The Dragon's Banner (22 page)

"I can have him seized now, father." Octa was
brave, but young and impulsive. "He is within our castle and few of
his own guards are present. We could be rid of him and the threat
he poses."

Hengist frowned at Octa's reckless
suggestion. "Don't be a fool, my son. You must think before you
act. Still we must face Uther Pendragon and the kings of his
alliance. A mighty warrior he is, and he will drive us into the sea
if he may. No quarter does he give, nor does he compromise with
foes. There can be no peace with this king; either he must be
defeated and destroyed or we shall be. And he has able allies.
Leodegrance, whose army slew your uncle, Horsa. Caradoc, the
Visigothic prince. Urien, another warrior-king who cleared the
north of Vortigern's allies after Uther broke the siege of his
capital.

"The Britons allied with Vortigern are vital
to us, for I fear we could not defeat King Uther without their
numbers added to our own. And fighting alongside Uther is Merlin,
who they say is a wizard of great power. No force have we to face
the conjurings of a sorcerer. We must have Vortigern to deal with
Merlin. Perhaps Vortigern's schemings will even work, and Uther and
Merlin be slain in their stronghold by an assassin's blade.”
Hengist paused, and a wicked smile formed on his lips. “First we
must face these foes. Then, once Uther's army is destroyed and
Merlin defeated, shall we deal with Vortigern. Then all of
Britannia shall be ours."

Vortigern walked through the corridors of the
ancient stronghold that Hengist had claimed as his castle. Like
most everything in Britannia that was strong and lasting, it had
been built by the Romans. Indeed, some said that the original fort
had been constructed by Caesar himself, when first the legions set
foot upon the island.

He continued out into the courtyard and
through the main gate, for he had set this meeting to take place
where none of Hengist's men might listen. Alone he followed the
winding trail that led down from the hilltop stronghold, and soon
he was walking through the light woods in the valley below. In
about ten minutes he came upon the large black rock that was his
marker, and he turned left and followed a much rougher pathway
through the trees and the sparse undergrowth. Finally, he could
hear the sounds of a stream and a small waterfall ahead, and he
knew he was close. At last, he thought, for my legs are leaden and
they ache with pain. As he turned the corner he saw the meandering
stream, fed by a four foot high waterfall, and standing on the bank
waiting was a man who could have been a younger version of
himself…his eldest son, Vortimer.

Vortimer held his hand up in greeting. "Hail,
father. I have waited long for you. Were there problems?"
Vortigern's son was clad in a black tunic over a chainmail shirt,
and on his breast was emblazoned the red hawk, his father's device.
His brown leather boots were covered with mud, and a large
greatsword hung from his waist.

"Nay, my son. None other than bolstering
Hengist's courage, for like all our lords, greatly does he fear
King Uther."

"I do not trust these Saxons, father. I feel
that only ill will come of alliance with them. And now we have made
this pagan a king? Over a Britannic domain? Is this wise? Will it
not hinder your relations with the other kings?"

Vortigern smiled. "Worry not, my son, for I
trust our Germanic friends no more than you do. Indeed, a good deal
less than you, I would say, for I have lived among them for some
time, and I know their ways. Or rather, I trust them to behave as I
expect, which is treacherously. But we need not worry about that
now, for they cannot face Uther alone, and they are terrified of
Merlin, whom their fears have made into the Devil himself. They
will make no move against us until the armies of the alliance are
destroyed and Uther Pendragon and Merlin are put to the sword. And
before the Saxons can strike against us, I shall already have dealt
with them. No pagan barbarian shall rule as a king in my
Britannia.” Vortigern’s voice was confident, though it was clear he
was also fatigued.

"But now, Vortimer, I have a task for you,
for I would again make use of our friend in the court of Caer
Guricon. Uther has likely maintained his father's staff, so perhaps
we can poison the son as we did the father. Indeed, I would have
both Uther and Merlin dealt with by these means if it can be
arranged."

Vortimer looked surprised. "Huarwar will be
too afraid, even if he is still the king's valet. And though he
aided us against King Constantine, it was only because he had no
choice. Likely he worships Uther as much as all they seem to now.
He will refuse."

"He will surely refuse.” Vortigern spoke
darkly, his tone malevolent. "Unless we motivate him as we did
before. Still we hold his daughter, do we not? And was this not the
means of securing his aid against Constantine, whom he was also
unwilling to betray at first?"

"Yes, father, but we agreed to release her
after he aided us, and we did not do so. He will not trust us
again."

"No, my son, we agreed to release her when
House Pendragon had fallen and I ruled all of Britannia. That has
not come to pass, because Uther has proven to be a worse threat
than ever his father was. Now we will alter Huarwar's bargain, for
our misfortune is his also. He must poison Uther and Merlin, though
now we have no time for slow-acting potions. You will send him
this," - he withdrew a small vial from the sleeve of his robe and
handed it to Vortimer - "for it is deadly. Just a drop in each of
their wine goblets and the deed shall be done."

Vortimer took the flask and looked at it
thoughtfully. "Do you believe he will do it?"

"Indeed I do, my son. Because we will leave
naught to chance. Last time we sent him his daughter's ring as
proof we held her. Now, let us add to his fear and motivation. This
time, along with this vial, shall you send the finger upon which
the ring once rode."

Vortimer smiled coldly, for he enjoyed cruel
work. "I shall attend to it personally."

"Huarwar's message is simple.” Vortigern
looked at his son as he spoke. "If Uther and Merlin die, poisoned
by his hand, he shall be rewarded with much gold, and his daughter
will be released to him at once. If he should fail us, then his
precious child shall die, and in such torment as he cannot
imagine."

"I will send the messenger at once, father.
If all goes well, we shall be rid of Uther and Merlin within the
fortnight."

Vortigern rubbed his hands together. "And
without them this alliance shall wither, and we shall defeat them
with ease. All of Britannia shall fall under my high kingship, to
which you will one day succeed. Go now, and see this task done that
we might complete our victory."

Vortimer bowed to Vortigern. "Fare thee well,
father." He turned and followed a path heading north through the
woods, and in a minute he was out of sight.

Vortigern remained for a few moments, staring
at the waterfall and the crystal clear stream, but seeing neither.
Lost he was, in old thoughts and memories. Constantine, he thought,
you have cost me a lifetime of delay, but now finally my victory is
at hand. The last of your line shall I now extinguish, and for all
time my house shall rule Britannia.

Caer Guricon was an armed camp. As far as the
eye could see from the battlements of the citadel, the hills and
fields were covered with the tents of soldiers. They were arranged
in rough clusters, with plain canvas shelters surrounding the
colorful pavilions of the kings and barons. Uther looked out over
this sea of armed might with grim satisfaction, for soon he would
lead this great host east to destroy Vortigern and all who followed
him.

Four battles he had fought since he drove the
Picts from Carlisle. All had been victories, but they had been
fought against ancillary forces and not Vortigern's main strength.
Nevertheless, Uther's legend grew with each triumph, and fear
spread in the ranks of the enemy. For Uther Pendragon took no
prisoners, and all those who fell into his hands were put to the
sword. Traitors he branded all Britons who fought for Vortigern
and, if captured, they could count themselves fortunate for a quick
execution. Those with less luck were burned or buried alive. The
Saxons and other invaders he treated as animals, and if captured
they were butchered in whatever manner was most convenient.

Uther was idolized by his soldiers, and they
were fanatically devoted to him, though it was awe more than love
he inspired. He was too cold, too grim, too unflinchingly merciless
for most men to love. But he gave them victory, and he made them
understand that they fought for their homes, their wives, their
children. He gave them pride and forged a victorious army from
factions that had long fought each other in pointless feuds and
petty duels.

The kings too were under his spell, for they
knew well that without his leadership they would be deposed or
become little more than Vortigern's slaves. They feared him also,
for in the whole host there was not a man so courageous as to face
Uther Pendragon's wrath. Such was the force that held this unlikely
confederation together. All knew that there was little that would
enrage Uther as much as petty arguments between his kings and
allies, and none would risk his anger.

The hero was an empty man though, and in his
soul, beneath the iron will and the driving passion to win, was a
deep apathy. Uther fought because the war must be won. He was high
king because that was his right, and he would suffer no one to deny
him, not because he craved power or prestige. The true source of
his elemental strength was something few understood. All that
mattered to him he had already sacrificed to forge this weapon, and
he would not allow that loss to be in vain. Whatever further price
he may pay, regardless of the cost to others, Uther Pendragon would
achieve the victory his heart demanded.

He heard the footsteps behind them, and he
recognized the sound of that light, shuffling stride. "Hello
Merlin.”

Merlin was the one who came closest to truly
understanding Uther Pendragon. Long had they been friends - for all
of Uther's life, in fact. Merlin knew the price Uther had paid, and
though he did not at first understand just how deeply wounded the
king was by his loss, he had come to realize...and to regret his
role in that tragedy. Sadness he felt for Igraine as well as Uther,
for while the king could vent his pain into war and victories, for
her there was nothing but the walls of Tintagel and a cruel husband
she despised. You played a role in that Merlin, he thought. You
sacrificed that beautiful young girl without hesitation.

"What is this?" Uther was surprised by his
friend's dreamy silence. "Is it possible that Merlin has naught to
say? Never did I think I would see the day."

Uther's quip brought Merlin from his deep
thoughts. "And is it possible that the dread High King Uther,
destroyer of armies and merciless warlord, makes a jest? I thought
never to see such again."

Uther gave Merlin a rare smile. "Indeed my
friend, I must. For everyone else is too afraid of you to dare a
mock. I sometimes wonder who is it they fear more, you or me?" The
two of them stood side by side looking out over the camps. "So what
think you, Merlin, of this vast host we have assembled. Only once
have I seen so many warriors gathered together, in Italia when
Odoacer slew Orestes and took control of the Roman army. Now but a
few years later I have such a force at my command. Fate is indeed
mysterious, my friend, for who could have imagined this road?"

"I tell you truly that I foresaw a great
destiny for you, and thus I told your father.” Merlin looked at
Uther and smiled. “Yet even my vision was not so strong as to see
this sight. Well have you done, my friend. Your father would be
proud of you." Uther's face turned sour at the mention of his
father, and he looked away as if to end the discussion. But Merlin
was undeterred. "I am and always have been your friend, Uther, and
I shall speak truly to you whether it anger you or no. You must let
go of this anger and bitterness to your father. Deeply hurt he was
when you refused to see him before you departed for Carlisle. I
know the pain you have suffered from losing Igraine, but
Constantine did only what he felt he must do, as did I.
Forgive."

Uther was silent, staring out over the
landscape, his hand sliding absent-mindedly over the stone of the
battlement. Finally, he spoke, and his tone was gentle and sad.
"Nay, Merlin. I cannot forgive. I took up my father's crown, and I
brought the alliance that was so important to him to fruition. His
shade will have to be content with that, for no more can I
give."

"I also played a role in your pain,
Uther."

Uther looked at Merlin, his steely gray eyes
boring into the older man. "Indeed, and never shall I forgive you
for that act. Yet I do not believe you knew what pain your actions
would cause, and when you did, at least you made an effort at
amends. I am angry with you for what you have done, but also
grateful for that night with Igraine, for I know you went to great
effort and no small risk to arrange it." Uther put up his hand to
cut off further comments. "Let us discuss this no further. What is
done is done. Tomorrow we march to our destiny, but for now I would
have some supper. Join me?"

Merlin was about to say something, but he
stopped and smiled at Uther. "Yes, my friend. I am hungry, and I
would enjoy that."

Uther turned and held out his arm, gesturing
for Merlin to step first through the entryway into the castle.
Closing the heavy oaken door behind them, Uther followed Merlin
down the winding, circular stairs to the main level then down the
corridor to the great hall. Laid out on the long wooden table were
platters heaped with mutton and game fowl and other meats. As they
sat, Huarwar walked into the room with a large silver pitcher and
filled their goblets.