The Dragon's Banner (27 page)

Even as Hengist struck his blow, Saxon
warriors poured into the room from every entry, axes and swords
swinging wildly as they fell upon the unarmed Britannic lords. The
melee was brutal, for men facing death will fight savagely, though
drunk and unarmed. The table was overturned with a loud crash, and
all around the hall, with chairs and dinner knives and silver
goblets...and even with bare hands...the victims fought futilely
against their attackers. But their effort was in vain, and surprise
and superior arms quickly put an end to things. When it was done,
every Britannic lord in the great hall of Canterbury was dead.

Hengist looked over the room, now a
blood-soaked wreck. His voice was firm, though his hands shook and
his heart beat rapidly. "Collect their heads. We will deliver these
to King Uther when he arrives and make our peace. These men were
the last of his enemies, and by our hands they have been
defeated."

In the courtyard, and in the fields around
the stronghold, Hengist's men streamed from hidden spots and
attacked the retinues of the lords, which were camped all about the
walls. Some of the defenders were able to arm themselves, and the
battles raged for a time on the hillsides around Canterbury. The
Britons were incensed at the treachery and fought for their lives
with elemental savagery. But they were outnumbered and overmatched
and, while they made the Saxons pay a price, they were soon wiped
out.

Hengist's plan had been a complete success.
Vortigern and his allies had been taken by surprise, and they were
no more. Now he had to deal with Uther Pendragon.

It was late morning as the army of Uther
Pendragon emerged from the forest path and began to surround
Canterbury. In the van rode the high king himself, with his veteran
horsemen from Powys and the best of the heavy cavalry of the other
contingents. They were followed by the forces of each of the kings.
First were the levies from Powys, and behind them the troops of
King Leodegrance of Cameliard. Next was King Urien, leading the men
of Rheged, veterans hardened in the brutal early battles against
the Picts. Then came King Rience, whom no one liked or trusted,
leading the forces of Gwynned. King Pellinore marched next in the
procession, and behind his warriors of the Isles came Vortiporius
and the contingent from Dyfed. The men from Cornwall followed, and
in the last position was King Lot, mostly healed and returned to
the field, with the soldiers of Luthien.

The army had conducted many sieges and
assaults, and they quickly took up their positions around Hengist's
stronghold. Uther had declared that, once again, no quarter would
be given, so they did not bother with heralds or messengers. But
there was surprise among the host as the gates of Canterbury
opened, and an embassy emerged, flying before them a flag of
truce.

At first, Uther would not hear their
entreaties, for he was set in his decision that none would be
spared among those warriors in Canterbury. But Merlin prevailed,
and the king agreed to admit the ambassadors. He would not ride out
to meet them nor appoint his own emissaries to do so. If they would
speak to him, they would come to his tent and trust to his honor
regarding their temporary safety.

Uther sat upon an oaken seat at the end of
his tent, with ten of his greatest warriors arrayed around him.
Among those present were Leodegrance, Urien, Caradoc, and Merlin,
and these all stood silently along the side of the tent, watching
the proceedings.

Hengist had sent two of his closest advisors,
and these were accompanied by six warriors, carrying three large
wooden chests. One of Hengist's ambassadors waved for the soldiers
to set down the boxes then he turned and bowed to King Uther. He
was tall and broad, with long hair and a beard, which had once been
blond, but were now mostly gray. "The most honorable greetings to
the High King Uther. I am Aric, and I am come to treat with your
majesty. My master, King Hengist wishes me to express his deepest
respects to you, great king, and his most profound regrets that we
have fought as enemies in this war."

Uther did not move or even glance over at the
visitors. He sat impassive, like a statue hewn from marble, and his
response was icy. "We need not have fought against each other had
your master remained in his homeland. But he chose to invade this
nation, and once here to proclaim his allegiance to a foul usurper.
For this his condemnation is decreed, as is such for all who have
followed him. You may now leave us, so that you may prepare to meet
your doom in such a way as seems fitting to you."

Uther waved his hand in dismissal, but Aric
bowed his head and again spoke. "King Uther, I beseech thee to
receive these gifts, which my master has sent to..."

"I desire no tribute from your master. The
time for such niceties is long past. I bid thee one last time, go
now while still I am willing to allow it." Uther turned his head
and glared at the emissaries with a gaze so withering even his own
men quaked at the sight of it.

But Aric remained steadfast, though his voice
was wavering and his hands shook. He waved for the warriors to open
the chests, and he reached into one and pulled out a small bundle.
"Behold, High King of Britannia, the head of your enemy, Vortigern.
This is the gift of my master, as are these..." - he pointed to the
other chests - "...which contain the heads of all of the lords of
Britannia who had sworn loyalty to the usurper."

There were gasps of shock throughout the
room, though of them all, only Merlin had actually seen Vortigern
before. Uther glanced at his advisor, who acknowledged the king's
unspoken question with a small nod. This was indeed the head of
Vortigern.

Aric stood expectantly, awaiting Uther's
reaction. When it came, he was utterly unprepared for its ferocity.
The king leapt to his feet, yelling with a level of cold hostility
beyond anything the emissaries had ever experienced. "What thinks
your chieftan?" - Uther would not grant Hengist the title of king,
even just in speaking - "That treachery wipes away treachery? These
lords and kings were marked to die, but by the lawful judgment of
the high king, not by the deceits and trickery of a barbarian
warlord."

Uther walked toward Aric until he stood but a
few feet from the Saxon, who cowered before the will and onslaught
of the king. The men at arms moved to follow Uther and to place
themselves between him and the enemy warriors, but he waved them
back forcefully. He stared directly at Aric and continued his
withering speech. "Could Hengist truly believe I would treat with a
heathen invader because he slew these men? He has but added to his
crimes, for though Vortigern was my enemy, Hengist was sworn to his
service. Your master is a betrayer and a traitor, and he is fit
only to be devoured by the crows. Go now and be gone, for this is
my last mercy. Go to your chief and tell him to prepare, for his
end is upon him."

Uther gestured to the warriors along the back
of the tent, and they moved forward, drawing their swords. Aric and
his companions bowed low and hurried out of the tent. Once outside,
they ran back toward the fortress, seeking the relative safety of
the walls before the king changed his mind and slew them at once.
Uther turned to face his advisors, his face contorted with rage.
"Assemble the troops. We attack at once."

All along the walls of Canterbury, the
scaling ladders of Uther's men were raised, and warriors climbed
quickly to the battlements. Atop the walls, the defenders pushed
down ladders and dropped rocks on the climbing soldiers, but the
ferocity of the attack had unnerved them, and their fragile morale
was quickly broken.

Near the main gate, Uther Pendragon himself,
ignoring the pleas of his advisors and men, climbed one of the
ladders and was the first to reach the top. On the battlement he
fought like a man possessed, throwing three Saxons over the edge
and felling two more with deadly sword strokes. Behind him came
Caradoc and next Kelven, and once atop the battlements, these three
great warriors slew all who came against them, while their comrades
poured up the ladders and into the fortress.

A similar scene took place a few hundred
yards down the wall, where Leodegrance and Urien led their men in a
ferocious charge, taking one of the towers and opening the
secondary gate. The armies of Cameliard and Rheged poured through
the captured entry and into the main courtyard. In the slowly
fading light they slaughtered all who stood before them.

Throughout the corridors and towers of the
massive stronghold, men battled viciously in small groups. The
defenders tried to flee, but they were everywhere pursued by
Uther's men, and the orders of the high king had been clear. The
Saxons fought with the desperation of doomed men, but they were
overwhelmed, and by nightfall every defender in the keep was slain,
save those barricaded in the last tower.

Atop that tower, surrounded by his last few
guards, was Hengist, self-proclaimed king of Kent. Once the leader
of 10,000 veteran warriors, the Saxon chief was now trapped in the
last bastion of his stronghold with barely a score of men. His plan
to negotiate had failed utterly, and in his final moments he was at
a loss to understand. Uther Pendragon was the most coldly
relentless force he had ever encountered. In his last desperation
he muttered softly to himself. "What drives him with such brutal
resolve?"

Hengist leaned out the window and looked down
to the base of the tower. The attackers had battered down the door,
and Uther's men were pouring inside. His mind raced, but he could
see no way to escape his doom. Octa was not in the room. He must
have fallen, Hengist thought, fighting on the battlements. I will
be with you soon, my son. He girded himself and drew the greatsword
from his scabbard. He wore a mail shirt, but no helm, for on his
head was the crown of Kent. He would die as a king.

The men in the room, scarcely two dozen,
waited silently, weapons drawn. Within a few minutes they could
hear fighting outside, and then the sounds of something heavy
banging against the great oaken door. Finally, the door burst off
its hinges and fell to the floor inside the room. There was a loud
thud as the attackers dropped the stone column they had used as a
ram, followed by shouting from both sides as Uther's men stormed
into the room and the melee was joined.

The doorway was narrow and in the confined
space of the room it was some time before the attackers' numbers
began to tell. The Saxons fought with the ferocity of men with
naught to lose, and they made the Britons pay dearly for the
victory. In the center of the room fought Hengist, and he had
struck down half a dozen enemies. Finally, Eldol, one of Uther
Pendragon's champions, strode up to the Saxon chief. The two
engaged in a great battle, as all around them more warriors poured
into the room. Hengist's men were losing their desperate fight.
Other Britons had rushed to take Hengist from behind, but Eldol
called them off, for he was determined that the Saxon leader would
be his tribute to his sovereign. At last, when there remained but a
handful of defenders standing, Eldol's broadsword found its mark.
Hengist, chieftan of the Saxons and would-be king of Kent, fell to
the floor, mortally wounded.

When Uther entered the room a few moments
later there was not a live Saxon left. His men began to cheer,
first in the room where the last defenders had fallen, then in the
stairwell of the tower. Soon the entire army was chanting Uther's
name. Amid the growing din, the high king praised Eldol for slaying
Hengist, and proclaimed him a lord of Powys.

Then he strode down the stairs, past the
shouting soldiers and out into the courtyard, waving as he walked,
acknowledging the acclaim of the army. This is what it must have
been like for my grandfather, he thought, when his army proclaimed
him emperor. Yet Uther felt no joy beyond the grim satisfaction
that he had completed his task. Now he faced the true burden of the
high kingship, for he must maintain the loyalty of the kings when
they were no longer faced with mortal peril from outside. This, he
suspected, would prove more difficult, and he hoped the firmness he
had displayed in the war would stay the hands of would-be
traitors.

The men had gathered and lit bunches of straw
or sticks, and the seething, joyful mass turned into a torchlit
procession that followed Uther out through the gates and back to
camp. Though the king himself soon retired to his tent, the lords
and men sang and drank well into the night. The war was over.

The victory at Canterbury had been complete.
Indeed, only two warriors escaped from the fortress. Octa had been
knocked from the wall early in the battle, and while the fight
raged he was lying unconscious, half buried in straw. When he
finally woke, the battle was almost over, and he could see it was
lost. Let me die in arms, he thought, as he prepared to run toward
his father's tower, even then being assaulted. But he did not
charge out as he willed himself to do. Whether it was good sense or
cowardice or the desire to live to gain revenge one day, none could
ever know. He slipped quietly into the keep and down the stairs to
the hidden passage that led out of the fortress and into the woods.
Though Hengist did not know it when he breathed his last breath,
his dynasty lived on.

The other survivor had escaped before Uther's
men even reached the fortress. Vortimer had plunged into the melee
in the courtyard the previous night, joining his father' ambushed
men. Though he fought well, he was soon overmatched and knocked to
the ground, and his last recollection was a sharp pain in his head.
When he awoke he was in the forest, slung over the shoulder of
Wendel, one of his father's most loyal soldiers. A giant, almost
seven feet tall, Wendel was wounded multiple times and covered in
blood. Yet still he had managed to escape the keep and carry
Vortimer to safety before he finally fell to the ground. Vortimer
crawled over to aid his benefactor, but the big man's wounds were
obviously mortal, and just a few moments later, he died. Vortimer
sat long next to his body, and there was but one thought in his
mind. Revenge. Against Hengist and his traitorous race. And against
Uther Pendragon.