by Jack Whyte
Lagan interjected at this point to explain that the reason for the lack of leaders was not hard to find, since Lot had routinely cut down and isolated any and every leader among his own Cornish people whom he had seen as a potential threat to his own rule.
He had a few able leaders in his camp, nonetheless, Herliss pointed out, and he named Cerdic and Tewdric, the two Germanic leaders with whom Uther had come face to face the day of the great storm, along with a pair of others called Issa and Loholt, who preferred to fight alone, commanding their own armies and beholden to no one other than their nominal commander, Gulrhys Lot. Apart from those four, there was no one else, unless one wished to include two Cornish generals called Cuneglas and Ralla, who were sufficiently useless to have avoided the King's jealousy and sufficiently spineless for him to believe that he could still rely upon their loyalty. Lot had no other able generals, and that was a truth that cried out to be exploited, because the jealousy among the six tied Lot's hands most of the time. All of them saw themselves as supreme commanders, and none was willing to be seen as subservient to any other.
Uther was frowning as he listened to that. How, he asked, did that benefit him or any of them in any practical way? Herliss's response was flat and brusque.
"Lot is planning to invade your territories early in the spring by sea and by land at the same time, in the hope of catching you before you can strike south and keeping you tied down where you are. The sea invasion will hit your lands in Cambria, and it will hit hard, beginning at Carmarthen, where there are beaches for landing men and wharves for landing supplies and provisions. From Carmarthen they'll strike eastward, following the main Roman road along the coast towards Caerdyff. They intend to use the road itself as a base line and to use the existing ruins of the old Roman marching forts, consolidating their advances as they go and then launching co-ordinated raids unto your northern territories as they progress eastward. This will be a large army . . . probably the biggest invading force ever to hit your shores. The generals Cerdic and Tewdric, the two co-operators, will lead that host and hold responsibility for Cambria."
Uther made no response to this. It was evident to him that he was listening to truth and he knew it would have been pointless to interrupt. Instead, he listened, absorbing every nuance of what Herliss was saying.
The old man paused, obviously considering the words he would say next. "About Lot's mercenary Outlanders . . . the countryside is crawling with the foreign filth, as you saw last night on your way in. They are everywhere, and no one's life is safe, since Lot believes no one in his beloved Cornwall really loves him, although I can't imagine where he would find grounds for believing that. . .
"The thing is, they believe they are invincible, these Outlanders, because they have never been challenged in Cornwall." He stopped and reconsidered that. "Well, they have been challenged by your people on several occasions, but never in real strength, and they have never been really thrashed . . . If you are interested, I could provide you with an opportunity to thrash them within the next few days."
Uther frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means I'm offering you the opportunity to destroy an army immediately, at little risk to yourself. A large contingent of mercenaries, almost a thousand strong, will be leaving the far northwest to come down this way in three days' time, four at the very latest. Nominally, they will be under the command of Cuneglas, which means they'll be under no control at all and therefore easy to deal with. Their line of march will bring them very close to where your raiding force sits now, and it transpires that the place where you could meet them is perfectly fashioned for an entrapment using those long, lethal bows of yours. It's a killing ground. Interested?"
"Of course, but you want me to burn down your fort here within the next few days . . . I can't do both."
"No matter." The old man smiled. "I'll burn it myself and lay the blame on you. As long as you are interested, we will talk later, and by the time you leave tomorrow you'll know everything there is to know about the Outlanders. the route they'll take and the place where you can set your trap." Herliss paused then, frowning, and asked the next question in his mind. "What of your Cousin Merlyn? How is he?"
Uther fought to keep his face expressionless and his voice casual. "Merlyn? He is well enough. He was badly wounded last summer, and it left him incapacitated for long months, but he improves daily now and will be himself come the new year. Why do you ask?"
"Because that's not what Lot's spies have been telling him. They have brought word that Merlyn of Camulod has lost his mind . . . that he was struck down last year by a metal ball swung on a chain and has not been right in the head since then. They say his skull was broken and his memory dashed from his mind so that now he does not even know his own name. They say he'll never lead the armies of Camulod again, and that in fact he never leaves the fortress nowadays . . . and they say he cannot even remember the name of his own wife. How much of that is true, Uther?"
Uther sat straighter, looking from Herliss to Lagan and finally to Ygraine. Then he nodded his head, once, acknowledging the truth. "All of it," he said. "It's all true. But it is not as bad as it sounds. He could regain his memory at any time, and there's nothing wrong with him physically. He's as strong and as skilled as he ever was."
"Aye, but he is not himself, is that not so? And so who has taken his place as Commander of Camulod?"
"No one . . . or no one in particular. We have several excellent senior officers, any one of whom is capable of commanding all our forces at any time."
"Good. Are any of them as good as Merlyn was?"
Uther hesitated, unwilling to lie and mentally reviewing the list of candidates for the supreme leadership in Merlyn's place. Before he could respond, Herliss was speaking again.
"Aye . . . that's what I thought. Well, they're going to have to be, because those other two whoresons, Issa and Loholt, have convinced Lot to allow them to carry out a two-pronged attack on Camulod. from the south and the east. Now understand me clearly here. I'm not talking about a two-pronged attack by a split force, I am talking about two separate attack campaigns by two separate armies. Issa and Loholt are as jealous of each other as a pair of spitting whores, and each of them knows that the first army to enter Camulod will have not just the pick of the booty but all of it, so the competition to sack Camulod is going to be fierce. The only compromise those two have made to each other at this stage is to agree to spin a coin in order to decide which of them will have the southern attack and which the east. The southern route to Camulod is shorter, but the other army will leave a week ahead of the southern attackers. We'll see what happens."
"What happens if the earlier army steals the southern route? What then?"
"What then indeed? I wouldn't be surprised to see that happen, particularly if Issa wins the toss. There's not much to choose between those two, but I think I might take Loholt's word before I'd trust Issa's. Anyway, that is enough from me on that topic. You must have some questions."
Uther rose from his chair and began pacing the floor. "Aye, a hundred of them. You said you had a plan of some description, but all you've done is tell me that I won't be here at all next year, because I'll be too busy staving off catastrophe in Cambria and Camulod. I must be missing something."
"You're missing nothing except, as you said, the connections. You know now that these invasions are planned, and you know where they'll be coming from, particularly in your own lands in Cambria, so you have the entire winter to prepare some surprises for the invaders. Will that be long enough for you? Can you be ready in time, think you?"
"To defeat them in Cambria, aye. The terrain there is mine, and the advantage will be mine, but—" An image Hashed into Uther's mind of Camulod and the huge, barren drilling plain that lay at the foot of its hill. He saw Herliss's expression sharpen as the old man noticed the expression on his face, and then he nodded. "Aye," he grunted, "and in Camulod, too, now that I think of it. I have an idea that might work well . . . and
as you say, we have six months at least, perhaps seven, in which to make ready. We'll be prepared to welcome them with more than milk and honey when they come . . . So what are the connections that I'm missing?"
"Numbers, Uther. We spoke of four of Lot's good generals going into your lands. He has six, you may remember."
"Four good ones and two others, the two incompetents you mentioned earlier. . . Ralla, and I forget the name of the other one."
"Cuneglas. Neither of them is fit to be allowed to go to the latrine alone, but they will remain behind in Cornwall to organize the remaining holding army. Theirs will be the honour of keeping Cornwall safe for Gulrhys Lot."
"And?"
"And by the time you have drawn first blood from those invading you, and they begin to learn that all might not be quite as simple as they had foreseen, we—myself and my son here, with the able help of the decent men left in this country—will have taken control of the forces of Cornwall . . . the real forces of Cornwall. Most of the mercenaries will be in Cambria and Camulod, because none of them will want to stay behind when there's booty and plunder to be had. The forces that remain behind will be Cornish, with perhaps a strengthening core of Outlanders. We'll soon be rid of those, and of Ralla and Cuneglas. And if, with the blessings of the gods. Lot has remained in Cornwall, we'll rid ourselves of him at the same time, and most of our troubles will be over. I doubt, though, that our noble King will run the risk of staying here at home when all his mercenary allies are away. That might be too much to hope for.
"Then, my friend . . . then everything will depend on you, because if you do your part properly and break your attackers' teeth in the first charge, you should be able to have your forces ready to combine as soon as you've thrown back the invaders—in both places, Cambria and Camulod. If you've hit them hard enough, if you've taken enough advantage of your advance warning, you should have taken the wind out of their sails to a great extent, and when you finally send them limping home, they'll find their strongholds there are held by a determined enemy. You must follow hard on their heels then, harassing them with the biggest army you can muster. With us holding Lot's forts and denying them entry, and you and your cavalry and those wild bowmen of yours hacking and shooting at their backs, we should be able to smash them finally, and get rid of Gulrhys Lot. What say you?"
"What say I? I say I'd be a fool to say anything before thinking all of this through. Where does your information come from?"
Herliss shrugged slightly and shifted in his seat, opening one hand, palm upward, and then gesturing towards the Queen. Uther sat blinking, not having expected that, and Ygraine turned her eyes to meet his gaze directly, the slightest tinge of colour beginning to stain her cheeks.
Finally, after what seemed to him like an unconscionably long time, he was able to clear his throat and speak to her. "I, ah . . . Ph'hmmm . . . Are you so far. . .?" He stopped short, feeling a great, threatening panic begin to well up deep inside him, and then he charged ahead, blurting out what was in his mind. "Are you then so far restored into your husband's favour, lady, that you enjoy his confidence again?"
Ygraine stared back at him without expression, her face filled with utter calm. "No, Sir King, not again. I never knew his confidence in times past. I have come to know it now since my return from your captivity. I do not enjoy it. But was that not the reason for my return in the first place?"
"What?" Uther caught himself frowning and knew he was treading upon dangerous ground, although he would have been hard put to say why that should be so. He coughed again, desperately trying to gain time, then decided openness might be the best policy here. "Your pardon. Lady Ygraine, but I fail to understand you. Was what not the reason for your return in the first place?"
"My husband's confidence. Did I not return in order that I might make myself privy to his secrets, and did not that entail that I must work to gain his confidence? For if it did not, sir, then I have sorely misunderstood my reasons for being here these past few months and I will not be happy, knowing that I need not have been here."
"Yes, lady, yes! I ask your pardon, I misunderstood . . . but—"
"But—what, sir?"
"I—" He raised a hand in surrender, shaking his head ruefully. "Now I really do ask that you pardon me, my lady, for only now have I begun to see what we have asked of you since your return to Cornwall. My own stupidity in failing to see the truth of it appalls me now and I—"
"King Uther!" Ygraine's voice, crackling like heaving ice, cut him short. "I knew what was involved from the beginning, and I did not think it worthy of mention then . . . I find it even less worthy now."
Uther fell into an abashed silence, chastened as he had seldom been, and for a space of moments no one spoke. But then, surprisingly Herliss heaved himself to his feet and gestured with his head for his son to join him.
"Come, you," he growled, "we need to talk, we two."
Uther sat gaping as the two Cornish warriors left the hall, and then he turned to the Queen, surprised to find her smiling at him. He knew his mouth was hanging open, but he could only wave one pointing finger towards the far door through which Herliss and Lagan had vanished.
"He knows? Herliss knows?"
"About you and me?" Ygraine's smile grew wider. "I think not, but I cannot be sure. Herliss is no fool, and he is older than you and I combined, so he outstrips us in experience. Besides, he knows I have no love for Lot, despite the matter of sharing his bed. Herliss is highly aware of my pretences there."
"But he . . . approves."
"No, he does not approve, Uther. He resents the need for it. Herliss is a noble and honourable man, and it angers him deeply that I should be forced to stoop to such measures. But he is unable to do anything other than accept the need for what I do, as do I myself. If what I endure leads to a quick end to Lot's rule in Cornwall and to all the evil that walks hand in hand with him, then I will do all that I can and more."
"May I ask you a question that might anger you?"
"Yes."
"Do you wish Lot dead?"
Ygraine sucked in her cheeks, tilting her head slightly to one side as she considered her response. "No," she said eventually, drawing the word out to far beyond its normal length, "I have no wish to see him dead. I believe he will die before all this is over, because he will cling tooth and nail lo everything we seek to take from him, but I have no personal wish to deprive him of his life. My wish is to remove him from the King's place he abuses, to strip him of his power and wealth; without the one he will forfeit the other. I want to see Cornwall emptied of foreign mercenaries and ruled by men who understand honour and justice, so that its people can sleep quiet and safe in their beds night after night until they forget that there was a time when they could not. That is what I want and what I wish, and it involves removing Lot, deposing him. After that, I care not what he does or where he goes.
"He can be charming when it suits him." Her voice dripped with bitterness and quiet anger. "When Gulrhys Lot wishes to be pleasant, he is unmatchable . . . and he has been that way with me since my return. Invariably. Since the day I arrived back, he has been unfailingly gracious, concerned and attentive to my every need, even admitting me nightly to his bed as though I were his beloved wife and the crowning pride of his life . . .
"I discovered the reason for that change soon after my arrival. My brother Connor had come to visit Lot, asking after me, while I was your prisoner . . . shortly before I came back here, in fact. Lot has no wish to offend Connor, or my other brother, Brander." She was smiling very slightly as she said this. "My father's people live upon the seacoast, in large part. They are boat-builders, renowned throughout all Eire for the quality of their galleys. My father commands galleys—fleets of galleys. My brothers, Connor and Brander, are his admirals. Lot prides himself on being a commander of pirates, but he knows my brothers could sweep the sea clean of every craft he owns if he offended them.
"Before I returned from my captivity, my adventure with you, Conno
r came seeking me at Rosnant. I was not there, of course, but I know that what frightened Lot—and it really frightened him, for some reason—was the fact that he could not tell Connor where I was. He could not even lie about it, lest Connor insist on travelling to find me. I have no idea what was said between the two of them, but I know it must have made a deep impression upon Lot, for since the moment I appeared again, he has been lavishing me with attention, catering to my every wish and generally trying to be the most adoring and attentive of husbands."
"So you are sleeping with him . . ."
"Aye, I am." Her head came up high, her eyes flashing. "And even rutting with him, but not often . . . I told him I would kill him as he slept if he ever dared use me again the way he did when we two first were wed."
"What?" Uther sat straighten "What did he do?"
"Nothing that you need know about, and he would never dare try it again. But here is something you should know about. I went into his bed without protest when I returned because I thought I might be with child by you. I was not. but I thought I might have been."
"But it was but two nights!"
"One time is enough, Uther Pendragon, if it is the destined time. Surely you are old enough to know the truth of that?"
"And . . ." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Were you . . . would you have been unhappy to find yourself with child?"
"I don't know, because I never really had to dwell upon the thought. My courses came in their due time and life went on. But in the meantime, Lot had been close enough to me to guarantee that if my belly did begin to swell, he could call himself the sire, and that suited me well. Little point in dying for something so fleeting as the time we two had together, don't you think?"