"You will be tried, publicly, by military tribunal, in front of the Council Hall at noon today," I told him. "Expect no mercy. You will be executed. I myself will execute you." I spoke to the guard commander. "Take him away and hold him well. Let no one approach him. I want four men with spears around him at all times. And keep him in the courtyard, tied to a stake. If he gives trouble, knock him down, but do not kill him before noon."
Five hours later, at noon, I nodded to the trumpeters and silence fell on the packed courtyard as the brazen tones of the military horns rang out. I stood above the man and detailed the catalogue of his crimes in utter silence. He took it well. His face betrayed no expression. When I had finished reading, I turned to the officers who stood behind me, and then faced the crowd again and raised my voice so that they could all hear me.
"In the matter of execution, our law is simple. Once judgment has been passed there will be no delay and death will be brought about by the means decreed, as soon as possible. Some crimes must merit death by hanging, some by decapitation, and some by crucifixion, although that method has not been used in Britain for more than a hundred years." I paused in my delivery to look again at the prisoner, then continued. "This man's crimes are not dealt with by our laws, however, for he has committed a crime more heinous than our lawmakers could foresee." I turned and held out my hand to a centurion nearby, who handed me an arrow. I held the arrow high above my head.
"This is a poisoned arrow. One scratch from it will bring an agonizing death within minutes. But some men can last for thirty minutes before they die...Very strong men. Some of our own soldiers lasted thirty minutes against the venom. Some were luckier and died more quickly. This man, this.. .sorcerer, is the poisoner. The secrets of the ingredients of the poison are contained within his mind. My judgment is that they should be cauterized and sealed therein forever." I turned and leaned forward quickly, before anyone could divine my intention, and scored the arrowhead twice across Caspar's brow, forward and back, cutting two lines that gaped and then began to bleed. His eyes went wide with horror and he screamed. I broke the arrow across my knee and handed it back to the man who had given it to me. "Burn this. Immediately." He saluted and spun on his heel to carry out my order, disappearing in the direction of the furnace that fed the bath house.
The rest of us stood there in the bright noon sun and watched Caspar die—all of us, appalled and sickened by his screaming agony.
Finally, when his legs had ceased their frenetic dance and the corpse lay still, I looked up at his guards. "Bury him in the mass grave on the plain, with the rest of Lot's filth." His death had not been quick.
I turned and left the courtyard, looking at no one, and made my way directly to the Armoury, hoping no one would try to follow me. No one did, and as I entered I locked the big, bronzed doors behind me before checking; very belatedly, the safety of Excalibur.
After I had retrieved the wondrous sword from its hiding-place beneath the floor, I sat alone in the shadows of the great room for hours, struggling against my emotions and feeling very unsure of my own strength, , all the while polishing the sword with the silken shawl in which it was wrapped and wondering where I could hide it again to be absolutely sure of its safety. There were four great treasures in my life, and it seemed to me I had done well by none of them. The greatest of these, my beloved Cassandra, was safe, I could only hope, in Avalon, blissfully unaware of the chaos that reigned outside her tiny world. I dared not allow myself to imagine otherwise. The second greatest, this sword Excalibur that was my sacred trust, was safe and undamaged, but through no grace of mine. Had the building been fired, the sword could have been lost, damaged, or even found and stolen. My stewardship had been badly lacking in that area. The third was my father, Picus Britannicus, murdered in his sleep while I was absent. And the fourth, Aunt Luceiia, had almost been killed while I was present!
My mind in a chaos, and trying vainly not to panic over my fears for Cassandra, telling myself frantically that there was nothing I could have done differently and that she would be well until I reached her, I went over and over in my mind everything that had happened in the previous few days up to the death of my father, and once I had faced that incontrovertible truth—the fact of his death—I stood vigil for him, there in Uncle Varrus's treasure room, for more than two hours, standing erect and at attention, holding Excalibur and paying my own, personal, private tribute to the man who had sired me. I would probably have remained there throughout the day and well into the following night had I not been forced unwillingly into activity by the sheer volume of work that I knew remained to be done.
The effort and concentration demanded by my long immobility forced me to think more and more clearly of my responsibilities, and I became increasingly aware, although with great reluctance, that I had little time to indulge myself. Finally, my mind aswarm with chores that demanded my attention, I replaced Excalibur in its case and returned it carefully to its hiding place beneath the floor boards. Kneeling there on the floor, I thought of Cassandra in her valley just a few miles away and prayed that she had been in less danger than the sword. And I swore to myself that, come what may, I would hold her before this day was over.
XXV
I had heard no one approach along the passageway outside, but suddenly the handle of the door was tried, and then came a knock.
"Commander Britannicus?"
Recognizing the voice of Lucanus immediately, I stiffened, and then told myself that nothing further could have gone wrong, else I would have heard more noise.
"Yes, I am here. What is it?"
There was a pause, then, "May I speak with you, Commander?"
I felt a surge of anger at his intrusion and fought it down. "Is it important?" I asked, keeping my impatience from my tone.
"I believe so, Commander."
I rose to my feet and made my way to the doors, unlocking them and opening them to reveal the physician standing, shadowed, in the hallway outside, his hands behind his back and his dark, sardonic face twisted in an unreadable expression. He had bathed and changed since I last saw him and was now wearing a long, pale blue tunic fringed with dark green fabric.
"Well, Lucanus? What is so important that it must be discussed now?"
"A matter of procedure, Commander. Your aunt, the Lady Luceiia, asked me to bring you to her family room."
For some reason, his words displeased me even more than his interruption had. "Did she indeed?" I snapped. "And since when have either you or my aunt had anything to say in matters of procedure?" I was conscious of being rude to the point of boorishness to a man who had given me no real reason, but Lucanus took no offence, merely shrugging his shoulders Mid nodding in acquiescence. "You are correct, of course. Nevertheless..."
"Yes, nevertheless. Very well, I'll come with you." I pulled the doors closed behind me and accompanied him along the passageway to my aunt's private suite of rooms.
As we entered her main living room, I was conscious, as always, of the feeling of well-being it brought me, in spite of all the pains now afflicting me. A fire burned brightly in the hearth, its flames reflected in the polished surfaces of brass and bronze ornaments scattered throughout the room. My aunt was not there. Lucanus crossed to stand by the fire, and I threw myself into my favourite chair, the great, overstuffed seat that had belonged to Uncle Varrus.
"Beautiful room." Lucanus was looking around him admiringly.
"Aye," I grunted, "but it has known better times. Where is my aunt?"