by Jay Allan
"Good, good," said Odoacer. "And now, if I may, I would ask that you do a service for me, for I would be merciful, but I fear I need your help to do so. Augustulus is but a boy, forced into the purple by his father, who wished to rule through his son. I would spare his life, but such a course is fraught with risk, for alive he may inspire resistance and rebellion by his father's allies. I would have you take him to Britannia, and swear your oaths that he shall never leave your island. Do this, and I will grant him mercy and give him to your care."
Uther and Leodegrance shared a quick look, each nodding assent to the other. "We shall grant your request, Lord Odoacer, for I see the wisdom and mercy in it. This child emperor shall travel with us to Britannia, and I shall pledge that he will remain and never again set foot in Italia."
Thus agreed they finished their meal, discussing less weighty matters as they did. When they were done, Uther and Leodegrance returned to their camp to prepare, for on the morrow they would depart with the army and march to Ravenna.
The march to Ravenna was uneventful, and there was no opposition to Odoacer. For seven days they journeyed, and as they neared the capital the fertile farmlands and vineyards gave way to marshes and bogs. The army was greatly slowed by the terrain, and Odoacer decided to ride ahead with a small force. He invited Uther and Leodegrance to join him, and so with a group of 200 horsemen, Uther Pendragon rode to witness the deposition of the last Roman emperor in the west.
Ravenna was another marvel to Uther, like Toulouse, a vast city unlike anything else he had ever seen. The emperors had lived mostly in Ravenna for nigh on seventy years, and the city displayed the opulence of its imperial station. Ravenna opened its gates at Odoacer's command, for as swiftly as he had journeyed here, news of what had transpired traveled faster.
Through the broad main streets they rode, all the way to the imperial palace. Odoacer's men burst through the massive gilded doors, but they met no resistance, for all the guards had fled. They led the emperor out into the square before the palace in front of Odoacer who, mounted upon his horse, stared down intently at his imperial captive.
The emperor was but a boy who had seen no more than twelve summers, and though he expected nothing but certain death, he stood proudly before Odoacer. The warriors who had dragged him out waited, for they too expected the command to slay the boy.
But Odoacer did not give that command. Instead, he looked upon the emperor silently for a moment and then spoke, his voice imperial. "Your father, Orestes, is dead. Romulus Augustus, as you call yourself, hear my words. You have usurped the throne, and you have no right by succession or victory in battle or ordination by God to rightfully claim the purple."
Romulus did not answer, but stood straight and did not back away. His legs, perhaps, wobbled somewhat, for he was terrified. But he drew the strength from within himself to stand fast and face his death with pride and dignity.
Odoacer continued, "Yet, I perceive more the fault of the father in this than the son, for I do not hold you to account for the deeds of Orestes, the traitor. A son's obedience to his father I will not punish if I need not. I do not seek your life, boy, and if you accept my terms willingly I shall grant it back to you.” Romulus looked up with surprise on his face, for the first time betraying emotion, though still he said nothing.
"First," said Odoacer, "you shall renounce the imperial throne and all claim to it, now and forever. You shall surrender the diadem and all tokens of the office. Second, you shall depart Italia, never to return."
Odoacer motioned toward Uther. "This is Lord Uther Pendragon of Britannia. Soon he shall return to his homeland, and you will go with him as his ward, for he has agreed to accept this charge. The rest of your life you shall live in Britannia, and you shall make your oath here and now never to return and always to obey Lord Pendragon. If you agree to these terms I will spare your life; if you refuse, it is forfeit." Odoacer paused for a moment, allowing the boy to consider his words. “Decide now.”
The boy-emperor stood for a moment, still silent. He had steeled himself to face death, and now he was offered life, though he must give up all he knew and travel to a faraway land. His legs almost gave way under him, but he found the strength to stand firm. He looked up at Odoacer and spoke with as much dignity as he could muster. "I accept your terms."
The emperor was escorted to his rooms, for Odoacer ordered that he not be dislocated until it was time to depart. He was kept under guard but made comfortable, and no harm was done to him. The imperial diadem and the other emblems of empire were carefully packed into a great chest. True to his word, Odoacer sent these on a ship, with many guards, to Constantinople. Henceforth there would be a single emperor, and Odoacer would rule Italia as legatus and king.
In the weeks after the deposition, Uther and Leodegrance spent much time speaking with Odoacer, for though he was by birth a barbarian, they found him to be lordly and wise, and a friendship of sorts grew between them. Alas, there would be little time for this brotherhood, for one morning Odoacer called his guests to break the fast with him and to speak of things. Odoacer was leaving for Rome on the morrow to receive the acclamation of the senate and their recognition of his kingship.
"I would have you join me, my friends, but alas I fear you will find yourselves compelled to decline. For even this morning when I awoke shortly before dawn, I felt the chill of autumn in the still morning air. If you ride with me to Rome, you will find yourselves unable to begin your return journey until spring. For I fear you would already find the mountain passes closed by the time you could reach them. Thus, if you would depart this year I will make ships available to you at Vada Sabatia to sail you to Euric's lands. From there you can make your way back to Britannia. But you must depart soon, or you will find the sea closed to you as well. The Vandal pirates are like to take advantage of the disruptions in Italia ere long."
Uther was silent, for he longed greatly to see the legendary city of Rome. But already when they had departed Caer Guricon the clouds of war were gathering, and he thought of Odoacer's earlier words. Britannia must be united, lest a dark age befall the people. Though his heart longed to ride to Rome with Odoacer, he knew he must return home. He had been gone too long already. He looked over at Leodegrance, and he could tell his friend thought as he did. For their personal longings were of little import; only their duty mattered.
"King Odoacer, though I long to see Rome, your counsel is again wise. Duty and honor call us home, I am afraid. War I am sure has come, and we should have returned long ago. With your leave, we too will depart on the morrow and gratefully accept your offer of a ship to take us to Gaul, for anything that speeds our way is welcome."
So it was that Uther Pendragon and Leodegrance said their farewells to Odoacer, now king of Italia, and rode west to the far coast, and there took ship for Gaul. With them they took many gifts, for Odoacer had been generous and had laden them with many treasures.
West of Toulouse their ship took them, for they wished to reach the coast and set sail for Britannia before the full fury of winter was upon them. They were grieved, though, that they would not see Euric again, for the king had been kind to them. The sea would never be friend to Uther, but his distress was greatly lessened from the first voyage, and he was in good spirits. Returning home for him was also returning to Igraine.
The deposed emperor, Augustus, was quiet during the voyage. In truth, he missed the diadem little, for he never truly ruled and was only his father's figurehead. Yet he was but a boy, torn from family and country, and on his way to an unknown land.
One day just before the ship reached shore, Uther took the boy aside and spoke with him. "King Odoacer bade me to take you as my ward and see to your needs, and I shall abide by this oath. I see in your eyes great sadness, and from this I shall give you a new name, for you can no longer be Augustus. Henceforth you shall be known as Tristan, which in the native tongue of my land means sadness. This, so that you will never forget what you have lost, for it will always be i
nside you. Yet I pray that you find a place with us, and discover your way to joy and contentment."
But even as he said it, Uther did not believe that such would be Tristan's fate. There was a sad destiny to this boy, and Uther could feel it, that his life would be hard and his end tragic. After they spoke Uther sat alone and pondered his feeling. Finally, he whispered softly to himself. "Uther, you sound like Merlin with all this talk of destiny. The boy will write his own fate." But he did not believe it, for the feeling was still there.
When they reached the shore, Caradoc led them to Thudis' villa, for they had landed not more than two day's journey from there, and they wished to bid farewell to the Visigoth noble who had been a good friend to them.
"We shall deliver you to your father's door, Caradoc.” Uther’s voice was sad, wistful. They had come to think of Caradoc as one of their own, and the parting would be bitter. "I shall indeed miss you, my friend."
"Nay, Lord Uther, I wish not to remain here. Rather, I bid you allow me to accompany you to Britannia, for there is naught for me in Gaul but for my father to find some position of little import. My elder brothers shall manage our family's holdings, and I would not be an appendage, for my heart craves more. My blade shall find use in your service, I believe, for you have many battles to fight."
Surprised, Uther thought for a moment before speaking. "My friend, you are surely welcome in Britannia, and I should be honored to have your sword in my service. Yet, I could not accept such without your father's blessing, for he has been a friend to us, and good and true."
Caradoc smiled and laughed softly. "Lord Uther, my father will be only too relieved to find a place for his youngest son, for he shall have trouble enough doing so for the elder ones. He has six of us."
And so it was, for though Thudis would sorely miss Caradoc, he knew his son's heart and mind were too great for whatever trivial post he could hope for in the Kingdom of Toulouse. He thanked Uther and said his farewells to his son, with whom he dispatched ten warriors to serve as guard. Leaving the villa they rode west, to a coastal town where Thudis had told them they would be able to hire a ship, and from there they set sail to Britannia. Anxious they were, for they had been gone more than a year, and they longed to return home and see what that time had wrought. Uther ached to join the battle he knew must have begun. And there was Igraine as well, who had never been far from his thoughts.
Chapter Three
The Great Storm
475 AD
Caer Guricon, Capital of the Kingdom of Powys
King Constantine sat at a rough wooden table as his counselors argued boisterously with each other. He was silent, listening to all, but his mind was on other matters. Allies he needed, and more than he now had. For his spies had confirmed Merlin's greatest fears. The Saxon invaders and the northern Picts had both allied with Vortigern, and they would take the field in the spring. Against this rising force there was no hope, not unless added strength be found.
The council had ended just as Constantine had expected, with half-hearted commitments and grudging cooperation. More diplomacy would be needed before the alliance was a reality, but he was confident that all six would join him in the end. Indeed, they had few options, for all he had said about them being crushed one by one was true.
At the far end of the table sat Merlin, impassive and unreadable, as silent as Constantine himself. The counselor, wizard some said, had returned just after dawn. Two weeks he had been gone, for he had departed Caer Guricon the evening the great council ended and had not been seen until that morning.
The rancorous debate between his advisors became too much for Constantine, for his patience was strained and the pain in his body was torturous. Finally he could take no more. "Out! All of you begone, for you wail like women!" They looked at him, suddenly silent, most of them frozen with stunned expressions on their faces. Constantine leapt painfully to his feet and howled again, even louder. "Out, I said. Now! Leave me, or by God I shall send all of you to hell!"
The shocked counselors hurriedly rose and scrambled for the door, knocking over chairs and dropping sheaves of parchment in their haste. Merlin merely sat quietly, though he couldn't suppress a slight grin. "You may be ill, my old friend, but you still rage as well as ever. I fear that you have aged them all a decade this morning."
Constantine's rage abruptly gave way to amusement, for he could not stifle a small laugh at Merlin's remarks. "Indeed, and I fear I shall regret it, for they were bumbling old fools already. Were they ten years older, gone entirely would be their minds." The king fell back hard into his chair. "Lighter is my heart that you have returned, my trusted friend, for I fear I shall have great need of your help."
Merlin rose and walked across the room, stopping before Constantine. From his robe he pulled a large vial filled with a sickly green liquid. "Let my help begin then, with this." He gently placed the glass vessel on the table. "I have journeyed deep into the ancient forests to find the plants I sought."
Constantine took the vial in his hand and looked at it for a few seconds. "What a revolting potion. Does it taste as bad as it looks?" He pulled the cork and took a sniff. "Or as bad as it smells?"
Merlin placed his hand softly on the king's shoulder. "'Twas not your palate I sought to appease, good friend. Take you this potion when you rise and before you retire each day, for it will ease your pains."
"My thanks to you, Merlin, for I shall have such need of what strength I can muster."
Merlin smiled warmly at his old friend. "I promise that you shall once again mount your horse and lead your warriors into battle. Though I fear that you will indeed curse my name when you taste it."
Constantine laughed at Merlin's jest, and a coughing spasm overtook him, though just for a moment. When he recovered he spoke, his voice strained but clear. "You know me well, do you not? Again, my thanks to you. If it banish my weakness I shall relish anything, even your foul-tasting elixir."
"Constantine, know you that this is the limit of my abilities, and though it is enough to give you relief for a time, I have not the power to heal what afflicts you. The time you gain is but borrowed, I am afraid. Indeed, when this potion has exhausted its strength you shall find yourself weaker than before."
The king looked at Merlin with a grim smile. "Worry not, my friend. Well-resolved am I that this will be my last adventure. My time grows short, for unlike you, I have aged with the passing years."
Merlin's eyes seemed for a moment to be gazing dreamily into some unseen visage, though where his mind drifted, Constantine knew not. "I have aged too, my dear friend, for once even Merlin was young and the world seemed a great mystery to unravel. Many trials have I weathered since those days, and bitter struggles have I endured. My time nears its end too. Indeed, I can feel the changes in the world, and I know not what lies ahead. I too awaken each day to weariness where once it was excitement. But this struggle we shall share, good King Constantine, and together we will do what we must to save this troubled land."
Constantine smiled, but it quickly gave way to a frown. "And what we must do now, is to draw Gorlois into our alliance. Without his strength added to ours, I fear we have no chance. Unless Uther brings back aid from the empire there is no other ally to be had. And we both know that Uther's quest is hopeless. We had to try, but I think there is little chance for success."
"I think you are correct, and I too believe we must have Gorlois fighting with us. Indeed, all the more so for he is the one lord to whom I can imagine Vortigern extending an offer. His lands are far south, and Vortigern could offer him handsome conquests and yet still rule most of Britannia. Alliance with Vortigern offers more to Gorlois than we can match, yet it compels him to trust in his new ally after the rest have fallen. And after we are no more, there would be little to stop Vortigern from overrunning the south as well."
Constantine had a sour look on his face. "Gorlois is an untrustworthy, foul-tempered, and course man, but he is no fool. He will not ally with Vortigern, for he k
nows he shall retain what he is given only so long as his new friend needs him. My fear is he will wait too long pressing us for the best terms, for his greed is great, and indeed exceeds his wisdom. We must forge a true alliance with him rather than a hasty arrangement. Long has he sought recognition as king of Cornwall, and that we shall offer him on behalf of all of the monarchs of the alliance."
Merlin nodded. "Indeed, you would use his vanity to ensnare him. For such an offer gives him naught that he does not already possess in every practical manner. He rules Cornwall as a king, he calls himself such, yet he craves that you and the other kings do so as well. Of course, a title will not be enough. He will want lands, gold, some type of reward."
Constantine frowned again. "No doubt he will have further demands, but he has long wanted the recognition. Once it is offered, he will be easier to treat with. And I shall try to bind him to my kingdom beyond a simple treaty."
"A marriage? Indeed, we have spoken of this before." Merlin paused to see if Constantine was going to propose a candidate. When the king remained silent, Merlin took a breath and continued. "I was thinking of Lord Elisedd's daughter, Igraine. For he is one of your highest and most loyal vassals, and his daughter is a suitable choice. An ideal one, in fact, for she is quite beautiful."
Constantine looked up and slapped his hand on the table. "Ah, Igraine. She is beautiful indeed. You think Gorlois will desire her when he sees her, and be thus more pliable. Indeed, perhaps we can add lust to vanity on our list of diplomatic tools."