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  For a while they ate in companionable silence, the rain pattering onto the grass around them. Chonrad tried not to look at the limp sleeve hanging at Dolosus’ side. “How long have you been Dean?” he asked, swigging down a mouthful of ale.

  “Two years,” said Dolosus, chewing on a piece of pork.

  “Do you like the job?”

  Dolosus swallowed and sighed. “The role of a Dean is to provide support to other Militis. I cannot truly say it is a role I was born for.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  Dolosus licked his fingers, studying Chonrad for a while as if unsure if he could trust him. Chonrad just ate steadily, waiting for him to talk.

  “There is not a lot else I can do,” Dolosus shrugged eventually.

  “Would you not be more suited to the role of a Custos?”

  “Valens thought this would be more… challenging.”

  “Valens?” His food finished, Chonrad pushed his plate away and stretched out his legs. He looked at Dolosus thoughtfully. “He recommended you for Dean?”

  Dolosus nodded. “Dulcis was not certain I would be right for the position but he insisted. She was right, of course.”

  Chonrad wondered if this was the Militis Dulcis had referred to with regret. “Does Valens usually put himself to so much trouble for other knights caught drunk on duty?”

  Dolosus met Chonrad’s eye. Chonrad raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down. He had done his research – he wasn’t going to go on such a dangerous mission without knowing as much as possible about the knights fighting beside him. Dolosus shrugged. “Sometimes I think Valens sees himself in me. I do not know why – I do not think we are anything alike. After the incident on the Wall, he was angry with me. Maybe he hopes to transform me into what he became – a great leader.” He shrugged again. “If that is so, then he is in for a great disappointment.”

  III

  Chonrad watched as Dolosus promptly got up and, returning his plate, made his way over to the Barracks. He sat there with Fulco a while longer, too tired to move, thinking about what the Militis had said and watching the rain. It had not stopped since the storm had arrived with the Darkwater Lords. He frowned, looking up at the grey clouds, which showed no signs of clearing. Was the weather actually due to the Darkwater Lords’ arrival, or was it a coincidence?

  He sighed. He was too tired to think straight and he didn’t want to spend another night on the hard ground. He pulled Fulco to his feet and they walked over to the Barracks and went up to the first floor, which was still relatively empty, and found two beds in the corner. They lay down, still fully armoured, and Chonrad looked up at the rain-washed windows and sighed, missing Procella’s weight on his shoulder.

  When he finally awoke, the sun had risen, although it was still raining and there was no sign of its welcoming rays to warm up the land. He woke Fulco, and they went out to the makeshift lavatorium, had a wash and then helped themselves to a bowl of porridge the Militis had cooking on a huge cauldron over a fire in the Quad.

  People were already beginning to assemble and so he hung around, seeing Procella coming down the main road with about thirty or so members of the Exercitus in tow. As they approached, Valens went over to converse with her and then pulled up a low bench and climbed awkwardly onto it, favouring his left leg.

  “My friends,” he called to gain their attention. “Procella has been recruiting from the Exercitus for those who wish to take part in the tasks. She has divided them up into the relevant groups, so if the Quest Leaders would now like to take their groups away and discuss the Quests with them, you may do so. I know you wish to spend most of the day sorting out supplies and horses and finalising your routes. However, Nitesco here would also like to see those of you on the Node Quests to talk to you about the activation of the Nodes.”

  He took a list from Procella and proceeded to call out the names of the Exercitus volunteers, allocating them to the Quest Leaders. Chonrad watched to see who she had picked for their descent into Darkwater. Valens called out three names and those Militis stepped forward to join her. One was called Solum; a knight probably from Wulfengar, he thought, with thick dark hair and a rather fierce but intelligent expression. The second was called Hora. A Laxonian, she was tall and slim, and from the way she moved he could see she was fit and agile, almost certainly an excellent knight. The third was called Terreo. Chonrad blinked as he stepped forwards. He was huge! Taller even than Fulco! Almost as broad as he was tall, the brown-haired Militis towered over him, and Chonrad was by no means small himself. He raised an eyebrow as Procella came over to him, smiling. “I didn’t know there was giant in Laxonian blood,” he said wryly.

  She grinned and bent close to whisper to him. “He is not the smartest in the bunch, but he is built like a stone lavatorium and nothing gets through him. Do not worry; Solum and Hora have enough brains for all of us put together.”

  Chonrad nodded, reassured by the company.

  The Exercitus allocated, it was time to start preparing for the trips. Chonrad felt at a loss. There was no point making plans for their journey to Darkwater when they weren’t even sure if it was possible; they had to wait for Nitesco to find out how to transform them before they could leave. He wandered around for a while, wondering if anyone needed any help, but everyone seemed very busy talking and drawing plans.

  As he came around the southern side of the Castellum, he saw an awning had been erected between a couple of oaks, and a group of people sat beneath it. He came nearer to see what was going on, not wanting to interrupt, but when Silva saw him and Fulco, she beckoned them closer. They sat on the cushions at the edge of the group.

  The knights around him were those going on the Nodes Quests, about twenty in all. Silva was talking about the power of the Veriditas, and she and Nitesco, who sat beside her, were discussing their views on how to get the Nodes activated.

  “The Quercetum emphasises the importance of the physical centre of the Node,” Nitesco said. “We must not be mistaken in thinking this is only an energy core. It is just as important for you to correct any way in which the site has become dilapidated – that means moving rubble, resetting any fallen stones, cleaning any standing stones, clearing weeds and moss and just generally making the site clear.” He looked over at Gravis. “Of course, large fallen standing stones in the Henge will be a problem. It is possible there may be people living nearby who can help. If not, you will just have to do the best you can.”

  “And now for the Veriditas,” said Silva. She shook back her long black hair, and her gold eyes glowed. “I only wish we had been able to find the Virimage before you set out on your journey. But alas, I shall have to share with you the little I know and hope that will help you to activate the Nodes.

  “As we all know, Veriditas is a combination of two words – Viridis, which is green, and Veritas, which is truth. Therefore, Veriditas is the process of looking within us and seeing the truth – accepting who we are, and in doing that letting the power of Animus sweep through us to the land. Like this.”

  She cupped her hands around a small daisy and closed her eyes. Those seated around her strained over others’ heads to look. For a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, the daisy began to grow, its petals unfurling and stretching out as if the sun had come out, its stem lengthening and its leaves greening and glossing under her hands.

  Those who had not yet seen Silva do her magic gasped. She opened her eyes and smiled ruefully. “I wish it could be more. And hopefully the Virimage will help us all to increase this flow of energy. But anyway, I will show you what I can. Please, find a flower near you and place your hands over it.”

  Chonrad looked around, wondering if he was expected to partake in the experiment, saw everyone looking for a flower and shrugged and turned to the small group of daisies beside him. He separated one stem from the others and cupped it in his palms. Fulco stared at him. Chonrad gestured for Fulco to do the same. His bodyguard raised an eyebrow, but did as he was bid.


  “Close your eyes,” Silva instructed. “Now, I want you to imagine yourself as a vessel, a cup, and the sunlight – if there were any – is the love of Animus streaming down and filling you up. You are being filled with a golden light that runs through your veins and into the flower between your hands. Imagine yourself as made of glass, clear and pure; acknowledge the fact that you have faults, and put them to one side; realise you have done things wrong in the past, and put them to one side. You are clean, wholesome and thoroughly deserving of Animus’s love, it runs through you, cleansing, washing out all the imperfections, making you pure and whole once again…”

  Chonrad tried to concentrate, but found himself distracted by the tap-tapping of the rain on the awning and the small sounds of people shuffling awkwardly on the grass. He tried to focus on Silva’s voice, her low, mellow tone, and he imagined the sun coming out from the clouds and shining on him, pouring the yellow light like butter down on him and through his veins. Animus loves me, he said to himself. But did he really believe it?

  He opened his eyes cautiously and looked at the flower in his hands. It didn’t seem to have changed. Had the petals opened a little? Perhaps it was just his imagination.

  Around him, everyone compared what they had produced to their neighbours. Gravis and Grimbeald both stared ruefully at their offerings, declaring no change, as did most of the others in the gathering. Nitesco’s daisy appeared to have grown by a finger’s height, which made him beam with pleasure. To Chonrad’s amazement – and slight indignation – Fulco’s also appeared to have bloomed a little, and he scowled at Fulco’s superior smile. And then an exclamation made everyone turn and look at Gavius. Chonrad stared. The daisy within the twin’s hands had grown to twice its size. The petals had unfurled and glowed white, and the yellow inside was like a small, golden sun. The thick, shiny leaves curled in his fingers.

  “Wow,” Gavius said.

  Gravis pulled a face. “You changed it while we had our eyes closed,” he complained. Everyone laughed, dispelling the tension a little. However, Chonrad saw the look that lingered on Gravis’s face when he thought no one was looking. Jealousy? Resentment? Chonrad frowned. Maybe the twins’ relationship was not as perfect as everyone imagined it to be.

  “Very well done,” said Silva. “But the rest of you, please do not be despondent. I did not really expect any results today. All I wanted to show you was the technique. Please, practice this as much as possible on your way to the Nodes. It will help you when you get there.” She got to her feet. “Now that’s the Quartus Campana. That is our weapons practice time, for those of you who wish to join us.”

  IV

  Later, the high meal of the day turned out to be a great party, as if everyone was aware this might be the last time they were all together. Nobody wanted to admit they were nervous or scared about the coming adventures, and wanted instead to forget for a night and enjoy the short time they had left with their friends.

  The Hanaireans had brought a small troop of musicians with them to entertain them on the long journey, and so they set themselves up on a small platform to one side of the Quad and played through the night as everyone danced and sang or just sat and listened to the music.

  The Quad had been covered with a succession of awnings to keep off the now-constant rain, and the earth floor underneath was spread with rushes gathered from the banks of the Flumen outside Heartwood, mixed with sprigs of rosemary and thyme so the sweet smell of the herbs kept drifting up as people walked or danced across them. Chairs and cushions were scattered to the sides, and tables set up along the southern edge of the Quad on which a feast had been prepared in honour of the adventures about to be undertaken.

  “It is a fine spread,” said Chonrad to Valens, who stood to one side watching the dancers with a smile.

  “We cannot really afford to use so much food, but I could not send everyone away on bread and water,” said Valens.

  “It would help if Fulco was not eating half of it on his own,” Chonrad said wryly, seeing his bodyguard walk past with his usual huge plate of bread and meat.

  Valens smiled, then sighed. “Now Wulfengar are refusing to give us the Charitas, our supplies will dwindle even more.”

  “How long could you withstand a siege?”

  Valens thought about it. “We have sacks of wheat, oats and barley in the grain store, which should last us a while, and barrels of salted meat and fish. We have our own vegetable gardens which are still supplying us with a good yield, although obviously it is down from last year, and this continual rain will not help their growth. But we have some put aside for an emergency. We have a few cows, which can supply us with milk and cheese, although not as much as we would like. Our well, at least, should give us water, and anyway with all this rain we should not be short of a drink.” He sighed. “We would probably be able to last for a couple of months without having to cut rations drastically. Let us hope it does not come to that.”

  Chonrad nodded. He saw Valens looking across the Quad at someone and followed his gaze to see Dolosus sitting by himself, a cup of ale in his hand, watching the dancing morosely. Chonrad frowned, intrigued by the Imperator’s connection with this Militis. “You are concerned for Dolosus?” he enquired, wondering if Valens would open up.

  Valens looked at him. “I think he will perform more than adequately on your Quest.”

  “That is not what I meant.” Chonrad smiled. “I think he means more to you than just another Heartwood knight. Am I right?”

  For a moment Valens’s face was carefully guarded, but suddenly, as if aware this was the night of nights and everything could end on the morrow, he sighed and nodded. “He is like the son I never had,” he admitted. “I was very like him in my youth.”

  “You were?” Chonrad could not imagine Valens sulky or morose.

  Valens smiled. “I suppose you are not aware, but I too came late to Heartwood. I was born in Wulfengar and grew up, like Dolosus, without a true house to call my home. My father was a visiting knight who took a fancy to the serving wench who was my mother, and I never knew him. When she died at the age of twenty-five, I was only nine years old. Nobody wanted me; I was another mouth to feed in a village where food was not in abundance. So I left and went to the nearest city and made a living here and there, helping in smithies mainly. I soon learned all about swords and armour and, like Dolosus, learned how to wield them. And eventually I attached myself to a raiding party. It was through them that I learned of Heartwood, so one day I walked up the gates and asked to join.”

  “Thank goodness they said yes!”

  “Oh, they did not, initially,” said Valens mischievously. “But I sat outside and refused to move. Eventually, the old Abbatis came out to see me himself and after speaking to me, agreed to give me a trial. And I have never looked back.”

  Chonrad nodded. He looked over at Dolosus. “And are you grooming him to take your place one day?”

  A frown marred Valens’s features and for a moment he didn’t answer. “I was getting there… and then he lost his arm. It should not make any difference to a leader, of course, but it has affected him so much; he feels less than a knight, and it has deepened the anger and mistrust that have simmered within him since childhood.” He shrugged. “But I will persevere. It is difficult, feeling nobody wants you. He should not have to feel that way.”

  Chonrad walked to the edge of the awning, looking up at the sky. For a brief moment, the rain had eased, and stars sparkled like a scatter of diamonds on the black velvet cloak of the sky. “The future is so uncertain,” he murmured.

  “The wheel of time turns continuously,” said Valens, joining him. “It is always so. It is only that we are more aware of it at this moment.”

  Procella came up to them both, breathless, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes glittered, and she winked at Chonrad as she held out a hand. “You are so boring, standing there in the shadows and talking,” she exclaimed. “Come and dance.”

  Chonrad blinked, surprised at her
sudden gaiety. But he smiled and took her hand, and let himself be led forwards to the space where people were moving to the music in a beautiful dance like the movement of the stars above their heads.

  V

  The next morning, Chonrad awoke at first light to hear the rain had started again and was patting away merrily at the windows of the Barracks.

  He walked over to one of the tables and helped himself to a large bowl of porridge. Turning, he glanced around at the people in the Quad, looking for a familiar face.

  Beata was already there, dressed in full mail, looking fresh and determined as she checked her horse’s fittings and filled the small baskets that hung on either side of her saddle with her belongings.

  “Travelling light?” said Chonrad with a smile, walking up to her as he ate his porridge.

  She turned to face him, her eyes as grey as the storm clouds above their heads, and nodded. “Just a little clothing, my weapons and a few odds and ends.”

  “If I do not get the chance to say it later, good luck on your Quest,” said Chonrad sincerely. “I am sure you will find the Virimage and encourage him to come back.”

  “Oh, he will be coming back all right,” said Beata vehemently, “if I have to drag him by the earlobes.”

  Chonrad raised an eyebrow, sensing she wasn’t jesting. “Can I get you something to eat?” he asked, watching her moving restlessly as she checked and rechecked the contents of the panniers.

  She shot him a quick smile. “No, thank you. Too nervous to eat.”

  As the hour passed and the Secundus Campana rang, the Quad gradually filled up. Chonrad busied himself with helping others to pack belongings into horses’ baskets, kept the steeds quiet while the parties moved around getting organised, and generally did whatever he could to stop himself feeling useless. He helped to wrap bread in cloths, roll up blankets, load bags with apples, carry buckets of water from the well and fill up leather water bottles, double-check routes on maps and generally cheer everyone up as tension spread throughout the vicinity and nerves became taut.