by Jay Allan
"Igraine," he said several times in a hushed voice. "Do not be scared...it is Uther Pendragon."
His hand was pressed against the fabric of the tent, and finally he heard movement from the other side. He felt someone pressing against his hand from the other side.
"Lord Uther." He recognized the voice at once as Igraine's. "It is late, my lord."
Uther pressed his lips against the tent. "Indeed it is. I would speak with you if you are willing. Can you leave the camp without anyone noticing?"
"Yes, I think so.” She was whispering softly. "Stay where you are and I will come to you as quickly as I may."
Uther heard her move inside the tent for a time, and then there was silence. He stood there for perhaps fifteen minutes, listening to his heart thump as it had only ever done in battle. Finally, he heard soft footsteps approaching, and then Igraine stood before him. She was clad in a pale green dress woven from the finest material and decorated with delicate lace. Her hair was pulled tight, with an intricate braid running down her back. Earrings of gold and silver dangled from her lobes, and she wore a necklace of precious stones. Her fingers were adorned with rings, including one set with a magnificent blue sapphire. Uther took note and smiled, for surely she had not been resting in her tent so attired.
She bowed gracefully. "Good evening, my lord."
"I beg you, call me Uther, and I shall call you Igraine."
She flushed slightly, but answered quickly. "So I shall, Uther. Pray tell, what brings you out so late while all others sleep?"
She is bold, Uther thought with satisfaction. So different from the other women he knew, and so enthralling. What is it about her that so draws me in? "You do, my lady, for since we spoke earlier, you have been much on my mind, and I had to see you again." Too forward, he thought, you will scare her.
But she only smiled. "Indeed? I am most gratified that you feel so. Shall we walk? We could speak more at ease rather than whisper."
"I would be delighted," he replied. She began walking slowly, and he fell in beside her.
"I love the night." She looked up at the stars and the moon just rising, nearly full, above the silhouette of the castle. "It is so peaceful. Quiet, yet there is much to hear if you listen."
"Never have I thought about it before.” Uther looked up at the sky as he spoke. “But it is indeed so."
She shivered slightly. "There is a chill in the air, for spring is still tentative, playing coyly with us."
Uther removed his cloak and placed it gently over her shoulders. "Until spring commits, we shall have to make our own way."
"Thank you my lor...I mean Uther. You are very kind. Though I venture that I see a side of you that not many have. I am grateful you have shown it to me."
Uther stopped walking and looked at her. "And I have never met anyone like you, Igraine. You are different...special. Intelligent, indeed, and gracious and kind."
"You make me blush.” She smiled, looking back at him. She started walking again, and Uther kept pace. "I have known of you as a hero for years now, but never did I imagine what you were actually like. You are not what I expected."
They walked long and spoke of many things. This is not proper, Uther thought more than once, for me to be alone with her at night. But he didn't care, for this was where he wished to be. Never one for doing a thing merely because he was told or expected to do so, he would not start now.
Finally, he realized with a start that the early dawn light was rising, chasing away the curtain of night. "Quickly...I must get you back to your tent before anyone awakes and finds you gone."
When they reached the edge of the camp, Uther peered carefully around and, seeing no one, he bade Igraine go back to her tent, lest she be caught.
"I shall return tomorrow night.” He spoke softly to her, great kindness in his voice. “I promise. Forget me not before then." And with that he was gone, racing up the road to the castle as the morning sun cast its first tentative rays over the town.
Return he did, the next night and every other of the council, and each time they walked and spoke until dawn, parting in the morning with greater longing and sadness. On the dawn of the day she was set to depart with her father and his entourage, she took Uther's hand and dropped something into it, closing his fist over the bauble. She stretched herself upon her toes, for he was much taller than she, and kissed him softly on the lips, before she giggled to herself and disappeared around the side of the tent.
Uther opened his hand and looked at his palm. In it was a beautiful silver ring with a perfect blue sapphire in the center.
Just after dawn Uther awaited his father, for he was determined to speak with him about Igraine. He sat in one of the lesser halls, where Constantine typically spent his days meeting with counselors and reviewing the business of the kingdom. Now, of course, he was preparing for war, and his days had become longer, for there was not time enough to attend to all that needed to be done.
Indeed, the king's day was beginning early, for Uther had been sitting no more than ten minutes when he heard footsteps approaching. "Ah, Uther, my son." Constantine spoke as he walked through the door, his voice loud, but hoarse from days of arguing at the council. "Glad I am you are here, for I would speak with you."
God, he has become old and frail, Uther thought sadly, as he watched his father enter the room. The old man, once so strong and energetic, now limped to his seat as if each step were a misery. "I would speak with you as well, father."
"I have a task for you, my son, and I bid you do as I ask and not fight me. You and I have had many clashes, and though often I have wished for you to be more obedient, I have come to be proud that my son is a man of resolve. I would take back much of what has been said between us."
Uther opened his mouth to speak, but Constantine raised his hand. "Nay, my son, let me continue. For I would send you on a journey now, though I know you will not wish to go with war brewing. Yet I bid that you obey me in this, and that it not be a test of wills between us." He paused and looked into his son's steel-gray Pendragon eyes. "Uther, I ask you for your aid on this. I need your help."
Uther was taken aback, for never had his father spoken thusly to him. It was strange, for he felt both strength and weakness in Constantine, as if great resolve was gathered to overcome crushing fatigue. Though he wanted to talk about Igraine, Uther could do naught but listen to his father's words. "What would you have me do, father?"
"The council has ended." Constantine’s voice cracked as he spoke, and he paused to clear his throat. "Much have we achieved, though great efforts remain before us. Yet, the kings have made one demand...that I send an emissary to seek aid from the empire. I know not if this be a fool's errand or no, but I must honor the request. Indeed, I too have wondered if the emperor would aid us, if the legions would return to Britannia and aid us in driving back the invader. I must send a delegation of high rank, for an emissary of lesser men would be an insult to the emperor. Of all my sons, Uther, you have no wife to leave behind while you embark on such a long journey."
Uther winced at his father's mention of a wife, thinking again of Igraine, though Constantine did not notice, and he continued his entreaty. "Also, of all my sons, indeed of all my nobles, you are the greatest warrior, and I shall fear less for you on a long and perilous journey. Go to Rome, Uther, and bring the emperor our entreaties that he aid us, as Flavius Aetius promised me so many years ago. Bring me back your report on the state of the empire, for we have had no word in many long years. I would that you do this just for me, for I would know myself if there is any hope of the legions returning. But I need you to do it for the council as well, for if we find there is no help from abroad, at least they will know for certain that we stand or fall on our own actions."
Uther sat silently for a moment, surprised by what his father had asked of him. Were it not for the prospect of war and his feelings for Igraine, he would long for such a journey, for he sought adventure, and never before had his father entrusted him with an
important task such as this.
"Very well, father." Uther knew he could not refuse. "I shall do as you ask of me. I shall go to Rome, and if there are allies there, I shall find them."
"Excellent." Constantine looked proudly upon his youngest son. "You have my full confidence, Uther. And you shall see many things, wonders that your brothers never shall. You will be forever changed by this journey, my son. I know, for I have been where you now go.”
Constantine leaned over and put his hand on Uther’s shoulder. "I have spoken with King Ogyruan, and Leodegrance will join you on your journey. I wanted you to have a trusted friend at your back. And Leodegrance will be a better king for what he experiences on these travels."
Constantine rose from his seat, the effort clearly painful. Uther got up also, and the two men embraced warmly. Uther had not mentioned Igraine to his father, for he thought to wait until he returned. He did not want her to mourn him if he was fated not to return from his great journey, though little did he understand her feelings if he thought he could save her from grief if he fell. He resolved to ride to her father's stronghold and speak with her before he left, but he found himself compelled to depart almost at once and lost the chance. Less than a fortnight after his father bade him go, Uther was on the southern coast boarding ship for Gaul. Igraine would have to wait until he returned.
Merlin stood on a bluff and watched Uther's ship sail away. He spoke softly to himself. "There sails one of your servants, the new God, and he is faithful to thee. I feel that he shall be a mighty force in what is to happen, though I cannot divine what role he is to play. He will suffer terrible torment, I fear, and win great glory and power. I speak now to thee, oh God of the Christians, I who am a relic of the old deities, whose power was in root and branch and raging rapid from the dawn of time. Into his hands, and those of his line, I shall place what remains of that power, that new and old may be as one to heal the wounds of this ravaged and bleeding land."
Chapter Two
The Great Journey
495 AD
The Narrow Sea
Uther Pendragon was strong and powerful, and despite his young age he'd slain many a foe in battle and never met an adversary he couldn't best. Until now. For the Narrow Sea was like no enemy Uther had ever encountered, and against its assault he lay prostrate, leaning over the wale of the ship in such distress as he had never known.
Leodegrance at first made playful fun of his friend, such a valiant hero reduced to infirmity. But so great was Uther's agony that his companion soon ceased his amusement and tried to sooth him any way he could. Leodegrance had spent many days on the fishing boats along Cameliard's coast, and he was not overly distressed by the sea's fury, rough though this crossing had been.
Uther's torment was prolonged by the need to sail south as well as east, for northern Gaul was said to be overrun by the Franks and, as such, too perilous a route for their small band. To the south the Visigothic king held large sections of Gaul and Hispania as Legatus of the emperor. Uther's father had fought the Huns alongside Theodoric the Visigoth, under Flavius Aetius. In the aftermath of battle, he had attended the great Gothic king as he lay mortally wounded on the field of Chalons. Likely they would receive welcome or at least succor in the court of the Visigoths, where Theodoric’s son, Euric, ruled.
They would travel by sea to Aquitania, then across southern Gaul and through the mountain passes into Italia. Uther would have sooner fought through the guardians of Hell than stay onboard another moment, but he knew his duty, and he endured.
Through the intense discomfort he found himself thinking time and again about Igraine. He could see her coppery red hair as it lay about her shoulders, beautiful in the sunlight. Her eyes, her lips, the sweet sound of her voice. He couldn't banish her from his thoughts for more than a few moments. Longtime companion that he was, Leodegrance could see his friend's distraction. Never had he witnessed Uther show any interest in a woman that outlasted a night's passion, yet this one clearly held him in her spell. Why not, he thought, for surely Uther would one day take a wife. Why not Igraine? She was of high birth and the daughter one of his father's greatest barons.
"Ah, my afflicted friend, your body still fights the sea, but I fear your mind is not here. It is, I suspect, with a certain red-haired lady. Do I err?"
Uther's gaze shifted to his friend, his face ashen, looking as though even this bit of movement stirred his insides. "I cannot forget her, Leo.” His voice was wavering, weak. "When we return, I shall make her mine."
"You are the son of a royal house, my friend, and you must marry. I have been betrothed since we played at battle with sticks, you and I. Igraine is the daughter of one of your father's greatest lords. It is a strong match."
"My father still hopes to see me in a priest's robes, my friend, and I fear he is as stubborn as I. But Igraine shall be mine and, if needs be, I will disobey my father to make it so."
Leodegrance paused, considering the implications of such an act, but decided that counsels of patience and caution were best saved for another day. Hundreds of miles, and a long and dangerous journey lay between Uther and any fateful acts of rebellion. "Doubtless such will not be needed. I am sure your father will be pleased to see you married and settled."
"We shall see." Uther spoke then quickly thrust his head over the side and wretched, his whole body convulsing. "Gods," he rasped, "what could be left in me to come out?"
Thus went the journey across the Narrow Sea and down the Gallic coast, and it was days more before, at long last, Uther set desperate eyes upon the sandy shores of Aquitania. The ship made for a long stretch of open beach, and Uther was the first man ashore. Out of the surf he stumbled and onto the soft sand, where he collapsed and lay motionless in the sun.
Leodegrance laughed loudly. "Ah, my friend, I fear you have missed the solid ground under you far too much."
"Leo, it has been days since I strode upon a surface that does not move. The sea, I fear is for others. My battles shall be on land, I trust, or I shall surely meet my doom."
They both laughed, and Leodegrance went to supervise the landing of their party, allowing Uther to rest. They had brought with them ten warriors as escort, along with a considerable supply train - food, tents, gold, gifts for the lords they would meet, plus horses and mules - and servants to manage it all.
It took several hours to get everything unloaded, by which time Uther looked considerably less pale and sick. He even took one of the wineskins and drank deeply. On ship it had been a task to get him to take a few sips, but now, suddenly aware of his raging thirst, he took it and almost drained it.
"You look better, Uther, my friend.” Leodegrance smiled broadly as he spoke. "And we have plenty of wine, so drink your fill."
Uther handed over the almost-empty skin. "I have done so already, for I didn't realize how thirsty I was until I started to drink."
Leodegrance looked up at the sun, hazy red and soon to set. "I know you are exhausted from the voyage, but I think we should march inland before making camp. We may attract pirates if we camp to close to the coast and, while I run from no fight, our task is to reach the Emperor, not battle with barbarians and thieves."
Uther had a fragile smile on his face. "I am quite ready for anything." He paused, still looking a bit unsteady. "Or at least ready to ride my horse a few leagues."
They mounted, but rode slowly, for the servants leading the mules went on foot. They traveled from the beach and followed a sandy path winding slowly uphill. After an hour they found themselves along the top of a hillside, and they paused to look back over the sea. The sun was deep orange now, and low on the horizon, the reddish light rippling off the gentle waves. With a last lingering look, Uther turned and rode on over the crest of the hill, gratefully leaving the sea behind.
Another hour they rode, to the outskirts of a forest of tall, sparse pines. Near a small stream they ended their day's journey, and they set up the camp by torchlight. Soon they had a cluster of canvas tents pit
ched around a roaring fire, and the servants set to preparing the evening meal.
They supped on simple fare. Leodegrance ate a whole chicken, roasted in the fire, with loaves of bread with butter. Uther was more cautious, for though he felt better, he was still a bit uneasy where food was concerned. A loaf of bread he ate, and another wineskin he drained. They had brought apples from the autumn's first picking; they were small and hard, but good nonetheless. Uther was very fond of apples, and he finished with several, pronouncing them not quite ripe, but satisfying nonetheless.
With the meal over, Uther took his leave and retired to his tent, for his ordeal at sea had left him fatigued to the bone. He stripped off his belt and boots, and threw himself upon the pile of skins that would serve as his bed during the journey. He was soon in a deep sleep, disturbed only by a dream of Igraine. She was standing on a tower looking out at the countryside, tears in her eyes and her hair blowing in the wind. He awoke long after sunrise, and he found that a night on solid ground had done much to restore his constitution. He was troubled by his dream, but most of all he was hungry. Ravenous, as he could never remember being.
The smell of the cook fire drew him out of the tent, and he found the camp bustling with activity. Most of the tents were struck, and the cooking was well underway. Uther found a wineskin that had been hung outside his tent, and he drank deeply.
"At last." It was Leodegrance's voice, loud and cheerful. "I feared I'd have to leave you behind and go on myself."
Uther stretched slowly. "I had quite forgotten what it is like to sleep on solid ground. I shall, in future, remember to be thankful for that which I have always taken for granted."
"Indeed, my friend, you do seem to look quite like your old self. Come, let us break the fast together."