“You favor us with your presence,” said Gwyddno.

“I have not seen you for a long time, Lord Gwyddno” began Avitus.

“I paid my taxes!” protested Gwyddno quickly.

The tribune raised his hands to show he meant no offense. “Please, I was not thinking of taxes,” explained Avitus. “To tell you the truth, I wish more lords would pay as promptly. It would be a blessing. No, I only meant that it has been some time since I have had the pleasure of your company.”

“Is that what brings you here today? My company?”

“Father!” The voice from the doorway was at once genial and mildly reproachful. The men turned as Elphin came to the table. “I was told we had important visitors.”

“Aye,” agreed Gwyddno, less readily than he might have.

“Prince Elphin.” The tribune inclined his head in greeting. “I am pleased to greet you. Allow me to present Centurion Magnus Maximus, newly assigned to the Twentieth.”

“Centurion Maximus, welcome,” he said, sitting with them.

The soldiers exchanged puzzled glances. Gwyddno saw what passed between them and said, “My son will join us. He is taking an active interest in my affairs lately.”

“I see,” said Avitus. “You are to be commended, Prince Elphin. Your father is a highly respected man.”

“They have come seeking my company,” offered Gwyddno by way of explanation.

“And your aid,” added the tribune bluntly. “I have no wish to veil the true reasons for my visit. We need your help.”

“Help!” snorted Gwyddno. “My taxes are not enough, they want my help too.”

“You know,” said Avitus gently, “I was born in Gwynedd, and so was my father. My mother and grandmother are Britons; so is my wife. I am nearly as British as you are, Lord Gwyddno. And we are both citizens of the same empire.”

Gwyddno snorted again but said nothing. The tribune continued, “The men of my family are soldiers; we have served the Empire loyally for generations. We have a small farm near Arfon. And when my command is over I will live there as your neighbor.”

“I understand what you are saying,” said Elphin. “Helping you is like helping a kinsman.”

“It is helping yourselves,” put in Maximus.

“Oh? I suppose it is my own hand in my purse and not the Emperor’s at tax time?” questioned Gwyddno.

“Without the Emperor’s army up the road, you would find the Cruithne’s hands in your purse and their knives at your throat, you old”

“That will do, Maximus!” Avitus glared at his subordinate. “Please forgive the centurion. He is new to this province and is finding it difficult to accustom himself to the ways of the people hereabouts.”

Gwyddno scowled and turned his face away. Elphin ignored his father’s bad manners. “How can we help you, Tribune?”

Avitus leaned forward on his arms. “I do not need to tell you that the Cruithne are becoming more bold lately, raiding further south and inland each year. This summer we expect them to come into Gwynedd, perhaps as far as the Dyvi.

“And not Cruithne only-Picti, Attacotti, Scotti and Saec-sen too. Every motherless savage among them is on the move these days. They come out of the very cracks in the rocks, it seems.”

“Let them come,” said Gwyddno. “We will be ready.”

“I am certain you will,” replied Avitus patiently. “But the villages on the coast and in the valleys will not be prepared. They are not fortified.”

“What can we do?” asked Elphin.

“Governor Flavian has proposed to send a cohort up north of the Wall to patrol this summer. Segontium has been ordered to provide the auxiliary for Deva and Eboracum. The governor believes that if we make our presence felt, we may discourage them from coming down-perhaps stop them altogether. I am asking you to stand supply for the auxiliary.”

Before Gwyddno could answer Elphin said, “You have it.”

Avitus and Maximus glanced at each other. Avitus could not hide his smile.

“And anything else you need. I believe you asked Killydd for men.”

“We did. He gave us horses-which are welcome, to be sure, but we need men as well.”

“Does the emperor not have enough men?” asked Gwyddno snidely.

“Wars elsewhere take our strength. None of the legions is fully manned.”

“You shall have the men too,” said Elphin decisively. His father stared at him but did not gainsay him.

“Prince Elphin, your generosity is most gratifying.” Avitus sat back and allowed himself a sip from his cup.

“My generosity has a price, Tribune Avitus.”

“Yes?” Avitus sat up warily.

“I will give you the men and stand supply for them, but I want them trained and returned to me when you are finished.”

“You shall have it and gladly,” said Avitus. “But may I ask your reason for this request?”

“I intend raising a warband.”

“I see.” The implications suggested themselves to the tribune at once. “A Roman-trained warband would be most effective.”

“You do not approve?”

“Officially? No, I do not approve. But I understand and will not hinder you. We must admit that Rome is having difficulty protecting all her subjects. You are half-a-day’s ride from the nearest garrison-a trained warband will give you what we cannot provide.”

“A warband?” wondered Gwyddno. He nodded slowly, eyes narrowed, as if seeing his son in an unexpected new light.

“How many men do you need?”

“As many as you can spare.”

“A century,” put in Maximus.

“A hundred?” Elphin did some rapid calculation. “Very well, a hundred. And I will be among them.”

“Prince Elphin, there is no need”

“No, it must be this way. You see, I wish to learn command. I will ride with my men.”

“So be it!” Tribune Avitus pounded the table with his fist and smiled. He lifted his cup in a toast. “Death to Rome’s enemies!”

They drank and the soldiers rose to leave. “Join us as soon as you have raised your men. The sooner the better. That will give us more time to train them.”

“We will join you before another full moon has passed,” promised Elphin.

“Until we meet again then, Prince.” Avitus saluted, Max-imus likewise, and they marched out of the house.

Elphin and his father followed and watched them ride away. When they had gone Gwyddno turned to his son. “You never told me anything about raising a warband.”

“There was no time. But if you are worried about”

“No. It is a good plan. I will stand for the supply.” He smiled suddenly. “But you will be king, lad, and battlechief. Just like the lords of old.” Gwyddno’s eyes glittered with the glory of it. “Come Samhain there will be none to challenge your right to the kingship.”

Charis rose early and dressed quickly. she chose a ripe pear from a bowl on the table and sauntered outside onto the balcony to enjoy the garden, chewing the soft, sweet pulp. She saw someone walking along one of the vine-trimmed pathways below. It was Annubi, head down, legs stumping, arms jerking oddly.

Balancing the half eaten pear on the railing, she slipped lightly down the steps and hastened after him, following for a while. But the seer was so completely absorbed in his thoughts, he took no notice of her, and Charis soon grew tired of being ignored and drew even with him. “Where have you been, Annubi? I have not seen you since we arrived.”

He turned his head and said tartly, “So you are awake. Is it midday already?”

“Who can sleep? Today is the Festival of Kings. I do not want to miss a thing.”

“Not that you could.” He turned his attention back to the path before him.

“You should stop drinking that vile wine of yours,” she told him. “You are becoming quite as sour as it is.”

If he heard her he gave no indication. “I \have been talking to the Magi… Ha! Bickering with small-minded, venomous lizards.”

Charis laughed. “Is that where you have been all this time? With the Magi? What did they say to upset you?”