“Well, they do need your very best food to settle their stomachs, Ercus.”
And I reported my conversation to Lord Artos, who smiled and nodded. Then I went to the business of settling a price for the lodgings and determining how long they would be needed.
“You are hosting friends of Prince Cador, who trades here often enough for you to give your best price to these,” I said. It took me time enough to argue his price down, but I did it. Fortunately, Artos had gold rings to pay for his needs and these were accepted everywhere.
“For the one room large enough to sleep the six of you, he will charge a quarter ring.” I turned to Artos. “Another quarter to feed you, but the wine you drink is extra. He does have good wine,” I added, for I knew Er-cus’s reputation from other inns.
So the prices were settled, and as a meal could be served immediately to the men made very hungry by the three days’ abstinence, I had no choice but to leave them to it.
I trotted the last few streets so that I would arrive breathless at the ship and perhaps prove to my uncle that I had arranged matters with dispatch.
THAT NIGHT, AS i LAY on a straw pallet in the hold of the Corellia, which was still redolent of seasick odors, I thought of Comes Artos’s quest. Horses! How much I missed our horses. Before my father had lost all his substance in two seasons of disastrous storms, we had had many fine beasts in our stables. I had owned a fine mettlesome pony whom I had ridden as if we two were a single centaur. My father’s sergeant-at-arms had grudgingly admitted that I was likely to make a competent horseman, and that was praise indeed from that stern fellow. What time I had to spare from my lessons and duties as my father’s heir had been spent in the stable.
I ought not even to have thought of horses; they brought back too many painful memories. But I could scarcely help myself. Fine big strong horses, to be ridden by fine big strong men! Surely they’d need a horse boy to assist them on their travels? Surely I could make myself so useful to the Comes Britannorum that he would beg the loan of me from my uncle. That faint hope blossomed into determination as I lay there listening to the creaks and groans of the ship, and the restless slap of the river against her hull.
There is little that travels faster in a seaport town than word of rich patrons and mad quests. But I only learned of the rumors later, for at first light my uncle had roused me to accompany him while he bargained for some suitable cargo. Local wine and oil in amphorae, several bales of fine Egyptian cotton cloth, and some beautifully tanned and colored Ibernian leather were acquired by midmorning, and my uncle was not displeased, though never so much as a word of thanks- much less praise-rewarded my efforts. In truth, I had had no trouble with the corrupt Latin, larded though it was with the wretched Ibernian patois.
I was back on board the Corellia when the stable lad of the inn came with a message for my uncle from Lord Artos. My uncle scowled as he scanned the scrap of parchment, and then he glanced ominously at me.
“Humph. He’s asked for you, boy. Seems as if you did as you were told for once and saw them well settled at the Swan. Now he needs your tongue to buy mounts for his journey,” my uncle said. “Off you go, and use your wits for Lord Artos’s sake in this matter, too. Prince Ca-dor would have him assisted in every way, even by such a one as you.”
He gave me a light cuff to remind me of my manners, and I scrambled off the ship and after the inn lad as fast as I could-before the expression on my face could ruin this opportunity.
Not only did I know languages, I knew horses. Perhaps my notion of becoming indispensable to Lord Artos had some chance. My uncle had his cargo-with my help. Could I not now become part of this quest for great warrior horses?