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

I saw the hesitation in his eyes as he wondered about my reaction to his mention of the woman, and then his expression altered as he evidently decided to abandon the topic.

"The squadron of troopers. It must be close to two hundred miles from here to Camulod, and that's too far to send a mere forty men to escort a score of prime horses through unknown and hostile territory. They'd have their hands full tending to the stock if anything went wrong, and if they encountered serious opposition on the road, we might lose all of them, horses and men."

I sighed. "It was just a thought. But you're right, it would be folly. We'll have Connor bring a few mounts each time he comes this way. It will take time, but we'll have enough, eventually."

"No, no, no, Cay. You misunderstood me. I was not. saying it could not or should not be done. All I meant was that a squadron would be much too small a force. It will require at least two squadrons, supported by a maniple of infantry."

"A maniple? A full hundred and twenty men? You can't mean that, Brother."

"Of course I can. Think about it—our garrison stands at full complement in Camulod today, and we are at peace. Our soldiers need to be challenged. What better training exercise could there be than an expedition to explore the lie of the land and the condition of the people and townships, as well as the roads themselves, between Camulod and here? If they proceed in sufficient strength, they will have no difficulties winning through, and they will have to forage as they go, to feed themselves. I think it's an excellent idea. It will achieve a multiplicity of things, testing both men and officers, challenging them in every way conceivable, and adding invaluable information to our knowledge and understanding of the conditions in the heartland of the country, including the condition of the major roads.

"Camulod has great things to gain from such a venture and, as I see it, little to lose. The men dispatched will see it as a furlough—two months away from garrison duty. I can't see it taking less time than that. They won't be on a route march, but on an information-gathering expedition. We'll send clerks with them, to write down and define the matters they find and explore. And we'll send three squadrons of cavalry, two of them to return while the other one remains with you and returns to Camulod with the next expedition, for once we start this program of discovery, we'll have to maintain it, and I am sure we will wish to. I think you have come up with a superb idea. I'll put it into effect when I reach Camulod, and in fact, I'll head the first expedition myself. I'll wager my largest concern will be in choosing from among the volunteers."

"Excellent! So be it. I'll be looking forward to the first arrivals."

I felt absurdly pleased with myself, and my chest swelled in pleasurable anticipation as I looked about me again, quite openly and brazenly this time, in search of Tressa. As I found her, I saw Shelagh watching me, a tiny smile on her lips. So intent was I on Tressa, however, that the sight of that small, knowing smile did not disturb me nearly as much as it might have. I was euphoric and carefree and unheeding of restraint or common sense. For reasons that I cannot quite define now, even after having thought of them at various times during all the years that have passed since that night, my mind was set upon the straightforward contemplation of an alluring and provocative woman. A woman who, my intellect informed me, would be more accessible than Shelagh and much more amenable to being approached.

I do believe, in fairness to myself, that I might have experienced some short struggle with that strait-laced part of my inner self that had made so much, in recent months and years, of my need to seek and achieve celibacy and self-mastery, but if that was the case, it was a short-lived struggle. I felt young and virile at that moment, charged with a young man's potent imperatives. Then Luke's voice drifted to me from farther down the table, and I resolved to speak with him again, and soon. I turned back to the conversation at the table, and Tressa passed from my sight, but not from my thoughts.

TWELVE

"Well, Brother, what do you think?"

We were standing side by side, huddling half out of the wind and rain beneath the gabled eaves at the eastern end of the roofed stable, across from the barracks block in which I lived. The storm had raged all night unabated. As we watched our companions making their final preparations for the journey into Ravenglass, it was already considerably more than an hour after dawn, although only our minds told us the truth of that. There was little evidence that the sun had, in fact, risen. At that moment we were surrounded by a freakish and impenetrable fog: roiling, billowing masses of low, heavy clouds, churned by the howling wind, obscured everything from view beyond a score of paces in any direction; their density and volume safeguarded them against the fury of the gale, which would otherwise have shredded and scattered them to nothingness.

Ambrose said nothing for long moments, but then, when he did answer me, his response seemed contradictory to his obvious intent.

"I think we must be mad even to be considering leaving for Ravenglass now, in this weather. Even if he arrives on time, Connor will never be able to approach the harbour in a wind like this. He'll be forced to ride out the storm at sea and won't even think about coming inshore until the thing has blown itself out. When that happens, we'll know about it as soon as Connor does, since we are no more than twelve miles inland, and by the time we travel from here to there, he will be approaching anchorage and our reunion will be timely and opportune."

"But ... ?"

"But what? No buts, Cay. You asked me what I think and I told you—"

"Aye, and I could hear your reservations." I leaned close to him, shouting into the wind that had suddenly swelled to howl around and between us. "You are thinking about the fact that everything is ready now, for departure, and we spent much of last night making it so. And you're influenced by the fact that so many of our people are up and astir already, dressed for the weather and prepared to defy it, cheerfully or otherwise."

The wind dropped away again, leaving me shouting at the top of my voice. Germanicus sidled nervously. I curbed, him tight and continued, moderating my tone. "And on top of all that, you're angry at the weather itself, determined not to let it beat you. You don't want to let it push you into a position that you might later see, in your own mind, as weakness."

As I finished speaking my brother turned towards me in mocking disbelief, his mouth hanging open in exaggerated awe. "There you go again," he said. "You and your foreknowledge! How could you possibly know that? How could you know what I was thinking?"

I laughed outright at him and punched him on his mailed arm. "Idiot! You know as well as I do I've been thinking exactly the same things. I'll wager most of the others have, too. Each one, if you ask him, will probably admit that he has been thinking, longingly, about his warm bed, wishing he had stayed in it this morning instead of dragging himself out here to face a long, cold, wet and windy journey when there's really no need for it."

At this point, protected as we yet were under the stable's roof, everyone and everything was still fairly dry, although tousled and wind-blown. Only Ludmilla and Shelagh were missing, remaining sheltered indoors until it was time to leave. The others, a surprising number, had chosen to escort the Lady Ludmilla and her husband to meet the Eirish galley that would ferry them from Ravenglass back to the coastline close to Camulod. Dedalus, Rufio, Donuil and Lucanus were there, all of them wrapped, like Ambrose and me, in the dense, heavy, horsemen's cloaks of woven and waxed wool that were made to uniform specifications for all troopers by our weavers in Camulod. Arguably the most valuable foul- weather garment any of us owned, these military cloaks were modelled on those worn for hundreds of years by Roman legionaries, but had been redesigned to cover a mounted man warmly and completely, with a heavily draped, ample back that flared out to spread capaciously over the back of a horse, keeping the saddle, and hence the rider's buttocks, dry and protected.