10. For King and Country

Uther Pendragon inhaled deeply, if trembling, for several times once he had left the balcony. Gods, it was done. He knew, he just knew, he'd fooled them all. They'd virtually gobbled the fairy tale up lock, stock and barrel.

This story of the Druids having captured his son really was the perfect solution for all his problems. First of all it would ensure that no damned sorcerer in Albion would ever impose on Arthur's weaknesses again. The vulnerability, the almost fragile streak in his character the son had revealed to his father had been a torment for the King, more than he cared to admit.

Together with his wrath at Arthur's betrayal this anguish had made for an eruptive blend of emotions. But during the hunting trip Uther had put two and two together. Arthur's insistence that he was in love with this serving girl. His fondness for this idiotic servant of his. His actions at the time when his father had once demanded a strangling tax from his people. Now he had knighted a bunch of commoners and finally he had negotiated peace with these meaningless, dirty Druid peasants.

It all belonged together.

Arthur Pendragon was his father's son, all right. But he was also his mother's child. Igraine had always had a very kind and tender heart. She had suffered with every person she knew to be miserable. Even Matilda, when the stupid girl had degraded herself, a royal Princess of Pendragon blood, with a humble liegeman.

Naturally these newly won insights could not mean that Arthur would go unpunished for what he had done; nor could they calm the father's fear that his son and heir was somewhat unreliable at times.

Only on his ride home it had occurred to the King that there might be a more constructive possibility to deal with this than robbing Arthur of his title.

Cedric, although his death was as severe a loss as the demise of a servant could possibly be, would be of service to his master one last time. His corpse was solemn prove for an attack on father and son; an attack that could be made into a perfect means to a purpose.

The Druids would never believe that the fake of Arthur's abduction had not been made up by father and son intentionally, and in advance. To them, the Prince's peace offers would appear as a ruse that had brought them out in the open, to the executioner's axe. So much for a renewal of Arthur's appeasement policy.

At the same time, Uther was excused for letting his other prisoners go. No trials for High Treason, except the one for Ravenclaw, to satisfy the Branguards. So the King would lose his hostages, but Arthur wouldn't know that, would he. As far as his son was concerned, the whole lot would still be in his father's power. Would teach the sentimental boy a useful lesson in keeping his heart in check.

Andthis abduction story was the perfect excuse for not making Becco Crown Prince. That way it would be so much easier to get rid of the lad later on. Surely, it would cost money to send him and his mother packing. Lots of money. So what. Camelot had always been a prosperous country, for all of Arthur's fretting about their present finances.

Uther made a mental note to go over his coffers tomorrow before he resumed his former trail of thoughts.

Naturally Becco would believe until the very last moment that the throne would come to him in the end. Arthur would not be found and finally everyone would assume that he had been murdered by his captors.

Doubtlessly Camelot would all the more fall over her own feet with joy and relief once her Crown Prince would come back and Uther had every confidence in himself to find the perfect moment and decorum for this return.

Uther knew he had been gambling everything on this one, ferocious lie and now he had done it! Indeed, right now he was sure he could achieve anything.

Come to think of it, Arthur's untoward behaviour could at least be partly excused as a result of his so called friends' bad influence. With them out of the way, everything would be as it had been before between father and son. Surely the boy would chafe a bit at his spell in Devil's Claw, but he'd get over it. Arthur had always been able to shrug away any punishment his father had given him.

Uther walked down the corridor with a spring in his step, barely able to banish a happy smile from his face that wouldn't be very befitting in a grief-stricken father. For the first time since he had been forced to kneel to his own daughter the King felt totally, completely in control; the Lord and Liege of Camelot; sole master of the realm and everyone in it.

They had all been wrong, those people who had thought Uther Pendragon to be finished. He had never lost his nerve, not really. And they would see. Oh, yes, now they would see that they had struck off Arthur's old man too early.

The King felt so very good that he hardly succeeded in hiding his radiant mood from his sister who approached him with a sparkle of her own in her eyes, albeit it was a rather angry one.

"I've been looking for you Uther. I think you owe me an explanation. I was informed that you had written a warrant for Arthur's arrest and now I hear that your son has been taken by some rogues?"

"You always were a nosy, supercilious brat, even as a child" Uther thought. "Heaven may have mercy on my son should he ever fall into your hands."

Of course, it wouldn't be politically wise to say that. "Yes, he has, before my men could reach us" Uther therefore answered. "Surely you understand that under these circumstances Becco's ascendance to the title of Crown Prince is not possible. It wouldn't look good in the eyes of the people."

Matilda's face fell. Various, violent emotions swept over her before she regained her usual self-restraint. With a trembling smile she pressed her hand on her heart. "So you had indeed planned to make my son your heir? I had assumed correctly?"

"Of course I had, dear sister. It's the least I could do after you had taken so much trouble to inform me of my son's treacherous behaviour." The King was all amiability now. He even bowed to kiss his sister's cold fingers. "Arthur was to be arrested and tried for High Treason; in a secure place. Surely you see that I could have him arrested and tried here where some hidden allies of him may have caused serious troubles."

"That much is obvious" Matilda stated. "But where is Arthur now?"

"I have no idea. But we should hear something of him soon enough. Doubtlessly those rascals will try to trade him off, demand some kind of ransom. He will either be killed by them or he will come back to our hands, to get what he deserves."

A cold shiver ran down his spine, ruining his good mood completely. Uther Pendragon was no superstitious man, but these words cost him. They came so very near to his father's worst nightmares, it was like walking over Arthur's grave. With an effort the King had to remind himself that his son was safe behind Devil's Claw's thick and sturdy walls, with no enemies anywhere near him, Druids, magicians or otherwise.

His sister frowned when she saw his demeanour change; for a second her naïve smile wavered but she got it back as expertly as a warrior would balance his blade before he struck. "This must all be so very hard for you, Uther. I know you loved your son so very much."

"Yes, dearest, naturally it is" the King said. With the former chill still lingering, he feigned his crestfallenness very convincingly. "Without you, I'd surely not be able to carry on, Matilda. Especially after you so graciously consented to your troops coming to my aid."

The King was distracted, though, as one of the prison guards approached him in some haste.

"Oh, please, Uther, don't mention it. If 1000 of our men can help to ensure a Pendragon's lawful rule over Camelot it's the least I can do" Matilda said, but her brother didn't pay much attention.

"For sure, my dear, that's very true. But now you must excuse me. I have some urgent business to attend to."

"Naturally, Uther. Will you join us for dinner? There is much to discuss."

"By all means, Matilda. I am looking forward to it already."

With a last polite bow the King took his leave of his sister who stared after him thoughtfully before she left.

"What is the matter?" Uther asked the guard curtly.

"My Lord, I have no idea how it could have happened, we had all exits secured. They still are safely locked; none of us can understand how he managed it."

"How who managed what? For the Gods' sake, man, spit it out."

"The Baron of Ravenclaw, Sire. He's gone. Escaped. Vanished into thin air."

Uther slumped down on the nearest window sill; fighting for his breath. This was a real blow. Six strong castles, dear Gods. Vast lands, almost 300 knights and twice as many soldiers at his disposal. Ravenclaw was one of the most powerful notables of the Kingdom. He had no sons or brothers, only an elderly wife. As long as he was securely under lock and key Uther had no need to fear his power, but now…

"What are you still standing here" the King growled. "Search the premises. For heaven's sake, turn every stone until you have found him."

"We've already done that, Your Majesty. There's no trace of him. Nowhere."

"Blast your stupidity, since when is he gone?"

The unfortunate guard swallowed painfully. "Since, since….."

"I'll have your head cut off for this, you hare-brained idiot. SINCE WHEN IS THE RASCAL GONE?"

"Since earlier this afternoon, Your Majesty. Must have happened shortly before your proclamation."

Uther covered his face with both hands briefly, a signature gesture he unwittingly shared with his son. Fleetingly he thought of Devil's Claw. Did Ravenclaw know about Arthur? What if Geoffrey had…. But no, the old man wouldn't dare.

"You are dismissed" Uther snapped at the desperate guard.

"My Lord?"

"I said, get lost, before I forget myself!"

The guard bowed and took to his heels. Uther didn't even see it. His thoughts were racing.

This was not the end of the world. Sooner or later Ravenclaw had to pop up somewhere. He needed money, he needed support. It might be a good idea to rattle him, though.

The King turned on his heel and went into his office. Only fifteen minutes later a messenger mounted his fastest horse for a ride to the nearest garrison with the warrant for the arrest of the Lady Ravenclaw.

Uther felt his mind and instincts rising to the challenge. He had felt that way in the days before he had finally conquered Camelot. His every nerve alert and tensed, his mind clear and focused. So very much alive.

In a way it was marvellous to feel like that again, after so many years. Once more he could not afford to make any mistakes. He had to go through this methodically, step by step.

He thought of notifying the Branguards but decided against it. One of the brothers was due back in Camelot Castle by tomorrow afternoon anyway. Ample time to tell him then.

For now the King had done everything he could about Ravenclaw. It was time to care about the others that presently populated his dungeons.

Barely an hour after he had called for the first prisoner, almost anyone had been released, with the polite excuses and apologies of a most gracious, even somewhat compunctious King. The noblemen among them did not have to leave without some nice and valuable gifts.

They all bowed deferentially to their King and when the Council Members bowed their way out, Uther spontaneously wondered how many of them really believed his story of a Druid abduction. Although experienced by many years of manipulation and political manoeuvres, the King also marvelled at their ability to float with the tide. All minutes or registries aside, only Arthur would know who had suggested or condoned what during his regency. How many of these friendly faces wished that their Prince would never come back to haunt them with this knowledge? How many wished him to come back, with his father's death in his heart?

Uther had to supress his sarcastic grin while he gave order to bring in the first bunch of the remaining prisoners.

However, this lot proved to be quite another cup of mead.

Somehow Gwaine had taken the lead of the group, his defiant face and straight shoulders setting the mood of the whole bunch. He met the King's gaze and held it. Uther was the one who couldn't stand this eventually. Pendragon let his gaze flicker over all of them. On Lancelot it paused briefly, in sudden recognition, before it wandered on.

The last one in the row was Leon.

Angrily the King turned to the guard soldiers who had brought the prisoners in. "Why is Sir Leon with these people. He has nothing to do with them!"

Before the soldier could answer, Leon spoke for himself. "I beg Your Majesty's pardon, but you are wrong. I have everything to do with these men."

"As a trusted member of Camelot's ancient nobility you have nothing in common with them. Pray stay out of this."

"Do as he says, Leon" Gwaine stepped in. "He's right. This is between us and him."

He grinned at Uther's obvious anger and shook his head. "No need to say it, King Uther. You will not honour Arthur's word or his promises, although he has made them to us with all the sincerity of his heart. Of that, your son has quite a lot. As we are still alive, I'd guess you are going to disgrace your own son by banishing us from the realm, on pain of death."

"My son's honour is no concern of yours" Uther replied; visibly fighting for self-control.

"You are not very concerned about it either, I dare say." Gwaine turned his back to Uther and cocked his head in direction of the exit. "I for my part do not want to stay here anyhow. Without Arthur and Merlin, this place is nothing but a common dirt hole like all the other nobility kennels I have seen."

He took his jacket, threw it over his shoulder and without so much as looking at the King of Camelot, casually strolled out. Percival followed him immediately. Lancelot hesitated for a moment. As did Elyan. "My sister, My Lord" Guinivere's brother said. "What about her?"

"What on earth have I to do with your sister?" the King said.

"His sister is Guinivere, Sire." Leon spoke up now. "The mother of your unborn grandchild. Prince Arthur's child."

Damn that physician. Damn Saltyre. Damn them all. Was there anyone left in Camelot who did not know about this bloody child?

Uther wanted to fly into a rage; he wanted to forbid once and for all every mentioning of the wretched woman and her unborn bastard brat. But somehow he couldn't.

Leon was more than just one of the knights under Arthur's command. He had always been close to father and son; and he had led the knights' opposition against Morgana. That much Uther had gathered from what Arthur had told his father during the long months of his illness. Besides, the knights' final refuse to submit to his daughter he had been watching from his cell with his own eyes. Leon's "Long live the King" still rang in Uther's ears.

"Sir Leon, please stay out of this, I…."

"Your Majesty, I must ask you to answer Sir Elyan's question" Leon insisted. "The Lady in question is entitled to our respect and allegiance, by her own merits and as the future Queen of Camelot."

For a long moment it was very quiet in the spacious hall.

Uther's hand closed around the hilt of his sword. There were limits to what he was willing to take, even from someone like Leon.

Elyan furtively touched Leon's arm, to warn him of the danger.

Sir Leon, however, kept his gaze on his King's face, steadily, very calm – neither to be intimidated nor pressed into something he could not reconcile with his conscience. He had looked at Morgana that way. With the same expression he had faced her execution squad.

Slowly, the King's hand relaxed.

"If you are her brother, she's your responsibility anyway" he snapped at Elyan. "And I dare say you should have taken better care of her and her honour. You all have until tonight's closing of the gates to leave Camelot, never to return. Should it come to my ears that anyone of you, man or woman, gives himself any airs in foreign countries, as a knight or a Lady of Camelot, I will have my henchmen on your trail and they will find you, you can rely on that. Now get out. The woman will join you soon enough."

Apparently bored and disgusted, Uther turned away from them, missing Lancelot's attempt to come for him before Elyan stopped his friend.

"Sir Leon, a word with you" Uther said.

"Forgive me, Sire, but there's no time for that" Leon replied. "As we are to leave tonight, I must resign my commission at once. Please, let me have your confirmation here and now."

The others, already on their way out, turned back towards the two nobles. Even Gwaine.

Uther didn't believe his ears. "This has gone far enough, Sir Leon. You are dismissed. We'll talk again in the morning."

"Sire, with all due respect, I must insist that you accept my resignation. I can only serve a Liege who has my loyalty and my respect. I can no longer stay in your service, as my allegiance is no longer with you."

The others stood stupefied by what was going on.

"You realize" Uther said, very quietly, "that it's not only your commission you're resigning but your fiefdom, too. Your whole existence, your title, your lands – everything you have."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I'm fully aware of that."

"You, a high born knight of the realm, degrade yourself for some Tom, Dick and Harry? For a bunch of commoners?" Uther still couldn't believe this.

"No, Sire" Leon replied firmly. "For your son!"

Uther paled. With a visible effort, he straightened himself. "What does that mean?"

"We all could hear your proclamation, Sire, but we also know that you yourself had planned to charge your son with High Treason. Whatever has really happened to His Royal Highness; this, as well as your behaviour towards the mother of his child, makes it impossible for me to stay in your service."

"Then it will be best if you indeed left Camelot with your new friends, as you seem no longer capable of appreciating the old ones."

Silently, Leon nodded. He bowed his good-bye to his former master and went out; unwittingly taking the lead of the group that fell into step behind him. This time, Gwaine waited until the others had went past him before he joined his friends.

"They breed a rare kind of nobility here" he whispered to Percival, who shook his head.

"Crying shame it doesn't affect everyone" was Percy's derisive answer.

Uther sat down after they had finally left and buried his face in his hands for a moment. The shame and humiliation of this scene burned like acid. Suddenly today's earlier achievements weren't so convincing anymore.

Then he inhaled deeply. There was nothing for it. Five had been dealt with. Three more to go. And one of them a woman.

As it came, Guinivere made things easy for him. She blatantly denied that the child she was carrying was Arthur's; she confessed, unasked, that she had been acquainted with many men besides the Crown Prince and that the child she was going to have was hers and hers alone. No Pendragon would have a claim on her son or daughter, and Camelot could go to hell for all she cared.

Banishing her from the realm was no problem at all after that.

She left Arthur's father with her chin lifted and a very brave face. How she looked or what she did when she joined her brother was no concern of Uther's anymore.

It was beyond the King of Camelot that this scene had been even more shameful for him than Sir Leon's resignation. Uther felt much better already since he had kicked that trollop out of his realm – and his son's life – for good.

Pendragon felt even more satisfied when he had dealt with Geoffrey, as his old clerk had said almost nothing. "Yes, Sire. No, Sire. As you wish, Sire" and finally "Good Bye, Sire."

After Geoffrey had shuffled out, Uther faced the last one of the suspects he had had thrown into the dungeons, once more confident that he would get his way, no matter what.

"Gaius! There you are."

"I am where Your Majesty has put me."

"Yes, well. Where else should you have been."

"Indeed, My Lord. That applies to all of us."

Irritated, Uther knotted his brows in an angry frown. "Don't speak in riddles, physician. It's far too late at night for that."

"It's far too late for many things, Your Majesty."

"Damn you, Gaius. What are you talking about?"

"Where is your son, My Lord? In the Druids' claws or in the Devil's?"

"You've heard my proclamation, I know you did."

"I heard your words all right. And I think I got the message as well as anybody else. But now the crowd is gone and we are alone. Where is Camelot's Crown Prince?"

"You've heard what I…."

"Uther Pendragon, I've always known when you were about to do something foolish and it is the one big shame of my life that I always let you get away with your idiotic schemes. But not this time. I am only a humble healer. I can go any time. You are the King. No matter what you do, you have to stay and live with your mistakes. As your friend, I ask you again – what have you done to your son?"

"Hell, Gaius, he'll live, a little time off and a small lesson in discipline and humility won't kill my son. He's securely under lock and key in Devil's Claw. Now are you content."

"It's not me who has to be content with being kept in this disgraceful dirt-hole."

"You're trying my patience, Gaius. Just in case you didn't notice."

"And my boy? What have you done to Merlin? His name was on the warrants' list."

Uther hesitated. He was sure that Gaius had known all about his ward being a sorcerer. He also knew how much the old healer loved the darn urchin.

It had been a long day and it wasn't over yet. Cedric was dead, Leon had left, Geoffrey hadn't even looked at him and as for Arthur…. Idiotically, absurdly Uther felt the irresistible urge to go to his son and make sure that he was all right, safely tucked in his bed. He had done so occasionally when Arthur had been a kid. When his heir had turned 11, the traditional age for his first real sword, the father's visits had ended. Now the King felt his foolish wish even stronger because it was impossible.

No, he would not have another row with another friend. Not today.

"I've sent him home for good. He obviously had a bad influence on my son."

"Merlin shares your son's fate. That much is certain, and in more ways than you can imagine. He'd never leave Arthur willingly, especially not while your son is held captive."

"Well, he did not. I had to coerce him into it but finally he left, not without pocketing Arthur's valuable hunting knife, the one Igraine has left to him. Your rascal of a ward might as well be content with that, it's worth a fortune."

Gaius looked at his King, his life-long friend, and somehow it seemed as if he saw him for the first time.

"I trust one day it will be a King's ransom" he said. "I wish Your Majesty a very good night. Camelot is such a spacious castle; it can be somewhat eerie at night for a man who is alone."

"Gaius? Gaius! Come back. Come back at once. That's an order!"

Oh to hell with it. The old man's mood would rise with the sun, it always did. Better wait until then.

Wearily Uther let his head fall and tried to ease the strain on his neck muscles. He felt a considerable headache approaching and sighed. No Merlin to call for, to bring him one of Gaius' potions. And it would be humiliatingly useless to call for the Court Physician himself, that much was certain.

The King indulged himself in a rare moment of complete, luxurious self-pity. All these hard decisions he had to make and nobody at his side to understand and support him. Not even his children….

Uther stopped this trail of thoughts immediately. Behind every thought of his daughter lurked the memory of his darkest moments, and the long, mortifying nights and days of weakness and despair that had followed them.

Something like that would never happen to him again. He would not allow it.

Surely Arthur would understand the need for that in the end. By now he and his guards must already have reached Devil's Claw. Maybe he could write to his son, explain a few things; pave the way towards reconciliation, so to speak. Or perhaps he should pay him a visit, in perfect secrecy of course. Would make things a bit easier for the boy, wouldn't it.

Yes, maybe that was a good idea. He would give it more thought later on. Right now he had to weather out a family dinner.

With one last sigh, Uther went to his private chambers, to face the inevitable ordeal of dressing up for the occasion without Cedric's help.

Tonight's guests of honour, however, had problems to discuss in this very moment that went way beyond the quality of service in Camelot.

"I don't believe a word of this Druid story" Matilda said while she tried to decide on a shawl that would go with her ivory dress. "My brother has made that up. He wants our troops, not you or me. As Arthur would have opposed this mad idea of a second purge, he has been stowed away for the time being."

"By his own father?" Becco asked incredulously.

"My dear cuddly bear, you of all people should know what a father can do to his son."

As this was disturbingly true, Hortensius shrugged, hiding his embarrassment behind a grumpy face.

"So what are we going to do, mother? If that's true, he'll never make me Crown Prince."

"We don't need him to make you anything. Not anymore. Our troops will do that for him. As soon as our men have settled down, I will see to it that your path is cleared." She rummaged through her things, mumbling to herself "no that won't do. And this one looks so awfully cheap."

"What do you mean, clear my path?"

Matilda's shoulders fell in an age-old gesture of frustration. "You know what I had in my mind for my dear brother, don't you. Naturally it can't happen quickly, that would be too obvious. Something that takes a few months, some slowly but inevitably progressing illness of the stomach. Or of the heart. Yes, this is it."

"Have you decided on a shawl for your dress?"

"No love, on a potion for my brother."

"Mother, I wish you wouldn't be that….casual about these things."

"Why ever not, my pet? It's what we had in mind all along."

"So what do you want me to do in the meantime?"

"What you are best at. Leading our army. But not too successfully, mind. Every single one of our men is very precious when the time comes. I'd say you lead them through the bushes, searching for Arthur. Naturally you will not find him, Uther isn't that stupid. But it will keep our troops out of mischief. We can do that for some time before he grows suspicious. Then it will be soon enough to slaughter some Druids. After one or two impressive looking victories, King Uther's already declining health will fail him completely and he will die a martyr to his cause. As Arthur will be conveniently absent, you will be left in charge. It's all very simple really."

"And as nobody will know that and where Arthur is still alive, we can kill him as soon as we have found him after his father's death" Hortensius said eagerly. For some inexplicable reason he detested his Cousin. Maybe it was this affection and reverence Arthur met everywhere in Camelot. Nobody had ever troubled himself with liking or respecting Becco like that. Nobody except his mother, of course.

"No, Horty, I absolutely, categorically refuse to condone that."

The Comte was flabbergasted at his mother's sudden outburst. With wide eyes he stared at her angry face. "Why ever not, Maman? It's a good opportunity."

"Because I say so, understood?" Matilda said with vigour. "Besides, if you could kill him in his hideaway with nobody being the wiser, we can as easily take him alive without anyone knowing it. Once in the Auvergne, he'd make a valuable hostage if something should go wrong."

"Your plans never do" Hortensius said fondly.

Matilda danced a few steps in front of him, displaying the shawl she had been looking for. "There. How do I look?"

"Like a Queen. Whoever I shall marry one day, she must look like you. You are so very beautiful, Maman."

Matilda knew he meant it, although it wasn't true. Her son wasn't very objective on that score. But she loved him all the more for that.

"We'll find you a Queen that you can be proud of" she said. "Someone who'll appreciate you as you deserve. Together we will give the Pendragon dynasty the chance for a new beginning."

Hortensius returned her happy mood with an affectionate smile of his own. Who cared about Arthur anyhow? If his Maman wanted him alive, she'd get him. It was that simple.

He offered his mother his arm and the two of them went to join Uther for dinner in perfect harmony.