with the last of his strength, hurled the sword far out over the lake. The assassins swarmed around the fallen king and Thuro saw Cael deliver the death blow. And in that dreadful moment the prince watched as something akin to triumph flared in Aurelius' eyes. The sword hung in the air, hilt down, just above a spot at the centre of the lake where the ice had broken. A slender hand reached up from below the water and drew the sword down.
The scene fragmented and blurred and Thuro's own astonished face appeared on the surface of the water in the bowl. He leaned back and saw Culain watching him intently.
'What you saw was the death of a man,' said Culain softly, respectfully, as if conveying the greatest compliment. 'It was meet that you should see it.'
'I am glad that I did. Did you see his eyes at the end? Did I misread them, or was there joy there?'
'I wondered that, and only time will supply an answer. Did you see the sword?'
'Yes, what did it mean?'
'Simply that Eldared does not have it. And without it he cannot become High King. It is the Sword of Cunobelin. My sword!'
'Of course. My father took it from the stone at Camulodunum; he was the first to be able to draw it.'
Culain chuckled. 'There was little skill in that. Aurelius had Maedhlyn to guide him, and it was Maedhlyn who devised the Stone ploy in the first place. The reason no one could draw the sword was that it was always a heartbeat ahead in time. Draw it? No man could touch it. It was part of the legend of Cunobelin, a legend Maedhlyn and I established four hundred years ago.'
'For what reason?' asked Thuro.
'Vanity. In those days, as I have told you. I had a great ego. And it was fun, Thuro, to be a king. Maedhlyn helped me to age gracefully. I still had the strength of a twenty-five-year-old, within a body that looked wonderfully wrinkled. But then I grew bored and Maedhlyn staged my death - but not before I had dramatically planted my sword in the boulder and created the legend of my return. Who knew then, but that I might want to? Unfortunately events did not fare too well after my departure. A young man named Caractacus decided to anger the Romans and they took the island by force. By then I was elsewhere. Maedhlyn and I crossed the Mist to another age. He had fallen in love with the Greek culture and became a travelling philosopher. But he couldn't resist meddling and he trained a young boy and made him an emperor - conquered most of the world.'
'What did you do?'
'I came home and did what I could for the Britons. I felt somewhat responsible for their plight.
But I did not take up arms until the death of Prasutagas. After he died, the Romans flogged his wife Boudicca and raped his daughters. I raised the Iceni under Boudicca's banner and we harried the invincible Roman army all the way to Londinium, which we burnt to the ground. But the tribes never learnt discipline and we were smashed at Atherstone by that wily fox Paullinus. I took Boudicca and her daughters back to the Feragh and they lived there in some contentment for many years.'
'And did you fight again?' asked Thuro.
'Another day, Thuro. How do you feel?'
'Weary.'
'Good.' Culain removed his own fur-lined jerkin and handed it to the boy. 'This should keep you warm. I want you to return to Laitha's cabin, restore yourself in her good grace and then return here.'
'Could I not rest for a while?'
'Go now,' said Culain. 'And if you can, when you come in sight of her cabin, run. I want some strength built into those spindly legs!'
CHAPTER SIX
Prasamaccus was proud of his reputation as the finest hunter of the Three Valleys. He had worked hard on his bowmanship, but knew that it was his patience that set him apart from the rest. No matter the weather, burning heat or searing cold, he could sit silently for hours waiting the right moment to let fly. No stringy meat for Prasamaccus, for his quarry dropped dead instantly, shot through the heart. No deer he killed had run for a mile with
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