Warriors of Camlann Read Online Free

new High King. He will be well cared for there. I will track the whereabouts of his companions. Guard this young man well. He is important to the Druid – and what is important to the Druid may be dangerous for the likes of us.’
    â€˜You think he is a wizard?’
    Petronax grinned and shrugged.
    â€˜By his build he is a soldier, but I do not know that he is not also a wizard. What signs would I see on his body if he were? If he is, you may be sure that Duke Arturus will not tolerate his presence in Camulodunum for long. You know what he’s like about unchristian superstition. I don’t know why he keeps the Druid so close by. Necessity probably – it keeps you pagan Combrogi happy.’ Petronax was suddenly serious. ‘Bedewyr – baptised Christian that I am – I would not lightly see the Druid upset. Ride swiftly and keep alert for trouble. I smell magic and I don’t like the stink of it.’
    Bedewyr nodded, trying to disguise his anxiety. Petronax made him nervous and the thought of magic,in which he fervently believed, terrified him. He fingered the lucky amulet that hung round his neck; it had been three times blessed and was a gift from his mother. It ought to serve. He forced himself to sound matter of fact: ‘Do you have a message for the War Duke, Arturus?’
    Petronax shook his head. ‘No. But tell the Druid I’ll find the others – the ones taken from here, and bring them back to Camulodunum. He has my word.’
    Bedewyr nodded and spurred his horse onward. If he could deliver the unconscious stranger safely to Camulodunum, he might finally win some respect from Petronax.
    It took longer than he would have liked to get back on the main road and when he had reached it, the echoing sound of the horse’s hooves on the packed gravel surface only served to emphasise his loneliness and vulnerability. The road ran arrow straight for as far as the eye could see. Although it was overgrown in places and he had to be alert for the occasional pothole, it was still the fastest route to the fortress. It was also the most exposed. His neck prickled with the sensation of being watched.
    He rode with one hand on the hilt of his sword, ready for trouble. When the injured man stirred and his hellhound barked, Bedewyr jumped so violently that he almost removed his horse’s ears with an uncontrolled slash of his sword. Trembling from the shock of thesudden sound, he guided the two horses towards a small thicket of trees, where he dismounted and tried to tend to the man. The dog no longer growled but bared his teeth menacingly as Bedewyr attempted to untie and lift the man from the saddle. It was a task he managed without grace and he feared that his clumsy mishandling of the man may have hurt him further.
    â€˜My thanks.’
    The man’s voice was soft and he spoke Cornovian, Bedewyr’s own tribal language, with an odd accent. Bedewyr was so startled it took him a moment to frame a stuttered reply.
    â€˜Y-you are welcome.’ Bedewyr laid him gently on the dew-damp grass, then regretted it and tried to lift him onto his cloak. The man winced with pain at each movement so Bedewyr settled instead for giving him a drink from his canteen.
    The right side of the man’s head was dark with dried blood and a deep gash was visible, where the white skull had been partly exposed. Bedewyr tried not to stare. The dog immediately started to lick the wound. The man patted the huge beast somewhat absently, but seemed unperturbed by the great beast’s ministrations.
    â€˜You were attacked?’ Bedewyr asked.
    â€˜I don’t remember.’ Again the soft voice spoke clearly but he stressed the wrong syllable of each word.
    â€˜Who are you?’ Bedewyr would not normally haveasked for a man’s name so bluntly but he was intrigued – he could place neither his accent nor his nationality.
    â€˜I don’t know. You don’t know