The Dragon's Banner (23 page)

Merlin took his cup into his hand, and Uther
speared a small game bird with his knife, dropping it onto his
plate before picking up his own goblet. He was about to drink
deeply when Merlin, after suddenly putting his own goblet down,
leapt up and slapped the cup from Uther's hand.

Uther stilled his instinctive reaction at
being struck. "Merlin, have you gone mad?"

"Nay, my friend." Merlin’s reply was
breathless. “More than wine could I smell in my goblet. Essence of
thorn apple. Though it has been many years since I have sensed that
slight fragrance. Deadly poison, my dear friend. Too impatient to
face you in the field, someone has struck at us in the heart of
your stronghold, seeking to win the victory without a battle."

Uther looked at his counselor in stunned
surprise, and was about to speak when Merlin noticed Huarwar
lurking behind the doorway. At Merlin's glance the valet turned and
started to run. "It was Huarwar."

Uther jumped to his feat. "Guards, bring me
Huarwar, now! I want him alive." He turned back to Merlin. "And now
you have saved my life by your uncanny senses. My thanks to
you."

"And saved my own, as well, for it seems we
were both targets of this assassination. Huarwar may be the tool
employed, but there is no doubt that Vortigern is the puppet
master. Nonetheless, I am surprised. Long has Huarwar served this
house, and with great dedication. I would not have looked his way
seeking a traitor. And thus, of course, did Vortigern also divine,
for who better as an assassin than one whose loyalty was
unquestioned."

It was but a moment before three guards
dragged the terrified valet before the king. He was limping and
bleeding from the mouth where two teeth were missing. The men at
arms threw him to the floor in front of Uther and stood behind him
with swords drawn.

"He is unarmed, sire."

Uther looked down on the prone, whimpering
form of the valet. He was shocked, for the man had served his
father for many years, and he could not imagine what had driven him
to treachery. He was about to speak when Kelven, the captain of the
guard came rushing into the hall.

He knelt just inside the entryway. "My lord
Uther, I have just heard of this treachery. That such an act should
occur under my guard. I am shamed my lord and deeply sorry. If you
wish to dismiss me I understand."

Uther ignored the prostrate Huarwar for a
minute and looked over at his captain. "Kelven, you have served
this house for many years. Indeed, it was you who first taught me
to wield my sword." He walked over and put his hand on the Kelven’s
shoulder. "Ever shall you be part of the Pendragon, my friend, for
we would be diminished without you. This treachery went unnoticed
by all. Indeed, it is only by Merlin's skills that we were spared.
Now rise, captain, and we shall deal with this matter."

The king turned and walked back to the table,
followed closely by Kelven. Uther's expression was emotionless as
he looked down at the cowering servant, but there was murder on the
captain's face. "Huarwar, why this treachery? Always have you been
well-treated by my family."

The valet looked up at the king, tears
streaming down his cheeks, but though he struggled hard he could
not bring words to his lips. After a moment he looked away, unable
to return Uther’s gaze any longer. Uther spoke again. "Huarwar,
your life is forfeit for this act. Would you meet God with such a
monstrous sin burdening your soul?" The valet remained silent,
hunched over, staring at the polished stone floor. He made no sound
but that of his piteous sobbing.

"Huarwar!" The voice was Merlin's, but there
was an authority and coldness in it no one present had ever heard.
Such was the power of that voice that even Uther was taken aback,
and he said nothing and only watched his friend as he faced the
treacherous valet.

"Stand, now and face your deed," said Merlin,
and in his tone was the iciness of death. Huarwar looked up at him
dully, his face smeared with blood and tears, and slowly he rose as
Merlin commanded.

Merlin turned toward the guard captain,
handing him a small bottle filled with a yellow liquid. "He is to
drink this, Kelven. See that he takes it all and that none is
spilled."

The captain motioned to the guards and two of
them grabbed Huarwar's arms and held him fast, while the third
pulled his head back and pried his mouth open. Kelven walked over,
pulling a small stopper out of the bottle and pushing the vial into
the valet's mouth. Huarwar choked and struggled, but he was held
fast by the guards, and Kelven made sure every drop of the viscous
fluid found its way down the prisoner's throat.

"Now, Huarwar." Merlin's voice dripped with
ungraspable menace. "You will tell us all you know about this
treachery. Who bade you commit this deed?"

Huarwar's face was utterly blank, as if his
mind were wiped clean. He answered in a soulless monotone.
"Vortimer, son of Vortigern commanded me to poison King Uther and
the counselor Merlin." There was no emotion in his voice.

Merlin remained impassive, but Uther began to
stiffen with rage. He remained silent, though, and allowed Merlin
to continue.

"Why did you accept his command? Did he offer
you gold?"

"Nay, my lord." He spoke in same lifeless
voice. "He holds my daughter captive, for his raiders captured her
as her party rode to her wedding in the north."

"And he threatened her?"

"Yes, my lord. The first time he sent me her
ring to prove she was captive, but this time they severed her
finger and sent it to me. I was ordered to poison the king and
Merlin, or they would torture and kill her."

"The first time?" Merlin's voice was harsh,
demanding. “What do you mean the first time?"

"When they commanded me to poison King
Constantine. Many months did I put the drops in his wine goblet,
though I was not always able to do so. That potion was different
than this one. Long did it take, for they wished all to believe the
king was ill and failing."

The room was silent, for everyone present was
stunned by this news. Kelven's face was twisted in anger, and his
body shook with the desire to break the neck of the treacherous
servant. Uther was calmer, yet colder, his expression resolute and
feral, as if ready to calmly cut Huarwar's throat without a
word.

But it was Merlin whose expression was
grimmest, for he slipped from his questioning deep into his own
musings. Constantine, he thought darkly, blind must I have been,
for I did not see in your ills this treachery. Indeed, had I been
less blind you might still be alive. Forgive me, friend, for I too
am old, and my powers fail me.

Huarwar stood unmoving, still looking forward
as if in a trance. It was Uther who finally broke the silence.
"Long has treachery worked against us in this fight." He looked at
Huarwar, though the valet was still staring blankly at Merlin. "No
more need I hear from this traitor. Take him away."

Uther watched the guards drag the valet's
limp body into the corridor and out of sight. "Tomorrow we march,
and all shall be redressed. The final battle is soon at hand, and
we shall repay our enemy in full for his perfidies. God grant the
Britons freedom and my soldiers victory. And for me..." He paused
briefly. "For me I ask only vengeance."

Caer Guricon was a large town, its wattle and
daub buildings surrounded in some places by an old stone wall, but
in most with a wooden stockade built by Constantine after he gained
the throne. The town was built all around a steep hillside, and at
the peak was Uther's stronghold, built on the remains of an old
legionary fortress. This day buzzards flew low over the
battlements, for hanging in a cage from the rampart was Huarwar,
not quite dead, but soon a meal for the scavengers.

At dawn, the great gates swung open, and out
marched an army. Part of an army, for the rest was forming in the
fields all around the town. First through the gate, mounted on a
massive horse as black as obsidian, was Uther Pendragon, King of
Powys and High King of Britannia, his raiment as dark as his
hellish steed.

Alongside Uther rode Merlin, clad as always
in his plain gray robes and riding a white horse that contrasted
strongly with that of the king. Next came Uther's nobles and
leaders - Kelven, captain of the guard of Caer Guricon, carrying
the flapping blue and silver colors of the Pendragon; Caradoc,
Visigothic noble and Uther's close friend; Elisedd, one of the
great barons of Powys, and father of the king's lost love, Igraine.
They were followed by all the lords and barons of the realm.

Next rode the lesser nobles and the men at
arms, each contingent carrying both the banner of their own lord
and that of the king. Finally, four abreast came the foot soldiers,
commoners mostly, their spears and battleaxes held aloft as they
marched. When the last supply wagon and laden mule passed through
and the gate closed, Uther was already nearly a mile away,
approaching the old east-west Roman road.

But the warriors of Powys were only a portion
of Uther's strength, for after they marched down the road, the
armies of the other kings formed up from their many camps and
followed. First, the warriors of Cameliard, led by Leodegrance
himself, his red banner flying high next to Uther's blue flag.

Next came Gareth, Marshal of Cornwall,
leading the nobles and levies of Gorlois, their yellow and green
pennants whipping wildly in the early morning wind.

Following them were the combined forces of
Rheged and Luthien, for King Lot had been trapped in his
stronghold, grievously wounded, when Urien rescued him. Many old
feuds were settled that day, and Urien now led the combined armies
of the northern kingdoms to follow Uther wherever that road may
lead.

Next came King Rience of Gwynned, who was a
troublesome member of the alliance and frequently argued with the
others. But Uther spoke with him privately one day, and he became
pliable and cooperative. None but the two kings ever knew what
Uther Pendragon said that day to his unruly ally.

Pellinore, leading the men of the Isles came
next, and following his forces, the army of young King Vortiporius.
There was bad blood between Pellinore and Vortiporius, but neither
would dare defy King Uther, so they put aside their disputes and
regarded each other with cool respect.

When the last of Vortiporius' levies from
Dyfed marched down the road through the woods and out of sight of
Caer Guricon, Uther was two hours and four miles distant, riding
down the road heading east.

Twelve thousands marched with Uther
Pendragon, all of the assembled might of the free Britons, for the
final battle was near at hand, and great were the forces arrayed
against them. Grimly they marched, for all knew what they faced and
what was at stake. Their morale was strong despite the strength of
the force arrayed against them, for they followed Uther Pendragon,
the great warrior king. Death incarnate they imagined him, and it
was said he'd killed over 100 men himself in this war.

Over the past twelve months, Uther had fought
four battles, and though each was a complete victory, none was
decisive. Only a tithe of the enemy's strength did he face in each,
and while he instilled in them fear of his skill and ruthlessness,
still they had under arms force greater than his. Finally, Uther
had resolved to march east and one by one assault the strongholds
of Vortigern's minions until he compelled them to meet him in the
open field.

Now they marched to Barwick, capital of the
kingdom of Elmet, the northernmost of Vortigern's remaining client
states. He proposed to take the stronghold of Masgwid, the king of
Elmet, and burn the city to the ground. "I will make the east
howl," he had said, "for they have joined with the invaders and are
the blackest traitors." No force could dare face Uther except
Vortigern's combined armies, so the usurper would either have to
give battle, or see his allies destroyed one by one. For none could
stand alone against Uther Pendragon and his warriors.

For ten days the army marched, through
blazing heat and driving rains, and on the eleventh they camped on
the outskirts of Barwick. They would attack at dawn. No siege would
there be, declared Uther to all his host. They would assault the
walls and not fall back until the town was theirs. At dawn the
attack would begin. They would sup that night in Masgwid's castle
or not a man would return. Such was the decree of Uther
Pendragon.

Vortigern paced angrily before his allies and
nobles. "Barwick! Taken in one day. One day! And Masgwid burned
alive by that madman! Now east he marches, to Eboracum, so as to
destroy the Kingdom of Deira as well as Elmet."

The usurper had raged all morning, for he had
only just learned that his assassination plot had failed, and that
Uther had marched the very next day, intent upon revenge. It was
Vortimer who had told him. "Father, I fear that Huarwar has been
caught and that Uther and Merlin yet live."

Vortigern had raged at the news. "That
incompetent fool! He shall find that failing me has its
consequences. His daughter - give her to the Saxons. I trust they
will not be overly troubled that she has only nine fingers. They
are to take her and pass her from one to another while she yet
lives, and then her body is to be delivered to Uther's camp. Let
them see what awaits their women and families when we have defeated
them!"

Now, mere hours later a single messenger
arrived from Barwick, and that one only because Uther allowed him
to travel south with tidings. To add insult to injury, the courier
had been branded with a dragon on each cheek. So angry was
Vortigern that he slashed the envoy's throat himself then ordered
his vassal kings and lords to assemble.

Now they stood before him, and he continued
his rant. "Are you all afraid of Uther Pendragon? You had better
be, for he comes for you...all of you. Best you rally your men and
prepare to fight like demons. We are going to march and face this
young conqueror, and you do not want to lose that battle. Do any of
you think you can throw yourselves on Uther's mercy? Ha! For he has
no mercy. King Masgwid, old and infirm, he had dragged screaming
from his great hall and burned at the stake. If you go to King
Uther you go to your own pyre, for he has sworn to slay all who
have opposed him."