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  With that, he glided quickly to the door and disappeared into the corridor beyond, leaving Uther to sit long into the night and ponder the words they had shared. The fire had burned down to ash before Uther finally rose and made his way through the near-darkness to his chamber, his mind still deep in thought.

  Easter morning dawned clear and cool. The town church could not hold all those who had come for the council, so tents had been erected in a great field so mass could be held where all could attend. All except the nobles, for they celebrated Easter in the Pendragon chapel in the castle, where the kings received communion from Tremorinus, Archbishop of Londinium. Though aged and frail, the revered churchman had come at Constantine's bidding, and his presence added solemnity and weight to the council set to begin the next day.

  Before him on their knees were seven kings, bareheaded and silent. Twice he passed before them, bringing them first bread, then wine, and when he was finished he bade them rise. When he had concluded the Easter mass, the archbishop led the assembled kings and barons in prayer for the success of the council. His voice was old and wavering, but there was strength still in it.

  In conclusion he said, "And so, oh mighty God, we pray to thee to give this noble company here assembled the strength to save the land and people, for they fight in your name, and are humble and faithful servants to thee."

  When the services were done the kings and lords retired to the courtyard, for everywhere there were tables laden with food and drink, and King Constantine feasted his noble guests. All around the courtyard of the castle were strewn garlands of early spring flowers, and the tables were set with plates of gold and services of silver.

  In the town and the camps below, the retinues of the kings and the people of the village also celebrated, for Constantine had declared that all would be feasted from his stores. Over great pits in the green wild boar were roasted, and game birds were piled in great multitudes, for the hunters of Caer Guricon had ranged far and wide over the king's lands to prepare for the festivities.

  Though it was Easter and declared a day of rejoicing, there was no break in the work for Constantine, for he was host to six other kings. On the morrow they would convene the council, and Constantine did not intend for any bad feelings to arise before it even began. He had seen more than one alliance shattered by an insult delivered at a feast or careless actions driven by too much wine.

  Indeed, there was ill blood between some of those assembled, and Constantine and Merlin strove hard to keep the peace and good feeling. Disputes would be common enough when the council was in session, but today the king wanted his guests mirthful and relaxed.

  Uther surprised his father, for he was among the kings all day, drawing from each stories of battles they had fought and even telling of his many escapes from the monastery, which brought King Pellinore and King Rience to great laughter when two had seemed about to argue.

  Long was the day, and after the midday meal was finished there were minstrels and entertainments of every kind and a grand tournament, where Uther claimed the victory, besting Leodegrance in the final round.

  At dusk the celebrations ended in the town and the camps, but in the castle there was a supper for the kings and their sons. All were in good spirits and the revels lasted well into the night. The last one to retire was Uther Pendragon, who had taken Merlin's counsel to heart and had impressed all present with not only his skill at arms, but also his honor and dignity.

  The council was convened the next day after the kings broke their fast together. The meal was simple after the feasting of the day prior, just bread and cheese and salt pork and fruits, with cups of strong ale. When they were assembled, the archbishop led all in a prayer for their success and declared the council in session. Present in addition to Constantine and Merlin were the six other kings, all proud and lordly and each with his own concerns and goals.

  Lot, king of Luthien, far to the north, closest to the Pictish allies of Vortigern and most threatened by them. Lot was distrustful of the southern kings, and reluctant to commit any of his forces other than to his troubled border.

  Urien, the youthful king of Rheged, no older than Uther himself and also a mighty warrior. Rheged was well north of Powys, straddling the great wall built by the Emperor Hadrian. Rheged and Luthien had been sometimes friends, sometimes enemies, though recent dangers had pushed them closer together. Urien had only recently succeeded his father, and none knew his mind as yet.

  Rience, king of Gwynned, just north and east of Powys, an arrogant and warlike monarch, not well-liked by his neighbors, most of whom he had fought at one time or another. A good warrior, but vain, he thought himself stronger than he was.

  Vortiporius, even younger than Urien, who had just ascended the throne of Dyfed, along the coast west of Powys, after his father Aurelius was slain in battle in Ireland. He was aggressive and ill-tempered, and though just a boy, he was clever and hard to read.

  Ogyruan, father of Leodegrance and king of Cameliard in south, bordering Cornwall. Constantine and Ogyruan were close friends, and Powys and Cameliard had long been allies. He would almost certainly support Constantine, though the others knew this and would pay little heed to his entreaties, thinking he and Constantine to be of one voice.

  Pellinore, king of the Isles, was also a warrior of great renown. He had allied with Aurelius, father of Vortiporius, for both claimed lands in Ireland and together they had sought to enforce their rule. Vortiporius blamed Pellinore for his father's death for failing to aid him in battle. In truth, Pellinore was himself sorely pressed when Aurelius marched into an ambush, and there was little he could have done. But the bad blood persisted.

  Thus were these seven free kings of Britannia assembled, for the others were pledged to the banner of Vortigern. To the east the Saxon invaders held the coasts, and in the far north the barbarous Picts hated all those of the south and would fight for Vortigern so they might invade and pillage rich lands.

  There was one other lord of import and power, and though not sworn to Vortigern, he had refused to attend the council. Gorlois of Cornwall ruled vast lands in southwestern Britannia and commanded a veteran army, which he had used time and again to bully his neighbors. A pompous and currupt lord, Gorlois was cruel, and he was liked by few. Most of those assembled were relieved he was not in attendance, but Constantine and Merlin knew they needed to add Gorlois' army to the alliance, or they would lack the strength to defeat Vortigern.

  "Once again, welcome to each of you, great kings of Britannia." Constantine stood at the head of the table as he began to address to the council. "My heartfelt gratitude to all of you for accepting my invitation. It has been far too long since I have seen some of you, my brothers.

  "We are met here to discuss a matter of grave import to all of us, for the usurper Vortigern is an enemy of each and every lord here assembled. Indeed, many of you have fought battles against each other, and some have met me on the field as well. But though we have had disputes, we are all loyal Britons, and I have asked you to come here because Britannia needs all its kings in this time of trouble. Vortigern invites the invader to our shores as his allies and mercenaries. Already much of the eastern coast has fallen, and the surviving lords there have sworn to our enemy. There were kings in the east who resisted, friends of mine, and of some of you as well, who now lie unburied in the smoking ruins of their castles.

  "Vortigern rouses the barbarians of the far north to march south, pillaging and burning as they go. Savage and godless, the Picts are a deadly threat to all, and first to our northern brethren here seated. Few of you are old enough to recall when I reclaimed the throne of Powys from this usurper, after he slew King Brochwel and dishonored and murdered that noble monarch's daughter. Many of your fathers stood with me then and were my allies, for they were outraged by Vortigern's fiendish deeds, and their hearts cried out for justice.

  "But now it is more than justice at stake, more than the return of a single throne to one with rights to claim it. For this t
ime, Vortigern has many times the strength he did when last I fought him. Indeed, he has the power to crush every kingdom and rule all of Britannia with an iron fist. Our disputes and grudges are of little import, for if we do not stand together then we shall fall, and those who survive defeat would do so as the usurper's slaves. I shall not live as such, and I will face the enemy alone if needs be.”

  Constantine looked out over his guests as he continued. "I am known to all here assembled, and I have ruled longer than any at this table. My father was not only imperial governor of Britannia, but also emperor of Rome, and I present this lineage to support my claim to the high kingship. I ask all of you to join our alliance and name me war leader so that I may again defeat the usurper. I claim no lands or spoil, no dominion over you or the rule of your kingdoms, only your support in facing this deadly foe."

  Constantine paused, for he could feel his own weakness. With every fiber of endurance left to him he struggled to stand firm and speak in a clear and commanding voice. His body ached, and his tired legs throbbed. But weakness was something he dared not show here, for these kings would follow him only if they thought he had the strength to lead.

  "And you, brave kings of the north, Lot and Uriens, who have fought the Picts many times. Think you that alone you can defeat this dark coalition, for the savages from the far north will be streaming south ere long, and your villages and castles lie in their path. And you, Rience, for your lands lie north and east of my own, closer in both directions to our foes. Will you stand alone against the onslaught that is coming?”

  His gaze moved down the table. "You, lords of the south, think you that if Lothian and Gwynned and Powys fall that you shall be able to stand on your own? Nay, for if we do not fight together, our enemy will surely destroy us one at a time until none remain to challenge his rule."

  Constantine paused again, resting for an instant while he allowed his guests to consider his words. "I propose, therefore, that we leave this council sworn and proclaimed to an alliance to meet the foe and drive him into the sea. Join me, my brother kings, and together we shall have the strength to gain our victory."

  Finished with his opening speech, Constantine, his legs on fire with pain, slowly lowered himself into his seat. His voice had remained true. It had wavered perhaps once or twice, but nothing that would be unduly noted. He thought, how will I get through not only this council but the war that is coming as well? Blessed be Merlin's concoction, for it has kept my accursed cough at bay. And he promises me a stronger potion when he is able to find the plants he needs. Perhaps that will be enough, for Merlin is wise and resourceful.

  His thoughts were interrupted as King Rience rose to address the council. This is one you must watch, Constantine thought silently, for he may be trouble.

  "I thank King Constantine for his hospitality.” Rience spoke loudly, his voice firm, but more brittle and less commanding than Constantine’s. “We all know his words are to be seriously considered, for he is a wise and noble man. Yet have we proof that this coalition is as dire as he tells? For many have tried to ally with the Picts, with naught to show for it other than bitter failure and murdered ambassadors.”

  Rience paused, his forehead furrowed as he looked over the table. "And if we send our armies to meet this enemy, how can we know that other foes, perhaps even some at this table, will not take advantage to settle accounts? Indeed, as our host declared, we have all had our battles among ourselves. If I commit all of my warriors, might another hold back seeking to gain advantage at home while we win the victory abroad?"

  He moved his gaze down the table as he continued his speech. "Who shall lead the armies in the field? I declare before all that I would follow Constantine, for he is a renowned warrior, and his lineage is great and noble. Yet we have heard stories that our host is ill. Pray tell, are we to follow one of Constantine's sons? Indeed, they are all noble and brave, yet have they the stature that six kings should serve under them?"

  Constantine rose abruptly, though his body was wracked with pain, and he slammed his hand on the table. "Old I am, my friend Rience, with my greener days long past, yet strength I have remaining for one more war. Pledge your forces to this battle, and I shall lead them. You have my word, which has never been broken."

  So went the council, for each king had his own fears and ambitions, and there would be much talking before any agreement could be reached. All through the day they bantered and into the night, when Constantine finally closed the deliberations for the day, bidding all to sup with him and return on the morrow.

  Uther wandered through the camps, for the council was closed to all but the kings and their advisors, and he was bored. The dawn had been clear and cool, but by midday the sun had grown warm and Uther took off his cloak. The camps were busy with everyday tasks, cookfires burning and washerwomen kneeling along the river doing their daily work. In the distance he could hear a smith banging on his anvil, likely repairing some armor or weapon damaged in the tournament the day prior.

  Uther was well known, for despite his young age he had already won great glory on the field of battle, and as he passed by the commoners they jumped aside and bowed. He greeted them with a simple nod and continued on his way, walking slowly from the river to the edge of the forest. He was about to turn around and walk back to the castle when he heard his name being called.

  "Lord Uther, greetings to you. Would you honor me by joining me for a flagon of ale?"

  Uther turned and saw a familiar face. Lord Elisedd, one of his father's most important retainers, and a substantial baron in his own right.

  "Lord Elisedd, it shall be my pleasure to join you. Indeed, the day has warmed more than I expected, and some ale would be most welcome."

  Uther walked over, and he and Elisedd locked hands on arms in a warm greeting. Elisedd called to his servants to bring ale and motioned for Uther to sit at a large table that was set before his blue and white tent.

  A servant came rushing over, with a large flagon and two silver cups. Placing the cups on the table, he filled each and then bowed. Elisedd waved him off and, leaving the pitcher on the table, the boy hastily departed.

  Uther and Elisedd talked cheerily, for though the baron was much older, they had met many times and were friends of a sort. They had taken the field together twice too, winning victories on both occasions. Elisedd was speaking of the council, for rumors were rife throughout the camps, but Uther's attention was suddenly lost to his companion, for he saw, partially covered by the flap of the great tent, the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes upon.

  Elisedd soon noticed he had lost his young friend's attention, and then he realized why. He laughed gently at his youthful friend. "Ah, I see you have noticed my daughter. Indeed, you have seen her many times, yet perhaps not for several years." The baron, an amused grin on his face, called out. "Igraine, come here, for I would have you greet Lord Uther."

  The girl Uther had been watching walked smoothly to her father's side. Indeed, this was no girl, but a woman of surpassing beauty and grace. A blue velvet gown she wore, with white lace along the collar and cuffs. Her coppery red hair glistened in the sunlight as it cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in tousled curls.

  "Lord Uther Pendragon, my daughter Igraine."

  Igraine bowed to Uther, and though she said nothing until bidden to do so, she smiled sweetly at the young prince.

  Uther returned the smile but almost found himself tongue-tied. "Igraine, it is my great pleasure to see you. I trust your journey was a pleasant one." His speech was halting, nervous…very unlike Uther Pendragon.

  She raised her head to look into his eyes. "Indeed, Lord Uther, I have enjoyed our travels and our stay here very much."

  Her voice was soft and pleasant, and Uther spoke long with her, for he found he could listen to her voice forever. Finally, he took his leave of Elisedd and his magnificent daughter, for it was long past time he returned to the castle to see if his father had need of him.

  He walk
ed a bit, and looked back to get a last glance at her. Their eyes met, for she was doing the same. Uther Pendragon, who had coolly killed three men in battle at the age of thirteen, found his heart was beating wildly as he walked up through the town to the castle.

  There he indeed found tasks that needed completing, and he set to work. There was a dispute between two lords that needed to be settled and, with his father in council and his brothers all busy, it fell to him. He listened to both, though the argument between them was tiresome and petty, and when they had finished, he made his judgment. The loser began to protest, but Uther silenced him with a cold stare, for despite his youth, all knew he was a great warrior and that his patience was short.

  After he'd finished with the feuding lords, he had to deal with some merchants, for House Pendragon was preparing for war, and Constantine was buying every manner of provision and supply. The traders were as argumentative as the lords, and Uther had to carefully review the contracts with Carwin, his father's master of the treasury. It was many hours before all was resolved and, after he was done, Uther sat on a bench in the courtyard and rubbed his aching forehead.

  By God, he thought, rather would I face a dragon in single combat than face these duties of kingship. Merlin was right, he thought grmily, more there is to wise rule than prowess in battle. Would I be able to master all of this? Perhaps it is best that I am youngest, for I shall be the sword of my house, and thus shall be my place. Let my brothers review accounts and settle petty feuds between vassals.

  Still on his mind was Igraine, for he could not banish her visage from his thoughts. While listening to the lords or haggling with the merchants, never was she more than a moment from his mind. Sitting on the bench he resolved to see her again, and after dark he slipped out of the castle and back down to the camps. He didn't want to cause any kind of commotion; he just wanted to see Igraine and have some time to talk to her. So instead of walking openly into the camp, he snuck around the rear of Igraine's tent and called to her.