The Dragon's Banner (28 page)

Uther returned to Caer Guricon amid
tumultuous celebration, but though he played his role, in his heart
he was joyless. War, at least, had given him a purpose, and now he
had returned to an empty castle and endless days to ponder his
loss. Certainly there were warriors and advisors and servants in
Caer Guricon, but Uther's father and brothers were dead, and the
woman he loved was far away, married to another. It was to a life
of duty and loneliness the last of the Pendragon had returned.

The great army had dispersed, and men who had
fought and bled together bade each other tearful farewells, for
many were like never to see each other again. In the villages and
castle halls the victorious warriors were welcomed with quiet,
joyful celebrations. Their cheer, though strong, was restrained by
the losses they had borne, for they had fought in a dozen battles
and countless skirmishes and sieges. They had battled Picts and
Saxons and Britons from many kingdoms, and they had beaten all. But
they paid dearly for their victories. Barely half those who had
marched away to follow Uther Pendragon returned home, and those who
survived came back to withered farms and fallow fields. Their
comrades lay buried in graves across Britannia, and the homecoming,
though joyful, was also bitter for the many empty chairs.

They had fought to unite Britannia under one
high king, and they had done so. Now, they wondered, would their
indomitable war leader rule justly? Would the land recover and
prosperity return?

Uther Pendragon had been high king of
Britannia for a decade, and the country was restored to prosperity.
For years now, the harvests had been bountiful, and the storehouses
were bursting with grain. The shortages from the war years had been
made up, and the famine and pestilence that had ravaged the land
were increasingly distant memories. The dead had been buried, and
fresh pain of loss had given way to fond memory of fallen
heroes.

Uther's warriors rode throughout the kingdom,
enforcing the king's laws and driving Saxon raiding parties back
into the sea. For ten years the land had seen a level of peace and
prosperity unknown since the legions had departed. Some of the
kings might have resented the loss of independence, but none dared
challenge Uther, for all knew he was quick to anger and totally
without mercy to any who opposed him. That much they had seen
during the war, when he had made good on his oath to slay all who
had fought with Vortigern.

Fresh from victory, Uther had traveled widely
throughout Britannia, visiting all the kingdoms and accepting the
fealty of the kings. But as the years passed he became more
reclusive, until finally he rarely left the castle at Caer
Guricon.

Throughout the land there was one great
concern - the high king had no heir. He had been offered many
daughters and sisters of kings, but he would take no wife. The
entreaties of his closest friends and advisors were to no avail,
for Uther was a stubborn man, and once his mind was set, none could
change it. Thus was there a pall hanging over the prosperity, for
few could doubt that if Uther died without an heir, the kings would
again be fighting among themselves for position, and the land would
once more bleed. The high king was young, it is true, but as the
years went by and still he would not marry, the worries became
greater.

The usually grim atmosphere of Caer Guricon
was replaced with mirth, for Merlin had returned after an absence
of five years, and Uther joyfully welcomed his friend and advisor
back. Merlin had always come and gone with little predictability
and even less explanation, but he had been away long this time, and
Uther had missed him greatly.

They sat together well into the night before
the fire in the great hall, talking as they had in years past.
Merlin was one of the few people who knew why Uther refused to take
a wife. He also understood just how obstinate the king could be, so
he approached the issue with great caution. "My friend, we have
spoken of many trivial matters, but we must discuss the important
issue. You have terrorized everyone else so they will not dare
mention it, but you know as well as I do that you must have an
heir. Indeed, all you fought for, all your sacrifices, would be in
vain were the high kingship to fail. Would you have the thousands
who died to have done so in vain? Would you consign thousands more
to die in future strife?"

Uther shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I
wondered when you would raise the issue, for it seems to be the
only matter concerning anyone."

Merlin took his cup from the small table and
drank deeply of the warm spiced wine. "You did not take my head
off, which suggests to me that you too understand the problem.
Uther, my friend, I more than anyone know the cause of your
sadness, but you chose this path to save Britannia. Would you see
all that was bought with that heartbreak, yours and Igraine's,
vanish at your death?"

Uther was staring into the fire as he
listened, for he was deep in thought. "What is the limit of
sacrifice, Merlin? Was not my blood enough? Was not my soul enough?
For surely I shall have a reckoning with God for all I have done.
Is one woman so much to ask?"

Merlin sat still, his eyes aching with
compassion for his friend. "But it cannot be, Uther, for she is
married to another. Even the high king cannot undo this. No one can
ever replace Igraine for you. I know this, and I would not try to
tell you otherwise. But a king must have an heir. You must take a
wife."

Uther looked back at the fire and was silent
for a long while, absent-mindedly fingering the small ring he wore
on a chain around his neck. Merlin took another drink, putting his
cup gently back on the table as he sat quietly, enjoying the warmth
from the hearth. Though he had lived many lifetimes of normal men,
time was at last catching up with him, and he felt the cold more
now that he had before.

Finally, Uther turned to face Merlin and
spoke harshly. "I have thought long on this, my friend. I will have
Igraine. I will take her from Gorlois. I am high king, and I shall
have as I command."

Merlin was silent, for he was surprised by
Uther's words, and he could hear the madness in the king's voice.
Tread carefully here, he thought to himself.

Uther was surprised by Merlin's silence.
"What? No reasoned argument against my plan? No urging me to
caution? No list of dire consequences?"

Merlin held his hands out near the fire.
"There will be consequences, Uther. Surely you see that?"

Uther's face twisted into an angry grimace.
"Then damn the consequences. I have waited long enough, and Igraine
has languished too many years in Cornwall, wife to a man she
doesn't love."

"You risk all you have fought for.” Merlin’s
voice was measured. "All your men have died for."

"And why must that be so? Think you my nobles
and warriors would deny me the bride of my choosing? They have
little love for Gorlois. Indeed, some of them almost rebelled when
I made him king of Cornwall."

"They will fear, Uther. For if you would
steal a king's wife, then what might you not do? They do not like
Gorlois, but they will think that next time it will be them. They
accept you as high king, but still they are protective of their
positions. They will not support you if they fear you will
undermine their own power. You will face constant rebellion and
treachery."

Merlin moved uncomfortably in his chair,
shifting his gaze from the fire to Uther. "Remember, Igraine has
been married to Gorlois for more than twelve years. Even if you
were to wrest her away, she could give you naught but a bastard,
and such an heir would not be accepted by the kings. How do you
propose to end the marriage? No bishop will annul a union that has
lasted so long and produced children."

Uther sat unmoving in his chair and looked at
Merlin with frozen eyes. "That is simple, Merlin. I propose to kill
Gorlois."

The queen of Cornwall sat in her room in
Tintagel Castle sewing with her daughters. Anna was eleven and the
image of her mother…except for her gray eyes. Morgan was seven, and
though she had much of her mother's beauty, she also had Gorlois'
large nose and thin brown hair. Igraine herself was still as
beautiful as ever, though there was a pervasive sadness about her,
and her eyes, which once sparkled like gemstones, were dull and
lifeless.

She looked out the window at the waves
crashing on the rocks. She loved the sea; it was the only thing she
enjoyed about living at Tintagel. Many days she would sit and watch
the sun set over the ocean, and in the light dancing over the
rippling water she would often see images, ghosts from the past.
Her beloved father, killed at the Battle of Verulamium - God, was
that ten years ago already? Her mother, gone so long, but still in
her thoughts. And Uther Pendragon, the love of her life, torn from
her by political forces that overshadowed their desires, though he
had loved her as deeply as she him. Of that, at least, she was
certain.

I wonder if you have forgotten about me, my
love, she thought wistfully. Part of her truly hoped he had, for
she found no salve for her hurts in his pain. Yet she also clung to
him, and she drew comfort from the thought that he may still long
for her as she did for him. She had heard Gorlois and his advisors
speaking several times, discussing Uther's refusal to marry. Does
he refuse to take a wife, she wondered, because he still belongs to
me in his heart?

Her life with Gorlois had never been a happy
one, but in recent years things had become worse. He was angry
because she had failed to give him a son, and he was cruel when he
even bothered to notice her. It was a relief that in recent years
she only rarely had to put up with him sweating and grunting on top
of her, for she couldn't stand the sight of him. She was lonely -
desperately, achingly alone, for other than her daughters she had
no one. She was not allowed to leave Tintagel Castle without
Gorlois' permission, and this he rarely gave. Occasionally, he
allowed her to ride through the countryside surrounding the keep,
but otherwise her days were spent willing the hours to pass. Her
father had taught her to read, but her husband did not believe in a
literate woman, and he denied her even a bible, stating, "You shall
seek your salvation through the sermons of the priests and not by
reading that which you cannot possibly understand, despite your
father's foolish indulgences."

Though she loved both of her daughters, she
couldn’t help but share a special closeness with Anna for, unknown
to all but Igraine, she was the child of Uther Pendragon, conceived
during the one night the two had shared. All the while she carried
the baby, Igraine wondered who was the father, but when first she
held the child and saw those steely gray eyes she knew. She had
looked many times into those eyes, and they had looked into hers
with love and compassion. She was thrilled that God had given her
Uther's baby, though at first she had been terrified that Gorlois
would know. He will kill us both, she had thought many times that
first year. But the newly-crowned king of Cornwall had little
interest in his daughters, and he rarely came to see them. Her
fears had been for naught; Gorlois never suspected.

Anna was a willful child, but sweet and very
intelligent. Igraine saw much of her father in her, and she loved
her all the more for it, though it often made her more difficult to
raise. She had Uther's intransigence, and her stubbornness often
strained Igraine's patience.

Morgan, too, was smart, but it saddened
Igraine that she was also cruel and manipulative. Though she loved
her daughter greatly, she could see there was a darkness in the
child that she could not understand. Though Gorlois ignored her as
much as he did Igraine and Anna, Morgan was very fond of her
father, and she came to blame her mother for the infrequency of his
visits.

Igraine tried to teach her daughters to read
and write, but without books or parchment it was impossible. She
would tell them stories she remembered from her childhood, tales of
Rome, and legends even older, for Igraine's lineage went far back,
to the shadowy past and the Celtic kings and queens who had ruled
Britannia for centuries before the legions arrived.

In the years after the war, Merlin had
visited Tintagel several times, and though he purported to have
matters to discuss with Gorlois, Igraine suspected he was truly
there to see how she fared. Whether he had come on his own or at
the behest of Uther she could not know, though whatever brought him
to visit, she was grateful. Merlin had always been kind to her, and
he was greatly troubled at the sacrifice she had been forced to
make and guilty about his part in it. But it had been many years
since she had last seen him, so even that occasional contact with
her past had been lost. Everything Igraine cared about except her
daughters had been taken from her, and she knew that even her
babies would one day be lost, for Gorlois would barter them off as
brides to whatever allies he deemed most crucial. Then Igraine
would truly be alone with her despair.

The room had become dark. A storm was coming
in off the sea, and the sun had fallen behind the approaching
clouds. She rose and lit a small splint of wood in the fireplace
and used it to light the candles in the room. In the flickering
candlelight she checked on the work her daughters had done and
then, placing her own fabric aside, she sat near the window and
looked out, watching the dark clouds roll in over the sea and
thinking of times and people long gone.

Uther and Merlin walked through the deep
woods north of Caer Guricon, and while the entire household thought
they were out hunting, their true purpose was to speak privately.
For Merlin had silenced Uther the evening before, bidding him not
repeat what he had said until they were sure they were alone.