On the far side of the stone pillars that supported the roof were smaller offices, where the Companions assisted the Comes Britannorum in the management of his domain. Doors led off to other rooms, and a stairway circled up to the upper floors of the building and its annexes. The whole building was a fine place from which Lord Artos would rule his province and send forth his troops of black horses. I had never been in such a grand place, although my father’s villa had been accounted a fine home.
I was so tired that I could not pay close attention to the conversations that went back and forth and around the table. I vaguely remember that the talk that evening, as every evening afterward, was inevitably centered on the Comes’s plan to unite the neighboring tribes. His arguments had not changed a bit from the plans he had told us those evenings around our campfires on the road to and from Septimania. But his words were spoken with much more conviction: as if he had refined reason and argument after constant debate on the issues.
That evening they were discussing, as well, how to involve the Catuvellavnii, whose lands lay closer to the Saxon menace. Representatives from that province were due to visit Lord Artos soon: one of the reasons he had wanted the Libyan horses here to display. But the discussions-though they were interesting to me hi terms of how Lord Artos won his supporters-were well beyond my attention that night.
When I had finished my meal, I was shown to the guest cubicles, where I was accorded a bed to myself-a luxury I appreciated after six days on the road.
DESPITE MY FATIGUE and the weariness of the previous night’s questionings, habit was strong and I was awake at dawn’s light. Dressing quietly so as not to disturb the other sleepers, I found my way out of the castle and to the stables.
The early-morning routine was in full progress, most of the horses already watered and fed by then- grooms, even my Spadix. He and Cornix were, of course, stabled together. I wondered who had decided that that was necessary, but I felt that Cornix, and Spadix, had undoubtedly made their wishes known. Someone had even combed the pony’s thick mane, and Cornix’s sleek coat gleamed with deep blue lights. As usual, Cornix whickered at the sight of me and Spadix added his comments in a shriller tone.
“You didn’t need to come,” said a lad whom I remembered as the one who had led Comes Artos’s gray stallion. He erupted out of the next stall, a pitchfork in one hand. Dark-haired, gray-eyed, and wiry in build, the lad almost seemed to resent my appearance.
“Habit, I fear,” I said with what I hoped was a rueful smile. I was a guest hi this place and had no rank at all.
Perhaps I was offending the order of these stables by appearing unasked.
“You’re the one who made the horse sandals,” he added, more suspicious than ever.
“I’m learning how,” I said with emphasis, and saw him relax his guard a trifle. Cornix pushed his nose at me for a caress and ducked his head so I could scratch his ears.
The boy’s eyes widened. “He knows you.”
“He should. He’s been in my charge since Lord Artos bought him at Septimania.”
“You went there with the Comes?” His surprise doubled and I could see a grudging respect in his manner, which I couldn’t fail to appreciate. I smiled back, warming to the lad, seeing in him traces of what I had been like a scant year before.
“I was, and I sailed back with him, Cornix, and my pony Spadix, here.” I could be proud of that adventure.
He gawped, his chin dropping as he was finally impressed by my bona fides. I slapped Cornix familiarly on his strong thick neck.
“I rode Cornix here-until Lord Artos claimed him on the road.”
“So that’s why you were up on Ravus,” he said.
“The gray?”
He nodded.
“Yes, we changed mounts. That’s a fine beast! Lovely gaits and a beautiful mouth. Do you have charge of him as well?”