The Praetorium, as Arthur’s residence was called, was a typical Roman home with vestibule, atrium and garden. It had been built along with the fort during the Roman occupation and had been Arthur’s home since birth. His father had been installed there as governor of the city and surrounding provinces. In his day, the town had been the last outpost of Roman control in Britain. Now, it was the king’s primary residence.
Arthur stepped out of his chamber into the garden. It was a gaudy Roman spectacle, complete with columns and a statue of a late centurion in the middle of it. Arthur himself had little time to spare for it, but his wife liked the cultured flowers and so it was kept for her amusement. From the garden he found a back door that led to a military courtyard. It was a hot, square place, devoid of shade, where soldiers and horses tramped up the dust contributing to the irritation of the throat of ever passer-by. He crossed it quickly and came to the stable, formerly used to house the Roman cavalry, now only home to the horses belonging to Arthur and his house.
From left to right, stalls lined the walls. Immediately across from the entrance was another door leading out into the practice yard where horses could be broken and taught their paces. At the far right end was a door leading into the armory, while at the left was a gated archway for the comings and goings of riders and their mounts. Arthur looked round for his wife and saw her in one of the stalls, calmly grooming one of the few horses who called this place home. She had her back to him and he approached as quietly as possible. It wasn’t every day he had such an ideal situation in which to sneak up on his wife.
“Do you want to go for a ride, my husband?” she asked, without turning around.
He smiled. There had really been no chance for him. “How did you know it was me?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Everyone else wouldn’t dare sneak up on me,” she laughed. “I’m a queen, after all.”
“The most beautiful I have ever seen,” he complimented her. He found his horse in his stall, saddle at the ready. He began to make preparations for a ride. “I thought we might go outside the wall today,” he said nonchalantly. “As I hear it, there is some fun on the field.”
Guinevere crossed to the other side of her horse so she could face her husband. “Its not Cador again, is it?” she asked. “I was sure that after last time there wouldn’t be any more trouble. Three stern warnings should have been enough.”
“I thought so, too. But it seems we were both wrong. Guinevere, I’m afraid I can’t let it pass this time. I have to punish him or everyone will get the idea that they can just the king’s command.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I won’t pretend that he is the easiest man to keep in check, but he is generally good about this type of thing.”
“I think, maybe, this has more to do with our honored cleric than Cador himself. He might be doing this more because of Paulus’ influence than outright rebellion.”
“Whatever the reason, we really can’t let him off easy this time. And he is not going to take that well.” They finished saddling their mounts in silence. Guinevere was the first to mount up. “Ready?” she asked.
Arthur followed suit, taking care to make sure his sword was in its place. “Ready.” He spurred his horse to a trot and they began the short trip through town to the gate.
The Roman fort known as Luguvallium had been in place for hundreds of years ever since the first legion had been posted there. It had gone through many stages of development, from a mere camp to a wood construction and to its final form, the impressive stone fort it was as Arthur and Guinevere rode through it. It had stood for generations and it everyone suspected it would probably stand for generations more.
The town of Luguvallium outside the fort had arisen when retiring legionaries had settled there with their families, creating a crude encompassing settlement. There were no straight streets, typical of Roman engineering, and there were no public buildings. The first homes were wood huts made with timber from the surrounding forests and the native Briton round houses with their squat conical shape. As town and fort grew, engineers were brought in to “make straight the paths” that had been created by Briton inhabitants. Thus, the efficient grid patterns of stone used all over the empire. In between the structure and order that the Romans had brought were the elegantly winding smaller dirt streets that moved within the pattern of the earth. Over time, the forum and basilica had been built, that mainstay of Roman life that brought all people together for business, meetings, and religious events. There were a few temples scattered through the town and the most recent addition to the town, the public baths which were only one hundred years old. Around all these buildings sprung up plaster houses for upper class members of society, “apartment” buildings where many unmarried gentlemen were able to rent a few rooms from a reliable landlord, and of course the small houses of the poorer classes. All in all, it was as diverse a town as could be found in the north of Britain.
Arthur and Guinevere rode out of the main gate of the fort and down the wide main street past the forum. After a few right turns, they past out of the town onto the plain before Hadrian’s Wall. The Romans had leveled the ground before the gate for at least three hundred yards, even cutting back the forest for the purpose of preventing surprise attacks. Anyone who wanted to attack the fort would have to cross yard upon yard of open space, leaving themselves open to the archers on the wall. Even if an enemy did manage to get across in numbers, it was nearly impossible to scale the wall without being killed. Once again, Roman ingenuity prevailed.
There on the plane before them, was a small group of men and horses gathered around two men who seemed to be in an argument. The jumping figure was easily recognizable as the thin, scholarly priest, Father Paulus. The other man was Cador, the Arthur’s foster son, Cador. He was of middle height, dark headed and, even from a distance, fair skinned. Unlike the priest, he stood still, holding a bow in one hand and a bag in the other. As the riders drew closer, they could hear the argument going on.
“It is the Sabbath!” cried the priest, deliberately pronouncing the words. “While you may gamble every other day, you are under a strict injunction by the king, no less, not to do so on the Lord’s Day.”
“If you are so intent on keeping the Sabbath, Father,” said Cador calmly, “I suggest you keep it. I’m sure there is some prohibition on such rigorous exercise as you are putting yourself through here.” He was facing the priest passively, but his forehead was furrowed and red, the only sign of his aggravation. He also seemed impatient for he fiddle with the bow in his hand.
The antagonized priest pulled his hair angrily, almost on the verge of violence. He sputtered and spat for upwards of two minutes and, if not for the gravity of the situation as Arthur saw it, it would have been quite comical. They drew up their horses before the group recalling Paulus to his senses with a greeting. The priest’s face brightened considerably at the presence of his monarch, who he assumed would uphold him in this case. A young man standing with Cador whispered in his ear, only to be shrugged off. He drew his gaze up to them, smiling happily at his mother and nodding courteously to Arthur.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, sire?” he asked deliberately, though it was apparent he already knew.
“We were wondering if you would join us for a ride,” said Arthur. “It is a pleasant day.”
“It is indeed, but I’m afraid that I do not have a mount at present. My horse died a few days ago. He was old and it was his time.”
“I didn’t know. Perhaps one of your comrades would lend you a horse?”
“Here, Cador,” said a sandy haired boy, no more than fourteen years of age, “take mine. Aggravain can give me a ride home.”
“Thank you, Bedwyr,” he said, trading him bow for reins.
“My lord,” interjected Paulus as Cador mounted, “as you know, three days ago you laid a strict injunction on your foster son not to gamble on the Sabbath, in accordance with Our Saviour’s commandments. You see that he has here disregarded your command in the most flagrant and reprehensible manner. And there in his hand he bears the money bag, the thirty pieces of silver that condemns him of misdeeds.”
“Now look here-” began another man angrily, taking a menacing step towards the priest.
“Lot!” said Cador, bringing his horse to stand between the two men. He bent down and handed his friend the bag. “Keep this safe for me. I’ll see you for dinner,” he smirked.
This done, the three riders set off towards the forest, leaving the priest with a very self satisfied look on his face. He turned his gaze on Cador’s remaining friends, who all gave discontented looks to each other. Lot, whose ire had been raised, stepped up close to Paulus. “If evil comes of this,” he said, grimly, “rest assured but that it will go ill for you as well. And not all your influence with the king will save your life.”
Paulus, greatly intimidated, stumbled away and began walking back up to the town. The rest of them mounted their horses and set off for their homes.
Well, there we go. Let's see if that is long enough for y'all this time. Sorry about the very short first post of this. I've only just got all the research done. Believe me, it has been tough to find all those authentic and often very tiny details. Hopefully, the work pays off and you like it.
