by Jay Allan
Uther considered what to do. Should he take the field? Against whom? He knew not who was friend and who was foe. God, Uther thought, I am tired in body and soul. Indeed, he feared not for himself, for such was not in his makeup. But Igraine and Arthur...and Anna - for so many years he had known nothing of his daughter - they must be safe.
Uther stared into the fire, not noticing the shadowy figure walking silently into the hall. "I see you still sit up late in this room, my friend. Many have been the nights that you and I have held this vigil together."
Uther leapt to his feet with such force his chair fell over, clattering loudly on the stone floor. "Merlin!" He rushed across the room and embraced his old friend and counselor. "Gods, Merlin, it is good to see you. Where have you been, my old friend? I feared for your fate."
"As I have feared for yours, and indeed still do." Merlin's voice was odd. There was happiness at seeing Uther after so long a time, but also sadness and loss. "I have been where I have had to be, my friend. I am old, and I grow weak. My power wanes."
Uther motioned for Merlin to sit as he reached over and set his own chair right. "I would have your counsel now, my old friend. And your forgiveness as well."
Merlin sat and put out his hands to the warmth of the fading embers. "There is naught for me to forgive, Uther. I am now and always have been your friend. Your actions were unwise, yet I understand the pain and need that drove them. You are a man, Uther, yet I fear we all wanted you to be a mountain made of stone. What we craved was too much for any man, even the great Uther Pendragon."
The old man - for the first time, Uther thought, Merlin looked truly old - dragged his chair closer to the dying fire. Uther could see the weariness in his friend, like his own, but with the weight of lifetimes pressing upon it. "And your counsel, Merlin? Will you help me, as you did of old?"
Merlin looked at Uther and managed an anemic smile. "What I have to give is yours, good friend. But I fear this time I know not how to heal what has been damaged." The smile drained from his face, replaced by a look of grave sadness and pain. "It may be, Uther, that it will fall to your son to rule a united Britannia."
Merlin's words hit Uther like a thunderclap, for the counselor had stated what none other would dare say to the king. He was silent for a moment, shocked. When he finally spoke his voice was soft and sad. "Has it come to that, Merlin? Is there no hope for me to restore the peace and stability of the land?"
"I know not, Uther. The kings feared you before, but they believed you just, and so they respected the high kingship and obeyed you. Now they only fear you, and fear turns easily to hate. Indeed, perhaps it has already so turned." Merlin paused, trying to decide if he should finish what he was going to say.
Finally, he continued. "Uther, it is possible you could crush all of the kings of Britannia, for you are the greatest warrior this land has seen, and in addition to your men of Powys, Leodegrance, at least, is loyal. Indeed, I believe that Urien would follow you, also. But such a course will bathe this land in blood such as we have never seen. For the enemy is less open now, and you will have to root out disloyalty wherever it has taken hold. Many who are innocent will die with the guilty. Famine and pestilence will ravage the land until the dead outnumber the living. Farms will burn and castles will fall. Are you ready to take such a road? Are you willing to do whatever it takes to crush any who oppose you and rule as a tyrant?"
Uther sat quietly, looking down as he rubbed his calloused hands slowly together. Finally he spoke. "No. I will not go down that road. I have lost the stomach for so much blood and suffering. I will not be a tyrant, hated by subjects who live their lives in fear and loathing." He looked at Merlin, his steely gray eyes dull and lifeless. "I would meet God with at least part of my soul still mine. I fear that those thousands I have sent to His judgment before me do not speak well of my virtues. Perhaps, however, I may yet avoid the fires of hell."
Merlin's heart ached for his friend. No man had bled more or struggled harder than Uther Pendragon. "You are a good man, my friend. Though my relationship with your God is uncertain, I feel your reckoning will be less grievous than you fear. You have sometimes erred, as all men do, but your heart is true."
The two sat long together, neither speaking, until finally the last embers had faded to gray ash and the first rays of dawn peaked through the great clerestory windows. Finally, Uther put his hand on Merlin's arm. "My old friend, I must ask something of you." Uther paused, trying to find the words he wished to say. "I have never allowed fear to govern me, Merlin, and I shall not begin now. Nor shall I allow it to compel me to actions I do not wish to take. If I attempt to uncover conspiracies, it will only further inflame the kings, for my actions would need be heavy handed were I to succeed. Indeed, men do not easily confess to treason. I will enhance the defenses and preparedness of Caer Guricon, but that is all. If that is not enough, then so be it." Uther rose slowly, stiffly. "I am fatigued, my friend, and though I do not think sleep will come, I will try nonetheless."
Merlin paused, but still Uther did not ask anything. "Goodnight, Uther, I will do all that I can to aid you."
Uther stopped at the oaken door that led to the main stair. He turned and looked at his companion. "Merlin, this is what I ask of you. Promise, should some doom befall me, that you will keep my family safe. I will meet whatever fate God has designed for me, but I would know that Igraine and Arthur and the girls come to no harm. In the last resort, Leodegrance will always offer them sanctuary. And guide Arthur when he is old enough to seek his birthright. Help him as you have always helped me. Promise me you will see to it."
Uther spoke as a man already condemned, and though it saddened Merlin to see him thus, he knew that this was as things must be. Were Uther to try to assert himself by force of might, it is possible he would prevail, yet this success would be fleeting. Merlin wished he could come to any other conclusion, but he knew the truth - that Uther could not now hold Britannia together, not in any lasting way. He was like to pay a great price for a fleeting few years with the woman he loved. "Of course, Uther, I shall protect them all with my life. Though let us not speak as if you are already gone."
Uther smiled warmly. "Thank you, Merlin. It puts my mind at ease to know you will be here for them should I fall. Goodnight, my friend."
Merlin felt pangs of guilt. For many years he had manipulated lords and kings, striving to heal the land. But Uther was special to him. He was tired in every fiber of his being, worn from lifetimes of manipulation. He longed to help Uther, but he knew to do so would likely condemn the young child, Arthur. It is in him our hopes for the future now lie, he thought as he walked silently from the great hall.
In the weeks following Merlin's return there were two assassination attempts. Both were thwarted by Kelven and Eldol, who had tasked themselves to keep the king safe. Indeed, the two were tireless, and at any time of the day or night, at least one of them could be found walking the halls of Caer Guricon, watchfully protecting the king.
They both bade Uther to call in the levy and march to face his enemies, but the king would take no action. King Pellinore was rumored to be involved in the plots, as was King Lot. A messenger had arrived from Urien with assurances of loyalty, seeking permission to take the field against Lot. The ambassador had been sent home with Uther's gratitude, but without leave to initiate hostilities.
Kelven and Eldol begged Uther to take action, but the king would do nothing except place more guards on his family. Always now, there were 100 men on duty at Caer Guricon, and Uther's tireless captains did all they could to protect their sovereign.
The attackers crept to the base of the hill of Caer Guricon in the pitch blackness of a moonless night. It took some time, but they finally found the secret passage they'd been told about. It was open, again as they had been told. There were seventy of them, skilled fighters all, and they had come for Uther Pendragon.
While the assassins crept through the narrow tunnel leading into the heart of Caer Guricon, throughout
the castle, the men of the garrison were, one by one, falling into unconsciousness. Indeed, all who had drunk from the well had become first dizzy, then overcome with fatigue.
Eldol felt the strength draining from his body, and he staggered from his post, seeking Kelven to warn him. Finally, he stumbled through the door of Kelven's chamber and fell to his hands and knees. "We are poisoned. The garrison is poisoned. The well, it..." With that, the great warrior who had slain Hengist fell at Kelven's feet in deep slumber.
Kelven grabbed his sword from where he had set it a few hours before when he'd retired. There was no time to don his armor or aid Eldol. He stormed from the room, raising the alarm and calling to any of the guards who were still able to respond.
Uther, who had become used to lying awake nights, had fallen into a rare sleep, but he was awakened by the banging on the door. "Sire, forgive the intrusion. It is Kelven. We are under attack. The garrison is poisoned. You must come with me."
Igraine was also roused, and she sat up next to Uther, who leapt from the bed and unbolted the door. "Enter, Kelven. Tell me what is happening."
Kelven bowed quickly before Uther, and glanced briefly at Igraine. "My apologies, my lady." He looked back at Uther. "Most of the garrison have been rendered helpless. I fear the well was poisoned. Eldol himself warned me before he too faded to slumber. There are but few men fit for battle. We must get you to safety."
Uther turned to Igraine. "Wake the children. We must get you to a safe place until we can retrieve things." Igraine nodded and jumped to her feet, quickly disappearing through the door that led to the children's rooms.
"What men do we have, Kelven?" Uther was strapping his sword to his waist, even as he spoke.
"I have naught but two guardsman in the corridor, sire, though doubtless there are others still fit. I will find them."
Uther thought for an instant. "Nay, first we must get my family to..."
They were interrupted by Igraine's screaming in the next room. "Uther, I cannot find Morgan. She is gone!" She came running into the room holidng Arthur, with Anna following close behind.
Uther swore under his breath. "Kelven, get my family out of the castle. Take your two warriors and protect them with your life."
"Sire, I cannot leave you." The captain was anguished at the thought of abandoning the king.
"Kelven, obey my commands. I rely upon you in this. I put all that is valuable to me into your hands. Do as I say." Uther turned to Igraine. "Go with Kelven. Take Anna and Arthur. I will find Morgan." He looked into her beautiful emerald eyes one last time and kissed her. Then, he was gone.
Kelven led Igraine and the children down the main stairs toward one of the secret passages leading to the woods. He had resolved to get them out of the castle and then, if he could find none of the Pendragon retainers, to steal horses and ride to Caerleon. The king's family would be safe with Leodegrance.
At the base of the stair they turned left toward a small passage that was normally blocked by a closed portcullis, however the gate was open, and out of it came warriors, one after another. The leader spoke, his voice harsh and thick. "It is the king's family. Take them!"
Kelven sprung forward, swinging his blade with terrible resolve. He slew the warrior closest to him and then was upon the leader, with whom he traded great blows. His two men rushed forward and, for a moment, the three fighters of Powys held off ten times their number. But first one, then the other of Kelven's warriors fell, and the guard captain stood alone. At least ten of the invaders lay dead at his feet, and he bled from many wounds. Yet still he fought. Behind him, Anna crouched in the corner, Arthur cradled in her arms, and Igraine stood in front of her children holding a sword taken from one of the dead warriors.
At last, surrounded and overwhelmed by the numbers of the enemy, Kelven, the great captain of Caer Guricon fell, pierced in a dozen places. He lay on the cold ground, feeling his blood pumping from his body, and in his mouth was the bitter taste of defeat. As he faded to darkness he gasped his last words. "Forgive me, my king, for I have failed thee.”
The enemy warriors glowered at Igraine and Anna. They had suffered greatly in the fight, and while their orders were to take these women prisoner, they thought first to have some fun, for both were exceedingly beautiful. The leader, bleeding from a wound Kelven had given him, stepped forward, and with a great swing of his sword, he knocked the blade from Igraine's hands. He reached a filthy hand to her, grabbing the material of her dress to tear it off when his body froze and an unnatural fear took him. "Hold!" The voice was deafening, and none could disobey the command. There was a blinding flash in the room, and that was the last thing Igraine saw until she awoke hours later.
Uther Pendragon finally found Morgan in the kitchens behind the great hall. She stood near the door to the stairs and in her hands she held a key. On the table next to her was a large flask, now empty.
"Morgan, what have you done?" Uther was relieved to find the girl, but confused as well. "What are you doing here?"
She looked up at him and smiled, and in that instant he could see the face of Gorlois. "I have avenged my father, King Uther." She spat the word "king," pronouncing it with mockery. "I poisoned the well and opened the passage. I have brought House Pendragon down."
At that moment Uther realized what had happened, but it was too late. Enemy warriors streamed into the room from all of the entrances, and Uther found himself surrounded and overwhelmed. He fought with a terrible ferocity, and for a moment it looked as if he might somehow defeat every enemy within reach. But he was wounded, first in the leg, then in the arm, and finally he was pierced through his chest by a great spear. Still he fought on, covered in his own blood, and two more foes he dispatched before the last of his strength was gone and he fell to the stone floor. His enemies were on him, stabbing again and again, making certain their work was done.
Uther felt the first stab, but no more. He was floating now, and images passed before him. Days of his youth, playing in the castle courtyard with his brothers, the first time he had seen Igraine as a woman. Igraine…his hazy thoughts drifted back to Igraine. Is she safe? Was Merlin able to keep his promise to me? Such was his final thought as he at last gave in to the growing darkness and saw no more. Uther Pendragon was dead.
Igraine awoke lying in the back of a covered wagon. For a moment she thought she was in bed with Uther at Caer Guricon, and that she had awakened from a nightmare. But Uther was nowhere to be seen, only Eldol, who sat grimly beside her with his sword drawn and sitting on his lap. Beside her slept Anna. Morgan sat quietly on the other side of the wagon, a small smile on her lips.
"Eldol, where is the king?"
The captain looked at the queen, and in that instant she knew. "King Uther is dead, my lady." Eldol was a grim warrior, who had slain many men, yet tears streamed down his face.
Igraine gasped for air, for her grief was overwhelming. "No, it cannot be so. We had so little time together, my love." She wept uncontrollably. "And Arthur? Where is Arthur?"
Eldol swallowed hard, for he could not bear to say what he must. "The boy is also slain, my lady, and Caer Guricon is taken and burned. The Pendragon have fallen. I take you and your daughters to Leodegrance."
Igraine wailed in agony and heartbreak, and she cursed the fact that she had survived. "How did we escape?” Her voice was agony itself.
"It was Merlin, my lady. He saved you and your daughters from the assassins and bade me take you to Caerleon, to Leodegrance."
Anna had awakened, and she too sobbed piteously and threw her arms around her mother. Morgan just sat quietly in the corner of the wagon, saying nothing. She suppressed her slight smile, and thought to herself, father, I have avenged you.
Merlin walked swiftly from the ruins of Caer Guricon, carrying young Arthur, wrapped in a scrap of cloth. Nowhere will you be safe, young king, for your father's enemies will assail you wherever you are. I must allow all to believe that you are dead, slain in this treacherous attack, or I fear I sh
all be unable to protect you. To the east I shall bear you, to an unimportant place where no one will think to look.
Igraine, poor Igraine, he thought. I must let you believe your son is dead. Truly have I been your bane, though unwittingly so. And again I must hurt you, though it is only to protect your son...and the future of Britannia. I pray that one day you may forgive me for all I have done.
He walked down to the riverbank where the kings and lords had camped so many years before for Constantine’s great council. There he walked up a gentle hillside, at the center of which stood a large outcropping of rock. Merlin carefully laid young Arthur on the cool, grassy hill and took a large canvas sack from under his robe. From the wrappings he pulled a sword. Not just any sword, but the blade of Constantine, Uther's grandfather. The sword of a Roman emperor. The sword that Uther Pendragon had wielded in his wars.
Slowly he walked toward the top of the great rock, careful not to lose his footing on the damp, moss-covered stones. Aloft he held the great sword, and he spoke loudly in an ancient and forgotten tongue. "Let this sword serve none but he to whom it rightfully belongs."
As he spoke the words he turned the sword over and drove the point deep into the center of the rock. Sparks flew all around, but the stone yielded until the blade was stuck deep, held fast in the solid granite.
Merlin pulled on the sword, but though he strained with all his might, he could not budge it from where it was lodged. Satisfied, he gently took Arthur into his arms and walked slowly away. When he reached the edge of the forest he glanced back over his shoulder, speaking softly to himself. "Only a true Pendragon shall remove the sword from the stone." He looked at the young child he carried. "You, Arthur. You shall be king of all Britannia."