The Dragon's Banner (30 page)

Before the defending troops there was an
embassy, and they rode toward Uther's army under flag of truce.
They were led by Hurrin, one of the highest-ranked lords of
Cornwall, and one of Gorlois' few real friends, and they were taken
to a hastily pitched tent wherein the high king of Britannia sat
upon a camp stool awaiting them. Tall and clad in spotless armor
and livery, Hurrin knelt before Uther, waiting for permission to
speak. The king, by contrast, wore armor soiled from the field and
an old and faded tunic bearing the Pendragon heraldry. Uther was a
warrior, and he had little use for the finery of court. He looked
at the visiting lord, his face impassive. "You may speak, Hurrin. I
will hear your embassy."

The visitor hesitated for a moment. Uther's
tone was icy, and though he had not raised his voice, Hurrin was
intimidated nonetheless. "King Uther, I am here to assure you most
profoundly that King Gorlois is, as ever, loyal to your majesty. I
have been sent to plead this case and to reaffirm the loyalty of
the king and all Cornwall to your high kingship."

Uther waited for Hurrin to complete his
speech. He sat upon his stool unmoving, a graven image of solid,
unyielding granite. His voice, when he spoke, projected utter
finality. "You speak lies, Hurrin, or you are a fool. For your
lord" - Uther deliberately avoided calling Gorlois a king - "was
commanded to present himself at Caer Guricon. Instead of obeying,
he sent ambassadors with more lies. And now, an army of Cornwall
lies before me. What purpose has this? Think you 'tis loyalty to
bar the march of your high king with armed warriors?" Uther was
becoming angry, his voice rising like a gathering storm. "Your lord
may be convicted from his own deeds, for it was treason to disobey
my command to appear, apart from his former actions that prompted
by edict. And now, yet again, he proves himself a traitor for
sending his army against his lawful liege." His voice had reached a
crescendo, and all in the tent cringed at the unleashed fury of
Uther Pendragon.

Uther rose, the stool tumbling behind him as
he walked toward Hurrin. "Go now, and tell your lord that he has
condemned himself. I shall hang him as the traitor he is even if I
must dig him cowering from the ruins of Tintagel. Go to your army
and see what men you can rally to attack the high king of
Britannia, for no quarter shall be given to those who do." Uther
was a force of nature, and it took all of Hurrin's resolve simply
to stand before the king and endure the withering barrage. "Now,
begone, before I strike you down as a traitor yourself. You have
one hour to clear your rabble from the road. If you do not, I
shall."

Hurrin bowed low and hurriedly retreated from
the tent. His orders were to stand and fight if he could not
negotiate a truce, but his courage was beginning to fail. Uther's
rage had unnerved him, for Hurrin had fought in the war against
Vortigern, and he had seen firsthand how Uther dealt with those he
perceived as treacherous. Gorlois was his lawful sovereign, yet
Uther Pendragon was high king to whom he also owed allegiance. He
could not obey one without betraying the other. In despair he
thought to himself, what can I do?

Hurrin walked into his tent, waving off all
who tried to follow him. He had ridden back from Uther's camp,
saying nothing to his entourage. He rode back at such a pace they
could barely keep up with him, and now he had stormed into his
tent, closing the flap behind him.

"I would speak with you, Hurrin." The voice
was familiar and mysteriously compelling. The figure in the corner
of the tent was unmoving, clad in a gray, hooded cloak.

"Who is there? Merlin? Is that you?"

The figure remained motionless, his face
hidden by the drawn hood. "I am a friend. An advisor. That is all
you need know. Remember that and ask no more. I have counsel to
offer."

He is here without Uther's knowledge, thought
Hurrin. Perhaps Merlin would offer him a solution to his dilemma.
"I would hear your counsel if you would offer it." He motioned for
the visitor to take a seat, but the robed figure remained
unmoving.

"You are at a crossroads, Hurrin. Do you side
with Gorlois or with Uther? And, having made your choice, will the
other lords and men adhere to your decision?" The gray visitor
paused to allow Hurrin to consider the situation. "You have taken
the field with Uther Pendragon before. Do you believe you can best
him in battle? If you stand for Gorlois on this field you will die.
Your men will die, for Uther will show no mercy to those who defy
his will. You know this to be true."

Hurrin stood silently, listening to Merlin's
words, and he began to hope. Perhaps there is an escape from this
pending doom.

"Gorlois is lost. No man can now save him
from his fate. I would not see you and your men slaughtered, nor
Uther lose brave warriors in pointless battle. And I would spare
Cornwall from the wrath of the high king should he believe the
whole kingdom to be disloyal. Yet neither would I counsel you to
join Uther and march on Tintagel, for such would be dishonorable,
and would breed dissension in your ranks."

Merlin paused once again, as he could see
that Hurrin was paying heed to his words, and he wanted to give him
time to consider. "If you would take my counsel, go you now, before
Uther's deadline has passed, and declare to your lords and men that
you cannot honorably war against either the king of Cornwall or the
high king of Britannia. State that you will return to your own keep
and you give leave to all to do what their hearts dictate. Those
who would fight for Gorlois will be allowed to march to Tintagel
Castle. Any who would join King Uther are free to do so. Those who
feel as you do may depart and return to their homes with
honor."

Hurrin stood silently for a moment,
considering his options. "But, Mer.., sir, would not Uther be
wrathful were I to leave the field and not support his cause?"

"Nay. You likely will not be in great favor,
but you will not be punished, for the high king will recognize your
act as an honorable one. Indeed, he will suspect the motives of
those who would so easily abandon their king to join his
standard."

Hurrin considered his options for another
moment, but he knew he had no choice. "I thank you for your
counsel. I shall do as you propose."

The gray-clad figure bowed slightly, and
without a sound slipped out of the tent and was gone.

The army of Cornwall had broken up. The lines
of battle disintegrated as men streamed back to camp. Tents were
struck and possessions gathered, and men departed in various
directions. Several hundred crossed the field, offering their
services to Uther's army. Some were veterans of the old war who had
fought closely alongside the high king, though others were simply
opportunistic, choosing the side they thought would win. Another
group formed up to march to Tintagel Castle to join the king of
Cornwall. Mostly lords and retainers with especially close ties to
Gorlois, they numbered perhaps five hundred in all.

The largest number, indeed two in three of
those present, chose the same path as Hurrin, and they departed the
field in every direction, bound for their keeps and homes and
farms. Torn between loyalties and obligations, they would remain
uncommitted.

The force bound for Tintagel marched briskly,
intent on reaching the relative safety of the keep as quickly as
possible. But the trail wound for many miles through a deep forest,
and they were strung out and slowed by the narrowness of the path.
Hidden from view in the dense undergrowth, a gray-robed man
crouched down, speaking softly with a richly attired warrior. "Are
your men ready, Caradoc?"

Caradoc, the son of a great Visigothic lord
and, by Uther's hand, a king these past ten years, turned to face
his companion. "They are ready, Merlin. But I am ill at ease
undertaking this action without King Uther's leave. Are you sure
this is wise?"

Merlin put his hand on Caradoc's shoulder.
"You are a true friend to Uther, this I know. I trust you have no
doubts about my own loyalty to the house of Pendragon."

Caradoc answered abruptly, afraid he had
inadvertently insulted his companion. "No doubts, Merlin. Indeed,
none could question your devotion. But to draw first blood in this
affair without the high king's consent?"

I have to tell him more, thought Merlin.
"Caradoc, we share a love of Uther, yet be both know he is not a
cautious man. He marches on Gorlois ill-prepared, with only those
levies he could gather quickly. I have, with words, dispersed the
greater part of the army of Cornwall, yet still these hundreds
remain pledged to Gorlois. Tintagel is one of the greatest
fortresses in Britannia. We cannot allow it to become more strongly
held than already it is. Uther would dash his army to pieces
against its great bastions. We must make certain these warriors
never reach their destination."

Caradoc exhaled loudly. He was still worried,
but he could not escape the conclusion that Merlin was right. Uther
Pendragon had taken him into his inner circle, rewarded him with
trust and friendship, and finally given him a crown. He would do
whatever he must to protect the high king. He would face Uther's
legendary anger if needs be, but he would not allow his friend to
face peril that he could reduce. "Very well, Merlin. I am with
you."

It started in the rear of the marching force,
warriors charging through the woods, smashing into the shocked men
of Cornwall. The surprise was total, and many of the defenders were
slain before they could mount a strong resistance. In other areas
along the line they began to flee, but Caradoc had men waiting on
the other side of the trail, and all who ran that way were
slain.

On the path itself, some of the men of
Cornwall managed to put up a stronger defense, and Caradoc's troops
began to suffer losses as well. Near the front of the column a
group of defenders had rallied around one giant warrior, and all
about them lay the bodies of the attackers. It was Caradoc himself,
and five other warriors, the last remaining of the ten who had
accompanied him to Britannia, who charged in and overwhelmed the
holdouts. When it was over, two of the brave Visigoths had fallen,
and Caradoc himself had struck down the massive Cornish
warrior.

Finally, the last of the defenders had been
slain, and a grim quiet settled along the path. Caradoc's men
gathered their wounded and counted their dead. They had lost fifty
killed and ninety hurt from their total of six hundred. Around
them, on the path and in the surrounding woods, lay five hundred of
their enemies slain or dying. Merlin walked up to Caradoc, who was
bleeding from a wound to the shoulder, the last blow of the giant
of Cornwall. "Let me tend to that, lest it fester."

Caradoc seemed unconcerned about the injury,
but he allowed Merlin to bind it. He winced when the old man
sprinkled some yellow powder in the gash. "By god, Merlin, what is
that? Powdered fire?"

Merlin smiled as he wrapped the shoulder in
clean linen. "It will cleanse the wound and speed the healing. By
the time battle is joined at Tintagel you will ready again for the
fight."

Caradoc looked down at the ground silently
for a few moments, then back at Merlin. "We shall soon meet with
Uther, for he cannot be but a few miles east of here. Whether he
shall embrace me or hang me I know not. But I would not have done
other than I have."

Tintagel Castle rose above the sea, a dark
monolith against the setting sun. Built by the Romans centuries
earlier, it had been expanded and strengthened by Gorlois' line,
the dukes of Cornwall. On three sides the sea crashed against the
rocks below the great battlements, and on the land side were two
great towers and a massive oaken gate.

Before that gate was arrayed the army of
Uther Pendragon. Five times they had assailed the walls, and five
times they had been thwarted by the nearly impregnable
fortifications. Now the sounds of axes and tools could be heard all
day as they felled trees and built siege engines of every manner.
Four large ballistae they had already constructed, and even now
these hurled great stones against the walls day and night.

They had suffered painful losses in the
failed attacks, but reinforcements had arrived from Powys and
Cameliard, and with these added to Caradoc's men, their numbers had
swelled to 3,500. The defenders had also lost men, and fewer than
800 remained to man the walls.

Standing next to the largest of the
ballistae, as the crew levered a large boulder into place,
Leodegrance directed the siege operations. He was troubled over the
entire affair and, indeed, he had thrice argued with Uther,
beseeching his friend to pull back and seek a negotiated
resolution. The last time the exchange had ended badly, with the
first cross words the two had ever exchanged.

But Leodegrance's loyalty was absolute, and
though he disapproved, he would help Uther with all his strength.
Indeed, his close direction of the ballistae had been fruitful, and
they were near to collapsing a section of the wall. They would
continue to fire all night, and while the crews would be replaced,
Leodegrance would remain. He had been two nights without sleep;
this would be the third. But he was confident they could complete
the breach by sunrise, and he would not be distracted. If he could
not dissuade Uther from this course of action, he would see it done
as quickly as possible.

The night was without a moon, and in the inky
blackness, men in five boats rowed from the far side of the
fortress. They had quietly filed out of a sally port on the seaward
wall, carrying their small craft down to the water's edge. Uther
had resolved to cut off Tintagel by sea, but King Pellinore's ships
had not arrived, and the sallying force reached the shore
undetected. One hundred strong, picked men all, they stealthily
made their way toward the siege engines. One man in five carried a
cask of oil, for it was their intent to burn the ballistae that had
been so effective under Leodegrance's direction. They crept to
within ten yards of the nearest ballista, and on a pre-planned
signal, they threw their javelins at the crew.