Crimson Chalice 02 The Circle of the Gods by Victor Canning

Author:Victor Canning [Canning, Victor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

7. Horses and Men

Arturo sat on his knoll for over an hour, watching the cavalry drills. He heard that Count Ambrosius had formed his cavalry into wings—the old Roman alae—of sixteen troops with each troop holding thirty-two men and had even named the commander of a wing in the old style of praefectus. From the size of the camp and the number of mounted men drilling he guessed that this Sabrina wing was no ordinary ala of around five hundred strong. This seemed more like an ala milliaria of twenty-four troops, each of forty-two men—around a thousand men in all—and no doubt commanded by a tribunus. Maybe it was yet far from its full complement of men and horses, but it was a larger force by far than any that Prince Gerontius could muster. Clearly the ambitions of the Count ran high and matched his pride in the ancestry he claimed for himself. He was a man full of nostalgia for the great days of past Roman glory, of Roman blood himself (though that was common enough now in this country), who longed to restore the glory of the old Empire.

Tired of watching the cavalry and overwarm under the midday sun, he slipped off his tunic, made a pillow with it for his head, and lay back, staring up at the sky. Men there must be, he thought, drilling out there on the plain, who longed for real not mock action and must know that it could not come this year for it was far too late for campaigning. To tempt any of them to his side he had nothing to offer. Now, if ever before, he needed help from the gods or some sign from them that there should be no death of hope. He shut his eyes and silently called on them, willing them to hear him, his teeth grinding with his fervour as he mutely named them … Epona, Nodons, Coventina, great Dis, father of all … great gods and small gods he named, battle gods and house hold gods… Badb and her brothers, and was tempted to call, too, to the Roman gods, for surely they held lien and interest still in this land, but turned away from the thought for fear of offering his own native deities.

He was brought from his silent fervour by the sound of horses’ hooves behind him. He sat up to see a man riding one pony and leading another up the knoll and, after a brief nod to him, dismount and hitch the ponies to a beech branch.

He came across to Arturo, carrying a drinking skin, and sat down by him. Without a word he drew the stopper from the skin, drank, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then the mouth of the skin, and handed it to Arturo, saying, “A gift is the best greeting. Drink.”

Arturo took the skin and drank. Expecting mead, he found that it was wine. Handing the skin back, he said, “I thank you.

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