Pendragon and the Traitor's Menace

by C J Brown

  “Come with me, my lord, we have much to talk about,” she whispered. Arthur was certain something had happened, but he was not aware of what it was. He entered the large guest hall behind the princess.

  “What is the matter? What has happened? I left you yesterday rosy-cheeked and full of smiles. But you look tired and vexed a day later.”

  “I haven’t had a wink of sleep. We just returned from Dornoch.”

  “What’s in Dornoch?” Arthur asked as she studied his face.

  She decided he was telling the truth. His face looked innocent enough. She realized he had no awareness of what had happened at Dornoch and decided to explain it to him.

  “Your brother told us a lot of what you have not,” she began.

  “My brother?” Arthur said, suddenly feeling his chest tighten and his head pound.

  “Mehmet, your older brother. Why did you not tell us about him and that he was heir to the Pendragon crest?” she pressed.

  Arthur leaned back on the stack of fur and inhaled deeply. His thoughts swirled on how he could possibly put all that had happened in words without looking like a liar or a cheat. He decided to begin, finally, with the story at the point where he and his men had ridden to Rome to rescue his father and end it with what had transpired that morning.

  “You have no one now?” Olivie asked.

  “I have my mother, and that is all. For the first time in my life, I have no army, no family, no country, and no purpose. I don’t even have a name. All this after Mehmet came into our lives. He arrived out of the blue. It is something I never understood. We came to this island to seek refuge. No one but the Huns knew we had crossed the Narrow Sea. The Romans were not on our trail. We first thought that he came from one of the other tribes or from the north.”

  “No, he is not from the north, nor is he from one of the tribes in the south. You’ve seen the lowlanders. Your brother looks nothing like them. He could have only come from the continent.”

  Arthur frowned, remembering a small detail. “The day he arrived, the captain of the ship that trailed us from Paris was found dead. If Mehmet was responsible for that, then it would make sense. The captain of the ship would have been able to recognize him. That’s why he was killed.”

  Olivie pondered for a moment. “He did know the best way to destabilize the Hun army.”

  “What Hun army? What are you talking about?”

  It was Olivie’s turn to elaborate on the matters that had taken place over the last twenty-four hours.

  “How did he know to kill the commander to debilitate the soldiers?” Arthur asked.

  “But it’s true. My father now thinks he is a hero.”

  Arthur bowed his head in thought. “Where are they now?”

  “He managed to kill about two hundred Hun before reaching the commander in the back,” she said.

  “In the back?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Hun commanders are in the front unless they lead the expendables. Then the commander is in the rear. The expendables are prisoners and men the Huns kidnap from the towns they loot. These unfortunates are forced to fight and are usually the front line of the force. The actual Hun army is in the rear,” Arthur said, having fought them before. He paused a moment before continuing.

  “The question is, then, how did Mehmet know this was the expendables? The expendables have never been in battle alone. Never. They always lead the regular Hun army. Even if he knew the Huns were coming, he could not have guessed that the regular Hun army were not in the rear. It was all a show for your father. To get in his good graces.”

  Neither said anything. Then Arthur responded to his own question.

  “I don’t know. I never knew this man until a few days ago. But I am suspecting that he is a Hun.”

  “Then we have to warn my father. The king has begun to place trust in him.”

  “We will warn him in the morning. Let him have his rest. Where are Mehmet and the prisoners?”

  “The returned to Inver Ridge,” she answered.

  “We must have crossed paths. How many of them?”

  Olivie pondered for a moment. “More than nine thousand,” she eventually answered.

  “Uther and Mehmet now have nine thousand men. All expendables,” Arthur surmised. “What else happened? Where are all the ships they arrived in?”

  “Mehmet kept twenty-five of them and gave my father ten ships in return for lending him three hundred men. He placed a dozen Frank sailors on a rowboat, gave them the head of the Hun commander, and told them to return it to Attila. He also gave them a message to pass on.”

  “What was the message?”

  “I am Arthur,” she said. “That was the message.”

  At first, neither could understand the meaning of the message.

  “Are you certain the sailors were Franks?” Arthur asked, realizing that the developments in Paris must have gone further than he had realized.

  “Yes. Magi was certain.”

  “That means the Huns have conquered Paris,” Arthur deduced.

  “It would seem so,” Olivie replied, suddenly realizing what she had not earlier. “The Franks had a more powerful military than we do, and the Huns conquered them. What will they do to us?”

  Arthur knew the answer to that question. It was simple. If all the tribes came together and fought, there would be a good chance they would be able to keep the Huns away. But it was too soon to suggest such a union. Uniting the kingdoms could not be approached so casually and in such situations. It required a different kind of opportunity, Arthur thought.

  “What I do not understand is how he knew to attack them in Dornoch,” Arthur suddenly commented, shifting from the tempo of the conversation.

  “He had traveled to the continent, he told us. As soon as he found out the news of the attack, he sought an audience with my father and told us.”

  “When was he on the continent?”

  “I don’t know. He’s your brother,” Olivie replied, half joking.

  “How does one come across information like that? Unless one knows a commander. I am certain of it, he is Hun, and if so, Uther’s life will be in danger. If not now, in the near future.”

  ***

  The two continued to talk late into the night. The conversation was not always about soldiers and war, but also about each other. Arthur told her about his younger days, and she told him about hers. As the night advanced, so did their closeness. By morning, when the sun illuminated the azure sky and the violet rugs in her chambers, they awoke to the sound of the city coming to life. It was the first time a man had been next to her as she woke up in her chambers, and a smile grew on her face as she was grateful that the man was Arthur. Olivie had felt a connection that she could not explain from the moment she saw him through the slit in her helmet. Emotions and feelings had stirred in her that she did not know she had.

  Arthur, having been awake for the most part of a week, slept soundly on her bed, nestled in her pillows and linens. His face carried the epitome of peace and tranquility, as though she was watching the manifestation of inevitability. She couldn’t help but feel as though being next to Arthur gave her the strength to do anything, knowing that the outcome would be destined.

  As she watched destiny lie beside her, she reached over, and in an uncontrollable moment of stirring in her, she edged closer to his face and took in his breath. It was an intimate moment that Olivie had never felt the need to experience with anyone else before. She sensed a vision of doom.

  As instinctively as she had approached him, she recoiled. In place of peace, she felt pain. In place of certainty, horror. Something bad was going to happen, and she was powerless to stop it. She was even powerless to know what it was. All she felt was a powerful and persistent prognostication of doom.

  Amidst the pain, she reached over and embraced him with both a
rms, trying desperately to hold back the tears of fear and the quiver of sadness, but she failed miserably, as Arthur opened his eyes to find Olivie holding him and sobbing.

  “What happened? What’s the matter?” he asked as he returned the embrace and enveloped her with his large, bare arms.

  It was not easy for Olivie to explain or describe what she had just felt.

  “A woman knows certain things, and something rotten exists before us,” she replied.

  Kissing her gently, for the first time, Arthur stroked her hair and assured her, “Whatever it is that lies before us, we will vanquish it together.” His soothing voice and calming demeanor put her at ease, and in time the vibes of destiny settled to the peace of the moment.

  ***

  The couple spent the next three days talking, lying in each other’s embraces, and exploring the various parts of the city. The plan to see the king had evaporated, as he had traveled without notice to one of the northern ports to inspect the ships that were being built. He was set to return later in the week. In the meantime, Arthur and Olivie tasted companionship for the first time in both their lives. During the times she had to attend to her duties, Arthur became friends with Magi Ro Hul, who took had taken a liking to him from the first time he saw how Olivie glared into his eyes. Magi had always had a soft spot for the princess, like a dear uncle has over his niece.

  “Why did your father disown you, Arthur?” Magi asked. It was Arthur’s fourth day, and Olivie had left to attend to some official duties in her father’s absence.

  “It’s complicated, Magi. I am not sure either. Uther and I have been as close as a father and son could be for as long as I can remember. But I suspect that it is because I am the son born of a woman he did not love, whereas Mehmet, or whoever he is, was the son born of the women he loved.”

  “That would make senses, Arthur. But you have to understand that he does not owe you for being his father, but you owe him, even if he disowns you, for being his son. It is a debt you will never be able to repay.”

  “You are wiser than the size of your arms suggests,” Arthur replied in jest. “But your point is well taken. You are correct. I do owe him for my existence, and I shall always honor him in my own way, but just not outwardly and not in a way to insult him.”

  “You are a good man, Arthur, and that is the reason my Princess Olivie likes you. Will you take care of her as she deserves to be cared for?”

  “I intend to, Magi. I would like to form a union with her in the tradition of Caledonia as soon as she will have me.”

  “That is good news. But you will have to convince His Grace that your reason for marrying her is not so that you can take over this kingdom,” he said stretching his arms to describe the length and breadth of the Highlander’s domain.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “Know what?” Arthur asked, shocked at what he was hearing.

  “Since she is a woman, our custom prevents her from becoming the ruler. Instead, her husband will become king and convert his name to Fergus. You will be known as King Arthur Fergus,” he said, laughing at the notion of such a small man being called Fergus. The line of Fergus had been dominated by men of large proportions. In comparison, the tall and muscular Arthur was puny.

  “I am afraid, I cannot do that,” Arthur replied, now sullen and weighed with burden. “I choose to unite with Olivie, not become king of a land and people I do not know. There are cultures and norms that I am not familiar with, and a king is supposed to be the custodian of all those values. I am not the right man to be king. But tell me, good friend, is it possible that for me to unite with Olivie, but decline the throne?”

  “Does Olivie know of your view on this?” Magi asked, perplexed by Arthur’s answer.

  “No. We have not spoken of this. I was hoping to seek the king’s permission, once he returns, to take Olivie to Demetia and to meet my mother. I would ask her to unite with me after she has had a chance to meet my mother.”

  “Well, the king returns tomorrow. You can seek his permission then. I don’t see any reason for him to decline.”

  A smile emerged from Arthur’s heart and projected from his lips.

  “What are the two of you talking about?” said a sweet, familiar voice from behind. The sight of Olivie approaching brightened both men’s faces as they rose to greet the princess and invited her to join the table. After more conversation, more ale, and more laughter, the time had come for Magi to take his leave and prepare for the arrival of the king.

  “A messenger arrived earlier,” Olivie announced. “Father has an important announcement to make when he arrives tomorrow. His entourage will arrive before noon, and the townspeople are to be gathered at the square. He will be making the announcement himself.”

  “What is it about?” Magi asked.

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Olivie answered. “The messenger would not say, except to hint that it had to do with a celebration of sorts for the entire town.”

  “That’s good, then,” Magi answered, as he got up to leave the couple. “More reason to vanquish the new stock of ale in the cellar.”

  12

  The Festival

  As the townsfolk gathered, Olivie escorted Arthur to the royal gallery. The entire town had already come to know the relationship that the two were in. They were expected to be betrothed in the very near future, and Arthur was wholeheartedly accepted by the locals.

  For Arthur, it was starting to feel like home. He began to like the simple life and gained an understanding of what it meant to the multitudes of people to go about their daily life under the protection of a king. All this while, as heir to the throne and general of armies, he had never seen the most obvious part of his responsibilities, the people.

  The week he had spent in Pittentrail, he spent falling in love with a town, its people, and the life it all meant.

  As the drums rolled, the lead horses of the entourage entered the gates and made their way up to the base of the royal stand. Gradually, more horses and more men piled in. The mood was joyous, and the air was festive. The gods seemed to have blessed this occasion by allowing a fair-weather day with clear blue skies and a mild sun on everyone’s faces.

  From the elevation where they stood, they could not see the king yet, but they surmised that he had appeared through the gates, since the crowds had started to cheer and send colored flour into the air. Colored beans and petals of flowers were also released from the towers as the king strode in, in regal fashion. The sounds of the crowds grew louder. Olivie was laughing like a little girl, and Arthur felt his heart fill with joy as he watched the woman he would unite with envelope the happiness that filled the town. Then, all of a sudden, her face grew sullen.

  The crowds still cheered, but the scene began to turn bizarre as Arthur turned to see the cause of change in her countenance. In the distance, in front of the king’s chariot, were Uther and Mehmet. The crowds had no idea who the two were, but the cheers were meant for anyone and everyone in that procession.

  Arthur turned cold. Seeing Uther in the line of the procession told of unimaginable possibilities. It was made worse by the fact that Mehmet was with them, and they all looked strangely jubilant.

  “What does this mean?” Olivie asked.

  “On its own, it means a lot, but added to the fact that the messenger refused to tell you the cause for celebration, even though it seems he already knew, suggests that all this has something to do with us. I just don’t know how, what, or why.”

  “I am afraid you are right,” Olivie said.

  A hand fell on Arthur’s shoulder as the two were in conversation. Arthur, turned to see a sullen Magi Ro Hul.

  “What vexes you, Magi?”

  “I just found out. These are bad tidings. My advice is that the two of you leave before the pronouncement.”

  “Pronouncement of
what?” Olivie asked. Her voice rose two octaves higher, reflecting the urgency of the hour.

  Before Magi could answer, Arthur did. “Whatever it is, I will not run. Let them do their worst.”

  Olivie turned to look at him, and while it was tempting to flee, Arthur’s stand was the right one. Whatever it was, they would not run. As the decision defined the moment, a royal guard approached Olivie and instructed her to join her father on the platform.

  She smiled and nodded as though she was not concerned or perturbed by the possibilities. Rising to the platform, she greeted her father and bowed to the two guests in typical Highlander fashion, then took her seat.

  The Prime Minister rose to greet the crowd, then introduced the king to with great fanfare. Trumpets blared and drums were beaten for the entire duration that it took the monarch to make his way to the center of the stage and address the crowd.

  “My fellow Highlanders of Pittentrail, rejoice with me on this glorious day. For we have new friends in Britannia, and they reside in the neighboring lands of Inver. They are known as the Tribe of the Five Dragons, and they have agreed to be our ally and live happily along our southern border,” King Fergus screamed so that everyone gathered could hear.

  Arthur listened carefully to the king. So far, the news was not dire. It was to be expected. Now that the Pendragon clan was in possession of an army of almost ten thousand strong, they were now worthy of being called an ally. The faster King Fergus formed the alliance, the sooner they would be able to dictate their terms to the rest of the lowlanders.

  “This is not so bad,” Olivie thought as she wondered what Magi meant when he came to warn them. She turned to find Arthur’s face in the crowd and saw him standing where she left him. Magi stood by him, his face still as grim as when he came with the news.

  The king continued to heap praise over on the battle skills of Mehmet and credited Uther for raising a fine son and heir. Arthur was growing more perplexed.

  The crowds continued to cheer at each revelation the king made, but the crowd was in absolute chaos when he asked his daughter to join him.