“I’ll wake you if there are any problems,” he said, and I think I was asleep before he left me.
IT WAS CLOSE TO MIDDAY, from the way the sun was shining in, when I was gently shaken awake by another soldier to tend the lame horse of one of the Atre-batii princes. He had not been shod, so it was not precisely my expertise needed but Master Glebus’s. Still, the bounds of traditional duties blurred in emergencies. I roused Borvo, asleep on the floor by my pallet, and we examined the footsore animal.
The horse had split his hoof to the bulb of the foot and it would be weeks before he was sound again. I trimmed as much as I could and contrived a sandal that would relieve pressure on the sorest point of that foot, putting another plate on his right hoof to balance him.
“But what shall I ride to the battle?” I was asked.
“I heard that replacements are being brought in from nearby farms,” I said, for Borvo had mentioned that sometime the previous evening.
Three more warhorses arrived. Borvo, Maros, and I stopped long enough to eat and then were back to work. Even those who had been skeptical of the benefit of the iron rims decided then1 horses required them-now!
AND THEN, SUDDENLY, preparations were as complete as possible. A high mass was said that evening for the success of the endeavor; all the lords received the sacrament and special anointings and blessings from the religious community. Everyone who could cram his body into the chapel was included in the final blessing, and certainly in the prayers of all those who would stay behind.
The next morning, at false dawn, shriven, anointed, and blessed, Lord Artos and his Companions mounted their black steeds in the courtyard. The ladies tied favors onto their lances.
Lord Artos himself had no wife yet, though a prestigious marriage was rumored. No doubt, when news of his victory came, the family would be all too willing to align themselves with the dux bellorum.
Borvo and Maros were mounted on two halfbreed Libyans big and sturdy enough for such hefty men. I, of course, had Ravus, who was quivering with excitement. Even our two pack ponies, laden with tools and iron bars, were fractious.
We stood to one side as the Comes Britannorum led his Companions toward the mam road. For once it was empty of its usual traffic.
I don’t know who was more surprised, myself or Cor-nix, when he was hauled back on his heels and those behind Lord Artos nearly ran up his back.
“Galwyn Varianus,” bellowed my lord, pointing his gloved hand at me. “What are you doing… there?”
I looked about me stupidly.
“Take your position instantly”-and now he pointed to where Bericus, Bwlch, Bedwyr, and Drustanus were trying to control the cavortings of their Libyan stallions. “I want you where we can watch out for you,” he said, making me aware that he knew what had happened in Cornix’s stable. “The others are to fall in behind my Companions. Immediately behind my Companions.” And he scowled at me when I was too startled to move. “Now!”
Ravus moved almost without my urging, as if he felt he knew where he belonged, and Bericus grinned back at me.
“No hoof, no horse!” he exclaimed, eyes dancing with mischief.
I felt cheered for the first time since Spadix died.
THE EUPHORIA OF OUR DEPARTURE lasted us wellinto the day, with only brief stops for horses to rest and men to relieve themselves. We ate in the saddle at the walk. Otherwise we traveled at a good trot, the foot soldiers in the dust behind us but keeping up with the horses for all they had only two legs to go on. I wondered fretfully if Iswy were among them.
The second day, after a night checking loose sandals, I caught what rest I could in the saddle. Once again I blessed Ravus’s smooth gaits. But because I slept on horseback, I scarcely recall much of the journey, though I do remember people cheering Lord Artos with “See the black horses! See the big, beautiful black horses!”