The Dragon's Banner (3 page)

After his father had retired, Uther found
Merlin sitting before the fire in the great hall. The advisor, some
said wizard, sat quietly in a large oak chair. Next to him, on a
small wooden table, sat a silver plate and a flagon of spiced wine.
On the plate was a small honey cake, only half eaten. The room was
quiet except for the crackling of the fire and the sound of the
wolfhounds gnawing on bones in front of the hearth.

Uther entered from behind, but as he walked
through the doorway, without turning around Merlin laughed. "Ah,
Uther, my boy. I thought you would find me. It has been too long.
Much too long, my young friend. How have you fared since last I was
here? When was that...midyear last?” He paused, smiling at Uther.
“Yes, it has been far too long."

Uther stopped to play with the hounds, for
they leapt up when he entered the room and ran over to greet him.
"You have been missed, Merlin. Indeed, Caer Guricon is not the same
when you are abroad."

Merlin smiled and motioned for Uther to sit.
"Grave tasks I had to fulfill, and it is they that have kept me so
long from the company and comforts of Caer Guricon. Indeed, it was
a cold winter where I traveled long, and the warmth of this hearth
and company would have been most welcome."

"War is coming, is it not, Merlin?" Uther
walked past the dogs and took one of the other seats in the room.
"For I have read many signs, not only that my father has called the
council. He is deeply troubled, as I have never seen before." Uther
paused uncomfortably before continuing. "And he is ill, gravely so,
I fear, though he thinks he hides it."

Merlin tried to suppress a smile for, though
he knew Uther well, the boy still surprised him. "He is ill, Uther,
and it is indeed serious. I am going to make him a potion that will
ease his sufferings, yet he is old and his time grows short."

"I feared it was so.” Uther was somber, his
voice gentle. "I have noted the difference in him for some time.
Alas, I fear I have not been the son he wished me to be, and though
I am who I am, I regret that I have been a disappointment to
him."

"Nay, Uther," replied Merlin. “You are far
wide of the truth, for your father is proud of you and loves you
greatly. I have seen the two of you clash for years, to my great
amusement, for he is more akin to you than to any of your brothers.
Such it is that ofttimes like finds itself at odds with like, and
more so when both are strong of will and spirit." Merlin saw the
disbelief on Uther's face, but before the boy could respond, he
spoke further. "Uther, as you trust in my word, believe me in this,
for I speak the truth. Put your heart at rest, for we all have many
trials ahead of us, and I would not have you troubled over a grief
that exists only in your mind."

Uther was silent, lost in his own thoughts
about his father, himself, and their many arguments. He got up from
his chair and stood in front of the hearth, his eyes following the
flickering fire. Above the mantle was hung a finely crafted sword,
polished but well-worn, with a leather grip, worn smooth from long
use.

Uther's fingers traced the raised lettering
on the hilt of his grandfather's sword. "Legio XX," he read softly
to himself from the finely crafted etchings. The old man had died
long before Uther was born, but he had achieved greatness, and made
the Pendragon name one known throughout Britannia. He had risen to
become an emperor of Rome, only to be slain by his enemies through
some unrecorded treachery. Uther never tired of listening to the
stories of his famous grandsire, still remembered in these lands as
Constantine II, King of the Britons.

Merlin let the boy think for a few moments
before continuing. "Your grandsire was a great man, Uther, and
though it was his fate never to see his newborn son, I think he
would have been proud of your father. Constantine has spent his
life in the shadow of a sire who wore the purple, a man he never
knew. Never has he held his achievements to be enough. But so it
often goes with father and son. I would offer you some counsel if
you will have it."

Uther had been running his fingers down the
flat of the blade as he listened to Merlin, and now he turned to
face his friend. "Of course, Merlin. Your words I always take to
heart."

"Uther, ever have you and I been friends, for
always I have seen in you much strength and virtue. You were born,
I fear, with the heart of a king, more suited to an elder son than
the younger. Yet, you are what you are, and 'tis likely your eldest
brother shall be king, and you shall be left to serve your family
in whatever ways he deems best.

"Young though you are, I have never seen your
equal in battle, yet to be a great warrior is not enough for a
prince. For it is easy to fight any battle, even a hopeless one,
and die with honor, yet far more difficult to forego conflict, or
to treat with enemies and seek to make them allies. I would have
you learn this and to understand more of such things, for though I
know not where your future will lead, I feel there will be
greatness for you - and victory, strife, heartbreak. Be ready for
all that comes, and know that not every foe will battle you openly
on the field honorably, with armor and sword."

Uther was listening intently, for if there
was anyone whose counsel the brash young prince valued, it was
Merlin. Silently he returned to his chair and sat, the ancient
oaken seat creaking as his great bulk settled into it.

Merlin leaned toward his young friend and
spoke quietly but firmly. "I would pray thee to obey your father
and do whatever he may bid you do, for now is not the time for a
test of wills between you. Your road forward, I foresee, shall lead
places you cannot now imagine and bring you great joys and sadness,
glorious victory and terrible loss. But now, your father needs you,
no less than any of your brothers, for his strength fails and he
now faces a great struggle."

"So it is to be war then?” Uther spoke it as
a question, but he did not wait for an answer. “And we shall be
sorely pressed. Is this not truth?"

"It is.” Merlin looked at Uther with
admiration and approval. “More than you now know, for victory shall
hinge as much on diplomacy and the search for allies as on courage
in the field."

Uther frowned dismissively. "Bah! I am no
diplomat to sit and bandy words with pompous lords when battle is
in the offing."

"Indeed," interjected Merlin, "this is of
what I speak. You are a prince of a great house, Uther, not a
common soldier. Your honor and duty will demand much of you that
you do not desire. If needs be you serve your father and people as
diplomat, then so must you do."

Uther did not argue, yet Merlin saw the frown
still upon his face. "Uther, think you the empire came into being
long ages past simply by strength of arms? Indeed, have you learned
nothing from your father's own recountings of his battles with
Aetius against the Huns? Battles that would have been lost had
Aetius not forged an alliance with his old enemies to face the
greater foe? Think you he wished to treat with old adversaries and
seek their aid? Had Aetius and your father, and their comrades,
thought as you do, Rome itself would be a generation in ashes
now."

There was long silence as they sat together.
Uther rose and threw a large log into the hearth, grabbing a poker
and pushing it into place over the hottest embers. The wood hissed
for a few seconds and quickly caught, and soon the fire was
roaring, the rush of heat forcing back the chill of the damp spring
evening.

Uther was the first to break the silence.
"You speak wisely, Merlin, as always, yet I do not know if I can be
what you seek. I have no tongue for such pursuits, nor the
patience. But, I give you my oath that I shall try to complete
whatever task is given me, for I am a loyal son of my house."

Merlin smiled. "Uther, my friend - for boy no
longer seems a fit name for the man sitting here with me - I am
proud of you, though not at all surprised. You surmise correctly
that war and strife are coming, for the whole north is allied
against us, and the barbarians from across the narrow sea as well.
We shall be sorely pressed to withstand their onslaught when it
comes."

"We should strike first.” Uther was almost
shouting, his voice much louder then he'd intended. "For we shall
take them unawares and seize the initiative." He softened his voice
considerably.

"Indeed, my friend, your battle tactics are
sound and, had we two legions of old assembled and ready to march,
I should agree with you. But think you, are we prepared for war?
Last year's harvest was bad, ravaged by pestilence and early frost.
Were the levy to be called now, and the spring planting abandoned,
we would face famine by winter. Nay, we must have this year's
harvest, as must our foes. After harvest, winter shall come soon,
and the snows will make campaigning difficult. Thus, war shall not
likely be upon us until next year, for beyond the harvest there is
much else to prepare. This shall be no borderland dispute, but a
battle for all Britannia, and the smiths and armorers have immense
toils ahead before a great army takes the field."

Merlin looked intently at Uther. "And allies
we must still find, for we shall be overwhelmed without aid. This
council shall end, as all such do, with half-promises and
unfinished negotiations. Long after the kings have departed shall
diplomacy continue, for though all will fall if they do not band
together, still they will pick at old wounds and nurse ancient
grievances. Great efforts and even more profound sacrifices we
shall make if we are to withstand this test." Merlin stopped as if
he was done, and Uther sat quietly, pondering the old man’s words.
Finally, Merlin spoke again. "I know not what part you are destined
to play in all of this, my dear friend, but I feel that in some way
it will be greater than you now imagine. Embrace your fate, Uther,
and fear no challenge. You will find, I pray, that you are more
than just a great warrior."

The two of them sat for a while longer,
enjoying the fire, as the conversation turned to more pleasant and
frivolous matters. As he usually did, Uther convinced Merlin to
tell him a tale of times past. Though Merlin appeared to him much
as he did to Constantine, Uther knew that his mysterious friend was
very old indeed, and he had known many of the great men of times
past.

Finally, after talking long into the evening,
Merlin rose slowly. "Well, my friend, I am not as youthful as you,
and I have had a long and hard road of late. It is time for me to
retire. I shall see thee again on the morrow."

With that, he glided quickly to the door and
disappeared into the corridor beyond, leaving Uther to sit long
into the night and ponder the words they had shared. The fire had
burned down to ash before Uther finally rose and made his way
through the near-darkness to his chamber, his mind still deep in
thought.

Easter morning dawned clear and cool. The
town church could not hold all those who had come for the council,
so tents had been erected in a great field so mass could be held
where all could attend. All except the nobles, for they celebrated
Easter in the Pendragon chapel in the castle, where the kings
received communion from Tremorinus, Archbishop of Londinium. Though
aged and frail, the revered churchman had come at Constantine's
bidding, and his presence added solemnity and weight to the council
set to begin the next day.

Before him on their knees were seven kings,
bareheaded and silent. Twice he passed before them, bringing them
first bread, then wine, and when he was finished he bade them rise.
When he had concluded the Easter mass, the archbishop led the
assembled kings and barons in prayer for the success of the
council. His voice was old and wavering, but there was strength
still in it.

In conclusion he said, "And so, oh mighty
God, we pray to thee to give this noble company here assembled the
strength to save the land and people, for they fight in your name,
and are humble and faithful servants to thee."

When the services were done the kings and
lords retired to the courtyard, for everywhere there were tables
laden with food and drink, and King Constantine feasted his noble
guests. All around the courtyard of the castle were strewn garlands
of early spring flowers, and the tables were set with plates of
gold and services of silver.

In the town and the camps below, the retinues
of the kings and the people of the village also celebrated, for
Constantine had declared that all would be feasted from his stores.
Over great pits in the green wild boar were roasted, and game birds
were piled in great multitudes, for the hunters of Caer Guricon had
ranged far and wide over the king's lands to prepare for the
festivities.

Though it was Easter and declared a day of
rejoicing, there was no break in the work for Constantine, for he
was host to six other kings. On the morrow they would convene the
council, and Constantine did not intend for any bad feelings to
arise before it even began. He had seen more than one alliance
shattered by an insult delivered at a feast or careless actions
driven by too much wine.

Indeed, there was ill blood between some of
those assembled, and Constantine and Merlin strove hard to keep the
peace and good feeling. Disputes would be common enough when the
council was in session, but today the king wanted his guests
mirthful and relaxed.

Uther surprised his father, for he was among
the kings all day, drawing from each stories of battles they had
fought and even telling of his many escapes from the monastery,
which brought King Pellinore and King Rience to great laughter when
two had seemed about to argue.

Long was the day, and after the midday meal
was finished there were minstrels and entertainments of every kind
and a grand tournament, where Uther claimed the victory, besting
Leodegrance in the final round.