"Now, if I were as devious as Lot, I would attribute-to us sufficient malice to keep these two men waiting to deliver their messages. A day, at least, two days or three if my luck was working for me. If the Scots have been victorious, then Lot has no problems. If we have won, then we need time to lick our wounds and regroup, and we should be relieved to get Uther's reassurance—in spite of any personal misgivings—that the trouble in the south-west was without substance." I was confident in my logic, but its conclusions were startling, even to me. I took a deep breath before delivering my next statement.
"Father, Uther, I am prepared to wager that Lot followed hard on Uther's heels, and is now less than two days' march from here, in full force, waiting for his two spies to come back. If they do not arrive within two days, he will know that we were not defeated in the north. If we hear his envoys and send them back immediately, tomorrow, then he'll know within three days and still be closer to us than we would suspect. On the other hand, if we keep them waiting for two days, three days, he will have all the time he needs to deploy his armies and hit us from every direction, when we least expect it. He'll either use the departure of his spies as the signal for attack, or he'll move against us while they are still here."
"Would he sacrifice his friends that callously?" My father was still thinking of Lot in terms of normal human decency.
"The man has no friends, Father. He wouldn't think twice about it. I believe Lot of Cornwall intends to initiate all-out war against us, no less than three days from today, and no more than five. So let's say four days, but be prepared for three. And he'll be right here at our gates."
The silence that followed this assertion seemed to last forever. It was my father, clutching at straws, who broke it. "Cay, I'm not disputing your logic, but there's one flaw in it. Our own people are out there, throughout our lands. If Lot's army were to attempt to approach us, no matter how carefully, we would have word of it."
Even as he was speaking, I shook my head, denying him that avenue, which I had already considered. "Would we, Father? Don't forget his two hundred bowmen with their arrows that can kill with a scratch. Those people could move in a circle around us on a mile-wide front and kill every living soul. Especially if they did it in stealth. We haven't got that many people out there, and those who do live on the farms tend to congregate, after working all day. There would be no survivors to escape with warnings. The same applies to our sentries and outposts. Poisoned arrows! All it takes is a scratch. Uther, how long does it take a man to die?"
"All of the men I lost were dead within half an hour. Less than half that time for most of them." He was looking at my father, who listened, pale-faced.
"Father," I said, my voice as gentle as I could make it, "we have to assume that the people in and around Camulod itself, the people we can hear and see, are the only people left alive in the entire countryside who are not our enemies."
"That is monstrous!"
"Monstrous and evil. But it is typical of Lot of Cornwall, who is an evil monster."
He was convinced. "So be it! What do you suggest we do?" He was himself again. I changed my tone.
"We move. Immediately. Uther, not much rest for you tonight, Cousin. We'd better get Titus and Flavius in here, Father. We're going to need them."
He struck the small gong on his table and instructed the soldier who came at its summons.
Uther sighed and stretched himself. "What have you got in mind, Cay?"
"Your envoys. I don't want them to suspect that we are mobilizing. They must know nothing. The only thing I want them to think is that we are as stupid and unsuspecting as they assume us to be. Fortunately, if my suspicions are right, they'll take our treatment of them at face value. I want an unobtrusive guard placed over them, but I want them to know it's there. Keep them away from any place or any person that might make them suspicious of what we are doing. In the meantime, I've already sent word to the stewards of our breeding farms to assemble all our animals for a census. We made those arrangements by sheer chance, before we knew anything of this, but it means our horses will all be gathered right where we need them.
"Lot already knows that Uther had his four hundred horsemen with him, so he'll be expecting to find them here. That's good. They'll be here, but what I'm thinking of is that difference you mentioned, Father, of over six hundred horses. We know we're stronger than anyone else suspects. I'll be surprised if we have less than seven thousand souls living in the Colony, scattered throughout our camps and farms?" It was a question, but neither of them reacted.
"Do you agree? About seven thousand, counting women and children?"
My father nodded. "Aye, that many at least. Our numbers have been growing steadily for years. We have more than two thousand here in Camulod itself, within and around the walls. We've always concentrated on our strength—our ability to defend ourselves—but in the past few years, what with one thing and another, we seem to have lost sight of numbers."
"What about the records?"
"The fact is no one has checked very closely for some time. The last count I remember placed our numbers around four thousand, but that was some years ago."
"How many years ago?"
"Four, perhaps five. Our main priority at the time was to grow enough food to feed everyone. We cleared more land and recultivated several of the abandoned farms around our perimeter. If you remember, you were worried at the time about the extra patrolling that would be involved."
"I recall it well," I said. "But I think you'll be surprised, when you check our rolls again, at just how much we have grown."
Uther interrupted me. "You've sidetracked yourself, Cay. You were talking about my four hundred cavalry. What was the point you were going to make?"
"That they should stay here, to defend the fort. In the meantime. I'd like to send another thousand horsemen secretly out of the Colony."
"A thousand?"
I shrugged. "They may not all be astride cavalry mounts, but I'll wager we have the horses, and we have the men to ride them. The men won't all be fully equipped, either, but they'll be able to sit on a horse and hold a spear and they'll frighten the spirit out of Lot's army when they appear unexpectedly at their back!" They were both looking at me, their eyes begging to be convinced. "Uther. Where are your four hundred billeted now?"
"Victorex's old place. But we dismissed them for forty- eight hours, remember?"
"Damnation! Well, that's acceptable. They'll stay and be recalled here on duty when their leave is over. Damnation! They are our best. I had hoped to replace them with other, lesser troops, but no matter. When it comes time for them to strike with us they'll be invaluable. Please see that they are back on duty here tomorrow night. I'll raise our extra thousand from the other camps and farms.
"I want a column of a thousand mounted men on the move to the north-east by noon tomorrow. More, if we can manage it. The commissariat will have to be instructed as soon as possible to prepare rations for ten days for at least that many men. We'll have to disperse them in a fan. I don't want the tracks of a thousand horsemen to be visible. I don't care how that's done, but it's essential. If I'm right, Lot's people will come in from the south and west. Ours will have a chance to get out to the north and east if they move quickly, but if they leave visible evidence of their passing, Lot will know they're out there.
"In addition to that, I want to recall every man from every outpost on our borders. That will seem suspicious to Lot, I know, but we'll declare a festival of some kind. I don't care. I just want them back here, within walking distance of the safety of the walls. Remember, we're supposed to think the danger's over for a while. We can relax our vigilance."