Jack Whyte - Uther

Lagan was already there, and when Uther arrived they gathered around the dining table. There was no formality in the sealing arrangements, save that the Queen's two women sat together at one end of the table and Ygraine herself sat at the head. Uther approached the table as eagerly as anyone, for he had eaten very little since the previous night and was sharp set with hunger.

Only when the edges had been chewed from their appetites did conversation begin, and then it was desultory, confined to mundane things, until Uther asked Herliss to tell him about how the Queen's party had managed their "escape" and their eventual homecoming.

It had been a simple matter, Herliss began. After Uther's departure with Popilius Cirro and the main body of the raiding party, the skeletal force left behind to guard the camp and look after the remaining prisoners had remained at high alert for twenty-four hours and had then relaxed. The night after that, the escape plan had been put into effect. Once the remaining guards had been "overcome" by Nemo's crew, the escapees had made their way out of the valley without difficulty and had managed to win safely back to Lot's main base at Golant within a matter of days. Nemo's group had remained with them for two days and had then left them close by the sea coast, in the professed hope of finding a ship that would carry them to Gaul. None of the Queen's party had thought the fleeing group would survive to reach foreign shores, but they had made no move to interfere with Nemo's intentions. What was far more important was that none of the Queen's bodyguard, including their leader, Alasdair Mac lain, had thought to question any aspect of the affair, and all of them were convinced that they owed their safety and their lives to Herliss and his loyalty and ingenuity. They truly believed, the old man told Uther, that their captors would have killed them sooner or later rather than set them free. All of them had seen the other Cornish prisoners being marched away under guard, never to return.

Uther sniffed when he heard that. "Did any of the others ever return here?"

Herliss grunted. "Aye, well, the false Queen, Morgas, and the rest of the Queen's women were brought back quickly enough once your messengers had delivered your instructions to Camulod to set them free and return them to their homeland. They were here within a matter of two weeks, I would say. Some of your people from Camulod rode with them as escorts and then sent word to Lot that they could be collected from the edges of his land. By the time Lot's people arrived to meet the women, the Camulod troops had gone."

Uther nodded. "Good, that was as I instructed. But I was not speaking of the women. I was wondering about those other warriors of yours . . . the people we set free up on the moors?"

Old Herliss turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "You loosed nigh on a hundred and twenty men—six score, all of them mine. None of them was ever reported seen again."

Uther's forehead was creased in perplexity. "Are you saying they all vanished?"

"Apparently so. Lot pronounced them dead, telling the world they had been foully murdered by you while you held them prisoner, their deaths attested to by the members of the Queen's own bodyguard. None of the missing men had any names, you see . . . at least none that were known and reported to Lot's people. Tragic loss . . . it could have created havoc among my own people here in the south, had not the gap they left been quickly filled. Six score newcomers came wandering into my lands about that time, can you believe that? They even set up house among my folk, adopting and consoling the widows and families of the men who had been killed in captivity."

"That was most amazingly fortunate."

"It was . . . Miraculous, if you really think about it. . ."

Uther glanced around the table and found that everyone was smiling, including the young woman Lydia. He found himself able to look straight at Ygraine now and direct his next question to her. "So tell me, lady, if you will, about your King's reception of the news that you yet lived and had escaped?"

Still smiling, Ygraine looked at Herliss, motioning for him to continue, and he spoke up immediately.

"He took it very well, considering all that he had done to prevent it. As I said at the outset, we went directly from your encampment to his stronghold at Golant, which was, in fact, much closer to where we were than was my own fort of Tir Gwyn, and when we arrived there we found Lot was expected to arrive the following day. That was surprising, for I had anticipated that he might be up on the northern coast, supervising the building of his new fortress at Rosnant."

"Rosnant?" Uther sat up straight. "Lot has a new fortress? When did this come into being?"

Herliss scratched at his beard. "Well, it didn't come into being— the place has always been there. Perhaps you've heard of it as Tintagel? The local people call it that." Seeing Uther's head shake, he glanced wide-eyed at his son, who said nothing. "Well," Herliss continued, "it's a natural, impregnable fortress, completely safe from attack—sits on a spur of land attached to the mainland by only a tiny, impassable causeway that would give a goat trouble and could be defended by a single blind man. Can't be captured by a frontal attack, 'cause it can't be reached. Can't be invested and can't be starved out, because it's surrounded on all sides by the sea. And it can't be attacked from the sea, either, because the cliffs are too high. Supplies can be landed there and carried up the cliffs to feed the defenders, but no attacking force could ever climb up there. Impossible."

Lagan leaned forward and spoke for the first time. "I don't think you need to worry about Rosnant, Uther. It's a defensive place, a place for a last stand. Lot can't be touched there, true, but he can't touch you from there, either. And if he should try to escape by sea, he'll have to keep going until he reaches Gaul or some other land, for there will be no place for him to land here again. The people will back you against him. There is a sickness in our land and its name is Gulrhys Lot. People will go to any lengths to be cured of it, believe me."

"But what about the mercenaries? Seems to me there are more of those in Cornwall than there are Cornishmen."

Herliss spoke up again. "You might be right there, but they are Outlanders, and in the fight for our own lands, our folk will win. Of course, you will assist us."

"I will? When?"

"Wherever and whenever it is possible, I presume, since we both seek the same end."

Uther decided that he did not yet want to pursue that. "Tell me about this other place, his stronghold, Golant. It's north of here, is it not?"

"Well, more east than north, but aye, it lies above us some thirty miles along the coast. What do you want to know about it?"

"What kind of place it is . . . how strong. Is it takeable?"

"By siege, you mean? I doubt it. It's one of the old circular enclosures built before the Romans came. Two earth ramparts, one inside the other with a ditch between. Main entrance in the east. There the inner rampart remains circular, with a simple gate leading to the central enclosure, but the outer ring extends eastward and becomes more pointed, like an egg-shape, making a space, entirely surrounded by high ramparts, that can be used to amass forces for a raid outside the gates, or to contain and slaughter any enemies who might get by the first, outer gates."

"This outer gate, is it hinged?"

Herliss blinked for a moment in confusion, but then he realized what Uther was asking him and his face cleared. "You mean like a door might have hinges? No, it's not a gate in that sense. It has no doors. In order to understand that, you have to begin with the rampart, the outer wall. D'you know the Roman measurement they call a pes?"