by Jay Allan
Pestilence raged in the city, and nightly the dead were buried in great pits, hastily covered with a few shovels of dirt. Stories had come to the king of corpses devoured by starving townsfolk and of human bones found sucked dry of marrow. Twice Urien himself had been down with the fever, and the last time it had come close to taking him. But his resolve remained strong. Three times he had refused offers of terms if he would open his gates, and he swore that only marching over his body would the enemy have his capital.
Next to the king, one of his men strained to push over a scaling ladder, and Urien joined him and helped topple the thing, dumping three Picts onto the rock-hard frozen ground below. All along the walls the enemy were breaking and falling back to their camps. A ragged cheer went up among Urien's men. They had held once again.
The king walked slowly down the narrow stone stairs from the battlement, his guards falling in behind him. Well have we done, he thought, yet still I will soon have to abandon the walls and pull the defense back to the keep itself. He knew that when he gave that order he would be consigning the townsfolk to a hellish fate, for he could not take them all into the keep. The Picts were savages in the best situations. What horrors would they inflict on the peasants after almost a year of siege and five thousand of their number slain?
His thoughts were grim as he walked back to the keep, and he ordered the guard on the battlements reduced to the minimum number, for he could not bear the thought of his men freezing all night on the windswept walls. They had torn down almost all of the timber buildings, yet the supply of firewood was not going to last the winter. For almost a fortnight, the men on the walls had gone without fires, and Urien had commanded that none serve more than two hours a night in the bitter cold before being relieved.
Back at the keep Urien walked to his bedchamber, for he had ordered the hearth in the massive throne room left unlit. The wood consumed there in a day could keep a hundred of his soldiers warm, and thus was his priority. His chamber was warm, the fire in the small hearth crackling noisily. On the table was set the king's dinner, a roast fowl, with bread and butter, and a flagon of hot spiced wine. Urien poured himself a cup of the wine and tore a leg off the fowl. He sat in the chair by the fire and sighed deeply, feeling the warmth bring feeling back to his legs. He took a drink of the wine and savored the hot liquid sliding down his throat, driving the chill from his bones. Urien called to his chamberlain and ordered that Caelin be brought to him, then he ate sparingly of the leg of fowl while he waited. A few moments later there was a knock on the door.
"Enter.”
The heavy oaken door swung open and Caelin walked in. The young warrior was clad in a simple tunic and a heavy woolen cloak. Around his head was tied a coarse bandage, partially soaked through with blood. He stood rigidly before Urien. "You called for me, sire?"
Urien looked up and stared at Caelin intently. The two had become close, perhaps because they were nearly the same age and, though both young, each had proven his worth in battle. Indeed, Caelin had shown himself to be a warrior with few equals, and Urien had lost count of the foes he had slain.
"Yes, Caelin. I wanted to speak with you. But first, have you eaten?"
"Yes, sire, I have finished my evening meal."
"And what was that, pray tell, a crust of bread? I am fatigued, my friend, but not blind. To my eye you weigh two stone less than when you staggered into this keep ten months ago. I would not have you lose the last of your strength, for you have become one of my greatest warriors."
"Still have I the strength to serve my king and realm." The young warrior stood proudly. "The day that not be so, let God take me."
"Nonetheless, eat." Urien motioned toward the platter of roast fowl.
Caelin did not move. "That is your majesty's supper, and you should finish it, for you need strength even more than I."
"I am quite finished with it, Caelin. Sit. Eat."
Caelin wavered, and did not sit until Urien motioned a third time. Finally he lowered himself into one of the chairs and took a small portion of fowl onto a plate, though with Urien's encouragement, he soon set to the entire bird and devoured it, leaving naught on the platter but bones sucked clean.
Urien rose and walked to the table. Taking the flagon, he poured more wine into his cup, filling another as well and handing it to Caelin. "Drink, for this will warm you and take away the chill."
Caelin drank deeply of the hot, flavorful wine, and he savored the feeling of warmth as he swallowed. He had indeed been famished, and the meal and the wine brought strength back to his aching limbs. He hadn't realized how weak he had become until the meal restored part of his constitution. "My thanks to your majesty. You are too kind."
"Caelin, you have merited my kindness on more occasions than I can easily recount, yet there is one other task I would have you undertake, if you will accept it."
"Sire, I shall gladly accept any task you give me, and I shall succeed or die in the attempt."
Urien smiled. "Such I knew would be your response, yet I would have you know what I intend before you agree. Into this keep you came, wounded and frozen and half-dead, true to your oath to bring me Lord Arailt's final words. I would now have you undertake such a quest again, for I must know why we have heard naught from King Constantine and the other monarchs. I tell thee truly, Caelin, I believed that Constantine would long ago have ridden to our aid, yet we have received not so much as a message from the south. The King of Powys is an honorable man, and in his word I trust. I must know what has happened."
Urien took a drink of wine and walked over to the hearth, warming his hands at the fire as he continued. "I would send you south, to make your way through the enemy's forces and journey to Caer Guricon. Deliver my message to King Constantine and beseech his assistance, for we cannot hold much longer on our own."
Caelin rose from his seat and stood rigidly before the king. "I am at your command, sire. I know not how to slip past so numerous a foe, but if my body and soul may achieve it, then it shall be done. I shall reach Caer Guricon, and then I shall return...with or without the army of King Constantine."
"Nay, Caelin. If you find no help then do not return, for if we have no relief we shall fall, and I would not have you return from so perilous a journey only to perish in a lost cause."
Caelin opened his mouth to protest, but Urien raised his hand imperiously. "We shall not argue, for would you obey your king or question his commands?" Urien could see that Caelin was troubled by his final order, yet the young warrior said nothing and just stood silently before the king. "Go now, and rest, for tomorrow you shall leave as soon as it is dark."
Caelin bowed and left the king's chambers as ordered, walking slowly to the common room where he was billeted. He lay on the pile of straw he had called a bed these past ten months, but sleep wouldn't come despite his exhaustion. I will be forever shamed, he thought to himself, to live in the free south if my king be fated to die in the ruins of his capital. For several hours he rolled about fitfully, until at last fatigue won out, and he fell into a restless sleep.
The next night, with a pack full of provisions, a heavy fur cloak, and a small bag of gold, he crawled silently through a secret door in the south wall. The moon was but a tiny white sliver, and the night was nearly black as pitch. Slowly, carefully he made his way past the camps of the enemy and then, climbing over a steep hillside, he found the old Roman road and headed south.
For five days they rode north and west, and finally, as they cleared a steep hillside, they saw Caerleon in the distance. The stronghold of Leodegrance's family for four generations, Caerleon was a massive fortress, which of old had housed an entire Roman legion for three centuries. Now it was the seat of Cameliard, and one of the greatest strongholds in Britannia.
No more Saxons had they encountered, but they surprised a small group of Britons bearing the black and red banner, and they put them all to the sword. All save one, the leader, whom Uther questioned, learning much of who they were and from where
they came. The prisoner did not survive the questioning.
Warriors of Vortigern's army they were, and allied with the Saxons. Their lords had charged them with laying waste the country and instilling fear in the villagers to break their will. Five kings had sworn to Vortigern, and to their levies he had added every turncoat and sword for sale he could find. From the furthermost north to the southern coasts his forces were in the field, and all of the free kings were hard pressed.
As they reached to the gates of Caerleon they were challenged, and Leodegrance rode forward, calling to the captain of the guard by name. "Folant, have I been gone so long that your forget me, whom you trained to fight?"
The captain was a fearsome giant clad in black mail, his wiry hair and beard half black and half gray. At the sound of Leodegrance's voice he ran forward from the portcullis and fell to his knees. "Sire, you have returned." He turned his head and shouted back to the gate-guards, his voice choked with emotion. "The king has returned. All hail King Leodegrance."
Leodegrance was taken aback, and he quickly dismounted, walking over to Folant and bidding him rise. "Of what do you speak, Folant, for my father is king in Cameliard."
The captain rose and stood before Leodegrance, and tears streamed from his eyes. "Alas, my king, for your father is dead. Slain in battle on the eastern marches two moons past. You are now king of Cameliard."
Leodegrance stood silently, for he was overcome with emotion. Grief for the loss of his father, shock at the realization that he was now king, uncertainty as to what next to do. It was Uther who spoke next, for he had dismounted and run to his friend's side. "Make way, men of Cameliard, for long has your king journeyed, and he is fatigued. You have awaited him, and he has returned, and he shall lead you, yet first the son must mourn the father." He walked with his silent friend through the gates, waving aside the guards who barred the way.
The captain accompanied them into the fortress, ordering the gate guards to return to their posts. Word spread quickly, for the warriors of Cameliard had been leaderless and despairing, and the return of their young prince, now king, rallied their spirits. Along their path the soldiers and craftsmen and servants of Caerleon gathered and, bowing low, they paid homage to their new king.
Finally the party entered the great hall, and the thick wood double doors were shut, leaving Leodegrance, Uther, Caradoc, and Folant alone. Leodegrance sat in one of the heavy oak chairs, not the king's seat, and looked up at his guard captain. "Tell me now, Folant, all that has happened." He motioned for the giant to sit.
The great warrior stood nervously, but sat when Leodegrance motioned to him once again. "Well, sire," - Leodegrance cringed when Folant called him "sire" again - "there were raids along the eastern marches. Saxons, and other warriors too, attacking villages, killing, burning, carrying off women. It started just before the harvest. Your father, God rest his soul, would have none of it, and he took half the guard from Caerleon and rode east. He was a wise man and a good king, your father, and he knew there would be more trouble, so he called up the levy before he left, ordering them to assemble at Caerleon.
"Behind he left me, to hold Caerleon and organize the levy, so what I know of the fighting in the east is from the men who returned. He ranged all along the eastern frontier and drove off the raiders, slaying many. Then he learned from a captured Saxon, that the women who had been taken were being held in a camp just east of the border. You know what sort of man was your father, sire. If there were subjects of his in danger he would be there in an instant. So off they rode to free the prisoners.
"But it was a trap, for when they reached the camp they found the women, but all had been slain after much torment. Doubtless, your father realized it was a trap, but it was too late, for they were beset by enemies from all sides. Long did they fight, and finally they cut through the enemy, yet in this last fighting the king was surrounded by enemies and overwhelmed. The last of the guard turned and fought, reclaiming his body before they left the field. One man in ten returned, but they brought the body of the king, and now he rests in the tomb of his fathers."
The room was silent for a moment. Leodegrance was briefly lost in memories, but he forced himself back to the present. "No Saxon chieftan lured my father to his death. The hand of Vortigern is clear in this matter. Our business now is vengeance. You said my father called the levy - where are they? I saw none but the normal guards when we arrived."
Folant looked nervously at Leodegrance. "Sire, with your father slain and you gone for so long, no one knowing where, the lords were confused and without a leader. Finally, they dispersed and returned home to protect their lands the best they could. I took to myself the power of regency and commanded that each leave a tithe of their men here to replace those lost with your father. I sent a messenger to Caer Guricon, for King Constantine had been at war in the north, and had bidden your father to guard the south. I begged instruction from him, but as yet we have heard naught. I pray that you approve of my actions, sire, for I meant not to overstep my place but only to preserve Caerleon for you until your return."
"Approve?" Leodegrance placed his hand on the captain's broad shoulder. "Folant, you have acted wisely and loyally. Indeed, you have held Caerleon, for if you had allowed its defenses to weaken we may have arrived to find the fortress taken and its gates barred to us. For surely, Vortigern has spies, even in Caerleon."
Leodegrance thought for a moment about his next actions, for he was new to kingship and, truth be told, he did not know what to do. His heart cried out for vengeance, yet marching foolishly east only invited disaster. No doubt Vortigern expected such an action from the young king and had already prepared another trap. Yet he must display boldness, for he could not appear weak and indecisive before his lords, lest they lose confidence in him. Indeed, their morale was already shattered by the defeat and death of the old king.
Uther sat silently as well, for this was Leodegrance's kingdom, and it was for him to decide on his next course. Uther would help his friend any way he could, but also now his thoughts drifted to Caer Guricon. Folant had said that Constantine had been in the field, yet there had been no word for some weeks. Though he had only obeyed his father's wishes, Uther was now regretful that he had been gone, for it seemed that events had progressed faster than had been expected. He wanted to stay at Caerleon to aid his friend, but he knew now that he had to return to Caer Guricon as quickly as his horse could carry him. He would leave on the morrow.
Finally, Leodegrance broke the silence. "Folant, call the levy again, for though we shall not march off recklessly, it is clear that war is upon us. Each lord is to leave one man in five to guard his stronghold, and march with the rest at once. I would have the army assembled in a week."
Leodegrance turned to face Uther. "My friend, sure I am now that you will return to Caer Guricon as soon as you may. My father always regarded Constantine as high king and supported him in all things. Bring to your father my regards, and tell him that I also look upon him as the rightful ruler of all Britannia. I shall look to the defense of Cameliard, but also I await council on our joint course of action."
Uther nodded. "With your leave, I shall depart in the early morning, and take none with me that I may ride swiftly and arrive as soon as I may."
Caradoc, who had been standing silently, finally spoke. "Lord Uther, I shall ride with you if you permit it, for I will not slow you, and you shall have at least another sword should we encounter trouble on the road."
"I am honored by your offer, my friend. I intend to ride day and night with no rest."
Caradoc smiled. "Indeed, I thought nothing else. I shall keep up with you, and you shall have one friend, at least, protecting your back."
"Then it is resolved.” Leodegrance spoke forcefully, but Uther knew his friend was troubled and uncertain. "The rest of the party may stay at Caerleon as long as they wish. Indeed, I am grateful for the skilled swords. For you, my friends, since I have but one fleeting night to be your host, let us at least sha
re a decent meal, and then I bid you both retire, for you have a long and hard road ahead of you."
They supped together, and then Uther and Caradoc retired. Long was the night, though, and filled with troublesome dreams. Burning towns and ruined fortresses did Uther see, and battlefields of horrendous carnage. Many times he awoke, soaked in sweat despite the cold night air.
Leodegrance had risen early to bid them farewell, and he didn’t appear to have gotten any more sleep than Uther during the night. Well-packed provisions he had ready for them, and gold too, for he and Uther had used that which they'd brought on their trip. The fastest horses in Caerleon he put at their disposal, and when they were ready to depart he said an emotional farewell to his traveling companion of more than a year.
He stood alone in the dim pre-dawn light and watched them ride away. Long after they'd ridden up and over the hillside and disappeared from view he stood and looked out where they had gone, for he was deep in thought about war and kingship and friends. When, he wondered, would he next see Uther Pendragon?
Through the muddy main street of Caer Guricon he rode, for Uther had returned home after many months abroad. All around the town were pitched the tents of the levy, for the warriors of Powys were called to the king's banner. Yet no fresh levy was this, for he saw the debris and tattered flags and wounded men of an army that had seen battle. And fewer tents there were than he remembered from the last time the army was assembled.
He rode up the path to the great dark bulk of the castle and as he reached the top he found the gates closed tight. Dark figures stood guard on the battlement above the entry and on the walls.