Camulod Chronicles Book 8 - Clothar the Frank (44 page)

"I do. Gunthar as king defies imagination. Don't you think she was right?"

"Yet you made no mention of that to Chulderic a few days ago when you discussed this very matter of the King's unwillingness to change his provisions regarding Gunthar."

He nodded. "True. I did not. I knew it and Chulderic knew it, but until the King spoke clearly on the matter of his final choice it would have been disloyal for either one of us to speak of it. Here we are."

We were in front of Chulderic's tent, and it was the center of a beehive of activity, with people running hither and yon, all of them shouting to each other to make themselves heard. I grasped Samson by the elbow, tugging him back before he could duck between the tied-back flaps.

"What? Come inside, we have but little time."

"No, wait, Samson. What will you do now, about Beddoc?"

He frowned. "Follow him, hope to catch him, but he has a long start."

"How long?"

"Perhaps an entire night watch: three hours."

"Is he on foot?"

"He's on a horse, but all his men are afoot, aye."

"And have you already dispatched men to follow him?"

"Aye, as soon as we discovered he had gone. But they'll not catch him, unless he falls sick or dies."

"And when will you leave?"

"Not until we have attended to my father's funeral rites."

"You think that wise? Why not leave now, as quickly as you can, and take the King's body with you? He won't suffer by being kept intact for another day or two and he will feel no pain now on the road. And if you leave now you'll be but hours behind Beddoc, instead of a full day, and Gunthar will have that much less time to decide what he will do."

Samson stared at me intently, his brows furrowed as he reviewed what I had said, and then he gave a terse nod. "You're right. That makes sense. Chulderic?" He shouted over his shoulder, preparing to swing away, but I stopped him yet again.

"Let me go now, with Ursus."

He peered at me. "Go where? What—?"

'To Genava! We have fast horses, Ursus and I, bred for stamina. Beddoc's people are all afoot. We can overtake them by nightfall. How far are we from Genava, forty miles? We can be there by tomorrow, before noon, ten miles and more ahead of Beddoc."

His eyes narrowed as he grasped what I was saying, and then his fingers fastened on my shoulder. He pulled me into the tent with him, shouting again for Chulderic, and within the hour Ursus and I were riding again towards Genava and whatever might await us there.

7

I could never have imagined what lay ahead of me as I followed Ursus out of King Ban's last encampment that day. The weather was foul when we set out and it remained foul for the duration of our journey—indeed, the rain was to persist in varying intensity for three entire weeks—and events and ramifications to those events were to occur within that time that I was simply unequipped to envision, let alone anticipate.

Riding through the driving rain that first morning, I would not have believed, had anyone suggested such a thing, that I might even come close to forgetting or forsaking the last promise I had made to King Ban, to return to Germanus in Auxerre. My faith was still strong in those opening days of what I would come to remember as Gunthar's War, and there was no room yet in my soul for self- doubts or for questioning the values I had been taught throughout my life. My beloved aunt, Vivienne of Ganis, awaited me at the end of my journey, less than forty miles distant, and I could scarcely wait to set my eyes upon her again.

I admit I knew that things had changed greatly in much too short a space of time, and that the welcome of which I had dreamed and for which I had yearned would not—could not—be as I had envisioned it. The Queen who would have welcomed me with love and joy a mere week earlier was now a widow, burdened by a newborn widow's grief, and a tormented mother, too, torn and distracted by the rivalry and conflict so suddenly flung up between her sons. I knew I would be fortunate indeed were the Lady Vivienne even to notice my arrival. All of that was in my mind, as I have said, and in my thinking as a man, but in the hidden recesses of my heart, wherein I was still merely a boy, I dared yet to hope that Vivienne of Ganis would welcome me with radiant smiles and open arms.

We caught up to Beddoc and his band late that afternoon and avoided them easily by leaving the road and sweeping around them, leaving more than sufficient room between us and them to ensure that they would have no suspicion of our presence. They had been marching hard all day, knowing they had a three-hour head start on anyone pursuing them, and to the best of my knowledge, none of them save Beddoc knew that Ursus and I existed, and not even he knew that we had swift horses at our disposal. Beddoc's sole concern was to reach Benwick and align himself with Gunthar before any word could reach the castle from King Ban's party. To that end, he had struck out and away in the middle of the night, knowing that no one he had left behind owned horses that were fast enough to overcome a three-hour lead. His men might be vigilant in watching for pursuers but, human nature being what it is, they would not suspect they might be overhauled as quickly as they had been, and even had they seen us by mischance, they would not have recognized us as representatives of King Ban's men.

Avoiding them was easy. We had known for some time before finding our quarry that we were gaining on them rapidly. The great road that stretched, magnificently straight, all the way from Lugdunum to Genava carried little traffic nowadays, even at the best of times, and this was far from being that. The threats of war and invasion were enough to deter all but the strongest and most desperate travelers, and so we had the rain-swept causeway all to ourselves, and we saw not the slightest sign of military activity anywhere as we progressed.

Solid and arrow-straight, the roadway provided us with significantly greater advantages than it permitted Beddoc and his men. We were heavily cloaked and well protected from the wind and rain, mounted on strong horses that moved swiftly and cared nothing for the driving downpour. Beddoc and his people, on the other hand, were afoot and heavily laden, making heavy going of their forced march, trudging through heavy, unrelenting rain under full military field packs, because when they had crept away from Samson's camp in the dead of night they had not dared to risk the noise of harnessing and stealing baggage wagons for their gear and equipment. They had left their cumbersome leather legionary tents behind, confident that they were but one night's sleep beneath the stars away from home, and so each of them lacked that heavy burden, at least. And so they plodded now through the pouring rain, huddled in misery, footsore, aching and feeling very sorry for themselves, their sodden clothing and ice cold armour chafing painfully wherever they touched skin.

We came closest to them at the point where they had stopped for their last rest of the day. Beddoc's party had been stopping once every hour, as marching legions always had from the earliest days of Rome's soldier-citizenry. Ursus had waved to me to slow down and moved out slowly ahead of me, scanning the roadside, and sure enough, we soon found the spot where Beddoc's men had spilled off the hard top of the road in search of relief from the road's surface and whatever shelter they could find beneath the canopy of the trees on either side. We reined in, and Ursus swung down from his saddle to search for whatever he expected to find. I sat straight in my saddle and dug my thumbs into the small of my back, under the edge of my cuirass, grimacing as I stretched and flexed my spine and stared ahead, over my horse's ears, along the tunnel of the road that stretched ahead of us.

Had the terrain here been as flat as the road was straight, we should have been able to see Beddoc and his party long before this, but the ground in this region undulated gently, in long, rolling ripples that stretched east and west, so that the road ahead rose and fell constantly. You might be able to sec as far as half a mile ahead at any time, but then the road would crest and fall away into the next gentle valley and be lost to sight. The sight lines here were impaired, too, by the foliage of the trees that had encroached almost to the edges of the road in some spots, so that their lower boughs appeared from a distance to sweep down completely, to brush the surface of the very stones.

That, I knew, was something new, because I also knew that there had once been a time, extending into the boyhood of King Ban's grandsire, when an entire department of the imperial civil service had existed solely to maintain the roads in central and southern Gaul. Under its supervision the great roads, so long and straight, had been maintained and regularly repaired, and huge swaths of cleared land, Fifty paces wide, had been kept free of growth on either side of each one. But after nigh on a hundred years of neglect and untrammeled growth, the protective borders were now choked with growth, and mature trees now towered close beside the roads themselves, close enough, in many cases, for their massive roots to have damaged the edges of the paving, heaving the paved and metalled surface upward and causing cracks and fractures. Those insignificant-seeming invasions of the roadbeds, according to the wisdom of Bishop Germanus, marked the beginnings of a process of disintegration that would inevitably, with the hungry assistance of time and weather, bring about the ruin of most of Rome's wondrous network of roads.

I saw Ursus stoop and pick something up, and then he came back towards me, gazing down at whatever it was he had found, then lobbing it towards me when he was close enough. I caught it and held it up to see it properly. It was the heel of a loaf of bread, just small enough to fill my palm and hard enough that I could clearly see the gnawed marks where someone had tried in vain to bite into it with strong teeth.

"It's still dry," Ursus said, standing now by my knee, "in this weather, save on the very outside. That means we can't be any more than a quarter of an hour behind the man who threw it away. There's an abandoned mansio about five miles ahead. They'll stop there for the night. Or at least, they ought to."

"Why there?"

"No other choice." He reached up with a bent finger and flicked a drop of rain from the end of his nose. The downpour suddenly intensified, the rain falling harder than ever, and I had to bend down towards him and listen closely to hear his voice above the thunder of it on my helmet, even though he was shouting at me. "They've no tents, remember? And it's too damn wet for them to even try to shelter under the trees." He moved even closer to me, leaning against my horse's side, his left hand holding my ankle as he shouted up at me and his face twisted into a rictus that I soon recognized, to my complete astonishment, as a grin. He was absolutely enjoying all of this, the journey, the chase and the deluge.

He removed his hand from my ankle and raised his voice even louder, wiping at his eyes with a forefinger. 'The mansio's old and it's been sitting empty for years, long before I was born. It's got no doors or windows but it's still standing, thanks to thick stone walls, and it has a roof, or most of a roof, and fireplaces. They'll be better off there than any other place between Lugdunum and Genava. They might not be completely dry, or completely warm, but they'll be out of the wind and the worst of the rain and they'll have firelight and a bit of heat. They could be far worse off."

"And what about—?" The rain slackened as quickly as it had increased, and I heard myself bellowing. I lowered my voice instantly, glancing about as though to see if anyone else had heard me. "What about us?"

"What about us?" He was standing sideways to me now, his hands on his hips so that his cloak hung tent-like from his extended elbows. "We'll cut away from the road here, ride around and get ahead of them. From then on, every mile we gain on them is worth at least six to us, because they'll be walking to catch up to us and we'll be flying on horseback. Once past them, we'll ride for ten more miles, then stop for the night at a place I know, where we'll be warm and drier than any of those poor fools."

"Ten miles, once we're past them? It will be dark by then, and probably still raining, which means there'll be no moon to light your way. How will you find this place you speak of? Is it on the road? What kind of place is it, anyway?"

"Nitter natter. Master, so many questions." Ursus grinned and swung himself up onto his mount, making nothing of the sodden weight of his cloak. "It's a shepherd's hut, built of stone, solid as bedrock and strongly thatched, and it is never without a supply of fine, dry firewood. And as for your other question, no, it's not on the road. It is four hundred paces off the road, as I remember, and I could find it blindfolded if I had to. But I won't have to. Come, let's go." He looked up at the sky, then kicked his horse into motion, angling it away from the road and towards the forest, shouting back over his shoulder as he went. "I would say we have two hours of daylight left to us, perhaps two and a half. That should be more time than we need to reach our spot without riding through darkness. Once past Beddoc's crew we can really travel quickly, since we won't have to worry about running into them." He kicked his horse again, pushing it to a canter, and I followed close behind him, shouting back at him.

"How do you know this place we're going to, and how do you know it's still there? When were you there last?"

He didn't look back but his voice drifted to me over his shoulder. "I saw it last three years ago. I know where it is because I was born near there. I know it is still there because it was built to endure forever. And I know
that's
true because the shepherd who built it was my grandfather. I helped him chink the walls while I was still a babe in my father's arms. And I know it's warm and dry and stocked with fuel because my brother Doran still uses it today, when his flocks are on that side of his lands." Now he looked back at me, laughing. "Have you any further questions, Master Clothar?"

I closed my mouth, which had gaped open in surprise at what he was telling me, and then laughed back at him, kicking my mount's flanks to bring it level with his, and we rode on through the downpour, out into the forest's edge where we could ride parallel to the road and pass our quarry by without fear of being seen.