To his credit, Gorlas, although he welcomed Dunaut and extended the hospitality of hall and hearth to him, refused to participate in any talk of rebellion. Even later, when Coledac and Morcant arrived, Gorlas kept faith with Aurelius, out of respect for the High Kingship and for his daughter's sake.
'But Aurelius is dead,' Dunaut argued. 'Your oath returns now to you. And until you give it again, you are free.'
'You yourself might be High King,' put in Coledac, believing no such thing. 'Then you would not be breaking faith at all.'
'I have more honour than that!' protested Gorlas. 'Yours is a trick of words and has no substance.'
'It makes no sense to me,' Morcant complained. 'You speak of honour and trickery in the same breath – as if we had no thought at all for the good of the realm. We need a strong king to hold the land. Aurelius is gone and since from death there is no return, we must do what we can to honour him by keeping the peace of this land.'
'I will honour him by keeping my oath.' Gorlas would not be moved.
Although he loved Aurelius and wished with all his heart to honour him, he loved his daughter most dearly. And, in the end, it was his love for Ygerna that proved his undoing.
Uther, of course, could not abide this insult to his kingship, and it angered him that he was not unanimously acclaimed as High King – all the more since before his death Aurelius had ordained that Uther should follow him and complete the good works he had begun. Also, he loathed the prospect of having to fight old battles over again, battles he had himself won the first time.
Nor was that all that laboured in Uther's heart, to be sure.
Therefore, when Ceredigawn, whose lands Uther had saved by vanquishing Pascent and Guilomar, sent word that the kings were meeting in secret in Gorlas' rockbound stronghold in the west country, Uther delayed not a moment, but gathered such warriors as he commanded and any who could be summoned at once, and off they rode to Tintagel.
It was high summer, with 'days bright as new-burnished blades and nights mellow as honeyed mead, and, our work finished, Pelleas and I had returned to Ynys Avallach.
My pact had been with Aurelius, not with Uther. And, despite all I had done for him, Uther made it abundantly clear to me after his crowning that he did not require my services as counsellor. So be it. In truth, I was glad for a rest.
Thus, knowledge of the events at Tintagel reached me slowly and very late. By then the deeds were accomplished and the seeds well and truly sown.
It is a curious thing, I am thinking, that I, who have so often stood at the centre of world-shaping events I could not prevent, should so often be absent from those I could have done something about. When I think of the wounds I could have prevented, the bloodshed I could have saved… well, it makes my heart ache.
Great Light, you do not make it easy on a man!
Yet I sojourned with the Fair Folk a goodly while, and allowed the serenity of Avallach's excellent isle to mend my troubled spirit. I had nursed such hopes for Aurelius; he possessed such high promise. His death could not be lightly borne. Still, I remembered the prophecy given me, which I had spoken to Uther, that a son of his noble line should be born who would surpass even Aurelius. In this I took comfort, though I little knew or guessed how or when this should come about.
As I have said, the illumining spirit, like the wind, goes where it will, and sheds a light that all-too-often obscures as much as it reveals.
Charis was pleased to have me with her again. She had learned to treasure our times together – she always did that, yes – without yearning for them to be something more. There is a love which suffocates, just as there is a love which quenches the Same that gives it light and life. These loves are false, and Charis had long ago learned the difference between false love and true.
She now spent her days in healing works; she had learned much of medicines and their properties, and how to cure various wounds and diseases. She traded knowledge with the monks of the Holy Shrine – as well as with those of the Hill Folk she came in rare contact with – and practised her art at the nearby monastery where those suffering from illness or hurt came seeking aid.
We spent many happy days together, and I would have remained content on the Tor indefinitely if not for Uther's urgent summons. Two riders appeared one evening looking for me at the church below the Hill Shrine. The monks told them where to find me and, although the sky still held daylight enough, they waited until the next day to come – fearing to approach the Tor after sunset.
But, when the sun rose again the next morning, they crossed the causeway and climbed the Tor to Avallach's palace. 'We have come searching for the Emrys,' they announced, after being admitted to the courtyard.
'And you have found him,' I answered. 'What do you want with me?"
'We are from the High King, and bring our lord's greetings,' answered the messenger with rough courtesy. 'He bids you to join him at Gorlas' stronghold at Tintagel. We are sworn to take you there.'
'What if I choose not to go with you?' I did not know these men and they obviously did not know me.
The man did not hesitate. 'Then we are instructed to bind you hand and foot and drag you there.'
That was Uther, rope and knot. 'Do you think,' I laughed, 'that anyone could take me anywhere I did not wish to go?'
This worried them. The two men glanced at one another nervously. 'The Pendragon says -' began the first.
'Pendragon?' I mused. 'Chief Dragon – is that what Uther calls himself now?'
'Yes, lord, ever since the night of the Dragon Star when he became king,' the man answered.
So, Uther, you did heed me after all. Yes, it was fitting for him: Uther Pendragon. Well and good, my difficult friend. What else did you learn that night?
The two were peering round anxiously. 'Come, break your fast with me,' I offered. 'And you can tell me more of your errand.'
The messengers eyed me suspiciously. 'You fear for nothing,' I scolded them. 'Be gracious enough to accept hospitality when it is offered you.'
'Well, we are hungry,' admitted one of the men.
'Then come and eat.' I turned and they followed me reluctantly into the hall. Fair Folk always amaze other races, which has its uses. 'Why does he seek me?' I asked as we ate bread and cheese together.
'We do not know, lord.'
'You must know something of your lord's affairs. Why did he send you?'
'We were only told to find you – there are many others searching as well,' the man answered, as if this proved the truth of his words.
I looked at the other rider, who had not spoken. 'What do you know of this? Tell me quickly, for I will not go with you unless I have some better reason to do so than I have heard yet. Speak!'
'Uther requires your aid with his marriage,' the man blurted out, surprising himself completely. It was a secret he had not meant to tell.
Ygerna, of course! But what was I to do? Ygerna was free to marry, and Uther did not need my approval. Yet Uther would not have sent for me if he did not badly need my help. Of that I could be certain.
'What is the trouble?' I asked my abashed accomplice. 'Go on, tell me. No harm will come of telling – though some may if you withhold.'
'It is Gorlas and the others – Dunaut, Morcant, and Coledac – they are holding vigil at Tintagel. Uther surprised them there and challenged them. Between them there was only Gorlas' warband and a few others. To fight Uther would be to invite slaughter upon themselves, so they refused.'
‘They wait up there in Gorlas' stronghold,' put in the other messenger. Now that the stream had begun to trickle it might as well be a flood. 'Uther cannot go in to them, and they will not come out.'
I understood. Uther had indeed surprised the kings. He had ridden hard and arrived while they were still plotting their treason. Since they had not planned on an attack, the kings had brought only an escort and were caught without men and weapons enough to oppose Uther outright.