Jack Whyte - The Eagles' Brood

"It is in my mind that you and your people here would not submit to starvation."

"I will not argue with you on that. What else is in your mind?"

"It is in my mind, too, that I know Lot of Cornwall no better than I know you, having met the man only twice and briefly each time."

"And?"

"I believe that my people would have a more beneficial alliance with you, than with Lot."

"How so?"

He made to respond immediately but then paused and considered his words so that his face grew speculative before he said, "I am not sure. Something of honour, I think. You have honour and understand the need for it. The King of Cornwall deals little with it, from what I have learned."

"How can you know that, Donuil, if you don't know the man?"

He shrugged his huge shoulders. "How do I know if the sun is shining before I leave my hut in the morning? There are signs and sounds that announce it. There are signs that make it clear to me, also, that we of the Scotii would be better allied with your Colony."

"But our Colony needs no allies. Especially in another land beyond the sea."

"Perhaps not, Caius Merlyn, but ask yourself how great your need of enemies is, across the same sea?"

"A good point, Prince Donuil!" I nodded in agreement. "If our enemies have allies across the sea, then we have enemies across the sea and should bestir ourselves to seek alliance there with others who could keep those enemies at home." He nodded, and I went on, "But that becomes complicated, even in the telling, and we have already solved the problem. Your presence here has cut the string from Lot's alliance. Your people are no threat to us, for now."

"Not for five years, at least, you mean."

"Not for five years, at least."

"And after that? What do you think will happen when my time with you is up?"

It was my turn to shrug. "Who knows? Much can happen in five years. The worst that could happen is that your people could war against us again. But by that time we would have made our preparations to receive them. It would not be pleasant, but we would be forearmed and ready for them." I looked directly at him and his eyes were wide and frank, looking straight into my own. "But we are not here to discuss a war that may or may not happen in five years. We are here to discuss your thoughts on how you might profitably spend those five years, with an eye to your own good and comfort, and a non-traitorous benefit to the community that will be your host during that time."

He smiled. "Nicely phrased, Caius Merlyn."

"Well," I smiled back since he had caught my intention so clearly. "What have you decided? It's taking you a long while to come to your point."

"Aye, I suppose it is, from your viewpoint. From my own, however, I can't see the need for rushing brashly into any deep commitment. My father always taught me that nothing important should ever be put in danger by too quick an approach."

We were interrupted at this point by the approach of Titus who, tactful as ever, greeted me formally in front of my prisoner and made apologies for interrupting us. I stood up and waved away his apologies.

"What is it, Titus?"

"I thought you'd like to know immediately, Cay. We've just received word from the outposts that Uther and his men are on their way in. They should be here within the hour."

"Is Uther well?" My heart felt lightened within me, for ever since my father's admission of concern over Uther's continued absence, I had been worried like everyone else by misgivings about what might have happened to him.

"Apparently. He's riding at the head of his men."

"Thank you, Titus. That's good news. I'll be on hand to greet him at the gates. Tell my father."

Titus glanced at Donuil, saluted me formally again and left, and Donuil followed him with his eyes until he left the refectory. Titus and I had been speaking in Latin, so Donuil could have understood nothing of what was said.

"Who is he, that man? What does he do?"

"He is Titus, my father's adjutant."

"Adjutant? What's an adjutant?"

I had to think about that. What was an adjutant? "Assistant, I suppose, would be as good a word as any, although he serves as the administrator for my father, too, in many things, so he is far more than a mere assistant. He holds a position of unassailable trust."

"I see. Has he been with your father long?"

"Aye. More than twenty years. Why?"

He shook his head. "It was just in my mind that he seems a bit long in the tooth to be still a runner."

"A runner? What do you mean?"

"You know, a fetcher."

I felt my face freeze in disapproval. "I think you had better be careful what you imply, Prince Donuil. That man is the closest friend my father has. The position he holds within this fort and within the governing body of this Colony is second to no one save the General himself. There is nothing servile about Titus or his function, and there's not a man in the place, except yourself, who speak from ignorance, who does not hold him in the highest regard."

Before I had finished this retort, stung as I was by the slight I had interpreted from his remarks, he was holding both hands up, palms towards me, his teeth flashing in a wide grin. "Hold! Hold! I meant no offence! Easy, now!"

I bit my words off and tried to moderate my tone. "What did you mean, then?"

"Well now, Commander, I've been watching the adjutant, noting what he does, and trying to define his purpose here. I told you that I found one of your men who speaks my tongue. I asked him about the man's position last night, and all the information that I got was most informative. He is a man of many parts, your Titus. Many parts and many skills; many talents and much worth." He was smiling still, but there was no mockery. "But you'll admit, when all is said and done, that what he does, in everything he does, is serve your father, although you might prefer the word assist —no matter what your father's needs may be. Is that not so?"

"Aye. That is so. That's what he does. He serves my father, his General. Better than any other here."

"And he takes no ill by such service?"

"How should he?"

"I do not know, Caius Merlyn! Among my people, I think, it would be impossible to ever show that kind of servitude to another man without losing your independence."

I was still nettled. "You think we lack for pride?"

"No, no, not at all!" The lad was at pains not to give offence, as he had said. "There's simply a difference in the kind of pride, that's all. Among us, I think it can be a weakness, for we are too fierce in our pride. Each man among us fears to seem dependent on another. That is a weakness, because shared strength and shared responsibility, as they are practised here, breed solidarity. I can see that, even after only days in your company. But I never noticed it before, until I found myself here, observing you people.

"No," he went on, "you do not lack for pride. You carry it away beyond our ken. Your kind of pride extends to others, to the people around you, and you have no fear of being judged dependent. That has to be a strength." Donuil paused, then continued, "Your father is no longer young. When he is dead, will you command?"

"Aye. Here in the Colony, I will."

"And will Titus then become your adjutant?"

"If he is still alive, then I suppose he will. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity, that's all. You have no adjutant of your own?"

"No, I have no need of one." His tone was making me curious. "Anyway, we are off the track again. When Titus came in, you were just about to tell me what you would choose to do here in Camulod."

"Aye, I was. That's what I'd like to do." I blinked in incomprehension. "Him. The adjutant, Titus. That's what I'd like to do."

"You mean, be an adjutant?" I was bewildered.