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Authors: N. M. Browne

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‘Perhaps.'

Larcius smiled at her and she felt a sudden weakness in her legs. He was so much more attractive when he stopped trying to turn everything into a compliment. He had the most beautifully expressive eyes, which turned her sinews to water. She was not used to feeling that way.

‘You could help me if you chose, Lady Ursa. You are so beautiful and different – I know that if you would accept my courtship, I would more easily forget my past.' He sounded earnest and Ursula was ambushed by conflicting emotions – a larger part of her than she had expected was thrilled that he thought her beautiful and wanted to ‘court' her. He was the most handsome and desirable man she had ever met, but the Ursula who had spent her life being mocked and excluded because of her appearance felt a resurgence of all her old stubborn pride. It was that Ursula who responded.

‘Where I come from, Larcius, being second best is not a compliment.'

There was nowhere to go on the narrow road. She wanted to spur her horse forward and gallop away from him and the hot flush of embarrassment she could feel on her face.

‘I meant no insult, Lady Ursa, I have the greatest respect for you – for your beauty and your skill.'

The unspoken ‘but' angered her more. ‘As we have already established, Larcius, I am not of gentle birth, the bad language of the Sarmatians is perfectly suitable for my ears and I could kill you in combat without breaking sweat. Your respect for me is very different from your respect for Gwynefa – I won't be second choice, a kind of consolation prize.'

‘My what?'

Inadvertently, Ursula had resorted to an English expression for which she could find no equivalent. She had run out of words to express her own confusion. She did not want to be treated like Gwynefa, she could not stand the fawning compliments, the constraints under which she was forced to live. On the other hand, she did not want to be seen as some kind of exotic animal, a wilder, freer woman whom Larcius might want for reasons she didn't want to explore. She was aware of the contradiction but could not possibly explain it.

‘I am sorry if I have caused you offence, Lady Ursa.' Larcius spoke with more sincerity than she had expected. ‘Ursa, you saved my life, I don't want your
ill will. You are not like the other women I know, I thought I could be blunter with you. I see now that I have erred.'

She was moved in spite of herself by his apparent honesty. ‘I'm sorry, Larcius. I find you very attractive but I don't want to be used as a distraction from the love of your life. I want to be the love of your life – or nothing.'

She choked on the last word. Ursula could hardly believe she was saying this stuff. She never used the word ‘love'. She squirmed in her seat and shrank away from the words as if to disown them almost as soon as she uttered them. She dropped her eyes and began to be fascinated by the fineness of her horse's mane, the texture of his glossy coat.

‘We are not so different then,' said Larcius softly. ‘Two romantics in an unromantic world.'

A denial was almost on Ursula's lips, but it was true. She had never realised it before. She was a romantic. She wished she'd kept her mouth shut. She did not want that to get around the Sarmatians, it was not the image she fought so hard to project.

Fortunately, further conversation was avoided by the return of Cynfach.

‘All is in good order.' He gave a terse smile of relief.

Ursula remembered that for all his knowledge and apparent confidence he was an untried commander of
Arturus's best troops. She smiled too. ‘How long to camp?'

‘We will eat in the saddle and make full camp tonight.' His anxious excitement was scarcely suppressed. ‘We're on our way now. The Aenglisc won't know what's hit them!'

Taliesin sipped soup cautiously, struggling to control his shaking limbs.

‘I think you might be able to help me, Dan. What you've got, this empathy thing is one part of a wider gift. I think you could lend my merlin form more strength and power so that I could scout longer and further without this happening. It would be of huge use to Arturus.'

Dan, picking at his own meal of bread and soup, looked uncertain. ‘I don't know. You're not exactly an advert for it.'

‘What?'

‘I mean the state you're in does not encourage me to follow your example, but I suppose we have to try it.'

‘Tomorrow,' said Brother Frontalis firmly, ‘the High King has asked for the three of us to follow on to the fortress. We're to travel in one of the wagons. Arturus wasn't sure Taliesin would be in any state to ride. I think, Gawain, that you should wear your armour under your cloak – just in case.'

‘Just in case of what?'

‘Oh, ambush, insurrection, armed confrontation, that kind of thing.'

‘I have told you, I will not fight.'

‘But our enemies don't know that. They have heard the stories about the Bear Sark. Having you looking like a warrior will make the men feel safer, and morale is important.'

‘I already thought of that,' said Dan with a grin, opening his cloak to show the splendid scale armour that Arturus had given him.

‘And it's a pity the Lady Ursa is not here to see you in all your splendour,' said Brother Frontalis with a knowing smirk. ‘I think she prefers her men with a bit of military style.'

Taliesin snorted into his soup.

‘Brother Frontalis, if you had seen Dan in his Bear Sark days you would put a tighter rein on that tongue. Help me up! I'll not ride in a wagon like a pregnant woman, nor will I wait for tomorrow. I'm Combrogi, not a bloody Roman!'

Chapter Twenty-two

Ursula ached in every bone and muscle of her body by the time they rode into the fortified camp. It was an impressive site. Deep trenches had been dug to enclose the camp and each ditch was surmounted by a high turf embankment from which protruded an object of sharpened stakes, shaped like a Christmas star and designed to impale anyone who tried to leap the ditch for the comparative safety of the turf embankment. The embankment itself was patrolled by armed infantrymen. They were given hot food and directed to the site, which had been marked out for their tents. Ursula being of high status had a tent of her own near that of the main command. She was relieved not to have to sleep near the disturbing presence of Larcius or, indeed, any of the other men. Although she had lived in Macsen's world for many months she found the lack of privacy that everyone took for granted very difficult to accept. The men even sat next to one another and chatted on
the loo. It was a relief to be alone. She removed her boots which were damp and cold. They ought to have been rubbed with fat to preserve and soften the leather but she was too tired. Instead, she warmed her feet on a hearthstone she had begged from the containing wall round the fire. Her feet were so cold and numb that the warmth was almost painful. When at last her feet were warm she slept, almost at once – the deep sleep of the physically exhausted, without fears or dreams. She was not sure her body could survive two more days of such heavy riding; the novelty had worn off and she wanted to go home.

Dan arrived at the camp several cold, wet, hours later. He too had been forcibly reminded of the discomforts and privations of this world. He also wanted to go home. Taliesin had managed to ride for about half the journey until his weakness forced him to hitch a ride on one of the wagons containing supplies. Brother Frontalis, who was built like an ox, had difficulty finding a horse that could manage his weight and so he joined Taliesin in the wagon from time to time under the pretext of resting his mount. Bryn rode stoically at Dan's side; his endurance and good humour only increased the respect Dan had for him. Dan had always thought that he'd had a difficult time. His mother had died when he was fourteen and his father spent too much of his time and their money at the pub, but Dan's difficulties were
minor compared to Bryn's. Dan had known that he was the sole survivor of his tribe. Dan himself had seen the corpses of Bryn's sister and father. What Dan had not known was that Bryn's four elder brothers had all died in conflicts with the Ravens and that his mother had died in childbirth, bearing him. Dan's own shame at abandoning him in the Roman fortress increased. It must have been hard for Bryn to understand the difference between the Ravens who had wiped out his tribe and the Romans with whom Dan was allied. Dan was not sure he understood it himself.

The next two days passed in much the same way as the first. Dan talked a lot to both Taliesin and Brother Frontalis about the various techniques of mental and spiritual discipline they knew of or had heard about. Dan was determined to find a way to deal with what he now regarded as an affliction. Sometimes the troops sang marching songs and war songs and even fragments of the great songs to pass the time. Dan stayed with the rearguard and did not try to contact Ursula: the news that Taliesin was restored was common knowledge and he did not want any further disagreements about his decision not to fight. He was not yet strong enough to deal with her disappointment.

Ursula talked to Cynfach and Larcius by turns. She found Larcius much the easier company; he joked and told her humorous tales of his travels, whereas Cynfach
kept trying to teach her about Roman military tactics. For the first time she began to relax in Larcius's company and even to enjoy the disturbing effect he had on her body. Perhaps if they began again as friends then gradually he might find that she was not second best at all? Larcius even dropped his ridiculously complicated way of talking and even Cynfach laughed a couple of times at the account of his exploits overseas.

They arrived at the fortress at dusk on the third day. It was some way from the Roman town of Aquae Sulis more commonly known as Caer-Baddon and some distance from the road, so that they had to ride across fields worn to mud by the feet and hooves of the vanguard. The fortress was not what Ursula had been expecting, lacking the grandeur of Macsen's cliff-top fortress at Craigwen. It was merely a flat-topped hill surrounded by three perilous escarpments, and a gentler slope surrounded by a series of ditches. It was surmounted by timber ramparts, which enclosed the whole of the top of the hill. Nonetheless it was an awkward climb to the top even using the easiest route. The only entrance to the fort, a stout and narrow gate, was situated at the top of the most difficult slope. They had to walk the horses in single file to this gate and it was very fortunate that no horse was injured in the process. The land was boggy and treacherous and the conditions at the summit were not much better. There was a large,
timber, feasting hall, though it had not been occupied for many years. The blazing fire and cooking smells that greeted the Sarmatians could barely disguise the damp, mouldy smell of disuse that permeated the building. It was a defensible site, but quite why anyone would want to defend it was rather beyond Ursula. There was dry straw for the horses and makeshift stables had been hastily erected from the remains of several smaller buildings. Ursula hoped that there were no high winds expected – they looked less than substantial. Tents had also been arranged in the same formation as at the camp to provide shelter for the light cavalry, the infantry and the servants who helped feed the men and horses. Conditions were crowded, and seeing the state of the place, Ursula's mood plummeted along with her hopes of getting a bath. She would be lucky to find somewhere dry to sleep; the ground was a quagmire. She gave the care of her horse over to one of Arturus's civilian grooms, fully aware that the Sarmatians never allowed any one other than themselves to tend to their horses. She did not think they would think badly of her: they did not appear to believe her bound by the same rules as everyone else. Braveheart followed her into the hall where long tables had been set up and where the light cavalry and infantry were already eating. She called and waved to the many familiar faces of the men she had come to know in Camulodunum but was more concerned
with working out how to get her share of the stew. Eventually, a servant brought her a generous portion. The baggage train arrived just as she was finishing eating. She ate standing up as close to the fire as she could decently get. She was too sore from the long ride to even consider sitting down. Arturus was nowhere to be seen. A horn blew and men disappeared to help unload the wagons of the supplies, which had to be carried up to the summit. The supplies included not just food but a variety of weapons, a large supply of boulders, numerous heavy barrels and a great wooden machine that had to be pulled up the slope on rollers using thirty of Arturus's strongest men. She was told, with pride, that it was the last Roman ballista in working order in Britannia. She did not know what that meant. Ursula was also surprised to discover that the wagons were not to be fully unloaded but that some supplies of weapons and grain were to be taken on to Caer-Baddon itself, which was to be occupied by Arturus's forces from Fort Cado. Ursula found this confusing. She was not at all sure that she had understood Arturus's plan.

‘Ursula!'

‘Dan, I didn't know you were here. How is Taliesin?'

Braveheart leapt on his master and enthusiastically washed his face with his tongue, nuzzling him so energetically that he struggled to stay on his feet. When
Braveheart had calmed down, Ursula gave Dan the remains of her stew, as the efficient feeding system that had prevailed at camp seemed to have broken down.

‘Thanks, I'm starving. Taliesin is fine. He's with Brother Frontalis and Bryn. I came to look for you. How long have you been here?'

‘Not long. Why are we here? It's a bit of a dump isn't it?'

‘It's not what I expected.'

‘How are you, you know, coping?'

Ursula forced him into eye contact.

‘Really how are you?'
Ursula's voice was insistent in his mind.

‘I'm coping better. I can sort of distance myself a little. Taliesin talked to me about it and so did Frontalis. I can still feel more than I want to but it isn't swallowing me up like it once did. How are you?'

BOOK: Warriors of Camlann
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