[Camulod 7] Uther by Jack Whyte

Author:Jack Whyte
Language: eng
Format: azw
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Fairy Tales, Legends & Mythology, Historical, Folk Tales
ISBN: 9781466822245
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2001-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

XXI

Within an hour of Nemo’s departure from Camulod in pursuit of Cassandra, Uther himself rode into Camulod from the west, accompanied by a small group of handpicked companions. It was obvious from their appearance that he and his party had been riding hard and taking little or no time to rest, because their horses were lathered and covered with dust-caked sweat and their riders looked little better. Uther rode his horse through the main gates at a fast trot, barely nodding an acknowledgment to the guards on duty, and made his way directly to the administration building, where he strode to the duty officer’s station and demanded to see Merlyn Britannicus immediately.

The duty officer that day was Jacobus, a junior decurion, an officer trainee, which was not unusual, since there was seldom any need for urgency or seniority in making the kinds of decisions that were called for in the middle of a normal working day in the Headquarters building. From the way Uther phrased his demand to see Merlyn, Jacobus knew, too, that his response was not going to be well received.

Snapping to attention and saluting Uther, he spun and clicked his fingers to attract the attention of one of the runners on duty, knowing as he did so that the gesture was unnecessary. The runner was already standing by his side, gawking from him to Uther and back, waiting for an explosion Jacobus sent the fellow running to bring the Legate Titus, the Commander of Camulod in Merlyn’s absence, then cleared his throat and informed Uther that Merlyn had left Camulod several days earlier, to ride eastward into the Saxon occupied area of Britain known as the Saxon Shores, in order to attend a debate among Christian churchmen in the old Roman town of Verulamium, approximately thirty miles northwest of Londinium, the former administrative center of Roman Britain. Jacobus awaited the explosion, but it did not come. Uther drew in his breath sharply, making a tiny, sucking sound of annoyance between his teeth, and then nodded abruptly.

“I’ll wait for Titus. Where should I wait?”

Jacobus indicated the cubiculum against the outer wall of the building that contained the commanding officer’s table and chair and was illuminated by a long, low, shuttered window partitioned by three pillars. Uther nodded his thanks and asked the young man for his name before he made his way inside to wait. Moments later, Titus himself swept in from the courtyard outside and joined him, closing the door behind himself and leaning back against it, slightly out of breath.

“Titus,” Uther nodded, smiling in greeting to his old friend. “You look well, but you sound a little puffed.”

“Age, Uther, age. I don’t have the resilience I once had.” Titus straightened and walked to embrace Uther with both arms, then stepped back, holding the younger man by the shoulders and peering up at him. “It will hit you, too, one of these days, no matter how immortal you believe yourself to be today. Before you know it,

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