The Dragon's Banner (11 page)

He saw the tears welling up in her eyes
again, streaking down her pale cheeks. "I say this not to hurt you,
but yet it is truth. Even if Lord Uther should return, naught is
the chance that you could be together. For if this alliance is not
made it is likely that all of Powys, indeed, all of Britannia,
shall be plunged into darkness. Know you Lord Uther well enough
that you cannot imagine his father's kingdom falling while he yet
lives. No, Uther Pendragon will not outlive defeat. Many would he
slay in a hopeless struggle, and yet be overthrown in the end by
the multitudes and himself finally slain.

"And even should this not come to pass, no
way is there that you could be betrothed to him after we had
refused his father's command. Think you King Constantine would
consent to the marriage of his son to the daughter of a disobedient
and treacherous vassal?"

Finally Igraine spoke, her voice faint but
clear. "I beg thee, father, to give me some time alone, for I must
make peace with this cruel fate." Her voice was sadness itself.

Elisedd's mouth opened as if he were about to
speak, but again, he could not easily find the words. Igraine put
her fingers to his lips. "Please, father. I blame you not, nor
doubt your love. Please leave me. Just for a short while."

Elisedd paused briefly and then turned to
walk away, his face a mask of pain nearly as acute as that his
daughter wore. He stepped to the door and stopped momentarily,
turning as if to say something else. But he was silent, and after a
brief glance back at Igraine, he opened the heavy oak door and
walked out into the hallway.

Igraine sat on the edge of the bed, her hand
absentmindedly rubbing the soft fur bedcover as she thought. Sure
she was that Uther felt the same as she, yet did that matter? For
all her father said was true, and indeed, if she refused to marry
Gorlois and the alliance faltered, would she be responsible for
sending her love to his death in a hopeless war? Uther Pendragon
would never yield to an enemy, she was certain of that...not even
if she begged him to do so.

Igraine was intelligent, and as a result of
her father's indulgence, she was educated as well. Her thoughts and
desires screamed for release, trapped though they were, for she was
also the dutiful daughter of a noble lord. Could she refuse and
bring dishonor on her family, and perhaps even punishment and
retribution onto her father? Certain she was that no joy or
happiness lay in the future King Constantine had decreed for her,
only pain and longing for lost love. Yet, she cared more for other
things than her own happiness - for her father and family, for the
land, which would surely suffer if Cornwall did not join the
alliance. And mostly for Uther, her love, who she knew would fight
to the death no matter what the odds, for to yield was not in
him.

What will happen to father, she thought, for
if I obey I will be far away in Cornwall, and he will be alone.
Elisedd had never truly recovered from the loss of Igraine's
mother, dead these last ten years from a fever which nearly took
the daughter as well. He too will go to war, she thought, but if he
returns, what joy will be left to him?

She thought of Uther, far away on whatever
trail she knew not, and she prayed that he be safe and return
unharmed. "Forget me, my love," she said softly to herself, "for
fate has played us as fools. Forever shall I love thee, yet
together we can never be together, and I would not have you suffer
as I do. I pray you find happiness and some woman to love who can
give you the sons I now cannot."

She closed her eyes and lay on the bed, for
even the will to sit upright drained away from her. On her side she
lay, sobbing softly to herself, resigned to her fate yet lost in
despair.

Tintagel Castle stood stark and imposing,
silhouetted against the red light of the setting sun. A great stone
keep, built on the foundations of a ruined Roman coastal fort,
Tintagel was the home of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall. Tintagel was a
marvel to behold, a vast fortress rising darkly above the crashing
sea. Built upon the cliffs, with water on three sides, Tintagel
seemed to mock any who would seek to assail it. Gorlois was known
throughout the land, for though not yet regarded a king, he ruled
nearly all of Cornwall and had more subjects and commanded more
warriors than any monarch of Britannia, save Constantine.

A great procession now approached the castle,
moving slowly along the winding road in the fading light of dusk.
At the front rode the heralds, carrying the blue and silver banners
of House Pendragon, for King Constantine himself was come to visit
Gorlois. With him rode Lord Elisedd and his daughter, for Igraine
was to be presented to Gorlois as his prospective bride. Also in
the party were the counselors of King Constantine and the other
monarchs, for the final terms of alliance were to be concluded
during this visit. If Gorlois accepted Igraine and the terms of the
treaty were agreed upon, the wedding would occur in the spring at
Caer Guricon, at which time the grand alliance would come into
being.

For half a mile the party stretched, with
wagons, servants, and 100 men-at-arms riding two-abreast on the
twisting, narrow road. Seventy leagues they had ridden, and they
had left Caer Guricon a fortnight before. Their stay would be
brief, for though the weather had been fair, fall would soon give
way to winter, and Constantine wished to return before the snows
came.

The summer had been lost to endless
negotiations, with emissaries journeying furiously between Caer
Guricon and Tintagel. Gorlois had been difficult, as Constantine
and Merlin had foreseen, and the scribes were kept busy recording
and revising the many terms of the treaty. Through tireless effort,
they had finally drafted a document that all parties seemed like to
accept, for Merlin had ceaselessly visited the kings, seeking their
agreement. Many respected Merlin greatly for his wisdom and were
wont to heed his words. Others feared him as a wizard quick to
anger, and this too he used to his advantage. Even Constantine he
manipulated somewhat, for though they both sought the same result,
Merlin was the more able to ignore grudges and past grievances.
Never would he betray Constantine, but his guidance he provided
both openly and through subtler means.

When they arrived at Tintagel, the great
gates were thrown open, and Gareth, Gorlois' marshal greeted the
party, bowing before Constantine and welcoming them with great
ceremony. "Greetings to thee, King Constantine, most noble and
welcome visitor. And to thy entire party, lords, counselors,
retainers...welcome to all."

Constantine flushed with rage, for it was an
insult, and a calculated one, for Gorlois not to meet him
personally. Merlin foresaw this, and he was next to Constantine
when the king was about to speak. "We thank you, Lord Gareth,"
declared Merlin, cutting off Constantine's pending response. "King
Constantine is most anxious to see the duke, for long it has been
since they have broken bread together, and he has much to speak of
with his new ally."

None but Merlin would have dared interrupt
Constantine, and indeed, the king felt a brief rush of anger toward
his advisor and friend. But Constantine felt Merlin's gentle touch
on his shoulder, and his rage subsided, for he realized what his
wise old friend had done. By speaking to Gareth he had preserved
Constantine's honor, for Merlin had acted as an intermediary just
as Gareth had done for Gorlois, turning back the duke's attempt to
place himself above the king. "And now we pray you present us to
the duke," Merlin continued, "for far have we traveled to seek his
counsel and company."

The royal party was escorted into the keep,
where rooms had been prepared for them. They wished to refresh
themselves and shed their stained travel clothes, for Gorlois had
bid them join him for supper in the great hall. The men-at-arms and
servants were billeted with Gorlois' own guards, as there was no
room in the main tower for such a multitude.

When they had prepared themselves, they were
escorted to the hall. Constantine was clad in a rich blue tunic
embroidered with the silver dragon of his house, and on his head we
wore the golden crown of Powys. Beside him stood Merlin, wearing a
simple gray robe and carrying his staff.

Elisedd walked behind them, attired similarly
to Constantine, and at his side was Igraine, wearing a green silk
gown that shimmered in the flickering candlelight. Her hair was
intertwined with strands of small gemstones, and her beauty was
surpassing. This was all the more amazing, for little time had her
ladies to prepare her. That beauty was cold, though, lacking its
former warmth, and her green eyes had lost their luster. Of old
they had sparkled like emeralds, but now they were dead, beautiful
still, but more like jade, solid and without depth.

The great hall of Tintagel Castle was a
massive room, the timbered ceiling rising 30 feet above the stone
floor. A long table had been set up, and standing before it was
Gorlois, master of Tintagel and Duke of Cornwall. He was clad in a
yellow and green tunic, for these were his colors, and around his
neck he wore a great medallion wrought of fine gold. Modest of
height was Gorlois, but broad in the shoulders and heavy of build.
His face was dominated by a huge and misshapen nose, and a jagged
scar ran down the right side from his forehead to his jaw. Long
thin strands of oily hair hung irregularly from his large head.

"Constantine, my old friend, it has been far
too long since we have broken bread together."

"Indeed, Gorlois, much too long." Constantine
ignored the impropriety of the overly familiar greeting.

Gorlois looked approvingly at Elisedd and the
striking young woman standing at his side. "And this must be
Igraine. She is indeed beautiful, as your counselors have said so
earnestly insisted. Perhaps they even understated her loveliness.
Lord Elisedd, with your permission, I would have your daughter
seated next to me that we may begin to acquaint ourselves. Of
course, you will sit with us."

Elisedd nodded his assent. "Of course, Lord
Gorlois. Igraine would be most pleased to sit beside you at
supper."

Gorlois smiled. "Then let us be seated, for I
would be a poor host indeed if I withheld supper from my guests who
have traveled so far to see me." He looked to his chamberlain.
"Supper is to be served immediately."

Gorlois sat at the head of the table, with
Igraine and Elisedd flanking him. Constantine was seated at the far
end, with Merlin on his right. To his left sat Gorlois' top
counselor, Hugh the White. Constantine was more or less silent
during supper, listening as Merlin and Hugh sparred over the final
treaty provisions. He smiled to himself, for though Hugh was a wily
and capable advisor, no man got the better of Merlin.

Constantine looked across the table and saw
that Gorlois was quite taken with Igraine. He had known the girl
since she'd been born, and he knew her to be intelligent and
capable. Sadly, he thought, Gorlois would only appreciate her great
beauty and ability to give him sons. He found himself wishing that
he could have arranged a better marriage for her, for he knew she
would have little happiness with Gorlois. Indeed, if Merlin was
right and Uther was taken with the girl, she would have made a fine
daughter-in-law, and such a wife would have done his son much good.
Alas, it could not be so, for fate had intervened and set the
girl's destiny. Igraine would seal the alliance in her marriage
bed, and nothing could be allowed to prevent that.

Igraine sat next to Gorlois and tried to
maintain the smile it was her duty to wear. She had no appetite,
and she pushed her food around, eating just enough so no one would
notice. Gorlois asked her questions, and she gave him the short and
simple answers she knew he expected, for it was clear he was not a
man to appreciate a woman's intelligence. Little would he want from
her, save her body and his heirs. Such a life would be enough for
some, she supposed, for this was a good match, and her son would
rule vast lands one day. She thought sadly, should that be enough
for me? Am I but a foolish girl to imagine more? She tried to
resign herself to her fate, but her heart ached at the emptiness of
it all. And try as she might, she could not banish Uther Pendragon
from her thoughts.

There have been women, she thought to
herself, who have commanded their own fates, and set their own
destinies. How many times had she heard the king speak of Galla
Placidia? Though Constantine hated the woman and cursed her to
hell, it was clear that she'd led her own life, made her own
choices. How does one do that, she wondered. For I must betray
father and king and country to escape this bitter fate, and indeed,
my love Uther would need do the same. Nay, she thought to herself,
I cannot betray my family and lord, neither can I allow Uther to do
so for me. I shall marry this crude and foul lord and give up hope
of happiness in this life.

Thus resolved, Igraine tried her best to
feign interest in Gorlois' stories, for in his own conceited way he
was trying to win her affections. At last, though it had seemed to
her the night would never end, Constantine bade his host to excuse
his party, for they had journeyed far and were greatly
fatigued.

Her father escorted her to her chamber, where
her ladies prepared her for bed. Long after the supper had ended,
she lay awake, staring at the crescent moon through the window, for
sleep eluded her. She was resolved to do her duty, yet in her heart
was naught but the cold ache of utter hopelessness.

"Go you now! For you must reach King Urien
and tell him of this." Lord Arailt spoke with great effort, for he
was hurt to the death. He lay in the new fallen snow, under a
massive oak where his retainers had carried him, mortally wounded,
from the field. His face was crusted with blood and his chest rent
open by the blow that had struck him down. His ripped chainmail
shirt dangled loosely from his mangled body. His blood-soaked cloak
lay over him, for it was fearsomely cold, and his distraught
warriors sought to comfort him any way they could.