Conquest - Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Time passed slowly for Arthur that day. The cheerfulness of the cloudless blue sky was fitting for any summer day but did nothing to warm the cold of the late autumn afternoon. Snow would begin to fall soon and Arthur dreaded it. Winter was harsh and difficult to travel in when the snow piled up four or more feet. If he lived to tell the tale of being captured by King Thomas he would undoubtedly lose men to the cold even as they went out to battle. Such things happened every year.

Arthur and Gawain passed time pacing about the encampment, not venturing too far, but taking stock of the resources Thomas had at his disposal. They agreed that it was a small fort, good for offering food, shelter, and rest for men who patrolled the borders between Thomas and Uther’s kingdoms but not large enough for an invasion. They played a few games of chess but Percival refused to join them. He elected to remain alone in the tent he shared with Gawain, brooding over what he viewed as mistakes in his past.

It had been dark for a couple of hours when Merlin turned up to lead Arthur to dine with King Thomas. Gawain clapped him on the shoulder as Arthur donned a scratchy but warm cloak. 

“If he kills you, I’ll die trying to kill him,” Gawain vowed.

Merlin snorted in laughter. “I doubt any killing will happen during dinner. Thomas is a civilized man, not a barbarian like Uther Pendragon.”

Merlin stared hard at Arthur, daring him to defend his father. Gawain opened his mouth to respond but Arthur silenced him with a raised hand.

“We should get going. We don’t want to keep His Majesty waiting, do we?” Arthur said. He looked back at Gawain. “I’ll bring you and Percival something sweet for desert.”

“Make sure she has dark hair. Oh, I know! How about that pretty little cunt you used earlier today?” Gawain said, smirking at Merlin.

Arthur closed his eyes and moaned as Merlin shoved pushed past him. He held up a hand and said something unintelligible. Gawain soared through the air, going more than ten feet before landing with a painful grunt on the frozen soil.

“Please, wait!” Arthur pled as he rushed to put himself between Gawain and Merlin.

“That was the king’s daughter he insulted!” Merlin shouted. He was skinny, Arthur noted, but wiry and undoubtedly stronger than he appeared. Even without magic he could probably do some damage in a fight.

“He was out of line. I will discipline him myself. Just please, no more magic, and don’t tell King Thomas. Gawain can be foul mouthed and stupid but he’s loyal—to me I mean—and he meant no harm personally to Lady Guinevak, I’m sure. Please…let me deal with him.”

“I want him lashed.”

“I’ll die before I let you flog me, warlock,” Gawain swore, getting up stiffly from the ground.

“Oh, Gawain…” Arthur aimed several curses at his cousin and raked his fingers through his hair.

“I cannot flog him,” Arthur said.

“He will not speak of Lady Guinevak in such terms and escape proper punishment.”

“No food,” said Arthur, thinking quickly. “Do not feed him tonight or all day tomorrow.”

“Your other knight will share his food with this one,” Merlin said.

“Then do not feed either of them,” Arthur suggested.

“That isn’t fair to Perce!” Gawain shouted.

“Then you should have thought before you opened your mouth to speak against Lady Guinevak!” Arthur shouted.

“I’m putting him in the stocks. Neither man will eat until supper tomorrow,” Merlin said.

“Agreed,” Arthur said quickly.

Merlin was still hot with anger as he and Arthur moved away, heading into the darkness of the tree line. Arthur looked back at Gawain, who watched after them with a miserable look on his face. Arthur prayed that Gawain had learned a lesson about keeping control of his tongue but he doubted it. Gawain was an incorrigible hothead.

 Merlin called over a couple of guards and issued the orders for Gawain’s punishment, including the order not to feed Percival lest he try to sneak food to Gawain. Once that was done they started off toward King Thomas’s tent. The path to the tent was lit with spheres of fire that floated in mid-air. They burned brightly, and when Arthur held a hand up to one he felt welcoming warmth against the palm of his hand.

Four tents had been set up in the forest between the trees. One tent took up most of the small clearing. Three more sizeable tents, each one easily ten times the size of what Arthur had been provided with, could be seen spread out on either side of the main tent. Arthur supposed the biggest tent acted as King Thomas’s court while he was out in the field, away from his castle.

“Don’t attempt to figure out which tent belongs to the king,” Merlin warned. “If you make an attempt on him—”

“I’m not a fool, Merlin. I wouldn’t dare. I wish to come out of this alive and whole,” Arthur assured him.

Merlin preceded Arthur inside and announced his arrival. Five people were already seated, two of whom Arthur could immediately place.  The main table that had been set up directly opposite the tent entrance was long enough for five men, though only three were seated at it. King Thomas sat in the center. Queen Minerva sat to his left.

On Thomas’s right sat a skinny, pallid man with beady black eyes and a balding pate. The little hair he had was graying and greasy. He had a scraggly, unkempt beard covering a weak chin. Though Arthur had never met him, he assumed this man was Vortigern.

Two other tables had been set up to face one another, set up long way at the ends of Thomas’s table to form a U shape. On the table to Arthur’s left were an array of foods and servants standing ready to serve.

Seated at the table on Arthur’s right were two young women. He recognized Guinevak from her earlier visit. Beside her sat a woman who truly captured Arthur’s attention. He knew she must be Thomas’s eldest daughter, Guinevere. Guinevak possessed her mother’s exceptional beauty and grace, but Guinevere possessed her father’s nobility and sense of strength. She wasn’t the beauty that her mother and sister were, but she was striking and lovely all the same.

Guinevere…She was a warrior and a lady, renowned as an archer with unrivaled skill. She was known to be fierce and was called her father’s greatest asset, even more so than Merlin and his dragons. Something about the proud line of her straight back and the unwavering steadiness of her brown eyes stirred something deep inside Arthur.

This was a woman not to be trifled with. This was a woman who could possibly equal him on the battlefield. This was a woman who could not be easily conquered, and Arthur knew, in that moment, that he wanted Guinevere more than anything else in God’s creation.

*****

Dinner was an uncomfortable, overly polite affair. On the surface the seven of them looked like old friends enjoying a reunion after a long absence. Underneath, however, the truth of Arthur’s circumstances were not forgotten. Thomas was the enemy, no matter how civil his behavior toward Arthur and his men. He gave quarter to magicians and their familiars. He could not be trusted.

So Arthur told himself.

Merlin, who sat to Guinevak’s right, leaving Arthur sitting between the two princesses, was as much a threat, if not more, to Uther’s interests as Thomas was. This was Merlin, a messiah among his kind. He had a kingdom of his own within Thomas’s realm, and it consisted of all people who possessed magic within, people who used it, trusted it, and wished to see it free across the nation. They all answered to Merlin. Even Nimue, who had been hailed for decades as the most powerful priestess of the Old Religion, conceded Merlin’s superiority and unparalleled powers.

As Arthur cut his meat and engaged King Thomas in conversation, he wondered how his father’s army hoped to prevail against Thomas when he had such an advantage. It was true that Uther hypocritically used mercenaries who possessed magic to give his army a fighting chance, but they had no one, no thing, that could compare to Merlin and his dragons.

Eventually Arthur’s eyes wandered to Guinevere, who sat beside him cutting her meat into small bites and studiously ignoring him. Guinevak chatted with Merlin, trying to convince him to treat her to a display of fireworks after dinner.

“At least have your dragons do something entertaining,” she begged, simpering.

A foot suddenly touched the inside of Arthur’s calf. He looked up. Guinevak was still talking with Merlin, staring at the young magician with big, brown eyes full of youthful desire. He couldn’t understand why. Merlin was terribly skinny with messy hair, floppy ears, and frighteningly pronounced cheekbones.  Perhaps magic made him an interesting lover and that was why Guinevak was completely taken with him.

“Magic is not to be used for tricks, and I will not subject my dragons to the humiliation of being forced to entertain humans.”

“What do you mean by ‘entertain humans’? You say that as though it’s something disgraceful,” Guinevak pouted. 

“You see dragons as filthy, fire breathing beasts. They see humans as just filthy, not to mention extremely dangerous, beasts. With the exception of me, dragons believe humans are a scourge upon the earth, wild and frightful, much like they appear to you.”

The foot crept above Arthur’s knee. He looked away from Merlin, shocked at this new insight into dragons, and found Guinevere looking at him. Her eyes darted away, and he knew that it was her foot that crept up his thigh. He smiled.

“Something amuses you, Pendragon?” Vortigern caught Arthur smiling at Guinevere and took offense.

“Just what Merlin said about the dragons,” said Arthur.

“What was so amusing about that?” Merlin asked defensively. The foot slid away from his thigh. It had been so tantalizingly close to his—

“Well?” Merlin pressed.

“Nothing was amusing. I just…I’m surprised by the revelation is all. This is the first time I’ve ever considered how people might appear from a dragon’s perspective.”

“Yet I’m sure this newfound knowledge does nothing to make you respect them as intelligent creatures with feelings and—”

“Merlin,” Thomas said warningly. Out of respect for the king, Merlin dropped the subject and resumed his banter with Guinevak.

“So, tell me how you came to be in my territory, Arthur,” Thomas asked, focusing on Arthur and setting down his fork.

“It was a mistake, My Lord. My men and I were checking the border towns and we wandered too far north, into your lands. We didn’t realize our mistake until we came upon your totems. By that time the dragons had spotted us and we panicked.”

Thomas nodded and studied Arthur. “Merlin, what do you make of his explanation?”

“It fits with what I witnessed while patrolling from the sky,” Merlin agreed. “Though he could be lying.”

“I am not lying. I understand what it means to intentionally cross your borders without invitation, Your Majesty. I would never break the treaty intentionally.”

“Yet intentions do not excuse foolishness,” Vortigern said. “You can unwittingly step into a snake pit but you will die if you are bitten all the same.”

“You liken His Majesty’s kingdom to a pit of snakes, do you?” Arthur retorted.

Vortigern’s face suddenly looked pained, as though he’d bitten his tongue. Guinevere, Arthur noted, had an almost unnoticeable smirk on her face. Almost unnoticeable. Arthur felt his chest puff up.

“Of course not!” Vortigern groused. “I meant that just because you do not—”

“We know what you meant,” Thomas said. Even he looked mildly amused by Arthur’s dig. “Swear to me, on your good name, Arthur Pendragon, that you did not intentionally violate the treaty I have struck with your father.”

“My Lord, really! He’ll just lie to save his own neck! This is an act of war,” Vortigern protested.

“War is exactly what will follow if I wrongfully execute Uther’s only son,” Thomas reasoned. He looked at Arthur with cool, steady eyes. “Well, Arthur? Do you swear it?”

“I swear, Your Majesty, my men and I did not intentionally violate the treaty you have struck with my father. We came across your borders quite by accident and I am deeply sorry for my transgression.”

Thomas smiled and bowed his head. “I believe you. I also forgive your transgression. You and your men are free to go on the morrow. I do hope that word of your kind treatment while in my custody will reach your father.”

“Indeed it will, My Lord,” Arthur promised. He bowed his head, doubting his father would care how kindly Thomas had treated him. Uther would use his son’s capture as an excuse to declare the treaty broken and wage war.

Arthur’s heart was heavy at this knowledge. He’d sparked war, though he knew his father would have eventually moved against Thomas regardless. Arthur just didn’t like the idea of being used as Uther’s excuse for further bloodshed.

“Merlin, see Arthur back to his tent. Make certain he and his men have plenty of warming coals and extra blankets to keep warm tonight,” Thomas ordered.

“My Lord,” Merlin acknowledged, bowing his head. Arthur’s stomach clenched. He hoped Merlin wouldn’t tell the king of Gawain’s earlier foolishness, and thankfully the wizard was true to his word. They left the tent without the king being any the wiser of Gawain’s punishment.

“I will retire as well, father,” Guinevere said, speaking for the first time that night. She had a lovely voice. It was very soft, like fine linen, and Arthur wondered what it would sound like in his ear as he laid kisses upon her neck.

Guinevak stood and looped arms with Merlin before turning to her father. “Father, has it ever occurred to you to marry Guinevere or I to Arthur? A marriage would surely bring peace between you and Uther.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Guinevak,” Merlin groused.

Thomas heaved a longsuffering sigh. “Good night, child,” was all he offered in response.

Chapter two

Chapter four