“Appropriate enough for you, my friend,” Cador said with a grin, glancing heavenward as if to see if any ravens were among the birds circling above. Then the prince turned to watch the first of the mares to be offloaded. “By Epona, the mares’re up to his quality as well!” His bright light eyes widened as the mare swayed on feet made unsteady by her days at sea.
Bericus was at her side, giving her sufficient mass to lean against while she scattered her front legs. Then she whinnied wildly for her foal, who was already thrashing about in the hoist sling, nickering frantically for reassurance.
The prince clouted Lord Artos affectionately on the shoulder. “I believe you now, Artos-for I had my doubts before, I’ll be frank. But these are splendid animals.” Then he leaned closer to the Comes. “How long do you think it will be before we all can be mounted on such warhorses as these?”
I was struck by the look that suffused the features of the Comes Britannorum, that look of far seeing: not of trance or dream, but of a reality waiting just ahead of him. “Five, six, seven years, and there won’t be a warrior without a black horse of this quality to carry him to battle against the Saxons. A stalh’on such as Cornix here can cover thirty, forty, maybe fifty mares without loss of fertility. And these are eager to do their duty. Each of the mares is also in foal, so any colts may also stand if they’re up to the standard I mean to have.”
“Aye, the Saxons will have to beware!” And the prince’s expression turned grim. He pulled Artos to one side for private conversation. Out of the corner of my eye-for I was busy feeding the mare hanks of grass pulled from the roadside-I could see all the elation of success bleed from the Comes’s face. I was saddened to see the change.
Suddenly my shoulder was seized in a fierce and painful grip. Startled, I tried first to twist free, and then to see who had made me captive.
“I have you, Galwyn Varianus!” Dolcenus bellowed, and there was no escaping the grip of the big, burly port officer. “Scurrilous wretch! Runaway apprentice! You’ll come with me, vile ingrate, and stay in the lockup until your uncle returns.”
It was too late for me to rue my stupidity. I should have known that Dolcenus would arrive to see what manner of strange cargo was being hoisted ashore in his precinct. I would have been safe aboard the ship; now my brave adventure was at an end. I could almost feel the manacles of a galley slave tightening about my wrists.
It was in fact Bericus’s huge hand that prevented Dol-cenus from hauling me summarily away. That and the now-frightened mare whose lead rope I still held. She reared and Dolcenus released me, shouting at the top of his lungs for me to be recaptured immediately, and yelling for help against this resistance to his authority.
“What goes?” I heard Lord Artos cry.
“If you harm one of those mares, Dolcenus …” Prince Cador roared.
And the mare reared again.
Fortunately, Bericus was beside me and together we calmed her, despite the cries and imprecations that colored the air. Her alarm had infected the stallion and the nickering pony. I had to dance out of the way of the foal, who was trying to get under his dam’s belly for safety.
It took the combined authority of both prince and Comes Artos to restore order. Then they heard Dolcenus’s charge against me while I stood, head down, too humiliated to look beyond the belts of the men encircling me.
“It was my understanding,” Lord Artos said when Dolcenus paused in his litany of my sins to draw breath, “that Captain Gralior dispatched the boy to be of assistance in our journey. In truth, Galwyn had already been of great help. Knowing that Gralior was due to sail, I had asked if I might have the loan of the boy while Gralior
was at sea. The boy has knowledge of so many barbarous languages. How was it, Galwyn, that you joined us?”