"Once I have discovered what went on here, there will be a reckoning. In the meantime, however, I want you, if you will, to tell all those who lost goods due to the damage done or caused by my men that they will be recompensed in silver coin. That I pledge you on my word as a Commander of Camulod."
The big fellow nodded. "I am Mark, a sawyer. I will tell the people of your offer."
"Good." Uther looked now from one to the other of them. "What happened? Can either of you tell me how it started?"
Mark grunted. "Aye. Someone threw a jug that missed my head and felled the man beside me. As I bent to see how badly he was injured, someone kicked me in the ribs and in the shoulder, and before I knew anything, I had three of your people hammering on me." He stopped, eyeing Uther with one eyebrow raised high. "There was no provocation, no argument involved, no angry words with anyone. You had been there mere moments earlier, yourself. You know how calm it was."
"Aye, I do. But this makes no sense. No one ever starts a brawl like this without reason."
The big man shrugged his shoulders. "Until today I would have agreed with you."
"Hmm." Uther turned back towards the girl. "Your shawl. How came my . . . man . . . to have it in his hand?"
The girl raised her head high. "He snatched it from me, but by accident. He was grasping at my hair. His fingernails did this." She pulled her hair back at the temple to expose twin scratches, deeply gouged into the skin of her scalp.
Uther winced and shook his head. "Then who knocked—who knocked him down?"
"I did," said Mark.
Uther blinked at him. "But you said you had three men all over you."
"I had, for a moment or two, but I soon lost those. And then I saw that creature of yours attacking Anna. All I had was a broomstick, but had it been a blade, that whoreson would be dead. I caught him across the back of the neck and dropped him like an ox. And then someone hit me with something. I have no idea who or what. You know the rest."
"Aye, I do indeed. Thank you for this. I shall return again tomorrow. How will I find you?"
"Let us find you. We know where your camp is."
"Very well, then. I am Uther Pendragon. Ask the guards for Commander Uther. I'll leave word that you are to be expected, and they will bring you directly to me."
"Commander Uther . . ." Uther stopped in the act of turning and swung back to face them as the young man continued. "Know that the estimated costs of the damages will be accurate," said the man called Mark. "You will not be cheated. That I can pledge to you."
Uther inclined his head, conscious of the courtesy extended to him. "My thanks to you. So be it. Until tomorrow then."
Chapter THIRTEEN
"You say there are nine of them?"
Cay sat sprawled in the command tent in front of the ancient but magnificent folding campaign desk that had been a gift from his father just prior to leaving Camulod on this, his final patrol as a trainee commander. Despite its great age, it was made from richly polished wood, although it was nicked and scarred with the blemishes of a hundred years of use, for it had travelled on campaigns across the world, serving generations of his ancestors before ending up in his first command tent. He was relaxed, his legs indolently spread, one heel resting on the edge of the box in which he carried books, maps and documents that could not be stowed inside the desk for travel.
"What do you intend to do with them?" Cay continued. "And how will you justify arresting eight townspeople?"
Uther shrugged with disgust. "I don't know, Cay, and that answers both your questions. I undertook to pay silver in restitution for the damage done, but if all of this happened because some bad-tempered stall holder took a dislike to a trooper's face and decided to rearrange his features, then that will affect the apportioning of costs, not merely of blame. Who started it all? That is the major question here, and the way we handle it once we discover the truth will greatly affect the way we are greeted next time we come to Glevum.
"No matter what we decide to do, it will have to be something draconian. My guts are telling me my people started it. I was right there moments before it happened, and there was not a whiff of tension anywhere in that marketplace. Whatever those troopers did, they did instantaneously and for reasons of their own. I would give anything to know what those reasons were and which of them was the instigator." He turned his head to where Dedalus lounged in a folding chair in one corner of the command tent, leaning back against a supporting pole. "Dedalus, do you have any suggestions?"
"About what? Punishment?" Dedalus had been peering at his fingernails, biting a ragged edge on one of them, and he continued to worry it as he considered Uther's question. Finally he sniffed and spread his fingers, holding them up to the light. "Execute all of them. They probably deserve it for half a score of other reasons quite apart from this one, and they won't be missed."
Uther made a wry face, completely forgetting that he had been terrified of this man a mere twelvemonth before. "That is very helpful, Dedalus. I can just imagine the Legate's reaction on learning that we've started executing our own troopers."
"Well, you asked for suggestions. You didn't specify that they had to be practical. Put the idiots on chain duty, then, and suspend all privileges for the next three months. No furloughs, no liberty, constant latrine duty, stable cleaning and nightly guard shifts." Chain duty referred to the direst barrack-room punishment detail, an unbroken chain of misery and sewage.
"But how do I establish their guilt?"
"You don't have to, lad. They established their own guilt when they were arrested in the middle of the mess they made. Besides, you are their commanding officer. You rule by decree, and if your decree is chain duty, then that's what they do."
"Aye, perhaps. But how will I find out who was the ringleader?"
Dedalus snorted and pointed his finger straight at Uther. "I'll wager five to one, right now, that your pet creature Hard-Nose was at the bottom of it all. From what I know of her—"
"Dedalus, you didn't even know she was a woman until I told you, and you'd been living in her company for nigh on a year by that time, so please don't advise me about Nemo based on what you know of her . . ."
"Oh, well, if you're going to be that particular over niceties, I'll shut up."
Uther paced the length and breadth of the large tent for a while, deep in thought, and his companions made no effort to interrupt his reverie. He had returned from Glevum half an hour earlier, hard on the heels of the three decurions and their party of prisoners. After waiting for Cay to return to his tent after taking delivery of the prisoners and seeing them disposed of according to his instructions, he had launched into the story of what happened in the marketplace. Uther himself had not yet been anywhere close to the prisoners since his return.
He stopped pacing after a while and drew himself up to his full height.
"Very well then, there's no point in putting this off. Here's my decision. You and I hold joint command, Cay, so we both have to be involved in this. There's no choice there. We will hold a court of inquiry right here in the command tent. We'll have the entire troop of them, including the townspeople, paraded in here one at a time, and we'll question all of them about what happened. They've all been gagged and tethered since they were arrested, so they've had no opportunity to confer together or cook up any false stories. We'll listen to all sides, we'll discuss our own conclusions and opinions, and then we will reach a judgment among the three of us."