Jack Whyte - Uther

Uther glanced back at them. "No," he murmured. "No . . . I don't think so, not yet. I may have a use for them. Again, Owain, my thanks."

Many things happened very quickly after that, and time itself seemed to accelerate in the frenetic activity of the following months. Late on the evening of Owain's stunning revelation after hours of deep deliberation, Uther sat down and, with great difficulty and much muttering beneath his breath, wrote an important letter to his grandmother in Camulod. Luceiia, he knew, would grasp the situation immediately in its entirety and would see to it that things were done properly thereafter.

The unexpected deaths of his two senior minions would be a crippling blow to Lot's plans, he wrote, far more than any such disaster could ever be to Camulod, or even to himself in Cambria. Camulod had a disciplined army and well-trained deputies in place to step into the gap created by any single person's death, no matter how crippling that death might be. And even here in Cambria, were he struck low, his people were one people, and one or another of his own chieftains would soon step up to take his place in time of need. Not so with Lot. His own Cornish people lived in distrustful fear of him, and his only strength lay in his huge mercenary armies. Therein his major weakness also lay, however, for those mercenary armies had no underlying loyalty to Lot himself, other than that which he had already bought and paid for, and his control of them lay in the hands of powerful leaders like Issa and Loholt. who ruled their men by strength of will and personality, by the power bred from guts and strength and sheer experience, leading their armies to victory, plunder and conquest. Now, with those leaders gone, Lot had two armies of leaderless savages in his domain, and he would be hard put to deal with them. Cuneglas and Ralla, weak straws that they were, would be forever useless, and that left Lot now with no leaders of any stripe.

Based upon all of that and upon the chaos that seemed bound to follow in its wake, it seemed reasonable, he told his friends in Camulod, that there would be no springtime attack against them. But they could not depend on that completely. Lot had the armies, and he might still, by some chance, replace his fallen leaders with new blood. It was a possibility for which they must allow.

His recommendation was that Camulod not relax its vigilance. If, in the coming spring, no attack ensued, the governors of the Colony should be prepared to split their forces, keeping their garrisons in place, although at reduced strength, and dedicating the strongest army they could spare—mixed infantry and cavalry in far greater strength than the raiding force he had led the previous summer—to making a pre-emptive strike, as Balin called it, into the heart of Cornwall, where they might be joined and reinforced by Lot's own Cornish enemies. Uther himself would handle the attack in the west, which he was sure would come as planned, as swiftly and effectively as could be, and then he would bring the finest of his forces, including at least a thousand bows and twice that number of Cambrian clansmen from the Federation, to join the Camulod contingent. By striking swiftly and surely into the turmoil of Lot's anarchic chaos—those words were Balin's, too, but Uther endorsed them completely once he understood what they meant—they might finally be able to unseat the Cornish King and put an end to his rule of terror. He would await the Council's acceptance of his suggestion, he wrote, or their suggested alternatives to what he had proposed.

It was long after midnight by the time the letter was written to his satisfaction, for there was much important detail to be packed into it, and he was determined that nothing would be omitted that might be crucial at a later date. When it was done, he sealed it carefully before he went to sleep.

The following morning, he summoned Nemo to him before dawn and instructed her carefully in what he wanted her to do, then sent her off immediately to retrace his journey to Camulod and Luceiia Varrus.

Then, towards noon, an exhausted messenger arrived with a short letter from Lagan Longhead in Cornwall.

In haste: the country here is plunged in chaos. This may be no surprise to you. Issa and Loholt are both dead. Slain within three days, ten leagues apart. Issa first, Loholt after.

Killers escaped. Two single arm-long arrows used. Word reached us in Tir Gwyn two days after the second death. Uther, father said, as soon as he heard the news. He has cut the heads off the snakes. No attack on Camulod now. No one else to lead the armies. And then he said, Unless—

That was three days ago. G is insane with anger, turning the countryside upside down, searching for the killers, but they should be home by now. Father and I are set to disappear for a time as soon as this is done. At least until the uproar dies away. Well done. Nothing likely to happen now in your southeastern area, but the other attack, we think, will go as planned. More word to come when anything changes.

That was all: no names attached, nothing hazarded beyond reason, although Uther knew instantly that G was Gulrhys Lot. He showed the letter to Garreth, and then he went off by himself again to try to reason out what he must do next in the face of such developments. By the end of the day, he had decided that his initial reactions had been correct and all that remained was to maintain a close liaison with Camulod while bringing his own clansmen to the peak of readiness for the invasion of Cambria in April. It crossed his mind then to be grateful for once that his mountain-bred people set no great store by farming, for they would have no worries about fighting when they should be planting crops.

Mid-April passed with no sign of the invaders, but in the meantime Uther had received a message from Ygraine in Cornwall, written from her dictation by the same trusted priest who delivered it—the first indication Uther had received that Queen Ygraine was a Christian. She was well, she told him, and in good health, her baby due in early June, but the country was in dire condition and the people lived in fear not just for their lives but for their children's future. The murder of his generals had plunged Lot's kingdom into disorder of a magnitude too great to describe. Bereft of their leaders—and it appeared that Issa and Loholt had been revered by their fierce followers—the two armies had revolted and for a space of more than a month had remained beyond Lot's control, burning the countryside and creating havoc among the local clans whose food and provisions they had plundered without hindrance.

Only thanks to the exerted strengths of Cerdic and Tewdric, his last two remaining generals, and by granting the mutineers great tracts of land of their own had Lot been able to establish order again and regain some semblance of authority. And even that had been greatly weakened by the fact that the land he gave to them had been land owned by his own people, so that he was dispossessing his clansmen of their own ancestral homelands to appease the greed of Outlanders whom he himself had brought into those lands. Lot would never recover from that treachery, she wrote, but for the time being he had the strength to override his people's anger and hatred.

There was talk now among the Outlanders of reorganizing their plans and carrying out their invasion of Camulod, but it was yet only talk, she said. New leaders were emerging among their warriors, but none of them had yet won undisputed leadership, and that was not likely to change in the near future. In the meantime, Lot roared and rampaged, black with suspicion and seeing treachery and disloyalty everywhere he looked. He was right in that, but for all the wrong reasons. Somehow, she wrote, in his demented logic, he yet perceived himself as being wronged and believed that all the world was conspiring to bring him down when all he tried to do was for the betterment of those he ruled. His suspicions extended even to her, she said, although she had done nothing, fearing for the child she bore, to incur either his displeasure or distrust, other than write this letter through a trusted friend. She begged Uther to make no attempt to contact her, since she was watched closely at all times and could not leave the walls of Lot's enclosure at Golant. Even her visiting priest had been stripped and searched before being allowed to see her.