Arthur could see the dark clouds circling over his brother-in-arms.

  “Speak, Vipsanius. You have my ear. We take as much time as we need. Start at the beginning and leave nothing to the imagination.”

  “Yes, my lord. The night of the day you left, the first day we arrived, one of the men assigned to guard the captain of the Nostre Dame, found him in his hold, his throat slit.”

  “Who was guarding him? Our men or the merchants who owned the vessels?”

  “Our men, my lord. Three of our men who have had no transgressions whatsoever. They had fallen asleep.”

  “This is becoming a pattern with our men, Vipsanius. They tend to favor their sleep more than their responsibility.”

  “Yes, my lord. It is something we have to look into. But there is still the important matter of the person who had slit the captain’s throat.”

  “Yes, of course. Do you have any ideas?” Arthur asked.

  “My initial thought was that it was one of the crew from the Bouvet. But that was not possible since they had been on land with us and fell asleep drunk. But still, there is a possibility. However, a rider came upon the camp, the morning of the next day. The day after you rode south.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Well he came as a stranger, but now he seems to have entered your father’s good graces.”

  “Interesting. He must be a charming man. Is he Caledonian?” Arthur asked, innocently presuming that it was a local.

  “No, my lord. He is most certainly not a native of the isles.”

  “Then who is he?”

  “He claims to be the victim of one of your father’s early raids. One that he conducted before you were born. He claims that it was your father’s raid that orphaned him. Your father, in all his wisdom, has decided that he needs to pay reparations to this man and has ordered the man’s tent be built within your family’s complex.”

  “All this in three days?”

  “No, my lord. All this in one hour.”

  “He took one hour to convert the great Uther Pendragon?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “What does my mother have to say about all this?”

  “My lord, if you please, may I leave that up to you to inquire with the Lady Igraine? I do not feel that I have the right to discuss her altercation with your father.”

  “So there was a disagreement between my parents?” Arthur asked, perplexed by how this could have happened.

  “As I said, my lord—”

  “Yes, I know. I will take it up with them.”

  “Lady Igraine has arranged for a feast in honor of your return. It is to commence before noon,” Vipsanius notified Arthur.

  “Well, that’s good. I am famished, but sitting in between my parents while they have been arguing is not what I was looking forward to. But still, nonetheless, I am glad you rode out to tell me what to expect.”

  “My lord, the turn of events with the captain being murdered and the stranger showing up the next day, is highly disconcerting.”

  “Do you really need direction from me, brother?” Arthur asked, smirking in a way that Vipsanius only knew to happen when he was in lofty spirits.

  “I do, my lord.”

  “Prepare the army. Do it under the guise of a scouting party. You are going to have to speak untruths to my father. Are you willing to do that?”

  “If I have to, it will be the first time, but I will do it even if it means death after, as long as you ask it of me,” Vipsanius said.

  Arthur noted the loyalty of his friend. They had served for many years together. Arthur had been there when Vipsanius lost his brother and then lost his wife and son in the same year. His loyalty to the crest of the Five Dragons had been absolute and Arthur knew that he would go to the ends of the earth to do what he had to for Arthur. What Vipsanius did not know was that Arthur would do the same for him.

  “One more thing, my lord,” Vipsanius sought leave to inform his lord.

  “Tell me, brother. What more?”

  “The men of the flotilla have asked me to convey an offer to you. They are willing to sell their ships and their loyalty to the Pendragon Crest.”

  “They are willing to remain in Britannia and join us?” Arthur asked, surprised.

  “Yes, my lord. They and their families back in Paris.”

  “Let me talk it over with my father. What do you think, Vipsanius?”

  “I think they would be a valuable addition to our men. We will instantly have a fleet and that is a key factor to the success of our stay. We are, after all, on an island,” he said, accurately encapsulating the benefits of going along with the proposition.

  10

  Caledonia

  The Highlands stretched from the inlet at the neck of Britannia to the north of the Germanic Sea. The Highlanders, as the men and women of Caledonia were called, were highly passionate and brazenly capable on the field of battle. They were naturally larger in their physique compared to the lowlanders in Demetia, Wales, and all the way down to Land’s End.

  King Fergus ruled the land with an iron fist and an army that was built on the muscle and sinew of the local men. In appearance, the highlanders looked familiar to the Romans who had recently landed on the coast and just south of their border. The Highlanders had not known about it and would not have said anything about it until one of their scouts had made the conclusion that the new arrivals had aligned themselves with the Demetians.

  This news angered the red-faced Highlander king who saw it as an insult rather than a strategic problem or an innocent oversight. Unlike the lowlanders who were dominated by the Demetians, the Highlanders had no wizards and warlocks in their ranks. The only magic they made was the development of an army with ancient weapons and tools that were yet to be defeated by anyone who had tried.

  “Where are they from?” King Fergus boomed.

  “They landed on ships that fly the Merovech flag,” the scout answered as he remained bent on one knee and his face pointed to the cobblestone of the royal court.

  “So they are Franks?”

  “It would seem to reason, my liege, but they do not look Frankish. They are small in size and darker in complexion.”

  “Then where are they from?”

  “I would guess they are from deeper in the continent, my liege,” answered one of the wise men of the king’s council.

  “How many are there in their company?”

  “Men, women, and children number approximately one thousand, my liege,” the scout answered.

  “So they are not a threat?”

  “They do not seem to be, my liege.”

  “But yet they pay me an insult no sooner had they landed on a neighboring land,” the thin-skinned king replied.

  “Father, we should let it be. Instead of sending a war party, why not send them a welcoming party and talk to them? Let us gauge what they have to say before we decide if they are friend or foe. If we attack, then their alliance with the lowlanders would be sealed. If we are friends with them, then maybe we can keep them neutral. Either way, if we are wrong, their numbers are too little for us to be concerned with,” Olivie, the king’s eldest daughter suggested.

  Even the older and wiser men of the council had to agree with her. It was a wise way to go about things.

  At eighteen years of age, she had passed her prime in being betrothed. None of the suitors her father had arranged met her standards and she had let them, and her father, know.

  Olivie was the natural heir to the throne but the laws of the land made it impossible for her to ascend to it. Instead, the man she married would have to change his name and he would be given the kingdom of the Highlanders. It was the way of the north men and it was something that she was interested in changing. There were so many changes she wanted to make but she had to do it in the way least irritating to the council of old men who saw her as a woman who needed to have babies and stay at home. She saw differently.

  “Let me go, Father,” she said out of nowhere as the elders sat discussing the matter.

  “Go where?” the king asked, forgetting her suggestion of a welcoming party.

  “To Inver Ridge, where the newcomers have camped.”

  “Why would you do that?” The forgetful king asked, perplexed by his daughter’s sudden outburst.

  “To welcome them, father,” she said, smiling at him in a way he had always found irresistible and hardly ever turned down. It was the one thing she could do for him ever since she was three years old.

  He looked around and no one dared to refuse the princess. He pondered for a moment, then turned to the commander of his army. “Send a hundred archers, and a hundred cavalrymen to accompany her.”

  “I am going there as a welcoming party, Father, not at the head of an invasion force.”

  “You can dress them up in harvest festival attire if you like, but they will still escort you to the newcomers. Take it, or don’t go. It’s your choice.”

  Olivie smiled. It was better than not going. Taking two hundred men would serve a purpose, she thought. She would just have to alter the way she approached the newcomers. But she could do this.

  “When will you leave?” the king asked.

  “At dawn. I want to be there when the sun breaks the horizon. It would be the fourth day since they landed. It should be enough time for them to have settled down.”

  King Fergus nodded his head.

  “May I take my leave, Father? I have much to prepare for.”

  The king nodded once more, then watched his daughter walk away. When she was far enough, he turned to the head of his army.

  “Commander, in addition to the two hundred men that will escort the princess, I want you to send twenty birlinns, each with fifty of your best sailors, to sail from our northern port and weigh anchor tonight beyond the horizon from Inver Ridge. They are to lay in wait there. Tell the commander of the escort that follows my daughter to send a red flare into the sky if there is a problem, but do not tell him of the naval contingent waiting beyond the horizon.”

  “I understand, my lord.”

  “If they so much as lay a finger on my daughter’s hair, burn all of them down.”

  11

  Attila's Navy

  The new king in Paris waited, as Lispania made his way to the royal chamber. It took some time, but he eventually got there with sleep still hanging in his eyes.

  “Yes, sire? You sent for me.”

  “This is the reason I despise great castles and large palaces,” Attila began, referring to the distance between him and his men and the time it took them to get to him.

  “Indeed, my lord. This is not the way of our people. The longer we stay here, the fatter and dumber we will become.”

  “You are right. That is why I have sent for you. We have a strong navy now. We are able to reach Britannia without the aid of anyone else. Isn’t this so?” The king asked.

  “Indeed, sire.”

  “Then, what are we waiting for? I want a plan by the end of tomorrow. Take stock of the fleet and let us see if we can be victors there as well.”

  “Sire, would it not be better if I go there and scout the land first, rather than push our advantage so soon after victory?” Lispania suggested.

  “The advantage is with us. The men are confident and not yet fat from the spoils of Paris. If we attack now, they will be nimble and energized. If we wait, we will lose our momentum. You have one day to plan, three days to set sail. Make it happen and you will be the admiral of my navy.”

  “Yes, sire. Your wish is my command,” the man who was at the brink of being nobody answered. It was his chance to become a noble. It was his chance to make a name for himself. It was his lifelong dream to see the Romans suffer for his life that they had ruined. He was to be the admiral if successful, but what Lispania fully understood was that he was already in charge of the navy. He did not care if that was a formal title or a temporary one. For now, the might of the Frankish fleet was at his command.

  ***

  At the exact moment he was required to provide a plan, he arrived at the king’s chambers.

  “Sire, if you have a moment, may I interest you in a tour of your navy?” Lispania asked, hoping that Attila would see the benefit of touring the naval yard that was just outside Paris. “We will discuss the strategy on our way there.”

  Attila was indeed impressed with the idea and wondered why he hadn’t thought of it himself. “How will we get there?” he asked.

  “Sire, your palace has a dock where a ship now awaits. It’s an hour away. If we leave right now, and we can as the ship is awaiting your arrival, we will arrive while there is still daylight for you to view the fleet that we will need for the attack.”

  Attila jumped to his feet.

  “Yes, we will leave now. I am ready to go.”

  It was a kind of demeanor that a small boy had when he got his first horse, Lispania thought.

  The two men made their way to the king’s launch and boarded the vessel that would transport them to the naval yard an hour away. There was a heavy presence of Hun soldiers on board. The Frankish sailors were not used to the new king and only conducted their duty under the threat of a watchful Hun army.

  Attila noted the discipline of the sailors and the efficiency of their skill. He made note of it and relished the fact that he could wield two sorts of weapons at his point. The first was the kind that he had wielded for the last three decades at the head of the Hun army. And now, the polished Frank army and navy were also under him. He relished the idea of what he could do with that kind of power.

  The vessel arrived at the naval port and much to Attila’s astonishment he only saw thirty ships lining the length of the Sequena River.

  “Is that all there is?”

  “No, sire. This is the force that is meant to protect a naval attack on the city. There are thirty triremes here. The rest of the fleet is split between Le Harve, where there are two hundred vessels, and Marseilles in the south, where there are another two hundred vessels.”

  The numbers took him by surprise, although he did not show it. He was now the king of a navy that had four hundred triremes, most of them of Roman design, left for the Franks after the deterioration of the Roman-Frank alliance.

  “When can we sail to Le Harve?”

  “We can sail right now. It will take two bells to get there.”

  “Proceed, and on the way you can tell me the plan you have to capture Arthur and his father.”

  “I will tell you more than that, sire. I will tell you how you can conquer all of Britannia as well.”

  Attila found himself smirking and thinking of the man who had set them on this course. If it wasn’t for Bishkar, he would not be here. As they sailed, Attila’s thoughts drifted to the Narrow Sea and the fate of the man that he had thought of as his own son.

  Bishkar was the victim of consequence, not of his own doing. As a young boy in Salju, his land had been decimated by invading marauders. No one could understand what the attack was about. Even Attila, who had just become the king of the Huns, was shocked at the attack. But he found the boy hiding in the rubble just south of the village, having lost most of his memory of what had happened. Attila had felt such deep pity for the boy that he took him and looked after him. The boy had naturally taken Attila as a father figure and came to serve as his general.

  The fact that he now lay somewhere at the bottom of the Narrow Sea broke the barbarian’s heart.

  12

  Five Dragons

  in Disarray

  Three days after landing, Arthur rejoined his parents in the Pendragon tent. A light guard stood around the tent to keep strangers away from the family event.

  “Father, you look well. The days since we landed have done you good. It must be the air and the sea breeze,” Arthur began as he embraced his father. At the corner of his eye, he could see the look in his mother’s face wane for a moment while she thought that her son was not looking.

  Something serious did indeed transpire here, he thought. But he was not about to interfere in the matters between his parents. There was no way he could win by taking either side, regardless of who was right or wrong. He then moved to his mother. His embrace of her was with a light touch, one that communicated love and respect, but mixed in with tenderness and grace.

  “Mother,” he whispered, “I have so much to tell you,” he said, referring to his meeting with Merlin.

  “Come,” Igraine replied, holding back the tears that caught Arthur’s attention. “Sit. A feast is about to be served. It’s all the foods that you like. The servants have managed to roam the countryside and pluck the herbs and spices, though not all that you are used to, to make the dishes as close as you like them to be. Everyone is happy that you are back. Let us sit and talk while they finish the necessary preparations.”

  The three sat and talked. At first, the subject was of no consequence. It was the usual small talk of the countryside, the memories of the time that they were apart. Some were even about the weather. But as the afternoon wore on, matters began their turn to the worse.

  “In your absence, we have had a visitor, Arthur,” Igraine began.

  “Now is not the time, Igraine,” Uther suggested.

  Arthur took note that his father had used his mother’s name. But he let it pass without comment.

  “No, Father, tell me. I am curious. There are no secrets among family,” Arthur said, instantly putting Uther on the defensive and feeling like his son had taken his mother’s side. “Who is this visitor? Is he from the neighboring villages?”

  “No, Arthur. He is from very far away,” Uther began.

  “From the continent?” Arthur asked, still pretending that he had no idea what was coming.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7