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  "It is true, Constantine, for with my own eyes I have seen it. When first this word came to me, I resolved to travel north and see the state of affairs for myself. Vortigern has indeed returned from exile, and he has not only forged an alliance with the Saxons; he is near to reaching agreement with the Picts. Indeed, as we sit here he may already have done so. The Picts are to have the north, the Saxons the east, and Vortigern the west and south."

  Constantine thought silently, for Merlin had always been right, and held the counselor’s words beyond doubt. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke clearly. "It is none too soon that we have called this council, and I pray we are able to reach agreement. For if we do not stand together, I fear we shall not stand at all. Indeed, even if all six kings here assembled join us, we may yet lack the strength to triumph. We must look for other allies."

  As Constantine finished speaking, he was taken by a fit of deep, dry coughs. Merlin rose and filled the king's goblet from a golden flagon that had been set on the table. Constantine nodded his thanks and took a shallow drink, clearing his throat so he could again speak.

  Before Constantine could continue, Merlin did, his voice brittle, as if he were speaking of something unpleasant. "There is but one potential ally with the strength to matter in this contest, and he is well known to both of us."

  "Gorlois," Constantine responded, his face contorted as if he had tasted something bitter. "He is not my friend, Merlin, nor am I his. We have fought each other many times, as you well know."

  "Needs may sometimes make friends from foes, for the lands of Gorlois also would fall under Vortigern also should he conquer all. He is no fool, Gorlois, nor will he relish the thought of bending his knee to Vortigern. He will listen to an entreaty, I believe. And though he is a vulgar man, and I like him no more than you do, to my knowledge he keeps his oaths."

  Constantine leaned back in his great oaken chair, eyes shut as he considered the situation. Ponder as he might, he could not think of an alternative. Finally, eyes still closed, he spoke softly. "I will dispatch ambassadors to his court at once." He paused for a moment. "I will send rich gifts also, for Gorlois is a vain fool, and such shall appease his pride."

  Again, Constantine was taken by a fit of coughing, though it was worse this time, and he pulled a cloth from the table to catch the spittle. When he was done, he quickly balled up the small rag in his massive fist, but Merlin saw the spray of crimson splotches on the white linen.

  The counselor’s face softened, and he looked at his companion with warmth and concern. "Constantine, my old friend, you needn't hide the truth from me. For I know well your affliction. A potion of herbs I can make that will ease your pains. After the counsel I shall depart, for only in the deep woods grow the vines I need. I fear it shall do nothing more than ease your discomfort and give you a bit more time, for I have no power to heal that which afflicts you."

  "Is that your way of telling me I'm dying, Merlin?" He laughed, which almost sent him into another spasm of coughing. Catching himself, he continued. "That my sickness is mortal is well known to me, good friend. I am old, and I have traveled far and seen many things. I am at peace with my fate, but I cannot die and leave my kingdom to fall to Vortigern. I will not. I must conclude these alliances before I breath my last. And your wisdom is, as always, sound. We must have Gorlois. There is no one else."

  The treaty with Gorlois must be carefully drafted." Merlin's expression was stern, thoughtful. "I will do it if you will permit me. And it should be made as strong as possible, for though Gorlois knows that Vortigern covets his lands, yet he still might ally with him if he feels weak or threatened. We must bind Gorlois firmly to our alliance. Perhaps a marriage."

  "You speak wisdom, Merlin, but I have no daughter, loath as I would be to consign her to Gorlois' bedchamber. Nor does Gorlois have a daughter to wed to Uther. Where shall I find a bride to offer?"

  Long they spoke, about many things - what barons of Constantine's had suitable daughters, the terms to offer Gorlois, who should be sent to Cornwall to make the entreaty. When they were finished, Constantine had one last matter he wished to discuss. "I want to send an emissary to Rome,” he said, “for I have not lost hope that the empire may yet return to these shores."

  Merlin looked at him doubtfully. "My friend, I fear that we can expect neither imperial aid nor the return of the legions to our shores. Many chances there were in the last century for a strong and worthy man to invigorate the empire, yet all these chances went to dust, destroyed by treachery and murder. Stilicho, Aetius, your father. I knew them all, Constantine, and all were strong men and capable, yet each fell to an assassin's blade. The small men, the deceivers, they have won, I fear."

  "Alas, Merlin, you may be right, yet I feel compelled to try. After Chalons, Aetius swore to me that he would march to Britannia and reclaim the land for the empire. We were to leave as soon as he set things to right in Italia. He rode south, but he never returned. I beseeched him to take the purple, for I knew Valentinian was unworthy and not to be trusted, and his mother, that hellspawn Galla Placidia, even less. The army would have followed him, as would I. But Aetius, for all his petty scheming, was a loyal general of the empire, and he could not be persuaded. So it was that he was murdered by a jealous and unworthy master, and by the hands of Aetius' friends, Valentinian himself was slain in vengeance."

  Constantine doubled over in another spasm of coughing, and Merlin leapt up to succor his friend. The coughing, which had seemed to be a severe attack, ceased when Merlin placed his hand on Constantine's back, as though the king were somehow soothed by his companion's touch.

  Constantine grabbed his goblet and took a drink, clearing his throat forcefully. "Thank you, my friend. I am fine now. And, as I was saying, I cannot help but hope that another Aetius has risen in Rome, that the empire may yet be saved and restored to its glory. If this be just an old man's wistful musing, I know not, but we have had scant news from Rome since Aetius died, and none at all in nigh on ten years. It is long past time we know for certain - will the empire be restored, or are we truly alone?"

  Merlin sighed softly. "I am not hopeful of success from such a quest, yet I see no harm in trying. Whom do you propose to send?"

  "I have considered it, and I have decided to send Uther. Alas, Merlin, I fear he and I have been as water and oil. I would that things between us had been different. I tell you truly, Merlin, Uther is, in many ways, the most like me. All my sons are noble men and fill me with a father's pride, but my youngest was born with the lion's heart. Would that he were eldest, yet men cannot control such matters."

  Merlin looked concerned. "Uther will not want to leave you when battle is in prospect."

  Constantine's face betrayed a slight smile. "Indeed. But the boy must learn that duty and honor demand more than courage in battle. Uther is the youngest, so he is destined to serve his elder brother, and he must do so in many ways, not just with axe and sword. Perhaps such a journey will teach this to my son, for he will see many things and come to know a world far larger than Powys or Britannia."

  "There is greatness in Uther.” Merlin spoke abruptly, with considerable emotion. "I feel it strongly. Such travels, I believe, will give him much. I think your plan is a wise one."

  They spoke a bit longer, but finally Merlin bade his friend to retire, for he was weak and fatigued, and the morrow would be a long and trying day. Taking leave of his companion, Constantine walked to his bedchamber, but he knew he would not sleep. My body is dying, he thought, but my mind is still strong. I will see that my kingdom does not fall, by God, whatever I must do. Just give me the time, Lord, for there is much work ahead.

  After his father had retired, Uther found Merlin sitting before the fire in the great hall. The advisor, some said wizard, sat quietly in a large oak chair. Next to him, on a small wooden table, sat a silver plate and a flagon of spiced wine. On the plate was a small honey cake, only half eaten. The room was quiet except for the crackling of the fire and the sound of th
e wolfhounds gnawing on bones in front of the hearth.

  Uther entered from behind, but as he walked through the doorway, without turning around Merlin laughed. "Ah, Uther, my boy. I thought you would find me. It has been too long. Much too long, my young friend. How have you fared since last I was here? When was that...midyear last?” He paused, smiling at Uther. “Yes, it has been far too long."

  Uther stopped to play with the hounds, for they leapt up when he entered the room and ran over to greet him. "You have been missed, Merlin. Indeed, Caer Guricon is not the same when you are abroad."

  Merlin smiled and motioned for Uther to sit. "Grave tasks I had to fulfill, and it is they that have kept me so long from the company and comforts of Caer Guricon. Indeed, it was a cold winter where I traveled long, and the warmth of this hearth and company would have been most welcome."

  "War is coming, is it not, Merlin?" Uther walked past the dogs and took one of the other seats in the room. "For I have read many signs, not only that my father has called the council. He is deeply troubled, as I have never seen before." Uther paused uncomfortably before continuing. "And he is ill, gravely so, I fear, though he thinks he hides it."

  Merlin tried to suppress a smile for, though he knew Uther well, the boy still surprised him. "He is ill, Uther, and it is indeed serious. I am going to make him a potion that will ease his sufferings, yet he is old and his time grows short."

  "I feared it was so.” Uther was somber, his voice gentle. "I have noted the difference in him for some time. Alas, I fear I have not been the son he wished me to be, and though I am who I am, I regret that I have been a disappointment to him."

  "Nay, Uther," replied Merlin. “You are far wide of the truth, for your father is proud of you and loves you greatly. I have seen the two of you clash for years, to my great amusement, for he is more akin to you than to any of your brothers. Such it is that ofttimes like finds itself at odds with like, and more so when both are strong of will and spirit." Merlin saw the disbelief on Uther's face, but before the boy could respond, he spoke further. "Uther, as you trust in my word, believe me in this, for I speak the truth. Put your heart at rest, for we all have many trials ahead of us, and I would not have you troubled over a grief that exists only in your mind."

  Uther was silent, lost in his own thoughts about his father, himself, and their many arguments. He got up from his chair and stood in front of the hearth, his eyes following the flickering fire. Above the mantle was hung a finely crafted sword, polished but well-worn, with a leather grip, worn smooth from long use.

  Uther's fingers traced the raised lettering on the hilt of his grandfather's sword. "Legio XX," he read softly to himself from the finely crafted etchings. The old man had died long before Uther was born, but he had achieved greatness, and made the Pendragon name one known throughout Britannia. He had risen to become an emperor of Rome, only to be slain by his enemies through some unrecorded treachery. Uther never tired of listening to the stories of his famous grandsire, still remembered in these lands as Constantine II, King of the Britons.

  Merlin let the boy think for a few moments before continuing. "Your grandsire was a great man, Uther, and though it was his fate never to see his newborn son, I think he would have been proud of your father. Constantine has spent his life in the shadow of a sire who wore the purple, a man he never knew. Never has he held his achievements to be enough. But so it often goes with father and son. I would offer you some counsel if you will have it."

  Uther had been running his fingers down the flat of the blade as he listened to Merlin, and now he turned to face his friend. "Of course, Merlin. Your words I always take to heart."

  "Uther, ever have you and I been friends, for always I have seen in you much strength and virtue. You were born, I fear, with the heart of a king, more suited to an elder son than the younger. Yet, you are what you are, and 'tis likely your eldest brother shall be king, and you shall be left to serve your family in whatever ways he deems best.

  "Young though you are, I have never seen your equal in battle, yet to be a great warrior is not enough for a prince. For it is easy to fight any battle, even a hopeless one, and die with honor, yet far more difficult to forego conflict, or to treat with enemies and seek to make them allies. I would have you learn this and to understand more of such things, for though I know not where your future will lead, I feel there will be greatness for you - and victory, strife, heartbreak. Be ready for all that comes, and know that not every foe will battle you openly on the field honorably, with armor and sword."

  Uther was listening intently, for if there was anyone whose counsel the brash young prince valued, it was Merlin. Silently he returned to his chair and sat, the ancient oaken seat creaking as his great bulk settled into it.

  Merlin leaned toward his young friend and spoke quietly but firmly. "I would pray thee to obey your father and do whatever he may bid you do, for now is not the time for a test of wills between you. Your road forward, I foresee, shall lead places you cannot now imagine and bring you great joys and sadness, glorious victory and terrible loss. But now, your father needs you, no less than any of your brothers, for his strength fails and he now faces a great struggle."

  "So it is to be war then?” Uther spoke it as a question, but he did not wait for an answer. “And we shall be sorely pressed. Is this not truth?"

  "It is.” Merlin looked at Uther with admiration and approval. “More than you now know, for victory shall hinge as much on diplomacy and the search for allies as on courage in the field."

  Uther frowned dismissively. "Bah! I am no diplomat to sit and bandy words with pompous lords when battle is in the offing."

  "Indeed," interjected Merlin, "this is of what I speak. You are a prince of a great house, Uther, not a common soldier. Your honor and duty will demand much of you that you do not desire. If needs be you serve your father and people as diplomat, then so must you do."

  Uther did not argue, yet Merlin saw the frown still upon his face. "Uther, think you the empire came into being long ages past simply by strength of arms? Indeed, have you learned nothing from your father's own recountings of his battles with Aetius against the Huns? Battles that would have been lost had Aetius not forged an alliance with his old enemies to face the greater foe? Think you he wished to treat with old adversaries and seek their aid? Had Aetius and your father, and their comrades, thought as you do, Rome itself would be a generation in ashes now."

  There was long silence as they sat together. Uther rose and threw a large log into the hearth, grabbing a poker and pushing it into place over the hottest embers. The wood hissed for a few seconds and quickly caught, and soon the fire was roaring, the rush of heat forcing back the chill of the damp spring evening.

  Uther was the first to break the silence. "You speak wisely, Merlin, as always, yet I do not know if I can be what you seek. I have no tongue for such pursuits, nor the patience. But, I give you my oath that I shall try to complete whatever task is given me, for I am a loyal son of my house."

  Merlin smiled. "Uther, my friend - for boy no longer seems a fit name for the man sitting here with me - I am proud of you, though not at all surprised. You surmise correctly that war and strife are coming, for the whole north is allied against us, and the barbarians from across the narrow sea as well. We shall be sorely pressed to withstand their onslaught when it comes."

  "We should strike first.” Uther was almost shouting, his voice much louder then he'd intended. "For we shall take them unawares and seize the initiative." He softened his voice considerably.

  "Indeed, my friend, your battle tactics are sound and, had we two legions of old assembled and ready to march, I should agree with you. But think you, are we prepared for war? Last year's harvest was bad, ravaged by pestilence and early frost. Were the levy to be called now, and the spring planting abandoned, we would face famine by winter. Nay, we must have this year's harvest, as must our foes. After harvest, winter shall come soon, and the snows will make campaigning difficult. Thus, war s
hall not likely be upon us until next year, for beyond the harvest there is much else to prepare. This shall be no borderland dispute, but a battle for all Britannia, and the smiths and armorers have immense toils ahead before a great army takes the field."

  Merlin looked intently at Uther. "And allies we must still find, for we shall be overwhelmed without aid. This council shall end, as all such do, with half-promises and unfinished negotiations. Long after the kings have departed shall diplomacy continue, for though all will fall if they do not band together, still they will pick at old wounds and nurse ancient grievances. Great efforts and even more profound sacrifices we shall make if we are to withstand this test." Merlin stopped as if he was done, and Uther sat quietly, pondering the old man’s words. Finally, Merlin spoke again. "I know not what part you are destined to play in all of this, my dear friend, but I feel that in some way it will be greater than you now imagine. Embrace your fate, Uther, and fear no challenge. You will find, I pray, that you are more than just a great warrior."

  The two of them sat for a while longer, enjoying the fire, as the conversation turned to more pleasant and frivolous matters. As he usually did, Uther convinced Merlin to tell him a tale of times past. Though Merlin appeared to him much as he did to Constantine, Uther knew that his mysterious friend was very old indeed, and he had known many of the great men of times past.

  Finally, after talking long into the evening, Merlin rose slowly. "Well, my friend, I am not as youthful as you, and I have had a long and hard road of late. It is time for me to retire. I shall see thee again on the morrow."