Arthur, King

Part I

The Two Dragons

Chapter 1

Uther’s horse raced along the road to Din Eidyn. The snow had stopped falling hours earlier, and the full moon peered through the clouds, bathing the white landscape in blueish light. The wind and the crunching of the snow beneath his horse’s hooves were the only sounds he heard, apart from his own gasps as he inhaled the icy air. Steam billowed from the horse’s nostrils as it labored to carry its rider to the hillfort that served as Uther’s main fortress.

Tonight of all nights! It wasn’t supposed to happen for at least another week.

Uther glanced back at his standard-bearer and his escorts, who were desperately trying to keep up with their king. His standard, the gold boar on a field of dark blue, snapped straight back as the horses raced for home.

She said it wouldn’t happen until after the new year. It’s Christmas Eve! I promised her that I’d be back in time.

Uther leaned forward, and his horse understood. The horse shook its head slightly, acknowledging the silent order, and increased speed. It seemed to know that its rider had somewhere to be that night.

It was December 24th in the year 464 AD. King Uther, the lord of Gododdin in the northeast corner of Britain, had been meeting for several days with the High King, Vortigern, and the other northern kings to discuss plans for strengthening Britain’s defenses against the Picts and Caledonians. The meetings had ended several days earlier, and Uther had anticipated being home by mid-day on Christmas. He was half-way back to Gododdin when the messenger from his wife, Queen Ygerna, intercepted him.

The message was simple and urgent. It’s time.

Uther’s heart began racing. His closest friend and advisor, Merlinus Emrys, or Merlin as he preferred to be called, immediately drew his horse up next to his king.

What is it, my Lord? Merlin asked.

Uther relayed the message. I’m riding for Din Eidyn, immediately, Merlin. You and the others follow as quickly as you can.

Of course, Uther, Merlin promised.

Uther pressed his heels into the sides of his horse, and it took off at a gallop. His escorts followed close behind.

Uther glanced back at his standard-bearer and his escorts again. Six escorts had followed him when he left the rest of the men who had accompanied him to King Vortigern’s Council meetings, but Uther noticed that only three had managed to keep up with him.

I can’t be late. Not for this.

Uther reached the crest of a great ridge and saw Din Eidyn across the valley. Torches all along the wall illuminated the hillfort overlooking the village, but its beacon remained dark.

I’m not too late. There’s still time.

His chest pounded as he rode through the deserted streets to the causeway that led up to the hillfort’s gates. The guards immediately recognized their king’s standard and flung open the gates for him. Uther rode through without saying a word.

When he reached the hillfort’s great house, he dismounted and tossed the reins to a groom. He ran up the steps two at a time, pushed open the great oak door, and entered the house that he shared with the love of his life.

Ygerna! I’m here, my darling!

He deposited his riding cloak and sword belt into the arms of the servant who ran to the door to greet him.

Uther headed for the great hall. Any word yet?

No, my Lord, the servant replied, following Uther as fast as he could while trying not to drop the cloak or the sword.

Uther hurried across the great hall; the thumping of his boots against the flagstone tiles echoed loudly. The corridor beyond led to the private apartments that he shared with his queen. As he reached the door to the apartment, it opened. Silhouetted against the candlelight was Lucilia, one of Ygerna’s midwives.

My Lord, she intoned softly. You’re just in time.

He followed her into the apartment. Lit candles were everywhere, giving off a golden glow. When he reached the bedchamber, Ygerna was there, surrounded by midwives and other servants who were required by law to witness the birth of a future King of Gododdin. She looked like she was in pain.

I’m here, my love, he said as he approached the bed.

Ygerna nodded. Then she grimaced and let out a yell that sounded like she was being stabbed by an unseen enemy.

It’s coming now, Lucilia said, pushing past Uther.

Uther stepped out of the way. He had never seen a woman giving birth before; Ygerna had never carried a child for this long. She had suffered four miscarriages while he was away fighting the Picts, Irish, Saxons, and Anglians who constantly invaded Britain. When she found herself pregnant again, he promised that he’d be with her when it was time for the baby to be born.

I kept my promise. I made it back in time.

The midwives and servants blocked his view. Uther wanted to be next to his wife, holding her, but he knew that he needed to let the midwives do their work.

Ygerna let out another yell, followed by a deep groaning.

Oh, my darling. You’ve come so far. Just a little farther, and the baby that we’ve wanted for so long will finally be here.

Ygerna groaned again, sending the midwives scurrying. Agonizing moments passed. Ygerna’s breathing became deeper between spasms of pain. She groaned and yelled loudly as if in unimaginable agony. Then there was silence.

Ygerna…? Uther asked.

He heard a crying, but it wasn’t his wife. The midwives stepped away from the bed. Lucilia beamed as she gestured for Uther to come forward.

Uther stood next to the bed. Lying beside Ygerna, wrapped in a blanket that she had been waiting years to use, was a pink-cheeked baby, resting with its eyes shut.

We have a son, Uther. Ygerna sounded exhausted. We finally have a son!

Uther sat next to his wife and kissed her forehead. He looked at his son with an expression of wonder. I have a son, he whispered. We have a son.

What shall we name him? Ygerna asked, looking at him with those Welsh blue eyes of hers.

You know that I’ve always been fond of bears. Uther smiled and stroked her hair. What about Arto? It’s a good name.

Ygerna shook her head. How about Arthur?

The Welsh version of the word? Uther chuckled softly. You always did prefer anything Welsh.

Everything except for you, my love, Ygerna replied softly.

Uther nodded. Arthur it is.

Uther heard a commotion in the great hall.

It sounds like the others have finally arrived. I’ll go tell them the good news, and then I’ll come right back.

Uther strode out of the bedchamber, followed by the servants who weren’t needed as witnesses anymore. When he reached the great hall, Merlin and the others who had traveled with him to meet with Vortigern were standing near the fire, waiting to hear whether the King of Gododdin finally had an heir.

What’s the news? Merlin asked when he saw Uther.

Uther hugged his friend. Ah, Merlin, I have a son!

Merlin and the others cheered their king.

What did you name him? Merlin asked.

Arthur, Uther replied proudly. My son and his mother are doing just fine. And now I must return to them, and each of you have loved ones waiting for you. Go now, and have a blessed Christmas.

Congratulations, my Lord, Merlin said, gesturing for the others to follow him out of the great hall. We wish you, Ygerna, and Prince Arthur a blessed Christmas as well.

Merlin and the others retrieved their horses and rode for the gates of the hillfort. As they reached the causeway leading to Din Eidyn, one of Uther’s servants lit the beacon on the wall overlooking the village.

The light shone brightly on the causeway as it reflected off the snow-covered ground. By the time Merlin reached his own estate, the other beacons in the area were lit, heralding to all of Gododdin that their future king, Prince Arthur, had come.

Heavy snows blanketed Din Eidyn for the next week, making the roads impassable. But the weather turned calm and the roads cleared by the end of the first week of January. Uther’s friends and allies, who had planned to travel to Din Eidyn in early January for the birth of Uther’s child, now arrived in time for Arthur’s christening.

In addition to Gododdin, four neighboring kingdoms were responsible for defending Britain’s northern borders, and their kings were chief among the allies who made the journey. Ceretic, the King of Strathclyde, ruled the lands west of Gododdin and bore the brunt of the Irish invasions. Nudd-Lludd, the King of Bryneich, ruled the lands south of Gododdin. Mor, the King of Ebrauc, ruled the lands south of Bryneich and had lost much of his kingdom, including his capital city, to Colgrin’s Anglian invaders. Gwrast Ledlwm, the King of Rheged, ruled the lands south of Strathclyde.

The hillfort at Din Eidyn was the largest in the northern kingdoms, and it was also one of the largest in all of Britain. The kings were housed in the guest wing of Uther’s great house, while the retainers and servants who traveled with their kings were lodged either in the guest quarters along the eastern wall or in the barracks that lined the southern and western walls.

The kings celebrated the birth and christening of the young prince with feasting. Normally, a gathering of kings like this would also include hunting, but the snow and ice that still blanketed the forests made that too dangerous for both horses and riders. Uther’s guests remained warm near the fires in the great hall, drinking wine and ale between the seemingly endless platters of food that Uther’s cooks prepared.

Queen Ygerna and Arthur remained secluded in their private apartments for the most part. But they made several appearances in the great hall during the festivities, much to the delight of their guests. Uther checked on them often. He loved Ygerna, and he was delighted to see her recovering quickly from the physical strain of childbirth. She was happier than he’d ever seen her. Looking at the baby in her arms, he found himself happier than he ever thought possible.

Late on the second night of the celebration, Merlin and the kings sat near the fire in the great hall, enjoying the afterglow of much good food, wine, and ale.

Nudd-Lludd looked over to Mor. "Is there any chance of you retaking York? Surely Colgrin doesn’t have that many troops along your eastern shores."

Mor shook his head, sloshing ale from his tankard onto the flagstone floor. He’s entrenched. I couldn’t dislodge him no matter how hard I tried. And now that he’s formed an alliance with Hengist and Horsa in the south, he can get Saxon reinforcements by longboat before I can get my army organized. If High King Vortigern doesn’t come to my aid, half of my kingdom will remain lost to me and my heirs.

Nudd-Lludd snorted and wiped ale froth from his beard with the back of his hand. Vortigern will never come to your aid, Mor. He married Hengist’s daughter thirteen years ago, remember? As long as Hengist and Colgrin are allies, Vortigern doesn’t dare do anything to upset his father-in-law. He’s barely keeping the Saxons contained along the southeastern coast.

Don’t talk about the High King in that way, Ceretic said.

Relax, Ceretic. Uther gestured for a servant to refill everyone’s tankards. "No one’s insulting King Vortigern. But you have to admit that the Saxons, Jutes, and Anglians in Britain have increased in number since he married Rowenna. They’re encroaching all along the southern and eastern coasts of Britain, and the High King doesn’t seem to be doing anything to stop them. Vortigern’s own sons by his first wife deposed him and fought Hengist back to the original Saxon borders in the southeast. Vortimer would still be High King if he hadn’t been jealous of Ambrosius Aurelianus and decided to attack him instead of keeping his focus on the Saxons."

Don’t get me started on Ambrosius Aurelianus, Gwrast Ledlwm roared contemptuously. Did you know that he refers to his army as the ‘legion’? Mascen Wledig withdrew the Roman Legions from Britain eighty-two years ago. Who does he think he is? I’ll tell you this: he and the rest of the damnable Roman faction on the Council of Kings are doing nothing but making things hard for Vortigern.

Gwranst’s face turned red as he looked over at Uther. I’m sorry, Uther. I know you’re half-Roman yourself. I didn’t mean…

So what if Ambrosius is Roman or Uther is half-Roman? Mor interrupted. Vortigern is not lord over us. We elected Vortigern as High King to handle the defense of Britain, and he’s done a poor job. If Ambrosius can do a better job, we should elect him to replace Vortigern."

You’re speaking treason, Mor, Ceretic growled.

How so? Mor demanded. "Vortigern is in charge of our armies in the field; he is not King of Britain. If we elected him, we can just as easily remove him and replace him with someone who will keep us safe from our enemies."

It’s never been done before, Nudd-Lludd pointed out.

There’s always a first time, Mor stated.

Ceretic looked over at Uther. You’ve been quiet on this subject, Uther. What are your thoughts?

Uther looked at the other kings. He took a swig of ale and put down the tankard. Ever since the Night of the Long Knives nine years ago, we’ve known that the Saxons can never be trusted. We’re fortunate that none of us was present that night, or we’d be dead, too. The presence of the Saxons and their allies in Britain is a threat to all of us. We made Vortigern the head of our armies and responsible for the defense of Britain. For a while, he led our armies well… until he invited Hengist and Horsa to come as mercenaries to help him defend Britain against the Irish, Picts, and Caledonians. Now, every year we lose territory, and the Saxons and their allies gain. Hengist has even expanded north to within sight of the former Roman capital of Camulodunum! If this continues, we’ll be overrun, and the Saxons will be our masters. Whatever it takes to prevent that is the only rational choice for us.

So you support deposing Vortigern and replacing him with Ambrosius? Gwrast accused.

I didn’t say that, Uther replied carefully. "But Vortigern needs to remember that he answers to us, not to Hengist. If the High King won’t defend us against the Saxons, Jutes, Anglians, Irish, Picts, and Caledonians, then replacing him with someone who will becomes a matter of survival."

Do you think that we’re there yet? Nudd-Lludd asked.

Uther leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. I don’t know, but I think that we’ll have our answer by year-end.

After the other kings retired for the night, Uther and Merlin sat alone in the great hall.

What are your thoughts, Merlin?

Merlin drained his tankard. Nudd-Lludd is right. Vortigern’s loyalties are divided, and Britain is suffering as a result. If he can’t or won’t stop the Saxons from encroaching into our lands, then the kings must elect someone else to lead us.

He was right about one thing, Uther said, referring to Nudd-Lludd. It’s never been done before.

Merlin leaned forward. Vortigern is only our second High King since we threw off Roman rule fifty-five years ago. The kings didn’t grant him lordship over their respective kingdoms. He serves at the pleasure of the kings, and if the kings are displeased with him, then they have the right to replace him.

Replace him with whom? Uther asked. Ambrosius?

He seems an obvious choice, Merlin replied. He’s been successful at fighting the Saxons, he defeated and killed Vortimer five years ago… He’s very popular in the south. If he can rally even a few of the northern kings, he’ll have proven himself a good candidate for High King.

Merlin paused for a moment. Unless a strong king from the north were to declare himself a candidate.

Uther looked at Merlin sharply. Who, me?

Merlin nodded.

Uther laughed. Merlin, you’re insane! I have no desire to be High King. I have enough problems up here without having to be concerned with problems in the south. Besides, a High King can’t stay in one place. I’d be traveling and fighting all the time. I’d never see Ygerna or Arthur unless they traveled with me, and what kind of life is that for them? No, Gododdin is mine, and it’s all that I want.

And Vortigern? Merlin asked.

I’ll wait and watch, Uther replied. If he fails us again, I’ll throw my support behind a new candidate for High King.

Even if it leads to war between the kings?

Uther shook his head in disgust. "I’ve never known such a group of petty, selfish, and easily offended people as those on the Council of Kings. Whoever becomes High King will have to unite them while defending them from invasion. I can’t imagine a more difficult and thankless task. I won’t lightly agree to plunge us into war with each other. The candidate for High King must have the support of a majority of the kings. Otherwise, the Saxons and their allies will use our internal squabbles as an invitation to attack and conquer. We can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.

The largest log in the fire cracked, sending up a shower of sparks that illuminated the great hall with orange light. Uther refilled his and Merlin’s tankards and sipped his ale in silence.

If Ambrosius can prove himself again in battle against the Saxons and can unite the southern and central kingdoms, then he’ll have my support as the next High King.

A few days later, the kings congratulated Uther and Ygerna once more on the birth of Prince Arthur before leaving Din Eidyn to return to their own kingdoms.

The air was brisk, and the sunlight was bright. Uther’s banner snapped in the breeze over the walls of the hillfort. Standing above the main gates, Uther watched his guests and their retainers and servants ride south down the causeway and disappear in the distance.

I look forward to seeing them again. Nudd-Lludd’s wife is pregnant and should deliver his first child late in the spring. I’ll be there for the christening, and perhaps by then we’ll know if Vortigern should remain as our High King.

A clanging behind him caught Uther’s attention. He climbed down off the walls and walked to the northwest corner of the hillfort. Frost crunched underneath his boots as he walked.

Nestled between the barracks along the western wall and the stables that ran the full length of the norther wall, was the smithy. Uther kept a mounted fighting force of two hundred men in the hillfort, in addition to fifty guards. A dedicated blacksmith and armorer was required to maintain his soldiers’ equipment.

He walked past the kitchens, storehouses, and workshops clustered around the great house. Then he crossed the soldiers’ training grounds before finally reaching the smithy.

My Lord, Uther! the blacksmith said when Uther entered. How may I be of service?

Uther smiled at the blacksmith. Uther had a gift for surrounding himself with talented men, and the blacksmith was no exception. His skills were legendary, as demonstrated by the fact that each of the kings attending Prince Arthur’s christening had tried unsuccessfully to lure him away from Uther’s service.

I need a sword, Uther said, looking at the weapons lining the far wall of the smithy."

The blacksmith frowned. Have you already damaged the last one I made for you, my Lord?

Uther shook his head. No, there’s nothing wrong with my sword. This is for Prince Arthur.

Ah, the blacksmith said. Do you want a short sword from him to have once he’s old enough to hold it?

No, I want you to make the sword he’ll receive when he comes of age.

That’s a long time off, my Lord.

Uther nodded. I know, but I want it ready when he’s old enough, and I want you to make it. There’s no one I trust more to make him a weapon that’ll be beautiful in peace and terrifying in battle.

The blacksmith bowed. It’ll be my honor, my Lord,

Good. Spare no expense. I want this to be the greatest sword you’ve ever made.

I promise that you’ll be pleased, my Lord.

Uther left the blacksmith and returned to the great house. He found Ygerna sitting in a chair by the fire in their bedroom. Arthur was in her arms, feeding on her milk.

Uther crossed the room and kissed Ygerna. How’s my son today?

Hungry and happy. Ygerna smiled. Like his father.

Uther grinned. And how is his mother doing?

Better. Has everyone left?

Uther nodded. I watched them ride down the causeway. I doubt I’ll see them again until Nudd-Lludd’s wife gives birth in a few months, assuming there’s no fighting between now and then.

I hope not, Ygerna said. I want you home with me and our son.

There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.

Chapter 2

The spring thaws came early to Gododdin. The valley around Din Eidyn turned various shades of green as the blanket of snow melted, filling the streams and rivers all around. Even the rocky hills that overlooked the village seemed more beautiful than usual.

Arthur attended his first Easter mass that spring. He nestled quietly in Ygerna’s arms throughout the entire service, stirring only once when his mother knelt in prayer. This was the first time that the young prince had left the hillfort, and the people of Din Eidyn crowded around Uther and Ygerna after the service to catch a glimpse of their future king.

A week after Easter, Uther made preparations to leave for Bryneich to be there for the birth of Nudd-Lludd’s firstborn. He checked on his horse in the stables, and as he walked past the smithy, he noticed the blacksmith running after him.

My Lord, Uther! I have something to show you!

What is it? Uther asked.

The blacksmith smiled. I’ve finished the sword.

Uther followed the blacksmith to the smithy. The blacksmith opened a locked cabinet along the far wall, pulled out an object wrapped in thick cloth, and set the bundle down on the counter. He stepped back after removing the cloth and exposing the sword in its scabbard, waiting to see Uther’s reaction.

Uther picked up the scabbard and examined the sword’s hilt. Then he drew the sword and examined the blade, testing its balance and heft. After a few minutes, he returned the sword to its scabbard and handed it back to the blacksmith.

I named it ‘Caliburn,’ Lord Uther, the blacksmith said, wrapping the sword back in the cloth.

It is your best work. Uther smiled broadly. It’s larger than my sword, isn’t it?

The blacksmith nodded. As I started working with the metal, the thought kept coming to me that it should be long enough for mounted fighting, but not so long as to be a backsword. It can be used one-handed or two-handed, depending on the situation.

The blacksmith handed the bundle to Uther. I hope that the young prince will be pleased when he comes of age.

I’m certain that he will be. It’s a magnificent sword. You’ve outdone yourself again.

The blacksmith accepted the praise with a bow to his king.

Uther left the smithy and crossed the grounds to the great house. Caliburn. A strong name for an exceptional weapon. I look forward to presenting it to Arthur when he turns sixteen.

Ambrosius Aurelianus, Overlord of the Roman Kingdoms of Lundun, Glouvia, and Atrebatia in south central Britain, sat on his horse as the sun sank in the west. He looked out over the plains that stretched north from Lapis Tituli; bodies littered the ground as far as the eyes could see, and blood had stained the green grasses a reddish-brown. Search parties moved across the field of battle, looking for survivors who could be saved and identifying the dead and dying. They also had orders to kill any Saxons who were still alive. The carrion birds, who were attracted to battles like moths to an open flame, were already feeding on the bodies farthest from the search parties.

Ambrosius’ standard unfurled in the wind. The gold dragon on a field of red rippled and snapped as the wind gusted in the evening light. His standard bearer had to shift his stance to keep the flagpole from being torn from his grip.

Such a terrible loss of life. We won the day, but the cost was too high. I must build more forts along the Saxon frontier to watch what Hengist and Horsa are up to. We barely had any warning that they were moving northwest.

The sound of horses brought Ambrosius back to the present. He turned and saw his allies approaching. King Gerren Llyngesoc of Dumnonia in the southwest corner of Britain, King Triffyn Farfog of Dyfed in southwestern Wales, King Cynyr Ceinfarfog of Gwent in southeastern Wales, and King Ogrfan Gawr of Ergyng in southeastern Wales soon joined him on the ridge that overlooked the battlefield.

The Saxons have retreated back behind their borders, Lord Ambrosius, Ogrfan said. They’re leaving their dead and wounded behind for us to deal with.

Kill their wounded, and burn the bodies of all of the Saxons, Ambrosius ordered.

What about their weapons and equipment? Triffyn asked.

Burn everything Saxon. They’re a pestilence on Britain, and I don’t want anything of theirs to remain.

Where was King Vortigern today? Cynyr asked. I never once saw the red dragon on a field of green. We sent messengers, but he and his army never came.

You can’t expect him to take up arms against his father-in-law, can you? Ogrfan asked. "When he took Rowenna into his bed, he turned his back on the Council of Kings. You’ll never see Vortigern’s standard in battle again unless he’s fighting us."

We must call for a Council of Kings and elect a new High King, Lord Ambrosius, Gerren stated. Vortigern has betrayed us. His Saxon allies are growing too numerous for us to defend against. If we don’t raise up someone who will drive the Saxons from our shores, we’ll find ourselves being ruled by Hengist and his sons before long.

The other kings agreed.

Ambrosius stared at the field below him, deep in thought. After several minutes, he said, We created the position of High King to lead our armies in battle and to prevent us from fighting among ourselves. If we remove Vortigern as High King and elect someone to replace him, we risk civil war, which will only benefit Hengist and his allies. But we can’t continue having a High King who refuses to fight the Saxons because he’s married to one. Vortigern must go, but we can’t risk handing Britain to Hengist because we’re too busy fighting each other.

Vortigern will be handing Britain to Hengist if we don’t risk it, Gerren said.

Ambrosius nodded as he watched the search parties.

Uther arrived at Nudd-Lludd’s fortress in Bryneich two weeks after Easter. King Ceretic of Strathclyde, King Mor of Ebrauc, and King Gwrast of Rheged arrived on the same day. Merlin didn’t accompany Uther on this journey. He remained behind at Din Eidyn in his role as Regent while Uther was away.

Uther had just settled in and was about to search for the others when a servant ran up to him. My Lord, Uther. King Nudd-Lludd requests that you join him in the great hall.

Uther followed the servant. He arrived in the great hall and found the other kings waiting for him. Nudd-Lludd could barely hide the smile on his face.

I have a son! Nudd-Lludd blurted out when he saw Uther.

Uther and the other kings congratulated their host. A servant brought Uther a tankard of ale, and Uther toasted his friend.

What did you name him? Mor asked.

Well, I wanted to name him Bedivere, but like Ygerna, my wife prefers Welsh names. We named him Bedwyr.

Uther and the other kings laughed. They knew that the queens of the northern kingdoms were headstrong and often got their way.

As servants brought in food, and the kings filled their plates, Nudd-Lludd pulled Uther aside. I must speak with you privately, Uther.

Uther nodded. Are your wife and son all right?

Oh, they’re doing fine, Nudd-Lludd assured him. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.

Nudd-Lludd led Uther into a chamber just off the great hall so they wouldn’t be overheard. Have you heard what happened at Lapis Tituli?

Uther shook his head. Where’s that?

On the southeastern coast near the Saxon frontier. A messenger arrived today with the news. Hengist crossed his borders with his army and tried to move west and north into Lunden and Atrebatia.

Ambrosius’ lands.

Nudd-Lludd nodded. Ambrosius raised his army, along with the armies of Dumnonia, Dyfed, Gwent, and Ergyng. He chased the Saxons back, and the two forces met at Lapis Tituli. By the end of the day, the Saxons had retreated behind their borders, but the losses on both sides were terrible.

Gwent? Isn’t King Cynyr married to Vortigern’s daughter?

Nudd-Lludd nodded. When Vortimer deposed his father, Cynyr joined him in his fight with Hengist and Horsa. But he didn’t fight with Vortimer against Ambrosius. He’s been allied with Ambrosius for years.

And where was Vortigern during the battle? Uther asked.

No one knows, Nudd-Lludd replied softly. He refused to answer Ambrosius’ calls for help.

Uther was shocked. Hengist launches an invasion, and the High King is nowhere to be found? Has his marriage to Rowenna corrupted him that much?

Nudd-Lludd shook his head. I don’t know. But the messenger also said that the southern kings are calling for a Council of Kings to address Vortigern’s apparent treachery against Britain.

When?

The first of May, Nudd-Lludd replied. King Ogrfan of Ergyng has offered to host the Council.

I can’t believe that it has finally come to this, Uther said. Do the others know?

No, Nudd-Lludd replied. I wasn’t sure if I should tell them or not.

You have to tell them, Uther said firmly. The meeting’s just over a month away. They need time to prepare for the journey.

Nudd-Lludd nodded glumly. Uther knew that the discussion arising from the announcement would put a damper on the celebration of Bedwyr’s birth. Uther put his hand on Nudd-Lludd’s arm.

You don’t have to tell them now, of course. It can wait until they’ve eaten and drunk their fill.

Nudd-Lludd’s face brightened. You make an excellent point, Lord Uther.

Uther smiled. Then why don’t we join them and get the celebrations started?

Nudd-Lludd led Uther back to the great hall, where the other kings had already begun the celebration that would last until well past midnight.

Vortigern, King of Gwynedd in northern Wales and High King of Britain, raced back to his fortress at Carn Fadrun. Sweat glistened on his horse’s neck, and its breathing had become labored, but Vortigern pressed on as the sun rose over the hills to the east.

He had seen the messenger leaving the fortress a few minutes earlier. He’ll have given the message to Rowenna. I can’t have her send it on to her father until I know what it is.

He rode through the gates to the foot of the stone keep in the center. The fortress, originally built by the Roman Legions based in the northwest corner of Gwynedd, had been the home of one of the Roman governors of Britain. Now it served as Vortigern’s primary residence and the capital of Gwynedd.

He ran up the stairs to the keep. Rowenna! he bellowed as he entered.

Here, my Lord, she replied calmly as she appeared from behind him.

What did the messenger want? Vortigern demanded.

There was a battle at Lapis Tituli in the south. Ambrosius raised the southern armies and slaughtered hundreds of my father’s men.

Why didn’t he send for me to reinforce his position? Vortigern demanded.

Unknown, my Lord, Rowenna said smoothly, providing no indication that she had intercepted all of the messages sent from Ambrosius and his allies. Perhaps he doesn’t feel that he needs your permission or your assistance to murder my people.

Vortigern glared at her. He normally found her beauty intoxicating, but he was too irritated by the news from Lapis Tituli to let himself get distracted. What else did the messenger say?

Only that a Council of Kings has been called for the first of May in Ergyng. The southern kings demanded the meeting.

They summoned me to a Council meeting? Vortigern asked darkly.

Rowenna nodded. As if they can summon their High King like you’d call for a servant. Have they no respect for your office?

Apparently not, he replied. Anything else?

Rowenna shook her head. Will you allow my father to attend the Council of Kings meetings?

Vortigern gaped at her. Are you insane? If Hengist shows up at the Council meeting, the kings will either think that it’s the Night of the Long Knives all over again, or they’ll do to your father what he did to the British leaders after the Battle of Rithergabail ten years ago. There’s no way I can allow him to attend.

He is the king of a British kingdom, Rowenna noted.

Only because he calls himself a king, Vortigern retorted. He was never granted a kingdom in Britain. He was granted land to settle as payment for his help against the troublesome Irish, Picts, and Caledonians. That he now calls himself ‘king’ is one of the reasons so many of the true British kings don’t trust me any longer.

"And if you continue to dismiss his title, what do you think will happen the next time the Irish, Picts, or Caledonians invade your borders? Rowenna asked. He could just as easily withhold his support from you when you need it the most. Can you really afford for him to do that?"

Don’t threaten me, Rowenna! Vortigern barked. "You may be Hengist’s daughter, but I’m your husband. Remember your place."

Rowenna lowered her eyes. Of course, my Lord.

Vortigern strode down the hallway to his private chambers. Why did I ever marry her in the first place? It was madness! I was so captivated by her beauty that I’d have given my kingdom to possess her. And now look at what has happened. Vortimer and my other sons rebelled against me and took my kingdom from me. Cadeyrn was killed ten years ago by Hengist at Rithergabail, Vortimer was killed five years ago by Ambrosius at Wallop, and now my two youngest sons, Pascent and Faustus, are dead from some mysterious illness. I have no one to rule Gwynedd once I’m gone, and now the Council of Kings may strip me of the High Kingship of Britain.

Vortigern looked at his war banner on the wall of his private chamber. The red dragon on a field of green hung limp on its pole – powerless in the low light of the dying fire. I’ll never give up the High Kingship willingly. Rowenna is pregnant. She’ll give me a son to be king after I’m gone. Her father will support me should the kings turn on me. Gwynedd is mine, and Britain is mine. They’ll never take either from me.

Vortigern called a servant to build up the fire. As he stared at the flames spreading to the new wood, he remembered something he needed to do quickly. Until I know for certain that Rowenna is pregnant with a boy, I need to name my nephew, Ynyr, as Regent and my heir should something happen to me. Gwynedd needs a strong king if I’m no longer here.

Uther stood next to Nudd-Lludd the next morning as the other kings were informed about the Battle at Lapis Tituli and the summoning of the Council of Kings. In spite of the quantity of ale consumed the night before, the news sobered them up immediately.

The first of May in Ergyng? Gwrast of Rheged repeated. It hardly seems worth the effort for the rest of you to return home and then set out again for southeastern Wales. Why don’t you all travel to Luguvalium with me? We can spend a few days hunting and then travel to Ergyng together.

Uther and Ceretic nodded immediately.

Gwrast looked at Nudd-Lludd and Mor. What say you two?

Nudd-Lludd smiled. Count me in!

Mor looked at the others. That’s a great idea. I just need to borrow a messenger to let my wife know what I’m doing and that I won’t be home for several weeks.

Me, too, Uther and Ceretic said in unison.

And I need to tell my wife that we’re coming, Gwrast said.

I’ll make my messengers available to you, my friends, Nudd-Lludd said pleasantly. It’ll be good to travel together to the Council meeting.

Uther looked at the others. I wonder if we’ll be traveling together AFTER the Council meeting. Will we still be friends if the Council decides to depose Vortigern once and for all?

Merlin stood at the top of the causeway as the messenger from Bryneich arrived. The messenger handed Merlin the dispatches from Uther and rode back toward the village below to rest his horse before returning to King Nudd-Lludd.

Merlin read Uther’s letters twice before heading for the great house to inform Ygerna that the kings had been summoned to a Council meeting.

What is it, Merlin? Ygerna asked when he entered the newly completed nursery.

Merlin held up the dispatches. Messages from Uther, my Lady. A Council of Kings has been summoned in Ergyng on the first of May. He and the other kings gathered at Bryneich are leaving from there and traveling together. They’re going to Rheged first, and then Ergyng. He expects to be home in late May.

Ygerna held out her hand. Merlin gave her the letters. I see. Does my husband say anything about Nudd-Lludd’s baby?

Merlin smiled. It was a boy, born two weeks after Easter. They named him Bedwyr, which is Welsh for Bedivere.

Ygerna glanced at Uther’s letters. There was another battle in the south. Is that why the Council has been summoned? Are they going to elect a new High King and replace Vortigern?

Uther wasn’t clear about that in the letters, my Lady, but that’s probably why the Council was summoned and what they’re meeting to discuss.

Which of the kings do you think they’ll choose? Ygerna asked.

Ambrosius, Merlin replied. Uther and the southern kings support him. I don’t know about the Welsh kings or the other northern kings.

This could lead to war, couldn’t it?

Merlin nodded. I know that Uther hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but Vortigern is no friend of Britain’s any longer, so the sooner he’s replaced, the sooner we can reunite against the Saxons and their allies.

Are there any preparations that we need to make here in case one of our neighbors sides against Uther? Ygerna asked.

Merlin looked at his queen with admiration. She thinks like Uther. No wonder they’re so good together.

There are, he replied, I’ll get started on them immediately.

Thank you, Merlin, Ygerna said, looking at Prince Arthur sleeping in his crib. Keep me informed.

Yes, my Lady.

Uther and the other northern kings arrived at King Ogrfan’s fortress in Ergyng the day before the Council meeting was to begin. Most of the other kings had already arrived. Even King Budic had arrived from Brittany, even though he wasn’t a voting member of the Council. Only two kings were missing: Vortigern and Ambrosius.

Uther and the other northern kings settled into their chambers quickly before seeking out the other kings. It had been several years since the Council had met, and there were friendships to rekindle and deals to be struck before the meetings began.

Ambrosius arrived at nightfall. The other kings were in the great hall when he strode in. Ambrosius immediately congratulated Uther and Nudd-Lludd on the births of their sons before making his rounds to greet the other kings.

As the evening progressed, Uther thought that the gathering seemed congenial enough, but he sensed the tension building. I hope the meetings don’t tear our alliance apart. We cannot stand against the Saxons unless a strong High King keeps us united.

The next morning, servants brought in a large table and set it in the center of the great hall. The banners of each of the kings present stood in holders behind their assigned places. Uther saw his standard – the gold boar on a field of dark blue – and stood behind his seat. Each king was allowed to have a dagger for food, but their swords had to remain outside the great hall. As the kings took their seats, one remained empty: Vortigern’s.

Uther stared at the empty seat. Is he coming? Does he think that he no longer has to answer to us?

There were nervous whispers around the room. Finally, Ambrosius, sitting directly across from Vortigern’s empty chair, stood to address the Council. Before he could speak, there was a commotion in the courtyard outside the great hall. A moment later, Vortigern stormed into the hall, followed by his standard-bearer. The High King crossed to the far side of the great hall without a word. Then he snatched his standard from the standard-bearer, slammed it into its holder, and turned to face the assembled kings.

How dare you summon this Council without consulting me first?

Chapter 3

The other kings took their seats, but Ambrosius remained standing, staring defiantly across the table at Vortigern. The High King glared back, waiting to see what Ambrosius would do.

"This Council is not obligated to consult you, King Vortigern. You answer to us, not the other way around."

Vortigern slammed his fists onto to the table. You insolent little Roman whelp, he growled, referring to the fact that Ambrosius was only in his mid-twenties. "How dare you speak to me in that manner?"

Ambrosius sneered. Better to be an insolent Roman whelp than the Saxons’ lapdog, King Vortigern.

Vortigern’s face turned red. He seemed unable to speak.

King Ogrfan of Ergyng stood. My Lords, please. If we cannot respect each other, let us respect our various offices and keep this meeting congenial.

Ambrosius nodded to his host. Thank you, Lord Ogrfan. You’re right. Looking at Vortigern, Ambrosius added, King Vortigern, will you please take your seat? I promise I’ll answer your initial question presently.

Vortigern looked confused at Ambrosius’ change of tactic. He sat, and a servant brought him wine to drink. His eyes never left Ambrosius.

My fellow Kings of Britain, Ambrosius began. Most of you know that Hengist and Horsa broke their treaty with us and invaded Lundun and Atrebatia shortly after Easter. Kings Gerren of Dumnonia, Triffyn of Dyfed, Cynyr of Gwent, and our host, King Ogrfan of Ergyng, answered the call and helped my army drive the Saxons back. Losses were high on both sides, but we were victorious.

King Cadell Ddyrnllug of Powys stood. Lord Ambrosius, why didn’t you send for the High King when you requested help from the southern kingdoms?

"I did send messengers to the High King, Ambrosius replied. He gestured to the southern kings sitting next to him. We all sent messengers to the High King requesting his help. We received no replies."

That’s a lie! Vortigern shouted.

It’s no lie, King Gerren of Dumnonia stated. My messengers returned saying that they were forced to speak with Queen Rowenna because you were ‘attending to more pressing matters.’ I’d like to know what those pressing matters were, King Vortigern.

"There were no pressing matters that would keep me from receiving or responding to your messages, Vortigern insisted. The queen never told me about any messengers that she received on my behalf."

Hardly surprising, since the messages requested that your armies help fight against her father, King Triffyn of Dyfed said sarcastically.

Vortigern slowly rose to his feet, red-faced and clearly furious. "Are you suggesting that my wife purposely withheld your messages from me out of loyalty to her father?"

No, King Vortigern, Triffyn said, standing and facing the High King. "I’m stating it outright. Because any other explanation would be that you committed treason against your fellow kings. Either you have a traitor in your house who’s in league with the Saxons, or you are the traitor in your house."

Vortigern slumped back into his seat – clearly distraught from the accusation.

King Cadell of Powys and King Brychan of Brycheiniog, both Welsh kings, jumped to their feet and shouted their support for Vortigern. The great hall erupted. Most of the kings began shouting accusations against Vortigern and his queen, but a few shouted their support for the High King. Vortigern continued glaring at Ambrosius but remained silent.

Ogrfan, worried that the kings might start fighting, motioned for the servants to bring in food and wine. The servants placed platters of food around the table and refilled the wine goblets, disrupting the meeting. Ogrfan’s plan worked; the kings grew quiet and sat until the servants left the great hall. Only Ambrosius remained standing with an inscrutable expression on his face as he stared at Vortigern.

Do you have something else you wish to accuse me of? Vortigern asked, regaining his composure.

No, Ambrosius said calmly. But I do wish to apologize again for the death of your son, Vortimer. It was unfortunate that he forgot his responsibilities to Britain by attacking me. With his victories over Hengist and Horsa, he’d have made a fine High King. His death returned the High Kingship to you, and that has proved disastrous for us all. You’ve failed in your responsibilities, King Vortigern. You’re not fit for the High Kingship, and I recommend that this Council choose someone to replace you. You will, of course, retain your kingdom of Gwynedd and continue to be a member of this Council, but the title of High King should be stripped from you and given to someone who will faithfully carry out its duties.

Ambrosius sat down amid the stunned silence of the kings at the table. Even those who expected Ambrosius to recommend electing a new High King were dumbstruck when it actually happened. It was the first time that a High King of Britain had faced such a challenge since before the Roman Legions arrived five hundred years earlier.

It didn’t take long for the silence to be replaced by the din of voices as each of the kings spoke at the same time. Ogrfan, unable to bring order to the meeting, called for a recess until later in the day. Vortigern immediately left the great hall, followed by his supporters: Brychan of Brycheiniog, Cadell of Powys, Gwrast of Rheged, and Ceretic of Strathclyde.

Ambrosius found Uther walking alone along the western walls of the fortress. Ambrosius had just finished speaking with Mor and Nudd-Lludd, but now he wanted to have a conversation with the lord of the kingdom farthest away from his own.

Greetings, Lord Uther, he said as he approached. May I join you?

Uther smiled and gestured for Ambrosius to walk with him. Of course, Lord Ambrosius. It’s been a long time since we last spoke privately. How have you been?

Up to my shoulders in Saxons, as usual, Ambrosius replied. My lands border those of Hengist and Horsa, so I feel the tip of the spear more acutely than anyone else.

Mor is beginning to feel the same way, thanks to Colgrin occupying the eastern part of his kingdom, Uther noted.

Ambrosius nodded. I was just talking with Mor about that. Colgrin could potentially split Britain in half. You’d be caught between his Anglians and the Picts and Caledonians to the north, and I’d be caught between him and Hengist and Horsa’s Saxons to the south. Britain as we know it would cease to exist, and the survivors would be under Saxon and Anglian rule for generations. We need a united north to prevent this from happening.

I don’t think we have a united north, Lord Ambrosius. You saw Gwrast and Ceretic leave the hall with Vortigern, didn’t you? The kings of Rheged and Strathclyde are against you. Ceretic controls the northwestern border, and Gwrast holds all of central Britain. If the Council votes to replace Vortigern as High King, and the kingdoms of Rheged and Strathclyde decide to rebel against the Council’s wishes, then the kingdoms of Ebrauc, Bryneich, and Gododdin will be cut off from the rest of Britain. We won’t be able to come to the aid of the new High King, and the new High King won’t be able to come to our aid either. It’s exactly what Colgrin, Hengist, and Horsa want.

Ambrosius nodded. What’s to be done?

"The new High King must restore unity between the kingdoms of Britain before Colgrin, Hengist, or Horsa can move against us, Uther replied. The fighting between the kingdoms must not reduce our fighting strength in case of invasion. Our enemies will watch for any chance to exploit our squabbling."

But how can there be unity if any of the kings reject the Council’s decision? Ambrosius asked.

Uther stroked his beard as he regarded at Ambrosius. It won’t be easy. The new High King will have to pledge to come to the aid of any kingdom that requests it, even if that kingdom has openly rebelled against him. The new High King must rise above any opposition. He must lead by example and inspire unity through his actions. His commitment to be the High King for all of Britain will help restore any unity that’s lost by his election.

Ambrosius nodded and stopped walking. Lord Uther, will you give your support to me to be the next High King?

Uther turned and stared at him for a moment. Yes, Lord Ambrosius. I believe that you’re the best choice to lead us against our enemies, and you have my support. But remember, the High King must unite us in peace, not just in war.

I’ll remember, Ambrosius assured him. Smiling, he added, You don’t think I’m too young?

Uther shook his head. I’m only a few years older than you are, but you’ve won more battles than I have. That’s an important quality for the next High King.

Ambrosius grasped Uther’s forearm. Thank you, my friend!

The Council reconvened in the afternoon. Ogrfan provided plenty of food and drink, and the kings seemed to be in a better mood. Vortigern continued watching Ambrosius, as if he expected the Overlord of the Roman Kingdoms to challenge him to single combat for the High Kingship.

The afternoon discussions were less contentious than the morning debate had been. Each king stood and spoke on the issue of who should be High King and why. When it was Uther’s turn, he rose and addressed the Council.

My friends, we are beset by enemies on all sides. The Picts and Caledonians are lined up upon our northern borders. The Irish attack our western shores and have seized territories from Strathclyde down to southern Wales. The Anglians hold most of eastern Ebrauc, and the Saxons control our southeastern coast. This is not the time to be fighting among ourselves. With so many knives poised at our necks, we need a High King who will lead our armies to victory against our enemies.

Uther turned to the man sitting the end of the table. King Vortigern, you led our armies well for many years, but your policy of using Saxon mercenaries to help you defend Britain against the Irish, Picts, and Caledonians has been a disaster for all of us. That should have been obvious on the Night of the Long Knives, when Hengist slaughtered our leaders while they attended his peace conference. Your continued poor judgment regarding the Saxons and their allies has brought us to the brink of ruin, and your decision to marry Hengist’s daughter is a clear indication that you’re no longer fit to lead us against the forces of the man that you now call father. I vote that you be removed as High King and that Lord Ambrosius be named High King instead.

Uther sat down. Glancing to his left, he saw Mor and Nudd-Lludd nodding silently. Ambrosius, sitting across the table from Vortigern, smiled. Glancing to his right, Uther noticed that Gwrast and Ceretic glared at him angrily.

When it was their turn to speak, both Gwrast and Ceretic spoke in support of Vortigern, as did Brychan of Brycheiniog and Cadell of Powys.

Ambrosius stood and addressed the Council. I know that there are many of you who would prefer that Vortigern remain our High King. Believe it or not, I am one of them.

Ambrosius pointed to Vortigern. But only if King Vortigern acts like the High King of Britain and not the ally of the Saxons who threaten our very existence! If he’s unable or unwilling to push the Saxons and their allies back across the channel forever, then he’s no longer our High King. He must be deposed for the good of Britain, and for the good of each of our kingdoms. I vote that he be stripped of the High Kingship. Choose who you will to replace him. But know this. If you elect me as your next High King, I, and my armies, will come to your aid when you call for it, no matter whether you support me as High King or not. I won’t hold your vote against you, nor will I hold your opposition to me against you. The High King is High King of all of Britain, not just the kingdoms that he likes or chooses. That is my vow to you all.

Ambrosius sat. Most of the kings nodded in approval. Vortigern just glared. He was the only one who hadn’t yet spoken. He rose slowly and looked around the table.

Kings of Britain, you elected me as High King. Nowhere is it written that you can change your minds. None of you stood up for me when my son, Vortimer, usurped the High Kingship. But then none of you objected when the High Kingship returned to me upon Vortimer’s death at the hands of my challenger. I am High King, and I’ll remain High King until I die. I don’t recognize this Council’s authority to depose me, and if you attempt to do so, it’ll mean war between us. I’ll defend my crown, and my allies will rally to my banner and stand with me against you.

Ambrosius jumped to his feet. You’d use the Saxons against your own people to retain the High Kingship?!

I’ll use whatever methods I see fit, as is my right as High King, Vortigern replied.

Ambrosius looked around the table. "There can no longer be any doubt of your treason, Lord Vortigern. No High King can serve the kingdoms of Britain while threatening to unleash the Saxons and their allies against us. If you defy the Council and force us into war against you, I’ll lead my armies across Britain, and I’ll destroy you and your allies."

The kings who supported Ambrosius rose and gathered behind him at the end of the table: Nudd-Lludd of Bryneich, Gerren of Dumnonia, Triffyn of Dyfed, Cynyr of Gwent. Ogrfan of Ergyng, Mor of Ebrauc, and Uther of Gododdin. Even Budic of Brittany joined the other kings in support of Ambrosius. Only Brychan of Brycheiniog, Cadell of Powys, Gwrast of Rheged, and Ceretic of Strathclyde stood with Vortigern.

Vortigern reached for his standard and lifted it out of the holder. "The red dragon will never bow to the gold dragon, Lord Ambrosius. Not while there’s a breath left in me."

He left the great hall, followed by his four supporters.

When only the kings who supported Ambrosius remained, Uther said, Hail, Ambrosius, High King of Britain!

That night, Uther, Mor, and Nudd-Lludd spoke privately with Ambrosius.

We need to return to our kingdoms and prepare for any actions against us at the hands of our enemies or of Vortigern’s supporters, Uther said. But it’s not safe for us to cross Rheged any longer, and to go around would put us close to the lands held by the Saxons and the Anglians.

I’ll send three companies of cavalry to accompany you back to your kingdoms, Ambrosius promised.

Thank you, King Ambrosius, Nudd-Lludd said.

Ambrosius nodded. You three are my only support in the north. I can’t risk anything happening to you.

We’ll be ready when you need us, Uther assured him. At some point you’re going to have to do battle with Vortigern. The sooner you get that over with, the sooner we can turn our eyes back to our enemies.

I agree, Ambrosius said. I’ll keep you informed about what happens with him and his allies. If the Saxons or Anglians make any attempt to send men to support Vortigern’s forces, I’ll need your armies to help drive them back.

We’ll be there, Mor stated.

The next morning, Uther, Mor, and Nudd-Lludd set out from Ergyng with ninety soldiers from Ambrosius’ cavalry. They rode east around the southern border of Rheged before turning north along one of the Roman roads that led from Londinium to York.

On their third day north, Uther noticed Rheged soldiers positioned where the main roads crossed King Gwrast’s borders. He pointed it out to his two companions.

That didn’t take long.

I guess Gwrast decided to close his borders, Mor said sadly.

At least his soldiers aren’t coming after us, Nudd-Lludd added.

They’re no match for Ambrosius’ cavalry, Uther said.

As they reached the southern borders of Ebrauc, Mor and one company of cavalry left them to ride toward Mor’s temporary capital. Uther and Nudd-Lludd rode on with their escorts and reached Pons Aelius, the capital of Bryneich, several days later. Uther and the company of cavalry that accompanied him spent one night there to rest their horses, and they set out for Gododdin at first light. Five days later, they reached Din Eidyn. Uther offered the hospitality of his hillfort to the cavalry company, but the cavalry commander politely declined. Uther rode up the causeway to the hillfort as the cavalry company turned south to return to Ambrosius.

Merlin was waiting for Uther when he reached the great house. How did it go at the Council meeting? he asked.

Ambrosius is now High King, Uther replied.

How did Vortigern take the news?

Uther shook his head. He refused to recognize the Council’s decision. He says he’s going to fight to remain High King, and he threatened to unleash the Saxons on us if we oppose him.

Merlin looked shocked. Surely not!

Uther nodded.

Who is with him? Merlin asked.

Strathclyde, Rheged, Brycheiniog, and Powys.

No surprises there, Merlin commented.

Uther climbed the steps to the great house. I want to review our defenses after I’ve seen Ygerna and Arthur. We need to consider Strathclyde as a potential enemy.

Lady Ygerna asked me to begin making preparations in case things went this way, Merlin said. "I took the liberty of moving scouts along our