by Paul Green
For whatever reason, Ambrosius thought it might be fun and fitting to have two of Vortigern's own personal Concubines standing before him; from whom they had learned many of Vortigern's secrets. Ambrosius intended to taunt Vortigern, demonstrating that Vortigern never really had anyone loyal to him during his entire five year reign. Ambrosius' primary objective that day, was humiliation.
Uther was wearing the colors of House Pendragon, red and black. Ambrosius was wearing the colors of House Aurelianus, gold and black. And as the first rays of sunlight streamed in through the upper windows of the throne room and reflected off of the gold of his robes and shined upon his golden blond hair, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that a new Golden Age was about to dawn upon the kingdom; an age of hope and wealth and prosperity and power.
Finally, Ambrosius gave the command to bring forth the prisoner.
It took awhile for him to arrive at the throne room, after being slowly led in chains through the crowd and being pelted by tomatoes and vegetables and ... actually ... many other interesting things of creative and somewhat revolting ingenuity.
By the time Vortigern arrived at the doors of the throne room, both Ambrosius and Uther began having second thoughts about allowing him inside after seeing him. Ambrosius leaned over and whispered to Uther. "I actually feel sorry for whoever has to clean up in here, afterwards."
Uther grinned and whispered back, "I feel sorry for the two guards who brought him. They look almost as bad as Vortigern."
Ambrosius laughed, and then put his arms around the two Concubines, one with blonde hair and one dark-haired, as they both kissed him on the cheek. "Remember him, girls?"
The Concubine who was blonde ran her hand across his lips. "Our thoughts were always and only for you, M'Lord."
"You both did well." Ambrosius smiled. "All of you did. And tonight, I shall come in to you and reward you all."
The Concubine who was dark-haired purred in his ear. "We shall await your arrival with anticipation, M'Lord."
Ambrosius grinned as he nodded permission for Vortigern to be brought forth.
Though Vortigern was ragged and covered in filth, somehow he managed to discover some backbone. Instead of cowering, he kept his head held high as he was led in chains through the booing and spitting and name-calling crowd of seventy warriors.
Finally, Vortigern stood before the two sons he had betrayed five years earlier by murdering their parents and seizing their throne. Vortigern looked at his two personal Concubines on either side of Ambrosius who had betrayed him. Then he looked at the hate-filled eyes of Uther, who was using every measure of control not to rush over and take off Vortigern's head. Then Vortigern looked at Ambrosius, who was smiling at him in victory.
Then he looked back at the two Concubines.
And nodded.
Suddenly a painful gasp came forward from Ambrosius' lips, as the Concubine with blonde hair plunged a poisoned dagger into his chest.
By the time Uther spun his head around, it was too late.
The blonde Concubine then rammed the dagger even further into his heart and twisted it. "This is for Vortigern." she whispered in his ear. "I await your arrival with anticipation, M'Lord. In Hell."
In an blinding flash, Bors whirled around with his sword and instantly severed her head, while the other dark-haired Concubine looked on in horror; for she had not been a part of it.
But it didn't matter. For Uther spun around and took her head off, next.
Bors and Uther both then rushed Vortigern and reached him almost simultaneously; but Uther was faster. And while Vortigern was cackling with delight, his head left his body flying high into the air, still with a wide grin on his face.
It all happened very fast. By the time Uther and Bors both spun around and raced back towards Ambrosius, he was still standing, though his legs had begun to give out from under him.
Uther caught him as he fell. He hadn't even had time for tears to form when the light began fading from his brother's eyes.
"Ambrosius, no!!" Uther pleaded.
But the deadly poison was actually killing him faster than the knife in his heart; and his heart finally stopped.
"No, Ambrosius! Do not leave me!"
Uther was still standing, holding his dying brother in his arms, but Ambrosius had but a few moments left.
"Please, brother! Do not leave me alone!"
Ambrosius only managed to struggle out a few words.
"Red and black are the colors now, little brother."
"No, Ambrosius! Please!"
"Be strong, Uther. And trust ... no one."
"AMBROSIUS!!!"
But Ambrosius couldn't hear. For Ambrosius was dead.
*** *** ***
As Uther collapsed to his knees, weeping with his brother in his arms, the entire assembly was in stunned shock.
Even Bors couldn't believe what had just happened. His instantaneous reaction as a warrior was the only reason he had reacted; for his mind was so numbed with horror at the loss of High Prince Ambrosius of House Aurelianus, he couldn't even think straight.
Then ... after a long period of stunned silence, the entire throne room exploded with shrieks and screams as all seventy warriors began to rush their great and beloved fallen leader in alarm as a mighty throng.
Suddenly, Uther leaped to his feet with his sword drawn threateningly, daring anyone to approach.
Finally Bors shook his head to clear himself and shouted "STAY BACK!!!"
And everyone stopped in their tracks.
"WHERE ARE THEY!!?" Uther shouted, as his face began turning red in rage.
"WHERE ARE WHO!?" Bors shouted back.
"THOSE WHORES!!? WHERE ARE THEY!!?"
Bors hadn't been prepared for that response, either. He began shaking his head. "I ... I ... I ..."
"KILL THEM!!!" Uther raged. "FIND THEM AND KILL THEM ALL!!!"
"BUT..."
Then Uther spun around and began hacking apart the dead bodies of the two Concubines; one of whom had been innocent. He continued hacking and hacking and hacking and hacking...
"KILL THEM ALL!!!" he shrieked.
Bors couldn't believe what he was hearing; for he suspected that most, if not all of the Concubines were innocent. But ... the new High King had just given him an order. And obey orders is what Knights do. Bors turned his great head towards his seventy men and made a slicing motion across his neck.
And immediately all seventy men clapped their fists to their chests and took off running in search of the Royal Concubines.
Within minutes, the screaming started, echoing throughout the empty halls of the castle fortress. And soon, 120 women had been slaughtered at the hands of the Knights.
As Bors watched Uther kneel beside his brother's body weeping, it would be the screams of the women, that would echo in Bors' mind for the rest of his life.
Chapter 22
Seven days later
"ALL HAIL, HIGH KING UTHER PENDRAGON!!!"
Upon the day that was to have been among the brightest days of his life, Uther's coronation was among his darkest of days.
The weather was as dark and stormy as his mood. In fact, Uther's mood had been dark and stormy the entire week. He had only slept once in the past seven days, and only because he had become drunk. His eyes were dark and bloodshot with bags underneath, and no one dared approach him unless they were asked. Even Bors knew enough to keep his distance.
All week long, Uther had kept completely to himself. Besides this day of coronation, the only other time he had been with others was during the middle of the week at his brother's funeral. The body of Ambrosius Aurelianus had been burned atop a massive funeral pyre, seven stories high; high enough for all seventy thousand troops to see, as well as all of the people who had come out to honor the great hero who had freed the realm from Vortigern's cruel and unpleasant reign. Everyone was there from near and far; including kings and nobles from nearby kingdoms.
Uther had been the one to personally light
the torch and set the pyre aflame.
Other than that day, Uther had kept to himself, alone and isolated in his old room which he once had as a child. He refused to visit Ambrosius' room nor did he have any intention of staying in the room of his parents, the previous ruling High King and Queen.
Bors and a handful of others made a few attempts to speak to him, but their knock on his door were always answered with a crash of pottery or furniture being flung against the door.
Finally, they gave up.
Nor did Uther eat during that entire week. Though food was constantly being left at his door, he never touched it.
No one knew if Uther had intended to go forward with the coronation or not. But since he refused to speak to anyone, everyone was afraid to make any kind of decision, for such was not theirs to make. Thus ... they let the matter lie as it was ... and didn't dare change a thing. The scheduled coronation remained in place ... and whether or not Uther would show up was anyone's guess.
It was a deep and intense time of mourning for Uther; which was why he wished to be alone. In truth, Uther never had any intention of 'shirking his responsibility'. He knew he was to be the new High King - even though he loathed the whole idea. He even tried saying out loud in his room "King Uther" - but bile always came to his mouth and he could never manage to get the words out. But he would never ... ever ... disgrace his parents, or his brother, by not taking the responsibility that had been thrust unwanted upon his shoulders.
Uther would be the new High King. Even though he would despise every minute of it.
He would make whatever royal decisions needed to be made; even though he would care nothing for the decisions.
And he would rule over the people; even though he cared nothing for ruling over them.
It was to everyone's great surprise, when at the break of dawn on the morning of his coronation, that Uther finally stepped out of his room, fully dressed in the now-official royal colors of House Pendragon, red and black. He wore the kingly robes, not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice; for such was his duty.
During the past week, there was only one other place where his mind would sometimes wander off to. And that was to a distant peasant village of refugees, where his wife and son awaited his return. There was no doubt he would return for them. But he didn't know when. Not because he didn't desperately want to see them again and to hold his wife once more in his arms and to once more hold his infant son. But Uther didn't know ... or understand ... what kind of world he would be bringing them back to. He didn't trust that the fortress was safe, for there could be hidden assassins around every corner.
Trust no one.
His own father and mother had been killed by a trusted advisor name Vortigern. And if even a lowly Concubine could murder the Crown Prince - his own brother - standing right beside him - how could he ever consider bringing Regan and Arthur into the castle? And missing them greatly, added yet another terrible and heavy weight upon his grieving heart.
Trust no one.
But the day of his coronation had come. And though Uther had no wish or desire to accept the crown, he knew his duty.
If he had been given a preference, he had almost been hoping in a way that his brother would have actually banished him upon finding out about Regan and the baby. For Uther had truly come to love the peace and simplicity of living in the peasant village. And he would have been happy and content to have remained there as Pelleas; the 'Fisher King'; for all the days of his life.
Instead, this day he was to be crowned as the High King of the entire nation; complete with all of its troubles and burdens and never-ending responsibilities that went along with it.
And Uther was loathing this dark day of days.
*** *** ***
He had insisted the coronation to be as brief as possible. He even 'threatened' the Master Scribe with his head to keep it short; though he didn't really mean it.
But the scribe didn't know that.
And so ... the Master Scribe heralded the one and only, single announcement as he placed the Crown of the High King upon Uther's head, upon an outdoor stage hastily erected during the past week.
The entire assembly of over 100,000 people exploded into cheering.
Uther sat upon his outdoor throne chair with his fists clenched and a dark scowl upon his face.
No one nearby dared speak to him directly.
Finally ... while the crowd continued cheering, High King Uther Pendragon rose to his feet. And when he did so, the entire assembly began to grow quiet, to hear their new High King's first words.
Uther looked out over the large assembly, scanning the massive gathering from end to end.
Then ... he turned around.
And walked away.
*** *** ***
People never turned out in large numbers for an assembly again. For a very long time.
~ Descent ~
Chapter 23
Two months later
"Your majesty, this really is of the utmost importance."
"Who are you, again?"
"I am your Chief Advisor."
"No, I mean, what is your name?"
"My ... name, your Majesty?"
"Did your mother not consider you worthy of a name?"
"Of course, your majesty! My name is ... uh ... Alfred."
Bors was standing near Uther, as he always did while audience was in session; each and every day for ten whole minutes. It was all Uther could stomach, of having to listen to other people's problems.
"Okay, Alfred." Uther replied. "So you are my Chief Advisor. I did not even know until last week that I had ... advisors."
"As passed down from your predecessor, Your Majesty. And from your father, before him. And your father, before him."
"So I understand. This is the first time I have heard from my ... advisors. Very well, Alfred. Advise me."
Alfred gulped. "Uh ... your Majesty ... it is very important..."
Uther arched his eyebrow. "Do you now seek to dictate to me my priorities?"
"NO SIRE! NEVER!"
"Good. Please. Continue advising me, Alfred."
GULP. "Uh ... your Majesty ... it should be ... I mean ... you may wish to consider ... the possibility of the importance..."
"Hurry up, Alfred. Your time is nearly up and my patience grows thin."
"Of course, your Majesty! Uh ... what you may wish to consider as being important ... is ... uh ... well ... your Majesty, if something were to happen ... to you, that is ... AND GOD FORBID!"
Uther raised his eyebrow.
As did Bors.
"...I only mean to say, your Majesty ... you are the last of the line! You should have an heir! Your first order of priority should be taking a wife! Uh ... that is ... if you ... think that is important ... that is ... because I am not suggesting..."
Uther looked at Alfred with a calm.
A deadly calm.
Alfred gulped again.
Bors began looking around for someone to carry Alfred's body away.
"Alfred?" Uther replied, coldly. "Did I hear you right? Did my Chief Advisor ... just advise me ... that I need to take a wife?"
GULP!
Alfred was no longer capable of answering.
Uther slowly rose to his feet, drawing his sword.
Alfred's eyes widened in terror.
"Alfred?" Uther said in his calm and deadly voice. "I am going to give you two choices."
Alfred nodded his head enthusiastically.
"You may keep your job ... or ... you may keep your head. Which will it be?"
The colors instantly drained from Alfred's face.
"Hurry up, Alfred. I am about to withdraw your second choice."
"M-m-m-m-m-m-y head, Sire!" Alfred finally managed to gasp.
Uther nodded. "Very well, so be it. You may keep your head. Goodbye, Alfred."
Alfred nodded his head enthusiastically, while Uther nodded at the guard standing beside Alfred. The guard then escorted Alfred out o
f the throne room to enjoy his new life as a former Chief Advisor.
Uther then turned to Bors and pointed a finger at him. "I have no advisors. Do you understand?"
Bors clapped his fist to his chest and nodded.
"I am done for today." And Uther turned to leave. Then ... he paused for a moment ... then turned back around to Bors. "You never argue with me, anymore."
Bors shrugged.
"Do you not approve of how I am handling things?"
"I have never said either way."
"Exactly. You no longer offer your opinion about anything."
Bors shrugged, again.
"You used to think I was too soft."
"Are you asking for my honest opinion?"
"I am."
"I liked you better, before."
Uther looked at Bors for a long time.
Then, Uther turned and began walking away. "Well, that makes two of us." He finally said, before he disappeared through the rear door.
Chapter 24
The following day, Uther and Bors were returning to the castle on foot from his weekly inspection of the Knight's Barracks.
"I have to tell you something, Bors. But it terrifies me say to have to say this."
Bors nodded without reply.
"I do not trust anyone, Bors."
"I see."
"And I mean ... anyone. Not even the Knights."
Bors sighed. "I heard Ambrosius speak his last words to you. I understand where this comes from."
Uther stopped abruptly, and then turned and faced Bors. "Except ... you."
Bors looked at Uther in surprise.
"You are the only one I trust, Bors. I do not know of anyone else. I have not spent time with anyone else to know them."
"I see."
Uther turned and began walking again. "My wife once asked me if I had the gift of seeing hearts. At that time, I told her I thought such a gift would be a curse. Now I am beginning to think it would not be such a curse. For I now find myself suspicious of all men's hearts. I wish I could find a few ... even a few ... whom I could trust."
"Even so..." said Bors. "I still think such a gift would be a curse. To be suspicious is one thing. To know ... would be worse."
