"Apparently so. Lot pronounced them dead, telling the world they had been foully murdered by you while you held them prisoner, their deaths attested to by the members of the Queen's own bodyguard. None of the missing men had any names, you see . . . at least none that were known and reported to Lot's people. Tragic loss . . . it could have created havoc among my own people here in the south, had not the gap they left been quickly filled. Six score newcomers came wandering into my lands about that time, can you believe that? They even set up house among my folk, adopting and consoling the widows and families of the men who had been killed in captivity."
"That was most amazingly fortunate."
"It was . . . Miraculous, if you really think about it. . ."
Uther glanced around the table and found that everyone was smiling, including the young woman Lydia. He found himself able to look straight at Ygraine now and direct his next question to her. "So tell me, lady, if you will, about your King's reception of the news that you yet lived and had escaped?"
Still smiling, Ygraine looked at Herliss, motioning for him to continue, and he spoke up immediately.
"He took it very well, considering all that he had done to prevent it. As I said at the outset, we went directly from your encampment to his stronghold at Golant, which was, in fact, much closer to where we were than was my own fort of Tir Gwyn, and when we arrived there we found Lot was expected to arrive the following day. That was surprising, for I had anticipated that he might be up on the northern coast, supervising the building of his new fortress at Rosnant."
"Rosnant?" Uther sat up straight. "Lot has a new fortress? When did this come into being?"
Herliss scratched at his beard. "Well, it didn't come into being— the place has always been there. Perhaps you've heard of it as Tintagel? The local people call it that." Seeing Uther's head shake, he glanced wide-eyed at his son, who said nothing. "Well," Herliss continued, "it's a natural, impregnable fortress, completely safe from attack—sits on a spur of land attached to the mainland by only a tiny, impassable causeway that would give a goat trouble and could be defended by a single blind man. Can't be captured by a frontal attack, 'cause it can't be reached. Can't be invested and can't be starved out, because it's surrounded on all sides by the sea. And it can't be attacked from the sea, either, because the cliffs are too high. Supplies can be landed there and carried up the cliffs to feed the defenders, but no attacking force could ever climb up there. Impossible."
Lagan leaned forward and spoke for the first time. "I don't think you need to worry about Rosnant, Uther. It's a defensive place, a place for a last stand. Lot can't be touched there, true, but he can't touch you from there, either. And if he should try to escape by sea, he'll have to keep going until he reaches Gaul or some other land, for there will be no place for him to land here again. The people will back you against him. There is a sickness in our land and its name is Gulrhys Lot. People will go to any lengths to be cured of it, believe me."
"But what about the mercenaries? Seems to me there are more of those in Cornwall than there are Cornishmen."
Herliss spoke up again. "You might be right there, but they are Outlanders, and in the fight for our own lands, our folk will win. Of course, you will assist us."
"I will? When?"
"Wherever and whenever it is possible, I presume, since we both seek the same end."
Uther decided that he did not yet want to pursue that. "Tell me about this other place, his stronghold, Golant. It's north of here, is it not?"
"Well, more east than north, but aye, it lies above us some thirty miles along the coast. What do you want to know about it?"
"What kind of place it is . . . how strong. Is it takeable?"
"By siege, you mean? I doubt it. It's one of the old circular enclosures built before the Romans came. Two earth ramparts, one inside the other with a ditch between. Main entrance in the east. There the inner rampart remains circular, with a simple gate leading to the central enclosure, but the outer ring extends eastward and becomes more pointed, like an egg-shape, making a space, entirely surrounded by high ramparts, that can be used to amass forces for a raid outside the gates, or to contain and slaughter any enemies who might get by the first, outer gates."
"This outer gate, is it hinged?"
Herliss blinked for a moment in confusion, but then he realized what Uther was asking him and his face cleared. "You mean like a door might have hinges? No, it's not a gate in that sense. It has no doors. In order to understand that, you have to begin with the rampart, the outer wall. D'you know the Roman measurement they call a pes?"
"Aye, it's supposed to be the length of a tall man's foot. We don't use it but I know what it means."
Herliss grinned. "We use it all the time now. The old Duke started using it first. He said it made more sense than trying to describe every distance in terms of paces, and since I've become used to using it myself, I agree with him. A hundred paces for a man's a lot farther than the same hundred paces for a boy, but a foot's an understandable unit to both of them. Anyway, the outer rampart measures thirty-five to forty feet thick. It stands about six feet high, too, with a twelve-foot-deep ditch in front of it that measures another twenty-two feet from edge to edge. The gate, then, is a narrow passageway, walled with wood and no more than six feet across at its widest point. It runs the full width of the rampart wall—that makes it thirty-live to forty feet long—and the ramparts on both sides are built up like flanking towers, with bridges stretching over the passageway from side to side. Anyone entering the place has to come in through that passage, and for anyone unwelcome, it's a long way." He paused. "The only other possibility is to light your way across the outer ditch and up the incline to the lop of the rampart. II' you get across that, you've another ditch and another rampart to go before you reach the enclosure, and may the gods of war and fortune be on your side, because you'll need them."
"Is the other ring, the inner one, the same size as the first?"
"Not quite. It's completely circular but slightly narrower—say, twenty-two feet thick. The same kind of passageway, however, lined with wood and overlooked by defenders on both sides and on bridges above. The inner circle, the living space inside the walls, is about two hundred and fifty feet from side to side, a good hundred paces no matter how you count it." He sat quietly then, gazing at Uther and continuing to scratch at his beard with one fingertip. "Why are you so interested in Lot's defences? Are you thinking of attacking them?"
Uther laughed and shook his head. "No, not at all, but I like to know what I'm up against at all times. If we drive the man into hiding, I'd like to know the odds against keeping him there or winkling him out again." He looked back to where Lagan sat listening. "I ought to have asked you sooner . . . your wife and son are well?"
Lagan nodded, "Aye, they are, and safe at home again."
Uther was unable to hide his surprise. "You leave them at home? I would have thought you'd keep them within sight of you at all times now." He knew before the words had left his mouth that they were tactless, but it was too late to recall them. Lagan, however, took no offence, but merely shook his head.
"Here in Cornwall, things are not always what they seem. In fact it is safer for me to leave my family unprotected than to keep them close by me."
"What my son means," Herliss growled, "is that Lot's madness grows more and more extreme from day to day. But as long as Lagan can willingly leave his wife and child open to the threat of Lot's displeasure, then Lot will believe that Lagan cannot possibly be plotting against his King. The truth, of course, concealed in openness from Lot's blind eyes, is that Lydda and Cardoc are better protected at any time of the day or night than is Lot himself. At the first sign of a threat to either of them. Lot's world will come crashing down onto his shoulders and his cursed head will spin on the ground between his feet. In the meantime, however. Lagan is left free to do as he wills: to go and find you, for example, and bring you here to meet with us, because Lot could never dream that anyone might be sufficiently courageous or foolish to plot against him while his loved ones are vulnerable to his venom."