Jack Whyte - Uther

She turned to her women, who were beginning to find their voices, whispering among themselves. But before she could even begin speaking to any of them, a raised voice from outside the tent announced that their cots and bedding had arrived. And shortly after that, while they were setting up their sleeping arrangements, another message came that their latrines had been finished and were in working order.

It was long after dark and the lamps were guttering low before the women got to bed that night, and before she fell asleep, Ygraine wondered what was happening to Morgas.

Even as the thought occurred to Ygraine, Morgas was alone in Uther's impressive campaign tent. Uther had conducted her there personally, accompanied by two guards carrying torches, and as one of the guards went about lighting a number of oil lamps, he had shown her how the space within the tent was divided by a T-shaped partition of leather walls so as to create three chambers, the front one twice the size of the two at the rear. The main partition, made of thin, supple, lightly oiled leather and reaching head high, stretched across the entire width of the tent between two poles, save for a space at each end that permitted access to the sleeping cubicles behind. The two rear compartments were barely separated from each other by a second, similar screen, strung between two more poles in the ground, that divided the space equally, the pole at one end almost touching the rear wall of the tent, while the other reached close to the lateral partition, leaving sufficient space for a body to pass from one cubicle to the other without having to go all the way around to the other entrance. Each compartment contained a simple military cot and footlocker, and a collapsible washstand that held a jug and a basin made of fired clay. The larger space at the front of the tent held a plain, large table and a smaller one that served as a washstand, with a basin and a ewer of water and a wooden rail mounted on one side from which hung a strip of towel. Then there were a wooden chair with arms, a three-legged stool, two more footlockers and a device of crossed poles fashioned to accommodate armour and clothing that was not in use. Uther led her directly into the sleeping chamber on the right and waved his thumb towards the cot.

'You will sleep here. I will be there, on the other side of the wall."

Her lip curled in scorn. "You will be there, will you? And for how long will you remain there? Do you expect me to sleep in peace, lulled by your solemn word alone that I will not be molested? How big a fool do you think I am, sir?"

One of his eyebrows rose, but for a long time he made no response other than a small, sardonic twitch of his lips that might have been the beginning of a pitying smile. Finally his head moved very slightly in the negative and the smile grew slightly larger. "Lady, I have no expectations of you at all, and your foolishness is already demonstrated by your marriage to the self-styled King of Cornwall. Have no fears for your chastity, for had I wished to have you in my bed, that is where you would now be. Bear in mind you are my prisoner. And on that same point, do not attempt to leave this tent. There will be guards outside at all times with orders to restrain you if necessary, and if that means you have to spend most of your nights gagged and trussed up with ropes, so be it. The choice is yours." He nodded in dismissal to the two waiting guards and they saluted and withdrew. Uther looked over to her. "Do you have any questions?"

She threw back her head defiantly, presenting her heavy, proud breasts for his inspection. "You say you have no interest in despoiling me. Why, then . . . by what right do you separate me from my women?"

"By my own right as your captor." He did not deign to cast as much as a glance towards her breasts but kept his eyes fixed on hers. "You will be permitted to spend some time with your women each day. Three or four may come at a time, but no more than that, to visit you here. They may stay with you for a maximum of two hours each time. None of them, however, will have any access to your bodyguard or to any male member of your retinue or escort. Be warned on that, and make sure you discourage them from attempting to defy that rule. It will be hard on anyone caught trying to communicate with your people outside.

"Nemo is the name of the commander of your guards. He is a decurion in my personal guard, and I trust him implicitly." He smiled again, a tight, wintry little smile containing little amusement. "Your . . . virtue . . . will be safe from him, as well, as his will be from you and any wiles you might think to deploy against him. I warn you, Nemo is not seducible, so do not even think about suborning him. But then, if you feel that you simply must make the attempt in order to demonstrate how irresistible you are . . . well, remember that I warned you."

He looked around the tent, noting that the lamps were all burning brightly and steadily. Satisfied, he looked back at her and nodded.

"They should be bringing you some food soon, and I will make sure that someone brings you a jug of hot water before you retire. Sleep well."

Then, before she could think of a single thing to say to arrest him or to put him in his place, he spun on his heel and walked away, out of the tent, leaving her fuming and decidedly out of sorts.

Morgas was not accustomed to having men ignore her physical attractions. Since the days when womanhood first began to emerge in her, she had been blessed not only with a winsome, lovely face and soft, wide, sensual lips, but with high, heavy breasts and a narrow back and waist that swelled out to lushly rounded hips above long, clean-lined legs. All males lusted after her at one time or another, she knew, and most of them did it all the time, devouring her with hungry eyes. That was something she had come to take for granted over the years, and now she expected no less. Even the King, Gulrhys Lot, had fallen under her spell after only a very short time, and no man to whom she herself had fell attracted had ever refused her, let alone ignored her, as had this upstart Cambrian. She consoled herself by planning exactly how she would behave at their next encounter and what she would say to him, how she would spurn his approach and shrivel him with disdain.

What she was completely unprepared for, however, was that it would be three entire days and nights before she saw him again.

On the morning after Morgas's "abduction" by Uther, the women were surprised to receive a visit from the senior surgeon of the Camulod raiding party, who introduced himself to them as Mucius Quinto and explained his position within Uther's group before offering them his assistance, should any of them have need of his medical services. His visit set off a buzz of scandalized discussion among the women, none of whom had ever heard of professionally trained and educated surgeons or physicians. In their kingdom, all illnesses and medical conditions were treated by those Druids who specialized in herbal knowledge and medicaments. Ygraine held herself aloof from all their talk, thinking instead about Morgas and Uther and wondering what had happened between them.

A short time later, when one of the guards brought word that three women might go and visit "the Queen" in her quarters, Ygraine stood immediately as one of the three. Her eyes never stopped moving, seeing and cataloguing everything there was to see as she and two others were escorted from the command tent to the smaller tent that was Uther's own. Morgas's prison—the King's Tent, as it was called—lay under heavy guard some hundred paces along the riverside on a stony bank above the water in a glade that was surrounded on three sides by thick-growing willows.

Ygraine was more than surprised to find, in answer to her first question, that Uther had not entered the tent at all the previous night, apart from having delivered Morgas there. How could it be that Uther Pendragon, whose monstrous behavior and rapacious sexual appetites were legendary, could have disdained the obvious and available lushness of Morgas's body? She began racking her brains to uncover a potential explanation for such uncharacteristic behaviour from the Pendragon King.