Jack Whyte - The Saxon Shore

"First, however, we have a matter of concern to all of us, which must be dealt with now, before anything else." He paused, and every eye in the hall was fixed on him. "Caius Merlyn here returned to Camulod this morning with momentous tidings. I will allow him to pass them on to you himself. Commander?"

I stepped forward and faced the Council. One person shuffled his feet, somewhere in the second row of chairs, and the sound carried clearly.

"Before I deliver my tidings, there is something I would say to all of you, something that is long overdue from me to you." I had their complete attention, because to many of them I was an enigmatic presence nowadays, having been out of my mind, present in body only, for years. Many of them knew me only as Merlyn the reborn, brought back from the verge of death by Luke's medicinal skills. They had not known me before I was wounded. The others had known me in my youth, but the Merlyn they had known for the past few years was another person. I had considered my words carefully, and now I drew a deep breath and spoke them.

"For years now, I have been among you in body only. My mind, my own, real mind, has been elsewhere, smashed into oblivion by a head wound. Know you now, all of you, that it is I, the old and former Caius Merlyn Britannicus of Camulod, now fully restored, who speaks to you today." I waited patiently until the excited exclamations had died down. Before that happened, however, someone began to stamp his feet in applause, and soon the entire hall was filled with the sound of approbation. When it had finally subsided, I continued.

"Thank you, my friends. It is good to be whole again, but you should know I regained my full health, and my memories, intact, slightly more than a month ago. After that, recalling fully who and what I was and am, I set out immediately to find and join my cousin Uther and his armies in the southwest, to help him prosecute the war with Lot. Unfortunately, they had been long gone by that time, and I caught up to them too late." I paused. No one coughed or stirred.

"I bring ill tidings now, I fear, my friends, though some not so ill." I looked around the double circle, seeing each face on its own, separate from its fellows. "The rumours and reports you have heard before today concerning the death of my cousin, Uther the King, Uther Pendragon, Uther of Camulod, are true. Uther was killed deep in the southwest forests of Cornwall after a long, running battle with the enemy—three of Lot of Cornwall's armies. I myself found his corpse and burned it in a pyre where it had fallen. From his finger, I removed his royal seal, the red dragon of his people." I held up the great Pendragon signet for all to see and allowed silence to settle again. "So Uther is gone, and all of us are the poorer for his passing." I paused, looking around the room again, then added, "Lot of Cornwall, too, is dead and he, too, I burned, though in a simple fire. No pyre for him. I found him hanging from a tree, his hands and feet cut off, so that I knew not whether he had choked or bled to death. Suffice that he is dead, and that Camulod need fear his madness no longer." No outbreak greeted this news. The silence held. I continued speaking into it.

"So the Cornish War has ended, even though the last fruits of its madness are still arriving home as I speak. Camulod is at peace again, for the time being unthreatened. It is a time to make repairs, to rest ourselves and prepare for whatever the months to come might hold in store for us. Rest assured, however, that demands will be made upon us in the future, and they might well be greater than all the threats we have stood against to date. The death of Gulrhys Lot is but a breathing space accorded us by God. It is not a final victory and could not be, since our true enemy, the enemy of all we hold in Camulod, does not originate in Cornwall. Our real enemy lives beyond the borders of land and sea that gird this Britain of ours, and wishes only to usurp what we hold dear. The time that lies directly ahead of us must be a time of preparation, of conserving and of husbanding our strengths and rebuilding our forces."

I turned my head towards Mirren. "That is all I have to report, Mirren. Now, if I might add my own urgings to yours, I suggest we adjourn this plenary session to another day, in view of the arrival of our wounded in such large numbers."

Moments later, the meeting had been adjourned until the same day of the following week and I was outside, searching for Titus and Flavius among the throng spilling from the Council Hall, most of whom wished to congratulate me upon my recovery. I located my quarries easily, however, thanks to the visibility of their ornately crested helmets, and soon caught up with them, spiriting them off with me to my aunt's house, where we could speak privately.

By the time we had arrived there, the rituals of meeting after a long parting had been disposed of, and I had informed them of my own activities and what I had learned since my return. They digested my words in silence until we had entered my aunt's house and were seated around the glowing brazier in the family room, each nursing a cup of wine. Both men, initially, were ill at ease in this sanctum sanctorum of Luceiia Britannicus, but she herself welcomed them cordially and then sat silent in a corner, listening to what we discussed. I wasted no time in coming to the centre of what concerned me.

"Very well, gentlemen, let's talk about priorities. Something has to be done about these factions, the Farmers and the Artisans as they call themselves, and it looks as though I am going to be the one who has to do it. You agree?"

They both nodded solemnly. "Aye," Titus said. "Your father, had he been alive, would have stamped them out before they had a chance to form themselves, and so would you, had you been in any condition to recognize what was afoot. As it stands today, no one else has had the power, or the guts, to do anything."

"Aye, well, that's in the past. It's the future that concerns me now. Lucius Varo I can understand. He stands to gain strength by denying his assistance to the Colony unless it meets his conditions, and he seeks to bolster his own influence and standing as a leading Colonist and citizen. That, I think, may be easily dealt with. But what about this Ironhair? What does he hope to gain, and how?" Both veterans were gazing at me stolidly, accepting that my question was rhetorical and that I was about to answer it for them. I smiled at them. "I am asking you seriously, my friends, and in good faith, because I had never heard of or seen the man until this morning. I know where he came from and how he won his place in Council, and I have no difficulty with any of that, nor can I see anything reprehensible in his conduct. What I cannot see, however, is how, and to what ends, he built the power base he now so obviously holds. What does he hope to gain in forming such a group?"

Flavius began to say something about Ironhair merely opposing Varo, but I cut him short.

"No, I won't accept that, Flavius. If his concern were merely to thwart Varo he could do that openly in Council, using the full strength of the voting body. That will not suffice as an explanation. The man has formed a group of partisans; thirteen of them, I counted today. If Varo's group consists of fourteen toadies, then Ironhair would need only two of the remaining thirteen councillors to keep him firmly in his place. The corollary is that he could command fifteen votes without forming his own group, these Artisans. Something stinks. So again I ask you, what does he hope to gain? What's his objective?"

The two old soldiers looked at each other and shook their heads in unison, admitting they did not know.

"Fine," I said, accepting that. "We'll find out soon enough, because I intend to bring these matters to a head, and very soon. Now, tell me about the garrison. What's our strength?"