Tales From Camelot Series 1: PENDRAGON

by Paul Green

  "Nothing. Never mind. I am merely a tired and exhausted woman; pay me no heed, Pelleas."

  "Do you need to rest, Regan?"

  "Soon. I shall tell you when. Now tell me about the name you have chosen for yourself - Pendragon."

  Pelleas smiled and shrugged. "Very well. If you must know the truth, one night I saw a ... flying star."

  "A flying star?"

  "Yes. A flying star. It passed slowly, lasting all through the night. It was in the shape of a ... dragon."

  "I see." Regan smiled. "So you named yourself after a flying star shaped like a dragon?"

  "At the time, I thought it was a portentous sign. To this day, I am not sure what it meant. But ... I thought it would look good as my standard."

  Regan chuckled. "You thought a dragon makes for a good symbol. I see. Yes, Uther Pendragon, you most certainly have a romantic side to you."

  Pelleas smiled. "It is more than that, Regan. Pendragon means 'Chief Dragon'. You may or may not know this, but there are Great Houses and Minor Houses. As Ambrosius and I were each a High Prince of the High King, we were each consequently given to be the head of our own Great Houses; once we were to come to adulthood, that is; after we had taken our first wife. Ambrosius was to be head of House Aurelianus, whereas I was to be head of House Pendragon."

  "I understand. So, the names you and your brother chose for yourselves, were to be the names of your Houses; including you and all of your descendants."

  "Yes. That is why I say, I thought a dragon would make a good standard for my House."

  Regan smiled. "I still say there is a romantic side to you."

  Pelleas looked down at the sleeping infant in his arms and sighed. "If this it what the romantic side of has brought forth, then so be it."

  "Have you thought of a name, yet?"

  "I have. Our discussion of names has helped inspire me."

  "I thought it might." Regan grinned.

  "You are a clever woman, wife of mine. Indeed you are."

  "So? Do not keep me in suspense, Husband! What name have you chosen for our son?"

  "I have chosen the name ... Arthur."

  "Arthur." Regan thought to herself. "That is a good, strong name."

  "Indeed. It means 'stone'. If names are any indication of a man's destiny, then I believe our son shall become a rock. And a solid foundation for our future."

  "I like this name, Husband. You have chosen well."

  Pelleas grinned. "It is either that or Morgan le Fay. How do you think he would look in a dress?"

  Regan laughed. Then she sighed and looked at Pelleas with a tender smile. "Thank you, Pelleas. You have brought me much joy and happiness. Thank you for making my life complete."

  Pelleas returned her smile as he handed the infant back to Regan. "He has your brown eyes. And your brown hair. He even has your face."

  Regan kissed the infant on the forehead as she cradled him in her arms. "Arthur Pendragon. Our rock and our future. May it be so, my son; may it be so."

  Chapter 16

  Three months later

  "PELLEAS! MEN ARE COMING!"

  Pelleas woke up with a start from his fall afternoon nap with Regan and the baby, beneath the white willow tree.

  "Ceola!? What men!?"

  "Many men, Pelleas! Alger sent me to tell you!"

  Pelleas leaped to his feet, as Regan sat up with fear in her eyes.

  "How many men, Ceola!?" Pelleas asked.

  "My husband counted eighty men! Some of them are..."

  "...Knights." Pelleas finished. "Yes, I think I know who they are. Tell Alger not to panic. Tell the villagers they shall not attack the village. No one shall be harmed; they come for me. How far away are they?"

  "Alger said three leagues."

  Pelleas nodded. "Then they shall be here within the hour."

  "Who are they, Pelleas!?" Regan asked, although she already knew the answer.

  "My brother has called for me. He is ready to march on Vortigern. He has sent a centuria of troops to see to my safe return to join him."

  Regan's eyes began to fill with tears. "I knew this day was coming. But..."

  "Reagan..." Pelleas smiled, as he tenderly placed his left hand upon her cheek.

  "I know, Husband." she replied, as she pressed his hand tighter against her face to feel his scar.

  Pelleas kissed her.

  Then Pelleas kissed the small white ribbon in her hair. For Regan had removed a small piece of her wedding dress material, which she now always wore in her long brown hair. It was her answer to the scar on Pelleas' hand; her promise that she belonged to him.

  Pelleas then knelt down upon the blanket beside his still sleeping son. He then placed his scarred hand upon the side of the child's face. "I make the same vow for you, son. I shall return for you. I shall return for you both."

  Pelleas then rose to his feet and faced Regan. "I need you to do something for me, Regan; before the soldiers get here."

  "Anything, Husband." Regan wept.

  "I need you to be strong ... and I need you to hide."

  "H-h-hide?"

  "I do not know who these eighty men shall be. My brother trusts them, but I do not know them. Ambrosius has drawn men from every region. I do not know, but what some of them may be from Cornwall. It is best for you to remain out of sight until after they leave."

  "I understand, Husband."

  Pelleas then turned to Ceola. "I need you to make sure my wife and son remain hidden."

  Ceola bowed to him. "I understand, Prince Uther. The child must be beyond hearing distance, should the child cry. We shall leave the village and remain in the forest until the soldiers are gone."

  "Ceola?" Uther smiled at her, shaking his head. "Do not ever ... bow to me again. It is I who should bow to you. We owe you so much. We owe you everything. Thank you for everything you and Alger have done for us. I shall not forget your kindness."

  "Eh. I am nothing but an old woman."

  "You are not old, Ceola." Pelleas grinned. "You are still feisty and you still have many years ahead of you."

  Ceola looked at Pelleas, seriously and intently. "Alger and I shall watch over your wife and child, Pelleas. We give you our oath. You, however, I would hear your oath that you shall watch over yourself."

  "I am not a foolhardy man, Ceola. I am skilled with the sword and I shall not take unnecessary risks. I know I have a family that awaits me. You have my oath; I shall return."

  "You are a fool if you do not think war changes a man, Pelleas." Ceola said in warning. "Mark my words, there is more at risk than only your body."

  Pelleas nodded. "I hear your words, Ceola. Thank you for your counsel."

  "You are young, Pelleas. You would do well to do more than hear my words."

  Pelleas grinned at her. "See? Did I not say you were feisty? Thank you, Ceola; thank you for your counsel."

  Ceola sighed and Pelleas turned back towards Regan. "Come, I shall help you pack supplies and we shall say our goodbyes."

  Regan nodded as she wiped the tears from her eyes and picked up the baby. "I shall be strong for you, Husband. I shall save my tears for after you leave."

  Pelleas smiled at her and kissed her, and once more kissed the white ribbon in her hair. And then along with Ceola they went into the small village house to pack and to prepare to go their separate paths.

  Chapter 17

  A short time later, the centuria of eighty men led by three Knights arrived in the village. Pelleas along with Alger greeted them, along with nearly all of the two hundred villagers.

  Pelleas recognized the head Knight, but the other two he didn't know. The head Knight was a giant bear of a man, with long, dark brown braided hair and a long moustache. He was powerfully built, and Pelleas remembered from childhood that the large Knight stood head and shoulders above even the tallest of other men. And although he was extremely intimidating, Pelleas knew him well and was pleased to see him.

  "Hello, Bors." Pelleas grinned. "Fancy meeting you
here."

  Bors looked at Pelleas in surprise. "Prince Uther!? Is that you!?"

  "Surely you recognize the only man who has ever bested you with a sword?"

  Bors grinned. "It was only once, my Prince; and only because I was drunken."

  "You still hold to that excuse?" Pelleas chuckled.

  Bors then clapped his fist to his massive armored and chest and bowed his head. The other Knights and the rest of the soldiers immediately did likewise. "My liege; Sir Bors at your service. How would you command us?"

  "It is good to see you again, Bors. The years have been good to you. Tell your men to be at ease."

  Bors looked at his second in command and nodded. The man in turned then signaled for the rest of the men to dismount. After Bors himself dismounted, he walked up to Pelleas and bent down upon one knee, and once more clapped his fist to his chest. Pelleas tapped the giant man on the shoulder to give him permission to rise.

  "Report, Sir Knight."

  Bors rose to his feet, towering over Pelleas. Then he looked at Alger and the rest of the villagers.

  "You may speak freely, Bors. These are friends. I have lived among them for a time. There are no warriors nor spies among them. They are peaceful and care not for matters of war."

  Bors seemed reluctant and uncomfortable with revealing crucial information in a public setting.

  Pelleas nodded in understanding. "Very well. Report in general, but give no details. We shall speak more in private."

  "Of course, my liege; as you command. Prince Ambrosius has completed assembling his forces. We march in forty days. He requests you to join him at his camp to make final preparations."

  "I am prepared to go, straight away, Bors. Without revealing direction, how far to my brother's camp?"

  "We have traveled a fortnight, my liege; with little rest."

  "Two weeks. Your men must be weary. Have them set up camp and we shall leave at dawn."

  Once more Bors clapped his fist to his chest. "As you wish, my liege."

  "Oh, and Bors?" Pelleas said, looked at Alger and the rest of the villagers. "As I have said, these are friends. I expect your men to treat them with the highest regard and respect."

  "My liege, they are but peasants!"

  "They are ... my friends. You shall obey me in this, Sir Bors. I shall have the head of any man who causes them harm. Even...", then Pelleas nodded at the two accompanying Knights.

  Bors turned and looked at the two Knights. "You heard the words of High Prince Uther Pendragon."

  Both the two Knights clapped their fists to their chest and bowed their heads.

  Bors then looked back at Pelleas. "It shall be as you say, my liege. No harm shall come to these ... peasants."

  Pelleas then looked at the two Knights. "And keep the men away from the women."

  The two Knights looked at Pelleas in surprise.

  "I do not jest. I command you as High Prince, let no man lay a hand upon any women in this village. Do you understand?"

  And once again the two Knights clapped their fists to their chests."

  Bors was now looking curiously at Pelleas.

  "You have something to say, Sir Bors?" Pelleas asked. "You may speak freely."

  "If it please my liege, I should prefer to await until we may speak in private."

  "Very well. Alger? May we speak in your house?"

  "Of course, Prince Uther." Alger said, with a bow. "My house is your house."

  Pelleas patted Alger on the shoulder and then motioned Bors to follow him.

  *** *** ***

  "You have changed." noted Bors.

  Bors and Pelleas had just sat down at Alger's eating table, upon which sat two cups of water and a loaf of bread.

  "I apologize, Bors; but there is no ale in this village. Water is all I can offer you."

  "You would serve ... me?"

  "Bors, you and have I have known each other since we were children. We entered Knight training together when we were seven years of age. There is no reason to not show each other common courtesy. Please; speak what is on your mind."

  "Very well. The men were greatly looking forward to having the women. It has been a long trip and they have not had a woman in some time. Yet you deny them. Especially the Knights! If anyone should have these peasant women it ought to be the Knights! They deserve it! That is the way of things! How can you deny them the women!? It is their right as Knights!"

  "They are my friends."

  "ALL of them!? Surely you can spare some of the women! I would even be willing to sacrifice for my men. I could get by with only two."

  "No, Bors; I do not mean the women are all mine. I mean ... they are friends. Truly."

  "What words do you speak!? And why do you live among ... peasants!?"

  "Why not?"

  "And why do you ... care ... for peasants?"

  "I have been on my own for five years, Bors. I have learned much since my time away from the throne."

  "I see." Bors replied, looking around at the tiny and meager shack. "You say this 'house' belongs to the old man?"

  "It does. Why do you ask?"

  "I see signs of ... women. And I smell ... the smells of a nursery."

  "The wife of Alger sometimes takes in infants. That is all."

  "You live here?"

  "I ... have a camp not far from the village."

  "Ah."

  Pelleas grinned at Bors. "Surely, you did not think..."

  "No, my liege!"

  "I mean, really. Me? A High Prince and a son of High King Constans? With a ... peasant!? Surely, you jest."

  "Surely not, my liege!"

  "Good. Now that that is out of the way, how is Ambrosius?"

  "He is strong." Bors proudly announced. "All the troops revere him, as do all of the Knights. He shall make for a great king and a great ruler."

  "I know he will." Pelleas smiled. "Ambrosius was always destined for great things."

  "Indeed, he is."

  "You have been with my brother for all of these past five years. You think very highly of him."

  "Prince Ambrosius is a great man."

  "You are very loyal to my brother, Bors. I can see that. I am pleased my brother has had someone like you at his side."

  "He has named me Captain of the Knights." Bors said, beaming with pride.

  "Good! Congratulations; you deserve it. I always knew you were destined to become a great Knight. Any man who could best me..." Pelleas teased.

  "Thank you, my liege."

  "Bors, before we get into details, there is one matter I wish to get out on the table."

  "Of course, my liege."

  "I agree with you. My brother shall make for a great king and a great ruler. I have always known that, even since we were small. Bors, I have no design upon my brother's rightful place upon the throne. I have no desire to be king. I would not make a good king. I am too..."

  "...soft." Bors finished.

  Pelleas raised his eyebrow. "I was going to say ... amenable."

  "Forgive me, my liege; I had only meant..."

  "I know what you meant, Bors. You respect strength. And you respect power and authority and superiority. Just as you should. We both know I am not such a man. I am quite content to have my brother sit upon the throne. I have no desire to rule; I never have."

  Bors looked at Pelleas for a very long time. Finally he nodded. "I see you speak the truth. Thank you for telling me. This sets my mind at ease."

  "You have seen much treachery, Bors. I know it has not been an easy five years for you."

  "I have been responsible for determining who is loyal and who is not."

  "I know this. And you have personally taken care of those suspected to be traitors and spies. Ambrosius has told me of this in his letters. He trusts you, implicitly. And I wish to thank you, personally, for watching out for my brother. He could not have a better man, watching his back. Like my brother, I also hold you in high regard."

  "Thank you, my liege. You do me great
honor."

  "So tell me, Bors. Truthfully. Man to man, soldier to soldier; can we win? Can we defeat Vortigern?"

  Bors grinned. "We have already all but won, my liege."

  "What!?"

  "We march upon Vortigern in forty days, that is true. But already, two-thirds of Vortigern's own army are our own men."

  "WHAT!?"

  "It was your brother's conception from the very beginning. For five years we have been carefully supplanting his own troops with those loyal to Ambrosius."

  "Really!?" Pelleas exclaimed, rising to his feet in surprise. He walked over the nearby window and looked out, thinking to himself for a moment. Then he turned back around and looked at Bors. "REALLY!?"

  "Indeed. We have men not only filling the ranks of Vortigern's own troops, but we have spies positioned all throughout his palace. Even ... his own Concubines."

  Pelleas' eyes widened in surprise.

  Bors winked at Pelleas. "In truth, all of Vortigern's Concubines are loyal to your brother. They were once quite fond of him, you know."

  Pelleas chuckled. "Yes, and I recall he was quite fond of my father's Concubines. Let me guess ... you learned a lot from them."

  "In truth, they have been our greatest source of information."

  "Vortigern visits them often, I take it?"

  "And it is among his Concubines where he often likes to boast of his plans and brag of his accomplishments."

  Pelleas shook his head, marveling at his brother. "I see my brother has been busy these past five years. He always was a brilliant strategist."

  Bors nodded. "There shall still be a battle, of course. But as I have said..."

  "...it is all but won. Yes, I heard you." Pelleas then sat back down at the table and smiled at Bors. "Once again proving, my brother was meant to be king. This is going to be easier than I had thought."

  "He had named you as his General, you know." Bors said.

  "WHAT!?"

  "Commander General of the Knights and the Armed Forces."

  "WHY!?"

  "You are a High Prince. Your brother is to be High King. You are Second in Command. This is your rightful place, Prince Uther."

  "Bors, I have been out the picture for five years! I cannot be the Commander General!"