Jack Whyte - Uther

A short time later, a trooper, whom she identified from his armour as some kind of officer, approached the women, leading a ten-man squad and a heavy wagon pulled by four heavy horses. He scanned the ground around them and then chose a spot halfway between where the women were standing and the edge of the river. He then began issuing orders and indicating where and how he wanted certain things done, and his troopers moved quickly to do his bidding.

None of the other women paid much attention to what was happening at the outset—there were far too many other interesting sights to attract their attention—but Ygraine was fascinated to see the straight-faced concentration shown by the troopers toiling in and around the big wagon. She walked closer to where they worked, unnoticed by any of them or by anyone else, and leaned against the gnarled trunk of an ancient hawthorn as she waited to see what they would do. And there for two hours she remained as they unloaded from the wagon a bewildering number of poles of various sizes, bale after bale of leather, bundles of metal pins or pegs and wooden pulleys and what seemed like miles of rope. Out of all that chaos, the troopers created a soaring edifice of roped leather sheets, the sight of which was breathtaking. It was a tent unlike any other that Ygraine had ever seen, larger, more spacious and more carefully crafted. She guessed that it might be a Roman command tent, but only because she had heard of such things and had listened skeptically as others had sought to describe their virtues and dimensions. The panels were of the finest, hand-tanned leather, sewn with double seams and then carefully waxed for weatherproofing, increased durability and extended use. She noted that the sides, and even some of the roof panels, were vented with hanging, overlapping flaps that could be opened to the weather in clement times, either rolled up and tied in place or propped open on long, thin sticks that slotted into pockets sewn to receive them. She knew that her husband would have shrivelled with envy to see such a thing.

Ygraine counted twelve tall structural poles around the outer perimeter of the tent, each of them an arm's length longer than the height of a tall, helmeted man, and there was an additional, inner square of four more, each of those thicker than the exterior poles and set four full paces from its neighbours. These raised the roof fully half as high again, and then finally, in the very centre of the edifice, was one enormously tall, strong pole that was almost as thick as her waist through its base. This central pillar was constructed to break down into manageable lengths, so that it could be quickly assembled or dismantled and carried in a single large wagon. When it was erected, a suspended, circular collar of some kind ringed the lop of this pole, and to that were attached the leather panels that formed the highest sections of the roof. Everything, it seemed—all the stretched skins of the walls and roof and all the poles themselves—was secured with ropes wound through pulleys and attached to heavy iron pegs hammered deep into the ground.

Ygraine assumed, quite naturally, that the tent was being erected for the King, Uther Pendragon, so she was more than surprised when Huw Strongarm advised Morgas that he was placing it at the disposal of her women. At first Ygraine thought he was mocking them, and so, to her credit, did Morgas. But it quickly became plain that he was not, and so Ygraine said nothing, merely gazing at Morgas and nodding her head almost imperceptibly to indicate that she should accept the concession as graciously as she could.

Now night was falling quickly, and the women were gathered together in the centre of the tent, grouped around the brazier that had been carried in by two of Huw Strongarm's troopers and placed beneath a wide, open roof flap that allowed the smoke to escape. Lamps had been lit and torches guttered in iron baskets on poles stuck in the ground. Morgas was the only one seated, and the others were all grouped about her. Ygraine, standing close behind the taller woman, had undone the lengths of Morgas's hair and was preparing to brush it. Over by the main entrance, one woman stood alone, peering out into the gathering night. Suddenly the watcher tensed.

"There's someone coming. I think it's the Cambrian!"

The group of women went still as soon as she spoke, and in the sudden hush, the guttering of the flames in the lighted lamps around the large space could be heard quite clearly. Morgas, the tallest of them all, turned completely around and glanced up, wide-eyed, at Ygraine. But the real Queen had already taken charge, turning towards the woman who had spoken and motioning to her to step away from the doorway.

"Remember, all of you," she said, her voice low-pitched and calm. "No one looks at me. Morgas is the Queen." She stepped back immediately, away from Morgas, at the same time waving for another of the women to step forward. The one called Dyllis took her place, holding a hairbrush, and immediately began brushing Morgas's hair.

She had barely begun when the leather flaps of the tent were pulled open and the first of two men entered, stooped over and holding up one arm as if to keep the tent's roof from falling on his head. His face was completely concealed by the bulk of an enormous bronze helmet that was surmounted by a high crest of red- dyed horsehair, but the size of him and something in the way he moved made it clear to her that this was the man called Huw Strong- arm. Behind him, an even larger man followed, this one Uther, King of Pendragon. This was the first time any of the women had seen him up close, and every pair of eyes in the gathering was fixed upon him, although he was so completely muffled in clothing and armour that there was little of the actual man to see.

The men moved towards the centre of the tent, where Uther stood quietly, making no attempt to speak but simply looking at Morgas and her satellite women. While he looked at Morgas, Ygraine looked at him, absorbing the imposing height of him, emphasized by the bulk of his clothing and armour and the giant shadow he threw on the wall of the high tent.

The tent had seemed enormous until then, but the looming presence of these two tall, cloaked men, in their bulky armour and high- crested helmets, made the space seem suddenly smaller and crowded, and that, in turn, made the men seem even bigger, darker and more menacing. The walls were alive with leaping, flickering shadows, and the heavy cheek-flaps of Uther's helmet made it practically impossible to see his face. Ygraine immediately decided she did not enjoy that at all. She wanted to be able to watch his eyes, to see what he was thinking. And then she experienced the distinct feeling that she herself was being watched, and her gaze moved immediately to Huw Strongarm. Sure enough, his eyes were fixed upon her face, and as he saw her look at him, he nodded. He was standing at a different angle to her than was Uther, and so as he smiled she saw his teeth reflect the light. She ignored him and moved her gaze away quickly, allowing her eyes to wander over the faces of the other women in her party. They were all staring at Uther Pendragon, transfixed.

The silence grew and stretched and no one moved until, finally, Uther bent forward slightly, exaggerating the movement deliberately until it was almost a stoop, and peered down sideways to where Dyllis. the smallest of all Ygraine's women, stood, still clutching her hairbrush. Of all the Queen's women, Dyllis was the most innocent and the most easily shocked, and Uther's elaborate interest in her brought the high colour of embarrassment flooding up into her face. The King held out his hand, one finger extended, in an unmistakable invitation for the young woman to take it. Completely flustered now, she looked rapidly from side to side for guidance from her companions, but none of them would look at her, and Ygraine felt herself grow tense with the anticipation that Dyllis might appeal to her directly. Finally, however, Dyllis reached up and took hold of Uther's hand. Keeping his arm stretched high, he led her gently out from where she stood and took her sideways across the floor of the tent towards one of the four central supports. He held her quietly in place with one upraised hand and then looked directly at Ygraine, who was now standing closest to Dyllis, and beckoned to her with his other hand, bidding her approach.