The Ring of Gyges - Chapter Seven

“Nothing,” Peter thought as his feet passed over the very threshold of Langres, “nothing could be quite so terrifying as this! Wondering, as you pass by the men guarding your enemy’s town, if by any chance you actually are COMPLETELY invisible to them.”

He looked straight ahead but even so, a glimpse of the roadway below made him uneasy. Did he see the slight possibility of his shadow, and the larger one belonging to Anir, shimmering away beneath him? There were huge torches burning at either side of the main gate.

“Like beacons they are, so bright, so bright. I’m sure those guards will see us any minute now!”

Peter felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. His knees felt weak. A little more, just a few more steps and… thank goodness, they were through!

Anir pulled Peter at once behind the wall and away down a side street. When they found what seemed to be an empty shop, they flung themselves inside and crouched down under the counter. Anir removed his hand from Peter’s and Peter could see him again.

“You needn’t bother turning the ring, Peter, I can say what needs to be said without seeing you. We must get our bearings. I think, if this is a bakery, which by the smell of bread and the crumbs on the floor it must be, then I guess we are not too far from the Forum.”

“Why?”

“Because the Forum is the central meeting place. You ought to know that, Peter, you being the son of an archaeologist! It will have all kinds of shops near to it, of course. It is rather like the towns at home that have a large market place.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Look, that very large building at the end must be the Basilica.”

“It looks very broken down.”

“Yes, I think that the troops of Lucius Iberius have been practising upon it what they hope to do to us later! Now there should be some large houses around here. Let us pass behind the Basilica and the portico over there and see what we can see. I must ask to close my fist around yours once more so that I also am concealing the jewel that will shield us from enemy eyes. Thus the Guardians and their descendants have learnt to use the Ring in times of extreme emergency. Tonight there will be a curfew. That means any stranger found wandering about here will be slain on sight.”

“What about Gormant’s other spies?”

“Did you not notice Peter?”

“What?”

“They had changed clothes for some that the Goth prisoners were wearing. Lucius will think they are his own troops.”

“Were some of them Goths? I didn’t know.”

“Yes Peter, many of them are Goths. Now come along, we do not have time to waste. Remember, Gormant rides at dawn, come what may. If by any chance we are separated, you make back for the thicket Peter, as fast as you can.”

“Yes Anir.”

Both closed their fists over the Ring and slipped silently into the darkened street beyond.

“I think that I am glad that they have not invented street lights here,” thought Peter to himself.

Occasionally a lamp or candle glowed in a window, otherwise there were only stars to light their way. Anir was desperately hoping that they might chance upon the headquarters of Lucius sooner than later.

They crept on, behind the shops that were round the Forum. Around the back of the Basilica they went. Then, as luck would have it, Anir noticed a large building off to the right. The Villa had two stories and was obviously the domicile of some town notable that must had been requisitioned by Lucius and his Generals.

The Villa was full of light; lamp light and torch light. Obviously, Lucius and his officers did not see the need to be very secretive and were completely oblivious to the danger of the spies that presently walked the streets of Langres.

Peter and Anir were just about to cross over the street, when they nearly walked into two of Lucius’ legionaries who were marching into the house. This made them fall backwards into a wine shop. Peter fell over a pitcher and broke it. Fortunately it was empty, but unfortunately the legionaries heard it break.

“What’s that, Clementinus? I heard a noise. There shouldn’t be no noises ‘ere.”

Both men looked around and naturally could see nothing.

“I reckon it’s one of those cats them high-ups always like to have in their houses. Always getting out they are and making a nuisance of themselves, not to mention the horrible noise. Come on, there’s nothing else here and the old guard have promised us a wet of the lips… if we get back smartish, that is.”

The two soldiers then proceeded on their way.

“This is a piece of real luck Peter,” said Anir, “we’ll follow these two would-be drunkards and see where they go. Then I hope we may find out what we have come for.”

They slipped quietly across the street, following the two men who passed through the gateway of the big house and down its main path. They kept well behind the two legionaries, trying all the time not to get too close. The soldiers turned off into the main part of the big house.

As Peter and Anir crossed the courtyard, Peter noticed how splendid the house looked with its roofed colonnade around the ground floors and the pool and fountain in the centre of the courtyard, or atrium.

The soldiers came to a halt. They saluted two others at the front door of the house and then went off to the left, down a corridor. Peter and Anir passed swiftly by the old guard who kept their station, then followed the others down to a room at the end of the house. As the soldiers entered, they were greeted warmly by at least one other, and bade to sit down and have a drink before going on duty.

“They are being rather careless,” Peter thought, “which is something I had better not be!”

Anir and he slunk into the shadows at the end of the corridor. There was a window with a ledge. Anir pulled Peter over to it.

“You wait here, Peter, I am going to scout around a bit. I am going to try and see if I can get a look at any of their maps or plans. I’ll be back shortly. If I’m not, make for the city gates and get out.”

He did a back flip out of the window and disappeared into the night.

“How brave he is,” thought Peter, who had rather put Anir upon a pedestal as Hero for the duration.

Someone definitely to be imitated, if at all possible! Peter then remained seated, silent and still like one of the statues in the garden. There he waited for about twenty minutes upon the window-ledge, listening to what passed in the room beyond.

“Well, well, Clementinus, and how’s the world with you?” their host began.

“All right, I suppose,” said Clementinus.

“Oh, you’ll feel a lot better after some of this. Good Gaulish wine this is. I’ve had half a pitcher myself already, so I know it’s good! Hic!”

“He’s drunk!” thought Peter, “and he’s going to get the other two drunk as well, if they are not careful. And they’re going on guard duty shortly. Well that’ll be good for us. Perhaps they won’t notice us leaving.”

With this pleasant thought, Peter settled himself down to listen again.

“Now then, now then, Gaius Maximus, have some more of this; do you good. Hic!”

“I can see it’s done you a lot of good already,” said the first soldier, “I tell you, I need a bit of this. Oh, it’s not like the good old days. You knew where you were with the Legions then. My father and his father before him, they were both in the army. Good life then it was, ( Slurp!) plenty of the spoils of war and the odd slave to had out of it, and retirement with a pension when you’d served your time. Now what do we get? I ask you?”

“Only he isn’t really asking them,” thought Peter, as the soldier drank deep of the wine, he’s going to tell us the answer himself. This is a bore, I’m getting nothing out of this.”

“I ask you,” continued Clementinus, “we get pushed from pillar to post by this rotten Proconsul…”

“That must be Lucius,” thought Peter.

“From pillar to post, and on behalf of one of these usurping, upstart Emperors wot has no more right to our Glorious Roman Empire than I do.”

“They don’t seem to like him either, that’s good,” mused Peter.

“Well, let’s make you Emperor then,” offered their host, laughing.

Gaius took up the complaint.

“Yeah! And tomorrow we got to march back where we came from, back to Autun! It was one of Lucius’ own bodyguard told me, just before we goes marching round this Langres place on guard duty.

First we gets ordered to Autun. Then we has to fight those slimy Britons. Then we chases after them ‘cos they got some of us prisoners. Then we does an ambush, but the Britons fight back. Now we’re in this hole and nitwit Lucius can’t make up his mind what to do next. Whether to ask the Emperor in Rome for reinforcements or not. Now I gets told that it’s definitely back to Autun again. Wot we’re going to do there I really don’t know, what with only half the forces we ought to have and would have had too, in the good old days.”

The soldier sniffed pathetically.

“I bet Lucius will go to Autun, stock up with provisions and prepare for a siege. That there Arthur and his Britons will never attack us during the winter, they’re not brave enough,” said Clementinus, leaning forward.

“Nah! Never were,” agreed their host.

Peter felt himself flush with anger. How dare they, how very dare they say such things. He nearly fell off the window ledge with indignation, but managed to pull himself back in time. After all he, Peter, knew that Arthur would be remembered for ever, even if it was not quite for the right reasons, or apparently, the right story. No-one, however, was going to write romantic tales or make movies about a certain Lucius Iberius and his upstart Emperor, Odovacer.

“Well lads,” said the host, “I’m feeling sleepy. I’m not on duty again until dawn, but you are, you two reprobates! Out you go and don’t let one of these darned Britons get the better of you. You’ve had enough courage out of a bottle for one night.”

“We’re off!” said the two soldiers, who were by this time distinctly unsteady on their feet, “and just you remember; no sleeping in! We want relieving on time, we does.”

And off they went to take over the guard.

“What did those advertisements say during the Second World War?” Peter asked himself, “ah yes: ‘careless talk costs lives’, that was it. Well this little chat is going to cost them plenty, IF we manage to get this information back to Arthur.”

He was about to move from the window, when the old guard appeared round the corner and went in to the guard room. Peter could hear snoring. When the others went in they were most scornful.

“He’s nearly drunk it all,” they said, “and those other two! They’ll be flogged if they are found out… if they’re lucky!”

And so their complaints went on. Anir returned and pulled Peter off the ledge.

“Anir! I’ve heard all their plans,” whispered Peter.

“And I have managed to get a squint at some maps,” said Anir. “I think we have both done well, but now it is time we went.”

He closed his fist over Peter’s, and they slipped past the guards who were definitely not as alert as they should have been. Thankfully they passed out of the courtyard. Peter looked back. The grand house was almost dark now, all save the soft glow of lamplight coming from one of the upper windows. It seemed likely that someone was wakeful, possibly even Lucius Iberius himself.

Peter felt curious. He wondered what Lucius was like and what he was planning up there in his room. Anir brought Peter down to earth. He pulled him away and they sped across the street and down the side of the forum, narrowly avoiding a large patrol of Goth soldiers. Then Peter recognised where they were. They were in the street of the bakery again.

“Look Peter, there is a faint glow in the sky over there. We must hurry now so that we are back in good time.”

They passed quickly down the street. A chill breeze was blowing. The guards by the main gate were marching up and down and slapping themselves in order to keep warm. It was quite a feat, dodging in and out and in between them, but at last Peter and Anir were back among the bushes and undergrowth. They were out of the town, out of Langres and on their way to meet Gormant and the others in the thicket.

When they arrived, Peter turned the Ring. All those gathered were as still and as silent as could be. The pale light of dawn showed in the Eastern sky. Without a word, Gormant made a sign and all mounted their restless horses. Anir and Peter discovered that they had been the last to leave Langres and were therefore lucky that the others had waited. Gormant gave another sign and the troops moved slowly and quietly off; riders like shadows in the half-light of dawn. They passed through trees, bushes, scrub and undergrowth, until after a while they came to a rough road. They were by this time about a mile and a half, maybe two miles from the enemy encampment.

“We might risk going a little quicker from here on,” Gormant called back.

He pressed his horse from a trot into a slow canter. The others followed suit. Then when they were a good six miles away, Gormant urged his horse into a full gallop. From then on, because it was after dawn, they went as fast as they could; only slowing to a trot occasionally. Rests were taken only when absolutely necessary. They had a slightly longer rest at midday by a river, where the horses could be fed and watered. All the horses were lathered up, but there was no time to rub them down properly. Their riders were only able to walk them round a little, hoping that would be enough.

After their horses were attended to, the riders were able to eat their provisions. No one talked very much. They were all too tired and too concerned about getting their vital information back to Arthur. Peter told Anir everything that he had heard in the Consul’s house. Then he felt so tired that he would have liked to have gone to sleep right where he was. He threw himself down on the grass, but Anir picked him up.

“No sleeping on duty! We still have a long way to go. You can rest properly when we are back in Camp.”

“But I want to go to sleep now, Anir.”

“No!” said Anir firmly and put Peter straight away back up on his horse.

Then, two minutes later they were off again, chasing Gormant who rode like a mad man. In fact, it was well after dark when they stumbled wearily into Arthur’s Camp. Peter was all but asleep in the saddle, but he and Anir were hurried away to the Praetorium immediately to make a first, if rather brief, report. Arthur was overjoyed and very impressed. The raid had gone much better than anyone had hoped and the spies had garnered much useful information. Anir then carried Peter to Merlin’s tent where he was laid upon the bed amongst the furs and cushions. He fell at once onto a deep sleep.

Moments later Sarah came from dinner, which had gone on rather late, to join her brother. She was greatly relieved to see him return unharmed, and was soon asleep beside him. Anir went with Gormant and the others to meet with Arthur. It was nearly dawn again when they slept at last. A Counsel of war had taken place. Plans had been made and decisions taken.

Next morning, Peter and Sarah woke late. Life in the Camp was already in full swing. They knew that they must have missed breakfast, but Peter still had some food in his bag, leftovers from the day before.

“I’m so glad you’re back in one piece, Big Bro.”

“Not half as much as I am Sarah. It was really, really scary and the enemy H.Q. was absolutely crawling with soldiers. We certainly needed that Ring of Gyges. We could never have managed without it. And Anir; Anir was great. I’d trust him to the ends of the earth and back, from now on, for ever!”

Peter lay back among Merlin’s rugs and cushions and felt glad to be alive.

“I am so glad, Peter, I’m so glad you’re back with me,” Sarah said and all of a sudden she gave him a big hug.

“Oh, well, er!” Peter muttered, and blushed.

The curtained opening of the tent moved and Merlin’s head appeared.

“Good morning little people,” he said, “wide awake I see. Ready for action, I hope?”

“Ready’ish, I suppose,” said Peter, still feeling rather tired.

“Sarah jumped up.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Come with me then please. Arthur wants to see you.”

He swept off out of the tent and the children followed him as quickly as they could. Two minutes later, they were in the tent of the Emperor Arthur once again. The young leader looked as bright as a button.

“Welcome, fair cousins! And I gather that you well deserve the title, Peter, from what Anir told me last night. Well done! You deserve The Golden Laurel Wreath at the very least! It is you alone we have to thank for the information that Lucius is leaving Langres for Autun.”

“Gosh, Sire, thank you!” said Peter, and blushed even redder than when Sarah had hugged him.

The Emperor Arthur’s blue eyes sparkled with pleasure.

“Yes,” said Peter, “I heard the guards in Lucius’ headquarters discussing it. They did not seem to be very pleased about marching all the way down here again.”

“Well, it is wonderful news for us,” said the Emperor, “we have all agreed the time and the place already!”

“The time and the place for what?” Sarah blurted out.

“The great ambush! The battle to end all battles! Come over here.”

Arthur pointed enthusiastically to the map on the table.

“Look here, between Autun and Langres there is a valley through which our enemies must pass if they are returning here. I have proposed setting our divisions here, here and here.”

He pointed to various spots on the map.

“I and my division will remain here. We will all be on the higher ground to the south east. Lucius will come from the north west, down the valley.”

“Doesn’t that mean that he will be facing into the sun?” asked Peter.

“Aye, it is an old soldier’s trick, but none the worse for that. They will have difficulty aiming their arrows and javelins at us and they will not see ours coming at them until they reach their mark. Lucius is mistaken if he thinks that he will reach Autun unscathed. And you, Peter, heard the guards! A really excellent piece of spy work, if I may say so. But now…”

Arthur looked round at them all.

“Now the greater work begins. Today we fight. We shall beat Lucius and all his army. Then we shall march on Rome and beat the Emperor Odovacer as well! He is a usurper and an upstart and does not deserve the title of Emperor, any more than I do…”

Peter wondered if the young man was thinking what he was thinking. Why should not Arthur of the Britons make a bid himself for the highest estate of them all? Why should he not become Roman Emperor?

“It would be wonderful to see Rome,” Sarah said suddenly.

“Aye, it would indeed,” agreed Arthur.

“Can we go with you?” asked Peter.

“First things first,” Merlin broke into their dreams of glory, “Arthur has to win the next battle before he even thinks of going anywhere near Rome and the Emperor!”

“Oh Merlin, you are so pessimistic,” said Arthur.

“And you are too easily inclined to optimism. Ah! I suppose it is one of the faults of youth. However, if you prepare well, organise your troops properly…”

“They are organised, Merlin.”

“Organise your troops properly and plan for every eventuality, you may win the day. For of course, it is the events that you least expect to occur that are likely to upset you. For example, what happens when it all goes wrong? Hmm! If Lucius does not come down to Autun, you will sit on your hillside all day for nothing. Or, suppose he has many more troops than you expect, or…”

“He hasn’t, the spies have counted them; he doesn’t, he won’t! In fact I happen to know from the scouts, that the enemy is on its way right now. Stop trying to make me feel depressed Merlin. Whatever happens, in half an hour from now, all our troops; well almost all, will march forth from here to the valley of Saussy.”

“Half an hour!” cried Peter and Sarah in surprise.

“Yes indeed, half an hour. In fact, I can hear the Ensigns forming their maniples and the Centurions forming their centuries up right now, and if I am not mistaken, here are my brave Generals coming to agree last orders.”

In strode Gormant, Kai and Bedwyr; then King Flergant and Lord Kaw, Gyssevin, Arthur’s Champion and Henwyneb; then several more whom Peter and Sarah had not seen before. These included some officers from the Danes and Norwegians. The Gauls were well represented and the Bretons also, not to mention local chiefs from all over Britain. All met in Arthur’s tent to plan the great battle against the Romans.

They were to bypass Autun, leaving it to the left and going on to the valley at Saussy. One Legion, besides Arthur’s own, was to remain in reserve. The remainder were to be divided into seven divisions; each to contain five thousand, five hundred and fifty men. The exception was Arthur’s own Legion, which was to comprise nearly seven thousand men. All the Legions were to have two Commanders.

“I guess there’s one for the infantry and one for the cavalry,” (which made up the greater part of Arthur’s army) Peter said, in a low voice to Sarah.

Sarah was beginning to feel incredibly nervous. She remembered the battle that they had been in with the Elves against Arddu, the Dark One! She remembered that it had not exactly been an enjoyable experience. She didn’t really wish to see another one. Nervousness made her giggly.

“Where do baby soldiers go?” she asked Peter, prodding him in the ribs.

“I don’t know,” Peter said absently, for he was intent upon what the Generals were doing.

“Into the INFANT-RY, of course,” giggled Sarah.

“Ssh!”

“Where does the General keep his armies?” Sarah giggled again.”

“What?” said Peter, who in his mind was still attending to other things. Sarah repeated the ancient joke.

“What? Oh, on a hill, I suppose.”

“No, silly, up his sleevies! He! He!”

“Oh Sarah, do shut up! Look, I think they’re getting ready to go.”

All the Generals bowed themselves out of the Emperor’s tent. As they went out Anir came in.

“The troops appear to be ready to leave. May I relieve you of the children?”

He beckoned to Peter and Sarah and they went to stand by him.

“Yes, thank you Anir. Merlin will accompany you and the children, won’t you Merlin.”

“Yes, I expect I shall, though I do not enjoy fighting. However, I have sharpened my own sword in case of emergency.”

“Very good. Then I am off to lead my army to battle. Onwards to Saussy and Victory to the Britons!”

Arthur passed out of his tent, leapt on to his waiting horse and:

“Raise the Golden Dragon! To Saussy and Victory!” he cried. The whole army took up the cry:

“To Saussy and Victory!”

The Emperor Arthur’s standard was raised. The Golden Dragon gleamed and sparkled in the summer sun. Arthur rode forward out of the camp gates and the huge army of the Britons and their allies followed him. To Saussy they went, and hopefully to the winning of the battle!