Dragon Hearts

10. Llanfair

Arthur screamed at the top of his lungs as the whip hit his mutilated back and thighs again and again. Already lacerated skin was ripped open and flesh was torn apart in a never ending nightmare of pain and fear. Without really knowing it, he whimpered "please, no more, please, don't...."

Through the haze that covered his mind he felt Count Llanfair grip his hair and jerk his head upwards. "Son, if I were you, I'd rethink my answer to an honest offer. I can go on with this to all eternity. Question is, can you?"

Somewhere in Arthur's mind an answer formed but it never reached his lips. From a far distance he heard Llanfair's order to continue and after a few minutes he screamed again and didn't stop until the beating was halted once more. The young man hung in the chains that fastened his handcuffs and leg irons to the wall and gasped with pain until a rag was stuffed into his mouth and secured with a piece of rope. The lack of air became intolerable. A few lashes more and Arthur sank into merciful oblivion.

Llanfair scrutinized his prisoner's still face and felt for his pulse. "I think that's enough for today. We can continue tomorrow." With rough force he pulled the chains tight once more and secured them in the hooks that were placed in several places of the wall. Only then he removed the gag. "Lucius, I hold you responsible that he keeps quiet when he comes to, understood? I'll expect my son to come back any time now."

His Head Gaoler nodded and Llanfair left the dungeons with a very dissatisfied face.

As soon as the old Count had turned his back Lucius checked on the unconscious Prince. As he had assumed the young man burned with fever. The old soldier looked at the gruesome injuries and moaned as if he had been tortured along with his prisoner. Then he came to a decision.

Lucius muttered angrily under his breath while he crossed Blackrock Castle's court yard and headed for the infirmary. "Merco! Where are ya, ol' weasel? Come out or I'll break your unwashed neck. Damn him, where's the ol' quack?"

A small, fragile looking man of unidentifiable age bustled out of a dark corner. With hair of an indistinct brown, little dark eyes, a small face and protruding upper teeth he indeed resembled a weasel. He tried to keep up his dignity, straightened his dirty robe, pulled himself up to his full height and blew up his narrow chest. Unfortunately nothing of this was in the least impressive. "Has it ever occurred to you that you threats could be so much more intimidating if for once you would trouble yourself with considering their logic in advance? Ad exemplum, how could you possibly break my neck if I am not even there?"

The middle-aged soldier, almost two metres tall and very bulky, stared down at the tiny man and growled dangerously. "Don't you dare ta trouble me with your three an' a half words of the ol' Romans' tongue, they don''t impressin' me much and well ya know it. Now prick your ears if ya wont ta keep them. I need some 'herbal ointment' or whatever ya call the stuff that's good for open wounds, some of your other stuff ta clean them an' stop them festering, some bandages an' clean rags. An' rapido, if ya understand my Latin well enough ta know what's good for ya!"

Mercator scrutinized Llanfair's Head Gaoler doubtfully. "And to what purpose, if I may ask, would you use these medications and items? And on your own discretion, without my expert help I would presume?"

Suddenly Lucius gave up his threatening posture and shrugged helplessly. "The old wolf can't make up his mind. The way he keeps Pendragon's lad chained in this hell-hole is torture in itself an' he's having him whipped an' starved until the sun would shine through him an' yet he tells me ta keep the wretched whelp alive. By force if needs be. An' it needs be, believe me. I tell ya, I'm sick of forcing everything down the boy's throat, only to see it come back a wee bit later. I'm at my wits' end."

Mercator sighed softly and shook his head. "This is disgraceful" the healer said. "Why is he doing it, Lucius? What does he want from the son that he hasn't already got from the father?"

Lucius snorted. "It's true that the wolf has the old dragon on his knees and the whole of Camelot with him. But there's more than countries and money in the dirty game he's playing with the dragon's hatchling. I don't know what's what, but so far Arthur doesn't play along an' it makes the Count furious like Satan himself."

Mercator had put all necessary things in a basket and gave it to the soldier. "How do you think you could explain your help for the prisoner? I understand it goes against the Count's expressed wishes."

Lucius took the basket and shrugged again. "He wants the boy alive. That's my excuse." Looking furtively at the physician he added "you know, if this doesn't work, the old wolf may take it out on both of us."

The small man shuddered and his face became very pale, but also very resolved. "Take the medication anyway and I hope it will do some good. If you need more, let me know."

Lucius nodded. "Thanks, old man. I owe you."

Once back in the dungeons Lucius searched for some clean straw and covered it with a blanket before he unlocked the chains that had forced the young man to lie in his own filth for many days. Relieved that Arthur was still out as a light the soldier ripped off the filthy clothes and washed away as much dirt as possible before he laid his patient on the blanket. Then he had a closer look at the injuries. Some of them needed stitching but for now the cleaning and the ointment would have to do. The soldier tried to get to the badly injured wrists and ankles as well, but Llanfair had made sure that the cuffs were a tight fit. Lucius cursed softly. He had the keys for the bolts that were used to pull the wall chains tight but not for the manacles or leg irons. However, this couldn't be helped. Miraculously there were no lice or other vermin yet.

"Your fever may still be your salvation, son. Either it'll bring the old wolf to his senses or it will take you out of your misery" Lucius muttered while he poured some water down the prisoner's throat. "Look at me, 50 years old, 35 years of military service and now I'm playing the mother hen" he continued while he pulled one of his old shirts and a pair of equally time-honoured pants over the exposed skin and covered the body with another blanket. Lucius rose and groaned as his stiff joints complained.

He ripped the wooden boards off the windows. Air and the evening sunlight flowed into the cell. Together with the open door this should do nicely. At the sound of chains clanking he turned and saw that Arthur had curled up more comfortably under the blanket. So he was asleep now. Unbelievable but true, the boy was breathing much easier already. But then the Pendragons had always been a tough lot.

Lucius sat down in the nearest corner and rested his back against the wall to wait out the night. "20 years since I left Camelot to spy for your father at Llanfair's Court" Lucius thought while he watched Arthur sleeping. "20 years in which Uther and the old wolf raised two fine sons whom we all hoped would bring the idiotic old feud to an end. And now look at the mess we're stuck in."

Once more scrutinizing the Prince's injuries, Lucius shook his head in despair. "It won't do you any good, but your father will never let that go unpunished, my boy. And if I know the old dragon he will take it out on young Lord Antek as much as the old wolf is taking it out on you. If some animals had raised the two of you somewhere in the brushwood you would have been better off."

The night passed on uneventfully. Lucius had just once again settled down in his corner when he heard the outer door open and close again. He rose to his feet, full of apprehension. "Showtime, my Prince" he thought. "For your life and mine."

The Count's enraged roar was audible long before he actually entered the prison cell. "Lucius. I'll have your guts cut out for this. Where are you? How dare you open that door and the windows?"

"I am here, My Lord. As is your prisoner, if barely." Lucius knew better than to play dumb with his master.

At the sight of the matted mass of blond hair under the blanket the Count calmed down somewhat. "Who authorised this?"

Lucius still stood in full attention. "I acted on my own accord, Your Grace. You wanted the captive to be kept alive at any costs. I did my best to follow your orders, but now, with the fever and all....."

Llanfair frowned. "Fever you say? So soon?"

With an effort, Lucius kept his respectful tone. "It has been eight weeks since he was dragged in here, My Lord. Two weeks since you first pulled the chains so tight that he couldn't move at all. No air, no light. It was to be expected."

Llanfair bent down and touched Arthur's forehead. His face fell as he rose and Lucius saw his chance. "You see, besides the fever the wounds are festering."

When the old Count kept his silence and bit his lip in thought Lucius decided to push him a little bit further. "Why not let Merco nurse him for a while. Whatever you do to him now, he won't feel it anyway. But once he has recovered the perspective of being brought back here might bring him to heel."

Llanfair pondered this for a moment before he grunted affirmatively and threw his keys to the gaoler. "Take him upstairs then. We'll see what comes of it. If he escapes, you will take his place in here until you rot in your chains. Understood?"

The soldier nodded. "Perfectly well, My Lord."

The moment Lucius left the infirmary after he had delivered his prisoner into Mercator's capable hands he heard hoofs beat on the Castle Bridge. "Antek!" he thought, and his heart missed a beat for utter relieve. "Thank heaven, he's back." The soldier stormed across the castle yard and caught up with his young master at the stable entrance. "My Lord, I have to speak to you."

Antek frowned impatiently. "Lucius, I have only just arrived. I'm tired, I'm dirty and whatever it is, I'm sure I won't be interested right now."

Lucius felt despair well up inside him. "My Lord, with all due respect, this is urgent. There's something in the infirmary you must see!"

Antek sighed and surrendered. "All right, all right, I would have greeted Uncle Mercator anyway." When this familiar joke didn't bring a smile to Lucius' lips the young Count became worried. "Is something amiss with the old man?"

Forgetting all protocol and decency Lucius gripped his Lord's arm and pulled him towards the infirmary. ""You'll wait and see for yourself" he said.

Barely fifteen minutes later, Antek ran towards his father's chambers with a face white with rage.

Count Llanfair looked up when his son banged the door against the wall and stormed in. "Father, how could you do a thing like this? It's an outrage. I will not tolerate it."

The Count cocked a brow. "I take it you have been to the infirmary?"

"Yes, I have. And I am horrified at what I saw."

His father shrugged dismissively. "Arthur will survive. He's much tougher than one would expect from such a handsome boy."

"Well father, he's not so handsome now. What did you think you were doing? How on earth shall we ever explain this to his father?"

"We won't explain anything. May I remind you that I am the Master here."

Antek snorted. "The way you treated the heir to Camelot's Crown you may very well be the last Count of Llanfair. Uther will have both our heads for this."

Llanfair laid down the parchments he had held in his hands. "Uther will not see his son again in this life and that's that. Besides, Arthur no longer is the heir to Camelot's Crown."

Antek shook his head, completely at a loss. "What are you talking about? We had a clear agreement with Camelot. Arthur was to come here for a few weeks to emphasize Camelot's good intentions and to guarantee that Uther wouldn't betray us. His stay here should improve your standing in the negotiations with Camelot. We both swore a sacred oath that Arthur wouldn't be harmed. Uther has our written and sworn consent to this."

"Fortunately for us, that's not what Uther told his son. Fact is that he disinherited Arthur and disowned him before he came here. A case of treachery, as I was informed by our people in Camelot."

Antek didn't trust his ears. "Treason? Arthur?"

Llanfair got impatient. "Antek, as always you are completely missing the point. Fact is that Uther was sufficiently blinded by emotion to put up a ruse for his son, telling him that he had agreed to this mock offer of a peace treaty I once made. Seems he crowned his stupidity by taking a servant girl Arthur used to cuddle to the dungeons to ensure his son's cooperation." The old Count settled back in his chair and waited until he saw understanding dawn in his son's face.

Antek sat down flat on his father's desk. "You mean Arthur came here thinking that his own father had effectively sold him into slavery?" Llanfair nodded, still smiling benevolently. "Surely you do see the implications for us in that?"

When his son only stared at him, the Count made a show of very patiently folding his fingers in front of him. "Then let me enlighten you, my son. As you very well know, it was almost thirty years ago that Uther Pendragon came out of nowhere and stole the woman I loved, the Crown she had to give and the Castle that had been my home from me. For almost thirty years the shrewd old bastard has counteracted all my plans to expand my property and my power. Now, for the first and probably the last time he has blundered. He has really mucked it up and now I will break him to pieces. He will lose the only thing really precious to him and this will also cost him his Crown and his realm in the end, you'll see. And believe me he'll know who has defeated him before he dies."

Antek saw the rapture in his father's face. Eyes glittering unnaturally, cheeks reddened and lips pulled back behind his teeth the old Count seemed to have changed into somebody entirely alien, someone not completely human. His son felt a coldness grow inside him, as if a lump of ice slowly found its way from his guts to his chest. The hatred he saw in his father's face was almost palpable, as if it had a life of its own.

The young Count rose and swallowed hard. "So you betrayed Uther and me for the opportunity to take out your petty revenge on a defenceless boy who never caused you any harm."

All of a sudden Llanfair pulled himself upright to his full height and his voice filled the room. "The Pendragon Dynasty is aptly named. Dragon's seed, that's what they are, with a Dragon's heart, a Dragon's soul and a Dragon's inhuman powers. Unnatural was the charm that lured Igraine away from me and unnatural was the birth of Uther's child. They have no right to Camelot's Crown and it is my task to see that this abomination is extinguished from this earth. A true son would understand this. A true son would support me. But you....you....." Llanfair pressed a hand to his chest and bent over and for a moment only his laboured breathing was audible.

As always the purposeful show of pain and 'fragile health' was sufficient to subdue Antek. When his father fell back into his chair and covered his eyes, the young Count hurried to his side and took his hand. "Forgive me father" he murmured: "I didn't want to upset you."

Llanfair pushed his son's hand away. "Then why are you always talking such nonsense?" he said indignantly "Arthur isn't a boy, he's 22, like you. Besides, it was his choosing. I told him he would be well treated if he came over to me and he spit into my face. Even after what Uther had done to him the stupid prat didn't want to abandon his father. If he had cooperated, if he would have begged for his father's help, Uther would have met all my demands without me touching a hair on Arthur's head."

Through all the honest sorrow for his father, Antek felt a chill run down his spine. This exceeded the man's familiar ruthlessness. "But as it was" he said, disgusted by the mere thought, "the horror stories you used to put pressure on Camelot had to be true."

Llanfair nodded. "That was part of it, yes. But there's more to it. When Uther bites the dust I want him to know that even his own son has forsaken him. This so called King of Camelot will die in the knowledge that the last thing he had left of Igraine is now mine." Llanfair smiled indulgently at his son's horrified face; as if Antek was an insolent child one had to be patient with. "You think that's unachievable? My dear boy, you are an imbecile when it comes to human nature. Arthur can and will be turned, believe me. You'll let me handle this and all will be fine in the end." Now it was him who searched for Antek's hand to fondle it and his voice became soft and kind. "I am doing it all for you, my son, don't you know that? Oh, what an inheritance I will leave to you, you'll see. Just let me handle everything."

However, Antek wasn't defeated that easily. He rose and pulled his hand back. "Father, I will not let Arthur suffer from your hand once more. As soon as he's sufficiently recovered I will escort him back to Camelot myself. After all, he is my friend."

Llanfair snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. These six months you had together as page boys at King Olaf's Court hardly count as a life-long friendship."

But this time Llanfair couldn't manipulate his son just like that. "Arthur was very kind to me back then. While all the other boys avoided me for no other reason than that I am a Llanfair they flattered and pampered King Uther's son. But Arthur singled me out as his companion and we really became friends, until you and Uther called us back home prematurely."

The old Count closed his eyes and laid his head in his hand as if exasperated by such stupidity. "Antek, even you can't be that naïve. Doubtlessly Arthur had orders from his father to turn you against me. I had to call you home to save you from Pendragon's deviousness."

Fighting for his patience Antek drew a deep breath. "Father, this is absurd. How devious can a sixteen year old boy possibly be?"

All of a sudden Llanfair slumped down in his chair in well feigned exasperation. "All right then. Go on with this madness. Bring the hatchling back home and see what the old dragon will do to you. Go ahead, do what you think you have to do. But I swear to you, the day Arthur regains his freedom will mark the end of everything we ever worked for. Not a stone will be left standing of our estate once Uther Pendragon is through with us and we both will regret that we were ever born."

Antek's determination weakened. All his life he had been told stories about Uther's cruelty and he was genuinely afraid of the man he had never met. Now the disgraceful ruse he had put up for his son strengthened the gruesome picture Antek had made up of the King of Camelot.

Much less resolved than before Antek said "I am pretty sure he wouldn't hurt us if it was me who brought his son back. Surely Arthur wouldn't want his father to know all the details of what happened to him."

Llanfair sensed his son's insecurity and went for the open flank. "Oh, but he already does know all the details. You see, I wrote to him, weekly. Everything I did to your so called 'friend', how he looked afterwards, how it sounded when he screamed, when he begged me to stop or when he unwittingly cried for his father, how his pride crumbled, bit by bit, while I had him forcibly fed – it was all in my letters. Which father could forgive this? You tell me!"

Llanfair worked himself up into an appalling enthusiasm. "Oh, of course, you were in the border territories playing the gallant Commander-in Chief, but why do you think Uther's troops really retreated from there without firing a single shot? Do you have any idea how much these territories are worth in annual revenue? And speaking of money, you should go down to the vaults and have a look at our coffers. Camelot paid an outrageous sum for Arthur's release, no guarantees asked. I kept the money and the Prince and all his father received in return was another letter. But naturally, if you were to march into the dragon's den, all would be forgiven and forgotten. Or maybe you wish to drag your own father along with you to see me hanged by the neck from Camelot's highest tower."

Antek felt sick and tired to the bone. "What have you done to us?" he muttered. "Uther's army outnumbers our troops seven to one. He could crush us to dust any time."

Llanfair laughed hysterically. "But don't you see that that's the best of it? He can't do anything with all his power as long as Arthur is in our hands. If he were to march against Blackrock, I'd have nothing to lose."

Antek stared at him. "What about me and my future?" he whispered hoarsely. "I am that dispensable to you?"

For a moment this knocked Llanfair out of his stride but he recovered quickly. "Antek, you do not understand what I am saying. Of course you're not dispensable to me. You are my son and I love you. You'll see, in the end we will have it all. I had the details of what happened to their precious Prince spread in Camelot by our agents. Everybody knows them. How long do you think the people will tolerate a King who foozled it like that? His Head Knight has already forsaken him, together with a whole bunch of other knights and their men. Uther never thought of informing his people about the real terms under which Arthur came here. If he were to tell the truth now, who would believe him? The only thing left to do is to bring his son under our thumb and Uther Pendragon will be finished, Antek, finished."

In spite of many signs and hints the young Count had never before allowed himself to think that his father might have lost his sanity. Now realization that the man in front of him was a danger to himself, to his son and to virtually everyone around him as well as to the realm he controlled came as a brutal blow. At the same time Antek knew that there was nothing he could do to counteract his father's lunacy. No guard, no soldier, not even Lucius or Merco would go against Llanfair's will, no matter what Antek said or did. Every single lash of the whip that had hit Arthur Pendragon's body had brought Camelot's swords nearer to Llanfair's throat. Now the two houses were in a deadlock of hatred and violence. Burning with shame and embarrassment Antek let go of the thought to set Arthur free. There wasn't much he could do to help his friend except sparing him a return to the dungeons' living hell.

Antek once more knelt at his father's side. "You are right, father, as always. I guess I'll never learn to think things through as carefully as you do. However, as so far all your efforts could not bring Arthur to heel, may I make a suggestion as to how we should proceed?"

Llanfair listened to what his son had conjured up and smiled benevolently. He caressed his son's dark, unruly hair and agreed to everything he said. It was exactly what he had wanted Antek to say and do, but what good would it do to tell the naïve boy anything? It was enough that Antek's pathetic attempts to save him would bring Arthur so much nearer to the trap the old Count had set up for the young dragon's soul.

Llanfair smiled down at Antek's eager face and enjoyed being seemingly deluded while it really was him who beguiled his son. "Oh, Uther" he thought "isn't it exerting to raise a boy? Wouldn't you agree?"

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