Free Shadow of the King by Helen Hollick Page A

enough for Arthur to laugh, “I’ll
    S h a d o w o f t h e k i n g 4 9
    be damned, a pig flying!” Then he had his sword out, the blade slicing through
    the slave rope. He picked up the severed end, his blade hovering above Fat
    Man’s groin. “I get the girl or your balls? Your choice.” A heartbeat pause, no
    answer. Arthur grinned. “It seems I get the girl.” He grasped her hand, brought
    her to her feet. “You’d better be woman-clean, girl. Riothamus, despite popular
    opinion, may be a bastard but he’s not, yet, a poxed bastard.” Casually he
    shrugged back the folds of his cloak, let the glimmer of his torque show, a coil of
    twisted gold shaped like a dragon. Only one man wore such a thing.
    “Come, Bedwyr, we are late for that meeting.” Holding the slave rope
    as casually as if it were a dog’s lead, Arthur walked away, heading for the
    northern exit from the Forum, the girl trotting obedient, wide-eyed, and silent
    at his heel.
    Tadius re-examined the garnet ring, ignoring the fat man, who, breathless,
    was struggling to his feet. “God’s Fortune!” Tadius whistled aloud, “That was
    the Pendragon; this is the real thing!”
    Fat Man, at his shoulder, peered at the ring, unimpressed. “If he can
    squander such things on a whore, happen it’s about time he paid some of us
    honest townsfolk.”
    Tadius laughed, put the ring safe away. “Honest folk? God’s balls! Honest?
    Here? There be no such person!”
    Fourteen
    Sidonius Apollinaris welcomed the Pendragon, or Riothamus, as he
    was titled in Less Britain and Gaul, with wide arms and a wider smile. If he
    was annoyed at the late arrival of his guest, he made no mention of it. Instead,
    he ushered Arthur and Bedwyr into the luxury of a private room at the rear
    of the tavern, raising his eyebrow only slightly at the British king’s request
    to have the bedraggled girl accompanying him sent to the kitchens for food
    and a chance to dry her clothes and hair. Sidonius was a man who took the
    unexpected in his stride—storing such glimmers of tantalising information away
    in his brain for later, private reflection.
    There was another man in the room, seated, sipping wine. He rose as Arthur
    entered, bowed formally. A young man, bright-eyed, clear-skinned, tall, and
    clean-shaven. He bounded forward, offered his hand to Arthur, not caring to
    wait for formal introduction. “My lord, I am Ecdicius; my elder sister being
    Sidonius’s good lady wife. I have heard much of you, am honoured to meet
    you.” His hand was pumping Arthur’s arm, his grin broad and genuine. Sidonius,
    Arthur noted, seemed slightly embarrassed at this reckless enthusiasm.
    “My brother-by-law,” with a light laugh Sidonius explained, indicating his
    guests be seated and offering them wine, “is an incurable romantic. He has a
    notion of riding with you to sweep the Goths from Gaul forever, in one deft
    charge.” He shook his head at the naivety of such an impossible idea, seated
    himself on a cushioned chair arranging his body straight, small feet neatly placed
    together. “He has an unfortunate disability not to be able to recognise the
    realities of life.” His accompanying smile was sated with indulgent affection.
    Sipping his wine—it was good stuff, the best he had tasted here in this
    town—Arthur answered, “Given the men, horses, and financial backing I was
    promised, more than a year since, I could do just that.” His false smile did little
    to hide his annoyance. Sidonius, ordering the slaves to bring in food and more
    wine, either did not hear or chose to ignore the comment.
    S h a d o w o f t h e k i n g 5 1
    Bedwyr, sitting beside Arthur asked eagerly, “Are you the Ecdicius who after
    that disastrous harvest a few years past, fed all your estate tenants from your own
    granaries through the entire winter?”
    Ecdicius nodded assent. “Not just my tenants, the folk of the settlements
    and their families also. About four thousand in all.” His