by Jay Allan
"Open the gates."
"Who goes there?" The reply was harsh and impatient. Half a dozen guards looked down threateningly from the crenellated wall above the gate.
"It is Uther Pendragon, knaves, and if you do not open the gate at once I shall climb up there myself and teach all of you to respect my commands!"
He could hear the excited banter among the guards, and a familiar voice crying out. "It is Lord Uther. He has returned."
Uther recognized the speaker - Caer Guricon's captain of the guard. "Indeed, Kelven, and I have come too far to be patient of delay now, so open the gate. I would see my father at once."
There was a clang as the bolt was removed and a great creak as the massive oaken doors slid open. Uther and Caradoc rode through and up to the castle courtyard. Jumping off his horse, Uther turned to Caradoc. "Wait for me here, my friend, for I would speak alone with my father."
Caradoc nodded then dismounted and took the reins of his and Uther's horses. "I shall attend to our mounts and await your return."
Into the keep Uther strode, and halfway to the great hall he came upon Merlin. Though troubled over all he had seen since his return, Uther could not help but smile when he saw his old friend, clad as always in a counselor's simple robes. Merlin returned the smile, but it did not last on his lips, for he seemed consumed with worry.
Uther embraced the older man warmly. "Merlin, it is good to see you, old friend. It has been far too long."
"And pleased I am to see you." Merlin warmly returned Uther's embrace. "Long have you traveled, and much no doubt have you seen. There are many tidings to tell, and mostly ill, though your father should speak of these to you."
"And while I long to sit by the fire and tell you of my travels, no further should I delay seeing my father, or I shall once again be scolded for frivolity. News from here in Britannia I bear as well from across the sea. Know you that King Ogyruan is dead and that Leodegrance now rules in Cameliard?"
"Aye, for the news of the king's death had reached us, yet it is good tidings at least that Leodegrance has returned, and Cameliard again has a king."
"So where is my father, Merlin, for I shall present myself at once."
"He is in his bedchamber, Uther." Merlin looked down sadly. "For his health fails him quickly now, and I fear his time is short indeed."
Uther's smile faded, for he had been worried about his father's health even when he left the year prior. He took leave of Merlin and hurried to the king's chamber. Knocking softly on the door he said, "Father? It is Uther. May I enter?"
"Uther? Come in, come in." His father's voice was frail and thin, barely audible through the door.
Uther swung open the heavy wooden door and walked slowly inside. King Constantine lay in his bed, his body covered with furs. Slowly and painfully he turned his head toward the door. Uther was shocked, for the king was gaunt and pale, a few sparse wisps of white hair all that was left of the thick mane he'd had but a year before.
"Uther, my boy. I knew you would return in time." He spasmed and began coughing, red mist spraying from his mouth.
Uther ran over and knelt at his bedside. He grabbed a rag from the small night table and wiped the blood from his father's lips. The old man reached out with a skeletal arm and put his withered hand on Uther's. "Be still, father." Uther spoke softly, soothingly. “I am here."
"Nay, Uther." Constantine's voice was hoarse and rattling. "There is much to speak of and little time. Listen now, for a great deal has happened while you were gone, and many burdens have fallen on your shoulders. War has been kindled in all of the land, and greatly have we suffered in the field. All of your brothers are slain, Uther. Before yearend, you shall be king of Powys."
Uther stood there, stunned, staring into his father's rheumy eyes. "All? How?"
"Constans slain, leading a force north to relieve Carlisle, for Urien has been under siege these ten months. In the forest they were attacked and turned back, and though they fought their way out, your brother was mortally wounded by a spear thrust and died a fortnight later here in Caer Guricon.”
The old king’s voice was brittle, burdened by weakness and by the grief of a mourning father. "Constantine was murdered in his camp by one of his men, for alas there are traitors even in our ranks who have taken Vortigern's accursed silver to betray their rightful lords.”
Constantine coughed again, struggling to clear his throat and continue. "And Antonius fell with all his men, defending the eastern approaches when they were assailed by the enemy. None survived to return, so little do we know of what there occurred."
Uther looked down at his feet, his expression one of pain and regret. "I should not have departed, for in the end, little did we achieve. The empire is lost, and indeed there is no longer an emperor in the west but only a barbarian king of Italia. Here was my place, in the field with my brothers, and Leodegrance's with his father."
"Nay, Uther," replied Constantine, "for you did as I commanded. And now we know that never shall the legions return to our shores. Britannia must thus have a high king, lest through division and warfare we descend into darkness. This is your birthright, Uther, for you will soon be the last of the Pendragon. I charge you with this task, my son, for you are already the greatest warrior in Britannia. I beg your forgiveness, for I fear I have left you little power to enforce this claim. Our arms are defeated and demoralized, and I die knowing I have failed. My last hope is that my son may take up our banner and prevail where I have not."
Uther's mind was reeling, for so much had happened in these last few days. He put his hand gently on his father's head. "There is naught to forgive, father, for I will do as you bid. Yet, you will recover from your ills and live many more summers."
Constantine's lips formed a fragile smile. "Nay, my son. God calls me. Indeed, without Merlin's potion already would I be in His kingdom. But alas, even Merlin's wisdom has its limits, and the elixir no longer has power to hold off mortality. More swiftly comes the end now, for so Merlin warned me it would be when first he brewed the potion. Worry not for me, Uther, my son, for I fear not death. Tired I am, and ready to leave this life. I regret only that I leave you naught but strife and war against bitter odds."
"We shall prevail, father, and I swear to thee that the Pendragon shall defeat Vortigern and claim the high kingship of Britannia. Whatever may be required of me, I shall prevail."
The old king smiled at his son, but only for a second, for he had one more burden to lay upon Uther, and now he wished he had chosen another course. "Uther, there is one other thing we need speak of. For it involves Elisedd's daughter Igraine." Constantine was half-blind, but he could see his son well enough with his clouded eyes to tell he had judged wrongly, for in that moment he knew that Uther loved the girl, and his heart ached for what he must now say.
While Constantine paused, Uther could not hold his tongue. "Please father, do not tell me she is somehow stricken. God, please let it not be so!"
"She is well, Uther." Constantine's voice was thick with despair. "Yet for you, I fear, these will be bitter tidings, for betrothed to Gorlois of Cornwall she is. Indeed, had war not come upon us so early, she would be already married."
Uther gasped in his shock, his mind racing to grasp with this news. "Then she has not yet been married? For you are king, father. I beg you, give not your consent to the match Elisedd has arranged. As king, thus is your right."
Constantine paused, then struggled to make himself say what he had to. "It is not Elisedd's doing that has made this match; it is mine, and undertaken not by choice. For Igraine is the cost of alliance with Gorlois and with Cornwall. Her wedding shall seal the treaty between Cornwall and Powys, and Gorlois shall recognize the Pendragon as high kings, aiding us with all his forces."
"No!" Uther's cry was a mix of anger and despair. "It shall not be so. I would sooner slay Gorlois than lose Igraine to such as him!"
Constantine gripped his son's arm with all the scant strength that remained in his withered
hands. His body wracked with pain, he spoke through another fit of coughing. "Be silent, Uther! For a king you must be and not a lovesick boy. A full third of our warriors have been lost, and the enemy overwhelms us on all frontiers. Without the forces of Cornwall to aid us there is no hope. None. Kingship is a heavy burden, my son, heavy indeed. Yet it is your sacred duty, for the people will need you. You will be high king of Britannia and unite this ravaged land. Unless you allow Vortigern to have the victory."
"I cannot. I will not lose her."
"Then you would allow your kingdom to fall, and when you are dead with your warriors on the field, what shall become of Igraine? Shall she die too, or be spoil for the conquerors? For you will be her high king as well. Will you protect her or, by having her yourself, will you fail her and all your subjects? All of Britannia?"
Uther buried his head in the fur covering on his father's bed and sat silently, the only sound in the room, Constantine's struggled breathing. Finally Uther spoke, his tone dark with despair. "When are they to be wed?"
"Within the fortnight, for even now Gorlois journeys to Caer Guricon to claim his bride. Uther, you must pledge to me now on your honor that you will not attempt to stop this union. Were there any other way I would embrace it, but there is not. Indeed, now Gorlois would take insult were we to renege and likely there would be war with Cornwall as well as Vortigern. Cameliard would be the first to fall. Would you betray Leodegrance and allow him to bear the brunt of Gorlois' vengeance for your love of a woman? Would you see your friend dead in the ruins of Caerleon?" Uther knelt before the bed and was silent. Constantine continued, rasping through the rattling congestion in he chest. "Uther, swear to me, for this is my last command to you."
Uther rose, slowly, stiffly, as if all strength had drained from him. He stood over his father and looked at the frail and dying man and realized that the burden had already passed to him. If Powys should survive and prosper or if its people should be conquered and reduced to slavery, all this was now on his shoulders. He had never thought deeply about the responsibilities of being king, for never had he expected the crown to fall to him. But now he thought to himself, I am already king, in all but formality. All is on a knife's edge, for if I do not take command then no one shall.
In that instant was born Uther Pendragon, high king of Britannia, for within him grew a terrible, steely resolve. Though still but eighteen years of age, the boy was gone, in its place naught but the dread warrior king. In that moment he recalled Odoacer’s words, and he knew that he would unite Britannia under his rule, whatever the cost. He would water the field with his enemies' blood.
"I swear to you, father." Uther's voice was like ice. "Igraine shall marry Gorlois." Thus were the last words Uther Pendragon ever spoke to his father. He turned his back on the wretched old man and walked out into the corridor.
Uther sat at the oak table in the great hall poring over a large map. On it were small flags representing the best guesses at the location of enemy forces. His gaze was focused on the cluster of markers around Carlisle.
"We must relieve Urien, for if Carlisle falls we lose our bulwark in the north. Thus, there we will strike in force and break this siege. Yet we must also deceive the enemy, lest he discover how weakly held Caer Guricon will be once the army has departed."
The advisors around the table were silent and gloomy, for they saw no way to engage the might of the enemy. On all fronts they were outnumbered, and his victories of the past year had emboldened their foe and swelled his numbers. Terrified lords, who might have sided with Powys and its allies, submitted to Vortigern's rule out of fear.
"Gorlois shall arrive tomorrow." Uther spat the words with disgust. "I shall insist that his forces be at Caer Guricon and ready to march north by the new moon. This alliance is dearly bought, and I shall demand the full support for which we pay so heavily."
Kelven, the captain of the guard of Caer Guricon finally spoke. "Lord Uther, what of our lands and those to the south. We are no less sorely beset here than in the north. How can we hope to hold back the foe if the army marches to relieve Carlisle, and Gorlois' forces too?"
"Perhaps we can conceive of a strategem that will serve our need." The voice came from the great entryway, where stood Merlin, just arrived to sit in the war council.
Uther looked up at the new arrival. "Your wisdom would be most welcome, Merlin. What thoughts have you on this?"
Merlin paused. "I would speak with you alone, my friend, for I have words just for thee."
Uther stood abruptly and walked toward the entry where Merlin stood. He turned briefly, addressing the assembled advisors. "Continue preparing the plans for the march north." He clasped his hand on Merlin's shoulder and bade his friend follow. Out of the main doors they walked and through the courtyard to one of the bastions that overlooked the town below.
"Alone we are now, Merlin. So what plans have you that cannot be shared with the council?"
"A plan I do have, and while I trust the council to a point, also I doubt not that Vortigern has spies, even in Caer Guricon. That all of your brothers were taken at disadvantage and slain seems to me too much to grant to fate alone. I would bid you to be cautious in whom you place your confidence."
"And can I trust you, Merlin?" asked Uther plainly.
"Thus do you speak like a true king, my friend." There was weariness in Merlin’s voice. "Yet do you truly doubt my friendship and loyalty?"
Uther looked down at his feet. "Nay, Merlin. All my life have you been there for me. Yet so much has happened, and I know not whom I can trust. For fear as well as disloyalty can sap the strength of my army." Both were silent for a moment, then Uther glanced at his companion. "So what is your strategy, Merlin?"
"There are opportunities for deception as well as battle. For you have just returned, and though no allies were you able to find, your foes do not know this. From the coast you rode to Cameliard, and on your way you assailed and destroyed several of the enemy's raiding parties."
"This is true, Merlin, but no more than six or seven score did we slay. And, indeed, we were outnumbered in the largest fight."
Merlin placed a hand on Uther's arm. "Ah, but put yourself in the enemy's place. The only remaining heir with a claim to the high kingship has returned, for surely by now Vortigern is aware you are back. He lands, with what allies or forces you know not, yet along his march, all of your forces have been wiped out where before they ranged without hindrance. What might you think? What fears would grow on your mind?"
Uther listened attentively, for he began to divin Merlin's plan. "Deception…that must be our weapon here and in the south. Yet can we truly convince the foe that we leave strength enough here to meet him and still march with enough power to relieve Carlisle?"
"It will place a heavy burden on Leodegrance," said Merlin, "for he is one of those you can trust with the truth, and I fear great risk will fall upon him as he plays his part. For you, yourself, will certainly need to go north. The army is demoralized, and only you can restore its spirit. Leodegrance you must leave behind to hold Cameliard and Powys."
Uther stood silently, thinking, grasping at the threads of a plan. "Caradoc." he finally said, more loudly than he had intended. "A Visigothic nobleman I have with me, and his guard. Though the warriors we have left behind in Caerleon. A friend he is, and sworn to my service. They be but ten in number, but might we not create an army of Gothic shadows, come to our aid under Caradoc, the great Visigothic prince?"
"Indeed, such was my thinking. This is the tool we shall use if this Caradoc be willing. We must begin immediately, for your friend must be heralded as a great visiting prince. Vortigern's spies we shall enlist to our aid, for no doubt they will quickly report of this foreign lord welcomed into Caer Guricon. He must be included in councils, and there must be much talk of his army. We will present his few men as a personal guard and but a fraction of his total strength."
Uther smiled grimly. "This plan could work, I daresay. For Caradoc is of nobl
e bearing, and he will be easily accepted as a great prince. We shall use this deception to forestall the enemy in the east and south while I march to Carlisle with the levies of Powys and Cornwall." Uther's smile left him as he spoke of Cornwall, and Merlin understood, for he knew the great price of this aid. Silently they stood together, and Merlin knew what dashed hopes Uther now pondered.
"Uther, I would ask something of you…that you will do as I bid you and not ask of me any questions."
Uther looked confused, but he nodded at once. "Merlin, with my life I trust you. What is it you would have me do?"
There is a small house in the town, just off of the main road past the orchard. It is recently whitewashed, while all the others around it are dark-stained wood. Know you of what I speak?"
"Yes, I think so. I believe I have walked past the house before."
"Then I bid you meet me there, just after dusk when darkness comes. Do not delay or knock on the door. Just enter. And let no one know where you go."
Uther did not understand why Merlin would make such an odd request, but he knew the old man did nothing without reason, and he had promised not to question. "Very well, Merlin. I shall do as you request."
Merlin just smiled briefly and nodded.
Uther returned the nod. "But now, I shall go and speak with Caradoc, and enlist his aid in our plan."
Uther slipped out of the castle just after dusk, taking a secret passage known only to a very few. Although Merlin had not asked him to disguise himself, he decided that discretion was probably wise. He wore a simple gray hooded tunic, with only a small dagger for a weapon. With the hood drawn over his head he made his way through the town, finding the house of which Merlin spoke. Looking around him and seeing no one, he pushed open the door and walked inside.
Standing in the room was Merlin, and next to him a slim figure clad much as Uther himself was, also with a hood drawn. Uther gasped when two small, pale hands reached up and pulled back the cloak to reveal Igraine's face.