Chapter 2: Sojourn in Brittany

A heavy mist hung over the encampment, the sound of early morning birdsong echoing eerily through its shadows. Uther flung the course material of his tent open, stepping out into the chill morning air and stretched deeply. As he rubbed the stiffness from his neck and shoulder he surveyed the growing field of tents and makeshift shelters that littered the countryside around him.

Four long years, he thought with a sigh. He had been just eighteen when he and his brother had fled Albion and sought refuge with Gaul, finally settling here in Brittany. Cholthar II, King of all the Franks, had granted them safe passage in return for their support of his rule in uniting Gaul and here they had stayed, slowly gathering arms and men; awaiting the time when they could strike back at the usurper Vortigern. Uther had come of age in a foreign country and his fingers tingled with the anticipation of having his revenge on the wily old goat that had taken everything from him.

Peering through the mist, Uther spotted his brother at a rough-hewn table, intently studying a pile of parchments and crude maps and he hurried over to join him, eager for any news of their homeland.

"Good morrow Aurelius," he said, his eyes darting quickly over the papers laid out before them, "What news have you from Albion?"

"Greetings brother, not good news for the people I'm afraid… but good for us none the less," Aurelius replied.

"How so?" Uther questioned quizzically.

"Vortigern the rat has taken a second wife – Rowena of Saxony."

"A Saxon?" exclaimed Uther in horror, "He would not dare!"

"It seems he has formed an alliance with Hengist and Horsa in exchange for Hengist's daughter's hand in marriage," continued Aurelius, his eyes flashing in anger, "I have just received reports that that saucy vixen has now convinced Vortigern to grant Hengist vassal rights over the Kingdom of Thanet. The Saxons sweep the land as we speak and our people are left destitute."

Uther clenched his fists angrily in impotent rage, kicking at the tree stump that served as foundation to the table before him, "Must our whole country be torn apart before we can end this madness Aurelius?"

His brother and rightful King of Albion stared grimly at him, his green eyes alight with the fire of redemption, "As terrible as this news is I do believe it is in our favour," he said urgently, turning once again to stare at the maps and diagrams of his beloved country, "The people are in uproar and there is talk of civil war… there has never been a better time to strike at Vortigern than now."

"Even against Saxons?" asked Uther, no trace of cowardice in his voice, simply curiosity at his brother's plans.

"They will be nothing compared to the army that we shall amass, the people and the nobleman shall unite as one," he replied ardently, gripping Uther's shoulders as he spoke, "That slithering snake spread countless lies about our brother and convinced the court and the common people to follow him like sheep… now his fruits have shown him to be oozing with rot and he will pay dearly for his treachery."

Uther rested his hand firmly on Aurelius's shoulder, nodding confidently in agreement, "I do not doubt you my King, for that is what you rightfully are… I will fight with you to the death."

Aurelius grinned suddenly, his impetuous nature dazzling Uther as he flung his arm around his younger brother's shoulder, "To the death indeed Uther but let us not get ahead of ourselves and wish to be immortalised in Avalon before our time," gripping Uther in a playful headlock he tousled his hair good humouredly, "Think of that beautiful wife languishing in Albion just waiting for your betrothal to be consummated… we shall make a man of you yet brother!"

Twisting himself free from his brothers grasp Uther rubbed his neck in mock displeasure, "And what of you Aurelius Ambrosius, rightful King of all Albion… will you uphold our Father's wishes and honour your betrothal to Margarete? The Princess who's name is fairer than her face?"

Aurelius clasped his hands behind his back, his face taking on a serious and stern look as he regarded his younger brother. Uther's face fell as he sensed he had perhaps gone too far, "As King I will of course honour my Father and uphold the proposed marriage to Margarete… and…" he added, a devilish glint appearing in his eye, "any other young strumpet who happens to wander my way."

Laughing loudly at his own joke, Aurelius pushed Uther before him, punching his arm in mirth, "Come brother, you must meet our latest allies who will no doubt make our noble war a success."

Two men sat speaking in low voices next to the long dead remains of a large camp fire. Both were dressed simply with thick, heavy cloaks wrapped protectively around them. The older of the two sported a rough silvery-white beard, his skin deeply lined with age and his pouched eyes were red from lack of sleep. The younger had jet black hair and soft brown eyes that peered out sagely from beneath his heavy eyebrows.

"Alwyn!" cried Aurelius warmly as they approached the two men, grasping the older man's arm in greeting, "tell me you got at least a little rest and did not sit up all night by the fire?"

"These are troubling times Sire," replied the silver-haired man, smiling sadly at the young would-be king, "There is much to discuss."

"Of course old friend but you must keep your strength about you also," refuted Aurelius as he raised his arm to gesture at Uther, "This is my brother, Uther Pendragon, he is my second in command here in Brittany."

Uther pulled back his shoulders and puffed out his chest proudly at these words and grasped Alwyn's arm in his own in greeting.

"Alwyn is the much revered leader of the eastern provincial order of Druids and he has come to join our cause and rid Albion of Vortigern and his Saxon scum."

"The whole land weeps under his tyranny Aurelius; I will not rest until the people are free."

"Nor I," agreed his brown eyed companion, rising from his position next to the spent fire to stand beside the three men.

"Forgive me," interjected Alwyn, extending his arm toward his companion, "This man has long held a trusted place among the Druids; he is a Dragonlord and has sworn to use his gifts to our benefit."

"Greetings Sire, my Lord," said the Dragonlord, bowing briefly at Aurelius and nodding his head in respect at Uther, "I am your servant and will aid you any way I can… my name is Balinor."

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