Lord Artos took them with a grateful smile, and before I could clasp my hands together to offer him a leg up, he had vaulted to Cornix’s back.
“Take my horse, Galwyn! Manob, my greetings, and thanks for the safe conduct. Can you help exchange saddles here? Cei, Geraint, Gwalchmei,” he said to those who had ridden down with him, “you shall have the pleasure of riding my black horses back to Camelot. I’m eager for your opinion.”
The change of saddles was accomplished with alacrity and gave the Comes a chance to try out the war training Rhodri had given Cornix, making the stallion walk from side to side and turn on the forehand, then turn on the hindquarters, all of which Cornix did smoothly. I would remember to tell Rhodri how wide Lord Artos smiled in the testing. Then Lord Artos gave the signal, and as the gray spurted forward instantly with the others, I found myself still in the van as we rode-not quite so furiously-up the road to Camelot.
How they had made it safely down the road at the pace they had come was beyond my understanding. Despite occasional loads of sand and pebbles to improve the footing and provide traction for the heavy carts, the roadway was slippery with mud. We had to thread our way past men and supplies of all sorts. Two of the Libyans, and even some of the troopers’ mounts, shied when going by noisy, squeaking, heavy-wheeled drays that were bringing stone, timber, slates, and bricks up the steep and zigzagging slope.
We rode through the great wooden gates. Here the outside wall was finished and thick as a lance was long, well able to withstand any assault the Saxons might try to make. It could probably withstand even the stones of a catapult.
After the main gates, we passed through the outer court and took the next hill at the gallop. At the top, Lord Artos reined to his right, passed an unfinished inner wall, and rode into a large court that was separated from the active construction by a high wall. This somewhat muffled the bustle and the other sounds of building. We of the van followed him, but glancing back over my shoulder, I saw the rest of the troop taking a different direction. Then I looked forward again and had to catch my breath at the magnificence of the several-storied building in front of us.
The Comes kneed Cornix up the wide shallow flight of stairs, the stallion’s metal sandals clattering on the stone. Bending over ha his saddle, Lord Artos called out to those within.
“Come, you all, and see how well we shall be mounted to drive Aelle and his sons from Britain!”
Men and women swarmed out of the edifice, startling Cornix so that he reared, pivoted on his hind legs, and came down so hard on his forehand that I was certain even as fine a rider as the Comes would be dislodged. But Lord Artos only laughed, placing such a firm hand on Cornix’s neck that the animal came to a full and complete halt, snorting but obedient.
The gray I was on suddenly quieted, and at the same time I felt a pull on the reins. Looking down, I saw a lad in livery with his hand on the bridle. I was about to protest when those Lord Artos had summoned came down the stairs to examine the Libyans more closely.
Rhodri had trained the horses well, for although they rolled their eyes, they remained four square at the halt- almost, I thought, as if they knew they were on display.
“These have been covering all those mares you assembled, Artos?” asked a man-one of the Companions, to judge by his bearing. He ran a knowing hand down Victor’s near foreleg. “And is this what made all that clanging?” he cried, fingering the rim of the iron sandal.
“Ah, so Canyd has finally succeeded with the hoof sandal?” And now the Comes glanced at me to verify that.
I nodded. “They are all shod, Lord Artos, to protect their hooves …”
“‘No hoof, no horse.'” Lord Artos roared with laughter, slapping his leg in high good humor. “Eh, there, Galwyn?”