Page 37 of The Dragon Ring
After a minute or two, the gate swung open, and a short, bandy-legged old man hobbled out.
“Oo’s that?” he grumbled, squinting at Cei in the evening gloom. “Wotcher want?”
Theodoric kicked his horse forwards. “It’s me, you lazy old bastard. Back again. And this time I’ve brought Prince Arthur with me. Get those gates open and let us in.”
The old man’s gaze slid to Arthur, recognition dawning in his rheumy eyes. Hastily, he tugged his scanty forelock. “Milord.”
He swung the gates open, then stood back out of the way while we rode through. The archway was so high we didn’t need to duck our heads as we passed through a huge storage barn filled with bulging sacks.
Beyond the thatched building lay a cobbled courtyard, and to its left, a stable block with stacks of hay and straw beside it. Opposite the gates, a high wall loomed, white paint flaking from its crevassed surface, the long, withered arms of a grapevine crawling over it on a trellis. To the right, facing the stables, rose the most Roman building I’d seen so far. Terracotta tiles covered the roof, and wide steps led up to a veranda, but it was now too dark for me to make anything else out.
Behind us, the old man closed the gates and slipped home a heavy wooden beam with a thud. Was it to keep us in, or those desperate looking peasants out? Everyone slid down from their saddles, so I followed suit. It was a great relief to have my feet on the ground again. At this rate I’d be bow-legged by the time we got to Viroconium.
As the old man pushed his way between the damp flanks of our horses, Theodoric caught his bony wrist. “Go tell your master Prince Arthur has arrived. We need food and wine, and beds for fifty. And some whores will be coming knocking– see they come to my quarters. No pretending to be asleep, or I’ll be after you.” He released the wrist, and the old chap went hurrying off up the steps toward the house.
I followed the men into the gloomy stables where I could just make out a row of stalls. Someone lit a torch in a wall bracket, and warm light and black shadows flooded the interior. My horse shoved his nose hopefully into the manger in his stall but came out aggrieved and snorting, with nothing more than dust. I undid his girth and lifted off the saddle and under blanket.
As everyone else was rubbing their horses down with twists of straw, I did the same. A horse with a heavy winter coat that’s been ridden for over thirty miles, ten of them at a canter, gets hot and sweaty but he doesn’t dry; his sweat just gets cold and then he risks a chill. Oh, for a set of horse clippers. Wouldn’t that make life easier. Copying Merlin, who was dealing with his own horse next to mine, I took the saddle blanket, unfolded it, and slung it over my horse’s back, fastening it in place with a long strap round his girth.
Farther up the line of horses, Arthur did the same for his grey, his face a picture of concentration. He seemed to have no airs at all, although perhaps caring for his horse took his mind off the purpose of our journey.
When the horses had been settled, it was time to tend to their tack. Merlin gave me a rag and shared his pot of grease with me as we gave saddles and bridles a good clean. It was clear that for these men their horses were their top priority. Probably higher than their women.
When we’d finished, Merlin picked up my saddle bags and, shouldering them as well as his own, led me out of the stables and across the courtyard to the steps up to the house, where we joined Arthur, Theodoric and Cei.
Arthur seemed to have come out of his reflective mood. “This is the Imperial Palace,” he said, as Merlin and I reached the top of the steps. “It was built by my great-grandfather, Constantine, toward the end of his reign.” He gestured back at the gateway in the long, thatched hall. “Not that bit. That was Claudius of Gloui. Before he was deposed and ran off to Armorica.”
“Does the city have a king?” I asked, ignoring the tempting red herring of who Claudius of Gloui had been.
He shook his head. “There’s a ruler, but he doesn’t live here. This is my father’s territory. Melwas holds it as a sub-kingdom, by the gift of my father. He’s off at Dinas Brent to the west. The Isle of Frogs. He doesn’t often come here.”
I wasn’t surprised.
Theodoric pushed open the door of the house, and we walked through into a shabby atrium where once a fountain must have played. Now the stone pool it had splashed into was broken and dry. Torches burned in iron brackets, leaving sooty patches on the faded wall paintings, and under our feet lay a black and white mosaic of stark geometric shapes.
Beside the broken fountain stood a stout, balding man in his late forties. His deep red toga half-covered his white tunic, and he wore sandals on his pudgy feet, which must have been cold. He clasped hands with Arthur, and then with Theodoric and Cei, then finally with Merlin.
“My Prince. Lord Cei. Lord Theodoric. Merlin.” He rubbed his plump white hands together. “It is a regret to me that we should meet again under such difficult circumstances. The Imperial Palace is at the disposal of you and your men.”
Something about this man seemed oily, with his wobbling double chins and his sunken piggy eyes. Something that set my skin crawling.
Leaning close, Merlin filled me in.
“Bassus, magistrate of Caer Baddan. Melwas’s creature. Theodoric stayed here last night. I expect he’s surprised to see him back so soon.”
“Is he a Roman?”
Merlin shrugged. “Is anyone nowadays? He affects the gown, but he’s no more a Roman than you or I.”
Well, I wasn’t a Roman at all, did he but know it. More likely an Anglo-Saxon than anything else. Did he imagine my world was a slightly updated version of his own? I doubted if he could have any conception of what my century was really like. Any more than we ourselves would have had any idea about fifteen hundred years in our own future.
Slaves came and showed us to our quarters. A girl in a long, cream-colored tunic led me through some doors and into a small garden courtyard. The fountain in its center was in no better condition than the one in the entrance hall, and the garden grew straggly and weed-filled, but the room wasn’t as bad as I expected. A single bed stood close against one wall, an iron-bound chest beside it. Merlin unslung my saddle bags and bade me farewell, but he wasn’t going far. He and Arthur, Theodoric and Cei all had rooms opening off this same courtyard.
I sat down on the bed. More tired than I’d ever been, I stretched my aching legs to ease the pain. My bottom and thighs were saddle-sore. Lying back with a little sigh of relief, I closed my eyes.
I must have fallen asleep instantaneously, something I’d never done before. A discreet cough woke me.
The girl stood at the foot of my bed holding a large bowl of steaming water.
