Jack Whyte - Uther

"Yes, my cousin Merlyn and I first met Lot that long ago, and that is what?—twelve years? thirteen? It was no meeting of like minds, I promise you. He came to Camulod with his father, the old Duke Emrys, and he was loathsome from the outset, trying to dominate and bully Merlyn and me. He was not simply nasty, he was . . ." Uther paused, groping for words. "He was intolerably foul: foul-mouthed and foul-natured; loathsome in all he said and did—and then, on top of and in addition to all of that, he was a braggart and a bully. Well, Merlyn and I had never met a bully we couldn't thrash together, so we were not abashed by this lout from Cornwall. But then he insulted my mother, viciously and inexcusably and in such a way that I could not ignore it, and we fought. He left Camulod right after that, as soon as he grew well enough."

"Did you thrash him that badly?"

"Thrash him? No, lady, I didn't thrash him. We fought with Roman swords. I stabbed him, but unfortunately for everyone, I didn't do the job properly—we were interrupted and stopped by my father before I could finish it."

Ygraine's eyes had grown round. "You would have killed him?"

"I should have killed him. Now there are hundreds dead who might have lived, had I done so." He checked himself, seeing her expression. "What is wrong? Lady?"

She shook her head, a terse, dismissive little gesture. "Nothing is wrong, I think. But much has been wrong, including my own foolish, willful blindness." Her eyes drifted away from him and she sat staring into the middle distance, looking at nothing and seeing only what was in her mind. After a while, she breathed in deeply through her nostrils and sat up straighten "I have been cursing you and everyone in Camulod for three years now, in utter ignorance that my own brother and sister were living happily there with you and your family while I suffered shame and outrage and indignities here, from my own husband." She paused again, frowning, and then turned her frown on him. "You are . . . you are nothing like the monster I was told you were."

Uther held her gaze, his features softened now, and let out a small sigh. When he spoke next, his voice was easy and quiet. You said we two needed to talk, and so I sent the guards away with Lady Dyllis. What, then, did you want to talk about?"

"Just this: Lot will not negotiate to gain me back. He will not, because I mean nothing to him and he has no need of me, so he will count himself fortunate to be thus rid of me, without blame to him. But that also makes me an encumbrance to you—something for which he will be grateful. The only option you can see facing you is to send me back home to my father in Eire in the hope that he will withdraw his support from Lot. Well, that might serve you, but no more than slightly, for my father's few people could hardly be considered a major contribution to Lot's forces. Returning me to Lot, however, is another very real option, one that is potentially invaluable."

"What? I don't follow you."

"Then hear me plainly. I would now return to Lot as a willing spy, on your behalf. In doing so, I could save the life of Herliss—a dear friend for whom I feel responsible—and bring about the downfall of this loathsome man to whom I have been wed. It is a choice easily made, and made already. I see no disloyalty involved in it. In order to command loyalty, one must understand what it is and return it openly in like measure. Gulrhys Lot has never shown a trace of loyalty to anyone that I know of—not to me, not to any of his most faithful followers and most certainly not to any of those over whom he claims kingship. His people live in terror of him and his sick fancies, afraid that some imagined slight of theirs will bring his mercenaries down about their ears, dealing death and destruction to their families, their homes and their few, pathetic possessions."

She had been almost talking to herself, but now she moved her head and looked into Uther's eyes. "These are not idle fears, you must understand that. Lot and this pestilence he has inspired have blighted all of Cornwall. He has surrounded himself with a living wall of mercenary killers who have no regard for anything or anyone, and whose atrocities do not simply go unpunished, but originate, more often than not, with the man who employs them." Again she paused and looked directly at him, her eyes flashing.

"You perhaps believe that my conversion to your viewpoint has been too facile. I can do nothing to alter that or influence your thinking. But until yesterday . . . until now, today . . . I have been able to conceive of no way to make things better. Not only am I a woman, weak enough at the best of times, but I am a woman with no vestige of power or influence. I have been a prisoner for two years now, since long before you captured me. My prison was Herliss's White Fort, to which I had been banished by my husband, and until mere days before we moved into your path I was comfortable there, and thankful to be removed from all my consort's evil. In Tir Gwyn, I was able to avoid my own conscience. There I was able to close my eyes willfully to what was going on in this bright and lovely land in which I now live. I was able to pretend, in truth, that I was in no wise associated with the man who called himself my husband." She stopped abruptly, and a single tear broke from her lashes and cascaded down her right cheek. Angrily she dashed it away.

"And so, Sir King of Cambria, I am now come to the point where I will gladly and willingly make pact with you to end this man's . . . dominion. His tyranny. Gladly and willingly. But if we are to make the most of this opportunity, then it had best be soon." She stopped and peered at him again, her head tilted to one side as though challenging him to take issue with her logic. "Cornwall is not that big a place, and if Lagan is out there as you claim, scouring the country for his father in order to protect his wife and son, he is bound to find you here sooner or later."

Uther nodded. "But I have my cavalry out there harassing him, keeping him away from here."

"I know you have, but how long will they be able to contain him? How large is Lagan's army? Do you know? And how much does he know of your own strength? Does he believe that your entire force is attacking him? Surrounding him? Or might he think, perhaps, that you but play with him to keep him captive wherever he is?"

Uther screwed up his face and shrugged. "I cannot answer that, not yet, although I expect to have that information soon."

Ygraine nodded. "And what about this army of your own that has just arrived, how big is it?"

"Three thousand men."

"You will never keep that secret. Three thousand mouths consume a deal of food."

Uther nodded sombrely. "Aye, they do . . . So, go on with your stratagem. If you escape, what then, and how could it save Herliss?"

"We would seek to avoid Lagan and win back to Lot's stronghold before Lagan can come to grips with you. We could then pretend that Herliss came up with the plan himself and brought Alasdair, the captain of my bodyguard, into it. That way, when Alasdair backs him with no prospect of gain for his own ends, no one could gainsay Herliss's heroism, and Lot would be forced to readmit Herliss to his favour . . .

"Besides, I think Lot would not dare take the risk of offending Lagan any more deeply at this time. Lagan and Herliss have both power and influence, and between them they have many friends. If Lot has taken Lydda and Cardoc, Lagan's wife and son, as hostages, he will not have harmed either one of them, and being Lot, he'll still believe that he is capable of convincing Lagan that it was all a misunderstanding, once Herliss has been restored to favour. The man's monstrous arrogance is not to be believed."

Uther twisted his face up into an exaggerated expression of doubt. "Well, I think you might be wrong there—about Lot's reception of Herliss after the escape. And how could Herliss manage such a coup without it being perceived as obviously false?"