Saxon: The Book of Dreams (Saxon 1) (30 page)

There was complete silence in the room. No doubt many of his audience were silently wondering which units would be detached from the main force.

The king turned to face Eggihard.

‘You as seneschal will lead the western division that will go around the mountains and head for Zaragoza where the wali is expecting us. The margrave will be your second in
command.’

I felt a glow of satisfaction. It meant that I was likely to see Osric again.

Carolus once again addressed his wider audience.

‘Our spies tell us that our entry into Hispania may encounter opposition. By entering Hispania from two directions we will crush our opponents between us like a nutcracker. That is why I
divide the army.’

His audience relaxed. There were murmurs of approval.

The king held up a warning hand and the assembly immediately fell silent.

‘The success of my plan depends on both halves of the army acting in concert.’

‘Your Majesty, what about the supply train?’ asked Eggihard.

‘Allocate the vehicles by their size. The smaller, lighter carts will go with the western division as it has further to travel and must move more quickly. Those details I leave to you and
my other captains to arrange.’

Amid the general shuffling and conversation which followed, I heard someone ask his neighbour, ‘Anyone know who we’re likely to be fighting?’

The questioner was a pear-shaped, rather worried-looking man with a strong accent. I guessed he was the commander of one of the contingents from the further reaches of the kingdom, possibly
Lombardy.

I missed the answer because Carolus had disappeared behind the velvet curtain and Hroudland was beckoning to me and Berenger. We pushed our way through the press of people and caught up with the
count as he was leaving the pavilion and heading in the direction of the tents allocated to the Breton cavalry. The count was in a foul mood and scowling.

‘Eggihard knows how to put pottage into soldier’s bellies and boots on their feet, but if it comes to a fight, he’ll be useless.’

It was obvious that Hroudland resented Eggihard’s appointment over him. I also wondered if the count would have preferred staying with the main army where he would have been more directly
under his uncle’s eye to impress the king with his military prowess.

‘Maybe there won’t be any fighting,’ I suggested. ‘We are entering Hispania at the invitation of the Saracens.’

Hroudland gave a snort of disbelief.

‘The Falcon of Cordoba won’t stand by idly.’

‘Who’s he?’ I asked.

‘The most dangerous man in Hispania. He claims that he is rightful overlord of those three rebellious Saracen walis who have invited us to help them. The last time there was an uprising
against him, he lined up a hundred of their leaders, kneeling on the ground, and had their heads chopped off.’

‘Then all the more renown for us when we defeat him,’ boasted Berenger.

This was dangerous vainglory, but I held my tongue. Besides, something was nagging at the back of my mind. We were walking past the horse lines and a tall, big-boned stallion had caught my
attention. It had its head in a feed bag while a groom brushed its coat. I had seen that same horse on the day I had gone to hunt deer near Aachen; it was the horse that the king had ridden. The
memory brought a shiver to my spine. The next animal in the line was another stallion, not as tall as its neighbour, but broader and more heavily muscled, a true war horse. There was something
eerily familiar about it, too. I stared long and hard at the creature, wondering where I had seen it before. With a sudden lurch of recognition, I knew. It was the same animal I had seen in my
nightmare many months ago, looming over me, one hoof raised. I had looked up in terror and seen blood seeping from the eyes of the rider. It was also the bronze horse of the statue Carolus had
brought from Ravenna, the statue I had seen dragged across the sheet ice.

I came to an abrupt halt, unable to take another step. A strange prickling sensation had come over me, paralysing me from head to toe. Unaware of what was happening, Berenger and Hroudland
walked away, leaving me behind. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to take my eyes off the war horse until a hand touched me on the elbow and I turned to see a messenger, dressed in royal
livery. He was looking at me strangely, and I heard his words through a haze. He repeated them.

‘Follow me, please. The king wants to speak with you.’

I was so numb with shock that until my boots were echoing on the wooden flooring I did not realize that I had been led back inside the royal pavilion. A small group of
courtiers was in the outer chamber and they eyed me curiously as I was taken straight past them and handed over to an attendant. He peeked in through the velvet curtain, and then held it aside just
far enough for me to slip into Carolus’s private quarters. As I entered I caught a whiff of roast flesh.

The king was eating a late meal. Seated at a plain wooden table, he was gnawing the stringy flesh from the leg of a partially dismembered goose carcass. A manservant was hovering nearby with a
jug of water and a napkin over his arm, ready to wash the grease off the royal fingers. The inevitable clerk lurked in a corner, wax tablet in hand, ready to take down notes. Otherwise the king was
alone.

He gnawed a strip of meat from the bone. His teeth were big and strong, a match for his great size. When he raised his face towards me, I again saw the grey, watchful eyes. A morsel of food was
trapped in his moustache.

‘Have you anything to report?’ he asked, not unkindly but with a simple directness.

My mind was in a whirl. The face of the king and the image of the man on the horse crying blood were overlapping as if in a waking nightmare. I blinked hard, feeling confused and nauseous.

‘Well, what have you to say?’ The tone was harder now. Carolus did not like to waste time.

‘Your Majesty, I returned from Hispania some two months ago, by sea. I have been with Count Hroudland,’ I stammered.

‘I know that,’ Carolus snapped. ‘Did you learn anything among the Saracens? Did you dream among them?’

Desperately I thought back to all that happened when I was with Husayn. All I could remember was the horrible dream of the snake lying across my lap.

‘Just once, Your Majesty. I dreamed of treachery.’

The king pointed the half-chewed goose bone at me as though it was a sceptre.

‘Tell me.’

I described my dream and how I had consulted the Book of Dreams to interpret its meaning.

Carolus listened in silence.

‘This happened when you were staying with Wali Husayn in Zaragoza?’ he asked when I finished.

I nodded.

‘Thank you. I shall be on my guard.’

I began to edge away towards the curtain. I was still deeply disturbed by my vision of the king on horseback, crying blood. I knew I should not speak about it, at least not until I knew what it
might mean.

‘One moment!’ he commanded suddenly.

I froze, wondering if he was about to cross-examine me.

‘My nephew is headstrong. If there’s to be any fighting in Hispania, he’ll be in the thick of it.’ It was a flat statement of fact.

‘I am sure he will acquit himself nobly, Your Majesty,’ I answered diplomatically.

‘And you? Do you know how to wield a sword as well as you can manage a bow?’

It seemed that Carolus had not forgotten the day I killed two royal stags. I thought it wiser to say nothing and waited for his next remark.

‘I am very fond of my nephew. I hope that you and your companions among my paladins will see to it that his enthusiasm does not lead him astray.’

I bowed my head obediently. The king had already reached out and was twisting the second leg off the goose carcass. It was clear that my interview was over, and I slipped gratefully out of the
room.

*

Hroudland’s poor opinion of Eggihard’s military leadership was to bring near-disaster on the western army and on me in particular. When we entered the foothills of
the mountains marking the border with Hispania, the count persuaded Eggihard that a detachment of picked cavalry should scout in front of the main column. Naturally Hroudland put himself at the
head of this detachment. He took Berenger, Anseis, Gerin and me with him, in effect creating his own roving command. His motive became clear within days. Simply put, our advance unit had first
choice of any plunder that lay in the army’s path. We ranged across the countryside and helped ourselves to any valuables in the towns and villages. We met little or no resistance from our
victims, and each evening gathered at our chosen campsite and piled up the booty we had found that day. Though the booty was meagre it reminded me of the scene when King Offa’s troops had
sacked my father’s great hall. So, whenever possible, I waived my share of any loot. My comrades thought I was behaving strangely. To them the chance for plunder was a powerful reason to go
to war, and Hroudland had an impatient, hungry look as he presided over the division of the spoils. He always kept a tenth for himself declaring that his expenses as Margrave of the Breton March
had left him in debt.

Understandably the villagers and townsfolk were glad to see the back of us when we moved on. Quite how unpopular we made ourselves was made evident to me one bright day in mid-May. By then we
were advancing around the end of the mountains, with their foothills to our left. That morning, as our unit prepared to fan out across the countryside, Hroudland asked me to take a couple of
troopers and investigate a low range of hills in the distance. He believed there might be a rich village hidden somewhere in that direction.

I rode off as instructed, the two cavalrymen trotting behind me. We were so accustomed to lack of resistance that all three of us left behind our cumbersome lances and shields. Our only weapons
were our cavalry swords and daggers. Very quickly we left the cultivated land and came into an area where the soil was too poor to sustain anything but thin, scrubby grass and clumps of small
thorny trees. We came across an occasional cattle byre built of dry branches but saw neither cattle nor people, and resigned ourselves to a long ride as the hills were some distance away. Gradually
the land sloped upward and, riding along reins slack, we allowed our horses to go at their own pace. By midday it was uncomfortably hot in the sunshine and when we stopped to water the horses at a
small pool of tepid water I removed my brunia, the leather jacket covered with metal scales worn by every cavalryman, and tied it to my saddle. I had already taken off my metal helmet. The two
troopers did the same.

We remounted and jogged along, following the faint trace of a path through the bushes. We reached the hills themselves and the land closed in around us as the path led higher. Here the ground
was bare of vegetation, and the track grew more and more stony, twisting and turning around the spurs of the hills. After some time, one of the troopers called out to me that his horse had gone
lame. The animal had stepped on a sharp stone; the sole of the hoof was bleeding. We were deep in the hills and I told the trooper to turn round and begin walking his horse back to where we had
watered before. His companion and I would continue ahead for another hour and if we found nothing, as seemed likely, we would turn back and rejoin him.

We rode on. Soon the road dwindled to little more than a footpath, obliging us to walk our horses cautiously in single file. To our left the hillside rose very steeply, a bare slope of loose
scree and shale. It climbed at least a hundred feet to a ridge whose jagged outline reminded me of a cock’s comb. On our right the ground fell away equally steeply, dropping into a dried-up
river bed. Here, the slope was dotted with boulders of every size and shape. They had broken away from the crest and rolled down the hill. Some had come to rest part of the way down, but most had
tumbled all the way into the ravine below.

My companion was the more accomplished horseman, and as the path grew even narrower, he offered to take the lead. My own horse, a chestnut mare, had a nervous disposition and was reluctant to
proceed.

After some twenty minutes of slow progress she lost her nerve entirely. She came to a halt, shivering and sweating, and would go no further. I kicked her hard in the ribs and shouted at her. She
put back her ears, stiffened her legs and refused to budge. I kicked again and shouted even louder. My shout came back to me as an echo from the steep slopes all around. As the sound faded I heard
a gentle clatter. Looking up and to my left, I saw that a small section of hillside close to the path had come loose and was sliding downhill in a thin trickle of gravel. The flow halted, there was
a final rattle of the last few pebbles, and a brief silence. Then a sharp, much louder crack sounded. I shifted my gaze higher up to the cock’s comb of the ridge above me just in time to see
a moderate-sized boulder break free and slip downward a fraction. It was about the size a man could encircle with his arms. It hung motionless and time seemed to stand still. In a heartbeat it
began to roll, tumbling end over end. It gathered speed, first making small leaps, and then as it struck a rocky ledge it was thrown outward, bounced, and flew with even greater force, hurtling
downward in a series of destructive arcs.

I shouted a warning to my companion, less than ten paces ahead. He had already seen the danger and put heels to his horse’s flanks. The animal jumped forward, and this action saved them.
The boulder went spinning past them and crashed on down the hill.

‘Are you all right?’ I called out. I was struggling to control my mare. The animal had been terrified into action and was scrabbling with its hooves, lunging from side to side. I
feared we would slip off the loose surface of the path and plunge to our destruction.

‘A near miss,’ came back the call, and the trooper gave a confident wave to reassure me. ‘We’ll be on safer ground soon.’

Underneath me the mare was still shaking with fright so I nearly missed the same ominous warning, a sharp crack and then the first thud as another rock, slightly smaller than the first, broke
away from the ridge line and began its lethal descent towards us.