The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) (18 page)

'What is your name? I hope we might meet later… at the fortress… the feast?'

'Uther, we really must leave. There is much to prepare before…' Merlyn noticed the girl for the first time and dropped the sleeve of Uther's tunic which he had just taken hold of to gain the King's attention. 'I am sorry, King Uther, my Lady.' Merlyn smiled and stepped back. 'I am sorry, but we do need to be away, Sire.'

Uther cast a despairing look to the girl and took a step backwards to Merlyn, knowing he did indeed need to attend the assembly at the fortress.

'Igraine, my name is Igraine, King Uther, and I am sure we will see each other later.' She called the last of this as Uther was being drawn through the crowd by Merlyn.

'Who is she, do you know her? I haven't seen her before and I'm sure I would have noticed her.'

'Stop grinning like a fish, Uther; it does not become a King. I think you will find she is the wife of one of the visiting lords. Possibly not the ideal choice for you to have desires upon. Possibly the Saxon girl earlier would be a better choice for now… Uther?'

Uther realised Merlyn had been speaking and was staring at him as they walked. He glanced across at the Druid and saw the old Druid was smiling.

'It was you who mentioned I needed a wife,' said Uther a little indignantly.

'Yes my King, but even I did not expect you to act upon my advice quite so quickly.' They were both laughing as they started up the Tor towards the new stone and timber gatehouse to Pendragon fortress. Uther glanced up at the pennons flapping in the breeze and decided he was looking forward to the evening's feast far more than he had been previously. It was indeed, highly probable that the lovely Igraine was wife to one of the tribal leaders, and if that were the case, then so be it. Yet possibly some other explanation for her being here might arise… so why not dream a little… '

As Uther and Merlyn passed through the gates, they could see that the preparations for Samhain were well underway. In the lower level close to the gates, animals were in pens waiting to be slaughtered, eyes wide and agitated. The shrill cries of their agony and distress filling the air to mix with the acrid smell of their blood and piss. Several large fires were already burning so that once the beasts and fowl had been killed, they could be cut apart and the meat cooked.

There would be two main gatherings. Uther, the Lords, tribal leaders and other invited guests would eat in the main hall of the fortress, while those of lesser rank would dine below in the two smaller halls and, with weather permitting, meat, ale and mead would also be served to the villagers who would gather outside within the lower stockade - nobody would go hungry whether they be King, chieftain or warrior, nor even surf or slave on feast days.

At the King's approach, a number of servants came seeking his approval of some arrangement or other. Much had already been completed. Food and drink was being taken care of; musicians would move up from the village later in the afternoon to entertain those within the fortress walls while others would enter the main hall for Uther and his guests. For some time, both Uther and Merlyn were occupied with the chieftains and lords as they passed on reports of what had been happening within the land while they had been away, and so, for a while at least, Uther's mind was distracted from all thoughts of Igraine.

Uther sat in judgement for a number of situations that had taken place whilst they had been away. The Saxons had been quiet for the most part. However, a hall had been burned close to the border with the former Iceni lands, and this was troubling. The Lord, his family, and retainers had all been slain, and when questioned, those who had escaped had claimed there had been a disagreement between the Lord, a man named Budoc, and his closest neighbour, a Saxon from across the disputed border. It seemed that the son of Budoc had been a little too keen to bridge the divide between Celt and Saxon by bedding the Saxon's daughter, a lovely girl by all accounts by the name of Mildritha.

'But why did this need to end with so much bloodshed?' asked Uther. 'Surely this should have been the prelude to a joyous time bringing the people together?'

'Well, Sire, there had been good relations between our people. The Saxon settlers were fair in their treatment with us until this time.' The man who had come to report the crime was dirty from days of travel. He looked miserable, as well he might considering the place he had called home had been burnt to the ground. Two small children and an old woman sniffled and shuffled a few paces behind him.

'My Lord's son may well have put the girl with child… well he did, we all knew that, and then refused to know her. When the Saxons came, they were in no mood to talk as my Lord wished, for as I have said, they had enjoyed a peaceful existence as neighbours before this day. The Saxons came and were deeply angered. They dragged my Lord's son from the hall and killed him in front of all of us that had been woken so rudely from our sleep. And then they set the hall aflame, refusing to allow my Lord and his family to leave… they all burnt, they died a horrible death, King Uther. It was not necessary. I shall always remember the screaming and crying… the pleading from within. It will live with my children throughout their lives I can assure you of that.' The two children began to sob, and he turned to hush them. They ran to him, and he held them close, casting his eyes low as he waited for his King to respond.

'We shall house you here at the fortress and find you gainful work if you wish.' Uther signalled for Sir Ector to join him and the old warrior came and kneeled at Uther's side.

'Sir Ector, at first light, you will send riders to this hall and learn the truth of what occurred there. Discover what happened and then we shall see how we should respond to this attack upon our people.'

'I shall send fifty mounted warriors at first light.' Sir Ector rose and moved away along with the man and his children who were crying as the man gave thanks to his King.'

'Who next wishes to petition the King?' A murmuring went up from the people crowded into the back part of the great hall as the next in line to speak to the King was sought.

Uther wondered how much longer he had to endure this and knew it would be well into darkness before he could begin to relax and take part in the night's feasting. He had asked Sir Ector to allow only the neediest cases to be brought forward, but it still seemed that there was no end in sight.

It was dark with both fires and fire-braziers lit around the hall when the last small group was brought forward. A dispute regarding the ownership of sheep that had strayed onto another man's land. The owner of the sheep claiming there was no confusion, they were his sheep while the owner of a patch of land growing green vegetables, now claiming ownership as his right, his vegetables after all, were now inside the sheep. Uther leant forward in his chair and held his head in his hands. He was feeling tired and bereft of patience at this point. He cared little for the man's sheep or of the other's vegetables, yet he knew they needed a decision from a third party, from him. A system had to be devised to handle these smaller cases. The Lords and Chiefs dealt with such things within their own lands, but many people sought out their King to give a final decision, but these cases needed to be heard by others, by someone else, possibly Sir Ector. He looked up as the sound of sheep bleating came from the other side of the door.

'The sheep remain the property of their owner, however, you are charged to keep them from your neighbour's land in future and shall give him the next lamb born to your flock in payment for his lost crop.'

'But, King Uther…' began one of the men, but Sir Ector raised his voice above the objection.

'Silence! Your King has spoken and given his decision. Leave, and if this is not agreed and finished, then the King shall take both sheep and land, and you shall have nothing… now leave us. The two men backed away and were hastily ushered out by two warriors.

'Are we done?' Uther looked about the hall. There were still a lot of people milling about. Some bringing drinking jugs, horns and clay cups to the tables, while another group looked to be musicians. They were probably waiting until they were told to start playing.

'There are other complaints and problems that can be brought in front of you, King Uther,' said Sir Ector wearily. 'More lands have been stolen, thefts taken place and a lord has just caused a commotion and beaten his wife in public, the Duc of Cornovii, I believe, but I think we can safely allow those crimes and problems to await the morrow, we are finished for today.'

'Good, let the feasting begin. Why did Gerlois beat his wife?' Uther rose from his chair and walked down to Sir Ector. Merlyn joined them, and they moved to stand beside one of the large fires. All three accepted horns of ale from a slave and stared at the crackling logs and smoke that rose up towards the thatch high above.

'I am told he beat her because she strays, my Lord. Not to another man's bed, I understand, but she does not stay by his side as he wishes. It seems she is a woman with a mind of her own.' Sir Ector shrugged, 'I think he is still a little upset by what happened upon the quest. He has already asked that he be allowed to leave with his warriors and servants. I explained that it would be deemed an insult if he were to depart before the feasting had finished and he has agreed to stay, but he is not happy, perhaps he took out a little of his frustration upon his wife.'

'I have not met the lady,' muttered Merlyn as he drank from the horn and then lowered it, smacking his lips with relish at the taste of the ale, 'but I am told that the Duc regularly beats his wife, not something that I can personally approve of, a lord beating his wife as if he were some common serf, but we have no law against it.'

'I do not agree with it either, I find it to be cowardly,' muttered Uther, 'but after our experience with him upon the Isle of Erin, I can believe he is the type to do such a thing. To be honest with you, I find it hard to take a measure of the man. One moment he is our friend and staunchest ally, the next he is cutting the rope that was our lifeline back to the boat, I still believe he cut it despite his protests to the contrary. I also dislike him running, trying to slip out the back door as he did at the Druid's hall and like he is trying to do now.' He held a hand out feeling the heat of the fire upon his palm and stared into the flames. 'Despite all of this, I think I would like to be presented to both the Duc, and his wife. We need to move forward, not backwards. Let us see if we cannot mend both the Duc's reputation, so badly broken upon the quest, and also the marriage that he chooses to disapprove of so publically. It would be best for the tribes if the Duc once more becomes a worthy ally and not a dishonourable outcast.'

Morgana brought the bowl that she had been holding down hard upon the stool, splashing drops onto Uther as he lay prone in his cot.

'An outcast? Dishonourable? And he would not have cut that rope. It is evident that you had already decided my father's fate by this time. You had met and converted his wife, my mother.'

Uther looked up to see that Morgana was trembling with rage, and he could see now that she had been weeping while he had been talking.

'It is true that your father and I did not much like each other, even then. But it is also true that as we began the feast, I only wanted to bring both him, the Dumnonii and the Cornovii tribes back into the alliance.'

'Drink this.' Morgana thrust the clay cup towards Uther until it touched his lips. He was thirsty so he drank, his eyes flickering from Morgana to Maude whom he could see back in the shadows, a worried look upon her face. He flexed his toes and fingers trying to loosen the stiffness that seemed to be taking hold of him, then drank more and looked once again into Morgana's angry eyes. She had her father's eyes he noticed, but the determined look and the crease of her brow was that of Igraine. He felt himself drifting back to sleep, his last vision that of Morgana staring at him with a look of pure hatred.