The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2)

by C. M. Gray

  Uther smiled and sat down beside Sir Ector. 'Let us hope he has spent a night worrying and lying in remorse at his actions, I doubt it, but we shall surely see. It is my fervent wish that he throws open those gates, and we are welcomed so that we can discuss cooperation and the solidarity of our tribes, but firstly I wish to eat, so let him keep his gates closed a little longer.'

  'The Duc is indisposed, King Uther. I am to ask you to await him while he attends to business within the town.' The speaker gazed down from the palisade above the gate and appeared genuinely sorry that he could not bring Duc Gerlois to speak to Uther. 'He said that you would come and that he would join with you as soon as he was able.' The man shrugged as if saying 'what can I do about it?' There were several warriors of the Dumnonii and Cornovii grouped there; Uther couldn't easily tell them apart, their tribal colours and armour very similar and their speech carrying the same heavy burble no matter who spoke, male or female.

  Uther and Sir Ector had ridden to the gates of Isca after breaking their fasts and were accompanied by just a small group of mounted warriors. 'I have no arguments with the warriors of the Cornovii and Dumnonii tribes. We are all one, united under the name of Britons. Yet you know your chief and leader Gerlois is hiding from me, disrespecting me, his King. He cowers behind you as he throws his insults at me and leads you all to shame.' Uther's horse shook its head and danced to the side, its hot breath steaming in the cold morning air. He took a moment to pat its neck and whisper softly to calm it before continuing.

  'The Dumnonii and Cornovii are valued members of the united tribes. We have fought the Saxons together and together we will fight them again. I am asking you to open the gates and let me ride into your fortress. The Duc does not deserve your loyalty; you may aid me in choosing a new leader for your tribes and together we will…'

  'Together we will what, King Uther?' Duc Gerlois appeared next to his men and sneered down at Uther and Sir Ector. 'Allow us to bow and scrape to you while you lead us on more ridiculous quests, then turn tribe against tribe with the Druids' games and attempt to make off with our women. In Dumnonia, we are free men, as we were before the Romans, as we were under the Romans and as we will continue to be without your interference. Leave us and perhaps we will speak again once the winter thaws.'

  'You condemn your men and women with your words and with your actions, Gerlois.' Uther sat straighter in his saddle and raised his voice so as many within earshot could hear his words. 'Hear me warriors and people of the Dumnonii and Cornovii. You are hereby instructed to hand over Gerlois, former Duc of those tribes to face judgement before me, his King. If you do not surrender the coward Gerlois, then we shall have no regress but to bring war to your fortress and take him. You have until midday to hand him over.' Without waiting for any reply, Uther wheeled his horse and rode back to his camp trailed by Sir Ector and his men.

  Moments after Uther entered his own camp his drums began to beat the call for war, and the horns rose to send their long melancholy wail across the snow filled expanse between the two groups. It seemed to all the world as if blood was soon going to be shed.

  The walls of Isca were not the mightiest of barriers, but the trouble that Uther had, he soon realised, was his lack of any war machine capable of bringing them down. They had all heard tales of the Roman siege machines, onagers – large travelling platforms with slingers capable of sending a number of rocks, each bigger than a man's head, into wooden gates and breaking them asunder. He knew that in the days before the Romans had occupied Britain then his ancestors had their own siege machines, but times and the art of war had changed, and now he had none. Uther's troops were quick, mobile groups that could raid, fight from horseback or from chariots, could stand side by side in a shield wall and scream into the face of their enemy while exchanging blows, which was a fine tactic against the Saxons who fought in much the same manner, but the gates and walls of Isca were a problem. Uther knew it and obviously, Gerlois knew it too.

  'They give us the answer within the problem they present us.' Merlyn smiled as he gazed about the fire at the gathered Council of War, and then frowned as he was met with blank questioning looks. 'We are held back by the walls of Isca, and so, in turn, we should build our own wall around the town and close the fortress off from the world.'

  'A worthy plan, Merlyn, yet I hadn't planned on this taking years,' broke in Uther. 'We need to humble the Duc and have his people deliver him to us as quickly as possible; there must be a quicker way.'

  'We need to scale the wall, this is all,' muttered Sir Ector. 'Once we have men inside, then they will give us the Duc. I have fought with these warriors many times and each time it was under the banner of Pendragon; they have been loyal to you, Uther. These men and women have stood shoulder to shoulder in the shield wall facing the Saxons with us. We have laughed together, spilt blood together, cared for each other, these are good warriors. They must surely be feeling some confusion between their loyalty to you, and their loyalty to the Duc. They know by now of what transpired upon the quest to Erin. The Duc's hold over them must surely be weak. I feel that once we have men the other side of those walls, then they will begin to break and more and more will come across to join our ranks.' Sir Ector pointed to the walls behind them. 'I suggest we cut trees and branches and construct a hill against their wall, something our tribesmen can scale. Or ladders, big enough for many of our men and women to climb. We will set our archers to protect those climbing; we don't want them speared from the wall.'

  'Another good plan,' said Uther. 'What I am hearing is that we need to give them time to turn from Gerlois and join us, and I agree. I don't want to kill our brothers and sisters. It's not their fault that the man who leads them is a self-obsessed fool. We require a plan to break the Duc, but not the Dumnonii or Cornovii; we will kill as few of their warriors as possible.'

  'If the Duc were a warrior,' said Sir Ector, 'then it would be a simple task to call him out and challenge him to single combat.' He shook his head and spat into the fire, it hissed angrily, 'but our Duc will not be lured onto a battlefield, we have seen that already.'

  Uther stood and looked from Sir Ector to Merlyn as he tightened the belt holding Excalibur. 'Cut the wood, lots of it. We will provide the Duc with a little entertainment and warm his feet at the same time. I want wood piled by the gate, make it as high as possible, and Merlyn…'

  'Yes, Uther?' asked Merlyn warily. He looked up at Uther, his bushy white eyebrows raising in question.

  'I will want a little of your Druid mystery sometime later. We will upset our Duc and perhaps provide the distraction that I need. I have always found that you're the master of upsetting and distracting people, Merlyn, so let us use that talent of yours to our advantage.'

  The lone Briganti warrior dragged his spear against the snowy ground. He rode a dappled mount that flicked its head in annoyance at how slowly it was being forced to walk. They were keeping just outside the range of any arrows, along the line of the palisade. The warrior's head was turned to the side and wore an evil grin under his blue woad paint as he watched the Cornovii and Dumnonii warriors lining the wall, pushing past each other in their haste to match his progress. He was bare legged below leather riding shorts and a cloak and tunic decorated in the blue-green plaid of his Northern tribe. He hadn't been the first warrior to seek single combat that morning, two men had died, one from each side and a Dumnonii woman had been taken back within the fortress after her fight with a female warrior of the Trinovantes had not gone so well for her.

  The Briganti stopped and turned towards the wall. 'Come, I tire of waiting. Who will face me? Who will join with me in the warrior's dance?' He raised a skin of ale and tipped it, so the liquid fell into his open mouth. Unfortunately, as he lifted the skin the horse danced beneath him, and he coughed, dropping the skin to the floor where it landed with a loud splat to spill the remains of its contents in the snow. Laughter and jeering rang out from the palisade as the Briganti tried to regain control of his horse, which
he did remarkably quickly and then snatched up his spear and yelled even louder.

  'Cowards… will nobody answer my challenge or will you keep cowering behind each other whispering and crying? Send me a challenger or surrender your fortress to me… I would like that.' The horse turned beneath him again, almost spilling him to the ground, but he held on, controlling it once more. He was clearly intoxicated, but then most of the warriors on both sides had been drinking some form of alcohol since the moment they had awoken to lend them strength and fire as tensions were raised.

  The sound of wood grating against wood rumbled as the remains of the fire blackened gateway to the fortress was unbarred and then heaved slowly open, creaking in protest as it moved. A lone horseman emerged riding at a canter and the gates dragged closed behind him. His colours of deepest red and the dull yellow of a late summer flower reflected the Dumnonii tribe. Leather greaves were strapped to his legs and forearms, a plain conical helm with nose guard and cheek flaps protected his head, and at his left side, he clutched an oval shield. He rode well and with confidence, a roar of approval coming from those spectating from the palisade as their champion hefted his own spear in mocking salute of his Briganti opponent.

  'I, Withel, of the Dumnonii answer your challenge. Prepare to enter the Shadowland.' He kicked his mount into action, and it jumped forward as he let out a cry, 'Hahhh!'

  Some fifty paces away the Briganti did the same, 'Yahh, yahhh,' lowering his spear as his horse powered forward, seemingly as eager as he to attack the foe, clouds of snow kicked up by its hooves. The watchers on the palisade screamed and cheered, driving their champion on while warriors emerged from Uther's camp to add their own encouragement, calling their support whilst jeering and taunting those within the security of the fortress.

  The riders clashed amid an explosive confusion of snow and loosened bits of armour. Horses clamouring for footing, warriors swaying trying to keep their seats, a mental reckoning of damage as the shock of the moment seeped past, and the horses walked on. The Dumnonii had lost his shield and swayed upon his horse having almost fallen, whilst the Briganti was shrieking and cursing, trying to pull his pony round to face his opponent once more. Blood was streaming from a wound to his side, but he seemed not to have noticed as he raised his spear once more.

  'Again you stupid goat, find your spear and face me again.'

  'The Dumnonii rode back to retrieve his spear, leant down and scooped it up without dismounting or slowing, then held it above his head as more enthusiastic cheers echoed from the crowd on both sides. The riders wheeled their horses and rode at each other again.

  'Keep the challenges going, take the fortress if the opportunity presents itself and make sure you burn his gate again tonight.' Uther mounted his horse and cast an eye to the two warriors who had just clashed for the second time. The Briganti was down, rolling in the snow, his horse which had cantered a little further had stopped running and was now looking back at its fallen rider. The Dumnonii, although still mounted, was slumped in his saddle and looked to be wounded.

  Uther shook his head and mumbled, 'At least while the single combat continues there are not hundreds being injured or slain. I wonder if the Duc would deign to match swords with me?'

  'I doubt it very much, but perhaps we have someone here who may be able to answer that question,' said Merlyn as he rose from his seat on the log. Uther and the gathered Council all looked on as two warriors pushed a female Dumnonii forward. She was a warrior, as could be seen from the oddments of armour she wore, yet she carried no weapon.

  'I was leaving, returning to my village when I was captured by your men, I decided that I have no appetite for this conflict.' The Dumnonii slumped on the log and tried not to be distracted by the fire. She was obviously cold and the flames of the fire danced amongst glowing embers that gave off a comforting heat, but she was being questioned by her King and knew she must give him her full attention, even so, she edged a little closer.

  Uther leant forward and smiled, trying to put her at ease. 'You have not been captured; we are not at war with your tribes. I asked my men to bring me some of the warriors that we saw leaving the fortress so that I could ask a few questions, most we are allowing just to leave unmolested. I apologise for delaying you, but you can depart for your village just as soon as you have warmed a little and we have had a chance to talk. I am Uther, what is your name?'

  The warrior glanced about at the few people gathered around her, Sir Ector, Merlyn, and a few others, before looking back to Uther.

  'My name is Rozen, Sire, and I know who you are. I fought close to you when we met with the Saxons last Samhradh. It was a hot, still day and there was a strong Saxon force, but we had little fear because it was you who led us that day. I was not one hundred paces from where you sat your horse.' She smiled as she remembered. 'I can recall seeing you riding a white horse and us listening to your fine words before the battle, telling us they were no match for the warriors of the tribes. We stole a victory from the Saxons that day, but I also lost a good friend.' Her smile dropped and she drew in a breath, to stare at her feet for a moment before looking back up to Uther. 'I don't understand what's happening here, why we are being asked to oppose you?' She sniffed and shook her head. 'I have a sister with child and my little brother talks of taking up a spear alongside me, but he is only ten summers, he needs me, my family needs me and I don't want to be here.'

  'I'm sure you are not alone thinking like this. We have seen quite a few warriors leaving Isca during the night. The Duc's hold upon his warriors must be slipping, do you think many would follow him into battle against us?'

  The girl glanced up at Uther and then back down to her feet. 'Many don't comprehend why they might be told to fight you, but the Duc Gerlois is our Lord. He has been a good Chief and brought us prosperity; many will still follow him… but not all of us.'

  'I do appreciate your situation,' said Uther, 'I understand the confusion and I don't blame any of you. This whole conflict is beyond the understanding of the best of us. Duc Gerlois has much to answer for. Is he with his family in Isca? We have seen one of his daughters upon the wall with him, but no others.'

  'The Duc keeps to himself in his hall doing his trading, and yes I think I have seen his daughter, but they do not come out much, it is too cold… too cold for them, they are not warriors.' She smiled.

  'Will you tell me where in Isca their hall is?'

  'It is close to the trading square in the centre of the settlement; that's no secret. It's the largest hall; there are two side by side. Can I go now? I just want to return to my village.'

  'Yes of course, and thank you, Rozen.' Uther glanced around and beckoned to a waiting warrior. 'Please guide our friend here through our ranks and onto the path to her village.'

  The girl smiled her thanks and headed off with the warrior.

  'So what did we learn there, Uther?' Merlyn watched the girl departing and took her place on the log.

  'We know that they are not happy with their situation, but we also know that we will have to fight. I want you to create one of your potions.' Merlyn raised an eyebrow in question, but Uther continued. 'I remember some years ago, during the winter solstice celebration, that you produced some magical branches that burnt long and fiercely for our entertainment. They spluttered and smoked and almost set the hall on fire, rather impressive.'

  Merlyn nodded his head and then smiled, stroking his long beard as he remembered. 'That was several years ago, yes, and I recall that they were quite hard to put out once the flames had got good and started. It is still something I would like to work on a little more, but I imagine we are talking about this because you want me to cover the Duc's gate with a solstice flame, not for me to entertain your warriors. I might be able to come up with something, but I cannot guarantee that we will not burn the whole of Isca to the ground, if we do, I don't think it will make us very popular.' Merlyn frowned and thought for a moment before continuing. 'It is a good idea. Let me see what I can come
up with; I have most of the necessary ingredients to make a small amount. It might be rather fun… what colour would you like it to be?' He raised a bushy eyebrow in question and then shook his head as Uther frowned at him. 'I shall set to it immediately, Uther.' He stood up and headed towards the small hut he had constructed with the other Druids, mumbling to himself as he walked away.

  Morgana skipped along the walkway gazing out at the vast encampment of warriors surrounding the settlement. She wasn't sure what was happening, but it was all very exciting, much better than being stuck with her mother and sisters in boring old Tintagel. She knew it was best to keep away from her father. He was busy talking of trade with the man with the strange accent and instructing his warriors about protecting the walls and gateway. She had heard him talking with Peder, the man who organised things for father, saying that the King would leave shortly, and trade would continue presently. She hoped they wouldn't leave too soon; it was exciting seeing them out there and she hadn't minded in the least when the slingers had shot stones at them after her father had been talking with the King. She stepped to the side as a group of warriors pushed past, there leader growling at her to get off the wall, but one of the women in the group flashed her a smile which she returned. The warriors were heading towards the gate where much of the activity was taking place, as it was where her father shouted down to the King when he came out to speak, maybe it was going to happen again?

  'Get out of the way, girl.' She stood aside as three more warriors pushed past. 'You shouldn't be here, get down somewhere safe before you catch a stone.'