by C. M. Gray
'It appears that the weather is on our side,' said Gerlois, holding out his hand to catch a snowflake. 'With the grace of the spirits, we shall either have Uther Pendragon as our guest in a few days, having apologised for his treatment of me, or they will have retreated, back north, and will be more concerned with provisioning their people through the winter months and preparing for Saxon raids after the thaw.' Gerlois turned and began to walk towards his halls with Morgana skipping along at his side. There were two halls, built side by side, set in the main part of the fortress, close to the market square; he liked to be close to where the gold and silver changed hands and where he could entertain visiting merchants.
'My Lord,' called Peder, 'there is an envoy from the Veneti awaiting you. He arrived by boat from across the water several days ago and asks to be brought to you as soon as you arrive.'
'An opportune arrival,' Gerlois smiled and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a good trade deal. 'Send him to my hall; I shall await him there. Have a goose prepared and bring pots of their good Veneti wine and of course, Saxon ale. Uther Pendragon can wait, we have trade to discuss.'
They had thought they were already in the depths of winter, until the night when it really arrived. Only one day out from the relative comfort of their encampment at Gloucester, dark, ominous clouds began to gather overhead, and the temperature dropped along with the fading light.
'I don't much like the look of this, but 'tis too cold to snow.' Sir Ector pulled his furs around him and scowled up at the clouds.
'I wouldn't be too sure of that,' said Merlyn as he held out a hand to catch the solitary snowflake drifting down towards him. Other flakes were already appearing around them, and a disgruntled murmuring was moving up and down the line of marching warriors.
'We shall build our shelters this night within the forest,' said Uther. 'Like as not, it will be done by morning and we shall be able to move on. For now, let us prepare for the worst, make our shelters and put some hot food into our bellies.'
'To the trees and make camp,' called Sir Ector, and the word was repeated up and down the line. Chariots, carts, and horsemen began heading towards the trees with all the warriors on foot following behind. Sir Ector sent several warriors to set up guard points on a perimeter and others to scout the forest in the direction of Isca.
'Our scouts report that we are approximately two days march from the fortress of Isca.' Uther walked his horse closer to where Sir Ector and Merlyn rode. 'As they have already met with several of Gerlois warriors, we can assume that he is well warned of our approach. The gates will be closed to us. I would have your counsel as how best we can proceed.'
Merlyn turned in his saddle, to look at Uther, a bemused look upon his face. 'Now you wish our guidance, King Uther? Possibly it is a little late for us to add our counsel. What exactly is it that you wish to accomplish by bringing so many warriors half way across the Kingdom, in the dead of winter?' He took a look up towards the clouds, snowflakes catching in his beard. 'The Gods conspire against us for they are now sending us a full winter it seems.' The three riders reached the edge of the treeline and warriors took their horses as they dismounted. Fires were already being lit, the smell of smoke drifting around them promising an escape from the cold, and shelters were also hurriedly built, the sound of branches being cut echoing through the forest.
'I know that both of you, as well as many others, believe that this is a mistake born out of your King's infatuation with the Duc's wife, which is something that grieves me to be so misunderstood.' Uther ignored the raised eyebrow and amused smile upon Merlyn's face. 'There are two things that need to be accomplished by our intervention in the affairs of Duc Gerlois. Both the Cornovii and Dumnonii tribes are ruled over by the Duc. Combined, they are one of the richest tribes within our alliance. We cannot have them led by a man who is not a true member of our union, an honourable member of the round table. A man that at the moment, we cannot trust. Duc Gerlois must go down upon his knees to me, his King, pledge himself to our cause and take up the responsibility that his position dictates, or he must be replaced. If he is to be replaced, then it must be now, not later when all his misdeeds have become nothing more than old memory.' Uther looked into the eyes of his two friends, one after the other, seeking some understanding.
'I agree, King Uther,' said Sir Ector. 'The Duc is both infuriating and also untrustworthy, his conduct upon our quest was embarrassing, and he then offered great insult by not returning when you commanded; he must be brought to heel.' Uther smiled placing a hand upon his friend's shoulder, silently thanking him for his understanding.
'Pah!' Merlyn grinned and slapped his knees while Uther scowled across at him. 'We could have waited until spring, to march down here for that. The Duc will do little between now and then, a little trade maybe, that's what his greedy heart desires, but even trade is hard to accomplish in winter.' He waved his arm around at the cold, bleak woodland. 'The only reason that we have marched down here, and will spend most of the winter freezing our bottoms off in this forest, is that you have desires upon that girl.'
'Keep your voice down and control yourself.' Uther drew Merlyn over to a fire that had been lit for them and they sat together on a fallen log, holding their hands out to the flames while Sir Ector sat opposite them and frowned at Merlyn.
'It is fine, Uther. You are a King, and a King gets what a King wants, that is the way it should be. I am not going to argue the pointlessness of marching such a mighty host of warriors half the way around the world, in the middle of winter, to win your girl. It is a little late for that and, quite frankly, not my place to do so.'
'You have never been shy before about telling me what you think, certainly you have called me a fool many times. I'm sure you have your reasons why you are not berating me right now, but I don't care, because after the quest to Erin, which was also pointless and an incredible waste of time,' Uther held a hand up to Merlyn, as the Druid made to argue. 'After that, oh so noble, quest, we agreed that you were very much in my debt. You will soon be repaying that debt by helping me to bring the Duc to heel or Igraine back to Pendragon fortress.'
'And how am I, a mere Druid, supposed to accomplish that for you, Uther?'
'You are not a 'mere' anything, old man. I do not know how you will aid me just yet, but I will surely think of a way. Firstly, we have the Duc and his walls to deal with, which is why I need both you and Sir Ector.' He looked across the fire to Sir Ector. 'We will need to get into the walls of Isca, or we will need to bring our Duc out… any suggestions?'
The warriors of the tribes dug in, huddling close around their fires for three days while the winter threw its cruellest, coldest weather at them. The shelters they had constructed, for the most part, were made from a large number of supple saplings that had been carried upon the carts. They were placed in a circle, bent and fashioned into the shape of a hut, covered with animal hides and then thatched with gathered branches. They were warm, dry and with a fire at the centre of each, the warriors were able to cook their staple of barley pottage. The ingredients of the pottage in each hut differed slightly, but as very few were able to add any meat, most of the differences came from the variety of seeds and vegetables being carried by the warriors in each hut. They told stories, sang songs, and joked with each other to relieve the boredom and keep chills at bay, whilst the pottage continually cooked.
Merlyn and his Druids did their best to try and appease the blue faced hag, Cailleach, Goddess of winter, by making offerings of hastily gathered roots, dried flowers, and of course, blood, the meat from each sacrificed lamb, goat or chicken being offered for the pottage in different huts. Uther regarded their ceremonies with interest and hope, but a look to the cloudy sky showed that the Goddess still had a mind to torment them and that the Druids were being ignored. Snow continued to fall without let, covering the forest and all its surroundings in a thick, if not beautiful, blanket of deadly cold. Thin trails of smoke rose from white mounds beneath which the warriors h
uddled in their huts, praying to their Gods, and waiting for the hag to lose interest in her game so that the cold might end.
At dawn, on the fourth day of their forced confinement, the warriors emerged to find that the snow had finally stopped falling. A cold, crisp morning lay under a deep blue sky suggesting that the hag had finally turned her attention elsewhere and that a change had occurred in the weather, hopefully, she had found some Saxons to chill.
Merlyn, of course, claimed the change was because of his devotions. At his request the spirits of the ancestors had intervened on their behalf, Cailleach had been persuaded to leave, and the Gods were once more smiling upon them.
As Merlyn and Uther mounted their horses and moved off to be at the head of the column, they passed carts and chariots being dug from the snow and being piled high with the hut building materials and all the many other entrapments that the mass of warriors needed on the move. While huts were being dismantled, many of the tribesmen travelling on foot were already being led onto the path between the trees. Horsemen and chariots would follow and soon pass them with Sir Ector at their head, having sent out bands of scouts at first light to clear the way and send word back should they encounter the Cornovii. All knew that this was to be the final part of their journey to Isca, this was the day they would encounter the combined might of the Cornovii and Dumnonii, and their King would face the Duc.
Tintagel was an important part of the Cornovii, Dumnonii trading empire. Many boats anchored in the bay below the fortress to bring goods ashore, boats that had journeyed from all over the known world. It was a second home to Igraine and without Gerlois there she finally had time to heal, to be with her remaining daughters and to walk wherever she wished without the restriction of the Duc's rules and his demands that she stay constantly by his side. Although her father's village of Tamara was less than a day's walk inland, she had not seen him in many months because of Gerlois' rules, in the spring thaw, she would visit. She felt more content at Tintagel than in the larger settlements of Isca or Dimilioc; it was home. Isca was two days travel east by cart, where her thoughts persistently were as she thought of Morgana and worried for her safety while Dimilioc was just half a day's ride.
The Isle of Tintagel was home to the small wooden fortress, which comprised of a stone and wood palisade that surrounded four small halls and her own larger hall. There was also a small community of traders, shepherds, and fishermen who lived in huts that dotted the isle. She was well liked by all who lived there, both amongst the people upon the isle and also in the village of Tintagel itself, which was over on the mainland. Whenever she was there, Igraine would spend time roaming the windy isle, either alone or accompanied by one or more of her daughters. On fine days she would cross the bridge that spanned the defensive ditch, to either stroll along the cliff path or to walk on into the village, to meet and talk with the villagers, many of whom she called friends.
Now, however, the weather confined her to the fortress, the wind howling as it drove sleet and snow against the shuttered window openings and rustled through the thick thatch above their heads. They gathered around the central fire and sang songs, roasted nuts, told stories and thanked the spirits that they had survived their sea voyage.
'When the snow stops then the sun will come to warm us,' Igraine smiled around at Morgause and Elaine. 'Shall we climb down to the caves? Would you like that?'
'It smells down there, and it will be slippery on the rocks,' said Morgause in a sulky voice.
'I think I will stay here, by this fire until Beltane, and it is time to come out and dance,' said Elaine with a giggle. 'I hate the cold.'
'You know that Morgana would call you both babies,' said Igraine, smiling at the thought of her missing daughter. She would want to climb down the path and take a boat, even if it was still snowing.
'The big cave is magnificent,' said Elaine. 'So much bigger inside. Morgana always says that a great sea serpent calls it home. You don't think that do you, Mother?' Morgause looked to Igraine for reassurance.
'Morgana only says that because she enjoys scaring you,' said Igraine with a smile. 'There are no monsters in any of the caves, so nobody needs to worry or even think about it.' Both Morgause and Elaine looked relieved. 'Anyway, today is not a day to go down to the caves. It will be some time before we can comfortably leave here. Now, I know that we have some honey, would either of you like to bake hearth cakes?' The girls squealed in delight and preparations were made to bake the cakes. It was always difficult filling the time when the weather held them captive, but Igraine could only thank the spirits that the cold weather had waited until their sea voyage was over. One of the Gods or some great spirit was watching over them she felt, that was for sure. She hoped Morgana was faring well and was warm, dry and happy with her father.
The first stones of the conflict were slung just as light was fading and the Duc of the Cornovii had thrown his last insult. They clattered against the solid trunks of the palisade and didn't strike anyone.
'No more stones,' called Uther as he walked back towards his men shaking his head, 'he is not worth it. The man is pathetic; he knows we're here and that we will have to reach an agreement. He is being obstinate, trying to be something he clearly isn't in front of his men, that is all.' He walked back through his ranks with Merlyn and Sir Ector quickly falling in behind him.
'Sir Ector, I tire of playing games with the Duc. You will not like what I propose, but I have a way of getting information. I will need two of your men to accompany me while you create a distraction here at the gate. We shall end this matter quickly I think.'
'Uther…' Merlyn took hold of the King's sleeve and forced him to turn around. 'Uther what are you planning and why won't we like it?'
'Fear not,' replied Uther. 'All will be well, and we won't be too cold while we wait on the Duc's pleasure. We're going to burn his gate. It will keep us warm, upset him, and make a nice distraction.'
Upon arriving at the fortified town of Isca, for that was what it was, a fortified town rather than just a fortress. Sir Ector had approached the gate and called for Duc Gerlois to show himself so that King Uther Pendragon might speak with him. Behind Uther and his small group, the warriors of the tribes were making their camp in the forest, some five hundred paces from the wooden palisade of the town. Standing over the gate, Cornovii warriors stared down at Uther and his party saying nothing, Uther only had to assume that the request for Gerlois to show himself would, in fact, reach the Duc. After quite a significant period of time, they were beginning to wonder if word had been sent to the Duc when he finally showed himself, standing beside his men, one hand resting casually upon the shoulder of a young girl. Uther recognised her as one of his daughters while the Duc held a haunch of meat that he waved around between bites to emphasis his points when he started speaking.
'King Uther, I am heartened to see you. I did explain to Sir Ector there,' he waved the meat towards Sir Ector, 'that I was bitterly disappointed at having been called away from the celebrations at your fortress. I was told of events here that demanded my immediate return… I did explain.'
'Duc Gerlois, please open your gates so that I might enter with my retinue. I think it best that we might discuss the problems between us in a little more comfort than this. You have caused me to march many days through the foulest of weather, will you not bid me enter and offer me hospitality?' Uther's horse had edged forward, it stamped at the ground and shook its head, clearly aware of the anger that Uther was barely keeping in check as he looked up at the Duc and his daughter.
'King Uther, the town is full, I shudder to think of what paltry accommodation I might be able to offer you should I bid you enter now, we are so unprepared, and you sent no word of your coming.' Duc Gerlois peered down at Uther and offered a sickly smile. 'If you could come back in a few days I am sure we would have something more suitable prepared for you. For now, I think you would be much more comfortable in your pavilion.' He dropped the bone he had been gnawing over the side and
sucked on his fingers, one after another, still looking at Uther.
'How dare you speak to your King in this…'
'Do not banter with him,' Uther, cut Sir Ector off, 'he understands only too well how he insults me while he hides behind his daughter.' Around Uther, the warriors with him began to spin their slings, the sound a whirr in the air like a hive of angry bees, the war hounds at their sides growling, hackles raised in anticipation of being set loose. Uther raised his voice to be heard above the sound. 'Perhaps, Gerlois, I may indeed be more comfortable amongst my own after all, but I am very sure that I shall be sitting at your table presently. Just as soon as the Dumnonii and Cornovii are once again counted amongst the allied tribes. I wonder if it will be you sitting at that table beside me; you play a dangerous game.' He turned his horse without waiting for a reply and heard the slingers stones clatter against the palisade.
'No more stones,' called back Uther angrily. 'Did you not see the girl? That man is pathetic.'
Chapter 21
Isca
Dawn brought another crisp, cold and beautiful morning, beautiful at least to any who could appreciate it after such a frigidly cold night. As the last of the darkness retreated, the stars were replaced with a sky, the rich blue of tribal woad paint. Snow still lay thickly and showed no signs of melting, but even the winter chill could not dispel how perfect the morning was as Uther walked from his pavilion in search of food to break his fast. He pulled the woollen shawl more tightly about his neck as a chill wind danced about him, sending small puffs of snow falling from the branches above.
'Greetings, King Uther,' - Sir Ector rose from where he had been crouching feeding wood to a crackling fire - 'a fine day for a battle.' He turned and pointed out towards the palisade walls of Isca. 'We've watched several deserters drop from the walls, quite amusing as they scuttle off into the forest. There must surely have been more of them during the night. I've sent some warriors in search of a couple so we can ask a few questions. I can only imagine that Duc Gerlois is also feeling the strain of us being here, he may be a little more open to speaking this morning when we approach.'
