Legacy: Arthurian Saga (75 page)

"There is one other thing I said that
night. I told you that I would not acknowledge the child begotten
then. I spoke in anger, but now I speak coldly, after taking
thought and counsel, and I tell you, Merlin, that I'm still of the
same mind."

He seemed to expect an answer, but I
was silent. He went on, half irritably: "Don't misunderstand me, I
don't doubt the Queen. I believe her when she tells me that she
never lay with Gorlois after he brought her to London. The child is
mine, yes, but he cannot be my heir, nor can he be reared in my
house. If the child is a girl, then none of this matters, but if it
is a boy it would be folly to rear him as heir to the High Kingdom,
when men will only have to count on their fingers to say that
Gorlois begot him of his wife Ygraine, half a month before the High
King married her." He looked at me. "You must know this as well as
I do, Merlin. You have lived in kings' houses. There will always be
those who doubt his birth, so there will always be those who would
try to pull him off the throne in favor of men with a 'better
claim,' and God knows there will always be claims in plenty. And
the best claims will be those of my other sons. So, even brought up
as my bastard at my court, the child is dangerous. He may try to
come at the kingship by the deaths of my other children. By the
Light, this is not unknown. I will not have my house a
battleground. I must beget myself another son, an undoubted heir,
conceived in wedlock to the satisfaction of all men, and reared at
my side when the kingdom is settled and the Saxon wars are
over.

Do you accept this?"

"You are the King, Uther, and the
child's father."

It was hardly an answer, but he nodded
as if I had agreed. "There is more. This child is not only
dangerous, he'll be a victim of danger. If men can say that he was
not mine, that he must have been begotten by Gorlois on Ygraine his
wife, then it follows that he is the true son of the Duke of
Cornwall, with a claim on the younger son's portion of the lands
which Cador holds, now that I've confirmed him as Duke in his
father's place. You see? King's son or Duke's, Cador is bound to be
the child's enemy, and there are some who'd follow him quickly
enough."

"Is Cador loyal to you?"

"I trust him," He gave a short laugh.
"So far. He's young, but hard-headed. He wants Cornwall, and he
won't risk anything that could lose it -- yet. But later, who
knows? And when I am gone..." He let it hang. "No, Cador is not my
enemy, but there are others who are."

"Who?"

"God knows, but what king was ever
without them? Even Ambrosius...they're still saying he died of
poison. I know you told me this was not true, but even so I have
Ulfin taste my food. Ever since I took Octa and Eosa prisoner,
they've been the storm center forevery disaffected leader who
thinks he can see his way to a crown like Vortigern's -- backed
with Saxon forces, and paid for with British lives and lands. But
what else can I do? Let them go, to raise the Federates against me?
Or kill them, and give their sons in Germany a grievance to be
wiped out in blood? No, Octa and his cousin are my hostages.
Without them, Colgrim and Badulf would have been here long since,
and the Saxon Shore would have burst its bounds and be lapping at
Ambrosius' Wall. As it is, I'm buying time. You can't tell me
anything, Merlin? Have you heard anything, or seen?"

He was not asking for prophecy; Uther
looked askance and white-eyed at things of the Otherworld, like a
dog that sees the wind. I shook my head.

"Of your enemies? Nothing, except that
when Ralf came to me after leaving your court, he was set upon, and
nearly killed. The men had no badge. They may have thought he was
your messenger, or perhaps the Queen's. Troops from the barracks
hunted the woods, but found no trace of them. More than that, I've
heard nothing. But be sure that if I ever learn anything I will
tell you."

He gave a brief nod, then went on,
slowly, choosing his words. His manner was abrupt, almost
reluctant. For myself, my mind was spinning, and I had to fight to
hold myself calm and steady. We were coming now onto the
battleground, but it must be a very different battle from the one I
had planned for. "You and I," he had said. He would hardly have
sent for me unless I was to have some concern in the child's
future.

He was going over the same ground that
Ygraine and I had covered. "...so you see why, if the child is a
boy, he cannot stay with me, yet if I send him away, he is beyond
my power to protect. But protection he must have. Bastard or no, he
is my child and the Queen's, and if we have no other sons he must
one day be declared my heir to the High Kingdom." He turned up a
hand. "You see where this leaves me. I must consign him to a
guardian who will keep him in safety for the first few years of his
life...at least until this torn kingdom is settled and safe, and in
the hands of strong and loyal allies, and my own declared
heirs."

He waited again for my agreement. I
nodded, then said, carefully neutral: "Have you chosen this
guardian?"

"Yes. Budec."

So the Queen had been right, and the
decision was made. But still he had sent for me. I held myself
still and said, so flatly that it sounded indifferent: "It was the
obvious choice."

He shifted in his chair and cleared
his throat. I saw with some surprise that he was uneasy, nervous
even. He even looked half pleased at my commendation of his choice.
The knowledge steadied me. I realized that I had been so
single-minded -- so wrapped in what I had believed was my and the
child's driving fate -- that I had seen Uther falsely as the enemy.
He was not so concerned: the plain fact was that Uther was a
war-leader harassed perpetually by the strife in and around his
borders, working desperately against time to patch a dam here, a
seawall there, against the piling floodwater; and to him this
affair of the child, though it might prove one day vitally
important, was now little but a rub in the way of major issues,
something he wanted out of the way and delegated. He had spoken
without emotion, and indeed had set the thing out fairly enough. It
was possible that he had sent for me, genuinely, to ask my advice,
as his brother had been used to do. In which case...I wetted dry
lips, and schooled myself to listen quietly, an adviser with a man
beset by trouble.

He was speaking again, something about
a letter. The message which had come yesterday. He pointed to the
stool beside him where the parchment lay, crumpled as if he had
thrown it down in anger. "Did you know about this?"

I picked the letter up and smoothed it
out. It was brief, a message from Brittany, that had been sent to
the King at Tintagel and brought here after him. King Budec had
fallen sick of a fever, it said, during the summer. He had seemed
on the way to recovery, then, towards the end of August, he had
quite suddenly died. The letter finished with protestations of
formal friendship from the new king, Hoel, Uther's "devoted cousin
and ally..."

I looked up. Uther had sat back in his
chair, shifting a fold of the scarlet mantle over his arm.
Everything seemed quite still. Outside, the wind had dropped. The
sounds of the camp came from far away, faintly. Uther's chin was
sunk on his chest, and he was watching me with a mixture of worry
and impatience.

I was noncommittal. "This is heavy
news. Budec was a good man and a good friend."

"Heavy enough, even if it had not
destroyed my plans. I was preparing to send messages even when this
letter came. Now I can't see my way clear. Have they told you that
I go to a council of kings at Viroconium?"

"Audagus told me." Audagus was the
officer who had escorted us from the ferry.

He threw out a hand. "Then you see how
much I want to turn aside to deal with this. But it must be dealt
with now. This is why I sent for you."

I flicked the seal with a forefinger.
"You won't send the child to Hoel, then? He swears himself your
devoted cousin and ally."

"He may be my devoted cousin and ally,
but he's also a -- " Uther used a phrase that became a soldier
rather than a king in council. "I never liked him, nor he me. Oh,
Mithras knows he would never mean harm to a son of mine, but he's
not the man his father was, and he might not be able to protect the
boy from his ill-wishers. No, I'll not send him to Hoel. But what
other court can I send him to? Reckon it for yourself." He told
over a few names, all powerful men, all of them kings whose lands
lay in the southern part of the country, behind the Wall of
Ambrosius. "Well? Do you see my problem? If he goes to one of the
nobles or petty kings here in safe country he could still be in
danger from an ambitious man; or worse, become a tool of treachery
and rebellion."

"So?"

"So I come to you. You are the only
man who can steer me between these clashing rocks. On the one hand,
the child must be sworn and acknowledged my own, in case there is
no other heir. On the other, he must be taken away out of danger
for himself and the kingdom, and brought up in ignorance of his
birth until the time comes when I send for him." He turned over a
hand on his knee and asked me as simply as he had asked me once
before; "Can you help me?"

I answered him as simply. The
bewilderment, the confused whirl of thought, settled suddenly into
a pattern, like colored leaves blown down into a tapestry on the
grass when the spinning wind drops still. "Of course. You need
wreck no part of your kingdom on either of these rocks. Listen, and
I will tell you how. You told me you had 'taken counsel.' Other
men, then, know of your plans to send the boy to Budec?"

"Yes."

"Have you spoken to anyone of this
letter, and your doubts of Hoel?"

"No."

"Good. You will give it out that your
plan stays as formerly, and that the boy will go to Hoel's court at
Kerrec. You will write to Hoel requesting this. Have someone make
all arrangements to send the boy with his nurse and attendants as
soon as the weather allows. See that it is given out that I will
accompany him there myself."

He was frowning, intent, and I could
see protest in his face, but he made none. He said merely:
"And?"

"Next," I said, "I must be at Tintagel
for the birth. Who is her physician?"

"Gandar." He seemed about to say
something more, then changed his mind and waited.

"Good. I'm not suggesting I should
attend her." I smiled. "In view of what I shall suggest, that might
lead to some rather dangerous rumors. Now, will you be there
yourself for the lying in?"

"I shall try, but it's
doubtful."

"Then I shall be there to attest the
child's birth, as well as Gandar and the Queen's women, and whoever
you can appoint. If it is a boy, the news will be sent to you by
beacon, and you will declare him your son by the Queen, and, in
default of a son begotten in wedlock, your heir until another
prince shall be born."

He took some time over that, frowning,
and obviously reluctant to commit himself. But it was only the
conclusion of what he had himself said to me. Finally he nodded and
spoke a little heavily: "Very well. It is true. Bastard or not, he
is my heir until I get another. Go on."

"Meantime the Queen will keep her
chamber, and once he has been seen and sworn to, the child will be
taken back to the Queen's apartments and kept there, seen only by
Gandar and the women. Gandar can arrange this. I myself will leave
openly, by the main gate and the bridge. Then after dark I shall go
down secretly to the postern gate on the cliff, to receive the
child."

"And take him where?"

"To Brittany. No, wait. Not to Hoel,
nor by the ship which everyone will be watching. Leave that part of
it to me. I shall take him to someone I know in Brittany, on the
edge of Hoel's kingdom. He will be safe, and well cared for. You
have my word for it, Uther."

He brushed that aside as if there had
been no need for me to say it. He was already looking lighter, glad
to be relieved of a care that must, among the weighty cares of the
kingdom, seem trivial, and -- with the child still only a weight in
a woman's womb -- unreal. "I'll have to know where you take
him."

"To my own nurse, who reared me and
the other royal children, bastard and true alike, in the nurseries
at Maridunum. Her name is Moravik, and she's a Breton. After the
sack by Vortigern she went home to her people. She has married
since. While the child is sucking, I can think of no better place.
He won't be looked for in such a humble home. He will be guarded,
but better than that, he will be hidden and unknown."

"And Hoel?"

"He will know. He must. Leave Hoel to
me."

Outside a trumpet sounded. The sun was
growing stronger, and the tent was warm. He stirred, and flexed his
shoulders, as a man does when he lays off his armor. "And when men
find that the child is not on the royal ship, but has vanished?
What do we tell them?"

"That for fear of the Saxons in the
Narrow Sea the prince was sent, not by the royal ship, but privily,
with Merlin, to Brittany."

"And when it is found he is not at
Hoel's court?"

"Gandar and Marcia will swear to it
that I took the child safely. What will be said I can't tell you,
but there's no one who will doubt me, or that the child is safe as
long as he's under my protection. And what my protection means you
know. I imagine that men will talk of enchantments and vanishings,
and wait for the child to reappear when my spells are
lifted."