by C. M. Gray
He was at the point of moving away, unwilling to intrude upon another man's family, yet he felt himself rooted to the spot, something within him was making him stay and continue watching her, just for a few moments more.
Somehow he realised, he had managed to disappear. He knew he had chanced upon a rare moment, the amount of time that he could remain anonymous like this could surely be only moments before he was recognised or called for. He wasn't quite sure how he had done it, or how long it would last, but at this moment, he felt invisible. He pulled his cloak tighter and the hood closer about his face, willing the moments to last as he gazed upon this woman.
He had tried on many occasions to slip away and just be himself, to be Usher again, the name he grew up with when he was in hiding as a boy, rather than Uther Pendragon, the King. These days it was a little more difficult to remain unseen for long, yet from beneath the concealment of his hood, for these few precious moments, he was alone amongst the crowd, just another visitor to the celebrations, and so he continued to stare.
Her hair was covered with a white scarf, held in place by a gold plaited cord, but he could see that her hair was a dark, rich auburn where it escaped in curls and fell upon her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed with the excitement of the music, and they coloured, even more, when she turned and saw him regarding her so intently.
Embarrassed to be discovered, he bowed his head and then hastily removed the hood that had hidden him so well. He heard the indrawn exclamation of shock when she realised it was the King who had been spying on her. She curtseyed low, keeping her eyes downcast as she waited for him to approach.
He motioned the musicians to return to their playing, for they had also abruptly stopped which was drawing, even more, attention. Oh, how quickly a perfect moment can pass.
'I am sorry to intrude upon you, my Lady.' Uther wasn't sure where the words came from as his heart seemed to be fluttering inside his chest like a fish freshly landed upon the bank. 'It's just that I saw you and I do not believe that we have met before. I felt I must come to introduce myself and beg the honour of knowing your name.' A soon as the words tripped out from his lips he bemoaned his lack of preparation. He sounded like a fool, he realised. Like a bumbling, village boy asking a maid to dance for the very first time. It was hardly the behaviour of a King.
But she had the grace to blush as she smiled, and then she glanced at the children before returning her gaze to him and their eyes seemed to lock together. Something awoke within him and, for one long eternal moment, he felt he was lost within her eyes. Brown eyes, the colour of hazelnuts he reflected, with flecks like pure gold that danced in the light. Oh, for the sake of the spirits… I sound like a lovelorn fool… but she is so pretty… Uther wiped a sudden flush of sweat from his brow. The sounds of celebration had all but disappeared and after a moment, he realised that her lips had been moving and that she was saying something. She was pointing to the children, introducing them. Two young girls were walking towards them… the youngest girl was familiar, but he couldn't place her.
'I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, there is so much noise here.' Uther felt himself blush and cursed himself again. That had also sounded so pitiful. He forced himself to be calm and think before he smiled at the girls and then spoke… oh, but she was so beautiful. 'Your name, what did you say your name…?'
'Uther!'
Uther turned to see Merlyn making his way through the crowd.
'Uther, we need to attend the fortress. There are…'
Uther ignored Merlyn and turned back to the girl. The two children had returned to their dance, but she was still smiling at him.'
'What is your name? I hope we might meet later… at the fortress… the feast?'
'Uther, we really must leave. There is much to prepare before…' Merlyn noticed the girl for the first time and dropped the sleeve of Uther's tunic which he had just taken hold of to gain the King's attention. 'I am sorry, King Uther, my Lady.' Merlyn smiled and stepped back. 'I am sorry, but we do need to be away, Sire.'
Uther cast a despairing look to the girl and took a step backwards to Merlyn, knowing he did indeed need to attend the assembly at the fortress.
'Igraine, my name is Igraine, King Uther, and I am sure we will see each other later.' She called the last of this as Uther was being drawn through the crowd by Merlyn.
'Who is she, do you know her? I haven't seen her before and I'm sure I would have noticed her.'
'Stop grinning like a fish, Uther; it does not become a King. I think you will find she is the wife of one of the visiting lords. Possibly not the ideal choice for you to have desires upon. Possibly the Saxon girl earlier would be a better choice for now… Uther?'
Uther realised Merlyn had been speaking and was staring at him as they walked. He glanced across at the Druid and saw the old Druid was smiling.
'It was you who mentioned I needed a wife,' said Uther a little indignantly.
'Yes my King, but even I did not expect you to act upon my advice quite so quickly.' They were both laughing as they started up the Tor towards the new stone and timber gatehouse to Pendragon fortress. Uther glanced up at the pennons flapping in the breeze and decided he was looking forward to the evening's feast far more than he had been previously. It was indeed, highly probable that the lovely Igraine was wife to one of the tribal leaders, and if that were the case, then so be it. Yet possibly some other explanation for her being here might arise… so why not dream a little… '
As Uther and Merlyn passed through the gates, they could see that the preparations for Samhain were well underway. In the lower level close to the gates, animals were in pens waiting to be slaughtered, eyes wide and agitated. The shrill cries of their agony and distress filling the air to mix with the acrid smell of their blood and piss. Several large fires were already burning so that once the beasts and fowl had been killed, they could be cut apart and the meat cooked.
There would be two main gatherings. Uther, the Lords, tribal leaders and other invited guests would eat in the main hall of the fortress, while those of lesser rank would dine below in the two smaller halls and, with weather permitting, meat, ale and mead would also be served to the villagers who would gather outside within the lower stockade - nobody would go hungry whether they be King, chieftain or warrior, nor even surf or slave on feast days.
At the King's approach, a number of servants came seeking his approval of some arrangement or other. Much had already been completed. Food and drink was being taken care of; musicians would move up from the village later in the afternoon to entertain those within the fortress walls while others would enter the main hall for Uther and his guests. For some time, both Uther and Merlyn were occupied with the chieftains and lords as they passed on reports of what had been happening within the land while they had been away, and so, for a while at least, Uther's mind was distracted from all thoughts of Igraine.
Uther sat in judgement for a number of situations that had taken place whilst they had been away. The Saxons had been quiet for the most part. However, a hall had been burned close to the border with the former Iceni lands, and this was troubling. The Lord, his family, and retainers had all been slain, and when questioned, those who had escaped had claimed there had been a disagreement between the Lord, a man named Budoc, and his closest neighbour, a Saxon from across the disputed border. It seemed that the son of Budoc had been a little too keen to bridge the divide between Celt and Saxon by bedding the Saxon's daughter, a lovely girl by all accounts by the name of Mildritha.
'But why did this need to end with so much bloodshed?' asked Uther. 'Surely this should have been the prelude to a joyous time bringing the people together?'
'Well, Sire, there had been good relations between our people. The Saxon settlers were fair in their treatment with us until this time.' The man who had come to report the crime was dirty from days of travel. He looked miserable, as well he might considering the place he had called home had been burnt to the ground. Two small children and an old wom
an sniffled and shuffled a few paces behind him.
'My Lord's son may well have put the girl with child… well he did, we all knew that, and then refused to know her. When the Saxons came, they were in no mood to talk as my Lord wished, for as I have said, they had enjoyed a peaceful existence as neighbours before this day. The Saxons came and were deeply angered. They dragged my Lord's son from the hall and killed him in front of all of us that had been woken so rudely from our sleep. And then they set the hall aflame, refusing to allow my Lord and his family to leave… they all burnt, they died a horrible death, King Uther. It was not necessary. I shall always remember the screaming and crying… the pleading from within. It will live with my children throughout their lives I can assure you of that.' The two children began to sob, and he turned to hush them. They ran to him, and he held them close, casting his eyes low as he waited for his King to respond.
'We shall house you here at the fortress and find you gainful work if you wish.' Uther signalled for Sir Ector to join him and the old warrior came and kneeled at Uther's side.
'Sir Ector, at first light, you will send riders to this hall and learn the truth of what occurred there. Discover what happened and then we shall see how we should respond to this attack upon our people.'
'I shall send fifty mounted warriors at first light.' Sir Ector rose and moved away along with the man and his children who were crying as the man gave thanks to his King.'
'Who next wishes to petition the King?' A murmuring went up from the people crowded into the back part of the great hall as the next in line to speak to the King was sought.
Uther wondered how much longer he had to endure this and knew it would be well into darkness before he could begin to relax and take part in the night's feasting. He had asked Sir Ector to allow only the neediest cases to be brought forward, but it still seemed that there was no end in sight.
It was dark with both fires and fire-braziers lit around the hall when the last small group was brought forward. A dispute regarding the ownership of sheep that had strayed onto another man's land. The owner of the sheep claiming there was no confusion, they were his sheep while the owner of a patch of land growing green vegetables, now claiming ownership as his right, his vegetables after all, were now inside the sheep. Uther leant forward in his chair and held his head in his hands. He was feeling tired and bereft of patience at this point. He cared little for the man's sheep or of the other's vegetables, yet he knew they needed a decision from a third party, from him. A system had to be devised to handle these smaller cases. The Lords and Chiefs dealt with such things within their own lands, but many people sought out their King to give a final decision, but these cases needed to be heard by others, by someone else, possibly Sir Ector. He looked up as the sound of sheep bleating came from the other side of the door.
'The sheep remain the property of their owner, however, you are charged to keep them from your neighbour's land in future and shall give him the next lamb born to your flock in payment for his lost crop.'
'But, King Uther…' began one of the men, but Sir Ector raised his voice above the objection.
'Silence! Your King has spoken and given his decision. Leave, and if this is not agreed and finished, then the King shall take both sheep and land, and you shall have nothing… now leave us. The two men backed away and were hastily ushered out by two warriors.
'Are we done?' Uther looked about the hall. There were still a lot of people milling about. Some bringing drinking jugs, horns and clay cups to the tables, while another group looked to be musicians. They were probably waiting until they were told to start playing.
'There are other complaints and problems that can be brought in front of you, King Uther,' said Sir Ector wearily. 'More lands have been stolen, thefts taken place and a lord has just caused a commotion and beaten his wife in public, the Duc of Cornovii, I believe, but I think we can safely allow those crimes and problems to await the morrow, we are finished for today.'
'Good, let the feasting begin. Why did Gerlois beat his wife?' Uther rose from his chair and walked down to Sir Ector. Merlyn joined them, and they moved to stand beside one of the large fires. All three accepted horns of ale from a slave and stared at the crackling logs and smoke that rose up towards the thatch high above.
'I am told he beat her because she strays, my Lord. Not to another man's bed, I understand, but she does not stay by his side as he wishes. It seems she is a woman with a mind of her own.' Sir Ector shrugged, 'I think he is still a little upset by what happened upon the quest. He has already asked that he be allowed to leave with his warriors and servants. I explained that it would be deemed an insult if he were to depart before the feasting had finished and he has agreed to stay, but he is not happy, perhaps he took out a little of his frustration upon his wife.'
'I have not met the lady,' muttered Merlyn as he drank from the horn and then lowered it, smacking his lips with relish at the taste of the ale, 'but I am told that the Duc regularly beats his wife, not something that I can personally approve of, a lord beating his wife as if he were some common serf, but we have no law against it.'
'I do not agree with it either, I find it to be cowardly,' muttered Uther, 'but after our experience with him upon the Isle of Erin, I can believe he is the type to do such a thing. To be honest with you, I find it hard to take a measure of the man. One moment he is our friend and staunchest ally, the next he is cutting the rope that was our lifeline back to the boat, I still believe he cut it despite his protests to the contrary. I also dislike him running, trying to slip out the back door as he did at the Druid's hall and like he is trying to do now.' He held a hand out feeling the heat of the fire upon his palm and stared into the flames. 'Despite all of this, I think I would like to be presented to both the Duc, and his wife. We need to move forward, not backwards. Let us see if we cannot mend both the Duc's reputation, so badly broken upon the quest, and also the marriage that he chooses to disapprove of so publically. It would be best for the tribes if the Duc once more becomes a worthy ally and not a dishonourable outcast.'
Morgana brought the bowl that she had been holding down hard upon the stool, splashing drops onto Uther as he lay prone in his cot.
'An outcast? Dishonourable? And he would not have cut that rope. It is evident that you had already decided my father's fate by this time. You had met and converted his wife, my mother.'
Uther looked up to see that Morgana was trembling with rage, and he could see now that she had been weeping while he had been talking.
'It is true that your father and I did not much like each other, even then. But it is also true that as we began the feast, I only wanted to bring both him, the Dumnonii and the Cornovii tribes back into the alliance.'
'Drink this.' Morgana thrust the clay cup towards Uther until it touched his lips. He was thirsty so he drank, his eyes flickering from Morgana to Maude whom he could see back in the shadows, a worried look upon her face. He flexed his toes and fingers trying to loosen the stiffness that seemed to be taking hold of him, then drank more and looked once again into Morgana's angry eyes. She had her father's eyes he noticed, but the determined look and the crease of her brow was that of Igraine. He felt himself drifting back to sleep, his last vision that of Morgana staring at him with a look of pure hatred.
Chapter 16
A Broken Cup
The celebrations continued throughout the afternoon and on until the light began to fade from the day. The weather had remained fair throughout, but there was now a strong breeze and a chill in the air that promised the cold of winter was approaching. Uther decided he was glad the quest was behind them and he was back amongst his people once again.
Within the great hall, it was warm; guests were arriving and the musicians had already begun their playing. Glancing about, he realised this might be the last chance he would get to slip away and get a little fresh air before the feasting began in earnest, and so he discreetly withdrew in search of the cool of the evening and strolled out and through
the upper wooden gates. After exchanging greetings with a few guests moving in the other direction, he eventually found a quiet unobserved spot where he could look down into the lower stockade.
He watched as people moved happily between the two smaller, communal halls, milling around the many fires where a variety of meats were being cooked – grouse, ducks, geese and swans all being turned on long spits, whilst on other fires, cuts of boar, deer and mutton were being roasted, the sound of the meat's fat dripping, hissing into the fires, where it wasn't being caught in clay bowls to be eaten later, carried back to him. Uther drew in a breath, rich in the scents of cooking meats and freshly baked breads and smiled. He took it all in, enjoying the moment of being alone and watching the people of the tribes as they celebrated the beginning of Samhain.
The light was almost gone, the darkness of Samhain almost upon them. Uther glanced up, feeling a chill of superstitious dread for this most special of evenings. The breeze had swept the sky clear of any clouds and he could just make out the sparkle of the first stars.
All around the walls of the lower stockade, fire braziers were being lit, both to illuminate the merriments and also to keep the evilest spirits of the night at bay. The Eve of Samhain was the one night of the year when the spirits of the dead, those who had passed into the Shadowland within the last year, would be able to push through the veil between the worlds. The Druids told that the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest during Samhain, so the dead would enter and walk upon the earth for one final time, saying their goodbyes and dealing with any unfinished business. Every tribesman knew they should take great care because, upon the Eve of Samhain, it was not only the spirits of the dead that would be entering the realm of man, but it was also spirits of a more evil and mischievous nature that would be set loose upon this world, all for this one most special of nights.
