Camulod Chronicles Book 8 - Clothar the Frank Read Online Free Page A

have no friends in this land. Bear that in mind until we are safe afloat again, and let's be on our way."
    We moved on immediately, having established among ourselves that the march would be endured by all without complaint of any kind, no matter how grave the nuisance of blistered feet or the pain of cramped and aching muscles.
    We camped that night in a quiet woodland glade between two low hills, having seen not a sign of human habitation since we left the settlement at Glastonbury, and sometime before dawn a gentle, steady rain began to fall. We rose up in the predawn darkness and broke our fast as we moved on, huddled against the weather and chewing on roasted grain and chopped dried fruit and nuts from our ration scrips. Some time after noon the rain dried up, although the clouds grew ever more threatening and sullen, and towards mid- afternoon I began to recognize landmarks: hill formations and a single grove of enormous trees, sheltered among the hills, that was achingly familiar. I stopped there, signaling a halt, and as my escorts spread themselves out to rest, vainly trying to find dry spots beneath the towering trees, I sat on my garron, gazing north-eastward towards the mist-shrouded brow of one particular hill that, had it not been there, would have permitted me to see beyond it one of the dearest sights of my young manhood. I was glad the hill was there, however, for I had no desire to see beyond it and I felt not the slightest temptation to approach closer to it.
    From its crest, I knew, I would have been able to look out across a stretch of forested plain to another distant, solitary hill that stood like a sentinel among the rich lands surrounding it, its crest crowned by a strong-walled fortification that had once housed the first true High King of all Britain, Arthur Pendragon, with all his family and friends, his armed might and his great and lofty and ultimately impossible ideals. I had no doubt it would be inhabited still, but it was no longer Camulod, and I had no wish to know who ruled there now. I climbed down from my horse and ate and rested with my young men, and then I marshaled them again and struck onwards, south by east on the last leg of my journey, just as the clouds above us pressed even lower and the rain began to fall in earnest.
    For three more hours we made our way through trackless, sodden countryside, our wax-smeared woolen foul-weather cloaks rendered almost useless by the hissing, incessant downpour and the sheer volume of water that cascaded upon us from every tree and bush and blade of grass we touched in passing. I rode following the contours of the land, half blinded by the downpour, remembering clearly that once there had been pathways here, but, little used now, they had disappeared in all but a few barren or sheltered places. I pressed on in silence, saying nothing because there was nothing I could have said to comfort my hapless companions, who must have been grieving, I had no doubt, for the open, sunny June skies of their homeland far to the south, beyond the seas.
    And then we arrived at the point I had been seeking, a point invisible to everyone but me. I slid down from my mount's back, mindful of the steep and treacherously muddy slopes that lay ahead of me, and guided the garron carefully down the narrow, winding path that led beneath the crown of trees that obscured all evidence of the small, hidden valley below. Clovis and his friends followed me, muttering quietly among themselves and treading with great caution as they wondered where we were going and why I had brought them to this desolate and forsaken place. They fell silent, however, as I led them out of the dark tunnel of the descent into the open, grass-floored glade that lay beside the tiny lake at the bottom of the hill. A small building of gray stone at the far end of the glade betrayed no signs that anyone lived there, although its roof appeared to be intact and the door looked to be solid and tight-shut. I