Jack Whyte - Uther

He was still in the same frame of mind when they reached Camulod, and as far as they could see, nothing had changed by the time he rode out with Titus and Flavius, Merlyn, Donuil and Lucanus to inspect the perimeter of the Colony's holdings and assess and examine the quality of the army Camulod had set aside for Uther's use.

Uther himself felt no burden upon him, other than the familiar one of responsibility and a novel, unaccustomed need to conduct himself with great caution and much forethought in the adventure he was about to undertake, for the political situation within the troubled land of Cornwall was not one that could be lightly dismissed by an advancing army from outside. He was about to launch a hostile incursion into that territory, and while it wouldn't be his first, he had never before faced such a dangerous Cornwall, teeming as it was with unsettled native Cornish troops—factions and private armies—whose loyalties were now highly unpredictable. When Lot fell, as he undoubtedly would in the near future, the lighting among the Cornish warlords would likely escalate into full and open war, depending upon who emerged from the ruck, fighting for dominance. That struggle in itself was dangerous enough to demand a cautious approach, but the risk of catastrophe was increased indescribably by the presence of the thousands of leaderless but highly volatile mercenary Outlanders who had formed the armies of Issa and Loholt. These might swing their support at any time to back any one of the contending warlords, depending upon who was able to negotiate most tellingly with them. Or instead they might produce new leaders from among their own ranks, as Ygraine had forewarned, and join forces to overrun Cornwall on their own behalf, crushing the local Cornish opposition.

Eclipsing even his preoccupation with the threat of war within war in Cornwall, however, Uther found himself haunted by the looming spectre of fatherhood. Ygraine would give birth to their son—it had never even occurred to him that the child might be a girl—in a matter of mere weeks, or perhaps even days, and it was not inconceivable that she might have already done so—which meant that he could already have a son and heir living in Cornwall. That, more than any other consideration, was what consistently gave him pause and had led to the unusual distance remarked on by his men.

Uther had been raised and schooled in the formerly Roman and traditionally Camulodian discipline of responsible leadership, where no commander ever lightly risked the lives and welfare of his men. His own life, however, had always been another matter altogether, barely meriting consideration. That it was invariably placed at the disposal of, and dedicated to the safety of, the men who relied on him for his leadership was a simple given, one of the facts of his life that was so much part of him as to be unremarkable. Now, however, for the first time in his life, Uther found himself considering his own vulnerability and mortality, visualizing himself as he truly was in battle: isolated at the head of his own formation, in front of all his men and presenting himself not only as their unmistakable leader, but also as the prime target of the enemy.

From the moment of his discovery that Ygraine was pregnant and Lot had acknowledged her child as his own, Uther had refused even to allow himself to consider that any relationship might ever develop between the child and Gulrhys Lot. He knew that Lot would soon die at his hands, and dead. Lot could make no claim to anyone's paternity. But then, more recently, a new thought had occurred to him: what would happen, he wondered, if he himself were killed, leaving the child an orphan—what then? The child would be as helpless as any other child must be—all of the children who were not his son and heir to Pendragon—for years at the mercy of all the ills that fate could shower upon a fatherless infant until it had grown to the point at which it could begin looking after its own interests.

He did not even attempt to delude himself that Ygraine might make do, left alone. She would be stuck in Cornwall, where being a woman meant being a slave, a chattel, with no more worth or value than her looks might earn for her on any one day. Certainly, a mother might look after a child's basic needs, but the strength and protection of a powerful and caring father was something no child should ever have to live without. It occurred to him that his own father's love for him had been uncommon, and that most of the other fathers he had known and observed had been very unlike Uric Pendragon, unwilling to show open love to their own sons or to anyone else. Be that as it may, he decided that he would be unstinting with his love to his own son. If he lived. If he stopped making a target of himself for eager enemies. If he survived to see his son grow up without the need to grow reliant upon his mother alone.

But if that were not to be, if he were killed in the fighting that loomed ahead in Cornwall, what could he do to ensure his son's welfare then? How could he arrange to have immediate and infallible assistance sent to Ygraine and her son, his son, immediately upon his death? No one knew the child was his except Ygraine herself. Sharing that knowledge with another, any other, meant increasing the risk of the word spreading, and if it spread too far too soon, then Lot would find out, and mother and son would die, long before Uther could reach them.

He could write a letter, a testament, and leave it in trust with his Grandmother Luceiia in Camulod when he rode off to war, with instructions that it was to be opened after his death in battle. He would acknowledge that the child born to Ygraine was his and would leave instructions for the rescue of the boy and his mother, and for their transportation to the sanctuary of Camulod, where they could both live in comfort and prosperity among family who would love them. After that, it would remain only for the rescuers to find the mother and child in the chaos of Lot's Cornwall.

And if that proved to be impossible? How long would it take until the boy outgrew the need for his mother's protection and became strong enough and clever enough to look out for himself? That would be at least fifteen years, he thought, feeling stirrings of panic in the pit of his stomach. But then he thought, well, twelve at least . . . twelve years for a boy to grow smart enough to run and hide, to save his skin. After all, even a tiny tyke like the seven-year- old Nemo could scuttle into hiding. Nevertheless, after seven years living as an orphan in Cornwall, how would the boy ever know that he was born of Pendragon?

Uther felt frustration and anger wash over him, and he knew that thoughts such as these could unnerve him completely. He threw himself into other activities, then, determined to lose himself in their urgencies. No matter what he did, however, the concern for his unborn son's welfare was there in the back of his mind, and the vision of Ygraine smiling at the infant on her knee was always close to the forefront.

By the time he returned to Camulod from his inspection tour of the perimeter defences, he had arrived at a concrete decision: his main priority upon entering Cornwall would be to find Ygraine and her child, separate them from Lot and his creatures and spirit them quickly and safely back to Camulod. Once that had been achieved, and he was sure of their safety in the custody of his mother and grandmother, he could settle in to the campaign properly and give it all the attention it required and deserved. He had able and loyal deputies who could stand in for him at the start of the campaign, until his first, main task—ensuring the welfare of his heir—was taken care of. After that, he would take the reins back into his own hands and, at the head of his cavalry—his own and Camulod's—he would sweep Gulrhys Lot, his presence, his treachery and his armies not merely out of Cornwall but out of the land of Britain.