Jack Whyte - The Saxon Shore

Dedalus grinned again and shrugged elaborately. "As I said, Commander, it was but an errant thought. I had dismissed it—for all those same reasons— when you noticed me smiling. Now I'm glad that you concur with me."

His outrageous impudence brought a storm of laughter and the meeting broke up immediately with good-natured muttering and smiles. I turned to thank Achmed Cato, who yet had several hours of duty ahead of him, and then found Ambrose by my elbow.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked him.

"I'm going back to my cot, what else? I'd been asleep for barely half an hour when I was summoned. What about you?"

I thought about that. I was not even slightly tired. "Records," I said. "I've been asleep for hours, ever since I got back, but I have not made an entry to my journal in weeks. An hour or two of that will make me tired again and bring me close to dawn. Is everything prepared for tomorrow's proceedings?"

"Aye. The camp on the plain has been prepared and everything is ready. Dedalus will speak to the troops."

"Dedalus? Are you serious, Ambrose?"

"Think of it, Cay; Ded is the perfect man for this task on this day, a well- known and respected veteran and one of our senior field commanders, popular with all the men, both cavalry and infantry, yet known for his ferocious discipline. When he talks, the men will listen, and they'll hear what he is saying more clearly than they would were it you or I addressing them. We are relative outsiders at this time, the two of us; I because I am a new arrival, and you because you've been so long 'away' in terms of your illness. Ded is one of them, and they love him."

It took me several long moments to accept and digest the truth, but I accepted it completely in the end. "So be it, then. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

XXII

As I made my way back to my quarters my mind was filled with apprehension at how suddenly a potential war with the Pendragon had developed. It had seemed inconceivable to me, before that night, that enmity could spring up, for any reason, where such warmth had once prevailed between my own people here in Camulod and those others, equally my own, in my cousin Uther's kingdom. My single source of satisfaction from the experience of the past hour lay in my growing appreciation of my brother's perspicacity and natural leadership, and that had been an incidental, almost irrelevant awareness. I found myself praying that Ambrose would have no cause to demonstrate those skills in civil war.

I was crossing the torchlit entranceway of the Praesidium heading down into the darkened courtyard on the way to my own quarters, when I heard my name called and turned to see a heavily cloaked figure waving to me from the other side of the walkway. It was Lucanus, swathed in a long, black cloak like my own. He told me he was on his way to the Infirmary, where the wife of one of the Colonists was in labour and not expected to have an easy time. This would be the woman's third child, he told me, and each of the other two had been breech presentations, causing great difficulties for the mother and resulting in the deaths of both children. This time, Lucanus informed me, he was prepared to deliver the child the way Julius Caesar had been birthed, by cutting it alive from the mother's womb. I shuddered at the thought and for a spell we walked side by side in silence. It seemed to me that the night had grown colder while I was in the Watch Room with the others, and I said so to Lucanus. He agreed with me and muttered something about it being cold enough for snow, at which I scoffed, pointing out that we were only in November. We arranged to meet again later and spend some time together, and I left him at the entrance to the Infirmary, then hurried on to my own quarters, glad to find a brazier still glowing in the darkened room. It took me mere moments to blow on the coals and light a spill with which I lit an array of candles. I replenished the fire, and only then unfastened my cloak and hung it from a peg.

I lost track of time very quickly, caught up in the absorbing task of bringing my daily journal up to date from the brief notes I had written during the past few weeks. My Eirish recollections were exactly that—recollections. I had had neither writing materials nor time in Eire for recording events and ideas, even though I was aware at all times how important such a record might prove to be. Now, in the darkness of this single night, I emptied my mind of all my memories of the voyage, committing them to paper. Twice, I recall, I rose to throw more fuel on the fire, spurred in each instance by the chill that numbed the fingers of my writing hand.

Ambrose finally interrupted me, timing his arrival perfectly to coincide with my own decision to call an end to my efforts. The door burst open suddenly and he was there, admitting the pearly radiance of early day and a blast of cold air together.

"Thought you might still be here. It's time to eat," he said, by way of greeting. "Come and see this."

"This" was a scattering of snow upon the paving outside my door. I looked, and shivered, and went back inside, digesting the implications of this dusting of whiteness as I struggled to pull on my heavy cloak.

"That's wonderful, simply wonderful," I snarled in disgust. "All we really need, this day of all days, is snow! With an expedition to organize and a full parade to conduct in the meantime. Everyone is going to be enchanted."

Ambrose had been squinting up at the sky as I spoke, and now he began to stride towards the refectory. I fell into step beside him. "It was probably no more than an early flurry," he answered me, after a few moments. "It is only November, after all. Had it not been for this sudden cold snap, it would have fallen as rain. It'll pass over and clear up and what's here will melt, so there's no point in fretting about it. I'm hungry."

We turned a corner and a sudden blast of icy wind cut through me as though I were naked. I cursed aloud, feeling put upon and abused. "What if it doesn't?" I complained. "What if the damned snow stays?"

"Then there's no point in fretting about that either, is there? If it stays, it stays. We'll have a chilly parade this afternoon, in that case, but providing no more falls, the expedition can proceed as planned." He stopped walking suddenly and swung to face me, his face splitting into a giant smile. "But what if it really snows, eh? Think of that! What if it snows and snows and drifts and blows? Then we will all be stuck here until it thaws, save for the poor swine who must return to man the outposts before the storm really sets in. But we'll be safe, because our inability to move will be duplicated everywhere. The high hills and passes will be snowbound and blocked off, and the forest roads will be impassable."

I frowned at him, unable to grasp what he was saying, hearing only his evident delight about being walled within the fort by snow. "So what?" I asked him, finally. "Would you enjoy such enforced idleness?"

"Idleness? Opportunity, Cay! I won't go as far as to say I'd enjoy it, but by Cod, I could certainly put it to good use. A solid block of time, free of all outside threat, to solidify the changes we intend to make, and give all our people time to work together on the new order? Don't tell me you would not be grateful for such a godsend."

I would have been, of course, but I had not made the connection as quickly or as intuitively as he had. My admiration of the focused way his mind worked increased yet again. I glanced back to the sky, this time almost with regret. "Now that you point it out, I would. But as you say, it's still only November. This snow is two months early. I doubt that we could be so fortunate as to have it stay now, when we could use it so effectively. Let's hurry, I'm hungry now, too."