The Dragon's Banner (4 page)

At dusk the celebrations ended in the town
and the camps, but in the castle there was a supper for the kings
and their sons. All were in good spirits and the revels lasted well
into the night. The last one to retire was Uther Pendragon, who had
taken Merlin's counsel to heart and had impressed all present with
not only his skill at arms, but also his honor and dignity.

The council was convened the next day after
the kings broke their fast together. The meal was simple after the
feasting of the day prior, just bread and cheese and salt pork and
fruits, with cups of strong ale. When they were assembled, the
archbishop led all in a prayer for their success and declared the
council in session. Present in addition to Constantine and Merlin
were the six other kings, all proud and lordly and each with his
own concerns and goals.

Lot, king of Luthien, far to the north,
closest to the Pictish allies of Vortigern and most threatened by
them. Lot was distrustful of the southern kings, and reluctant to
commit any of his forces other than to his troubled border.

Urien, the youthful king of Rheged, no older
than Uther himself and also a mighty warrior. Rheged was well north
of Powys, straddling the great wall built by the Emperor Hadrian.
Rheged and Luthien had been sometimes friends, sometimes enemies,
though recent dangers had pushed them closer together. Urien had
only recently succeeded his father, and none knew his mind as
yet.

Rience, king of Gwynned, just north and east
of Powys, an arrogant and warlike monarch, not well-liked by his
neighbors, most of whom he had fought at one time or another. A
good warrior, but vain, he thought himself stronger than he
was.

Vortiporius, even younger than Urien, who had
just ascended the throne of Dyfed, along the coast west of Powys,
after his father Aurelius was slain in battle in Ireland. He was
aggressive and ill-tempered, and though just a boy, he was clever
and hard to read.

Ogyruan, father of Leodegrance and king of
Cameliard in south, bordering Cornwall. Constantine and Ogyruan
were close friends, and Powys and Cameliard had long been allies.
He would almost certainly support Constantine, though the others
knew this and would pay little heed to his entreaties, thinking he
and Constantine to be of one voice.

Pellinore, king of the Isles, was also a
warrior of great renown. He had allied with Aurelius, father of
Vortiporius, for both claimed lands in Ireland and together they
had sought to enforce their rule. Vortiporius blamed Pellinore for
his father's death for failing to aid him in battle. In truth,
Pellinore was himself sorely pressed when Aurelius marched into an
ambush, and there was little he could have done. But the bad blood
persisted.

Thus were these seven free kings of Britannia
assembled, for the others were pledged to the banner of Vortigern.
To the east the Saxon invaders held the coasts, and in the far
north the barbarous Picts hated all those of the south and would
fight for Vortigern so they might invade and pillage rich
lands.

There was one other lord of import and power,
and though not sworn to Vortigern, he had refused to attend the
council. Gorlois of Cornwall ruled vast lands in southwestern
Britannia and commanded a veteran army, which he had used time and
again to bully his neighbors. A pompous and currupt lord, Gorlois
was cruel, and he was liked by few. Most of those assembled were
relieved he was not in attendance, but Constantine and Merlin knew
they needed to add Gorlois' army to the alliance, or they would
lack the strength to defeat Vortigern.

"Once again, welcome to each of you, great
kings of Britannia." Constantine stood at the head of the table as
he began to address to the council. "My heartfelt gratitude to all
of you for accepting my invitation. It has been far too long since
I have seen some of you, my brothers.

"We are met here to discuss a matter of grave
import to all of us, for the usurper Vortigern is an enemy of each
and every lord here assembled. Indeed, many of you have fought
battles against each other, and some have met me on the field as
well. But though we have had disputes, we are all loyal Britons,
and I have asked you to come here because Britannia needs all its
kings in this time of trouble. Vortigern invites the invader to our
shores as his allies and mercenaries. Already much of the eastern
coast has fallen, and the surviving lords there have sworn to our
enemy. There were kings in the east who resisted, friends of mine,
and of some of you as well, who now lie unburied in the smoking
ruins of their castles.

"Vortigern rouses the barbarians of the far
north to march south, pillaging and burning as they go. Savage and
godless, the Picts are a deadly threat to all, and first to our
northern brethren here seated. Few of you are old enough to recall
when I reclaimed the throne of Powys from this usurper, after he
slew King Brochwel and dishonored and murdered that noble monarch's
daughter. Many of your fathers stood with me then and were my
allies, for they were outraged by Vortigern's fiendish deeds, and
their hearts cried out for justice.

"But now it is more than justice at stake,
more than the return of a single throne to one with rights to claim
it. For this time, Vortigern has many times the strength he did
when last I fought him. Indeed, he has the power to crush every
kingdom and rule all of Britannia with an iron fist. Our disputes
and grudges are of little import, for if we do not stand together
then we shall fall, and those who survive defeat would do so as the
usurper's slaves. I shall not live as such, and I will face the
enemy alone if needs be.”

Constantine looked out over his guests as he
continued. "I am known to all here assembled, and I have ruled
longer than any at this table. My father was not only imperial
governor of Britannia, but also emperor of Rome, and I present this
lineage to support my claim to the high kingship. I ask all of you
to join our alliance and name me war leader so that I may again
defeat the usurper. I claim no lands or spoil, no dominion over you
or the rule of your kingdoms, only your support in facing this
deadly foe."

Constantine paused, for he could feel his own
weakness. With every fiber of endurance left to him he struggled to
stand firm and speak in a clear and commanding voice. His body
ached, and his tired legs throbbed. But weakness was something he
dared not show here, for these kings would follow him only if they
thought he had the strength to lead.

"And you, brave kings of the north, Lot and
Uriens, who have fought the Picts many times. Think you that alone
you can defeat this dark coalition, for the savages from the far
north will be streaming south ere long, and your villages and
castles lie in their path. And you, Rience, for your lands lie
north and east of my own, closer in both directions to our foes.
Will you stand alone against the onslaught that is coming?”

His gaze moved down the table. "You, lords of
the south, think you that if Lothian and Gwynned and Powys fall
that you shall be able to stand on your own? Nay, for if we do not
fight together, our enemy will surely destroy us one at a time
until none remain to challenge his rule."

Constantine paused again, resting for an
instant while he allowed his guests to consider his words. "I
propose, therefore, that we leave this council sworn and proclaimed
to an alliance to meet the foe and drive him into the sea. Join me,
my brother kings, and together we shall have the strength to gain
our victory."

Finished with his opening speech,
Constantine, his legs on fire with pain, slowly lowered himself
into his seat. His voice had remained true. It had wavered perhaps
once or twice, but nothing that would be unduly noted. He thought,
how will I get through not only this council but the war that is
coming as well? Blessed be Merlin's concoction, for it has kept my
accursed cough at bay. And he promises me a stronger potion when he
is able to find the plants he needs. Perhaps that will be enough,
for Merlin is wise and resourceful.

His thoughts were interrupted as King Rience
rose to address the council. This is one you must watch,
Constantine thought silently, for he may be trouble.

"I thank King Constantine for his
hospitality.” Rience spoke loudly, his voice firm, but more brittle
and less commanding than Constantine’s. “We all know his words are
to be seriously considered, for he is a wise and noble man. Yet
have we proof that this coalition is as dire as he tells? For many
have tried to ally with the Picts, with naught to show for it other
than bitter failure and murdered ambassadors.”

Rience paused, his forehead furrowed as he
looked over the table. "And if we send our armies to meet this
enemy, how can we know that other foes, perhaps even some at this
table, will not take advantage to settle accounts? Indeed, as our
host declared, we have all had our battles among ourselves. If I
commit all of my warriors, might another hold back seeking to gain
advantage at home while we win the victory abroad?"

He moved his gaze down the table as he
continued his speech. "Who shall lead the armies in the field? I
declare before all that I would follow Constantine, for he is a
renowned warrior, and his lineage is great and noble. Yet we have
heard stories that our host is ill. Pray tell, are we to follow one
of Constantine's sons? Indeed, they are all noble and brave, yet
have they the stature that six kings should serve under them?"

Constantine rose abruptly, though his body
was wracked with pain, and he slammed his hand on the table. "Old I
am, my friend Rience, with my greener days long past, yet strength
I have remaining for one more war. Pledge your forces to this
battle, and I shall lead them. You have my word, which has never
been broken."

So went the council, for each king had his
own fears and ambitions, and there would be much talking before any
agreement could be reached. All through the day they bantered and
into the night, when Constantine finally closed the deliberations
for the day, bidding all to sup with him and return on the
morrow.

Uther wandered through the camps, for the
council was closed to all but the kings and their advisors, and he
was bored. The dawn had been clear and cool, but by midday the sun
had grown warm and Uther took off his cloak. The camps were busy
with everyday tasks, cookfires burning and washerwomen kneeling
along the river doing their daily work. In the distance he could
hear a smith banging on his anvil, likely repairing some armor or
weapon damaged in the tournament the day prior.

Uther was well known, for despite his young
age he had already won great glory on the field of battle, and as
he passed by the commoners they jumped aside and bowed. He greeted
them with a simple nod and continued on his way, walking slowly
from the river to the edge of the forest. He was about to turn
around and walk back to the castle when he heard his name being
called.

"Lord Uther, greetings to you. Would you
honor me by joining me for a flagon of ale?"

Uther turned and saw a familiar face. Lord
Elisedd, one of his father's most important retainers, and a
substantial baron in his own right.

"Lord Elisedd, it shall be my pleasure to
join you. Indeed, the day has warmed more than I expected, and some
ale would be most welcome."

Uther walked over, and he and Elisedd locked
hands on arms in a warm greeting. Elisedd called to his servants to
bring ale and motioned for Uther to sit at a large table that was
set before his blue and white tent.

A servant came rushing over, with a large
flagon and two silver cups. Placing the cups on the table, he
filled each and then bowed. Elisedd waved him off and, leaving the
pitcher on the table, the boy hastily departed.

Uther and Elisedd talked cheerily, for though
the baron was much older, they had met many times and were friends
of a sort. They had taken the field together twice too, winning
victories on both occasions. Elisedd was speaking of the council,
for rumors were rife throughout the camps, but Uther's attention
was suddenly lost to his companion, for he saw, partially covered
by the flap of the great tent, the most beautiful girl he had ever
laid eyes upon.

Elisedd soon noticed he had lost his young
friend's attention, and then he realized why. He laughed gently at
his youthful friend. "Ah, I see you have noticed my daughter.
Indeed, you have seen her many times, yet perhaps not for several
years." The baron, an amused grin on his face, called out.
"Igraine, come here, for I would have you greet Lord Uther."

The girl Uther had been watching walked
smoothly to her father's side. Indeed, this was no girl, but a
woman of surpassing beauty and grace. A blue velvet gown she wore,
with white lace along the collar and cuffs. Her coppery red hair
glistened in the sunlight as it cascaded over her shoulders and
down her back in tousled curls.

"Lord Uther Pendragon, my daughter
Igraine."

Igraine bowed to Uther, and though she said
nothing until bidden to do so, she smiled sweetly at the young
prince.

Uther returned the smile but almost found
himself tongue-tied. "Igraine, it is my great pleasure to see you.
I trust your journey was a pleasant one." His speech was halting,
nervous…very unlike Uther Pendragon.

She raised her head to look into his eyes.
"Indeed, Lord Uther, I have enjoyed our travels and our stay here
very much."

Her voice was soft and pleasant, and Uther
spoke long with her, for he found he could listen to her voice
forever. Finally, he took his leave of Elisedd and his magnificent
daughter, for it was long past time he returned to the castle to
see if his father had need of him.

He walked a bit, and looked back to get a
last glance at her. Their eyes met, for she was doing the same.
Uther Pendragon, who had coolly killed three men in battle at the
age of thirteen, found his heart was beating wildly as he walked up
through the town to the castle.