The Book of Dreams(114)

‘I have to stop and rest,’ I told Osric. We were passing a roadside halt where a long stone trough provided a watering place for travellers and their animals. Thankfully the soldiers had not wrecked the place. Water was too precious in such a baked and barren land.

‘We can pause here until the sun drops. As soon as the air cools down, we should push on and try to reach the king wherever he is camped,’ he said, turning aside his horse.

I dismounted with a groan and walked unsteadily to sit on a large flat stone near the water trough. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the pain from my shoulder. In the distance there was the creak of cart wheels, the tramp of feet, the voices of groups of soldiers passing by. Much closer and more soothing was the sound of water trickling down the wooden pipe which brought the water from a distant mountain spring. It served as a balm for my senses, and I must have drifted off into a semi-stupor for the next thing I was aware of was the clatter of many horses’ hooves.

To my annoyance I heard the riders turn in towards where I sat. The noise came very close, and then ceased. Resolutely I continued to sit with my eyes closed, making it plain that I did not wish to be disturbed. One set of horse’s hooves came right up to me. A shadow blocked the sunlight and I sensed the animal looming above me. I heard a loud, deep snuffle. Finally, very reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

I was looking directly into the gaping nostrils of a broad-chested war horse. It was standing over me, so close that if the creature had taken another step it would have trodden me under its vast hoof. Beyond the massive animal, I found myself locking eyes with Carolus himself. Dusty from the road and dressed in plain travelling clothes, the king was gazing down, his expression careworn and impatient. Behind him his retinue was drawn up in a circle.

Alarmed, I scrambled to my feet. But my legs failed me, and I sank to my knees, startling the great war horse. Trained to battle, it raised one hoof and would have struck me down if the king had not pulled on the reins and made the stallion step back a pace. I picked myself up and made an unsteady bow.

‘The young man who interprets dreams,’ Carolus said.

‘Your Majesty,’ I blurted.

‘Shouldn’t you be with my nephew? I hear that the rearguard is in trouble.’ He spoke in that unmistakable high-pitched voice, and his words rattled around inside my skull.

I swallowed hard and managed to croak, ‘Your Majesty, the news is bad.’

His eyes narrowed as he regarded me closely. For a long moment he sat on his great horse, taking in the extent of my exhausted condition, the bandaged wound, my state of near collapse. Abruptly he turned to his attendants.

‘Clear the area! I need to speak with this man in private. And set up an awning so I am out of this cursed sun.’

There was a jingle of harness as the royal party wheeled about. A groom ran up and held the war horse’s head while Carolus dismounted, then led the great animal away. A line of guards took up position along the roadside to prevent anyone intruding, and I saw them hustle Osric away. Within minutes a small open-sided tent had been erected from a bundle of canvas and poles carried on a pack pony, and stools, benches and a travelling chair appeared. Two servants held me up, one on each side, as I walked unsteadily to where the king had taken his place seated in the shade.

Carolus subjected me to a long, brooding stare. Then, seeing that I was swaying on my feet, he added, ‘You may sit.’

Gratefully I sank down on a stool.

‘Tell me what you know about my nephew,’ he commanded as soon as the two servants were out of earshot.

‘Count Hroudland is . . . dead, Your Majesty,’ I said. ‘He and Count Anselm and Eggihard died defending the rearguard of your army.’

‘When and where did this happen?’

‘Yesterday, just short of the mountain pass. The rearguard was ambushed and badly outnumbered.’

‘By whom?’ The question was delivered in a flat voice.

I told him about the Vascons, and all that had happened from the moment we had been ambushed. I omitted any details about the foray to find the rumoured Graal. I did not want to give the king any indication that Hroudland might have been irresponsible.

When I finished my description of the catastrophe, the king sat very still.

‘Strange,’ he said quietly. ‘Last night, just as I was falling asleep, I thought I heard the sound of a horn. Not once, but several times, far in the distance.’

‘The battle took place half a day’s ride from here, Your Majesty. No sound could carry that far,’ I said.

He gave me a strange look.

‘Maybe I was already asleep and dreaming,’ he said. ‘You would understand that.’