The Dragon's Banner (20 page)

Now, the warmth of the fire brought some
feeling back to his frozen and exhausted body. Servants arrived,
bearing flagons of hot wine and trays of food, and King Urien
himself poured a cup and served it to Uther. "My thanks to you,
Lord Uther and my loyalty and friendship for all time. You have
saved my kingdom and people, and ever shall you and your brave
warriors be welcome in Rheged."

"King Urien," Uther replied, "honored I am to
count you as an ally. Much there is we must discuss, for little can
you know of events in the south."

"I am most anxious to hear all you have to
tell me. Yet a poor host, and worse friend, would I be if I did not
offer you food and see your wounds properly tended."

"Indeed, I am hungry. I had quite forgotten
food for the cold and the battle, but now the warmth of your hall
restores my vitality, and I would gladly accept your hospitality.
Let us sit and eat and talk of things, for the wound will wait
until supper is finished. Caelin has done a credible job of
bandaging, and I am sure it shall hold for now." They sat together
and ate, for Urien's servants had brought large plates heaped with
bread and salted meats and cheeses.

"Alas, I fear my larder is rather bare. I
wish that I had more to offer than this poor fare."

Uther smiled. "After a fortnight on the
winter trail, such as you have set before me is a feast worthy of
an emperor." He took his knife and skewered a large hunk of salt
pork, dumping it on the plate in front of him and sawing off a
slice.

After Uther had filled his plate, Urien took
a hunk of bread and a large slice of cheese. "I have given orders
that all of your men be fed and their wounds tended. Your warriors
shall all sleep indoors tonight, for I cannot imagine the ordeal
you all suffered in marching to our aid in such weather. We had
been rationing our firewood, but now with the siege broken, there
shall be no hearth unlit tonight."

Uther washed down the slice of pork with a
hearty gulp of wine. "You have my thanks, Urien, for our march was
hard indeed, and the losses we bore today were bitter. Other
tidings I bear, and these also are dark, for my brothers are all
slain, and my father lies in Caer Guricon, close to death."

Urien looked up from his plate with a start.
"All of your brothers dead? And old Constantine dying? How did
things come to such a pass?"

"My brothers were all killed in the field.
Indeed, Constans fell leading a relief force north to aid you last
summer. I fear there were spies in his host, for they were ambushed
on the march and my brother slain. I would have you know that my
father did not ignore your need, and that he did try to send forces
to your aid."

"Never did I doubt your father, yet I could
not divine why no help had come. For almost a year I looked to the
south each dawn and dusk, waiting, praying to see the relieving
army marching to our aid. When I saw the torches of your forces
charging down the hillside it was as if the fires of hell had come
forth to swallow the enemy."

Urien looked down at the table silently for a
moment. "Sorry I am about your father, yet not surprised. For at
the council I thought he was troubled by some ill, though he fought
mightily to hide it. But your brothers…all three of them. These are
evil tidings. Such loss you have suffered. I would offer my
condolences and my respect to the fallen."

"I thank you for your kind words. Yet we must
purpose ourselves to the task that lies ahead, for many battles
remain before us, I fear. Time enough to mourn the dead when the
fight is won."

"You shall be king of Powys. All my life I
have been destined for the throne. Since boyhood I have been
trained to be king, and every waking moment was tasked to that
purpose until the thought of wearing the crown was hateful. Yet
such was the calling of my birth. But you, my friend, find the
kingship falling to you unexpected. Many burdens does the crown
carry, as you will no doubt come to see. As you have indeed already
come to know."

"Fate does not ask our council.” Uther’s tone
was matter-of-fact. "King I shall be, whether I will it or no. But
if I am to be king, then I shall be also high king, for such was my
father's right, and by succession, mine. This land must be united.
No more can we waste our strength fighting among ourselves while
invaders and usurpers gain power."

"I was prepared to accept your father as high
king.” Urien’s eyes bored into Uther’s as he spoke. "In you I
perceive a strength such as I have never seen in another. I, Urien,
King of Rheged, will be the first to accept you as High King of
Britannia. And at your side I shall fight this war - north, south,
east, west, wherever the enemy may be. Wherever you command me to
go, I shall go. Let it be victory or death."

"Honored I am to accept your fealty and your
friendship. I shall have great need of warriors and honorable
friends such as you."

When they had supped, Urien sent for his
sister, Andra, and bade her stitch up Uther's wound. Andra came
into the hall, clad in a simple yellow dress. She was beautiful,
with long dark hair and shimmering blue eyes, and she bowed before
Uther, smiling sweetly as she sat beside him and slowly unwound the
blood-crusted bandage from his arm. Uther winced slightly as Andra
pulled the wound together and began stitching. Urien was thinking
also of matches, for his sister would make an ideal wife for Uther.
But no thought did Uther give to a wife, or indeed to any woman
save one, and she was far away and not his.

Uther remained at Carlisle for a month after
the battle, for his men had suffered greatly and needed rest. Many
days the heralds had spent tallying the fallen, and no record has
survived with reliable numbers of those slain at the battle, now
called Gwen Ystrad. Yet it is said that a generation of Picts fell,
and fewer than one in five ever returned to their lands in the
north. Those few that did brought with them tales of the terrible
warrior king, Uther Pendragon. For days the fires smoldered as the
victors burned the bodies of the dead invaders. It was a decade or
more before the northerners again troubled the Britons living to
the south, and never again did they do so in the same numbers.

Uther had lost a third of his men, though of
these, many were wounded and would heal to fight again. Urien's
forces suffered greater losses, for they had endured nearly a year
of siege, and many had succumbed to pestilence and disease or died
defending the walls. Barely 600 men remained under arms in
Carlisle, and in Uxelodunum, only seventy of the original five
hundred defenders marched out of the relieved fortress.

In the weeks following the battle, Urien was
strengthened by the arrival of the contingents of those lords who
had been unable to reach Carlisle before it was cut off and
besieged. Predominantly from the remote western regions of the
kingdom, together they fielded over 700 men, mostly mounted men at
arms.

One evening, about a month after the battle,
Uther came to Urien, for they had much to discuss. His wound was
nearly healed, for Andra had been very attentive. Uther became fond
of the girl, but his heart belonged to his lost love, then and
always, and he made certain not to give Urien's sister hope of more
than his gratitude and friendship.

"Urien, my friend.” Uther spoke as he walked
into the throne room. "I would speak with you if I may."

"Indeed, you may speak with me anytime, for
already do I regard you as my high king, and the war leader of the
alliance. What may I do for you?"

"I would charge you with a dangerous task,
for I must soon return to Powys. If we have not yet been attacked
there, we soon shall be, and I can waste no more time now. Yet
still must I find out what has happened to King Lot, for there has
been no word from Luthien in many months.

"I will leave you a thousand of my men to
augment your forces. Carlisle will be safe from attack for the near
future, and I believe you can leave it lightly held. I would bid
you take an army north and east and find out what has happened in
Luthien. I know that Rheged and Luthien have ever had disputes, but
now we are all allied, and it stains the honor of all if any of us
is left to face the enemy alone."

"Such feuds of old shall not trouble us.”
Urien spoke with obvious sincereity. “I am committed to help you
unite Britannia under your high kingship. I shall do as you bid,
now and always. Five hundred men shall garrison Carlisle along with
what remains of the town watch, and the rest shall march to
Luthien."

"I am grateful for your loyalty. If I have
allies such as you then I do not doubt for our victory."

The two of them sat, discussing strategy for
Urien's march to Luthien when a servant entered the room and bowed
to them both. "King Urien, a messenger has arrived from Caer
Guricon and craves admittance to see Lord Uther. He says his
business is urgent."

Urien glanced at Uther, then back to the
servant. "Send him in immediately, Emlyn."

The servant bowed again and hurried out into
the corridor, returning a moment later with a tall warrior clad in
armor and the blue and silver livery of Caer Guricon's house guard.
The visitor bowed to Urien and then knelt before Uther, awaiting
permission to speak.

Uther knew the visitor, for he was one of the
captains of Caer Guricon. "Speak, Grigor, for you have traveled
long to see me. Who dispatched you?"

"Merlin bade me come to you, sire, for he
sends me with grave tidings. You father, God bless his soul, is
dead."

Urien's face showed his grief, but Uther sat
impassively, and he replied without emotion. "Thank you, Grigor,
for bringing me this news. Have you other messages from
Merlin?"

"Yes, my king," replied the still-kneeling
warrior. He handed Uther a worn leather pouch full of
parchments.

Uther reached out and took the satchel, and
noticing that the messenger was still kneeling he motioned for him
to stand. "Rise, Grigor, for you and I have bled together in
battle. I would not have you wear holes in the knees of your
pants."

Grigor rose and, reaching into a sack he had
slung over his shoulder he pulled a small package, wrapped
carefully in silken cloth. He handed it reverently to Uther. "He
sent this as well, sire."

Uther took the bundle, and removed the silk
coverings. In his hands he held the crown of Powys, solid gold,
with five silver dragons perched along the top. The dragon's eyes
were sparkling red gems, and along the bottom there was detailed
scrollwork, listing the names of the kings of Powys. At the end of
the list, freshly engraved, was written, Uther I. Uther found
himself amused that his name was already on the crown. He thought
to himself, you waste no time, do you Merlin? Indeed, he thought,
Merlin is wise as always, for we have no time to waste.

"I thank you again, Grigor. You shall join
our forces here, for I have need of loyal and true captains. Soon
we will march back to Caer Guricon, for though we have won a
victory here, it is but a brief respite, and the forces moving
against us are still stronger then we."

"We shall march into hell itself, sire, if
you lead us there.” Grigor looked at Uther with great reverence. No
enemy shall stand in our wake."

Uther's granite expression yielded to a tiny
smile. "Your loyalty is greatly valued, Grigor. But now I command
you to rest, for your journey was long, and I suspect you slept
little on your way. Go now, and eat and sleep, and we shall speak
again later.

Urien commanded his servant to make quarters
ready for Grigor and to have the kitchens prepare a supper for the
new arrival. Bowing again, the servant bade Grigor to follow, and
the two of them walked out into the corridor, leaving Urien and
Uther alone to speak long into the night.

Uther stood before the assembled army, for he
had ordered all his captains to form their men in the plain north
of Carlisle. On his head was the crown of Powys, and though it
perched well upon him, he found it carried a weight far greater
than that of just the gold and silver from which it was forged. For
though he had already acted as king for many months, the priceless
treasure he wore was a constant reminder of the burdens that were
now his, and would always be until he closed his eyes for the final
time.

As he stepped out onto the battlement over
the main gate and looked down on the warriors assembled below, some
in the front saw the crown on his head. Understanding the
significance, they began to shout, "Hail Uther, king!" It began
among a small group of the men from Powys, but soon the entire army
chanted his name, and men from Rheged and Cornwall joined his own
soldiers in celebrating his kingship.

He held out his arms to quiet them, but the
tumult continued, and it was many minutes before he was able to
speak. Finally he spoke, his voice loud and strong. "King
Constantine is dead. May God bless his immortal soul."

The wave of noise from the troops rose again,
not quite as loudly, as many of the troops shouted blessings for
Constantine. Uther waited for the shouting to subside and then
continued. "My father began a great undertaking before he died,
bringing together this mighty alliance, and we are going to see
this war through to its victorious finish!"

Again Uther had to pause, for the shouts from
the army were deafening. "This is not just Powys' fight, nor is it
only Rheged's or Cornwall's, for all Britannia faces the same
peril. Alone, none of us can stand, but united we will drive the
invaders into the sea and punish those of our countrymen who have
treacherously allied with the barbarians!"

The cries rose again, thousands of men
cheering and shouting the same thing again and again. "Hail the
high king, Uther!"