and well cared for.

"There, if you wish to play the cynic, lies the basis of my trust in you, as yours must lie in me. I've come to know you better since then, and I believe you when you say you'd never do such a thing. But had I so wished, I could long since have used my knowledge to your ruin. You must now believe I never will, and have never contemplated doing so." I paused for a moment to give him a chance to absorb this new information. "And so! Are we at peace with this, we three?"

Once again Derek of Ravenglass heaved a great, long sigh, then stood up slowly, his hand outstretched to me. I rose, too, and shook with him, and felt my own throat clench to see the tears that stood in his fierce eyes. He blinked several times to clear them, and then spoke, gulping air to drive his voice, which came out, nonetheless, sounding infirm and shaky.

"So be it," he whispered. "I swear, on all I hold dear, that the boy will never lack a home, or safety and protection, while I breathe."

Lucanus had placed his hand over both of ours, and now he thrust down, breaking our grip in token of a bargain sealed. "So be it," he grunted, laughing. "Now may we go and eat? I, at least, am famished."

On the third day after that, we awoke before dawn to find the snow holding mastery over our new domain, drifting silently down in the stillness of the dark to lay a mantle of utter quiet upon everything. I had awaited its arrival with trepidation; we all had. Our memories of the recent evil winter were yet undimmed, and so we had prepared ourselves to face all manner of hardships here, so high in the hills. We bought up grain from Derek's people and laid in great stores of food and fuel and fodder for our beasts, all of which were safely housed beneath strong roofs. But that storm was brief, and after it had passed the air grew warm again, and the snow melted, so that we came to midwinter and a new year before we saw another snowfall. This time, however, the snow remained when the storm had passed and the air grew colder, but not lethally so.

The children had a wonderland in which to play, and the boys used the steeply sloping, cobbled surface of the hillside road as a chute. They spent entire days, once Dedalus and Rufio had shown them what to do, hauling heavy, metal shields high up towards the pass above the fort, then sliding down, perched on these precarious chariots, to where a high bank of snow, thrown up by some of the men for that purpose, checked their dangerously swift descent. Turga had been scandalized when she learned what the two men had shown the boys, and Rufio, who spent much time with her, earned the rough edge of her tongue to such an extent that he maintained a wary distance from her for days afterward.

I remember quite clearly that I was of Turga's opinion for a while, since my first sight of the activity had revealed Arthur himself, whirling like a top, his hair flying as he clung fiercely to the edging of a circular, metal-bossed shield within the curve of which he sat cross-legged. His teeth were bared in what I took to be a fearful grimace while the thing spun downward, beyond control, at a speed far greater than any horse could run. As I watched in horrified disbelief, my mouth open in a strangled shout, the thing mounted the snow piled on one side of the narrow road, shot down again and catapulted across to the opposite edge of the road, flying into the air and sending the boy, shrieking, into a snowbank. I began to run towards him, calling for help, but he leaped to his feet and began jumping up and down in glee, screaming to Gwin, Ghilly and Bedwyr, who were still high up at the top of the descent, staring down at him.

Bedwyr, whom I now saw to be holding a rectangular, Roman-style shield, immediately launched himself forward, throwing himself belly down along the thing, and shot down the incline. Feeling distinctly foolish at my own panic, I stopped running and watched the way the boy was controlling his descent, guiding the flying shield with his hands on the two leading corners and throwing his weight from side to side to steer himself at incredible speed around the bends in the road. With a clattering roar, he swept past the point where Arthur had left the road, and no sooner was he gone than Arthur was in pursuit of him, leaping into his circular chariot as soon as its surface touched the snow- packed cobblestones.

A glance upward and to my left showed me Gwin and Ghilly, following both of them at breakneck speed. But where they and Bedwyr rode rectangular shields, and could control them to a degree, Arthur's circular conveyance permitted no such mastery. I watched young Gwin approach rapidly and hurtle by until he was lost to sight, and then, shaking my head, I made my way down the bank in the direction in which they had disappeared, hearing the delight and excitement in their voices as I approached. They were already struggling back up the roadway they had just descended, but now Bedwyr had the circular shield and Arthur the heavy, rectangular scutum. They saw me and called out greetings, and I went down to where they had stopped in the roadway to wait for me.

Their faces were bright red and their eyes sparkling, but I had no thought of their being cold. They were obviously much warmer than I was, and I fancied I could even see steam rising from their skins and from their clothing. I greeted them cordially, masking my concern, then asked them where they had found the shields. At the sound of my question the faces of the three younger boys fell, but Arthur answered instantly.

"From Ded and Rufio. They showed us how to use them. The shields are surplus, Ded said. They belong to no one."

I knew the boy had beaten me. I could not forbid them to use the shields now, for to do so would amount to a public chastisement of Dedalus and Rufio, and it was clear to me the young scamp knew it. I nodded towards the circular one, which rested now against Bedwyr's leg. "That one's not Roman, where did it come from?"

"It's Erse," young Gwin answered. "It's one of the ones taken from the Sons of Condran."

"Ah, I see. You trust it, then?" I saw from their blank expressions that they didn't understand my weak attempt at humour. I looked at Arthur. "You rode it down." My glance switched to Bedwyr. "But you're carrying it up, why?"

"It's my turn!" He was adamant, and I was left in no doubt that possession of the round shield was a privilege.

"Your turn? You mean you prefer an Erse shield to a Roman scutum?"

Arthur grinned at me, his eyes dancing. "For this, yes. It's much more fun, far more thrilling. Would you like to try it, Cay? Ded's really good on it."