man to the left shouted. “I’m going to the Druid Stone to see it again.”
The people murmured in assent and turned to walk back to Mórganthu. Only Tregeagle’s wife and daughter and a monk in his ridiculous robe now stood between Connek’s knife and Merlin, with that tempting prize. The monk had his eyes closed, foolishly praying to his god, and the women, conferring together, would never be able stop him.
Best of all, Merlin was blind as a worm and wouldn’t even flinch. Connek’s memory still burned with images of Merlin and his father wrestling him to the ground, trussing him, and sending him to Tregeagle for judgment. No more would he smell these spoiled rich people’s food. No more would he go around in near rags or sleep in the cold with nothing but his cloak. Gold to finally live at ease!
Connek slipped his hand into his sleeve and gripped his trusty knife. Just last month it had helped him secretly kill and rob a man in the woods outside the village of Meneth Garrow. Oh, how it itched to be used again. Just two more steps and he’d plunge it into the braggart’s chest, grab the torc, and run.
CHAPTER 14
A CHANGE OF PLANS
As Connek tensed his legs to lunge forward, the sound of horse’s hooves pounded down the road. Up the main village track from the east galloped at least twenty horsemen. The ones in front wore ring-mail doublets, while the rest were clad in thick leather jerkins. Many had longswords at their belts, and all carried spears and shields. Their steeds glistened with sweat, and the riders looked grim with their long whiskers and polished helms.
Seeing the large crowd gathered in the western half of the village pasture, the warrior in front raised his arm and led his band to the open eastern side. Right up to Merlin and Connek.
Rat bones!
Connek’s face grew hot with anger as he hid his knife once more. He shouldn’t have waited. If he’d killed Merlin instead of daydreaming, he could have run to the safety of the nearby woods. But not now. These warriors would gallop after him and spear him like a jousting dummy.
Four men lifted ox horns and let out a blast that hurt Connek’s ears.
The warrior in front had a dirty yellow beard that hung between the chains of a polished silver amulet — ripe for plucking, Connek thought. Then his gaze fell on the golden boar securing the leader’s dark-red cloak, the insignia of a personal soldier of Uther, High King of the Britons. That, too, would be excellent loot … But then Connek saw the two-handed sword strapped to the man’s back and decided that perhaps there were easier targets for his thievery.
Mórganthu, Anviv, and some attending druidow edged up to the mounted warriors. Connek could see Mórganthu’s stiffness as he surveyed the situation.
Trevenna, the magister’s wife, whispered in the ear of some little brat, maybe eight winters old, and handed him a cheap coin. The boy raced over the stone wall and disappeared up the path leading to the top of the hill.
The lead warrior swung down from his horse and laughed. “You’re a peculiar village with such a young chieftain.” He stepped up to Merlin, who had just descended from the Rock of Judgment along with the monk.
The monk whispered to Merlin, who thought for a moment and then shook his head. “I’m not a leader here.”
“Should I believe this?” the warrior asked.
“These people follow their own hearts.”
“Yet you bear a torc of such workmanship.”
Oh, how Connek wished to rip the torc off that neck! Soon, soon.
“But for your age,” the warrior continued, “I would swear that you feast our host this night. Where is your chieftain, then — Tregeagle — whom men here call Magister?”
“Tregeagle resides up the hill.” Merlin held out his staff toward the Tor. “His wife and daughter are in your presence, and you are expected.”
The man squinted. “You see well for being blind.”
“God has made up for what I lack.”
Trevenna introduced herself. “Are you his battle chieftain, the one called Vortigern?”
“I am that and more.” He turned away from her and surveyed the field, the village’s meeting house, and the spring beyond.
“As there is good pasture here,” Trevenna said, “and very little on the Tor, my husband will come down to greet you. But what of …” Her eyes searched among the men.
Vortigern cleared his throat. “The High King? Uther is coming … and Queen Igerna … along with