Camulod Chronicles Volume 5. The Saxon Shore [1995, 1998, 2012] by Jack Whyte

Author:Jack Whyte [Whyte, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Forge (Tor) Books / Tom Doherty Associates / Macmillan [hc, pbk, ebook]
Published: 1995-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

I was wrong. Two hours later, Rufio had to shake me hard to bring me back to awareness, though I collected myself quickly enough, once stirred.

“Everything’s prepared,” he told me. “Dedalus and the others are fully armed and the horses ready and safely out of sight in the empty huts.”

I was sitting up by that time, looking around the interior of the hut in the light of two lamps. The shutters were closed tight over the windows, so I knew no light would spill outside. “Whose idea was that, to hide the horses? That was good thinking.”

Rufio grinned at me. “Mine. I was talking to Ded, and we guessed that whoever is out there might not have seen us or our horses, if they sneaked in here after darkness fell. Remember when we arrived? We were the first horsemen these people had ever seen.”

“I know. Old Liam’s daughter Shelagh pointed out the same thing to me last night, when first we heard of this alarum. Did Donuil arrive?”

“Aye, not long after you had gone to sleep. Said to tell you that his father’s people are prepared, but will give no signs of life until the attack begins. The gates lie open, too, he said, though forces are in place to close them quickly once the attack begins. In the meantime, they are an invitation to tempt invasion.”

“Good; Athol’s thinking matches my own. What’s that?” I had noticed a leather washbag steaming at the foot of my bed, where it hung from a wooden tripod, and could not take my eyes away from it. “Hot water? Is that for me?”

Rufio was grinning still. “Aye, to wash in. Ded again. He said if you had less than two hours’ sleep you wouldn’t be fit to walk unless you had the chance to wash the sleep out of your weary face. Personally, I think he spoils you.” He walked to the door. “Take your time. We have about an hour, perhaps more, before first light. But remember, we may have to fight, so tighten all your buckles properly …” He left, still grinning at his own wit, and I moved to the steaming water.

A short time later, feeling alive again and fully refreshed, I fastened the final buckles on my armour, took up my long, sheathed sword and carried it in my hand as I went to join the others in the largest hut, which had been selected as our gathering place when we arrived. They were all there, waiting for me, and I greeted each man personally. When I had done, Dedalus waved me towards an empty stool beside a table that held a partial loaf of bread, a bowl of roasted grain, a morsel of hard cheese, four withered apples and a cup of water, weakly flavoured with vinum, the harsh, red wine for which we had inherited a taste from Rome’s legions. “That’s the last of the vinum,” he said, as I picked the cup up and sniffed it. “From now on, it’s water or Eirish ale.

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