The Dragon's Banner (17 page)

"Alone we are now, Merlin. So what plans have
you that cannot be shared with the council?"

"A plan I do have, and while I trust the
council to a point, also I doubt not that Vortigern has spies, even
in Caer Guricon. That all of your brothers were taken at
disadvantage and slain seems to me too much to grant to fate alone.
I would bid you to be cautious in whom you place your
confidence."

"And can I trust you, Merlin?" asked Uther
plainly.

"Thus do you speak like a true king, my
friend." There was weariness in Merlin’s voice. "Yet do you truly
doubt my friendship and loyalty?"

Uther looked down at his feet. "Nay, Merlin.
All my life have you been there for me. Yet so much has happened,
and I know not whom I can trust. For fear as well as disloyalty can
sap the strength of my army." Both were silent for a moment, then
Uther glanced at his companion. "So what is your strategy,
Merlin?"

"There are opportunities for deception as
well as battle. For you have just returned, and though no allies
were you able to find, your foes do not know this. From the coast
you rode to Cameliard, and on your way you assailed and destroyed
several of the enemy's raiding parties."

"This is true, Merlin, but no more than six
or seven score did we slay. And, indeed, we were outnumbered in the
largest fight."

Merlin placed a hand on Uther's arm. "Ah, but
put yourself in the enemy's place. The only remaining heir with a
claim to the high kingship has returned, for surely by now
Vortigern is aware you are back. He lands, with what allies or
forces you know not, yet along his march, all of your forces have
been wiped out where before they ranged without hindrance. What
might you think? What fears would grow on your mind?"

Uther listened attentively, for he began to
divin Merlin's plan. "Deception…that must be our weapon here and in
the south. Yet can we truly convince the foe that we leave strength
enough here to meet him and still march with enough power to
relieve Carlisle?"

"It will place a heavy burden on
Leodegrance," said Merlin, "for he is one of those you can trust
with the truth, and I fear great risk will fall upon him as he
plays his part. For you, yourself, will certainly need to go north.
The army is demoralized, and only you can restore its spirit.
Leodegrance you must leave behind to hold Cameliard and Powys."

Uther stood silently, thinking, grasping at
the threads of a plan. "Caradoc." he finally said, more loudly than
he had intended. "A Visigothic nobleman I have with me, and his
guard. Though the warriors we have left behind in Caerleon. A
friend he is, and sworn to my service. They be but ten in number,
but might we not create an army of Gothic shadows, come to our aid
under Caradoc, the great Visigothic prince?"

"Indeed, such was my thinking. This is the
tool we shall use if this Caradoc be willing. We must begin
immediately, for your friend must be heralded as a great visiting
prince. Vortigern's spies we shall enlist to our aid, for no doubt
they will quickly report of this foreign lord welcomed into Caer
Guricon. He must be included in councils, and there must be much
talk of his army. We will present his few men as a personal guard
and but a fraction of his total strength."

Uther smiled grimly. "This plan could work, I
daresay. For Caradoc is of noble bearing, and he will be easily
accepted as a great prince. We shall use this deception to
forestall the enemy in the east and south while I march to Carlisle
with the levies of Powys and Cornwall." Uther's smile left him as
he spoke of Cornwall, and Merlin understood, for he knew the great
price of this aid. Silently they stood together, and Merlin knew
what dashed hopes Uther now pondered.

"Uther, I would ask something of you…that you
will do as I bid you and not ask of me any questions."

Uther looked confused, but he nodded at once.
"Merlin, with my life I trust you. What is it you would have me
do?"

There is a small house in the town, just off
of the main road past the orchard. It is recently whitewashed,
while all the others around it are dark-stained wood. Know you of
what I speak?"

"Yes, I think so. I believe I have walked
past the house before."

"Then I bid you meet me there, just after
dusk when darkness comes. Do not delay or knock on the door. Just
enter. And let no one know where you go."

Uther did not understand why Merlin would
make such an odd request, but he knew the old man did nothing
without reason, and he had promised not to question. "Very well,
Merlin. I shall do as you request."

Merlin just smiled briefly and nodded.

Uther returned the nod. "But now, I shall go
and speak with Caradoc, and enlist his aid in our plan."

Uther slipped out of the castle just after
dusk, taking a secret passage known only to a very few. Although
Merlin had not asked him to disguise himself, he decided that
discretion was probably wise. He wore a simple gray hooded tunic,
with only a small dagger for a weapon. With the hood drawn over his
head he made his way through the town, finding the house of which
Merlin spoke. Looking around him and seeing no one, he pushed open
the door and walked inside.

Standing in the room was Merlin, and next to
him a slim figure clad much as Uther himself was, also with a hood
drawn. Uther gasped when two small, pale hands reached up and
pulled back the cloak to reveal Igraine's face.

Merlin spoke, his voice gentle and sad.
"Uther, Igraine, I deeply regret that your destinies have demanded
such painful sacrifices from each of you. I would, if it were in my
power, release you from your fates, and pray you might find
happiness together. Alas, there is naught that I can do, save
perhaps grant you a brief time together, that you shall not be
totally denied each other. This night only shall you have, and I
promise that none shall disturb you nor discover your secret. You
are safe tonight, but come the morn, your time together must be
ended. Just before dawn shall I knock three times on the door.
Uther, you must then leave and return to the castle. I will bring
Igraine back to her chamber, and none shall know she was ever
gone."

He slipped quickly through the door and was
gone, leaving Uther and Igraine alone, with only the flickering
light from the hearth illuminating the room. Igraine stood
nervously, looking at Uther, but saying nothing. Uther knew he
should leave, but no force of will could he muster that was strong
enough to move him. Merlin, he thought, I know not if this be an
act of mercy or a dagger in the heart, yet I am grateful.

Finally, he could restrain himself no longer
and, walking hurriedly across the room, he embraced Igraine, her
lips urgently meeting his as she fell into his arms. Afterward,
Uther could not remember how long they just stood in each other's
arms, though he never forgot the feeling of her lips or the scent
of her hair.

Slowly, he unbuttoned her tunic, letting the
loose garment drop to the floor, and he took her into his arms,
carrying her to the bed. For that night they belonged to each
other, and the dismal fate that awaited them did not exist. They
did not sleep, for fear they would lose a moment together, and as
the night grew old they lay quietly together, savoring the warmth
of each other's bodies. They spoke little, for what could they
speak of but that which the morrow would bring?

When the three knocks on the door came, Uther
had been waiting, and yet he felt as though his blood had frozen.
Their last moment together was heart-rending, and Uther held her
tightly, as if he could push away fate as long as his grip remained
strong. Finally, with a last gentle, lingering kiss, he left her
wordlessly.

After Uther had slipped out, Merlin waited
for a moment to give Igraine time to dress, and then he entered the
room and led her back to the castle. By whatever wizardry Merlin
possessed, they walked back into the castle unseen, slipping
through the secret entry and up to Igraine's chamber. Her ladies
still slept, and whether it was providence or Merlin's machinations
that made them slumber so soundly she never knew.

"Thank you, Merlin," said Igraine softly. He
voice was sweet, yet in it was great sadness. "For though my fate
is a bitter one, now Uther and I shall always share a part of one
another. You have given me a memory to sustain myself, whatever
this cruel life brings."

"Sustain you both it shall, for whatever
befalls you, know that Uther Pendragon loves you as strongly as you
love him." Before he left, Merlin reached into a pouch in his robes
and handed Igraine a small vial, glass worked with delicate gold.
"Drink this in a goblet of wine at your wedding, and do not forget.
It will not harm you, but it will make you bleed, and by this
Gorlois shall believe that you were still a maid in your marriage
bed. For never can he know of this night, or that you love Uther
Pendragon."

Igraine took the vial and bade Merlin
farewell. As he closed the door behind him she lay on the bed,
clutching the small bottle, and began to cry.

Gorlois, duke of Cornwall, and his entourage
rode through the main gate of the castle at Caer Guricon to horns
blowing celebratory fanfare. He was in good spirits and spoke
cheerfully with his advisors, for on the morrow he would be wed to
the beautiful Igraine, and then he would be acclaimed king of
Cornwall, and be so recognized by the seven kingdoms of the
alliance.

The ceremonies were originally to have taken
place the past spring but were delayed when war erupted in the
north and east. Initially, Gorlois had demanded that all seven
kings be present to accept him as one of them. He had long been
resentful of their unwillingness to recognize him as king despite
the fact that he wielded greater power than all save Constantine.
After months of diplomacy, he had relented, for the kings were in
the field with their armies and unable to attend. Parchments he had
from all, attesting their assent to the agreement. All save Urien,
who was besieged in his capital, and Lot, far to the north and cut
off from Powys by the enemy armies.

In the one of the minor halls sat Uther
Pendragon, totally silent, his face like carved stone. In a chamber
in the tower lay his father, King Constantine, the architect of the
alliance. But Constantine now faced his final struggle and, too
weak to stand or even speak more than a few words, he had ceded
control of all affairs to his only remaining son. Now Uther was
charged with welcoming Gorlois and presiding over the wedding and
other festivities...and sending the woman he loved away to Cornwall
as another man's wife.

He was alone, for he had chased the terrified
servants away and ordered his counselors to leave him. But now it
was time to greet his guest in the great hall. Uther rose slowly
from the heavy oak chair, his legs leaden. His face showed no
emotion, just deadly resolve in those steely gray eyes as he walked
silently out into the corridor and made his way to the great
hall.

Uther stood in the courtyard of the castle at
Caer Guricon, his vassal lords and allies standing in a rough
circle around him. The day was gray and overcast, with a brisk wind
that made the bitter cold all but unbearable. The lords were clad
in heavy fur cloaks and thick winter boots, yet all shivered in the
deep winter chill. All save Uther Pendragon.

Uther stood like a statue, impervious, it
seemed, to cold or discomfort, clad all in black save for the blue
and silver Pendragon arms emblazoned on his tunic. Under his mail
shirt, hidden from view, was a silver ring with a blue sapphire,
hung from a chain about his neck. His gray eyes were cold and
emotionless, and the features of his face were as chiseled
marble.

"We march tomorrow. Have your contingents
ready, for we set out at dawn." His tone was cold, imperious. A low
mumbling sound arose from the assembled lords, not so much a reply
as a ripple of discontent. Uther paid it no heed and turned to
leave when one of the lords mustered the courage to speak.

"Lord Uther," - for though he commanded as
regent, his father still lived and he was not yet king - "always
shall House Pendragon command our loyalty, yet I must ask you to
reconsider this command. You allow us to leave only one man in ten
to defend our estates, and when we return it may be to wasted lands
and burned castles. And you insist that we march out in mid-winter
on short notice and ill-supplied. How many will perish from the
cold?"

The voice was that of Lord Arven, a
troublesome sort, wont to seek advantage whenever he could. Uther
turned his head, and his ice cold gaze fell on the complaining
vassal. Arven stood fast, but cringed under that deadly stare, for
whatever they thought of their young heir, all here gathered had
seen him in battle.

"It is decided, Arven." Uther spoke with grim
finality. "The time for debate is passed."

Uther started to turn his head to leave when
the stubborn lord protested yet again. Those around him who had
seen Uther's stare leaned away nervously and prayed for him to be
silent, yet Arven would not be stayed.

"Lord Uther, I cannot consent to leave my
estates unprotected and allow my men to die by the roadside in the
winter snows. Allow us to leave one man in three, and delay this
march until spring, and we shall follow you anywhere. But I shall
not blindly march to my ruin." Arven stood defiantly, having worked
up his courage to take this stand.

The lords near Arven cringed, for they
expected an outburst of rage and invective in response to the
rebelliousness of the vassal. Yet Uther was silent; not a word
passed his lips. He merely stood, still as death for a long moment,
and then, in a motion so quick no eyes could follow it, he pulled
his sword from the scabbard and swung the blade with deadly effect.
So swift was the blow that Arven had not the time to gasp before
his head was struck from his body and fell into the new fallen snow
in a shower of blood.