The Dragon's Banner (10 page)

King Constantine sat at a rough wooden table
as his counselors argued boisterously with each other. He was
silent, listening to all, but his mind was on other matters. Allies
he needed, and more than he now had. For his spies had confirmed
Merlin's greatest fears. The Saxon invaders and the northern Picts
had both allied with Vortigern, and they would take the field in
the spring. Against this rising force there was no hope, not unless
added strength be found.

The council had ended just as Constantine had
expected, with half-hearted commitments and grudging cooperation.
More diplomacy would be needed before the alliance was a reality,
but he was confident that all six would join him in the end.
Indeed, they had few options, for all he had said about them being
crushed one by one was true.

At the far end of the table sat Merlin,
impassive and unreadable, as silent as Constantine himself. The
counselor, wizard some said, had returned just after dawn. Two
weeks he had been gone, for he had departed Caer Guricon the
evening the great council ended and had not been seen until that
morning.

The rancorous debate between his advisors
became too much for Constantine, for his patience was strained and
the pain in his body was torturous. Finally he could take no more.
"Out! All of you begone, for you wail like women!" They looked at
him, suddenly silent, most of them frozen with stunned expressions
on their faces. Constantine leapt painfully to his feet and howled
again, even louder. "Out, I said. Now! Leave me, or by God I shall
send all of you to hell!"

The shocked counselors hurriedly rose and
scrambled for the door, knocking over chairs and dropping sheaves
of parchment in their haste. Merlin merely sat quietly, though he
couldn't suppress a slight grin. "You may be ill, my old friend,
but you still rage as well as ever. I fear that you have aged them
all a decade this morning."

Constantine's rage abruptly gave way to
amusement, for he could not stifle a small laugh at Merlin's
remarks. "Indeed, and I fear I shall regret it, for they were
bumbling old fools already. Were they ten years older, gone
entirely would be their minds." The king fell back hard into his
chair. "Lighter is my heart that you have returned, my trusted
friend, for I fear I shall have great need of your help."

Merlin rose and walked across the room,
stopping before Constantine. From his robe he pulled a large vial
filled with a sickly green liquid. "Let my help begin then, with
this." He gently placed the glass vessel on the table. "I have
journeyed deep into the ancient forests to find the plants I
sought."

Constantine took the vial in his hand and
looked at it for a few seconds. "What a revolting potion. Does it
taste as bad as it looks?" He pulled the cork and took a sniff. "Or
as bad as it smells?"

Merlin placed his hand softly on the king's
shoulder. "'Twas not your palate I sought to appease, good friend.
Take you this potion when you rise and before you retire each day,
for it will ease your pains."

"My thanks to you, Merlin, for I shall have
such need of what strength I can muster."

Merlin smiled warmly at his old friend. "I
promise that you shall once again mount your horse and lead your
warriors into battle. Though I fear that you will indeed curse my
name when you taste it."

Constantine laughed at Merlin's jest, and a
coughing spasm overtook him, though just for a moment. When he
recovered he spoke, his voice strained but clear. "You know me
well, do you not? Again, my thanks to you. If it banish my weakness
I shall relish anything, even your foul-tasting elixir."

"Constantine, know you that this is the limit
of my abilities, and though it is enough to give you relief for a
time, I have not the power to heal what afflicts you. The time you
gain is but borrowed, I am afraid. Indeed, when this potion has
exhausted its strength you shall find yourself weaker than
before."

The king looked at Merlin with a grim smile.
"Worry not, my friend. Well-resolved am I that this will be my last
adventure. My time grows short, for unlike you, I have aged with
the passing years."

Merlin's eyes seemed for a moment to be
gazing dreamily into some unseen visage, though where his mind
drifted, Constantine knew not. "I have aged too, my dear friend,
for once even Merlin was young and the world seemed a great mystery
to unravel. Many trials have I weathered since those days, and
bitter struggles have I endured. My time nears its end too. Indeed,
I can feel the changes in the world, and I know not what lies
ahead. I too awaken each day to weariness where once it was
excitement. But this struggle we shall share, good King
Constantine, and together we will do what we must to save this
troubled land."

Constantine smiled, but it quickly gave way
to a frown. "And what we must do now, is to draw Gorlois into our
alliance. Without his strength added to ours, I fear we have no
chance. Unless Uther brings back aid from the empire there is no
other ally to be had. And we both know that Uther's quest is
hopeless. We had to try, but I think there is little chance for
success."

"I think you are correct, and I too believe
we must have Gorlois fighting with us. Indeed, all the more so for
he is the one lord to whom I can imagine Vortigern extending an
offer. His lands are far south, and Vortigern could offer him
handsome conquests and yet still rule most of Britannia. Alliance
with Vortigern offers more to Gorlois than we can match, yet it
compels him to trust in his new ally after the rest have fallen.
And after we are no more, there would be little to stop Vortigern
from overrunning the south as well."

Constantine had a sour look on his face.
"Gorlois is an untrustworthy, foul-tempered, and course man, but he
is no fool. He will not ally with Vortigern, for he knows he shall
retain what he is given only so long as his new friend needs him.
My fear is he will wait too long pressing us for the best terms,
for his greed is great, and indeed exceeds his wisdom. We must
forge a true alliance with him rather than a hasty arrangement.
Long has he sought recognition as king of Cornwall, and that we
shall offer him on behalf of all of the monarchs of the
alliance."

Merlin nodded. "Indeed, you would use his
vanity to ensnare him. For such an offer gives him naught that he
does not already possess in every practical manner. He rules
Cornwall as a king, he calls himself such, yet he craves that you
and the other kings do so as well. Of course, a title will not be
enough. He will want lands, gold, some type of reward."

Constantine frowned again. "No doubt he will
have further demands, but he has long wanted the recognition. Once
it is offered, he will be easier to treat with. And I shall try to
bind him to my kingdom beyond a simple treaty."

"A marriage? Indeed, we have spoken of this
before." Merlin paused to see if Constantine was going to propose a
candidate. When the king remained silent, Merlin took a breath and
continued. "I was thinking of Lord Elisedd's daughter, Igraine. For
he is one of your highest and most loyal vassals, and his daughter
is a suitable choice. An ideal one, in fact, for she is quite
beautiful."

Constantine looked up and slapped his hand on
the table. "Ah, Igraine. She is beautiful indeed. You think Gorlois
will desire her when he sees her, and be thus more pliable. Indeed,
perhaps we can add lust to vanity on our list of diplomatic
tools."

Merlin looked down sadly. "It will be a
bitter fate for the girl, for Gorlois is foul and callous. I fear
her married life would not be a happy one."

"She will do her father's bidding.”
Constantine’s tone was suddenly imperious. "Just as Elisedd, her
father, shall do mine. If this is the price she must pay that we
may save Britannia, then so be it, for is it a greater sacrifice
than that of the warrior who dies on the field? She is a lord's
daughter, and if she marries Gorlois her son will be a king. It is
a good marriage for her, loftier than she might have wished
for."

Merlin was still hesitant. "Still, though you
are right, I still cannot help but grieve for a young girl so
consigned. What must be, must be, but I am saddened by the choice.
And what of Uther?"

Constantine looked up, surprised. "What of
Uther? What has my son to do with these matters?" Merlin looked
down and was silent for a moment, as if he was considering what
next to say. "Merlin?" Constantine repeated himself impatiently.
"What of Uther? Of what do you speak?"

Finally, Merlin let out a deep breath.
"Constantine, I believe that Uther is quite fond of the girl. Of
Igraine. He snuck down to her father's camp to see her several
times during the council, though he thought he did so unnoticed. He
went on the voyage at your bidding, but I feel he has intentions
toward her when he returns."

"That boy has never shown interest in any
woman beyond bending a serving wench over a table. Now he thinks he
will just pick a wife from among my lord's daughters?” Constantine
was annoyed, and the topic brought to his mind recollections of
past arguments with his youngest son. “No. I shall not see my
alliance falter over some infatuation of Uther's. No doubt he will
happily drown his sorrow with the smith's wife or the cooper's
daughter, and that will be the end of it."

Merlin fidgeted uncomfortably. "My friend,
Uther and you have ever been at odds, but there is more to the boy
than you now see. There is great strength in him, of character as
well as body. He shall play a greater role in what is to come than
you believe."

"He is my son, Merlin, and he has the
strength of the Pendragon. Think you I would have sent him to the
empire had I doubted that? If Uther wants a wife I shall find him a
suitable one, but it shall not be Igraine. For you would not have
suggested her were there other options. For Gorlois we need a bride
of great beauty who is closely tied to my house, yet of noble
enough birth to appeal to the man's vanity. There is no one
else."

"It is true." Merlin spoke sadly. "No other
option could I see, for I would not have suggested Igraine were
there. But I fear that Uther will be more deeply troubled than you
believe. Indeed, I feel as though I betray my friend, and yet this
we must do, lest all fall to the usurper."

"I shall send for Elisedd and Igraine at
once. Ambassadors I will dispatch to Cornwall on the morrow. If all
goes well, we shall travel to Tintagel Castle as soon as can be
arranged. Thus I, who have claim to the high kingship, shall
journey to Gorlois, still but a duke, for I shall put aside my
pride and rights of precedence. It shall be more than just Uther's
lusts that are sacrificed for this alliance. I pray we can bear the
hardship that is coming, for it will weigh heavily on all of us
before morning comes again."

Merlin nodded, and the two sat silently, for
each was lost in thought. Finally, Uther called to his chamberlain,
bidding him send word to Elisedd that the king wished to see him
and his daughter. And he called for messengers to deliver his
letters to Tintagel Castle.

"Father, I beg of thee, no! I pray thee, do
not consign me to such a fate." Igraine's voice was piteous as she
beseeched her father. Her face, normally beautiful, was red and raw
from her tears, and her magnificent hair was a hopeless, knotted
tangle.

"Daughter, stop this foolishness at once. We
are bound to do the king's bidding; you know this. He has commanded
the betrothal, that if Duke Gorlois accept his alliance, the
marriage shall bind the houses in treaty and friendship. Gorlois is
to be recognized king. Indeed, my daughter, you shall be a queen,
and your son shall rule all of Cornwall. 'Tis a wonderful match,
above that which I could have arranged for you."

Igraine whimpered miserably. "But father,
there is another who has my heart."

Elisedd turned abruptly and started at his
daughter. "What do you mean, daughter? For I have given my blessing
to no suitors. Of whom do you speak?"

Igraine was silent, head turned to the
window, her watery eyes staring listlessly at the landscape. It was
a fine early summer day, and the sun was glistening off of the
golden fields. Yet Igraine saw only darkness. They were guests in
the castle tower at Caer Guricon, and she looked down by the river,
where her family's camp sat just a month before.

"Daughter, you will answer me." Elisedd's
tone was more forceful this time.

Without turning to face her father, Igraine
spoke softly, barely above a whisper. "Lord Uther, father. It is
Lord Uther that I love."

"What has happened? Are not the serving
wenches and village girls enough for the young lord's fancies that
he must play with the heart of my daughter?"

Igraine turned and looked at her father.
"Nothing has happened, father." She tried vainly to hold back more
tears. "After Lord Uther visited us in our camp he returned and
spoke with me. Three more times he came to see me, and long we
spoke. I have his heart as well, father, I know I do."

Elisedd's anger had flash hot, but now it
waned, and he walked over to Igraine and put his hands gently on
her shoulders. "Igraine, you are my only child. In your eyes I see
your mother looking back, bidding me to watch over you. Since she
was taken from us, you are all that is left to me, and I have
indulged you. Anything would I do for you, yet this is the duty of
your station. There is naught either of us can do to change this
destiny."

Igraine was silent, though she looked up at
him, and in her eyes he saw terrible, aching sadness. He opened his
mouth to continue, yet no words would come. Finally, he continued,
his voice broken and halting. "My sweet daughter, Lord Uther may
not even return, for he is on a perilous journey."