Читать книгу Arthur, King - William Speir - Страница 13

Uther’s horse raced along the road to Din Eidyn. The snow had stopped falling hours earlier, and the full moon peered through the clouds, bathing the white landscape in blueish light. The wind and the crunching of the snow beneath his horse’s hooves were the only sounds he heard, apart from his own gasps as he inhaled the icy air. Steam billowed from the horse’s nostrils as it labored to carry its rider to the hillfort that served as Uther’s main fortress.

Tonight of all nights! It wasn’t supposed to happen for at least another week.

Uther glanced back at his standard-bearer and his escorts, who were desperately trying to keep up with their king. His standard, the gold boar on a field of dark blue, snapped straight back as the horses raced for home.

She said it wouldn’t happen until after the new year. It’s Christmas Eve! I promised her that I’d be back in time.

Uther leaned forward, and his horse understood. The horse shook its head slightly, acknowledging the silent order, and increased speed. It seemed to know that its rider had somewhere to be that night.

It was December 24th in the year 464 AD. King Uther, the lord of Gododdin in the northeast corner of Britain, had been meeting for several days with the High King, Vortigern, and the other northern kings to discuss plans for strengthening Britain’s defenses against the Picts and Caledonians. The meetings had ended several days earlier, and Uther had anticipated being home by mid-day on Christmas. He was half-way back to Gododdin when the messenger from his wife, Queen Ygerna, intercepted him.

The message was simple and urgent. “It’s time.”

Uther’s heart began racing. His closest friend and advisor, Merlinus Emrys, or Merlin as he preferred to be called, immediately drew his horse up next to his king.

“What is it, my Lord?” Merlin asked.

Uther relayed the message. “I’m riding for Din Eidyn, immediately, Merlin. You and the others follow as quickly as you can.”

“Of course, Uther,” Merlin promised.

Uther pressed his heels into the sides of his horse, and it took off at a gallop. His escorts followed close behind.

Uther glanced back at his standard-bearer and his escorts again. Six escorts had followed him when he left the rest of the men who had accompanied him to King Vortigern’s Council meetings, but Uther noticed that only three had managed to keep up with him.

I can’t be late. Not for this.

Uther reached the crest of a great ridge and saw Din Eidyn across the valley. Torches all along the wall illuminated the hillfort overlooking the village, but its beacon remained dark.

I’m not too late. There’s still time.

His chest pounded as he rode through the deserted streets to the causeway that led up to the hillfort’s gates. The guards immediately recognized their king’s standard and flung open the gates for him. Uther rode through without saying a word.

When he reached the hillfort’s great house, he dismounted and tossed the reins to a groom. He ran up the steps two at a time, pushed open the great oak door, and entered the house that he shared with the love of his life.

“Ygerna! I’m here, my darling!”

He deposited his riding cloak and sword belt into the arms of the servant who ran to the door to greet him.

Uther headed for the great hall. “Any word yet?”

“No, my Lord,” the servant replied, following Uther as fast as he could while trying not to drop the cloak or the sword.

Uther hurried across the great hall; the thumping of his boots against the flagstone tiles echoed loudly. The corridor beyond led to the private apartments that he shared with his queen. As he reached the door to the apartment, it opened. Silhouetted against the candlelight was Lucilia, one of Ygerna’s midwives.

“My Lord,” she intoned softly. “You’re just in time.”

He followed her into the apartment. Lit candles were everywhere, giving off a golden glow. When he reached the bedchamber, Ygerna was there, surrounded by midwives and other servants who were required by law to witness the birth of a future King of Gododdin. She looked like she was in pain.

“I’m here, my love,” he said as he approached the bed.

Ygerna nodded. Then she grimaced and let out a yell that sounded like she was being stabbed by an unseen enemy.

“It’s coming now,” Lucilia said, pushing past Uther.

Uther stepped out of the way. He had never seen a woman giving birth before; Ygerna had never carried a child for this long. She had suffered four miscarriages while he was away fighting the Picts, Irish, Saxons, and Anglians who constantly invaded Britain. When she found herself pregnant again, he promised that he’d be with her when it was time for the baby to be born.

I kept my promise. I made it back in time.

The midwives and servants blocked his view. Uther wanted to be next to his wife, holding her, but he knew that he needed to let the midwives do their work.

Ygerna let out another yell, followed by a deep groaning.

Oh, my darling. You’ve come so far. Just a little farther, and the baby that we’ve wanted for so long will finally be here.

Ygerna groaned again, sending the midwives scurrying. Agonizing moments passed. Ygerna’s breathing became deeper between spasms of pain. She groaned and yelled loudly as if in unimaginable agony. Then there was silence.

“Ygerna…?” Uther asked.

He heard a crying, but it wasn’t his wife. The midwives stepped away from the bed. Lucilia beamed as she gestured for Uther to come forward.

Uther stood next to the bed. Lying beside Ygerna, wrapped in a blanket that she had been waiting years to use, was a pink-cheeked baby, resting with its eyes shut.

“We have a son, Uther.” Ygerna sounded exhausted. “We finally have a son!”

Uther sat next to his wife and kissed her forehead. He looked at his son with an expression of wonder. “I have a son,” he whispered. “We have a son.”

“What shall we name him?” Ygerna asked, looking at him with those Welsh blue eyes of hers.

“You know that I’ve always been fond of bears.” Uther smiled and stroked her hair. “What about Arto? It’s a good name.”

Ygerna shook her head. “How about Arthur?”

“The Welsh version of the word?” Uther chuckled softly. “You always did prefer anything Welsh.”

“Everything except for you, my love,” Ygerna replied softly.

Uther nodded. “Arthur it is.”

Uther heard a commotion in the great hall.

“It sounds like the others have finally arrived. I’ll go tell them the good news, and then I’ll come right back.”

Uther strode out of the bedchamber, followed by the servants who weren’t needed as witnesses anymore. When he reached the great hall, Merlin and the others who had traveled with him to meet with Vortigern were standing near the fire, waiting to hear whether the King of Gododdin finally had an heir.

“What’s the news?” Merlin asked when he saw Uther.

Uther hugged his friend. “Ah, Merlin, I have a son!”

Merlin and the others cheered their king.

“What did you name him?” Merlin asked.

“Arthur,” Uther replied proudly. “My son and his mother are doing just fine. And now I must return to them, and each of you have loved ones waiting for you. Go now, and have a blessed Christmas.”

“Congratulations, my Lord,” Merlin said, gesturing for the others to follow him out of the great hall. “We wish you, Ygerna, and Prince Arthur a blessed Christmas as well.”

Merlin and the others retrieved their horses and rode for the gates of the hillfort. As they reached the causeway leading to Din Eidyn, one of Uther’s servants lit the beacon on the wall overlooking the village.

The light shone brightly on the causeway as it reflected off the snow-covered ground. By the time Merlin reached his own estate, the other beacons in the area were lit, heralding to all of Gododdin that their future king, Prince Arthur, had come.

Heavy snows blanketed Din Eidyn for the next week, making the roads impassable. But the weather turned calm and the roads cleared by the end of the first week of January. Uther’s friends and allies, who had planned to travel to Din Eidyn in early January for the birth of Uther’s child, now arrived in time for Arthur’s christening.

In addition to Gododdin, four neighboring kingdoms were responsible for defending Britain’s northern borders, and their kings were chief among the allies who made the journey. Ceretic, the King of Strathclyde, ruled the lands west of Gododdin and bore the brunt of the Irish invasions. Nudd-Lludd, the King of Bryneich, ruled the lands south of Gododdin. Mor, the King of Ebrauc, ruled the lands south of Bryneich and had lost much of his kingdom, including his capital city, to Colgrin’s Anglian invaders. Gwrast Ledlwm, the King of Rheged, ruled the lands south of Strathclyde.

The hillfort at Din Eidyn was the largest in the northern kingdoms, and it was also one of the largest in all of Britain. The kings were housed in the guest wing of Uther’s great house, while the retainers and servants who traveled with their kings were lodged either in the guest quarters along the eastern wall or in the barracks that lined the southern and western walls.

The kings celebrated the birth and christening of the young prince with feasting. Normally, a gathering of kings like this would also include hunting, but the snow and ice that still blanketed the forests made that too dangerous for both horses and riders. Uther’s guests remained warm near the fires in the great hall, drinking wine and ale between the seemingly endless platters of food that Uther’s cooks prepared.

Queen Ygerna and Arthur remained secluded in their private apartments for the most part. But they made several appearances in the great hall during the festivities, much to the delight of their guests. Uther checked on them often. He loved Ygerna, and he was delighted to see her recovering quickly from the physical strain of childbirth. She was happier than he’d ever seen her. Looking at the baby in her arms, he found himself happier than he ever thought possible.

Late on the second night of the celebration, Merlin and the kings sat near the fire in the great hall, enjoying the afterglow of much good food, wine, and ale.

Nudd-Lludd looked over to Mor. “Is there any chance of you retaking York? Surely Colgrin doesn’t have that many troops along your eastern shores.”

Mor shook his head, sloshing ale from his tankard onto the flagstone floor. “He’s entrenched. I couldn’t dislodge him no matter how hard I tried. And now that he’s formed an alliance with Hengist and Horsa in the south, he can get Saxon reinforcements by longboat before I can get my army organized. If High King Vortigern doesn’t come to my aid, half of my kingdom will remain lost to me and my heirs.”

Nudd-Lludd snorted and wiped ale froth from his beard with the back of his hand. “Vortigern will never come to your aid, Mor. He married Hengist’s daughter thirteen years ago, remember? As long as Hengist and Colgrin are allies, Vortigern doesn’t dare do anything to upset his father-in-law. He’s barely keeping the Saxons contained along the southeastern coast.”

“Don’t talk about the High King in that way,” Ceretic said.

“Relax, Ceretic.” Uther gestured for a servant to refill everyone’s tankards. “No one’s insulting King Vortigern. But you have to admit that the Saxons, Jutes, and Anglians in Britain have increased in number since he married Rowenna. They’re encroaching all along the southern and eastern coasts of Britain, and the High King doesn’t seem to be doing anything to stop them. Vortigern’s own sons by his first wife deposed him and fought Hengist back to the original Saxon borders in the southeast. Vortimer would still be High King if he hadn’t been jealous of Ambrosius Aurelianus and decided to attack him instead of keeping his focus on the Saxons.”

“Don’t get me started on Ambrosius Aurelianus,” Gwrast Ledlwm roared contemptuously. “Did you know that he refers to his army as the ‘legion’? Mascen Wledig withdrew the Roman Legions from Britain eighty-two years ago. Who does he think he is? I’ll tell you this: he and the rest of the damnable Roman faction on the Council of Kings are doing nothing but making things hard for Vortigern.”

Gwranst’s face turned red as he looked over at Uther. “I’m sorry, Uther. I know you’re half-Roman yourself. I didn’t mean…”

“So what if Ambrosius is Roman or Uther is half-Roman? Mor interrupted. “Vortigern is not lord over us. We elected Vortigern as High King to handle the defense of Britain, and he’s done a poor job. If Ambrosius can do a better job, we should elect him to replace Vortigern.”

“You’re speaking treason, Mor,” Ceretic growled.

“How so?” Mor demanded. “Vortigern is in charge of our armies in the field; he is not King of Britain. If we elected him, we can just as easily remove him and replace him with someone who will keep us safe from our enemies.”

“It’s never been done before,” Nudd-Lludd pointed out.

“There’s always a first time,” Mor stated.

Ceretic looked over at Uther. “You’ve been quiet on this subject, Uther. What are your thoughts?”

Uther looked at the other kings. He took a swig of ale and put down the tankard. “Ever since the Night of the Long Knives nine years ago, we’ve known that the Saxons can never be trusted. We’re fortunate that none of us was present that night, or we’d be dead, too. The presence of the Saxons and their allies in Britain is a threat to all of us. We made Vortigern the head of our armies and responsible for the defense of Britain. For a while, he led our armies well… until he invited Hengist and Horsa to come as mercenaries to help him defend Britain against the Irish, Picts, and Caledonians. Now, every year we lose territory, and the Saxons and their allies gain. Hengist has even expanded north to within sight of the former Roman capital of Camulodunum! If this continues, we’ll be overrun, and the Saxons will be our masters. Whatever it takes to prevent that is the only rational choice for us.”

“So you support deposing Vortigern and replacing him with Ambrosius?” Gwrast accused.

“I didn’t say that,” Uther replied carefully. “But Vortigern needs to remember that he answers to us, not to Hengist. If the High King won’t defend us against the Saxons, Jutes, Anglians, Irish, Picts, and Caledonians, then replacing him with someone who will becomes a matter of survival.”

“Do you think that we’re there yet?” Nudd-Lludd asked.

Uther leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. “I don’t know, but I think that we’ll have our answer by year-end.”

After the other kings retired for the night, Uther and Merlin sat alone in the great hall.

“What are your thoughts, Merlin?”

Merlin drained his tankard. “Nudd-Lludd is right. Vortigern’s loyalties are divided, and Britain is suffering as a result. If he can’t or won’t stop the Saxons from encroaching into our lands, then the kings must elect someone else to lead us.”

“He was right about one thing,” Uther said, referring to Nudd-Lludd. “It’s never been done before.”

Merlin leaned forward. “Vortigern is only our second High King since we threw off Roman rule fifty-five years ago. The kings didn’t grant him lordship over their respective kingdoms. He serves at the pleasure of the kings, and if the kings are displeased with him, then they have the right to replace him.”

“Replace him with whom?” Uther asked. “Ambrosius?”

“He seems an obvious choice,” Merlin replied. “He’s been successful at fighting the Saxons, he defeated and killed Vortimer five years ago… He’s very popular in the south. If he can rally even a few of the northern kings, he’ll have proven himself a good candidate for High King.”

Merlin paused for a moment. “Unless a strong king from the north were to declare himself a candidate.”

Uther looked at Merlin sharply. “Who, me?”

Merlin nodded.

Uther laughed. “Merlin, you’re insane! I have no desire to be High King. I have enough problems up here without having to be concerned with problems in the south. Besides, a High King can’t stay in one place. I’d be traveling and fighting all the time. I’d never see Ygerna or Arthur unless they traveled with me, and what kind of life is that for them? No, Gododdin is mine, and it’s all that I want.”

“And Vortigern?” Merlin asked.

“I’ll wait and watch,” Uther replied. “If he fails us again, I’ll throw my support behind a new candidate for High King.”

“Even if it leads to war between the kings?”

Uther shook his head in disgust. “I’ve never known such a group of petty, selfish, and easily offended people as those on the Council of Kings. Whoever becomes High King will have to unite them while defending them from invasion. I can’t imagine a more difficult and thankless task. I won’t lightly agree to plunge us into war with each other. The candidate for High King must have the support of a majority of the kings. Otherwise, the Saxons and their allies will use our internal squabbles as an invitation to attack and conquer. We can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.

The largest log in the fire cracked, sending up a shower of sparks that illuminated the great hall with orange light. Uther refilled his and Merlin’s tankards and sipped his ale in silence.

If Ambrosius can prove himself again in battle against the Saxons and can unite the southern and central kingdoms, then he’ll have my support as the next High King.

A few days later, the kings congratulated Uther and Ygerna once more on the birth of Prince Arthur before leaving Din Eidyn to return to their own kingdoms.

The air was brisk, and the sunlight was bright. Uther’s banner snapped in the breeze over the walls of the hillfort. Standing above the main gates, Uther watched his guests and their retainers and servants ride south down the causeway and disappear in the distance.

I look forward to seeing them again. Nudd-Lludd’s wife is pregnant and should deliver his first child late in the spring. I’ll be there for the christening, and perhaps by then we’ll know if Vortigern should remain as our High King.

A clanging behind him caught Uther’s attention. He climbed down off the walls and walked to the northwest corner of the hillfort. Frost crunched underneath his boots as he walked.

Nestled between the barracks along the western wall and the stables that ran the full length of the norther wall, was the smithy. Uther kept a mounted fighting force of two hundred men in the hillfort, in addition to fifty guards. A dedicated blacksmith and armorer was required to maintain his soldiers’ equipment.

He walked past the kitchens, storehouses, and workshops clustered around the great house. Then he crossed the soldiers’ training grounds before finally reaching the smithy.

“My Lord, Uther!” the blacksmith said when Uther entered. “How may I be of service?”

Uther smiled at the blacksmith. Uther had a gift for surrounding himself with talented men, and the blacksmith was no exception. His skills were legendary, as demonstrated by the fact that each of the kings attending Prince Arthur’s christening had tried unsuccessfully to lure him away from Uther’s service.

“I need a sword,” Uther said, looking at the weapons lining the far wall of the smithy.”

The blacksmith frowned. “Have you already damaged the last one I made for you, my Lord?”

Uther shook his head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with my sword. This is for Prince Arthur.”

“Ah,” the blacksmith said. “Do you want a short sword from him to have once he’s old enough to hold it?”

“No, I want you to make the sword he’ll receive when he comes of age.”

“That’s a long time off, my Lord.”

Uther nodded. “I know, but I want it ready when he’s old enough, and I want you to make it. There’s no one I trust more to make him a weapon that’ll be beautiful in peace and terrifying in battle.”

The blacksmith bowed. “It’ll be my honor, my Lord,”

“Good. Spare no expense. I want this to be the greatest sword you’ve ever made.”

“I promise that you’ll be pleased, my Lord.”

Uther left the blacksmith and returned to the great house. He found Ygerna sitting in a chair by the fire in their bedroom. Arthur was in her arms, feeding on her milk.

Uther crossed the room and kissed Ygerna. “How’s my son today?”

“Hungry and happy.” Ygerna smiled. “Like his father.”

Uther grinned. “And how is his mother doing?”

“Better. Has everyone left?”

Uther nodded. “I watched them ride down the causeway. I doubt I’ll see them again until Nudd-Lludd’s wife gives birth in a few months, assuming there’s no fighting between now and then.”

“I hope not,” Ygerna said. “I want you home with me and our son.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”