Jack Whyte - The Singing Sword

It was a slow progress, but I felt peaceful and well content with my post in the vanguard. Caius rode on my right and ten more of our close friends accompanied us, but no one spoke. Everyone seemed to appreciate my unspoken need for silence in which to enjoy this occasion.

We had gone about one-third of the way to the hill along the new road when I saw a sudden flash of light in the distance off to my left and my heart gave a sickening lurch in my breast. No one else had noticed it, but I had and I knew what it was. The early morning sunlight had reflected off metal where no metal should be this day. I raised my arm immediately to stop the column behind me, my mind racing as I tried to decide whether to run for the fort or break back to the villa; I was more than aware of the number of women in the train. And then I remembered that we had our soldiers deployed in force behind the home farm, and I knew there was no danger to our column.

Caius asked me why I stopped and I merely nodded in answer, pointing my head in the direction of the reflection I had seen, and presently we were able to make out the swift-moving column of mounted men and the great black-and-white standard of Picus Britannicus.

He came in splendour, to the cheering welcome of the crowd behind me and the blaring of horns from the hilltop fort, where Ullic's people watched. And Picus, too, came dressed for a grand occasion, in his finest, gilded armour, his men, in spite of having ridden far and hard, turned out as for an imperial parade. As his column approached ours, his standard-bearers formed up behind him, the SPQR standard of the Senate and the People of Rome taking pride of place beside Picus's own, directly behind Picus himself. Each bearer took a position some twenty paces behind and forty paces to the side of him. The three lesser-formation or squadron standards formed up behind them, again with some forty paces between each. Together, including Picus at the forefront, these standards formed a small arrowhead of six mounted men at the head of three great forty-man arrowhead formations.

The people behind me in the wedding train were cheering even louder as this proud cavalcade thundered towards us and slid to a halt in perfect formation with Picus at its head, less than four paces from me. Picus snapped me his clenched-fist salute.

"Hail, Publius Varrus. We were detained, but here we are now as honour-guard for a beautiful bride on a beautiful day."

A silence had fallen as he had clattered to a halt, so that all heard his shouted greeting clearly. Now the cheering broke out again as I answered him.

"Well met, Picus Britannicus. When you have paid your tribute to your father, Caius Britannicus, and to our bride today, I shall be glad of your company."

His troops remained motionless as Picus danced his horse from his father, beside me, to Veronica's litter and his Aunt Luceiia's chair. His respects paid, he returned to my side at the head of the column, smiling broadly.

"Uncle Varrus, I am impressed! This is not just a wedding — it is a gala of epic proportions!"

"Aye, Picus." I smiled back at him. "It is. It is the beginning of the coming-true of all our dreams, your father's first among all, and it is the first major celebration we have indulged in since the Colony's founding. How do you want to dispose your men?"

He looked over at his troops and then glanced up the hill to where the new road wound upward to the fort.

"I was thinking of that as we approached. Your train is formed and under way and to attempt to change it now would cause confusion. Why don't I send my troopers on ahead to line the road on both sides up the hill? Ten paces between each two men would give you better than a quarter-mile of guards."

"Splendid," I said, laughing. "That's a fine idea. Do it. And when you are no longer a soldier you can grow rich arranging spectacles in the Circus Maximus."

He turned and approached his standard-bearer, signalled to his squadron commanders and pointed up the hill. The result had obviously been prearranged, but it made a wonderful spectacle. His men wheeled smartly, changing formation as they kicked their horses to the gallop, and then took the road before us in columns of four, quickly leaving us far behind. I gave the order to resume our procession, raising my hand to the train behind me, and we followed Picus's men at a pace far more sedate and dignified.

As soon as I was satisfied that we were all safely under way again without incident, I turned back to Picus, who rode at my left.

"So, lad! What's been happening out there in the world? I must admit I had not expected to see you here today."

"No more had I, Uncle." His voice was unexpectedly low and serious, and I glanced immediately to Caius, seeing his own gaze sharpen as he nudged his horse closer to hear what was coming. Picus waited until his father was within easy hearing before continuing. "All Hades has broken loose in the north. We'll never be able to hold the Wall if things continue the way they are at present."

"How so?" Cay's voice was urgent. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I say, Father. It is sheer, absolute chaos up there. We've been under constant, escalating attack ever since last October. Never a let-up. We've been hit at every point along the eighty-five miles of the Wall — usually in three or four places at once, miles apart. There's just no way to defend against them. And our cavalry is useless, except as back-up to the regular garrison. If there's a breakthrough, we can clean up the people who come through the gap, but only if we are close enough to hit them instantly do we stand a chance of driving them back."

There was silence for a few moments as Caius and I digested this disquieting news, and then, as usual, it was Caius who spoke up.

"I had no idea things were so bad up there. We heard some rumours, of course, but we thought the enemy in the north was being held, by and large, in abeyance."

"They are. For now." Picus sounded sceptical. "But that won't last long. They're too well co-ordinated. They have some first-class military minds directing them."

A female shriek rang out behind us and then a booming roar of laughter. I swung around to look back, but I could see no sign of the source of the hilarity, nor the cause of it.

"Anyway," Picus continued, paying no attention to the noise, "that's talk for later, when the ladies are abed. This morning should be for pleasure alone."

We rode in companionable silence for a time, enjoying the beauty of the day and listening to the tinkling of the Celtic musicians entertaining the ladies behind us. The first of Picus's troopers sat his horse on the left side of the road about half a mile ahead of us, right at the bottom of the hill.

"Look," Picus observed, "Janus has staggered the men, ten paces apart on opposite sides of the hill. That's good. I like a man with initiative. Now you have almost half a mile of mounted guards."

"Aye," Caius grunted, good-naturedly, "that will please the ladies." He paused, as if reflecting, before he observed, "Do you know that yours are the only imperial troops some of our people have ever seen? Especially the young ones."

Picus's voice showed his surprise. "I suppose they are, now that you mention it. You are a bit off the beaten track."

"Aye," I added, "and, please God, we'll stay off it. By the way, what news of your young friend with the wild ideas? What was his name? Pelidorus?"

"Who? Pelidorus?" There was bafflement in Picus's voice, then, "Oh, you mean Pelagius!"

"Aye, Pelagius, that was it. The theologian. What of him?"

Picus shook his head. "Nothing. No news. I haven't heard his name mentioned in ages. Not since we spoke of him that day, in fact."

"Do you think he's still alive?"

"Why not?" Picus laughed aloud. "It was a bishop he offended, Uncle, not the Emperor. And speaking of bishops, when did you last see Bishop Alaric?"