by Jay Allan
"Where are Kelven and El..." Uther stifled his question as his two captains came rushing into the hall, hurriedly bowing before the king. Uther motioned for the two to sit, then pointed toward empty chairs. "Come, my friends. Break the fast with me, for we have much to plan." Uther tore off a small piece of bread from a large loaf and motioned again, this time for his companions to eat. "We will be marching for Cornwall. Gorlois has disobeyed my command, so I will take Tintagel Castle by storm and enforce my justice."
Kelven had a somber look on his face, and he sat quietly, not eating anything. Eldol had taken some fruit and a small piece of salted pork. He looked concerned, though not as glum at Kelven. Uther saw his captain's concern. "Speak freely, Kelven. Never shall I be so complacent as to ignore the thoughts of my great war captain."
Kelven was hesitant. He had known Uther since the king was a baby, but he was still uncomfortable disagreeing with his sovereign. "My king…Tintagel is one of the strongest fortresses in all Britannia. We must prepare much for such a siege, and build up a great store of supplies. It will take long to call in all the levies and rally the kings."
Uther looked over and motioned toward Eldol, who quickly swallowed a piece of salt pork he'd just shoved in his mouth. "My king, I must agree with Kelven. Tintagel is hardly approachable by land. Without a fleet we will be forced to attack across the narrow causeway. It will be costly."
"And with a fleet? For I have dispatched an embassy to King Pellinore bidding him sail his ships to Cornwall and aid us. Tintagel shall receive no supply from the sea."
Kelven was unconvinced, but he knew Uther and understood that when the king set his mind to a thing nothing could deter him. "What are your commands, sire?"
"We leave in one week." Uther's voice was hard and determined, and he ignored the looks of shock on his captain's faces. "I want the levy assembled and ready to depart seven days from now."
Eldol glanced at Kelven, who had been in Uther's service longer, but the old captain shook his head briefly, warning him off. His mouth had opened, but he closed it without speaking. Finally it was Kelven who broke the silence. "Yes, my king. It will be done." He then stood and bowed before Uther. "I beg your leave to go, for Eldol and I have much work to do."
Uther nodded his assent, and after they had turned to leave he spoke softly so no one could hear. "I am coming, Igraine. This time no one shall hinder me."
The summer had been hot and long, and the army of Uther Pendragon marched slowly on dry, dusty roads. Though the king drove his men hard, they could make but 7 or 8 miles a day in the scorching heat, lest men and horses begin dying along the trail in even greater numbers. The force was small for, though Kelven and Eldol worked day and night, it had proved impossible to assemble the entire levy of Powys in seven days, and no detachments from the other kings had arrived by the time they left Caer Guricon.
On the twelfth day of the march they met Leodegrance and those warriors of Cameliard he could quickly assemble. But even combined, they were barely 2,500 strong. Merlin rode with Uther, and his spirit was leaden. Even if the other kings responded to Uther's call, their troops would be many weeks behind, and winter would be approaching before they could arrive. He was sure that Urien, at least, would send forces, but his troops had even greater distances to march.
Uther was untroubled, however. His rigid determination to destroy Gorlois and free Igraine from her marriage had blinded him to all fear and reason. Never a cautious man, he had become driven and reckless, and he could not be persuaded to wait until all his forces had assembled.
Gorlois had sent new messengers, repeating his claims of innocence, but Uther would not receive them. Uther's lords and men were loyal, but they wondered why the high king was so driven to move on Gorlois before the army was ready. Surely, even if the king of Cornwall was guilty of treason, there was no immediate threat.
They entered Cornwall unopposed, and at last the heat broke and autumn came, bringing with it torrential rains and turning the dusty roads into impassable quagmires. Tintagel was in the extreme west of the kingdom, many days march from the borders, and Uther's forces continued their relentless advance. Halfway between the frontier of Cornwall and Tintagel, they came upon Gorlois' army blocking the road, formed for battle.
Before the defending troops there was an embassy, and they rode toward Uther's army under flag of truce. They were led by Hurrin, one of the highest-ranked lords of Cornwall, and one of Gorlois' few real friends, and they were taken to a hastily pitched tent wherein the high king of Britannia sat upon a camp stool awaiting them. Tall and clad in spotless armor and livery, Hurrin knelt before Uther, waiting for permission to speak. The king, by contrast, wore armor soiled from the field and an old and faded tunic bearing the Pendragon heraldry. Uther was a warrior, and he had little use for the finery of court. He looked at the visiting lord, his face impassive. "You may speak, Hurrin. I will hear your embassy."
The visitor hesitated for a moment. Uther's tone was icy, and though he had not raised his voice, Hurrin was intimidated nonetheless. "King Uther, I am here to assure you most profoundly that King Gorlois is, as ever, loyal to your majesty. I have been sent to plead this case and to reaffirm the loyalty of the king and all Cornwall to your high kingship."
Uther waited for Hurrin to complete his speech. He sat upon his stool unmoving, a graven image of solid, unyielding granite. His voice, when he spoke, projected utter finality. "You speak lies, Hurrin, or you are a fool. For your lord" - Uther deliberately avoided calling Gorlois a king - "was commanded to present himself at Caer Guricon. Instead of obeying, he sent ambassadors with more lies. And now, an army of Cornwall lies before me. What purpose has this? Think you 'tis loyalty to bar the march of your high king with armed warriors?" Uther was becoming angry, his voice rising like a gathering storm. "Your lord may be convicted from his own deeds, for it was treason to disobey my command to appear, apart from his former actions that prompted by edict. And now, yet again, he proves himself a traitor for sending his army against his lawful liege." His voice had reached a crescendo, and all in the tent cringed at the unleashed fury of Uther Pendragon.
Uther rose, the stool tumbling behind him as he walked toward Hurrin. "Go now, and tell your lord that he has condemned himself. I shall hang him as the traitor he is even if I must dig him cowering from the ruins of Tintagel. Go to your army and see what men you can rally to attack the high king of Britannia, for no quarter shall be given to those who do." Uther was a force of nature, and it took all of Hurrin's resolve simply to stand before the king and endure the withering barrage. "Now, begone, before I strike you down as a traitor yourself. You have one hour to clear your rabble from the road. If you do not, I shall."
Hurrin bowed low and hurriedly retreated from the tent. His orders were to stand and fight if he could not negotiate a truce, but his courage was beginning to fail. Uther's rage had unnerved him, for Hurrin had fought in the war against Vortigern, and he had seen firsthand how Uther dealt with those he perceived as treacherous. Gorlois was his lawful sovereign, yet Uther Pendragon was high king to whom he also owed allegiance. He could not obey one without betraying the other. In despair he thought to himself, what can I do?
Hurrin walked into his tent, waving off all who tried to follow him. He had ridden back from Uther's camp, saying nothing to his entourage. He rode back at such a pace they could barely keep up with him, and now he had stormed into his tent, closing the flap behind him.
"I would speak with you, Hurrin." The voice was familiar and mysteriously compelling. The figure in the corner of the tent was unmoving, clad in a gray, hooded cloak.
"Who is there? Merlin? Is that you?"
The figure remained motionless, his face hidden by the drawn hood. "I am a friend. An advisor. That is all you need know. Remember that and ask no more. I have counsel to offer."
He is here without Uther's knowledge, thought Hurrin. Perhaps Merlin would offer him a solution to his dilemma. "I would hear your counsel if you wou
ld offer it." He motioned for the visitor to take a seat, but the robed figure remained unmoving.
"You are at a crossroads, Hurrin. Do you side with Gorlois or with Uther? And, having made your choice, will the other lords and men adhere to your decision?" The gray visitor paused to allow Hurrin to consider the situation. "You have taken the field with Uther Pendragon before. Do you believe you can best him in battle? If you stand for Gorlois on this field you will die. Your men will die, for Uther will show no mercy to those who defy his will. You know this to be true."
Hurrin stood silently, listening to Merlin's words, and he began to hope. Perhaps there is an escape from this pending doom.
"Gorlois is lost. No man can now save him from his fate. I would not see you and your men slaughtered, nor Uther lose brave warriors in pointless battle. And I would spare Cornwall from the wrath of the high king should he believe the whole kingdom to be disloyal. Yet neither would I counsel you to join Uther and march on Tintagel, for such would be dishonorable, and would breed dissension in your ranks."
Merlin paused once again, as he could see that Hurrin was paying heed to his words, and he wanted to give him time to consider. "If you would take my counsel, go you now, before Uther's deadline has passed, and declare to your lords and men that you cannot honorably war against either the king of Cornwall or the high king of Britannia. State that you will return to your own keep and you give leave to all to do what their hearts dictate. Those who would fight for Gorlois will be allowed to march to Tintagel Castle. Any who would join King Uther are free to do so. Those who feel as you do may depart and return to their homes with honor."
Hurrin stood silently for a moment, considering his options. "But, Mer.., sir, would not Uther be wrathful were I to leave the field and not support his cause?"
"Nay. You likely will not be in great favor, but you will not be punished, for the high king will recognize your act as an honorable one. Indeed, he will suspect the motives of those who would so easily abandon their king to join his standard."
Hurrin considered his options for another moment, but he knew he had no choice. "I thank you for your counsel. I shall do as you propose."
The gray-clad figure bowed slightly, and without a sound slipped out of the tent and was gone.
The army of Cornwall had broken up. The lines of battle disintegrated as men streamed back to camp. Tents were struck and possessions gathered, and men departed in various directions. Several hundred crossed the field, offering their services to Uther's army. Some were veterans of the old war who had fought closely alongside the high king, though others were simply opportunistic, choosing the side they thought would win. Another group formed up to march to Tintagel Castle to join the king of Cornwall. Mostly lords and retainers with especially close ties to Gorlois, they numbered perhaps five hundred in all.
The largest number, indeed two in three of those present, chose the same path as Hurrin, and they departed the field in every direction, bound for their keeps and homes and farms. Torn between loyalties and obligations, they would remain uncommitted.
The force bound for Tintagel marched briskly, intent on reaching the relative safety of the keep as quickly as possible. But the trail wound for many miles through a deep forest, and they were strung out and slowed by the narrowness of the path. Hidden from view in the dense undergrowth, a gray-robed man crouched down, speaking softly with a richly attired warrior. "Are your men ready, Caradoc?"
Caradoc, the son of a great Visigothic lord and, by Uther's hand, a king these past ten years, turned to face his companion. "They are ready, Merlin. But I am ill at ease undertaking this action without King Uther's leave. Are you sure this is wise?"
Merlin put his hand on Caradoc's shoulder. "You are a true friend to Uther, this I know. I trust you have no doubts about my own loyalty to the house of Pendragon."
Caradoc answered abruptly, afraid he had inadvertently insulted his companion. "No doubts, Merlin. Indeed, none could question your devotion. But to draw first blood in this affair without the high king's consent?"
I have to tell him more, thought Merlin. "Caradoc, we share a love of Uther, yet be both know he is not a cautious man. He marches on Gorlois ill-prepared, with only those levies he could gather quickly. I have, with words, dispersed the greater part of the army of Cornwall, yet still these hundreds remain pledged to Gorlois. Tintagel is one of the greatest fortresses in Britannia. We cannot allow it to become more strongly held than already it is. Uther would dash his army to pieces against its great bastions. We must make certain these warriors never reach their destination."
Caradoc exhaled loudly. He was still worried, but he could not escape the conclusion that Merlin was right. Uther Pendragon had taken him into his inner circle, rewarded him with trust and friendship, and finally given him a crown. He would do whatever he must to protect the high king. He would face Uther's legendary anger if needs be, but he would not allow his friend to face peril that he could reduce. "Very well, Merlin. I am with you."
It started in the rear of the marching force, warriors charging through the woods, smashing into the shocked men of Cornwall. The surprise was total, and many of the defenders were slain before they could mount a strong resistance. In other areas along the line they began to flee, but Caradoc had men waiting on the other side of the trail, and all who ran that way were slain.
On the path itself, some of the men of Cornwall managed to put up a stronger defense, and Caradoc's troops began to suffer losses as well. Near the front of the column a group of defenders had rallied around one giant warrior, and all about them lay the bodies of the attackers. It was Caradoc himself, and five other warriors, the last remaining of the ten who had accompanied him to Britannia, who charged in and overwhelmed the holdouts. When it was over, two of the brave Visigoths had fallen, and Caradoc himself had struck down the massive Cornish warrior.
Finally, the last of the defenders had been slain, and a grim quiet settled along the path. Caradoc's men gathered their wounded and counted their dead. They had lost fifty killed and ninety hurt from their total of six hundred. Around them, on the path and in the surrounding woods, lay five hundred of their enemies slain or dying. Merlin walked up to Caradoc, who was bleeding from a wound to the shoulder, the last blow of the giant of Cornwall. "Let me tend to that, lest it fester."
Caradoc seemed unconcerned about the injury, but he allowed Merlin to bind it. He winced when the old man sprinkled some yellow powder in the gash. "By god, Merlin, what is that? Powdered fire?"
Merlin smiled as he wrapped the shoulder in clean linen. "It will cleanse the wound and speed the healing. By the time battle is joined at Tintagel you will ready again for the fight."
Caradoc looked down at the ground silently for a few moments, then back at Merlin. "We shall soon meet with Uther, for he cannot be but a few miles east of here. Whether he shall embrace me or hang me I know not. But I would not have done other than I have."
Tintagel Castle rose above the sea, a dark monolith against the setting sun. Built by the Romans centuries earlier, it had been expanded and strengthened by Gorlois' line, the dukes of Cornwall. On three sides the sea crashed against the rocks below the great battlements, and on the land side were two great towers and a massive oaken gate.
Before that gate was arrayed the army of Uther Pendragon. Five times they had assailed the walls, and five times they had been thwarted by the nearly impregnable fortifications. Now the sounds of axes and tools could be heard all day as they felled trees and built siege engines of every manner. Four large ballistae they had already constructed, and even now these hurled great stones against the walls day and night.
They had suffered painful losses in the failed attacks, but reinforcements had arrived from Powys and Cameliard, and with these added to Caradoc's men, their numbers had swelled to 3,500. The defenders had also lost men, and fewer than 800 remained to man the walls.
Standing next to the largest of the ballistae, as the crew levered a large boulder int
o place, Leodegrance directed the siege operations. He was troubled over the entire affair and, indeed, he had thrice argued with Uther, beseeching his friend to pull back and seek a negotiated resolution. The last time the exchange had ended badly, with the first cross words the two had ever exchanged.
But Leodegrance's loyalty was absolute, and though he disapproved, he would help Uther with all his strength. Indeed, his close direction of the ballistae had been fruitful, and they were near to collapsing a section of the wall. They would continue to fire all night, and while the crews would be replaced, Leodegrance would remain. He had been two nights without sleep; this would be the third. But he was confident they could complete the breach by sunrise, and he would not be distracted. If he could not dissuade Uther from this course of action, he would see it done as quickly as possible.
The night was without a moon, and in the inky blackness, men in five boats rowed from the far side of the fortress. They had quietly filed out of a sally port on the seaward wall, carrying their small craft down to the water's edge. Uther had resolved to cut off Tintagel by sea, but King Pellinore's ships had not arrived, and the sallying force reached the shore undetected. One hundred strong, picked men all, they stealthily made their way toward the siege engines. One man in five carried a cask of oil, for it was their intent to burn the ballistae that had been so effective under Leodegrance's direction. They crept to within ten yards of the nearest ballista, and on a pre-planned signal, they threw their javelins at the crew.
Five men went down, and a few seconds later the attackers were on them, dispatching the wounded men and assailing those still standing. The defenders shouted the alarm, but already Gorlois' men had broken casks of oil on two of the great catapults, and a moment later both were engulfed in flames. The alarm roused Uther's men, and they had begun to rally. The raiders were soon fighting for their lives well short of the other two ballistae. They fought briefly, pushed back by the growing numbers of their adversaries. Finally, they fled back to their boats, their pursuers close behind. Two boats managed to escape, carrying fewer than half those who had sallied out. The sortie was over. It had been a partial success, but a costly one.