The Dragon's Banner (16 page)

He rode up the path to the great dark bulk of
the castle and as he reached the top he found the gates closed
tight. Dark figures stood guard on the battlement above the entry
and on the walls.

"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.