Chapter eight: Beginning of the end
The small kingdom of Nemeth fell into the hands of the Saxons from Mercia around the same time Merlin returned to Camelot. And it was but a few days later Princess Mithian sought refuge in the stronghold of a town he called home. To their shared sadness her father Rodor had fallen. His frail age had no longer been a match to war and battle… even though he had stood tall and proud until the day he died for his people.
The Mercian leaders and their Saxon army, which had once had helped Morgana, had also swept through Escetir with the killer efficiency of a sharp blade. Rumours soon rose about what little remained of Cenred's legacy meant nothing to King Lot, who had tried to fight off the invaders and lost in spite of his brutal manners towards strangers. For once it were not other people's heads which were displayed in the castle.
It was only by sheer stubborn determination so far that King Odin refused to surrender his smaller kingdom. But for how much longer could he cling on to his borders?
Odin's neighbour, and the last country of the five kingdoms, Caerleon had not faced the Saxon army head on yet, but no one in Camelot doubted that they soon would get drawn into battle as well. Therefore their King Leon sent a messenger accompanied by three knights in red cloaks rode off to warn Queen Annis about what awaited her. The brave men were to carry his reports with them on their shared enemy's movements.
The three remaining Kingdoms of Albion needed to form a united front, but how? To Merlin's sadness it seemed a hard task to get the Camelot Council alone to agree on a way to bring about a union within their walls. At the latest court meeting the opinions of the various council members stood further apart than ever before…
Lord Barton, who had always come across as conservative and fearful of the Old Ways to Merlin, even had the audacity to claim that magic was behind the downfall of Albion after all. "Uther would have never allowed for it to weaken us so…"
Under a glare of King Leon the nobleman faltered. "The past is done. We need to focus on the future of our alliance, and how we can strengthen our borders to give refuge to those who are willing to stand by us."
Percival took the cue to talk, a calm aura of quiet strength in his manners as he leaned forward. "I have ridden along the eastern border, Sire. There is no straightforward way to keep control of it. Escetir has always fended for itself, because King Lot never wanted any aid to bring its fractured court together. He wanted to rule by fear and found his harsh laws got thrown back into his face by the Lords who abandoned him before battle even begun. As a result both Engerd and Oakdale are once more riddled with bandits, smugglers and slave traders. The castle of Escetir too is all but ruined."
"What about Ealdor?" Merlin had listened in growing fear, and he blurted out his question regardless the rules of propriety at court. He was just too worried for his mother, whom he had not spoken to since he walked off with Iseldir.
Leon winced before he looked at Merlin. "Last we've heard is that the villagers have fled to the mountains. The day before your arrival we received word from a village elder; a short note in which he requested refuge in Camelot on behalf of twenty men, women and children."
Gwen looked between them before she nodded to Merlin. "Don't worry, we have granted it to them. As we speak Sir Raynold and a dozen of our best knights are riding out for the mountains to aid them." She smiled in a gesture of comfort, "If Hunith travels with them she will be here in a day."
Relieved that Gwen saw it fit to protect the refugees Merlin smiled his thanks to her while he crossed his fingers in his mind in a prayer for his mother. She had always been strong and resilient to him, but he feared for her life all the same. Hunith wasn't as young as she used to be, and not even as unhindered by age as she pretended to be.
Setting aside his worries Merlin offered, "After they arrive we should all gather behind the town walls. The lower town and the fields beyond are vulnerable at best. I can cast a protective spell over the houses, but it won't hold indefinitely. It will give the people enough time though to run for cover to the citadel if push comes to shove."
"Very well", Gwen praised his input.
Lord Barton cleared his throat to say, "We can not be sure whether King Ecbert of Mercia seeks to destroy us. For all we know they may wish for an alliance with Camelot. I have heard Hwycca struck a deal and they have not lost their borders… maybe we should do the same."
Leon nodded. "It is possible indeed we can negotiate with Ecbert for peace. That said, I do think it is best we prepare for more than one option. In the past Saxon soldiers have sided with Morgana against Camelot… and so we need to be on high alert from now on, no matter which path they have chosen this time. At some stage we can invite them to court for talks. For now though I say we proceed with caution…"
"Sir Percival", the King turned to his senior knight and friend. "Increase the number of patrols on the eastern border, and send ten of our knights to Odin to show him that he can rely on our support. The kingdoms which have remained standing so far need to stick together."
"Yes, Sire."
In the royal chambers Leon stared out of the window which overlooked the courtyard. Though he did not quite see the people who walked down there he took comfort in the fact most of them went about their daily chores. Once he too had started his days early, always working hard. Now that he was King though he felt a different sort of pressure and responsibility. Every single man, woman and child down there depended on the choices he made… and it weighed heavy on his soul.
More than ever he understood why his fallen friend Arthur had on some days looked close to wanting to pull his hair out. It could be so frustrating to deal with a torn council! Some Lords made his life easy, for they worked with him and sought to serve their king with advice and well thought out ideas. Others though… well, Leon realised with a grin… they were every inch the despicable noblemen who looked out for number one like Gwaine so often had grumbled about. Gods, on days like today he sure missed the man's throw away comments filled with humour, as well as his unique view on life.
News had come from Odin's Lands, and it was far from good. The King had lost his life when least expected. All it had taken was betrayal in the form of a pouch of coins handed to the manservant who served him until his last breath, and a vial of poison.
Odin was a hard man to like, one who had never made the life of others easy. The saddest thing to Leon about his reasons for being so headstrong and sometimes far from diplomatic all came down to the loss of his son… who got killed in a tournament by none other than King Arthur, then still a naïve prince. On the surface Odin had begrudgingly accepted his last apology, but who knew what was being said in his court behind closed doors? The manservant had whispered in his King's ears right up until the day he poured him the last drink and killed him on the spot.
It was no wonder, nor was it unusual, that insidious rumours of old grew stronger in the wake of a powerful man's death. Whispers of Camelot being behind the fall of Odin could not quite be vanquished; no matter how hard Leon and Gwen vowed it was untrue. To the sadness of their council and court they had to stand by and hear that Odin's Lands were gifted to Mercia in name of peace and a new alliance. They no longer wanted anything to do with Camelot!
The message of that choice hit hard around the Round Table. Where the leaders of Camelot were unsure before about which road to take before now the tear between two choices drew as sharp as a line in the sand. Lord Barton, the oldest son of Aldrich, had made a powerful speech about how they too needed to embrace the Saxon ways and cast magic aside, even if just to save the people and their home. "Is magic worth losing everything else we've worked so hard for?"
Leon had watched in stunned shock and a touch of pride when Merlin reacted to his spiel with a dark glare. "We? It was King Arthur who won the battle of Camlann, with the aid of magic… or have you forgotten? We've had many seasons of peace, made a powerful allegiance which would have stayed strong if not for greed."
"Whose greed, Lord Emrys?" Barton had huffed, "I have only ever stood by my King and Queen, even when they are not of royal birth. The choices we have all made around this table led us to here… on the brink of losing our town, our home."
"No", Percival disagreed. "The soldiers have not arrived yet. There is still time to rise up against Mercia."
"Agreed. What remains of Camelot when we let go of our values and everything we have fought for?" Sir Raynold had put his finger on another one of Leon's sore spots. "King Arthur showed us the way and Sire, you have watched over his legacy to date. We can not give in now…"
Barton had not let noble reasons and advice from a 'mere' knight change his mind. "What use are old values and staying stuck in them when lives are at stake? No, I say we invite King Ecbert to our court and admit defeat to him, before all is lost."
At that point everyone had started to mutter, or talk in a growing discussion of heated arguments. In the chaos though Merlin remained quiet. Leon knew that his friend was still considering strategies, and possibilities for his kind to aid the knights. Ever since word came first about soldiers closing in on Albion the warlock had begun to dig in his heals in name of Camelot. On his call magic gifted folk had shown him how to aim arrows and spears without a bow. Working together; it became the motto Leon embraced and he knew half of his council did too.
But why not the others? Was he wrong to hold on to what he had always fought for and believed in? Barton had spoken well. Even though Leon could not reconcile with what his intentions and reasons were he had to admit the man had a flair with words. It upset him that he had never been a talker himself. People around the table had looked at him for a reaction of inspiration, but all he had managed were commands, words of action rather than elegance and passion. Merlin had a far better tongue about him. Was that why Arthur had let his servant write his speeches?
Staring out over the courtyard Leon could not fathom why some Lords were so fearful of their cushioned status that they'd rather sell out the values Camelot still tried to stand up for. Was it greed like Merlin said? More and more Leon did not like the fact that he could not hold his court together in the way Arthur had. People had no trouble following his predecessor. The former King had evoked loyalty, courage and a strong sense of one united front in others. Why… and how? Leon did not quite know.
Uther had ruled by fear, and by sheer strength of stubborn persistence. Odin, Rodor… and even Lot had been great personalities too. Annis as well had more of a presence than he did. In his quiet consult of his mind Leon decided that he needed to become stronger, drive a harder line towards his torn council so that he could enforce the union they needed so much. Yes, he decided as he saw a new group of refugees arrive, the people would have to see that he too could be a King during war time.
Camelot had always looked glamorous and beautiful to her, but as Hunith leaned on her uninjured leg and walking stick she looked over the courtyard with a sad sigh. It had fallen so quiet this dawn that she could not help but feel alone. Even the soldiers who stood on guard had solemn looks on their faces and their swords seemed somehow dull in the sunlight. Was it her age which made her look at the world with such sadness? She had always been optimistic before…
But as she began to cross the pavement of cobblestones she remembered the world outside the gates. Her home had burned. Ealdor got turned to rubble… just like so many other small villages she knew well. She had seen desperate farmers try to beat off the soldiers, but their pitchforks were no match to chainmail clad and well trained men. Not once had the enemy cared to listen to their screams. No, all the battle hardened men had cared for was land and victory. Hunith though saw no glory in the blood smeared bodies of her lifeless friends or their thatched houses which got rendered to ashes.
She had arrived in Camelot with nothing but a spark of hope left. Merlin would know what to do… and his friends too, or so she had clung onto her belief. King Leon indeed had listened to her version of events and he had promised that she would be safe, as were her friends from Ealdor. But in the bright light of day she felt less assured. What use was a royal promise when the enemy soldiers marched over in a large army? Recent messages and reports from the patrols brought only more bad news as the days drew colder in preparation of autumn.
Towns on the outskirts of the Kingdom had fallen, and worse than that Mercia had managed to wedge a gap between Camelot and Caerleon. Roads were unsafe now, even when they should not be. No longer could messengers or knights travel between Annis' castle and back to Camelot again without risking enemy intervention. Some whispered about betrayal, because every patrol came back with a few men down, no matter when or where they travelled. It almost felt like their plans were thwarted from the inside out.
Merlin had grumbled to her about certain council members. Through his stories and complaints she began to see more and more what was lost on the day Arthur died. It was dangerous ground when values like loyalty and brave noble pride for their people began to slip. King Leon seemed a good man to her in every way. He was loyal in his friendship to her son, and his kindness had offered many more refugees a roof over their heads. As far as she could see he had no mean bone in his body… and maybe that was why the council grew more and more divided?
Whispers stretched further into the dark, and even in the light of day. Hunith had heard how some began to believe in Barton's colder stance towards magic users. To her it was easy to see how he tried to point blame and failure at everyone but himself. The fact though that he spoke them with elegance and well chosen words only aided him in his point of view… but what goal was the man aiming for? He said he wanted to make peace with Mercia. Was it even a possibility still when the enemy King never returned Leon's messages for peace talks?
Defences rose firm around town. Every man stood on high alert… even those with magic, though most of the more peaceful druids had fled the area by now. Hunith worried for each person inside the walls. With a shiver she tried to shake off the thought so she could focus on the main reason why she came outside. Where was her son in the quiet of the tense morning?
Again Merlin had not even slept in his bed, something she realised when she saw the neatness of unwrinkled sheets. The silence in his chambers had met her like a cold winter chill. For too many days now his eyes had grown hollow due to tension and a growing lack of sleep. Every time when she had asked him to stop for a rest he had argued against it or he had excused himself by saying that Leon and Gwen needed his council. As ever he carried too much weight on his shoulders.
On the other side of the courtyard Hunith shivered once again in the cold breeze. From the training ground her son came walking towards her. Black messy hair stood at odd angles from the slight humid weather, a few magic induced grey strands of hair among them. The added wrinkles on his face further showed that her son was an older man now. Hunith smiled wryly at the clever manner in which he had begun to age himself in order to hide the fact that in truth he could not. It saved him from scrutiny by those wary of him, or so he had told her. His latest appearance had Hunith falter though… because the older he masked himself to be and the longer his hair grew the more he looked like his father.
Hunith shook herself from her musings. Her attention instead shifted to her son's slumped shoulders and determined yet somehow unhurried stride which belied the fact that he was more tired than he would admit to anyone. "Mother", spotting her he greeted her with a small smile which failed to reach his eyes.
"Merlin? What is it, son?"
"The first line of defence fell and the last few patrols have retreated behind the walls. Sir Raynold and Percival rode back as fast as they could to inform us. They have estimated that the Saxons will get here before sundown. There is so much we need to do… and I am afraid it won't be enough."
Seeing his resignation dawn Hunith grabbed his hand to stop him from his sad train of thoughts. "Rest first. You may be immortal, my son… but you can still get sick. Let Leon and his knights watch over us for a while. They do know how to do their duty, you know. And you will be of more use to them when you are rested."
His wry smile at last had his eyes crinkle in amusement at her care. "Yes, mother."
Hunith just shrugged while she hooked her arm into Merlin's welcoming offer of support to walk inside together. She knew that he liked to mock her mother instinct to protect him, but it was only out of love for her and to hide the fact that they both feared the inevitable siege which laid in wait for the morrow. Would Camelot stand or fall? Hunith dare not dwell on the question for she feared the outcome would break her son's last hold on his never quite healed heart.
