The Road to Avalon (11 page)

Merlin stared at his daughter. “Are you serious, Igraine? Morgause is your sister.”

Arthur spoke for the first time. “The queen is always practical.”

Igraine gave her son a long, hard look. Arthur’s gray eyes were guileless. Merlin thought, with irritation, that he was enjoying himself.

“Lot was a fool to bring them here,” Igraine said to Arthur, “and we would be fools not to take advantage of his mistake.”

They all looked to Arthur. It was not until later that Merlin thought how strange it was that the three of them should turn to the boy so naturally. Nor did Arthur seem to find it unusual that he should be the one to take charge. “Now that they are here,” he said pleasantly, “it would be a shame to lose Morgause’s company too quickly. Do you think she would like to spend some time at Avalon?”

For the first time Igraine regarded her son with approval. “Very good. We can give it out that Morgause has a desire to visit her old home.”

Uther was frowning. “It is a good idea.” He shifted his weight in his chair as if he were uncomfortable, and Igraine’s eyes sharpened. He gave her a faint reassuring smile before he went on, “We’ll send Morgause and the boys off tomorrow, as soon as the council gets under way. We don’t want to give Lot time to act.”

“Are we to carry them off kicking and screaming?” Merlin asked sourly.

“Of course not, Father. We have more finesse than that. I will think up some story to convince Morgause that it is Lot’s wish that she go. She is easy to satisfy.” Igraine raised a finely groomed black eyebrow. “In fact, I wager she’ll be delighted to go. A few weeks’ respite from the rigors of the north will look very attractive to my dear sister. She spent two hours at the baths this afternoon. In Lothian they must make do with a miserable tin tub before a fire.”

“It is only for a little while, sir,” Arthur said to his grandfather. “Just until Lot and his men are safely back in Lothian. Then Morgause and her sons can go home.”

Merlin sighed. “Oh, very well. But I do not want Morgause or the children frightened.”

“Neither do we,” said Uther. He let a little pause fall before he changed the subject. “Now, about tomorrow . . .”

The chamber of the Civitates was filled the following morning when Merlin entered to take his place on one of the benches by the dais. He had brought Cai and Ector with him even though they could not vote. He thought Arthur would appreciate seeing a few familiar faces in the crowd. The one person Merlin knew his grandson would most like to be present was barred from the all-male assembly. In fact, Morgan would not even be in Venta by the time this meeting was concluded. They had decided last night that she should accompany Morgause and her sons to Avalon.

The chamber of the Civitates was a smaller and poorer version of the Senate building in Rome. The chamber was a single rectangular room, heated in winter by a hypocaust and cooled in summer by a series of small windows placed high along the walls of the long sides of the building. There was a dais on one short wall, with a chair set for the presiding officer. In the days of Rome the officer had been the provincial governor, the
vicarius.
Today it was the high king.

The main door of the building was on the wall facing the dais and it was through this door that Merlin and his companions entered. There was one other small door behind the dais, placed in order to allow the provincial governor to escape without having to encounter the Civitates’ members on his way to the door. At one time a purple wall hanging had concealed the door, but the wall hanging had gone long before the last of the legions pulled out of Britain.

The two long walls of the room were flanked with benches, and on these benches sat the kings and princes and chiefs of the various kingdoms and tribes of Britain. As Merlin took his seat his eyes went along the benches, mentally noting who was present and who was likely to prove friend or foe.

The three Welsh kings were there, Maelgwyn of Gwynedd, Magach of Powys, and Ban of Dyfed. All three of them had brought their sons, the princes of their line. Merlin’s eye was particularly caught by one of Ban’s sons. He was a magnificent-looking boy: big, golden-haired, blue-eyed, a pure Celt. They held very much to the old ways in Dyfed. It was one of the few areas of Britain that was still not Christian.

Further down the bench, past a few tribal chiefs whom Merlin did not recognize, was Gwyl of Elmet. Merlin stared at the King of Elmet’s shrewd, weather-beaten old face. Gwyl had always supported Uther, but of late he had seemed very thick with Lot. Then there was Urien of Rheged, who was new to his throne and a definite question mark; and Edun of Manau Guotodin, who was securely under Lot’s thumb.

On Merlin’s side of the room sat Cador of Dumnonia, who, along with the Welsh, could probably be counted on to support Arthur. Cador was frowning and looking impatiently toward the door. The only missing king, Merlin realized, was Lot.

“Where is—?” Cai was beginning to whisper into his ear, when there was a stir at the door and Lot came striding in.

“A good entrance,” Ector said to Merlin out of the side of his mouth.

They watched as Lot paused, looking around the room to see who was there. When he saw Merlin, he came over to greet him.

“I saw Morgause last night, and my grandsons,” Merlin said in response to the King of Lothian’s opening remark. “But you are not availing yourself of Uther’s hospitality, Lot?”

Lot smiled genially. Like the young Prince of Dyfed, he was obviously a Celt. His big wide-shouldered body was dressed in the brightly checked material they wove in the north. He wore a magnificent gold torque about his neck, and his muscular arms were circled with bronze and gold arm rings. Unlike the clean-shaven, Romanized south, the men of the north wore beards. Lot’s beard was the same dark blond color as his hair. His blue eyes did not reflect the geniality of his smile. “I stayed with my men,” he said. “To make certain they behaved themselves.”

“You appear to have quartered half of Lothian outside Venta.”

Lot flashed a set of excellent teeth. “Not half, Father-in law. I have plenty more men at home. But the roads are dangerous these days. A man can’t be too careful.”

“True,” said Merlin. He did not return Lot’s smile. “A man can’t be too careful.”

A boy dressed in a white tunic with a scarlet dragon embroidered on the shoulder appeared in the main doorway. “My lords,” he announced in a shrill, clear voice, “the High King of Britain, Uther Pendragon.” Lot moved quickly to his seat and the rest of the assembly rose as Uther came into the room and advanced with dignity to the dais. He walked slowly, but his posture was perfectly erect. He looked every inch a Roman, Merlin thought with pride as the king sat and gestured for the rest of them to resume their places.

“I must thank you all, my lords,” Uther said when they were seated and looking at him with unconcealed expectancy, “for coming so promptly to my call. We have weighty matters to discuss at this council, and I appreciate the effort you made to reach Venta by this day.”

The room was perfectly silent. Uther’s voice was weak but clear as he addressed his audience from the dais. “I have been high king for sixteen years,” he said as his eyes circled the room, “and during that time we have managed to keep the Sea Wolves from our doors. But the fight is not yet over. Indeed, it is only begun.” He paused and Merlin could see that he was fighting for breath. They waited.

Uther set his face. Never had Merlin seen the force of his will exerted more clearly. When he spoke again the breathlessness had gone. “We defeated the Saxon offensive under Cerdic in the north this spring, but they are wounded, not beaten. Cynewulf will not be held by the borders of Kent, nor Offa by the boundaries of Sussex. Young Cerdic was only their sounding board. They will be back, again and again and again. And still the tide comes in each spring from Germany, bringing ever more of them to try to push us off our land.”

Merlin could see the blazing blue eyes of the young Prince of Dyfed all the way across the room. He was staring at Uther with rigid intensity. Uther continued: “We must stand fast against them! They are not like the Goths or the Visigoths or the other peoples throughout the empire, who are Christian and thus civilized. These Saxons are indeed the wolves we call them: barbarians, pagans, dark shadows that would put out all the civilized lights in Britain should they ever get control here”

Uther’s eyes commanded the room. “We
must
hold together. That is why the high kingship was established. There must be one man to lead, otherwise we fall into small pieces. And in small pieces the wolves will devour us.”

“You speak true, Uther.” It was Lot’s hearty, ringing voice. A murmur of agreement rose from the benches, but across from him Merlin saw how the Welsh kings were frowning.

Uther waited for silence to fall once more. “As you all know, my family has served Britain for many years. My father, Constantine, was the last Roman-appointed war leader, the
Comes Britanniarum.
My brother Ambrosius was the first man elected high king.” The room was deathly silent. “I am not a well man,” Uther said. “And the time has come to name my heir.” Next to him on the bench, Merlin heard Cai’s indrawn breath. Near the door Lot made a sudden move, as if he would speak, and then did not.

Uther raised his voice. “Sixteen years ago, the queen and I had a son. He was born three months after our marriage, and because we feared there would be doubts about his paternity, we sent him away. When it became clear that the queen would bear no more living children, Prince Merlin undertook the education of this boy. That he is my son, there can be no doubt. You will see this for yourselves as soon as your eyes fall upon him. My lords, this is the heir I propose for Britain. Arthur,” and his voice rang suddenly with strength and vigor, “will you come forth?”

Chapter 10

A
FIGURE
moved from out of the shadows behind the dais. Even Merlin, who had known the plan, had not seen the boy slip in the door, so effectively had Uther commanded the room’s attention.

It was an entrance, Cai was to say later, that beat Lot’s by a Roman league. Suddenly Arthur was there, standing beside his father, erect yet perfectly natural, perfectly comfortable. He looked out at the assembled council of men.

There was a commotion of sound in the hall. Over it all, Lot’s voice sounded, shouting angrily, “What kind of trick is this, Uther?”

“No trick,” Uther replied, but his words were lost in the noise of the chamber. Lot was standing, and a number of other men also began to get to their feet.

“Quiet.”
The word was not shouted, but its biting edge ripped easily through the babble of noise. Silence descended abruptly. Arthur said, “I believe the high king desires to speak,” and turned to his father.

Merlin stared at his grandson. The boy’s black hair was neatly brushed away from his brow and he wore his best tan wool breeches and white tunic. On his shoulder was a brooch that Merlin recognized as belonging to Uther. Every man present must recognize it, he thought. Uther was seldom without it.

“I know I gave it out that he was dead,” Uther was saying to Lot. “What king of sound mind would leave a potential heir vulnerable for his enemies to perhaps use against him?”

“Enemies?” Lot shouted. “What enemies? You have no enemies, Uther. Our enemy is the Sea Wolves, and I say we need a trained war leader to be high king, not an untried boy, whatever his parentage may be.”

“He wears his parentage on his face.” It was Ban of Dyfed speaking, a big man with shaggy blond hair. “You have only to look at the boy, Lot, to see he is the high king’s son.”

Under the thick blond eyebrows, Lot’s blue eyes were hot with anger. “Perhaps he is Uther’s son. But he is a boy. I repeat, we need a trained leader for this fight against the Saxons.”

“Like you?” Ban shot the words across the room in a hard, angry voice.

Lot had not resumed his seat and now he drew himself up to his impressive height. “Yes,” he returned defiantly. “Like me!”

“The King of Lothian makes a valid point.” Every head in the room whipped around to look at the speaker. Arthur had rested a hand lightly on the back of Uther’s chair, but otherwise he stood as before. The sun, slanting in through the high windows, glinted off the brooch on his shoulder. Arthur continued. “The high king is, above all else, the war leader. The survival of us all depends upon his effectiveness in that role.” He removed his fingers from Uther’s chair and stepped away from his father to stand alone. He clasped his hands lightly behind his back and looked slowly around the room, his gaze going from face to face as he spoke, making each man feel as if he were being addressed personally.

“The King of Lothian says I am untrained in war,” Arthur told them. “That is not so. For the past seven years I have been trained, quite relentlessly I assure you, by my grandfather, Prince Merlin. I would match my knowledge of war against any man’s in this country.”

The gray eyes came to rest upon Lot’s face. “Shall I tell you, my lords, what is the most important lesson I have learned during all my years of study?” Arthur’s clear, flexible voice held the room’s absolute attention. “It is what my father has just said to you. Above all else, we must be united. The Christian Bible tells us that a house divided against itself cannot stand, and so it is with Britain.” He stared at Lot. “The ambition of princes must not be allowed to divide us against ourselves,” the black-haired boy said to the king.

Lot flung back his leonine head. “You are not a one to speak of the ambition of princes,” he jeered.

“Perhaps not.” Arthur took a step forward, and the sunlight from the window fell full upon him. “I am ambitious,” he said. “I am ambitious for Britain. I want to see her whole and prosperous once more, not cowering in fear of the Saxon darkness. I want to see our towns thrive as once they did, our fields teem with the harvest. I want ships filled with gold, iron, silver, tin, hides, and wheat once more sailing out of British ports. I am ambitious for peace, my lords, for only in peace can a nation grow and prosper.”