Arthur Imperator by Paul Bannister Page B

drifted into an exhausted doze, gently murmuring for her child. Moments passed, then the enchantress sat upright and declaimed in a surprisingly strong voice that caused the guard to growl a warning. “Nicevenn and Ogmia, do not desert me now,” she said loudly. “Myrddin, send to Arthur.” 
     
    Something seemed to shake me awake, and I looked to see a sleek, almost luminous white rat moving slowly across the corner of my sleeping chamber in Chester. My hand went for to the dagger under my pillow, but I consciously stayed the movement. I had seen this white rat before, at critical moments in my life. Now I was about to understand.
    The Rat had been there when, as a boy, I ran from my father’s killers. It had crossed my path as I ran through the trees. It was there on the day I opted to join the Roman Army, and I had remembered that other day in the trees. I’d seen it when I escaped death at the collapse of King Mosae’s citadel wall, and it had been dropped into my path by a hawk, a tremendous augury of good fortune witnessed by the troops, as I rode into Eboracum to be acclaimed Imperator.
    The creature seemed to fade away, and I felt the urgent need to sleep, although my mind was churning. Almost at once I went into a trance-like doze. An image of Guinevia was before me, and she was holding the Rat, offering it to me. A series of scenes flashed through my mind. Here was Myrddin, tall and dark and ominous, standing illumined against a dance of ancient stones. His eyes seemed to drill into my brain and I understood he had sent the Rat to my Guinevia as her powerful familiar. 
    A series of images rolled by. Here was the Rat that I had not noticed, at the times when it had been present but unseen. Here, it crouched in a corner as I was commissioned by the Emperor Carus, and here it was at the moment in Bononia when I heard of the scroll that led us to the lost Eagle. It was there in the Scots temple when Guinevia sacrificed a man, a gift to the gods that may have saved my life, as the next day I was captured and nearly executed. The images continued. The Rat was also an unseen witness on the day I opted to become Arthur, and tie myself closer to Britain; and it was there preening its whiskers on one of the cairns that marked the trap that destroyed the Romans at Dungeness.
    It was coming clear. This could not be a natural creature that had been in Britain, Belgica and Rome, then in Gaul, and Pictland and Eboracum and Dungeness. It seemingly had been present at every point of great importance in my life. Now, for no reason I knew, another hinge of my history was turning and the Rat was here as its herald. 
    I sat up abruptly, fully awake. Guinevia. My enchantress was sending me her cry. Something wicked was happening, it was undoubted, as definite as if she had walked in herself to tell me. Across the chamber, the Rat was calmly viewing me, eyes glittering redly. Guinevia, or Myrddin had sent the messenger and I could not delay. 
    I was off the cot, stamping out into the courtyard, calling for Cragus, Allectus, the guard captain and horses. My big hounds Axis and Javelin, whose gaze had slid over the Rat without reaction, were at my heels whining. We had ground to cover and an enchantress to find. On a thought, I turned back, rummaged in Guinevia’s clothes chest and pulled out one of her scarves. The scent might be needed.
    It was the work of an hour to make the arrangements, brief Allectus and Androcles on emergency measures should the Saxons come, arrange a corps of couriers to race messages back and forth and to arm and equip a half-century, 40 pony soldiers, to ride with me. I selected a couple of grizzled decurio cavalry commanders to take charge of the horses and men and instructed them that we would be travelling light and fast, so to bring remounts and forage nets. It would be spears and swords only, no shields. What I planned would involve no defensive wall but an unexpected strike. I also commanded three