The Shadow of a King

Chapter 2 Alone Amongst Friends-1

Chapter 2

Alone Amongst FriendsUther sat hunched over a bowl of steaming broth, slowly spooning the rich mixture into his mouth, a look of tired contentment upon his face. He was listening with studied interest to Arthur as his son spoke of the months he had been away, of all the raids and skirmishes, and of the preparations they were making before meeting the main Saxon force in the coming days. Uther appeared not to notice, or was perhaps merely unconcerned as much of the broth spilt and soaked through his beard and onto the rough wood of the table in front of him. Around the pavilion, several others, including Merlyn, were content just to observe and witness their King's improving condition.

'The Saxons have been pushing us father. Our forces number less than half that they were a year ago, and yet the Saxon forces continue to grow. Angles are now crossing the water to join them, and the Saxons, under Octa, begin to scorn us as they have never done before.'

Arthur was a serious and earnest young man of just fourteen summers and big for his age. Training with weapons since he was a child had given him broad shoulders and a well-muscled physique. He had the strong jaw and serious nature of his father, but also the soft eyes and understanding nature of his mother, he would make a good King. As he spoke, he frequently glanced across to Merlyn or Sir Ector to confirm his words.

'Octa?' Uther lowered the wooden spoon and glanced from Arthur to the old Druid.

'Octa leads the Saxons here and is the son of a man you once knew upon the battlefield, a certain Hengist.' Merlyn motioned for Arthur to continue his explanation, which the boy seemed eager to do.

'Sir Ector has told me of the day you killed Hengist's brother, Horsa; maybe it will be me that kills Octa?' Uther looked at his son, shrugged and returned to his broth. He and Arthur weren't close, a situation that nobody could comprehend and everyone, including his son, blamed entirely upon Uther. From the moment of his birth, Arthur had lived within the household of Sir Ector, primarily to learn his martial skills, but within Sir Ector's household, he had also been under the direct control and tutelage of Merlyn in preparation for the demanding burden of becoming High King of all the tribes, the Pendragon.

Among the Britons, the placing of a son within another household at an early age was common practice. It was thought it would help to unite the tribes, however, to send a child away at birth was totally unheard of. Little reason had been given for this arrangement, yet Uther had apparently handed the squalling infant into Merlyn's care the very same day Arthur drew his first breath. Because of this distance, Uther had missed much in his son's development, and he was now enjoying the young man's company as he explained a few of the changes in relations with the Saxons that had taken place since Uther had fallen ill, a little more than a year before.

Arthur continued. 'Octa and his forces await us at Valerum, just two days march from where we gather the tribes here. Soon we will march and, God willing, we will finally push them back to the eastern coast.'

'God willing, my son, God willing indeed.' Joseph, the chubby priest who was Arthur's adviser, and very much his shadow, leant forward and patted the boy's shoulder beaming around at everyone. Uther glared at him, and the priest sat back, the smile dropping from his face. Arthur didn't notice the exchange; he was too flushed and excited. 'More men join us daily and now that you have returned to lead us, even more shall come. I am even more assured that we shall treat the Saxons to a stinging defeat.' Arthur smiled around at the assembled warriors, chiefs and elders seeking confirmation of his words. Uther could see that the men were all fond of his son, Sir Ector clapped the boy on the shoulder and calls of agreement came from several others including the simpering priest.

'Our King must rest,' announced Merlyn, using his staff to pull himself up onto his feet.

But Uther shook his head. 'I think I have rested long enough; it is time for me to talk to our men and women.' He stood and then reached out for support as he swayed on his feet.

'There will be time for that tomorrow, Sire,' said Merlyn, looking from Uther to the men, who were all showing signs of concern for their so recently returned King. 'Please, I would ask you all to leave us. I will talk with our King and then he will, indeed, rest.' Before Uther could say anything, Sir Ector took hold of Arthur's arm and led him from the pavilion talking quietly to him, with the priest skipping quickly behind them trying to keep up. The others followed mutely, several offering tidings and reassurances to Uther as they left.

When they had all gone, Merlyn turned once more to Uther. 'Sit down, Uther. You are newly awoken from what I can only imagine has been a long and weary sleep and of course, you are eager to catch up. However, your body is still weak. Let me explain a few things to you… sit, sit.' He gestured to the bench and Uther sank down, pushing the remains of his meal aside and leaned heavily on the table.

'Uther, you have been deathly sick, this I do not need to explain to you. You took a bad wound just after Beltane of last year. You were hunting for boar as I recall.' Merlyn shook his head at the absurdity of the incident. 'As you convalesced, the fevers took you and death almost claimed you, however, because of the agreement that was reached with the spirits when you fought and killed Horsa, we have a little…' - he waved his hands absently in the air and his eyes flared a little as he sought the correct words - '… we had a little opportunity to bend the rules.'

'Bend the rules… bend which rules?'

'Bend the rules of life and death, my friend.' The old Druid waved his hands for Uther to sit still and listen.

'Your son is very nearly ready to take the crown and an extremely fine leader he will become, of this I have no doubt. But this Octa has become somewhat of a problem and Arthur is not yet ready for him. Sir Ector and the others have done their best, but…' - he raised his hands gave a small look of despair - 'we have been losing too many men Uther. We are being pushed back towards the western coast. The Saxons and now the Angles take our lands and our people and make them their own, the tribes of Britain are a dying people.'

'What rules have been bent, Merlyn, what have you done to me?'

'Done to you? Uther, you walk, talk and breathe, whatever it is that I have… done to you, you might be a little grateful, hmm, don't you think?'

Uther slowly shook his head. 'I am never sure when I should be grateful to you, old man. You have played with me all of my life, and I'm sure that any agreements reached with the spirits were not done with my interests at heart, and they were certainly done without any approval from me. Do I not have any say in matters?' Uther rubbed at his eyes and cast a glance at the sleeping pallet. 'I am, after all, the King.' Then a thought struck him, and he turned back to the Druid.

'If I am so badly needed at this time, should I not reclaim Excalibur? If I carry that blade, then surely I would stand an even greater chance of leading our men in victory.' He watched Merlyn intently, his hopes of seeing the blade once more rising as he thought the Druid was in truth contemplating its return. However, Merlyn's face broke into a grin, and he shook a finger at Uther.

'You have carried the sword Excalibur, now it waits for another to wield it, perhaps it shall be your son, Arthur, perhaps another, we have yet to see. But you, Uther, you will never carry that blade again. I shall leave you to rest in a moment but understand this; I sent for you only because your people need to see you riding at the front of our ranks, at the head of our warriors as they go out to fight. If you lead your men in this last battle, I have foreseen that the Saxons will be beaten so badly, that it may take years for them to recover. Arthur needs that time, Uther.' Merlyn stood. 'Your people need that time. We need you to be our King in one final, glorious battle. Welcome back old friend, it is truly good to see you.'

Uther arose slowly, with no little difficulty, as the first light of dawn announced itself by gradually revealing details of the draped cloth that hung over his sleeping cot. Although stiff and still drained of energy, he was, nevertheless, glad that the night was finally behind him. Exhausting, fitful visions had plagued his dreams, wolves, Picts, Merlyn wielding his staff… Arthur and, of course, Excalibur, while all the time he had felt the need to run, to get away, but then, as he turned to flee, he always fell, tripping and falling through the trees of the forest, bleeding, crying and feeling helplessly lost as in desperation he sought for escape.

It took a little time to rise and force his body upright and sitting, and then finally to stand up on unsteady feet. Pushing through the untied flaps of his pavilion, he was met by a brightening day that was, thankfully, free of rain. There was a stiff breeze blowing in from the east, and thick clouds were passing at speed above them, appearing like so many small boats chasing across a river as Uther stared up at them content for a moment to be awake and alive. It felt cool and clean, and there was a palpable air of relief that the rain had finally ceased. As he looked out over the thousands of men, women, children and animals that made up the gathered masses below him, he could feel it; a growing optimism. It showed in the smiles on people's faces that he could see moving further down the hill and despite his bad night of sleep, Uther felt so alive, more so than he had in a long, long time.

'Good morning, Your Grace.'

Uther glanced around and saw a young Iceni warrior standing to the side of the pavilion's entrance, tussled blonde hair and a large hawkish nose that didn't make her unattractive; she was grinning in obvious delight at being in the presence of her King.

Uther smiled, 'Oh, good morning…?'

'Maude, Your Grace. My father was with you at Mount Badon.' She drew herself to order, holding her spear more upright, obviously proud to be guarding her King.

'Maude… good morning Maude. Would you be so good as to aid your King? I am still a little weak from my illness and your support would be most welcome.'

'Of course, Lord.' Maude moved to Uther's side and held out her arm tattooed in swirling blue for him to take, which he did, shuffling forward on unsteady feet.

'The rain has stopped, Sire. I don't know if that was your doing, but it's the first time it's stopped in…. well, it feels like weeks!'

'I assure you, Maude, that stopping the rain most certainly wasn't my doing. It might be something Merlyn could accomplish, I wouldn't put that past him, but I am merely a very frail and mortal King.' He smiled as Maude frowned, and then said, 'I would need to be in far better health to stop the rain and stronger still to make the sun come out.' He laughed as Maude glanced at him with an astonished look on her face.

'Uther, you're awake!' Coming up the hill towards them with his robes hitched up as he walked carefully over the long, wet grass, was Merlyn, beaming happily through his scraggy white beard. 'And I see you are already bringing joy and…' - he glanced up at the scudding clouds - '… and possibly a little sunshine, or is that too much to hope for?'

Uther smiled. 'I've just been explaining to my new friend Maude, that I am not capable of much at all at the moment. I believe that if we are once again about to fight a decisive battle, as you have indicated, Merlyn, then I would like some information so we might turn things to our advantage. Perhaps we can meet Octa a little more prepared than he expects us to be.