BY THE END OF THE DAY, after much looking and then considerable checking of teeth and tendons, backs, and wind-with either Bericus, Bwlch, or me backing a full dozen to judge their paces-Lord Artos struck a bargain for four. Baldus and another coper vied with each other, promising that more beautiful, stronger animals would be brought up from lush pastures farther from Burtigala so that the noble lords would have the most suitable beasts available. I was sent off to arrange for grain, a separate field to keep them in, a trustworthy lad to watch them, and a man capable of trimming their hooves for the journey.
“You’ve a keen eye, lad,” Lord Artos said, laying a friendly arm across my shoulders as he and the Companions made their way back to the inn, “a light hand
and a good seat. You’re better riding the horses of the land than those of the sea, aren’t you?”
I could only nod, overwhelmed with delight at his praise.
He clapped me companionably. “Will your uncle indulge me with your services for tomorrow as well? That is, after you’ve ordered a proper meal from our barbarian landlord.”
THAT EVENING, TO MY SURPRISE and relief-for I had been having a sorry time of it loading cargo with the crew-Bericus came clattering down to the docks, leading one of the ponies purchased that morning.
“There’s a merchant, an honest man by the look of him,” Bericus said after a courteous greeting to my uncle. “But Lord Artos can make nothing of his speech. May we have the good offices of young Galwyn? My lord would deem it a great favor.”
It was deftly done, for I saw Bericus slip something into my uncle’s palm, which caused him to smile broadly and summarily gesture me to attend the Companion.
I was filthy, my cheek bloodied from a crate that happened to slip, and limping from another that had been purposely dumped on my foot.
“I cannot go to Lord Artos like this,” I said, mortified at my state.
“The Comes cannot wait on you!” my uncle said, and before I realized his intent, he pitched me over the side of the ship. “You’ll be clean enough when you’ve dried off,” he bellowed down at me.
“Why, you sodden son of Mithras,” Bericus yelled fiercely, “the lad’s needed sound, not drowned!”
I had been in no danger, since I could swim well, and I was pleased that Bericus had rounded on my uncle for his treatment of me. I was even more grateful when Bericus hauled me up out of the water.
“Does he treat you often thus?” Bericus asked in a disgusted undertone.
“I am cleaner,” I said ruefully.
Bericus grunted as he lifted a piece of seaweed from my shoulder and deposited it back in the harbor.
“The evening’s warm enough that you should dry out on the ride back. Your tunic is certainly thin enough,” Bericus added, and shot one more fierce glance at my uncle, whose back was to us.
We mounted, and the pony’s warm back took some of the chill of the harbor water out of me.
TEGIDUS WAS THE NAME of the merchant, and his language was Gallic, though of a dialect I had heard but once, in my father’s house many years before. He, too, wished to buy horses at Septimania, though his search was not for the same breed as ours. “Ours,” indeed! How brash I was! He had trade to exchange as well, and he had worried about arriving safely in Septimania until he heard of the
Comes Artos and his Companions, such obviously valiant warriors. He had come as far as Burtigala by ship, in a fair-sized party, and he hoped that if the Companions joined him he could start the long journey in two days’ time. They had but to finish buying mounts and pack animals, as they had brought their own supplies.
“I believe the man,” Lord Artos said, smoothing his beard around his smile. “What is your opinion, young Galwyn?”
“Mine, sir?”
“Do you think him honest?”
“He is who he says he is, Lord Artos, for my father had dealings with him many years ago. I remember the name, and that the dealings were well conducted.”