Jack Whyte - The Saxon Shore

"Well," I said, "there's your answer, my friend. They, whoever they are, are systematically stripping the buildings and transporting them."

"But why? What's to be gained from that? And where would they take them to?"

"There's wealth to be gained, Donuil, great wealth, I would think. Marble is the most valuable building material in the world. Now the Romans are long departed, and entire towns like this are lying abandoned, so someone has had the bright idea of dismantling them, the public and sacred buildings, at least, and shipping them to where they can be put to use by people rich enough to want to build that kind of thing elsewhere, probably in Gaul, across the water."

Donuil was gazing at me in wonder. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, although I can see why it would make no sense to you or me or any of our people. These, however," and I nodded to the signs of pillage all around us, "are not our people. These are scavengers. Do you know what locusts are?" He shook his head and I smiled. "Well, I've only read about them, but they are a kind of grasshopper in Africa, and they fly in swarms so dense they can black out the sun at noon. They consume everything in their path and leave nothing behind them but destruction. That's what you're looking at here. The work of human locusts. They'll strip this land of ours until nothing remains but the hills and the trees."

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't doubt the truth of it, but I'll never understand it. It seems insane."

"Oh, it's sanity, of a kind. Do you remember the Carpe Diem, in Verulamium?"

"The tavern? Aye, what about it?"

"We called it the Carpe Diem because of what it signified, and the shortness of its life. It was open for less than a month, you know, but its owner earned a lot of money during that time."

"Aye, but he provided a good service."

"Of course he did, I'm not denying that. But Carpe diem means 'seize the day'. . . grasp the opportunity now, while it's available. Do you see what I mean?" He shook his head again, his eyes still troubled. "Donuil, thousands of people descended on that deserted town within a matter of weeks to attend the great debate. The Carpe's owner—I think his name was Paulus or something like that—saw and grasped the opportunity to profit by it. He opened a hostelry and enjoyed a thriving business while it lasted."

"Aye? So did a dozen others."

"That is exactly my point, Donuil: there will always be a breed of men who can take any circumstance and turn it into profit. And that's why these . . . these people, are here, dismantling Glevum. They're taking fortune where they find it. They'll probably spread their activities outward, eventually, to the abandoned villas all around, and unless someone does something to discourage them, sooner or later they'll come swarming towards Camulod like dung flies."

Donuil thought about that. "I understand," he said at length. "But what I don't understand is why they would attack us like that, over a pile of stones? Why would they think we might want to steal their silly stones?"

"Because they perceive those stones as having monetary value, Donuil; great value, too, probably greater than you and I could imagine, judging from the number of people involved. They must have purchasers lined up somewhere, awaiting delivery. And even though their stolen cargo might be worthless in our eyes, they would kill us out of hand to protect it. Come on, we had best rejoin the others."

Two hundred paces farther on, just as the track we were following began to ascend the hillside, we found ourselves surrounded yet again, before we had any intimation of danger. A circle of men, many of them holding pulled bows, stood up out of the long grass all around us. Perhaps because of what we had just survived and our reaction to it, all of us were caught completely unprepared. My heart pounding in consternation, I cursed and stood up in my stirrups, pulling at my sword to unsheath it, then felt Donuil's arms pinion mine as he roared in my ear, for everyone to hear.

"Stand fast, men of Camulod! These are my people!"

My men all froze, staring around them in stupefaction, and I made an instant evaluation, then sagged backwards into Donuil's embrace, fighting for composure, forcing myself to sound unconcerned in spite of the fact that my heart seemed lodged somewhere in the region of my throat.

"Well then," I said, hearing and marvelling at the lack of even a tremor in my voice, "for the love of our God and theirs, tell them to point those arrows somewhere else before someone gets hurt."

Over the course of the hours that followed, we became acquainted with our new companions, whose leaders were the giant and the midget whose footprints had caused us so much concern on the journey from Camulod. Their names were Logan and Feargus, Logan being the giant. It had taken but moments for Donuil to convince them that we were friends and that he was in no way being constrained by us. As he told them the truth of his "captivity" and of how he had become a soldier of Camulod, they watched him in silence, making no attempt to interrupt him. When he had finished his tale, the tiny man, Feargus, made his way to me, followed by big Logan. He stopped directly in front of me, his head tilted far back to look up into my eyes.

"Merlyn Britannicus," he said, in a surprisingly deep and normal voice, the lilting Erse syllables pouring from his tongue like honey. "I extend to you the thanks of my Chief, Athol, King of Scots, son of Iain, son of Fergus and of all his people, for the honour you have shown his son."

Uncomfortably aware that I lacked a suitably formal response to his words and impressed by the simple dignity with which he had delivered them, I could only bow my head in acknowledgment. Donuil, however, felt no such reservations. His delight at seeing these people was complete and heartwarming. He ran forward to embrace the two leaders, then demanded to know, immediately, why they had taken so long to come forward, since they had been following us for days.

It was the giant, Logan, who responded, avoiding the question by pointing out that we were all still mounted, and that their story could wait until we had made camp and eaten. We moved forward then, still in our two separate groups, until we had rejoined our herd boys and their charges. Fires were lit shortly after that, though it was still only early afternoon, food appeared from a variety of sources, and a guard was posted on the hillside to make sure that none of our former assailants from the town came creeping up to finish what they had started. And as we ate, the two companies finally melded into smaller, mixed groups around the fires, communing somehow, in spite of the fact that neither group spoke the other's tongue. Logan and Feargus, between them, told Donuil and me their tale.

Connor had returned home safely, bearing the child hostage, but having failed to find his sister Ygraine. Donuil and I exchanged glances at that. King Athol had listened closely to Connor's story, gazing all the time at the tiny boy who had been brought into his kingdom as a hostage. He had questioned Connor closely on whether he had believed my tale of Donuil's safety and, at the end of it all, neither of them had known what to believe. They knew, however, of Camulod, from other sources, most notably the words of Lot, the Cornish king to whom Athol had wed his daughter. And Donuil's uncle, whom I had released at the time of Donuil's capture, had recognised me from Connor's description, and upon the strength of our one brief meeting had been inclined to believe what Connor reported. I made a mental note to seek him out and thank him when we came to Eire.

Logan and Feargus, two of Athol's most trusted friends and retainers, had been dispatched with two galleys to find Camulod and discover whether Donuil was alive or dead. They had landed to the west of where we sat now, and had seen us on the first day out of Camulod, recognising Donuil immediately, but finding themselves unable to approach us openly since they were too few in numbers to deal with us if we proved hostile. The last thing they wished was to endanger their prince. They had followed us closely for two days and nights, until we approached the place where they had left their galleys, at which point the two leaders stayed close to us, but not close enough to alert us to their presence, while the others were sent to bring more men; enough to confront us successfully, irrespective of our attitude to Donuil. They had suspected, Feargus told us, that we had known about them on the second night they came close to our camp.