Black Horses for the King

Part One

"GALWYN'S FEEDING THE F1SH6S AGAIN," the mate called as I emptied the odorous bucket overboard. I ignored him, rinsing the bucket in the strong waves that were following us from Isca Dumnorium.

By now, I was some used to crossing the Narrow Sea, but to have to tend to six grown men who were not, made me as ill as they. And made me, once again, the butt of jokes for my uncle's crew. It had taken me a while to learn not to rise to the mate's lures; he'd leave off his taunts sooner. "Have ye no sea blood in ye at all? "Have ye no use in the rigging, little use on deck, and ye can't even keep b'low decks clean."

I was hauling the bucket up, had it nearly to the rail, when a particularly hungry wave caught and filled it.

The line pulled burningly through my hands. I barely managed to belay it on a pin and thus not lose it entirely. The mate roared with laughter at my unhandiness, encouraging the other men of his watch to join him.

"Galwyn, I'd want proof that y'are indeed Gralior's nephew if I'd one like ye on any ship of mine."

The bucket forgotten, I whirled on him for that insult to my mother.

"Ah, lad, we've sore need of the bucket below," said a deep voice in my ear. A hand caught my shoulder with a powerful shake to gain my attention and curb my intent. "Such taunts are the currency of the petty," our noble passenger continued for my ear alone. "Treat them with the contempt they deserve." Then he went on in a tone meant to carry, "I tried the salted beef as you suggested, and it has succeeded in settling my belly. For which I'm obliged to you. I'll have another plate for my Companions."

I could not recall the Comes's name-a Roman one, for all he was supposed to be as much a Briton as the rest of us. My uncle treated him with more respect, even reverence, than he accorded most men, fare-paying passengers or not. So I was quite as willing to obey this Briton lord without quibble, and to ease his Companions' distress in any way I could. I hauled up the bucket, which he took below with him. Then I got more salt beef from the barrel before I followed him back down into the space assigned the passengers.

Warriors they might be, but on the sea and three days from land, they were in woeful condition: Two were green under their weathered skins, as they lay defeated by the roll and heave of the deck beneath them. I did not laugh, all too familiar with their malaise. They were big men, strong of arm and thew, with callused hands and arms scarred by swordplay. They'd swords in their baggage, and oiled leather jerkins well studded with nails. Big men in search of big horses to carry them into battle against the Saxons. That much I had gleaned from snatches of then- conversation before the seasickness robbed them of talk and dignity. Then they clung to their crosses and made soft prayers to God for deliverance.

"Come now, Bwlch, you see me revived," the war chief cajoled. Bwlch merely moaned as the salt beef was dangled in front of his face and gestured urgently to me to bring the bucket. There could be nothing now but bile in the man's stomach, if that, for he had drunk no more than a sip or two of water all day. "Bericus, will you not try young Galwyn's magic cure?" The second man-at-arms closed his eyes and slapped a great fist across his nose and mouth. "Come now, Companions, we are all but there, are we not, young Galwyn?"

I was mortified that he had remembered my name when I could not recall his and started to duck my head away from his smiling face. Now I was caught by the brilliant blue of his eyes and held by an indefinable link that made of me, in that one moment, his fervent adherent. Ah, if only my uncle had awarded me such a glance, I could have found my apprenticeship far easier to bear.

"Aye, sir," I said with an encouraging smile for the low-laid Bericus, "we'll make port soon, and that's the truth!" For landfall was indeed nigh. I'd seen the smudge on the horizon when I emptied the bucket, though the mate's taunt had driven the fact out of my mind till now. "We should be up the river to Burtigala by dusk. Solid, dry land."

"Artos, if the rest of this mad scheme of yours is as perilous as this…" Bericus said in a petulant growl.

"Come now, amicus," their leader replied cheerfully, "this very evening I shall see you served meat, fowl, fish, whatever viand you wish …" Each suggestion brought a groan from Bericus, and Bwlch tossed his soiled mantle over his head.

"We're in the river now, lord," I said to the Comes Britannorum Artos-for his full style came back to me now. I could feel the difference in the ship's motion. "If you'd come up on deck now, sirs, you'll not find the motion so distressing as lying athwart it down here."

Lord Artos flashed me a grin and, hauling the reluctant Bericus to his feet, said, "That's a good thought, lad. Come, clear your heads of the sick miasma. Fresh air is what you need now to set you right." He gestured for me to help Bwlch as he went to rouse the rest of his Companions.

They staggered onto deck, almost falling back down the ladder at the impact of the cool air. One and all, they reeled across, with me hard put to get them to the leeward rail, lest they find their own spew whipped back into their faces.

"Look at the land," I suggested. "Not the sea, nor the deck. The land won't move."

"If it does, I shall never be the same," Bericus muttered with a dark glance toward his leader, who stood, feet braced, head up, his long tawny hair whipping in the wind like a legion pennant. Bericus groaned. "And to think we've got to come back this same way!"

"It will not be as bad on the way home, sir," I said to encourage him.

He raised his eyebrows, his pale eyes bright in amazement. "Nay, it'll be worse, for we'll have the bloody horses to tend… on that!" He gestured behind him at the following seas. "Bwlch, d'you know? Can horses get seasick?"

"I'll be sure to purchase only those guaranteed to have sea legs," the Comes said with a wink to me.

I looked away lest any of the others misconstrue my expression. For this was August, and the crossing had been reasonably calm. In a month or so the autumn gales could start, and those could be turbulent enough to empty the bellies of hardened seamen.

"Have you far to travel on land?" I asked.

"To the horse fair at Septimania," Lord Artos said negligently.

"Where might that be, lord?"

His eyes twinkled approval at my question. "In the shadow of the Pyrenaei Mountains, in Narbo Martius."

"That far, lord?" I was aghast.

"To find that which I must have"-and his voice altered, his eyes lost their focus, and his fists clenched above the railing-"to do what I must do …"

I felt a surge run up from my bowels at the stern purpose of his manner and experienced an errant desire to smooth his way however I could. Foolish of me, who had so little to offer anyone. And yet this Britic war chief was a man above men. I did not know why, but he made me, an insignificant and inept apprentice, feel less a failure and more confident.

"And it is mine to do," he added, exhaling gustily. Then he smiled down at me, allowing-me a small share of his certain goal.

"I need big strong mares and stallions to breed the warhorses we need to drive the Saxons out of our lands and back into the sea," he went on. "Horses powerful enough to carry warriors in full regalia, fast and far. For it is the swift, unexpected strike that will cause havoc among the Saxon forces, unaccustomed as they are to cavalry in battle. Julius Caesar used the alauda, his Germanic cavalry, to good effect against the Gauls. I shall take that page from the scroll of his accomplishments and protect Britain with my horsemen. If God is with us, the mares and stallions I need will be at that horse fair in Septimania, bred by the Goths from the same Libyan blood stock that the Romans used."

"Will not the legions return, lord, to help us?" I asked hopefully.

Lord Artos gave me a kind smile. "No, lad, we cannot expect them. This we must do for ourselves. The horses are the key."

"Do horses get seasick?" Bericus asked again, this time pointedly.

"The legions got theirs to Britain. Why can we not do the same?" the Comes asked with a wry grin.

"But how, lord, will you transport them?" And I gestured at the narrow hatch to the lower deck. Not even a shaggy Sorviodunum pony could pass through it.

"Ah, now that's the easy part," Artos said, rubbing his big, scarred hands together. "Cador and I worked that out." My eyes must have bulged at his casual reference to our prince of Dumnonia, for he gave me another reassuring smile that somehow included me in such exalted company. "We lift the deck planks, settle the horses below in pens well bedded with straw, and nail the planks back on. Simple, sa?"

I was not the only dubious listener; Bericus shook his head and Bwlch covered his mouth for a cough. But the Lord Artos seemed so sure, and Prince Cador had the reputation of a formidably acute man.

"How big are the horses from Septimania?" I asked.

Artos put his forearm at a level with his eyes. "That height in the shoulder."

I could only stare at him in amazement. "Surely horses are not meant to grow that big?"

"Whyever not, Galwyn? When we have"-and Artos gestured to his Companions, all of whom towered above me, though I was considered the tall one of my kin.

Then my uncle came on deck as the Corellia ran up the mouth of the broad Gallish river to the harbor at Bur-tigala as if eager to end her journey. I hoped that there would be a cargo for us to return with, or my uncle's humor would be sour indeed. On this outbound trip, there had only been a load of bullhides, though the seven passengers had been a godsend and made the sailing worthwhile.

"Bring down the mainsheet," shouted my uncle, and he grunted with approval as the mate sent a kick after one of the sailors who moved too slowly. "Stand by the anchor and the landing lines. Do you have to be told every time? You, boy, what are you staring at? Lend a hand. You'll never make a seaman at this rate!"

I raced to grab up the line, which I was expected to take with me when I jumped ashore to the wharf, to help secure the ship. In my mind, I rebelled at "making a seaman," even on a ship that had been bought by gold from my father, who was helping his wife's brother up in the world: a fact I knew but was astute enough never to mention even if the knowledge galled me.

"Look lively, you lump of a lad," he shouted at me, though the wharf was still too far away for me to jump. I'd fallen into the cold waters of the harbor often enough not to wish to do so now in front of Lord Artos.

I'd never make a seaman, not the sort my uncle wanted. My real value to him, and the reason he had taken me on in the first place and tolerated my other shortcomings, was my skill with languages and my ability to translate some of the barbarous trading dialects. This fluency allowed me to help him find good cargoes, and thus maintain myself in his good graces.

From childhood, I had been exposed to many foreign tongues. My father, Decitus Varianus, had been a factor and met folk from as far away as Egypt and Greece to the east, and some of the roving Nordic folk from the north. An outgoing, curious child, I had picked up snitches and snatches of many languages-sometimes hardly knowing what I was saying-but the facility remained and was improved upon by tutors in Greek and Latin, the Gaelic of our hill farmers, and indeed, whatever outlandish speech was spoken around me.

"What are you waiting for, Galwyn?" my uncle yelled at me as the distance to the pier narrowed slowly. It was still too far away, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lord Artos extend a hand as if to stay me from jumping at that command. "Scared, are you? Son of a bankrupt, taken in by me out of kindness to my sister-in-law! Are you going to be as much a failure as your father? Spoiled you are, and I trying to make a man out of you. Jump, I say. Jump!"

The ship was close enough now and I gathered myself for the leap, although, once again, Lord Artos's hand lifted to forestall me. But I knew my own abilities, even with all my limitations being shouted out in a litany.

I landed safely, whipping the line around the bollard and securing it in the bowline as I had been taught. I was rather pleased with myself, actually, since the jump had been wider than usual. When I looked back to see if Lord Artos approved of my feat, my chest swelled a bit to see him nod. Then I noticed that both Bericus and Bwlch looked less wan and pale. The ship still rocked in the current, but the fact that they were securely fastened to dry land again must have nearly restored them.

There was the usual bustle at the pier, with hawkers trying to sell fresh food and wine, and others offering their services in unloading cargo. My uncle gave unnecessary orders in a loud voice to impress the landsmen, but he was in no hurry to off-load the bullhides and show the Corellia to be carrying so little of value.

My main duty in landing done, I hovered around Lord Artos and his Companions, helping them with their packs and gear. I was unwilhng to leave their company. Well, his company.

"Galwyn," my uncle bawled, "make yourself useful for once. Help the lords with their baggage. And lead them to the Golden Swan. It's the only place in the port that would suit friends of Prince Cador's. Go with them so the landlord knows he's to give them his best… Only thing you are good for," he went on, though not as loudly, "is cackling in whatever it is they speak here! How you know what's what from all that gabble, I wouldn't know."

He shook his finger at me. "See that you listen well and make sure this Comes is well taken care of. You hear me, now, Galwyn."

"Yes, uncle … Of course, uncle … I understand, uncle," I said whenever I could insert a word. I tried not to give away how happy I was to carry out that order. It wouldn't suit Gralior to think he had me doing something I wanted to do.

Then my uncle, all obsequious, bowed Lord Artos and his Companions down the plank that served to connect ship to shore.

"The lad knows the way, Lord Artos, and the rough speech that's all the landlord of the Swan can manage. Not a civil word in that man's head, but Galwyn will let him know that he will have no more of my trade if he does not give you of his best." Then, almost snarling at me because Bericus, Bwlch, and the others were picking up their own travel gear-"Take the packs, Galwyn. Help them. Don't just stand there with both arms the same length. You're not a spoiled juvenile now. You work for your living."

Scooting out of the way of my uncle's heavy-sandaled foot, I tried to take one of the packs from Lord Artos, but his hand restrained me.

"Lead on, Galwyn, lad, there's a good fellow," the Comes said, and gave me a gentle push.

I caught one glimpse of Gralior scowling at me and hoped that he would have recovered by the time I returned. Perhaps, I thought traitorously, lean delay.

"And come you right back, Galwyn. There's cargo to unload," my uncle shouted just as we reached the first dwellings.

WELL, THE GOLDEN SWAN was a distance from the harbor. Even my uncle had to admit that, and I could always say that it took me a while to get the landlord to understand exactly what was needed.

In truth, I knew the local dialect so well that I had no trouble at all making Landlord Ercus understand that these guests were men of quality and rank. Besides, any fool could have seen that in a glance, and Ercus was no fool.

"My uncle, the good Gralior," I began tactfully, "said that only your inn would serve the Comes Britannorum and his Companions. You do have rooms available?"

"Of a certainty I do, young Galwyn," Ercus said, for he could be as tactful as I. "And as good a meal as any could ask for after a sea voyage."

"Well, they do need your very best food to settle their stomachs, Ercus."

And I reported my conversation to Lord Artos, who smiled and nodded. Then I went to the business of settling a price for the lodgings and determining how long they would be needed.

"You are hosting friends of Prince Cador, who trades here often enough for you to give your best price to these," I said. It took me time enough to argue his price down, but I did it. Fortunately, Artos had gold rings to pay for his needs and these were accepted everywhere.

"For the one room large enough to sleep the six of you, he will charge a quarter ring." I turned to Artos. "Another quarter to feed you, but the wine you drink is extra. He does have good wine," I added, for I knew Er-cus's reputation from other inns.

So the prices were settled, and as a meal could be served immediately to the men made very hungry by the three days' abstinence, I had no choice but to leave them to it.

I trotted the last few streets so that I would arrive breathless at the ship and perhaps prove to my uncle that I had arranged matters with dispatch.

THAT NIGHT, AS i LAY on a straw pallet in the hold of the Corellia, which was still redolent of seasick odors, I thought of Comes Artos's quest. Horses! How much I missed our horses. Before my father had lost all his substance in two seasons of disastrous storms, we had had many fine beasts in our stables. I had owned a fine mettlesome pony whom I had ridden as if we two were a single centaur. My father's sergeant-at-arms had grudgingly admitted that I was likely to make a competent horseman, and that was praise indeed from that stern fellow. What time I had to spare from my lessons and duties as my father's heir had been spent in the stable.

I ought not even to have thought of horses; they brought back too many painful memories. But I could scarcely help myself. Fine big strong horses, to be ridden by fine big strong men! Surely they'd need a horse boy to assist them on their travels? Surely I could make myself so useful to the Comes Britannorum that he would beg the loan of me from my uncle. That faint hope blossomed into determination as I lay there listening to the creaks and groans of the ship, and the restless slap of the river against her hull.

There is little that travels faster in a seaport town than word of rich patrons and mad quests. But I only learned of the rumors later, for at first light my uncle had roused me to accompany him while he bargained for some suitable cargo. Local wine and oil in amphorae, several bales of fine Egyptian cotton cloth, and some beautifully tanned and colored Ibernian leather were acquired by midmorning, and my uncle was not displeased, though never so much as a word of thanks- much less praise-rewarded my efforts. In truth, I had had no trouble with the corrupt Latin, larded though it was with the wretched Ibernian patois.

I was back on board the Corellia when the stable lad of the inn came with a message for my uncle from Lord Artos. My uncle scowled as he scanned the scrap of parchment, and then he glanced ominously at me.

"Humph. He's asked for you, boy. Seems as if you did as you were told for once and saw them well settled at the Swan. Now he needs your tongue to buy mounts for his journey," my uncle said. "Off you go, and use your wits for Lord Artos's sake in this matter, too. Prince Ca-dor would have him assisted in every way, even by such a one as you."

He gave me a light cuff to remind me of my manners, and I scrambled off the ship and after the inn lad as fast as I could-before the expression on my face could ruin this opportunity.

Not only did I know languages, I knew horses. Perhaps my notion of becoming indispensable to Lord Artos had some chance. My uncle had his cargo-with my help. Could I not now become part of this quest for great warrior horses?

THE Comes AND HIS COMPANIONS had slept late, despite the noise about the busy inn, and had just finished breaking their fast when I rushed in upon them. "Ave, Galwyn, well come," Artos said, expansively gesturing me to their table. It bore little but crumbs, and so many empty platters that I suspected his Companions had made up for the three days of meals they'd missed. Lord Artos caught my glance and his grin was mischievous. "I haven't understood a word that's been said to us. This Ercus, our host, garbles Latin as if he's chewing tough beef. Signs suffice in ordering a meal, but I'd rather know the price I must pay for decent mounts and to hire a reliable caravan leader."

"It's my honor, Lord Artos, my honor," I managed to reply, curbing an impulse to puff my experience in such matters. I would prove it with deeds, not words.

ONCE AWAY FROM THE PORT, Burtigala spread out, sprawling beyond the town boundaries originally set up by the Roman governors of the province. The bustling market area was built on the Roman design, despite the cramped tiny stalls that cluttered the space near the slave pens and along the animal fields. There were many people about, and I noticed the Companions staring at the occasional Nubian, black and splendid in richly colored robes; the slim, swart men whose rolling gait marked them as traders from the Levant; the big Goths swaggering an arrogant path through the crowds of small-statured folk. All, in their turn, marked my Lord Artos and his tall, muscular Companions and slowed their pace so that they did not overrun us. All around were the jabbering and liquid sounds of many languages, fragments of which I could identify as we passed the speakers.

"Is it always like this, Galwyn?" Bericus asked out of the side of his mouth.

"It is, sir; only sometimes much more so."

"More so?" Bwlch asked.

"This is not a market day, sir. Or a feast day."

"God has been good?" Bwlch muttered under his breath.

As soon as we reached the animal market, Baldus Afritus pushed his way forward to meet us, his sizable paunch clearing his path. He wore his oily smile and smoothed his soiled robes over his belly. I murmured a caveat emptor to Lord Artos. "Do not overtrust this one, Conies."

"Baldus Afritus at your service, noble lord," the man said unctuously in his heavily accented Latin, giving a Legion salute that Lord Artos ignored. Baldus now repeated his introduction in an even more garbled Gallic.

"Mounts," Lord Artos answered in Latin, moving to the rails, where he cast his eyes over the rugged ponies displayed. "Seven to ride, of at least fourteen hands of height, and four pack animals."

The smile on Baldus's face increased as he saw a fat profit for the day. "I have many fine strong ponies that would carry you from here to Rome with no trouble."

I snickered. Most of Baldus's "fine strong ponies" had no flesh on their bones, even this late into a fine summer. Their hooves were untrimmed, their backs scabby with rain rash, and their withers white with old sores from badly fitting pack saddles. And the majority were so small that Lord Artos's tall men would have to ride with their knees up under their chins.

"And what do you think of Baldus's offerings?" Lord Artos asked me, his eyes slightly narrowed as he gazed at me. Baldus watched me, too.

So, as if we were discussing the weather and not the beasts, I gave the lord my assessment, speaking in our own dear language, of which Baldus knew little.

"Not one that would last the trip?" Artos went on.

"Two only, lord, the bay with the star and snip, and the brown horse with the white sock on the off-hind."

Lord Artos gave a nod and walked on-despite Bal-dus's protestations-to the next pen, which, in truth, contained animals in little better shape. I could almost feel Baldus's stare piercing my shoulder blades.

In that lot, a second sturdy brown looked up to bearing the weight of one of the Companions as it dozed, hip-shot in the sun.

BY THE END OF THE DAY, after much looking and then considerable checking of teeth and tendons, backs, and wind-with either Bericus, Bwlch, or me backing a full dozen to judge their paces-Lord Artos struck a bargain for four. Baldus and another coper vied with each other, promising that more beautiful, stronger animals would be brought up from lush pastures farther from Burtigala so that the noble lords would have the most suitable beasts available. I was sent off to arrange for grain, a separate field to keep them in, a trustworthy lad to watch them, and a man capable of trimming their hooves for the journey.

"You've a keen eye, lad," Lord Artos said, laying a friendly arm across my shoulders as he and the Companions made their way back to the inn, "a light hand and a good seat. You're better riding the horses of the land than those of the sea, aren't you?"

I could only nod, overwhelmed with delight at his praise.

He clapped me companionably. "Will your uncle indulge me with your services for tomorrow as well? That is, after you've ordered a proper meal from our barbarian landlord."

THAT EVENING, TO MY SURPRISE and relief-for I had been having a sorry time of it loading cargo with the crew-Bericus came clattering down to the docks, leading one of the ponies purchased that morning.

"There's a merchant, an honest man by the look of him," Bericus said after a courteous greeting to my uncle. "But Lord Artos can make nothing of his speech. May we have the good offices of young Galwyn? My lord would deem it a great favor."

It was deftly done, for I saw Bericus slip something into my uncle's palm, which caused him to smile broadly and summarily gesture me to attend the Companion.

I was filthy, my cheek bloodied from a crate that happened to slip, and limping from another that had been purposely dumped on my foot.

"I cannot go to Lord Artos like this," I said, mortified at my state.

"The Comes cannot wait on you!" my uncle said, and before I realized his intent, he pitched me over the side of the ship. "You'll be clean enough when you've dried off," he bellowed down at me.

"Why, you sodden son of Mithras," Bericus yelled fiercely, "the lad's needed sound, not drowned!"

I had been in no danger, since I could swim well, and I was pleased that Bericus had rounded on my uncle for his treatment of me. I was even more grateful when Bericus hauled me up out of the water.

"Does he treat you often thus?" Bericus asked in a disgusted undertone.

"I am cleaner," I said ruefully.

Bericus grunted as he lifted a piece of seaweed from my shoulder and deposited it back in the harbor.

"The evening's warm enough that you should dry out on the ride back. Your tunic is certainly thin enough," Bericus added, and shot one more fierce glance at my uncle, whose back was to us.

We mounted, and the pony's warm back took some of the chill of the harbor water out of me.

TEGIDUS WAS THE NAME of the merchant, and his language was Gallic, though of a dialect I had heard but once, in my father's house many years before. He, too, wished to buy horses at Septimania, though his search was not for the same breed as ours. "Ours," indeed! How brash I was! He had trade to exchange as well, and he had worried about arriving safely in Septimania until he heard of the

Comes Artos and his Companions, such obviously valiant warriors. He had come as far as Burtigala by ship, in a fair-sized party, and he hoped that if the Companions joined him he could start the long journey in two days' time. They had but to finish buying mounts and pack animals, as they had brought their own supplies.

"I believe the man," Lord Artos said, smoothing his beard around his smile. "What is your opinion, young Galwyn?"

"Mine, sir?"

"Do you think him honest?"

"He is who he says he is, Lord Artos, for my father had dealings with him many years ago. I remember the name, and that the dealings were well conducted."

"Tell Tegidus that we would be glad to join him and his band, and we will set out tomorrow as soon as we have mounts."

"My lord, we could go now to the farm and buy the ponies before Baldus gets them and doubles the price, as he will if he knows there is a demand."

Lord Artos peered at the darkening sky. "Is there time?"

"Enough if you ride now!"

The twinkle returned to the Comes's eyes, and his beard framed a wide smile. "Inform Tegidus of your suggestion. We can offer him a mount to accompany us."

Bericus procured torches from the landlord, and the four of us were mounted and riding down the road in less time than it takes to tell it. We roused the herder from a bed he was loath to leave; he stood in the doorway, scratching himself.

"I've an early start in the morning to the market at Burtigala," he whinged, but brightened when he heard Tegidus clink his bag of coin.

"Perhaps we can save you that long journey and provide more profit than you would realize from Baldus," I said, winking.

"Ah, that one! Skin you of your hide and sell your meat for beef, he would!"

Granted, it is not generally advisable to buy ponies in the dark, but knowing hands can find curb and splint, and check hoof, tooth, and condition. These were sturdy mountain stock with flesh on their bones, hard hooves, and good frogs, and young enough to be easily resold on return. They were sure of foot, too, for which I was thankful as Bericus and I raced them up and down the hill to test their wind.

Before the glass could be turned for the new day, we left the farm, each leading four well-grown ponies. My arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets by the time we reached Burtigala, my legs ached with the strain of holding me on the withers of my own mount, and my thighs were chafed from the rough saddle pad.

"How is that you speak my tongue so well?" Tegidus asked me as we turned the animals out in the rented paddock.

"I saw you in the house of my father."

"Did you? And he was …"

"Decitus Varianus," I said, although my throat went tight in memory of my father and those happier days.

"Ah! You're the little lad who chirped so happily in any language he heard." Tegidus's white-toothed smile was briefly illuminated by the sputtering torches. "I was sorry to hear of your father's death, lad. You are well employed with Lord Artos, but you have been more than helpful to an old friend this day." He tucked something in my hand that I, in turn, lodged in my belt, too weary to dispute the unnecessary vail or set his notion of my employment to rights.

I DO NOT RECALL HOW, but I seem to have spent the night in Lord Artos's chamber, on a pallet by the foot of the bed he shared with Bwlch and Bericus.

Knowing that the loading of my uncle's ship continued that morning, I was somewhat concerned for my absence.

"Nonsense, lad," Lord Artos said. "Bwlch will return with you to spare you reproaches, but you have been of invaluable assistance to me, which is as Prince Cador charged your uncle. You have done no wrong."

When Bwlch and I reached the ship, the crew were already busy hauling bales and amphorae up the gangplank. My uncle's expression when he saw me gave me pause, though it turned courteous enough when he bowed and smiled at Bwlch.

"You have our thanks, lad," Bwlch said loudly as I handed over the reins of the pony I had ridden. As he took the lead from me, he pressed some coins in my hand, grinned, and winked, then clattered off, his long legs dangling almost to his mount's knees.

Hastily I concealed the coins in my belt. Just in time, too, for my uncle was hauling me by the ear back up the plank, cursing under his breath.

"Your fine friends are gone now, lad, and you'll do the work you were hired for."

I do not know what put my uncle in such a bad mood, for I had done the work I was hired for, in dealing for the cargo. Yet I still had to help load. It was a weary, weary day, with cuffs and blows and kicks to speed me at tasks. I did my best, but sometimes it seemed they left the most unwieldy lots for me, heavy beyond my strength; and then they laughed as I strained and heaved with little avail. I paid dearly that day for those hours with Lord Artos.

I would have paid twice the price, had it been asked.

I WAS SO EXHAUSTED by nightfall that I could not summon the energy to eat. Instead I crept into a space between deck and cargo where few could find me. In the dark, I transferred the coins and the gold ring Tegidus had given me into my worn empty pouch and tucked all safely back under my belt. As soon as I laid my head down, I was asleep.

The cold roused me, even buffered as I was between bundles and deck. The clammy sort of cold that suggests a dense fog. Groaning, I realized that my uncle's humor- for he had planned to sail with the morning tide- would scarcely improve. I could not stay hidden all day, however preferable that would be. When I heard the others stirring and grumbling at the weather, I crept out, shivering. Hunger drove me to the galley, and though I did manage to snatch a heel of bread, the cook put me to work immediately. I was struggling with a sack of the beans he intended to soak for the evening meal when the little pouch fell from my belt.

The first mate saw it and snatched it up. "Ah, what have we here? Light-fingered is he, too, this bastard scum of a Cornovian?"

I do not know what prompted me, save that I had had enough of him and of my miserable existence on the Core/to, with only the prospect of more of the same until my spirit was completely broken.

Because he held the pouch aloft, dangling from the drawstrings, I saw my chance. I leapt, catching the pouch; and in another leap, dove over the side of the ship, swimming through the still water and losing myself in the mist. Even the shouts and curses from shipboard were quickly muffled in that thick fog.

When my first frantic strokes exhausted me, I tread the water, terrified that perhaps I had swum in the wrong direction. Some early-morning garbage bobbed about me, and listening avidly, I heard the unmistakable lap of water against a shore. I struck out toward the sound.

At last I hauled myself out, gasping for breath and shivering in the raw air, but filled with a sort of triumph. I had escaped! I would join Lord Artos. Had he not said that I was useful to him with my gift of tongues? He would need someone to interpret Tegidus on the long road they would travel together. He would surely need my skills at Septimania.

I opened the purse to count my worldly wealth and found it far more than I had expected. Several small coins of the sort we use in Britain, and two, not one, gold rings of the sort that traders carry, current in any port. I could scarcely believe such good fortune and generosity. This should prove enough-for I knew how to haggle- to buy a warm cloak and leggings, as well as a pony from the farmer. I knew the one I wanted, too small for most men to ride but the right size for me.

None of the traders in the marketplace-all glad of any dealings on such a foggy morning-questioned my wealth or my reasons. I managed to buy some travel bread and grain.

BY THE TIME i REACHED the farm, the fog still held the coastline in its white roll. But the little bay pony I had noted grazed in the meadow. The farmer was in an expansive mood, having sold his best at a good profit to Tegidus and Lord Artos with no recourse to a villain like Baldus. He was quite willing to sell me the pony, for-as

I was quick to point out-it was indeed too short in the leg to suit a man of any tribe. Out of kindness, he patched together a bridle of sorts and showed me how to wrap the folds of my cloak to make a pad.

"I shall call him Spadix," I told the farmer, naming the pony for his bay color.

"A good name," the farmer agreed.

I trotted off up the road, certain that Lord Artos would not be far ahead.

BY EVENING, when I had met few travelers, and none I liked the look of, I was having doubts about the whole venture. I ate my travel bread by a stream well off the track, then hobbled the pony in a fair patch of grass. Curling up in my cloak, I spent an uneasy night. The ground had this tendency to roll beneath me, and I kept waking in a fright that I was still aboard the Corellia.

IT TOOK ME THREE DAYS to catch up with Lord Artos' band. They were making camp and someone had hunted successfully, for a pot burbled with appetizing odors on a tripod over a good hot fire.

Tegidus saw me first, rushing up to me, gesticulating wildly, his expression both welcoming and anxious. "The oak has answered my prayers, young Varianus, for I should not have undertaken this journey so cheerfully if I had known you would not be among their number, to translate the gabble they speak."

"Lord Artos, it is Galwyn, come to rescue us from ignorance!" Bericus roared. Before I knew it, my pony and I were ringed with babbling men, pulling me one way or the other.

'Tour uncle relented, then?" Lord Artos asked as he waded through the importunate crowd. He did not stop to hear what my answer might have been, and so I never had to give him a Me at all. "By God's eye, I'm glad enough to see you. Signs, signals, and smiles do not make good communications. You are well come, young Galwyn, well come indeed."

"He says that our animals are overloaded," Tegidus complained to me. "He will not let us cook a midday meal and insists that we all take a turn at watch at night. Watch at night? I? That is why we travel with him. So that he may guard."

"Those fools have packed their animals so badly that half have sores," was Bericus's plaint, "and they will not attend when we show them how to rearrange the loads properly."

It took me only a few minutes to explain, each to the other, what was amiss, and to set it right.

Then to my everlasting joy, Lord Artos encircled my shoulder with his great arm and led me to their campfire. No matter if I was listed as a runaway apprentice by my spiteful uncle-I would gladly spend the rest of my life on a galley bench to have the mark of Lord Artos's favor now. Bwlch heaped me a huge plate of rabbit stew, which did much to quiet my stomach. And I did not have to stand watch or help the cooks-at least that first night.

THE JOURNEY TO SEPTIMANIA W3S not without its trials: Unusual icy storms in the mountains being the least of them, and steep and rough roads the worst. The best evenings were when we'd sit about the campfire, talking. It was then I learned more about my lord Artos's plans. I also relearned certain historical facts that I probably had had from my tutor but had forgotten-more likely ignored, as I had been an indifferent scholar. The Comes spoke of Aurelius Ambrosius, who had been his mentor-and incidentally, one of the heroes who had followed Voru'gern when that prince had united the northern tribes to drive the Pict invaders back over Hadrian's Wall.

"Which is how the Saxons got invited into Britain," Lord Artos remarked with a rueful smile. "To help repel the Picts. Guests who have long outstayed their welcome."

His Companions nodded in solemn agreement.

"Why had Voru'gern done that?" The question burst from me, usually silent while my betters spoke.

Lord Artos grimaced at me across the fire, his face taking on a gargoyle look in the flames. "We had no other choice," he said, and I knew then he spoke as Comes Britannorum, for he was not old enough to have been part of that victorious force. "The Roman legions that had guarded the Wall for so long had pulled out, and Rome itself did not answer our pleas for assistance." He shrugged. "We had to have reinforcements."

"Hallelujah!" Bericus said with a wicked smile. I later learned that "Hallelujah!" had been the battle cry that Saint Germanus taught Vortigera's troops. Many felt that it had helped Vortigern succeed against the Picts.

"If 'Hallelujah' and the big horses help us drive the Saxons back into the sea, I will shout it at the top of my lungs," Lord Artos said, and all about the fire added, "Amen!"

I said nothing then, mindful that Lord Artos and his Companions wore the crosses of the Christian ethic and spoke of God, rather than gods; and of this I was glad. My uncle and his crew were pagan in their superstitions and I had never had a chance to hear mass in my uncle's employ. At that, I was exceedingly grateful my uncle was not my blood kin, but my mother's younger sister's husband.

My mother had looked down on that marriage as beneath what her sister could have achieved. Only now did I realize that my mother had done very well indeed to have attracted the substantial man my Christian father had been. He had adored her and given her everything she desired. For the first time, I thought how bitter she must be about losing the lovely villa that had been our home, she herself driven off with my two sisters after his death, each carrying naught but shawl-wrapped bundles of personal belongings that would have brought my father's creditors little in their selling.

THE NEXT DAY we traversed the first of the rocky gorges on our way to Septimania. Keeping Spa-dix far from the edges of those sheer-sided drops, I prayed silently but with great vigor and enthusiasm. We lost one pack mule over the side; but while Teg-idus mourned the loss of its burden, by the time we had crossed the last of the mountainous barriers to our destination, he was relieved that it had been the only casualty.

As we came down from those mountains, we could see the vast valley of Narbo Martius spread out, with the huge temporary town of the horse fair making brilliant-colored splotches with its tents-some even made of carpets from Arabia. We were two days early and used that time to settle in, camping apart from but near enough to Tegidus's site to continue the protection agreed upon.

I was sent with Bericus and Bwlch to find provisions from the stalls and tents of local vendors. A barbarous version of Latin was the main language, but I also heard, and stored, the camp jargon with which Latin was basely mixed. Some words and phrases I understood only from their context, but I was quick-minded enough to figure out what was meant.

Then, with Lord Artos and the others, we toured the animals on display: horses, mules, jennies, donkeys, and even a few of the grotesque parodies of horses that are called camels. One spat a green and slimy mass at me- which required me to wash all my clothing in the river. I was careful not to come close enough to one of those beasts again. The Companions were sympathetic, and they did not laugh at my misfortune, as my uncle's crew would have done. In fact, they took careful note not to suffer the same treatment.

But that was a small price for me to pay to see the display of horseflesh: the graceful Barbs with their dish faces and delicate ears that nearly met above their polls; the sturdy little steppe ponies; the small fine-boned animals who enlivened our afternoons with their races.

Bericus lost as much as Bwlch won in wagers on the races. Lord Artos merely enjoyed the sight.

We found the Libyans, finally, late on the second morning-fortunately, before the fair started. By then I had had a chance to become somewhat fluent in the camp jargon and could recognize the words in some of the atrociously accented Latin that was common. Indeed, by the end of the third day, having to translate all sorts of languages and bad accents, my head ached from the effort of concentrating.

Still, the Conies Britannorum had a way with him in dealing with anyone, trader or prince, that seemed to compel respect and foster truth and honesty. He spoke to many, and others sought him out. And really, he was easy to find, for he and his Companions towered over all but the burly blond Goths.

There were displays of the horses, showing then-paces, their skills, even jumping rough barriers to prove their agility. I marveled at the riders, usually slim wiry lads who stayed on the backs of fractious horses that reared and bucked and cast figures above ground as if the riders had been impaled astride. It was glorious and I was all but glutted by so many beautiful horses.

However, I did remember my duty to Lord Artos, and I discovered which one of the many traders could be trusted to sell us horses that were sound, free of vice, and unimpaired by those covert tricks by which clever traders hide defects. The man was an Egyptian, Paphnutius by name, and he was both gratified and pleased that he was the one Lord Artos decided to approach.

Paphnutius was of middle years, with piercing dark eyes and the most astounding hawk's nose on his thin swarthy face. He exuded a courtesy that others lacked.

"Come, effendi," he said, for his Latin was fluent if oddly accented. "Come into my humble tent and we will refresh ourselves. A man must have time to see and to reflect before any business." And he shrugged one shoulder to indicate that business was not as important as courtesy.

The Egyptian's tent was far more sumptuous inside than its exterior suggested.

"Sit, sit, do. Be comfortable," he said, with bows and sweeping gestures of his hand as he pointed to the thick cushions piled upon marvelous carpets. They glowed red and blue in a chamber lit by hanging lamps, which burned a scented oil. Then he clapped his hands. A woman-swathed all in black, so that only her eyes were visible-appeared at that summons; he gave her a curt order in his own language. It was too quick for me to be sure what he said, but I think it dealt with something to drink.

"You are from afar?" Paphnutius asked courteously, when we were all seated. I felt uncomfortable until I imitated his cross-legged posture.

"We are," Lord Artos said, looking amazingly dignified upon his cushion. "From Britain."

"Ah!" and Paphnutius's eyes went round with pleasure at such a revelation. "You have journeyed far indeed to see our poor horses."

Bericus gave a snort, because it was obvious to us all that the horses were far from poor.

Just then the woman returned with a beautiful brass tray and served us a thick, sweet beverage in tiny cups. One almost had to spoon it into the mouth, but this was evidently part of a bargaining ritual, similar to some I had seen my father perform with alien traders. I could almost think myself a child-and carefree-again in such an atmosphere.

"May I ask what this is we are drinking?" Lord Artos said, his tone one of surprised pleasure.

"It is called qahwa, and comes from a bean that is ground and then diffused in boiling water. The taste pleases the effendi?" Paphnutius was all concern that the drink might not please us.

I found it odd but certainly tasty: better than small beer or watered wine.

"It pleases me greatly," Lord Artos said, and paused to take another sip, smiling broadly. I caught him glancing about us to be sure we were also displaying pleasure. Which we all were. Odd the drink was, but I liked it.

Just then the woman reappeared, and this time her tray contained dates, pieces of ewe's cheese, and other sweet-tasting small cubes that were unknown to me.

"Was your journey arduous?" asked Paphnutius; and so we discussed that topic, and then the weather, and the situation of the camp, and only finally the vast number of horses that were on display.

At that point, Lord Artos rightly judged that business could be discussed, and with the sort of gracious reluctance that dealing with the Egyptian required, he explained his requirements. The mares should be proven fertile, preferably already in foal to Libyan stallions, and the stallions should be no more than four years of age and of proven virility. All the horses should be broken to saddle and bridle.

Paphnutius never asked why such breeding horses would be required by this foreign lord. Perhaps he could understand without explanation. After all, Lord Artos and all his companions were tall men; clearly they would need large mounts.

When we had finished our pleasant repast, Paphnutius guided us outside again and, clapping his hands, began the parade of the horses he had for sale.

"The mare is but four years old, and as you see by the foal at foot, she is fertile. This is her second foal." Then, from a parchment scroll he produced from somewhere in his voluminous robes, he rattled off a long pedigree that seemed to deal more with the performance of the dams than the sires. "She is in foal again, to the same sire."

This mare was big, wide hipped; and the foal at her foot was certainly five months old, for he had lost his fuzzy foal coat and was strong and lively. And nearly black. Both animals had good confirmation and a fine sheen to their hides.

Paphnutius then gave us the stallion's pedigree, speaking as fast as he could for some time. "Is he among those you have for sale?" "Oh, no," and Paphnutius looked almost shocked. "He is renowned for his speed, and much in demand."

Lord Artos nudged me briefly as the mare and her energetic foal were taken back to the picket line.

"When will she foal, Paphnutius?" he asked as he watched her movements.

"In your springtime. I have the date …" And he consulted his parchment roll. "Ah, yes, she was covered in the third month and then confirmed in foal. Yes, yes, she is a fine mare to breed from." He looked a little wistful and I wondered why. I didn't know then that the Egyptians and Arabs preferred mares to stallions. On the other hand, Bwlch looked concerned. "What's wrong?" I asked discreetly, in our own tongue, lowering my voice so that the Egyptian didn't hear us.

"Spring at Deva, where Artos plans to send the horses, can be a cruelly cold season. We breed so that the mares will have their foals in late spring. The later the better. At least that one is well enough in foal so she'll be all right on the sea journey." Bwlch shook his head, already worried about that leg of the way back to Deva.

The parade of mares, some with foals at foot and others guaranteed in foal, continued. I tried to figure out which ones met with Lord Artos's approval; his expression remained the same, pleasant, smiling, outwardly favorable, throughout the entire display.

The stallions were shown next, and worked in circles on long lines to show their proud paces. The second one, not much taller than the first, displayed himself with just that little extra flick of his feet, a prouder carriage of his head and tail, an assurance that caught the eye, and a blue gleam to his silky black hide.

"Now, that's just the one for me," Lord Artos murmured to Bericus, although he kept his expression bland. "I would name him Cornix."

"What else, Artos!" Bericus whispered back, and winked at me. Cornix means "raven." I did not then know that ravens are the birds of good omen for the Comes Britannorum.

Paphnutius had nine stallions, more than were needed; but not all measured up to the criteria in Lord Artos's mind. Finally the parade ended, and then Lord

Artos singled out his choices of mare and stallion. I missed out on only one mare and one stallion in my private selection.

"Ah, but come into my humble abode, Lord Artos," Paphnutius said then, bowing and scraping as he led the way, "for you must surely be thirsty. And one cannot discuss matters of such importance out here, where there are so many distractions."

So we retired again. More of the thick sweet qahwa did indeed moisten a throat made dry by the dust the parade of horses had swirled up around us. I did justice to the sweetmeats, too, and more exotic ingredients were served this time. I don't remember half of the subtle combinations that passed into my mouth and down my gullet, because I had to concentrate more on the nuances of bargaining.

Memory of my father's tactics returned to me, and if I say so myself-and Lord Artos was very kindly complimentary that evening-I did very well at this business. Better than I ever did for Uncle Gralior; beatings do not encourage as surely as praise. I also wanted to prove to Lord Artos how indispensable I could be. I did not aspire to become a Companion, for I was too young and would never be of that size, but surely I could serve my lord in many other ways that could further his ends. My instruction in the short Roman swords still favored by soldiers had ended with my father's death, but perhaps I could retrain and join Artos's cohort.

When the deals had been completed, Paphnutius himself took us to a compatriot, Nicetus the Elder, several tents away to secure the remaining few horses that were needed. And there, with appropriate ceremonies, view-ings, and bargainings, the remaining Libyans were purchased.

I was so excited that I could not sleep that night. I kept creeping out of our shelter to see if the Libyans were still picketed. Bericus was on watch.

"We won't lose them, Galwyn," he reassured me, and pointed out his sentry companion on the other side of the line. "Get your rest. You've earned it."

THE NEXT DAY Lord Artos sold off the now-unneeded ponies, for he would mount his men on some of the new acquisitions and lead the others. Spadix was not among those sold, because, he said, "I have no right to dispose of Captain Gralior's property."

I contrived not to look in his direction at that. Spadix was not my uncle's but truly mine, bought with the gratuities I had earned. However, this was not the time to mention that fact. And there was another reason to keep my pony. Cornix was the most unbiddable of the stallions-so wild he had had to be roped, tied, and twitched before a round bit could be inserted between his snapping jaws and a stout bridle attached to his head. Yet he was unexpectedly calm in Spadix's company. The sight of that little bay imp, who could easily stand beneath the stallion-and did so during the worst of the rains-was as ludicrous as it was beneficial.

The big mare that I now bestrode was nowhere near as comfortable to sit on as my short-coupled pony, and she had a foal at foot besides. It was a well-grown colt of some seven months, and he would reach up to nip my legs or heels if he felt I was interfering with his feeding. His dam was so broad in the withers I could barely get my legs around her and felt split apart when she trotted. Whereas the mate and his crew would have laughed their sides sore to see me, the Companions' smiles were good natured and not at my expense.

The stallions took much handling and I was glad that I was relegated to riding the more placid tempered mares. The stallions needed the firm hand and strong legs of the Companions to keep them under control. Bwlch and Bericus were considerable horsemen, the other Companions hardly less so. But Lord Artos was their superior, sitting lightly balanced on Cornix's black back, swaying slightly from the hips while the stallion cavorted or reared or bucked as it shied at the slightest unusual object on the track. He was well named, for like the raven, he was often without a foot to the ground, half in flight from some imagined terror.

Sometimes I think we traveled farther sideways and backward than forward, and yet we made good time on the return trip. Perhaps because we knew the way now, and its various hazards, and so could avoid them.

Once again, it was the conversations of the evening and the singing that entranced me. Bericus had a good tenor voice. Often Lord Artos would ask him for a special melody or song. On board the Corellia, I had forgotten about the music we used to have; my father and mother had kept a sweet-voiced slave who played the lyre while we dined with guests. The work chanteys that Gralior's men had sung as they hauled up sail or worked the capstan bar were coarse and repetitive, not truly music to my ear.

One of the mares bruised her foot on the rough gravel of the next-to-last pass we had to traverse. We had to wait a day, standing her in the cold running water of a stream to ease the soreness.

We spent a lot of time hanging about watching her when all the other tasks an open-air camp requires were done.

"No hoof, no horse," Lord Artos said at one point, grinning broadly at Bericus, who raised his eyes heavenward.

"Eh?" was Bwlch's only response to this cryptic remark.

"And what'll old Canyd say about these hooves, Artos?" Bericus asked.

"Oh, him?" And Bwlch dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. "He's not been on at you about those iron sandals of his, has he, Artos?"

"The subject comes up periodically," Lord Artos said.

"We'll have to travel fast over all kinds of ground. I meant to ask Paphnutius if he knew anything about such devices."

"Too late now," Bwlch said philosophically. "Though I saw no horses at Septimania with rims."

"Rims?" I asked, curious. I had never heard of the term in connection with horses.

"Iron costs money," Lord Artos said with an indifferent shrug.

Then the companions who had been hunting for the evening meat returned, and I heard no more about such sandals.

BY THE NEXT DAY, the mare could walk out well enough for us to continue.

On a fine bright warm afternoon, we came down out of the hills on the track past the farm where I had bought Spadix, and we saw Burtigala Port in the distance. I could just make out the masts of ships at anchor, and suddenly dread returned to me: What would I do if I encountered my uncle?

My anxiety deepened as we came closer to the town. Mounted as I was on the tall mare named Splendora, I could see over the heads of pedestrians, and I scanned the ships for the familiar lines of the Corellia. To my intense relief she was not in port.

Then there was the business of settling the horses for the night and taking up residence in the same inn that Lord Artos had patronized just weeks before. Again my talents as interpreter were needed to assure us of proper accommodations and a good evening meal. Landlord Ercus, undoubtedly remembering how well Lord Artos had treated him before, was all-obliging. I wanted to know but could not bring myself to ask the man if the Corellia had docked recently.

THE NEXT MORNING I was up at the crack of dawn, peering down through the mists that swirled up from the sea; but there were no new ships tied up at the dock. Somewhat heartened, I went to the field with grain to feed the horses before anyone else usurped the task. I had them all watered and fed before a sleepy Bericus arrived.

"Ho, Galwyn, you deserved to lie and get your growth sleep," he said, ruffling my hair. "You've no need to do more than your share of the work. Have you a mind to join us for mass?" he asked.

"Of course," I said with enthusiasm. In a town as large as Burtigala there would be a place for Christians to worship, but as long as I had been on board the Corellia I had never dared ask my uncle's permission to attend mass.

The church was small and dark, and the priest mumbled the Latin. I think he was somewhat nervous about having such fine lords in the congregation that morning. I had to keep reminding myself of my good fortune as I made the proper responses.

During the rest of the day I was too busy to worry about my uncle. Prince Cador had requisitioned two fat sloops in which the Comes could ship his all-important mares and stallions across the Narrow Sea. The ships awaited our arrival. Both were half again the size of the Corellia, far newer and better maintained. The sails were not patched, the lines looked fresh and showed no splicings, the paint on the hulls had recently been scrubbed, and there probably wasn't a barnacle anywhere underwater. Their masters had also, according to instructions from Prince Cador, made certain preparations for this special cargo. The deck planks had been removed above the cargo area, which was just deep enough to accommodate Cornix, the tallest of the Libyans, and wide enough for four or five horses. They would be loaded head to tail, side by side, so that each would be cushioned by its mates against the roll and yaw of a rough sea. The inside of the hull had been padded with straw-filled mattresses as another safeguard against injury. The horses at least would be spared the wind and weather on deck and, with any luck, arrive unscathed at their destination.

We had some time, I can tell you, getting the horses into this area. As the most placid of the five who were to be loaded in the first ship, Spadix was hoisted in first. During that operation, he whickered nervously, despite my shouts of encouragement from where I stood in the well of the ship.

"Easy, Spadix, that's fine, I'm here. You're not in danger!" I shouted, though I felt that/was in some danger. If the belly sling slipped, then Spadix would come crashing down on me. Still I didn't let that concern color my voice as I kept reassuring him. As soon as I could reach, I got hold of one hind hoof, then quickly I transferred my grasp to his front legs, stroking them as he settled to the deck, wild eyed, ears pricked, and nostrils flaring in his panic.

"There, lad, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I said, stroking his sweaty neck and gentling him out of his fright.

"Let's not delay, shall we, Galwyn?" Lord Artos called down to me. "We've four more to get in there, and then five in the other ship before dark, you know."

Stepping lively then, I unfastened the sling from Spadix and gestured for it to be hoisted out and away, as I walked the shaky-legged pony to his place against the starboard side of the ship.

The foal came next, and it was paralyzed with fear, so stiff-legged I could barely coax it to walk off the sling. His dam followed, in haste to answer the frightened neighs of her foal. I tied her next to Spadix. The foal pushed in against her, urgently needing to suckle, and she became calmer, although she kept her head up and stared about, wide eyed.

Although the sides of the hold had been cushioned with straw-filled mattresses, the overwhelming odors in this part of the ship were a combination of sea, oil, and the tar with which the sides of the ship were caulked.

Surely the mare had smelled much the same combination when she had been sailed across the Middle Sea. And maybe that's what was causing her distress.

The second mare was loaded almost without incident, though she snorted with nervousness at her strange new stable. Then I heard a good deal of shouting from the wharf as loud directions were issued by Lord Artos, with Bwlch and Bericus adding suggestions as to how to load Cornix.

"Blindfold!" Lord Artos cried. "He won't fear what he can't see. Where's something to blindfold him? I don't care if it's your best tunic, it'll cover his eyes."

"Hobble his feet, or he'll kick the lad to death as soon as he feels solid ground."

"Solid ground?" That came from Bwlch with a loud bark of laughter. "What's solid about a deck?"

"Hold him!"

"Watch his teeth! We should have tied his mouth shut, too."

The men began hauling the stallion on board. Craning my neck, I could see his black bulk, blindfolded and leg-tied, swinging in over the deck. Fortunately he didn't squirm as the mare had, though his sweat dripped down on my head. The lead chain dangled and I positioned myself to grab it.

"Whatever you do, Galwyn, don't remove that blindfold," Lord Artos called over the side.

"What about the hobbles?" I got hold of the long lead and carefully backed away from where Cornix would settle. He was swinging in the hoist and his teeth were bared, nostrils flaring red.

"Rear ones, I guess," Lord Artos replied, though his tone was dubious.

I got those off as the stallion was still being lowered, and since he was not the brightest horse I had ever met, he didn't realize his hind feet were free. He was also so confused that I was able to push him against the port side of the ship where he was to be tied. But I guess I didn't tie him to the ring soon enough. Nor did the sailors manage to get the deck planks down before he realized what was happening. Even I could feel that subtle compression of air above me as the planks were slammed back over the opening. The hammering made him nervous and he flinched with every blow.

Then I thought that if he could see he was safe here and the blows were only noise, he might settle. I uncovered his eyes.

And let loose a maniac.

He took one look at the dark confines of his new quarters and reared. I dangled from the end of his lead chain like a rat in a fighting dog's jaws.

When he came down, I dragged the lead rope through the ring, but he reared once more just as the last spike was being driven into the overhead planks. It missed his poll, but the shock of the point touching his ear startled him motionless with fright and I was able to pull the tether tight so he could not rear again.

I was as trembling and sweaty as he was. But beside him, Spadix nickered, and that seemed to comfort him. I had also brought on board some fresh grass I had pulled on the way to the harbor. This I fed to all the animals, hoping to calm them. I thanked the good Lord that they immediately fell to munching contentedly.

With them quiet, I could hear the muted shoutings as the Companions loaded the other ship with its five equine passengers. It seemed to take such a long time. Finally, I heard feet running along the deck above me and again had to soothe the horses, though I had run out of the fresh grass by then.

At length I felt the unmistakable surge of the ship getting under way and knew that this leg of our journey had begun.

WE DISCOVERED, in the worst way possible, that horses can get seasick, though not as humans do. The stallion covered me with his scourings, though my Spadix-eyes white with fear, all four legs poking out stiffly-did not succumb. Yet it was not a rough crossing by my standards, and both ships stayed within sight of each other the entire way.

Bericus and Bwlch, who sailed in the same ship with me, were rather heartened that they were not affected by the sea motion on this return voyage. Truth to tell, we were all so busy with the horses, soothing them, cleaning up after them, coaxing them to eat the fragrant hay, that we humans simply had no time to be sick.

Lord Artos inspected the horses morning, noon, and night, and had himself rowed across to the second ship to perform the same offices as soon as he was done on ours. Never was I more relieved to see the mouth of the river on the horizon that afternoon. The Exe led to the port just above Isca.

"You'll be on land before dark, my lad," I murmured to the stallion. He stood with his head bowed between his splayed front legs, his finely shaped ears drooping to either side of his elegant head, his black coat grimed and rough with sweat though we had groomed him morning and night. Remembering his fine displays on land, it was disheartening to see his proud spirit so low. But then his head lifted suddenly and his nostrils flared as he smelled land.

I could have wished his spirits had taken slightly longer to revive, for he proved his old self when the deck planks were removed and he could see daylight. He trumpeted like a wild thing, pawing and thrashing at his tethers. I had to use my own tunic to cover his eyes while the pony was hoisted ashore first. Then it was the stallion's turn, and finally the two mares' and the foal's.

Cornix was weak, though, from the journey, and had trouble keeping his legs under him. There was an apprehensive look on his face as he staggered first this way and then that, recovering land legs.

"Ave, Comes Artos," cried a glad voice, and Prince Cador himself came riding down to the dock, more men behind him. "Magnificent, Comes Britannorum!" he exclaimed as he dismounted, throwing his reins to an aide. Appraisingly, he circled the stallion, his face expressing his high opinion. "Truly magnificent. Sixteen hands high if he's one!"

"Seventeen is more like it, Cador," Lord Artos said proudly. "Look at the bone of him, the breadth of his barrel, the power in his haunches. Oh, he's gaunt enough from three days at sea, but we'll put condition on him soon enough once he's at Deva. I have called him Cornix."

"Appropriate enough for you, my friend," Cador said with a grin, glancing heavenward as if to see if any ravens were among the birds circling above. Then the prince turned to watch the first of the mares to be offloaded. "By Epona, the mares're up to his quality as well!" His bright light eyes widened as the mare swayed on feet made unsteady by her days at sea.

Bericus was at her side, giving her sufficient mass to lean against while she scattered her front legs. Then she whinnied wildly for her foal, who was already thrashing about in the hoist sling, nickering frantically for reassurance.

The prince clouted Lord Artos affectionately on the shoulder. "I believe you now, Artos-for I had my doubts before, I'll be frank. But these are splendid animals." Then he leaned closer to the Comes. "How long do you think it will be before we all can be mounted on such warhorses as these?"

I was struck by the look that suffused the features of the Comes Britannorum, that look of far seeing: not of trance or dream, but of a reality waiting just ahead of him. "Five, six, seven years, and there won't be a warrior without a black horse of this quality to carry him to battle against the Saxons. A stalh'on such as Cornix here can cover thirty, forty, maybe fifty mares without loss of fertility. And these are eager to do their duty. Each of the mares is also in foal, so any colts may also stand if they're up to the standard I mean to have."

"Aye, the Saxons will have to beware!" And the prince's expression turned grim. He pulled Artos to one side for private conversation. Out of the corner of my eye-for I was busy feeding the mare hanks of grass pulled from the roadside-I could see all the elation of success bleed from the Comes's face. I was saddened to see the change.

Suddenly my shoulder was seized in a fierce and painful grip. Startled, I tried first to twist free, and then to see who had made me captive.

"I have you, Galwyn Varianus!" Dolcenus bellowed, and there was no escaping the grip of the big, burly port officer. "Scurrilous wretch! Runaway apprentice! You'll come with me, vile ingrate, and stay in the lockup until your uncle returns."

It was too late for me to rue my stupidity. I should have known that Dolcenus would arrive to see what manner of strange cargo was being hoisted ashore in his precinct. I would have been safe aboard the ship; now my brave adventure was at an end. I could almost feel the manacles of a galley slave tightening about my wrists.

It was in fact Bericus's huge hand that prevented Dol-cenus from hauling me summarily away. That and the now-frightened mare whose lead rope I still held. She reared and Dolcenus released me, shouting at the top of his lungs for me to be recaptured immediately, and yelling for help against this resistance to his authority.

"What goes?" I heard Lord Artos cry.

"If you harm one of those mares, Dolcenus …" Prince Cador roared.

And the mare reared again.

Fortunately, Bericus was beside me and together we calmed her, despite the cries and imprecations that colored the air. Her alarm had infected the stallion and the nickering pony. I had to dance out of the way of the foal, who was trying to get under his dam's belly for safety.

It took the combined authority of both prince and Comes Artos to restore order. Then they heard Dolcenus's charge against me while I stood, head down, too humiliated to look beyond the belts of the men encircling me.

"It was my understanding," Lord Artos said when Dolcenus paused in his litany of my sins to draw breath, "that Captain Gralior dispatched the boy to be of assistance in our journey. In truth, Galwyn had already been of great help. Knowing that Gralior was due to sail, I had asked if I might have the loan of the boy while Gralior was at sea. The boy has knowledge of so many barbarous languages. How was it, Galwyn, that you joined us?"

When I could not answer, Comes Artos put his hand under my chin and forced me to look at him. Unmanly tears trickled down my cheeks and I could not speak for fear of blubbering.

"He came on a pony, with a travel cloak and leggings," Bericus said stoutly. I felt his encouraging hand on my shoulder blade, one hard thumb poking me to speak.

"He's a thief as well?" cried Dolcenus. "Branded he must be!"

"Nonsense," Prince Cador said. "I knew the boy's father. Too honorable, too Roman a family to breed thieves. He resisted the temptation to flee to Armorica. Speak up, lad."

"Aye, speak, lad," and Lord Artos's voice was as kind as his eyes, when at last I dared glance up at them.

"I bought Spadix with the small gold ring Tegidus thanked me with."

"You see, Dolcenus, this boy's no thief!" said Bericus.

"And the cloak and leggings with the coins you were kind enough to send me, Lord Artos! Please, I want to serve you, Comes Britannorum." And I dropped to my knees in the dust, as much because my legs would no longer hold me up as to plead my cause with proper humility. "It is the horses of the land that I know, not the sea!"

"Is the boy a free man?" Lord Artos asked Dolcenus.

The man sputtered and stammered.

"Yes, my lord, I am free. I was only apprenticed to my uncle, not enslaved." I glared at Dolcenus to make him speak the truth.

"That is correct," Prince Cador said when Dolcenus still would not speak for frustration. "I remember the case of Decitus Varianus now. He acted honorably in his circumstances."

"The boy's too good with his tongue to be lost to a barge captain, Lord Artos," said Bericus. "And he's got a fine way with seasick horses!"

"Horses!" cried Lord Artos, grabbing me up from the ground. "We can just make the evening tide if we hurry. Bericus, I'll leave you in charge."

"He is my guest," Prince Cador said quickly, and Artos raised his hand, grinning, in appreciation of the offer. "There's a field not far"-and he pointed up the straight track that led from the harbor-"where the horses can be tended until you've brought the rest across the sea. My hostlers can help him with this lot."

"I'll count them every morning, Artos," Bericus said with a broad grin, "to be sure they're all present and accounted for."

Prince Cador laughed. "Oh, I can wait, good Bericus, until I'm offered one."

"You'll join me, then, to drive the Saxons from our lands?" Artos said, with a leap of relief in his voice.

"You couldn't keep me away, Artos," Cador replied. "Now, we'll just get these poor sea-wrecked creatures to a decent pasture and then we'll await your return."

Artos then placed his hand again on Cador's shoulder. "Good prince, make what provision is needed to salve the uncle's wounded pride, and give this port officer something for his attention to duty. Young Galwyn, you come with me!" He transferred his big hand to my shoulder and hauled me along beside him back to the captain. "Can we make the evening tide? You've taken aboard supplies?"

"Even as you ordered, Comes," the captain said staunchly, pointing to crewmen loading while others were hammering the deck boards back into place.

WE MADE A SWIFT PASSAGE back to Burtigala with both ships, but the next return voyage was rougher and took its toll on man and beast. One foal broke a foreleg and had to be destroyed. Lord Artos himself severed its jugular vein, not wanting anyone else to have such a sad duty. Then the foal was heaved overboard. Its mare was so miserable, desperately trying to keep her balance, that she was not aware of the loss of her foal. A sailor swabbed the blood off the deck within minutes.

I was far too busy looking after the mares and my lord Artos to have time to be seasick. When we reached the port on the Exe Biver again, there were messages awaiting Lord Artos such that he could not accompany us on the third trip.

"Galwyn," he said when we had the beasts safely on the shore, "had I more men like you, I'd be sure of driving the Saxons forever from our lands."

"I thought, Lord Artos, it was the horses you needed to do that," I said, so relieved that I hazarded an impudence.

"The horses need men to ride them, Galwyn: men such as you!" And he clamped his great hand on my shoulder, his eyes gleaming with his fervor.

"My loyalty, my heart, my soul are yours, Comes Artos," I replied, dropping to my knee and bringing the hem of his garment to my forehead in an act of fealty, "to do with as you will."

He raised me to my feet, his eyes fastened on mine. "With men such as you, Galwyn Varianus, on horses such as these, we will be invincible!"

I trembled, as much with relief that he accepted my oath as from weariness. And he saw that, too.

"Enough of talk. You men are all exhausted." To be called a man by the Comes? I straightened my weary self. He went on. "Come, I've rooms for you, Bwlch, and the others for the night. And here are Bericus and some of Cador's men to help with the horses. They will need to be rested, but Cador has put a field at our disposal until we have them all here. Then what a cavalcade they will make on the road to Deva! I can hardly wait to see old Rhodri's eyes when they light on these fine steeds."