Warriors of Camlann Read Free Page B

lived.
    â€˜It’s all right, boy, we’ll take him with us. Here, Bedewyr, lend me your strength.’ The hound growled, but permitted him to lift the unconscious man, with Bedewyr’s help, towards the spare mount. What Bedewyr lacked in initiative was more than balanced by his powerful physique and youthful strength.
    The unconscious man was hardly smaller than Bedewyr himself, with the hard muscles of someone used to heavy labour or the butchery of war. He was clean-shaven and youthful – probably no more than sixteen or seventeen summers. His long dark hair was tied back in a braid – a soldier? Petronax looked at the youth’s hands – they were as calloused as any swordsman’s. He was a soldier; there could be no doubt. The proof lay in the scabbard of unusual intricacy and beauty that hung from his hip. It was of ancient design, gilded, in perfect condition and empty – a rich soldierthen, maybe a mercenary without his sword. Petronax helped Bedewyr secure the stranger as comfortably as possible to the horse and surreptitiously inspected him for further clues as to his origin. There were none. His clothes were nondescript – good-quality tunic, cloak and trews – though somewhat unusual in style. He had no visible tattoos, no crucifix and no amulet. Petronax’s characteristic curiosity would have to remain unsatisfied.
    The warrior’s war hound loped forward to stand guard over his master. It was time to go. There was a chance that whoever attacked the youth might still be in the vicinity.
    â€˜These Aenglisc get bolder with every passing moon.’ Petronax spat his disgust. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
    â€˜You think this was Aenglisc work?’
    Petronax suppressed his impatience with his companion whose youth did not quite excuse his stupidity. ‘Read the tracks, Bedewyr! Read the tracks! Look here.’ He knelt and picked up a couple of glass beads that lay all but hidden by the churned earth. He picked them up and held them between his thick workmanlike fingers so that they caught the light. ‘Are these trinkets Combrogi? Besides, who else would ambush two men here, in this godforsaken place?’
    â€˜Two men?’
    â€˜There are tracks that suggest two men and a boywere attacked here. Look! See for yourself.’
    â€˜Then two have been taken?’
    â€˜From here, yes.’
    Bedewyr looked sceptically at the flattened grass and mud. ‘It is far from the road. Why should anyone set an ambush here?’
    It did indeed seem an unlikely place for an ambush. It was miles from any hamlet and the nearest Combrogi settlement of any size; the city of Camulodunum was a six-hour ride away. It had been grazing land but even the sheep seemed to have moved on. The ground was littered with droppings but they were all old – the land had been abandoned no doubt when the Aenglisc moved inland.
    â€˜Why are we here, Bedewyr?’
    â€˜Because the Druid sent us?’
    â€˜Good – and why do you think he did that?’
    Bedewyr was about to answer that the ways of wizards made no sense to him, when a glimmer of unexpected insight illuminated his handsome features.
    â€˜We were here to meet these people who were ambushed?’
    â€˜Bedewyr, you delight an old man when you discover your wits. While such a miracle of understanding can issue from your lips there is hope for the world.’
    Petronax’s tone was light, mocking, but there was no mistaking the urgency with which he continued.
    â€˜It looks as if the Druid was not the only one expecting these particular visitors.’ He sighed and muttered to himself, ‘We should have travelled faster, but it is too late now.’ He fixed Bedewyr with a stern look. ‘Bedewyr, you will take this poor unfortunate to the Druid at Camulodunum. The Druid insisted that we bring the men we found here back to Camulodunum before the Council meets to choose the