"Important enough to break with a tradition that we have built up here in Camulod since our beginnings for reasons of sound, tested common sense? That must be monumentally important." He held up a hand towards his nephew. "Wait you, I am not belittling you or casting slurs on your judgment. I am merely making a point." He thrust himself forward off the table and moved back to his own chair, settling himself comfortably.
"When I was your age, I left home to join the legions, and I did my earliest service in Gaul before the Romans had even begun to develop heavy cavalry. I spent several years there as an ordinary infantry grunt, engaged in some heavy fighting, and then I met Flavius Stilicho and fell in love with horse warfare. But even then, by which time I was close to twenty, I faced opposition whenever I tried to convince the older officers that cavalry warfare was to be the way of the future. They thought me—and Stilicho as well—no more than a jumped-up, overweening boy, out to change a thousand-year tradition to suit his own ends." He paused and eyed his nephew questioningly. "Do you see what I mean? Their experience, impressive as it was, told them that someone of my experience could know nothing. That's your situation at this moment. You see something you believe to be important. I, as your legate rather than your uncle, see an inexperienced, fifteen-year-old boy who appears to want me to change the way things are done around here, although I have no idea why. But I am granting you the benefit of all my doubts, so convince me. Tell me what it was that your men were showing you yesterday. Take your time."
Uther felt relief flowing through him, closely followed by a rush of admiration for his uncle's patience and understanding. Instead of plunging into his argument, he remained still, grappling with his thoughts and feelings, until finally he began to see it taking shape in his mind.
"It was unity, I think, sir . . . Yes, that's what it was. It was unity. They had achieved something together. Something difficult. Something to be proud of."
"Of course they had. They'd achieved the status of Camulodian troopers. They're unique now."
"Aye, but that's just it, sir, they're Cambrians, not Camulodians. They're Pendragons."
There was a silence, and then Picus nodded. "Aye, they are, but they are still troopers in the cavalry of Camulod. And their differentness simply presents another excellent reason to split them up as I normally would and dilute the distinctions between them and our regular troopers."
Uther felt frustration swelling in his chest, but he knew that to show any of it would be the worst thing he could do. Unconscious of the disrespect he might be showing, he held up his own hand as he sought to balance his thoughts.
"Sir, have you ever been to Cambria, to Tir Manha, I mean? Have you spent any time there?"
"I've been there several times, but I've never stayed there. I know little of your people and their ways, if that's what you are asking me."
"It is, Uncle, it is . . . You see . . ." He took a great breath and plunged ahead. "We Pendragons never act in unison on anything, except in emergencies- when there's a King to be chosen or when an enemy invades us. Even then, in war, we will turn out in masses but we fight as solitary warriors, every man for himself. We don't have the kind of discipline or organized training you take for granted here in Camulod. Even our bowmen with the new longbows, they're incredibly powerful together, but each one is his own man . . . aims and shoots his own arrows. I'm not making sense, am I?"
Picus shrugged. "Yes you are. I think I'm beginning to see what you mean. Carry on."
"Well, that's what surprised me . . . I think. I had never seen my own people behaving the way they behaved yesterday, and I couldn't get it out of my mind. I've never seen Pendragons work together as these have . . . not with so much discipline and in a common cause. It's against everything Cambrian, absolutely everything."
Picus was silent, making no attempt to interrupt, and Uther sat frowning, thinking deeply, then burst out talking again.
"These men came here with me because my father urged them and encouraged them to come. He wants to forge a closer alliance with you here in Camulod, and to have some cavalry available to him in Cambria—Camulod's cavalry, with Camulodian officers, but made up of Cambrian volunteers under my command. He believed there might be young men in Tir Manha who would leap at the chance to get away, to try something different. But he never thought—none of us did, including me—about what might happen in the doing of that. And that's why I think it important to keep the men together. If we split them up, as you propose to do, we risk losing this . . . thing that has them all united in this new way."
His uncle smiled, shaking his head slightly. "But that makes no sense, Uther. Their confidence will grow with further training as regular troopers."
Uther nodded, but he was not about to back down now. "That is true, sir, their confidence will increase, but their sense of . . . the only word I can find is unity . . . that will melt away. They'll be good Camulodian troopers, as you say . . ."
"But?"
"But that's all they'll be." The words came out in a rush.
Picus leaned his head back and laughed aloud. "Is that supposed to win me over to your viewpoint? That's all they'll be?"
Uther was appalled by his gaffe. "No, Uncle, I didn't mean it like that. I meant no disrespect. What I meant to say is that they could be much more, in a different sense. They could be . . . will be . . . a Cambrian corps of Camulodian troopers, who will return proudly to Cambria and cause envy in the hearts of others like them. They will be the King's Guard from Camulod, but their comradeship, their pride and their discipline will raise other volunteers who can then be trained normally in the traditional manner."
"Hmm . . ." Picus sat silent for a long time, mulling over what Uther had said, and then he nodded. "Well, you've given me much to think about. I think you should leave me now. You have not convinced me, but you have captured my attention, and if you have half the brains I think you have, you will leave me to convince myself. I'll send for you before the day is out and give you my answer. In the meantime, say nothing to anyone of what we have discussed, and leave that roster here with me."
Uther pushed the list back across the table and Picus picked it up, gazing at it with unfocused eyes. Uther rose, saluted and left his uncle to his thoughts.
Then late that evening, only an hour before curfew, a trooper came looking for Uther to summon him to the Legate's quarters, where he was surprised to find Picus in conference with Garreth Whistler, the two of them sitting companionably beside a glowing brazier. They stopped talking as he approached the open door, and Picus beckoned him inside. Wondering what was happening, Uther entered and nodded to Garreth before taking the seat between them. He made no attempt to salute Picus, as all of them were out of uniform. His uncle wasted no time in coming to the point.
"Well, Nephew," he said, "I have thought of nothing but your strange request all day long, and I tell you openly I had almost made up my mind to deny it. But then I decided to consult with Garreth here, since the outcome of my decision would affect him, too, and I knew that he would not hesitate to speak the truth of what he felt about your suggestion. I was very surprised to discover that he knew nothing about it."
Uther glanced at Garreth and fell the hot colour sweeping up into his face. Before he could say anything, however, Picus continued.
"I outlined your proposal to Garreth then and tried to state your reasons for it as truthfully and accurately as I could, and afterwards he and I talked about the matter at some length . . . longer than I had anticipated. You will be delighted to know that, despite your failure to confide in him, Garreth agreed with you. More important, however, he convinced me to agree with you, too.