Stones of Power 01 - Ghost King by David Gemmell Read Free Book Online

snow from his shoulders.
    'Not a good night for travelling, prince,' he said. 'Still, one or two chores in the morning and you'll soon pay for your keep.'

*
    Victorinus and Gwalchmai had been riding for four days, and for the last two they had been without food. The Roman was more concerned about the state of their supplies than the possibility of capture, for the horses needed grain and without horses they had no chance of leaving the land of the Brigantes.
    'What I would not give for a good bow,' said Gwalchmai, as they spotted several deer on the flanks of a low hill.
    Victorinus did not respond. He was tired and the growth of beard on his square chin made him irritable. A man who liked to be clean, the smell of his own stale sweat also galled him as he scratched at his face, cursing the lack of a razor.
    'You are beginning to look human,' said Gwalchmai. 'Another few months and I'll braid the beard for you - then you can walk in respectable company.'
    Victorinus grinned and some of his ill-humour evaporated. 'We have no coin left, Gwal, but somehow we must find food for the horses.'
    'I suggest we aim for the high ground,' said Gwalchmai, 'and try to spot a village or settlement.

    We can trade some of Caradoc's gear; his sword should fetch a good price.' Victorinus nodded, but he did not like the idea. The saddest fact about the British tribes was that they were incapable of mixing together without bloodshed. The thought of Gwalchmai riding in to any Brigante or Trinovante settlement filled him with apprehension.
    They camped that night in a glade nestling in the bowl of the hills and out of the wind. It snowed heavily, but the two men and their mounts were snug within the shelter of a heavily laden pine and the fire kept their blood from freezing.
    The following morning they located a small settlement consisting of some twelve huts and rode warily in. Gwalchmai seemed unconcerned and Victorinus marvelled anew at the British optimism which pervaded the tribes. They had a total inability to learn from past mistakes, and greeted each new day as an opportunity to replay the errors of the past twenty-four hours.
    'Try not to insult anyone,' urged Victorinus.
    'Have no fear, Roman. Today is a good day.'
    They were met by the village head man, an elderly warrior with braided white hair and a blue tattoo on his forehead in the shape of a spider's web.
    'Greetings, Father,' said Gwalchmai, as a small crowd gathered behind the head man.
    'I am no father to you, South Rat,' answered the man, grinning and showing only one tooth at the top of his jaw.
    'Do not be too sure, Father. You look like a man who spread his seed wide as a youngster, and my mother was a woman who attracted such men.'
    The crowd chuckled and the old man stepped forward, his blue eyes bright. 'Now you mention it, there is a certain family resemblance. I take it you've brought a gift for your old father?'
    'Indeed I have,' said Gwalchmai, stepping down from the saddle and presenting the old man with Caradoc's best knife, an oval-bladed weapon with a hilt of carved bone.
    'From across the Water,' said the old man, hefting the weapon. 'Good iron - and a fine edge.'
    'It is pleasant to be home,' said Gwalchmai. 'Can we rest the night and feed our horses?'
    'But of course, my son.' The old man called forward two youngsters and they led the horses back towards a paddock east of the settlement. 'Join me in my hut.'
    The hut was sparsely furnished, but it was a welcome respite from the wind. There was a cot bed and several rugs, and an iron brazier was burning coal. An elderly woman bowed as they entered and fetched bowls of dark ale and some bread and cheese. The three men sat by the brazier and the ancient identified himself as Golaric, once the champion of the old King Cascioc.
    'A fine king - good with sword or lance. He was murdered by his brother and that cursed Roman, Aurelius.' Golaric's bright eyes switched to Victorinus. 'It is not often that an Order Taker