Chapter 48 [Camelot—Three Turns of the Hourglass Later]
The occupied city suffered under the invaders' heavy hand. Wagons bore the storehouses' grain sacks and wine casks back toward the mass of knights encircling the walls. Prisoners walked behind the wagon in chains to the north. Cawdorian officers catalogued the treasures in the royal vault for their leader's personal collection.
The former dominance now peeled away….
Meleagant lounged back in his throne. His eyes regarded the entire chamber. He liked how the goblet sparkled in his right hand. He'd savored a feast just an hour earlier. He awaited his stewards' report on the treasury and vault.
What Camelot had now belonged to Cawdor….
I will extend my hold over the mainland! Imagination could visualize the neighboring kingdoms' fall. It could see his wealth increasing over time. Money, slaves, drafted foot soldiers and commodities would sustain his domain as he spread across the island and toward Europe itself.
Most of all though, he smirked over his mid-day entertainment. Given Uther's preferred method of execution for sorcerers, Meleagant tied Camelot's deposed ruler up. Then his victim was lowered into the well and left to drown.
I wonder what the Boy Prince will think when he sees Daddy's water logged corpse? He chortled to himself. Of course he still remembered the humiliation at Uther's and Arthur's hands at Astolat followed by the treaty….
…a treaty brought about by the unnatural earthquake and storm in mid-battle….
Uther hates magic. Still he used it when he wanted to! I will find his pet sorcerer. When I do, that one will burn on the pyre for insolence! He brought his fist down on the arm rest. Speaking of that, where is Morgause? She suspected something. She should be back by now! He frowned. Surely she did not slink off. She could be plotting against me as she did Cenred. His eyes flared for a couple of heartbeats.
Two subordinates in crimson tunics slowly approached. They bowed.
"Aye? What is it, Worms?" Meleagant spat in their direction.
The slender one on the right trembled. His uneven teeth clattered against themselves. "S…sire, we have the reports from the roads around us."
The other gulped. "Sire, the south and west roads have knights marching on them. Our…scouts report Tintagel and Gallic knights to the south. Nemeth's and some Camelot's soldiers are to the west. That's where Lady Morgause went."
"Which way? You reported on two!" Meleagant snapped akin to a starving pit bull lunging for a wounded animal.
"The west." The second clerk quivered and bowed his head.
She would not have simply gone for a ride. Nay! She knows where Uther's sorcerer is! He grinned. Perhaps he would not get to torture that prat after all. He knew she would however. As long as she brought him the sorcerer's head, he would satisfy himself with that. "Pendragon and the servant wench?"
"We have searched the citadel three times, Sire." The right servant wavered on his legs. He struggled to stand. "Our…our knights search the Lower Town…"
"FIND THEM!" Meleagant bellowed in their faces. "NOW!" He pointed toward the door.
The lackeys bowed. They hustled backwards toward the door. Their feet pressed them as far from that throne as they could manage.
He sniggered. Amusement spread the grin across his face. He would keep his own subjects in place. Then he'd break those fools remaining within the walls. He pondered his spies' intelligence from a few weeks earlier. The old king died and Accolon still plays knight in Iberia. Old Rodor does not have a son to rule after him or to lead his troops. The Tom Boy Princess needs a muzzle and a good beating to teach her respect! He coughed at that forthcoming pleasure.
When the time came, he would swat the insects. For now, let them buzz around their nests….