Jack Whyte - The Eagles' Brood

"Yes, Commander." He, too, left and I spoke again to Prince Donuil.

"Obviously you have nothing to say. Do you wish to return to your cell?" No flicker of reaction, so I went on, "I had thought to have offered you better quarters, but since you seem to have no interest in being civil I can only assume you are comfortable enough where you are presently lodged. You surprise me. Five years can be a longtime, behind bars." That reached him. He frowned and glanced sidelong at me.

"What kind of better quarters?"

I resisted an impulse to smile at him. "Open ones, for a start. Not quite fit for a prince, but comfortable enough for a princely prisoner."

"What would I have to do?" His voice was heavy with suspicion, wondering what price I would exact of him for any relaxation of vigilance. "If I were to accept these better quarters, what would you expect of me?"

I shrugged one shoulder. "Little more than you have already promised. I have your word that you won't attempt escape. Now, in return for your co-operation, I could permit you a room of your own, with privacy."

"Co-operation?" I could tell from his voice he knew I was about to name my price. "What would this co-operation consist of?"

"An end to this sullenness of yours, for one thing. There is no need for it, and it simply breeds suspicion and dislike." He blinked and was silent for a moment, obviously confused and trying to hide it.

"And? What else?"

"A willingness to contribute to the life of this Colony while you are part of it."

"Contribute? What form of contribution?"

"Work of some kind, not necessarily menial. We all contribute, every one of us, each according to his abilities."

He looked sceptical. "Even you?"

"Of course!" I laughed. "Even my father, the General. There are no parasites in Camulod."

I could not identify the tone that now coloured his voice. "What does your father do?"

"He is Administrator and Commander-in-Chief of our forces. He heads the Council of Governors of the Colony."

"And you, what do you do?"

"I assist my father. I keep records. I command a regiment. And I count horses."

His face went blank with surprise. "You what?"

"Count horses. I have just been charged with taking a census of all the horses that the Colony owns."

"You have that many horses?" His eyes showed wonderment. "How long will that take?"

I made a face to show my ignorance of that answer. "I do not know. In truth, I have no idea. A week, perhaps two, if nothing unexpected happens, like another raid, to interrupt the task."

His face creased into a frown. "What could I do? I have no training in any kind of work such as you describe, and I will not work with my hands like a bondsman."

"I didn't think you would, nor would I ask you to, but there must be something you can do. Do you have skills with iron?"

"You mean making it? No."

"Can you write and read?"

"No."

"Can you relax?" He blinked at me and I signalled towards the chair in front of him. "Sit down, you are too tall to gaze up at constantly." He sat down slowly and I picked up the sword that lay on the table and unsheathed it, laying it before him. "Look at it," I said. "This sword was made by my own great-uncle, Publius Varrus, a master smith. He was a soldier and a founder of this Colony, but he worked with his hands in metal all his life and saw no shame in it." I slipped the blade back into the sheath. "Every man has skills that are all his own, Donuil. Here, in our Colony, we ask that each man use his skills for the benefit of everyone, earning in return the right to live here, sharing in the Colony's prosperity. By making your own contribution you would be earning your keep—no more, no less. You will be asked to do nothing that could embarrass you or cause you to feel guilt in any way. You will not be asked, for example, to fight against your people, should they raid our lands again, although such an event would itself place you in a bad position, since your presence here means that we are at peace with Hibemia for five years."

"No! That's not true." There was urgency in his voice and he shook his head tersely. "You are at peace with my people, but not with all my countrymen. We have many kings on our island and few of them are friends. The fact that you hold me as hostage will mean nothing to the other kings. They have no love for me or for my people. They war with us as much as they do with Britain."

"Hmm!" I gnawed at my lower lip as though this had not occurred to me. "That could be awkward. How will we know that any future raiders are not of your people?"

The young man held his head high. "My father's standard is a black galley set on a field of gold. All of our ships carry it. My people will stay clear of you and your lands."

"Good." I nodded to him. "I believe you. But we have lost our track. Would you be willing to consider taking part in some way in the life of Camulod?"

He looked me in the eye. "Aye, Caius Merlyn, but there is a problem."

"What is that?"

"I do not have your Roman-British tongue. You are the only man I've met so far that I can talk to."

"Then you will have to work with me, somehow, until you learn our language. Will that gall you?" His face broke out slowly, but not reluctantly, into a smile.

"No, I think not."

"Good, then there is no problem. How old are you?"

"Seventeen. Almost eighteen."

I whistled my surprise. "You're a big lad for your age. Think about this. Consider what you might do that you can see as being of help to me and we will talk again tomorrow." As I said this, my door burst open and my father strode into the room, his face like thunder. He stopped short when he saw that I had company and looked from Donuil to me, making no sign of greeting to either one of us.

"Caius. When you are free, come to my quarters." He left as suddenly as he had come, closing the door behind him and I wondered what had upset him so. As soon as he had gone I turned back to my prisoner.

"So be it. Think on what I have said until tomorrow. In the meantime, I will have Legate Titus assign you to a room of your own. As of this moment, you are free to move about the fort, but be careful. Remember your own point about the language problem. In fact, it might be better not to wander off on your own until I have had time to show you around. I will do that tomorrow, too. Now I have to go and meet with my father and find out what has upset him. Come with me.

I'll take you to Titus on the way and have him fix you up." I stepped to the door and held it open, and as he passed in front of me to leave, I stopped him with my free hand on his arm. "Welcome to Camulod," I told him, smiling. "I think you may like it here, once you get used to it." I offered him my hand and saw no reluctance in his face as he shook it.

XVI

It took me almost half an hour to find Titus and instruct him on what I wanted him to do with Donuil, so that as I approached my father's office I found myself thinking that he would, by this time, have had a chance to simmer down and be more objective about whatever it had been that infuriated him. I was wrong. He was still black-faced and grim.

"Where have you been?" he snapped as I stepped across his threshold. I blinked at him in surprise.

"Pardon me. I have been making arrangements for the suitable quartering of my prisoner."

"What quartering? He should be in a cell. We have more to be concerned with than the comfort of an alien raider."

I decided not to pursue that one. "What's the matter, Father? I've never seen you so upset."

"Upset? I am not upset! I am disturbed and uneasy and running short of patience with fools, but I am not upset!"

"Oh! Very well, then, what's worrying and disturbing you?" I had not bothered to close the door behind me as I entered, mainly because his temper had taken me so much by surprise. Normally the most imperturbable of men, my father was by nature cool and judicious, although in his infrequent fits of anger he could be implacable. He walked past me and closed the door himself. I turned to watch him as he did so, noting the effort he made to calm himself before turning back to me.