12. …and Marriages.
"My lords, ladies and gentlemen of Camelot, we are gathered here today to celebrate by the ancient rite of handfasting… the union of Uther Pendragon and Ygraine de Bois."
Uther stared stoically at the wizened and serious face of Sir William of Malmesbury as he began the long awaited marriage rites in his role as master of ceremonies. To his right, Geoffrey of Monmouth, the not quite so wizened looking cleric, held out the ancient book of law for him to read from.
An oppressive weight of resignation settled onto the young prince's shoulders as he stole a sideways glance at his bride. Long golden curls framed a sweet and open face; her eyes were clear blue and her lips soft and full, turning naturally into a graceful smile. He could not deny that she was indeed a great beauty… and yet time and again it was the pale skin of Lonán that flashed before his eyes, her raven hair and pure green eyes all that he could think of even now.
Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of all he had denied himself… and all that he had lost, for the sake of his duty, Uther forced himself to focus on the ceremony at hand.
"Is it your wish Uther, to become one with this woman?" questioned Sir William, gesturing at the two of them with a shaking hand.
"It is," he replied, a little too loudly.
"And is it your wish Ygraine, to become one with this man?"
The beautiful daughter of Athol de Bois inclined her head demurely, "It is," she confirmed quietly.
"Do any say nay?" asked Sir William dramatically, relishing his role as he stared expectantly at the room packed with courtiers, noblemen and freemen alike.
As the ceremony continued, Uther felt his eyes stray to the frail, emaciated form of his elder brother, supported on both sides as he was by Gaius and his manservant Torquil. The passing weeks had been nothing but brutal to the King, his mysterious illness continuing to baffle both Gaius and Abraith so that now all were resigned to watch the once powerful and majestic sovereign slowly lose his last impossible battle.
"Will you have this man to be your lord and husband?" Sir William was saying to Ygraine, "to live together in marriage?"
"I will," she replied without hesitation.
"Will you love him, comfort him, honour and respect him as thine own self?"
"I will."
"And keep him in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I will."
Sir William stepped forward toward them both and gestured for them to clasp their hands together, "With this garland I do tie a knot," he said, binding a length of strong vine around their wrists and wrapping it all the way to the tips of their fingers, "and in doing so," he continued, "bind your hands and your hearts for all eternity."
Ygraine's hand was cool and dry inside his own as Sir William instructed them to turn and speak their vows of declaration directly to each other. Uther forced himself to meet her gaze and repeat the words verbatim, in echo of the older man's prompts.
I, Uther Pendragon," he began, "do take thee, Ygraine de Bois, as my partner and mate. Never shall I seek to do thee harm; always will I strive for thine own happiness and welfare. I shall not seek to change thee in any way… I shall respect thee as I respect myself.
"I vow to….. love…" he intoned, his speech catching on this most emotive of words and he cleared his throat quickly to hide his faltering voice, "to love, honour, cherish and support thee, even as I ask these things in return. All this may the Gods grant us and favour our sacred union together."
Then it was Ygraine's turn to utter her bridal vow of dedication, her face calm and sure as she repeated her vows as they were laid out by the master of ceremonies. If she had noticed the catch in Uther's voice, the fact did not betray itself in her demeanour.
"And so the bond is made," declared Sir William with a flourish, fastening off the knotted garland and raising both his hands in the air in exaggerated delight, "In the joining of hands and the fashioning of a knot, so are your lives now bound," he concluded, "one to another. What has been so joined together, may no man put apart. By the symbols of this union, I now pronounce you… husband and wife."
As the couple turned to face the expectant crowd there was a great fanfare and a deafening cry of celebration that filled the court. In a blur of well-wishers they were whisked into the Grand Hall for the real festivities to commence.
Uther stood awkwardly amongst the throng, goblet of mead in hand, smiling politely at the mass of dignitaries that jostled to congratulate him as he watched his new wife from a distance, speaking quietly with her ladies in waiting.
"I believe I shall retire for the night brother," said Aurelius quietly by Uther's shoulder. Turning to face his elder sibling, Uther's eye's widened at the gaunt and withered King before him. The effort of attending the marriage ceremony had sapped the last of the poor man's strength and now his hollow eyes sagged in their sunken holes, his skin paper-thin and hanging from his bones. The flesh about his mouth had blistered with pocks and the foul stench of disease clung to him like a garment.
"Of course Sire," he replied hurriedly, grasping the Kings arm gently in his own.
Aurelius curled his skeletal fingers around Uther's hand and pulled him weakly toward him. As his brother lowered his head obediently he looked searchingly into his eyes, his lips quivering as he sought out the right words.
"Father…" he said at last, "Father would have been so proud of the man you have become Uther… I am proud."
Uther said nothing as his brother's fingers slipped from his arm, unused as he was to this sort of praise from the King. With one final nod of his head he turned to leave and Torquil stepped forward to help his liege return to his chambers to rest.
With a strange feeling of pride and sadness, Uther focused once more on the celebrations happening around him. Waving for his goblet to be re-filled, the prince made his way over to a large group of his knights all long past the realms of sobriety.
"…did not waste any time!" Sir Bors the Younger was saying as Uther joined them mid-sentence, stepping up behind the young knight, "I heard tell they were married not three days past and are now residing at his family home in Glevum."
"Glevum?" repeated Uther in surprise, causing the knights to turn suddenly and face him in unison, "Glevum is the citadel of the House of Gorlois! Has young Rufus been wedded?"
"Ah… no Sire," stammered Bors, his face reddening in embarrassment that he had not noticed the prince approach.
"Then who?" asked Uther amiably, looking in bewilderment at the sea of nervous faces before him. "Surely old Gorlois the Elder would not have married off Evelyn already… she is but a child?"
Bors glanced apprehensively at his fellow knights for solidarity, but none would meet his gaze.
"Out with it man!" cried Uther in frustration.
"Gorlois…" muttered Bors at last, "Gorlois the Younger is newly wed."
The prince paled visibly as the reality of that statement slowly sunk in and a nauseated look of understanding flashed across his face. Clenching his jaw in anger, a strangled cry of rage gurgled upon his lips as he lurched forward and gripped the unfortunate knight by the jerkin. This sudden outburst caught the attention of the raucous crowd and all eyes were drawn to the heated scene, the cacophony of music and laughter dying quickly all around them.
"Who sir, tell me at once… to whom is he married!" demanded the prince impatiently, ignorant of the spectacle he was causing.
Sir Bors tried desperately to maintain his balance as Uther pushed him back forcibly in his anger, "Lo..Lornán my Lord!" he stuttered, "I am sorry… he has wed the Princess Lornán of Éire!"
Releasing Bors with a sudden thrust of annoyance, Uther fixed him with a steel-like glower, "How has this come to pass… how is this even possible?"
Sir Caradoc stepped closer to the prince and raised his hands as if to ward off an imaginary blow as he addressed him, "Gorlois escorted the princess to the shores of Éire at the foot of Mount Killaraus as you instructed sire," he began, attempting to pacify the prince's anger. "However King Dubhán would not have her back… he swore he would murder her for her treachery rather than welcome her back into his court."
Uther took a deep breath, allowing these words to sink in as Sir Hectimere picked up the narrative, "Gorlois simply wed her to protect her my Lord-"
"That does not explain how they managed to wed in the first place," interrupted Uther, "No nobleman of the Pendragon court can marry without the express permission of the King!"
"But… my Lord, they had permission," Caradoc replied, "King Aurelius signed the papers himself…"
"Sire, my deepest apologies," said Bors contritely, "It was not my intention to…" his words trailed off as the prince waved him away dismissively, sitting down heavily at a nearby table.
An uneasy chatter rose slowly in the Grand Hall as people began to drift away from the group of knights, losing interest in the surely expression of the groom as he continued to stare into nothing in silence at the table.
"Come husband, will you not be merry on your wedding day?"
Uther snapped back to attention at these words and looked up to see his new bride smiling kindly down at him. Something in her open, gentle manner softened his mood and a twinge of guilt curled in his belly; after all, she had asked for this marriage no more than he had, the least he could do was feign civility with her.
"My apologies wife," he replied quietly as he rose to his feet before her, "come, let the music play once more."
With a clap of his hands the musicians obediently began to play a merry jig and soon the frivolity of the gathering had been all but restored. Standing close to his new bride, Uther turned and regarded her seriously, appraising the kind and gentle features of her countenance.
"Do you see now what you have married? What you have bargained for?" he demanded bitterly.
With a soft knowing look, Ygraine turned her head and met the prince's gaze, "Did you think the house of de Bois ignorant of the activities of the house of Pendragon?" she replied with a hint of amusement in her voice. "I well know that you were in love with Princess Lonán of Éire and that you fathered a child by her."
"You are misinformed madam," rejoined Uther sardonically, "the child did not survive."
Ygraine's eyes widened in shock and a look of deep sadness fell upon her face, "My Lord, I had not heard… I am truly sorry."
"It is what it is," replied the prince gruffly, "I am just sorry you do not have a more willing husband."
"You believe that I was eager for this marriage?" smiled Ygraine, attempting to make light of his confessed lack of feeling toward her, "No Uther, I understand that this is a marriage of political and social convenience. My Father commanded my co-operation with this alliance as much as Aurelius did yours, I am sure."
"My Brother thinks only of the people of Albion," defended Uther automatically, "with his failing health you must know that if I did not marry as the council advised-"
"You would not ascend to the throne, the country would be without a King… and all would fall into chaos, yes," said Ygraine glibly, "I am aware of the circumstances… I simply wish to make the best of them as I can."
Uther saw the honesty and sincerity in the young princess's eyes and made a vow to himself then that he would always strive to make their union bearable for her… even if he could not give her his heart.
"You are right of course," he said with a slight bow of his head, "Come, let us talk no more of these troublesome things… it is a wedding after all." With a small conciliatory smile, the prince extended his hand to his bride and led her toward the centre of the Grand Hall where a crowd of courtiers were moving harmoniously in time to the soaring beat of the music, their steps perfectly synchronised as they wove in and out of each other.
No sooner had the bride and groom joined themselves to this merry group than Uther became aware of a rustling of whispers rippling across the room and some raised voices coming from the corridor that he could not make out. Looking around in confusion and careful not to lose his step and crush an unfortunate nobleman's toe, he saw one of the King's personal guard come hurrying into the hall. Already most of the room had noted his sudden appearance and the music and its dancers came to an awkward stop for the second time that evening.
Looking quickly around the room, the guard took a deep breath and repeated the message he had been shouting out in the passageways just as the bells began to toll, "The King is dead!" he cried urgently, his eyes scanning the hall until they fell at last upon Uther, "Long live the King!"
A/N – Apologies for how hideously long this took me to update… I hate moving house…