Jack Whyte - The Eagles' Brood

He shook his head, silent now, his face almost in repose, and I finished what I had to say, knowing in my heart that what I had said—this explanation that had come to me from the depths of my mind—was correct.

"Simply because she could not bear to live with you, even though you were innocent of any wrong. This was a wondrous woman, Ambrose, if my reasoning is sound, and I believe it is. Think of her with pity, if you can, and with' affection. Out of love for an aged man, and driven by well- intentioned desperation, she might have undertaken a course fraught with great risk, one that could have given her little pleasure. And out of all these benevolent efforts came tragedy. Her husband, for love of whom she had done all this, was ignominiously killed, believing her treacherous and breaking his own sacrosanct Roman law of hospitality. And she was left with you, the daily reminder of her culpability. Marcus Aurelius Ambrosianus was your mother's husband, Ambrose, but he was not your father. And every time she looked at you she would have seen that, along with the fact that your true father—no more than an instrument to her—meant less than nothing to her and did not even know she, or you, existed. You and he were merely the progenitors of her guilt, the tools she had foolishly used to procure the unlooked-for death of her husband. Thank God she let you live. Many another would have killed you in the womb."

In silence, bereft of words, he turned away from me again, back to his perusal of the darkness beyond the rocks, but not before I had seen the glint of moonlight on the tears that spilled down his cheeks. I waited, but I knew he had no more to say, and after a time I stepped forward and laid my hand gently on his shoulder, feeling the tension in him.

"Listen," I told him. "It is late, and you have no need of company, so I will leave you now. Think of what I have said. You are my brother, my father's son, and you have a home in my home in Camulod should you choose to accept it. We will speak more tomorrow, but I'll make no move to impose upon you. Seek me out when you are ready. Good night."

I left him there alone, standing among the boulders, and made my way to my own tent where I lay awake for a long time.

XXXVI

By mid-morning I had heard nothing from Ambrose, although I had stayed close to my tent since rising, delegating my normal duties to Cyrus Appius. I had said nothing to Donuil or to anyone else about my encounter with my brother the previous night, and I could feel Donuil watching me solicitously whenever he felt I was unaware of him. In the meantime, I was content to wait. Ambrose might come looking for me at any time. I felt sure he would have passed a sleepless night with so much on his mind and had probably remained abed this morning.

It was a fine, early autumn morning, the air snapping for the first time with a hint of the winter lying in wait not far away, and the camp was almost deserted, one-third of our number on patrol duty within the town and most of the remainder at the debate itself. As I sat idly by the fire listening to the sharp, abrasive sound of the whetstone Donuil was using on the edge of my sword, a shadow fell across me and I turned to see Lucanus looking down at me, his back against the sun.

"Good day to you," he greeted me. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing in the world that I know of." I beckoned him to join me. He approached, but remained standing. "Where have you been all morning?"

He shrugged. "Walking, and working. One of our troopers fell and broke a leg last night, badly. I set and splinted it last night, but had to set it again this morning."

"What happened? Was he drunk?"

"No, he fell down some stairs, but he was sober." He dismissed that with a wave of his hand and went on, "I'm more concerned with you. What's wrong with you? You have done nothing today but hang around here. That's not like you".

"Isn't it?" I smiled. "I'm thinking, that's all, and waiting."

"Waiting for what? Caius Merlyn Britannicus waits for nothing and no man...at least, the one I know does not. So what's afoot?"

I laughed. "Nothing's afoot, at least nothing to concern anyone. I looked for you last night. I had some news to tell you about Uther, after I had been speaking to Bishop Patricius."

"You mean about the priest, Remus?" He nodded. "I heard. I spoke to Patricius, too, after you. He told me what you had discussed." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "It must have been a great relief to know that your suspicions were unfounded." His tone made a question of the statement.

"It was. I slept well, last night. I have more news for you, too, on another matter, but it will have to wait for a while. Where are you going now?"

"To the debate. I hoped you might come with me. The formal commencement was this morning and I missed it, as did you. We did, after all, travel a long way to be here and to witness the proceedings."

I nodded. "Yes, we..." My voice died away as I saw him look beyond me and I knew, from the way his eyes widened and his jaw fell agape, what he had seen. I turned in my seat to see Ambrose standing by the side of my tent and could sympathize with Luke's shock. In darkness, Ambrose had resembled me amazingly. In broad daylight the effect was emphasized. He could have been my twin.

"Ah, Ambrose!" I rose quickly to my feet. "Welcome. Let me introduce you to a friend of mine, Lucanus, our superb physician, who thinks of himself as a surgeon." Luke's eyes were still glazed as I continued, "Lucanus, this is Ambrose.. .of Lindum." I could say no more until I knew the route that Ambrose would elect to follow.

Ambrose stepped forward and bowed slightly to Lucanus, a formal, yet courteous and friendly gesture. "Master Lucanus. Caius Merlyn misleads you, but out of courtesy, and I can see you see that for yourself. My name is Britannicus... Ambrose Britannicus."

I heaved a great sigh of relief. "Donuil," I called into the tent, "come out and meet my brother."

A period of confusion and wonderment ensued, as Donuil and Lucanus attempted to come to grips with the reality of this confrontation, but I cut it short, promising to explain fully later. I had seen from Ambrose's expression that he was not yet fully comfortable in his new role. I asked the others to permit us some time alone, and they left immediately. I led Ambrose into my tent and waved him to a seat. We sat in silence for a spell, simply looking at each other, savouring the likeness between us.

"Would you like something to drink?" I felt a sudden need to put him at his ease, but he shook his head and then seemed to relax, clearing his throat.

"Last night.. .Last night you said I should thank God my mother permitted me to live..." He made an attempt to smile and, shaky though the result was, I felt far better than I had in many hours. "I came this morning to tell you I agree with you.. .and I thank God, indeed." I could see tears welling in his eyes, and when he spoke again his voice shook, although only very slightly. "Merlyn, I spent the night thinking of all you said, and I believe now that what you told me—knowing and considering your own uncertainty—must be the truth. It seems against all reason on the one hand, but on the other it reeks of truth. We will never know for certain, as you said. I know that, and I regret it, but it feels like the truth, in here!" He pounded his chest with his clenched fist. "My thanks to you," he went on, fighting to control his emotions. "You have given me back my mother."

I swallowed hard. "I've given you more than that, my friend, and it benefits me as much as you, for I now have a brother almost like a twin, while you inherit another life: a noble father you never knew you had, plus a whole clan of kinsmen and a Colony like no other in this land...Not to mention Uther Pendragon, unknown to you at present, who will howl with mirth and outrage when he sets eyes on you. But we'll have plenty of opportunity to talk, now that you've begun to adjust. For the moment, I was about to leave for the debate with Lucanus. Will you join us?"