The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2)

by C. M. Gray

  Turning back to Merlyn he slapped the old Druid's face. 'Oh, Merlyn… come on, wake up, breathe!' He slammed his fist down onto Merlyn's chest and then almost fell off the stone when a skinny hand raised and caught his arm before it could impact a second time. The Druid jerked upright and coughed a lungful of seawater into Uther's face.

  'Ugh, Merlyn… you're alive.'

  Darkness enveloped them once more, the Druid coughed, made some gurgling choking sounds and then Uther heard him throw up before making ragged gasping sounds. Lightning flashed, and Merlyn was suddenly staring at him, a frown creasing his face. 'Very observant… why were you were going to hit me?'

  'Well, not really hit you. I thought you were nearly dead; I thought it might help.' Uther was beginning to feel more fool than hero for saving Merlyn. 'I found you and dragged you here. You might have died if…'

  'How are we going to get back on the boats? Why did you drag me here and not onto the boats? Oh, Uther, did you think about…?'

  Uther dived over the side and reached for the rope leading forward to the boat it was attached to. 'Stay there; I'll send someone back for you.' He didn't wait for an answer but started to pull himself along the rope towards the boat that was somewhere ahead in the darkness. If the Druid fell off the stone then so be it. He was such an infuriating and most ungrateful old man.

  Two days later, the worst of the storm had passed, and the boats were sailing under a grey, leaden sky with no sight of land, but, at least, it had stopped raining. Every person on board was exhausted, soaked to the skin and extremely cold. Gerlois had claimed that the rope must have become fouled. That he had tied it to the bench and even tried to pull it in when Uther had not come back, but it had been severed. There was little point in Uther pursuing the matter further while at sea, but he vowed to know the truth of it when they returned.

  Looking around the boat, Uther saw warriors shivering, their faces white, drawn and tired. He knew it was a matter of urgency to get somewhere that they could dry out, eat and rest, but that didn't appear to be likely anytime soon. The wind was still strong; the sea continued to be rough and controlling the boats was still difficult, but they were underway and being sure to keep some distance apart. With the might of Lir's storm now mostly abated, they could, at least, raise the sails and then man the oars in changing shifts. Uther requested a count be made of the boats, and they discovered several were missing, either lost to the storm or driven so far off course that they could not be seen. He prayed to the Gods that it was the latter and that the stragglers would rejoin the small fleet closer to home.

  It was on that second day after the storm, as the light was leaching from the sky and the chill of evening was dropping over them once more that the cry came from one of the other boats that land had finally been sighted. For all they knew, it could be any part of the coast of Britain or even the land of Frankia, or because of the storm they may even be looking at another part of the Isle of Erin, but thankfully it was land. They sailed towards it until darkness claimed them once again and then the fear that they might be driven onto a reef or a rocky coast forced them to hold off. A cold, desperate night was spent waiting for the first signs of daybreak.

  The hours of darkness were indeed long and testing, as, unable to sleep, each warrior faced their inner demons as they listened for the sound of breaking waves in case their boat had ventured too close to the rocks, or they had been drawn back out to sea away from the hope of the voyage ending. Eventually, a weak, wet dawn slowly greeted them, revealing that they had not drifted and, in fact, were just a short distance from the coast. White-crested waves were breaking upon low cliffs and rocks, making them glad they hadn't tried landing at night and wary of approach even during daylight. Heading north, they sailed along the coast until around the middle of the day they sighted a settlement built just a short way above a rough stony beach. A few small boats were drawn up above the tideline. It was shrouded in the smoke of its own fires and appeared at first that the occupants had deserted the place upon seeing the approaching boats. They dropped their anchor stones, and Uther sent a small group ashore. After some time, the warriors came down to the beach and called out that the people were there and were coming out of hiding, and that this was indeed the coast of Britain. It soon became evident that they had arrived on the shores of the wild region of Cymru; just half a day's sail south of Ynys Mon, the Island of Mona, home of the Druids.

  The cluster of twelve, small dwellings had been named Llangelynin by its occupants, or that is what the warriors claimed to have heard because the people were speaking a dialect with which they were unfamiliar. They were a poor, suspicious group who had hidden when the boats had arrived and in fear they were being attacked by raiders, which apparently had happened before. They caught fish and farmed small patches of the rocky soil and seldom saw visitors. When they knew there was no danger, a small group of men and women, trailed by a collection of grubby children, emerged to sit on the beach and stare open mouthed at the boats.

  Merlyn claimed he would be able to speak with them and so went ashore to negotiate the barter of both fresh and smoked fish. After replenishing their water skins, the men pulled hard upon the oars, rowing into the cold northerly wind in search of Ynys Mon, to deliver the stones that, despite all attempts of the God, Lir to reclaim them, were still floating behind the boats.

  At first, Uther thought the Druids would be pleased; or at least they should be he reasoned, but then Uther was never sure with Druids. The boats arrived at a small bay, guided by Merlyn, and the stones were untied and pulled in until they touched the tideline of the beach where they immediately sank. Four old Druids appeared and watched the whole thing from high on the beach without offering any help or sign of welcome. They were all dressed in the familiar grey robes, carried staffs that they leaned upon and had long hair and beards, or three did because the fourth was an old woman. Uther raised a hand in greeting, but they did not respond. Nor did they move to do anything with the stones, they just left them there, which was a little disappointing to all of the warriors who had been waiting to see how they would be lifted or floated up onto the land.

  'Are we not welcome here, Merlyn? Those four aren't making much of an effort at greeting us.'

  'Uther, you are not a Druid, therefore, you do not see a welcome because you are correct, you are not welcome here, this is sacred soil.'

  'That seems just a little ungrateful, don't you think, Merlyn? We did go all the way to the Isle of Erin to bring these stones back for them.' Uther stared at the four, and they stared back at him. 'How are they going to get those stones up to Stanenges?' He glanced at Merlyn and Merlyn merely stared back at him. 'You're not going to tell me are you? You Druids might want to work on that, how people perceive you. With this attitude, let's just say, I'm not so keen on accepting any more Druid quests,' - he poked Merlyn in the ribs and the Druid stepped back, a look of genuine surprise on his face - 'and like it or not, the Druids are in debt to me. In fact, you, Merlyn, are in debt to me.' He turned around and addressed his men, raising his voice so that the Druids on the beach would be able to hear. 'We are leaving. The Druids don't want us to see their tricks, and they don't seem happy with their gifts.' He waved at the stones and stared up at the Druids, but they were obviously unmoved and just continued to watch the boats. Then the old woman squatted down and relieved herself, unconcerned that the three old men were beside her, or the boatloads of warriors on the beach were watching. She just pissed, pulled grass out of the ground and watched as the wind blew it away.

  Uther turned back to his warriors in frustration. 'I thank you all for joining and enduring our quest, it has been a success, and we shall join together for the celebration of Samhain. We have stories to tell our friends and families who wait for us, so let us sail for home and then we shall feast and drink mead and ale!'

  And so the boats set their sails for what Uther hoped would be the final time. As they slipped away, he looked back and saw the Druids were now walk
ing down to the stones. He watched them pick up sticks and driftwood and then as the figures became too small to see, he saw a plume of smoke as they lit a fire ready for whatever rituals were necessary to deal with their burden. He turned and shrugged, determining to give them or the stones no more thought.

  'Druids,' he spat. 'It is as well that we do not know more of their ways for I am sure it would not sit well with us.'

  Sir Ector laughed and walked to the oar bench ready to take a seat. The day was warming, and the sun had somehow found its way through the clouds, it was good to be going home and if Merlyn had calculated correctly, they would be arriving promptly as the Samhain celebrations were getting underway.

  Chapter 15

  Igraine

  The return to the village of Outhgill, at the foot of Pendragon Tor, was a far better experience than their reception upon Ynys Mon. News of the quest's return had run ahead of them and by the time Uther led his warriors into the village the Samhain celebrations were already underway and a large crowd was ready to greet them.

  It was a sunny, pleasant day, if a little chill. An autumnal wind blew leaves from the trees and promised colder weather was not far away. Banners and pennons were fluttering from trees, huts and halls, the wailing of pipes and the steady beat of a drum filled the air and people were laughing and dancing. As Uther's party entered, a great cheer went up, and children, friends and families ran to welcome the King and his warriors home. For some time, laughter, tears and shrieks of delight filled the air, drowning out the sounds of the music. Uther greeted a few people and then looked on, happy to be back, happy for his warriors, but also acutely aware that he had nobody close to him to run up and embrace him, to welcome him home. It wasn't the first time he had felt this way.

  He stood beside Merlyn and watched with a smile upon his face as Sir Ector held his baby daughter and hugged his plump, blonde wife. His small son was bouncing at his feet and calling plaintively to be picked up, and Uther smiled as Sir Ector reached down and pulled his son close. All around them, similar scenes were taking place.

  Uther felt a wave of emotion wash over him. It was at times like this that he felt the loss of his parents and of Cal most keenly. His parents had died when his village had been raided by Picts, and his childhood friend, Cal, who had been the only other survivor of that terrible day, was now nearly eight years dead, killed by a Saxon spear. The only other person he had known as long was Nineve, Cal's younger sister, who was now leader of the Druids, but she hadn't shown herself for several years, and then, of course, there was Merlyn. He glanced at Merlyn, who was beaming happily, dancing oddly to the music the way all elders seemed to have a knack of doing, as he waved to children. Uther sighed and walked on into the crowd, feeling both happy to be home, but also a little sad. He determined to shake the feeling off and celebrate being back from the quest.

  He passed a group of jugglers and tumblers who were performing, mostly going unnoticed as the homecoming continued. Two of the jugglers were spinning knives, passing them back and forth while others were tumbling, spinning and turning, shouting loudly and clapping to try and gain people's attention and draw them over.

  People from the fortress had seen their arrival and were coming down to welcome the King and his party. Uther instructed some men to go back up to bring ale casks and skins of mead. He accepted some bread and meat from one of the slaves who was carrying a large platter and noticed that she was a pretty girl. She became aware of his appraisal and turned back, smiling before walking away. He smiled in return and felt himself blush self-consciously, but continued to watch her. She had blonde hair, similar to Aethelflaed, wife to Sir Ector, Uther mused. He lost sight of her in the crowd and sighed. Aethelflaed was Saxon, so perhaps the girl had been captured on a raid; there were a number of Saxon slaves working at the fortress, he would seek her out later.

  'You need a wife.'

  Uther glanced over to his side to see who had spoken and saw Merlyn grinning at him.

  'Oh, I'm sure you would like to arrange me a match that the Druids would approve of, Merlyn, but I shall choose my own wife, thank you very much.'

  Merlyn gave a little laugh, shook his head and walked away.

  As Uther passed a small group of chatting villagers, two warriors pushed past and quickly apologised when they realised whom they had jostled.

  'Begging your leave, King Uther, there is a dog fight being organised down by the river and we're told one of the bulls will be baited there before it is taken up to the fortress to be slaughtered.' The man was grinning in anticipation of seeing the entertainment: 'You should come.' A female warrior pulled on his arm and dragged him away, laughing. 'Sorry, King Uther,' she called back to him, then turned to her companion and Uther heard her hiss, 'The King doesn't want to come see the dogs with the likes of you!' He watched them as they ran down towards the river hand in hand, laughing together, he sighed and walked on.

  Outhgill was filling with more people all the time as servants and slaves continued to arrive from the fortress carrying food and ale, and word of the celebrations reached smaller communities in the outlying areas. There was no point in feeling depressed, there would be time for a family, and for Saxons and Druids later, for now, it was just good to be back amongst his people.

  The sound of shouting caught his attention and he looked over to see people gathering around a man standing high up, on a tree stump. Behind him was the familiar crude wooden cross. He was calling out urgently for people to gather around to hear his message. Uther realised it was one of the travelling Christian priests, attempting to gain converts no doubt. He decided to listen but to stay some distance away to hear what the man was saying.

  '… follow the Lord Jesus, for forgiveness can be granted for all of your sins. By the grace of God and his Son, our Lord, who suffered for you upon the cross, cast aside your wickedness, your evil ways and…'

  It confounded Uther that anyone would listen, he glanced about, but people were. Just a small group but they were listening, and he could see that the priest already had a following, a sad looking collection of people mostly dressed in rags, showing colours of different tribes. They stood behind the priest and were hanging upon every word that he said with strange smiles and nods of understanding.

  '…born to the Blessed Virgin, our Lord healed the afflicted and brought forth miracles in the name of God our Father. I say to you, turn away from your life of sin, do not worship pagan Gods for there is only one true God. Follow the Lord's path with us…' Uther decided to move away. He was still not sure why, but he didn't much like these priests and their nailed God. He didn't trust them, and part of him wanted to go so far as to have them thrown out of Britain to spread their faith elsewhere. He knew that the Saxons had little use for them, but like here they were still tolerated for the most part. There were enough Gods here already he reasoned, especially with the ones the Saxon's had brought with them, one more wouldn't count for much, but he knew the nailed God of whom the priest spoke was jealous of other Gods. He knew these priests claimed that theirs was the one and only God and that all the others, that everyone in the tribes had grown up so closely with, simply didn't exist, which was absurd.

  Merlyn walked over and took his arm, guiding him away from the priest and his audience.

  'You don't want to listen to that, Uther. If he gets to the bit where there is a ghost it will only confuse you, it does me. There are so many Gods, ghosts and spirits, but those fools will tell you there is only one, can you imagine that, only one! And even if you are able to limit your imagination to that, then know that he doesn't treat his people very well as far as I can see, except for a few of the fatter priests I've seen that is.' Merlyn drew Uther away towards where a group of Lords and Chiefs were gathering before they would head up towards the fortress to meet before the feast. They were watching a small group of dancers, girls trailing ribbons with flowers in their hair. Uther and Merlyn stood to the side and waited for the dancing to end.

  'Now,
I will grant you that our Gods can be a little cantankerous at times, just look how upset the God, Lir, became when we took his stones,' - Merlyn's eyebrows were raised as he looked to Uther, sharing the memory of the storm the God had brought forth - 'but we also have Gods who bring us healing, luck and honour. Spirits and sprites inhabit every grove, every pool, pond and meadow. I ask you, how can one God accomplish all those things?'

  'Who is that?'

  'Who is who?' Merlyn, spun around trying to see who Uther was looking at.

  'There… going past the jugglers over there.' Uther pointed and started to walk, with Merlyn doing his best to keep up beside him as they pushed through the crowd searching for whoever Uther had seen.

  'A girl… she's wearing a blue cloak with a lighter blue gown beneath…' He glanced around, 'did you see her?'

  'With all these people? No, Uther, I did not see her, but I'm sure if you are meant to meet her then…'

  'There she is,' interrupted Uther, and pulling the hood of his cloak over his head; he dashed on through the crowd trying to keep the blue gown in sight.

  He found her watching some children as they danced and laughed around a small band of players. The musicians, two of whom were blowing upon pipes while another beat a rhythm on a large tabor, seemed quite happy to have the children to entertain. Uther stood some distance back and studied the young woman, being careful not to be seen by any of the group lest he should have to approach and introduce himself before he was ready. And she was, he realised, a young woman and not the young girl he had first thought, but she was beautiful for these few years, not despite them. Indeed, he realised, one or more of the children dancing so gaily may well be hers; he felt a twinge of regret that she may be both a mother and a wife to another. She was smiling and clapping her hands, unaware of his attention.