The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) (20 page)

'Have you seen my wife, King Uther? But then, how could you, you have not even been introduced to the bitch, so…' He shrugged.

'I am sure you will find that she is in the hall somewhere searching for you.' Uther took the Duc's arm and steered him back towards the sounds of feasting. 'I was told that you had some trouble, some differences with her earlier today?'

The Duc turned to Uther and studied him with red-rimmed eyes, the frown now back in place. 'She is wilful and needs to be disciplined. She can be like a child, wandering the paths upon Tintagel and even going down into the village without proper escort. It is not right, and if you had met her, you would understand.'

'I hope that when I do take a wife, then I will not have need to beat her.' Uther glared at the Duc, and Gerlois scowled back.

'I follow you as my King, and I followed you across the seas on the Druid's fool errand, King Uther, much to my regret, but I do not have to listen when you tell me how to treat my wife. The bitch is headstrong and deliberately irritating. I think I know best how to deal with her and do not need your advice.' He turned on his heels and walked back towards the hall.

Uther glanced towards the shadows where he knew Igraine had been watching and listening, and then made his own way back to the hall, breathing deeply, his fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to release the surge of anger that had risen within him and attempted to think rationally. As he entered the hall, he was in time to see the Duc shouting at one of his men, then snatching a horn of ale. He watched as he swayed, drinking deeply, the ale dribbling down through his beard. When he had drained it, he threw it down and then turned to glare at Uther with a look of hatred and contempt that was barely contained.

Uther avoided him, choosing instead to join Sir Ector and Merlyn where they were already eating from a wooden platter heaped with a variety of different meats. Taking a large wooden pitcher of ale, Uther emptied its contents into first Sir Ector, then Merlyn's proffered horns and finally into a drinking horn of his own, and then banged the heavy pitcher down onto the table to draw the attention of those in the room. Cries of 'Silence for the King,' accompanied hushing sounds and expectant murmurs as all turned towards him.

'My friends, warriors of Britain. I welcome you all to the fortress of Pendragon and to this, our celebration of Samhain.' A cheer erupted, and Uther waited for it to calm. 'We accepted the challenge, we completed the Druid's quest, and we have come home to be amongst our own to celebrate our victory.' There was another cheer and loud drumming as feet stamped upon the floor and fists banged down upon the tables. Uther smiled around at his audience. 'We survived the seas and then we finally survived the Druids and their games…' He turned and raised his ale horn towards Merlyn, who smiled and raised a hand. 'We survived Uath the Stranger and his challenge… although a good man also died. Cunobelin, whom we honour at this table.' He raised his horn to the empty place set for the fallen hero, and a murmur filled the hall. Uther saw people turn in the direction of Duc Gerlois, who still stood glowering and flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol. Before the Duc could say anything or another in the hall should choose the moment to throw a challenge, Uther pushed on.

'We were once many tribes, scattered across this land of ours, kept apart by our Roman masters…' Angry calls and cries of defiance filled the hall, and Uther allowed the anger to build before going on. 'The Romans left, and then the Saxons came to call, seeking to become our new masters, but we rose and became one people, we united to become the Brittani of old, we became Britons.' Shouts and cheering filled the hall as Uther drank from his ale horn. After taking a long draught, he lowered the horn, wiped his mouth upon his sleeve and waited a few moments for the noise to subside.

'We must continue to be strong if we wish to banish these invaders from our lands. We must continue to be one people and show them that there is no future for them here.' Calls of agreement filled the air, echoing down from the rafters above them. 'Help the Saxons understand that this is our land, as decreed by the Gods of old.' He stopped talking and allowed the noise to lessen a little, waited, watching his closest men, the Lords, Chiefs and Elders of the tribes. 'This was no idle quest that sent us to Erin. When the Druids erect the stones at Stanenges, it will allow the spirits of those slain to seek rest, a chance to cross the great river of the dead and enter the Shadowland. It will also bring a new life to our warriors, new strength to their spear arms and a new future for our tribes.' A great roar arose within the hall as the warriors celebrated with their King.

'Before I allow you to return to your eating and to your drinking, let me ask you to take heart in the family of our union and to join with me again in the building of our future. Look to your brothers across these tables, look across the fields, rivers and streams of our land and seek your fellow Britons. Be clear in your friendship and in our alliance. Seek to gather those around you who would bring you strength, aid and friendship and offer them the same in return.' Uther stopped and gazed about the hall, allowing his eyes to come to rest upon the scowling Duc Gerlois. 'You have the birthright and are the strength, the law and the power to lead our people. Each of you within this hall hold positions of great responsibility. Treat your warriors, your villagers, your friends and especially your family well, do not bring them needless pain or suffering, for how you treat them reflects upon you. I salute you warriors of Britain.' Uther held up his ale horn and called, 'For Britain!'

As those within the hall returned the salute and then went back to the important task of eating and drinking, Uther glanced to Gerlois, who he saw was still standing, glowering drunkenly at him.

'I don't think you have made a friend with Duc Gerlois, Uther; he seems a little… upset.' Merlyn poured more ale into Uther's drinking horn and pulled the King around to look at him. 'You shouldn't antagonise him Uther; Duc Gerlois has been changed by our quest. He was not the most pleasant of people before we took to the boats, but now… he suffered much, and he will no doubt cause those under him to suffer in turn. Let him cool down and by the next meeting of the tribes, as we sit around your wonderful round table, much of what took place will have been forgotten.'

'He is not a good man, and he is weak.'

'That may well be, yet he leads one of our most wealthy and important tribes.' Merlyn's face creased into a frown when he saw how angry Uther was.

'He fled the challenge of the Stranger, killed Cunobelin…'

'There were witnesses, Uther… Gerlois cannot be blamed for the death of Cunobelin and as for the challenge he…'

'He beats his wife…'

'That is no crime, to beat a wife. A wife must know her place. You cannot…'

'She was the girl… earlier today. Her name is Igraine, I… I met her.'

'Oh, Uther, this is ill-advised, do not make an enemy of Gerlois of the Cornovii. You are the one who can, and is, uniting the tribes, something many thought could never happen. Please do not begin throwing all that away because a girl took a beating. Forget her, lead your people and you will soon find another girl, preferably unmarried and not yet a mother, to make your Queen… please.' Merlyn held his ale horn up, an invitation for Uther to agree with him, but Uther ignored the offer and glanced back in search of the Duc, but Gerlois was nowhere to be seen.

'My King, four warriors at the main gate, were overpowered, one of them was injured. The Duc and his party have fled, we think they left some time before first light.'

Uther sat up from where he had lain in a deep, yet troubled sleep only moments before and rubbed at his eyes; he felt groggy and thick headed from too much ale the night before. He glanced around, past the warrior standing beside him, and saw weak light seeping through the thatch above, indicating that it was indeed morning. The fire close by crackled and a flame rose into the new sticks the warrior must have placed upon it before waking him. He shivered and drew the sleeping fur higher and thought for a moment.

'Renew the guards at the gate and then send a party of riders after the Duc and his people with a request that they return. We shall ask Sir Ector to lead them. I gave orders that none were to leave until our celebrations here were complete.' He stood up on shaky legs, dragged the fur back around his shoulders, and crossed to the fire where he slumped down on a stool. 'That man is infuriating, he muttered.' He turned to the warrior. 'Please ask the Druid Merlyn and Sir Ector to join me, we need to deal with this properly.'

'Yes, King Uther.' The warrior trotted off, and Uther returned to the fire, poking at it with a stick before throwing on a few bigger pieces picked from a pile close by. 'It would seem that you are forcing my hand, Duc Gerlois, you should have stayed. We would have talked… Merlyn would have made sure that we parted as friends and that I leave any desires for your wife well alone, and perhaps I would have… perhaps, but now I am feeling less inclined to do so.'

Morgana shifted on her stool, unable to contain herself anymore. 'My father aided you; he sent ships on your ridiculous quest and, in an effort to gain your favour he even stood and took the challenge of Uath the Stranger. Just because you took a fancy to my mother, you turned his people against him and murdered him. Of course, he took his people and left. Was it not you who forced him to this point, King Uther? Did he have any other choice? He fled because he knew that you had deliberately brought him to this point, belittled and cowed him in front of his people and all the other tribal leaders… just so that you could satisfy your lust?'

Uther stared up into the shadowed face of Morgana as she sat beside his cot. The light had all but faded from the room and the chill of evening was invading. He heard another noise in the room and glanced across to see that Maude was trying to coax a flame amongst a bundle of twigs in the small hearth.

'No, Morgana, that is not how it was. I began that quest seeking only to bring my people closer together, and that included your father. He was a difficult man. You do not need to take my word for that, ask any who knew him. I thought at first that he was a good man, poorly judged by others, but I was wrong.' Uther tried to sit up and Morgana took his shoulders and lifted him forward roughly, put a bolster behind him, and he sank back gratefully, once more depleted of energy. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again and saw that she was staring at him silently, waiting for him to continue. He tried to find the right words so that she might understand.

'I am sorry, Morgana. I know you must hate me and for so many reasons, but also know that I wanted to help your mother, regardless of my feelings for her. He was beating her cruelly, and not just on that one occasion. Her life was endangered. She pleaded with me to help her, to aid her in getting away from a man who showed her no affection, no compassion. More often than not he just showed her the back of his hand.'

'And so you crushed him, stole my mother away, and I was sent to the nunnery at Laherne.

'I had no part in where you were sent, that pact was completed before I took Igraine to be my Queen. I have done many dreadful things in my role as High King of the tribes. Indeed, for my own reasons, I was also a terrible father to Arthur, my son. But believe me, when I tell you that I took no part in sending you away.'

'We shall see. Sleep, King Uther. Tomorrow you will tell me of the death of my father and the abduction of my mother, for now, you can try to find sleep.'

As Morgana rose and left the cell, the warrior Maude edged closer to her King's side. For a moment she said nothing, she simply gazed down at him and then reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from his brow, then leant down and whispered, her voice a soft breath against his ear.

'My King, I do not trust her. I fear for your safety here. You must try to gain a little strength for I think we must leave here soon. I will care for you properly.' She poured a cup of Morgana's brew into the clay cup, and held it close so that Uther could drink, and as the scent of it filled his senses his mind began to relax.