The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) (29 page)

'Keep the challenges going, take the fortress if the opportunity presents itself and make sure you burn his gate again tonight.' Uther mounted his horse and cast an eye to the two warriors who had just clashed for the second time. The Briganti was down, rolling in the snow, his horse which had cantered a little further had stopped running and was now looking back at its fallen rider. The Dumnonii, although still mounted, was slumped in his saddle and looked to be wounded.

Uther shook his head and mumbled, 'At least while the single combat continues there are not hundreds being injured or slain. I wonder if the Duc would deign to match swords with me?'

'I doubt it very much, but perhaps we have someone here who may be able to answer that question,' said Merlyn as he rose from his seat on the log. Uther and the gathered Council all looked on as two warriors pushed a female Dumnonii forward. She was a warrior, as could be seen from the oddments of armour she wore, yet she carried no weapon.

'I was leaving, returning to my village when I was captured by your men, I decided that I have no appetite for this conflict.' The Dumnonii slumped on the log and tried not to be distracted by the fire. She was obviously cold and the flames of the fire danced amongst glowing embers that gave off a comforting heat, but she was being questioned by her King and knew she must give him her full attention, even so, she edged a little closer.

Uther leant forward and smiled, trying to put her at ease. 'You have not been captured; we are not at war with your tribes. I asked my men to bring me some of the warriors that we saw leaving the fortress so that I could ask a few questions, most we are allowing just to leave unmolested. I apologise for delaying you, but you can depart for your village just as soon as you have warmed a little and we have had a chance to talk. I am Uther, what is your name?'

The warrior glanced about at the few people gathered around her, Sir Ector, Merlyn, and a few others, before looking back to Uther.

'My name is Rozen, Sire, and I know who you are. I fought close to you when we met with the Saxons last Samhradh. It was a hot, still day and there was a strong Saxon force, but we had little fear because it was you who led us that day. I was not one hundred paces from where you sat your horse.' She smiled as she remembered. 'I can recall seeing you riding a white horse and us listening to your fine words before the battle, telling us they were no match for the warriors of the tribes. We stole a victory from the Saxons that day, but I also lost a good friend.' Her smile dropped and she drew in a breath, to stare at her feet for a moment before looking back up to Uther. 'I don't understand what's happening here, why we are being asked to oppose you?' She sniffed and shook her head. 'I have a sister with child and my little brother talks of taking up a spear alongside me, but he is only ten summers, he needs me, my family needs me and I don't want to be here.'

'I'm sure you are not alone thinking like this. We have seen quite a few warriors leaving Isca during the night. The Duc's hold upon his warriors must be slipping, do you think many would follow him into battle against us?'

The girl glanced up at Uther and then back down to her feet. 'Many don't comprehend why they might be told to fight you, but the Duc Gerlois is our Lord. He has been a good Chief and brought us prosperity; many will still follow him… but not all of us.'

'I do appreciate your situation,' said Uther, 'I understand the confusion and I don't blame any of you. This whole conflict is beyond the understanding of the best of us. Duc Gerlois has much to answer for. Is he with his family in Isca? We have seen one of his daughters upon the wall with him, but no others.'

'The Duc keeps to himself in his hall doing his trading, and yes I think I have seen his daughter, but they do not come out much, it is too cold… too cold for them, they are not warriors.' She smiled.

'Will you tell me where in Isca their hall is?'

'It is close to the trading square in the centre of the settlement; that's no secret. It's the largest hall; there are two side by side. Can I go now? I just want to return to my village.'

'Yes of course, and thank you, Rozen.' Uther glanced around and beckoned to a waiting warrior. 'Please guide our friend here through our ranks and onto the path to her village.'

The girl smiled her thanks and headed off with the warrior.

'So what did we learn there, Uther?' Merlyn watched the girl departing and took her place on the log.

'We know that they are not happy with their situation, but we also know that we will have to fight. I want you to create one of your potions.' Merlyn raised an eyebrow in question, but Uther continued. 'I remember some years ago, during the winter solstice celebration, that you produced some magical branches that burnt long and fiercely for our entertainment. They spluttered and smoked and almost set the hall on fire, rather impressive.'

Merlyn nodded his head and then smiled, stroking his long beard as he remembered. 'That was several years ago, yes, and I recall that they were quite hard to put out once the flames had got good and started. It is still something I would like to work on a little more, but I imagine we are talking about this because you want me to cover the Duc's gate with a solstice flame, not for me to entertain your warriors. I might be able to come up with something, but I cannot guarantee that we will not burn the whole of Isca to the ground, if we do, I don't think it will make us very popular.' Merlyn frowned and thought for a moment before continuing. 'It is a good idea. Let me see what I can come up with; I have most of the necessary ingredients to make a small amount. It might be rather fun… what colour would you like it to be?' He raised a bushy eyebrow in question and then shook his head as Uther frowned at him. 'I shall set to it immediately, Uther.' He stood up and headed towards the small hut he had constructed with the other Druids, mumbling to himself as he walked away.

Morgana skipped along the walkway gazing out at the vast encampment of warriors surrounding the settlement. She wasn't sure what was happening, but it was all very exciting, much better than being stuck with her mother and sisters in boring old Tintagel. She knew it was best to keep away from her father. He was busy talking of trade with the man with the strange accent and instructing his warriors about protecting the walls and gateway. She had heard him talking with Peder, the man who organised things for father, saying that the King would leave shortly, and trade would continue presently. She hoped they wouldn't leave too soon; it was exciting seeing them out there and she hadn't minded in the least when the slingers had shot stones at them after her father had been talking with the King. She stepped to the side as a group of warriors pushed past, there leader growling at her to get off the wall, but one of the women in the group flashed her a smile which she returned. The warriors were heading towards the gate where much of the activity was taking place, as it was where her father shouted down to the King when he came out to speak, maybe it was going to happen again?

'Get out of the way, girl.' She stood aside as three more warriors pushed past. 'You shouldn't be here, get down somewhere safe before you catch a stone.'

That was silly, the King's men weren't slinging stones at anyone right now. She looked over the edge again to see; there was an awful lot of noise coming from the trees. It sounded like they were chopping them all down… she couldn't see anything unusual happening over there, just the sounds. She reached out and took hold of the palisade wall as a gust of cold wind rocked her. It was getting darker, clouds coming in again, maybe more snow was coming. She decided to go down into the settlement and see what else might be happening; it was boring just staring out at the visiting camp, but it was still more interesting than being at dull and dreary old Tintagel where nothing exciting happened. She climbed down one of the ladders and went off to explore. It might be days before any fighting took place, but she hoped it wouldn't be too long. The smell of cooking drew her through the small passages between the huts and into the trading square where she joined a group waiting for cuts of meat to be distributed by her father. He was smiling and laughing with everyone, making jokes about the King and his warriors encamped around them. She watched him; he had never handed out meat before and she wondered why he was doing it now?

Three men broke from the cover of the treeline and silently loped through the darkness towards the palisade of Isca, their footsteps crunching softly in the snow covered ground. Between them, they carried the burden of a small tree, most of its branches stripped from it with smaller branches lashed to the trunk in the fashion of a simple ladder. As the three reached midway, four others broke from the trees and followed.

Above the town, an orange light was beginning to grow, slowly at first. It began to reflect from the low clouds hanging overhead giving the runners greater reason to cover the exposed open ground more quickly. Shouts of alarm could be heard now, and a bell was ringing frantically, meaning Merlyn and Sir Ector must have done a good job.

Ahead of Uther the warriors reached the wall and heaved the ladder up against it, it bumped softly, which in the silent night air sounded disturbingly loud to Uther who was still thirty paces away. He flinched, and with his steaming breath heavy in his ears from the short run, he glanced upwards to see if Cornovii warriors were guarding this remote part of the palisade. The night sky was bright now, the spiked edge of the wall a black silhouette against it showing no warriors standing, but it was hard to see if there were any hiding, crouched down, watching and waiting to heft spears and bring pain and death in the shadows. They just had to climb the ladder and hope the spirits were looking over them.

The first warrior reached the base of the tree, his spear slung over his shoulder tied with his sling, it swung from side to side as he scampered quickly to the top, the tree flexing and bouncing under his weight. Uther saw him hesitate, peak carefully over the edge, and then raise and dip his head quickly in case it should meet a sweeping blade, but then he was up and over and the other two in front of Uther were on the tree and climbing too.

With Excalibur slung across his shoulder, Uther ran up the bouncing tree, falling forward half way up to use his hands to hold on and help him balance as he continued to climb, moving from one handhold to the next. Within moments, he was clambering between the sharpened tops of the stockade and crouching with his men on the walkway, his breathing loud in his ears and his heart thumping in his chest, hands freezing cold, but they were inside.

Morgana stood up abruptly and left the cell. She could still hear the half-dead King talking on and on in that dreary, feeble way that was close to sending her mad; she just wished he would hurry up and die. He had as good as admitted that he had marched his warriors after her father, for no other reason than he was in pursuit of her mother like a slavering dog chasing a bitch in season, fighting off all and any other drooling dogs to slake his lust. He was calmly describing how they had attacked her father in Isca, laying his crimes bare. Well, now it was enough, she had heard everything she had needed.