Читать книгу Arthur, King - William Speir - Страница 14

The spring thaws came early to Gododdin. The valley around Din Eidyn turned various shades of green as the blanket of snow melted, filling the streams and rivers all around. Even the rocky hills that overlooked the village seemed more beautiful than usual.

Arthur attended his first Easter mass that spring. He nestled quietly in Ygerna’s arms throughout the entire service, stirring only once when his mother knelt in prayer. This was the first time that the young prince had left the hillfort, and the people of Din Eidyn crowded around Uther and Ygerna after the service to catch a glimpse of their future king.

A week after Easter, Uther made preparations to leave for Bryneich to be there for the birth of Nudd-Lludd’s firstborn. He checked on his horse in the stables, and as he walked past the smithy, he noticed the blacksmith running after him.

“My Lord, Uther! I have something to show you!”

“What is it?” Uther asked.

The blacksmith smiled. “I’ve finished the sword.”

Uther followed the blacksmith to the smithy. The blacksmith opened a locked cabinet along the far wall, pulled out an object wrapped in thick cloth, and set the bundle down on the counter. He stepped back after removing the cloth and exposing the sword in its scabbard, waiting to see Uther’s reaction.

Uther picked up the scabbard and examined the sword’s hilt. Then he drew the sword and examined the blade, testing its balance and heft. After a few minutes, he returned the sword to its scabbard and handed it back to the blacksmith.

“I named it ‘Caliburn,’ Lord Uther,” the blacksmith said, wrapping the sword back in the cloth.

“It is your best work.” Uther smiled broadly. “It’s larger than my sword, isn’t it?”

The blacksmith nodded. “As I started working with the metal, the thought kept coming to me that it should be long enough for mounted fighting, but not so long as to be a backsword. It can be used one-handed or two-handed, depending on the situation.”

The blacksmith handed the bundle to Uther. “I hope that the young prince will be pleased when he comes of age.”

“I’m certain that he will be. It’s a magnificent sword. You’ve outdone yourself again.”

The blacksmith accepted the praise with a bow to his king.

Uther left the smithy and crossed the grounds to the great house. Caliburn. A strong name for an exceptional weapon. I look forward to presenting it to Arthur when he turns sixteen.

Ambrosius Aurelianus, Overlord of the Roman Kingdoms of Lundun, Glouvia, and Atrebatia in south central Britain, sat on his horse as the sun sank in the west. He looked out over the plains that stretched north from Lapis Tituli; bodies littered the ground as far as the eyes could see, and blood had stained the green grasses a reddish-brown. Search parties moved across the field of battle, looking for survivors who could be saved and identifying the dead and dying. They also had orders to kill any Saxons who were still alive. The carrion birds, who were attracted to battles like moths to an open flame, were already feeding on the bodies farthest from the search parties.

Ambrosius’ standard unfurled in the wind. The gold dragon on a field of red rippled and snapped as the wind gusted in the evening light. His standard bearer had to shift his stance to keep the flagpole from being torn from his grip.

Such a terrible loss of life. We won the day, but the cost was too high. I must build more forts along the Saxon frontier to watch what Hengist and Horsa are up to. We barely had any warning that they were moving northwest.

The sound of horses brought Ambrosius back to the present. He turned and saw his allies approaching. King Gerren Llyngesoc of Dumnonia in the southwest corner of Britain, King Triffyn Farfog of Dyfed in southwestern Wales, King Cynyr Ceinfarfog of Gwent in southeastern Wales, and King Ogrfan Gawr of Ergyng in southeastern Wales soon joined him on the ridge that overlooked the battlefield.

“The Saxons have retreated back behind their borders, Lord Ambrosius,” Ogrfan said. “They’re leaving their dead and wounded behind for us to deal with.”

“Kill their wounded, and burn the bodies of all of the Saxons,” Ambrosius ordered.

“What about their weapons and equipment?” Triffyn asked.

“Burn everything Saxon. They’re a pestilence on Britain, and I don’t want anything of theirs to remain.”

“Where was King Vortigern today?” Cynyr asked. “I never once saw the red dragon on a field of green. We sent messengers, but he and his army never came.”

“You can’t expect him to take up arms against his father-in-law, can you?” Ogrfan asked. “When he took Rowenna into his bed, he turned his back on the Council of Kings. You’ll never see Vortigern’s standard in battle again unless he’s fighting us.”

“We must call for a Council of Kings and elect a new High King, Lord Ambrosius,” Gerren stated. “Vortigern has betrayed us. His Saxon allies are growing too numerous for us to defend against. If we don’t raise up someone who will drive the Saxons from our shores, we’ll find ourselves being ruled by Hengist and his sons before long.”

The other kings agreed.

Ambrosius stared at the field below him, deep in thought. After several minutes, he said, “We created the position of High King to lead our armies in battle and to prevent us from fighting among ourselves. If we remove Vortigern as High King and elect someone to replace him, we risk civil war, which will only benefit Hengist and his allies. But we can’t continue having a High King who refuses to fight the Saxons because he’s married to one. Vortigern must go, but we can’t risk handing Britain to Hengist because we’re too busy fighting each other.”

“Vortigern will be handing Britain to Hengist if we don’t risk it,” Gerren said.

Ambrosius nodded as he watched the search parties.

Uther arrived at Nudd-Lludd’s fortress in Bryneich two weeks after Easter. King Ceretic of Strathclyde, King Mor of Ebrauc, and King Gwrast of Rheged arrived on the same day. Merlin didn’t accompany Uther on this journey. He remained behind at Din Eidyn in his role as Regent while Uther was away.

Uther had just settled in and was about to search for the others when a servant ran up to him. “My Lord, Uther. King Nudd-Lludd requests that you join him in the great hall.”

Uther followed the servant. He arrived in the great hall and found the other kings waiting for him. Nudd-Lludd could barely hide the smile on his face.

“I have a son!” Nudd-Lludd blurted out when he saw Uther.

Uther and the other kings congratulated their host. A servant brought Uther a tankard of ale, and Uther toasted his friend.

“What did you name him?” Mor asked.

“Well, I wanted to name him Bedivere, but like Ygerna, my wife prefers Welsh names. We named him Bedwyr.”

Uther and the other kings laughed. They knew that the queens of the northern kingdoms were headstrong and often got their way.

As servants brought in food, and the kings filled their plates, Nudd-Lludd pulled Uther aside. “I must speak with you privately, Uther.”

Uther nodded. “Are your wife and son all right?”

“Oh, they’re doing fine,” Nudd-Lludd assured him. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Nudd-Lludd led Uther into a chamber just off the great hall so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Have you heard what happened at Lapis Tituli?”

Uther shook his head. “Where’s that?”

“On the southeastern coast near the Saxon frontier. A messenger arrived today with the news. Hengist crossed his borders with his army and tried to move west and north into Lunden and Atrebatia.”

“Ambrosius’ lands.”

Nudd-Lludd nodded. “Ambrosius raised his army, along with the armies of Dumnonia, Dyfed, Gwent, and Ergyng. He chased the Saxons back, and the two forces met at Lapis Tituli. By the end of the day, the Saxons had retreated behind their borders, but the losses on both sides were terrible.”

“Gwent? Isn’t King Cynyr married to Vortigern’s daughter?”

Nudd-Lludd nodded. “When Vortimer deposed his father, Cynyr joined him in his fight with Hengist and Horsa. But he didn’t fight with Vortimer against Ambrosius. He’s been allied with Ambrosius for years.”

“And where was Vortigern during the battle?” Uther asked.

“No one knows,” Nudd-Lludd replied softly. “He refused to answer Ambrosius’ calls for help.”

Uther was shocked. “Hengist launches an invasion, and the High King is nowhere to be found? Has his marriage to Rowenna corrupted him that much?”

Nudd-Lludd shook his head. “I don’t know. But the messenger also said that the southern kings are calling for a Council of Kings to address Vortigern’s apparent treachery against Britain.”

“When?”

“The first of May,” Nudd-Lludd replied. “King Ogrfan of Ergyng has offered to host the Council.”

“I can’t believe that it has finally come to this,” Uther said. “Do the others know?”

“No,” Nudd-Lludd replied. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell them or not.”

“You have to tell them,” Uther said firmly. “The meeting’s just over a month away. They need time to prepare for the journey.”

Nudd-Lludd nodded glumly. Uther knew that the discussion arising from the announcement would put a damper on the celebration of Bedwyr’s birth. Uther put his hand on Nudd-Lludd’s arm.

“You don’t have to tell them now, of course. It can wait until they’ve eaten and drunk their fill.”

Nudd-Lludd’s face brightened. “You make an excellent point, Lord Uther.”

Uther smiled. “Then why don’t we join them and get the celebrations started?”

Nudd-Lludd led Uther back to the great hall, where the other kings had already begun the celebration that would last until well past midnight.

Vortigern, King of Gwynedd in northern Wales and High King of Britain, raced back to his fortress at Carn Fadrun. Sweat glistened on his horse’s neck, and its breathing had become labored, but Vortigern pressed on as the sun rose over the hills to the east.

He had seen the messenger leaving the fortress a few minutes earlier. He’ll have given the message to Rowenna. I can’t have her send it on to her father until I know what it is.

He rode through the gates to the foot of the stone keep in the center. The fortress, originally built by the Roman Legions based in the northwest corner of Gwynedd, had been the home of one of the Roman governors of Britain. Now it served as Vortigern’s primary residence and the capital of Gwynedd.

He ran up the stairs to the keep. “Rowenna!” he bellowed as he entered.

“Here, my Lord,” she replied calmly as she appeared from behind him.

“What did the messenger want?” Vortigern demanded.

“There was a battle at Lapis Tituli in the south. Ambrosius raised the southern armies and slaughtered hundreds of my father’s men.”

“Why didn’t he send for me to reinforce his position?” Vortigern demanded.

“Unknown, my Lord,” Rowenna said smoothly, providing no indication that she had intercepted all of the messages sent from Ambrosius and his allies. “Perhaps he doesn’t feel that he needs your permission or your assistance to murder my people.”

Vortigern glared at her. He normally found her beauty intoxicating, but he was too irritated by the news from Lapis Tituli to let himself get distracted. “What else did the messenger say?”

“Only that a Council of Kings has been called for the first of May in Ergyng. The southern kings demanded the meeting.”

“They summoned me to a Council meeting?” Vortigern asked darkly.

Rowenna nodded. “As if they can summon their High King like you’d call for a servant. Have they no respect for your office?”

“Apparently not,” he replied. “Anything else?”

Rowenna shook her head. “Will you allow my father to attend the Council of Kings meetings?”

Vortigern gaped at her. “Are you insane? If Hengist shows up at the Council meeting, the kings will either think that it’s the Night of the Long Knives all over again, or they’ll do to your father what he did to the British leaders after the Battle of Rithergabail ten years ago. There’s no way I can allow him to attend.”

“He is the king of a British kingdom,” Rowenna noted.

“Only because he calls himself a king,” Vortigern retorted. “He was never granted a kingdom in Britain. He was granted land to settle as payment for his help against the troublesome Irish, Picts, and Caledonians. That he now calls himself ‘king’ is one of the reasons so many of the true British kings don’t trust me any longer.”

“And if you continue to dismiss his title, what do you think will happen the next time the Irish, Picts, or Caledonians invade your borders?” Rowenna asked. “He could just as easily withhold his support from you when you need it the most. Can you really afford for him to do that?”

“Don’t threaten me, Rowenna!” Vortigern barked. “You may be Hengist’s daughter, but I’m your husband. Remember your place.”

Rowenna lowered her eyes. “Of course, my Lord.”

Vortigern strode down the hallway to his private chambers. Why did I ever marry her in the first place? It was madness! I was so captivated by her beauty that I’d have given my kingdom to possess her. And now look at what has happened. Vortimer and my other sons rebelled against me and took my kingdom from me. Cadeyrn was killed ten years ago by Hengist at Rithergabail, Vortimer was killed five years ago by Ambrosius at Wallop, and now my two youngest sons, Pascent and Faustus, are dead from some mysterious illness. I have no one to rule Gwynedd once I’m gone, and now the Council of Kings may strip me of the High Kingship of Britain.

Vortigern looked at his war banner on the wall of his private chamber. The red dragon on a field of green hung limp on its pole – powerless in the low light of the dying fire. I’ll never give up the High Kingship willingly. Rowenna is pregnant. She’ll give me a son to be king after I’m gone. Her father will support me should the kings turn on me. Gwynedd is mine, and Britain is mine. They’ll never take either from me.

Vortigern called a servant to build up the fire. As he stared at the flames spreading to the new wood, he remembered something he needed to do quickly. Until I know for certain that Rowenna is pregnant with a boy, I need to name my nephew, Ynyr, as Regent and my heir should something happen to me. Gwynedd needs a strong king if I’m no longer here.

Uther stood next to Nudd-Lludd the next morning as the other kings were informed about the Battle at Lapis Tituli and the summoning of the Council of Kings. In spite of the quantity of ale consumed the night before, the news sobered them up immediately.

“The first of May in Ergyng?” Gwrast of Rheged repeated. “It hardly seems worth the effort for the rest of you to return home and then set out again for southeastern Wales. Why don’t you all travel to Luguvalium with me? We can spend a few days hunting and then travel to Ergyng together.”

Uther and Ceretic nodded immediately.

Gwrast looked at Nudd-Lludd and Mor. “What say you two?”

Nudd-Lludd smiled. “Count me in!”

Mor looked at the others. “That’s a great idea. I just need to borrow a messenger to let my wife know what I’m doing and that I won’t be home for several weeks.”

“Me, too,” Uther and Ceretic said in unison.

“And I need to tell my wife that we’re coming,” Gwrast said.

“I’ll make my messengers available to you, my friends,” Nudd-Lludd said pleasantly. “It’ll be good to travel together to the Council meeting.”

Uther looked at the others. I wonder if we’ll be traveling together AFTER the Council meeting. Will we still be friends if the Council decides to depose Vortigern once and for all?

Merlin stood at the top of the causeway as the messenger from Bryneich arrived. The messenger handed Merlin the dispatches from Uther and rode back toward the village below to rest his horse before returning to King Nudd-Lludd.

Merlin read Uther’s letters twice before heading for the great house to inform Ygerna that the kings had been summoned to a Council meeting.

“What is it, Merlin?” Ygerna asked when he entered the newly completed nursery.

Merlin held up the dispatches. “Messages from Uther, my Lady. A Council of Kings has been summoned in Ergyng on the first of May. He and the other kings gathered at Bryneich are leaving from there and traveling together. They’re going to Rheged first, and then Ergyng. He expects to be home in late May.”

Ygerna held out her hand. Merlin gave her the letters. “I see. Does my husband say anything about Nudd-Lludd’s baby?”

Merlin smiled. “It was a boy, born two weeks after Easter. They named him Bedwyr, which is Welsh for Bedivere.”

Ygerna glanced at Uther’s letters. “There was another battle in the south. Is that why the Council has been summoned? Are they going to elect a new High King and replace Vortigern?”

“Uther wasn’t clear about that in the letters, my Lady, but that’s probably why the Council was summoned and what they’re meeting to discuss.”

“Which of the kings do you think they’ll choose?” Ygerna asked.

“Ambrosius,” Merlin replied. “Uther and the southern kings support him. I don’t know about the Welsh kings or the other northern kings.”

“This could lead to war, couldn’t it?”

Merlin nodded. “I know that Uther hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but Vortigern is no friend of Britain’s any longer, so the sooner he’s replaced, the sooner we can reunite against the Saxons and their allies.”

“Are there any preparations that we need to make here in case one of our neighbors sides against Uther?” Ygerna asked.

Merlin looked at his queen with admiration. She thinks like Uther. No wonder they’re so good together.

“There are,” he replied, “I’ll get started on them immediately.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Ygerna said, looking at Prince Arthur sleeping in his crib. “Keep me informed.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Uther and the other northern kings arrived at King Ogrfan’s fortress in Ergyng the day before the Council meeting was to begin. Most of the other kings had already arrived. Even King Budic had arrived from Brittany, even though he wasn’t a voting member of the Council. Only two kings were missing: Vortigern and Ambrosius.

Uther and the other northern kings settled into their chambers quickly before seeking out the other kings. It had been several years since the Council had met, and there were friendships to rekindle and deals to be struck before the meetings began.

Ambrosius arrived at nightfall. The other kings were in the great hall when he strode in. Ambrosius immediately congratulated Uther and Nudd-Lludd on the births of their sons before making his rounds to greet the other kings.

As the evening progressed, Uther thought that the gathering seemed congenial enough, but he sensed the tension building. I hope the meetings don’t tear our alliance apart. We cannot stand against the Saxons unless a strong High King keeps us united.

The next morning, servants brought in a large table and set it in the center of the great hall. The banners of each of the kings present stood in holders behind their assigned places. Uther saw his standard – the gold boar on a field of dark blue – and stood behind his seat. Each king was allowed to have a dagger for food, but their swords had to remain outside the great hall. As the kings took their seats, one remained empty: Vortigern’s.

Uther stared at the empty seat. Is he coming? Does he think that he no longer has to answer to us?

There were nervous whispers around the room. Finally, Ambrosius, sitting directly across from Vortigern’s empty chair, stood to address the Council. Before he could speak, there was a commotion in the courtyard outside the great hall. A moment later, Vortigern stormed into the hall, followed by his standard-bearer. The High King crossed to the far side of the great hall without a word. Then he snatched his standard from the standard-bearer, slammed it into its holder, and turned to face the assembled kings.

“How dare you summon this Council without consulting me first?”