Merlin

'Very well, Vortigern, tell me your dream and, if I find a meaning in it, I will tell you.'

The grizzled red head nodded absently and he was silent for a moment, then began abruptly. 'I saw the pit the workmen dug at your bidding and at the bottom they struck a great stone and it broke and the water gushed forth – as it did, you know – and then you ordered the water to be drawn off by means of a ditch. This was done and, when the pool was carried away, a great cavern was discovered, and in it two great stones like eggs.'

He paused to swill some wine from a cup, and then continued, never looking at me with his eyes, but staring at the dead embers on his hearth. 'Inside the stone eggs were two dragons that came forth to battle one another. The first was white as milk, and the other – the other was red as blood. And they fought one another, shaking the very ground with then- furious fight.

'Oh, it was terrible to behold! Their jaws foamed, their tails thrashed, and with their claws they slashed one another. Flames flew out from their mouths! First the white would be above, and then beneath, and the same with the red dragon. Sorely they wounded one another, I tell you, and when neither could fight any more, they dragged themselves back to their eggs and slept, only to fight once again when they had rested.

'That is all, though it filled me with such terror that I awoke at once.' Vortigern dashed down the last of the wine and sat back, fixing his narrow eyes on me at last. 'Well, what say you, Myrddin? What of these dragons in the pit and their fierce fight?'

I answered him forthrightly, for I had seen the meaning in my mind as he spoke. 'Yours was a true dream, Vortigern. And here is its meaning: the dragons are kings yet to come, who will contend with one another for the Island of the Mighty – white for the Saecsen horde, blood red for the true Sons of Britain.'

'Which is fated to win, Myrddin?'

'Neither will triumph over the other until the land is united. In truth, the man has not been born who can bind the tribes of Britain together.'

He nodded again, slowly. 'What of me, Myrddin? What will happen to Vortigern?'

'Do you really want to know?'

'I must know.'

'Even now, Aurelius and Uther are sailing from Armor-ica-'

'So you have said,' he snorted, 'in that tale of yours.'

'They will arrive with fourteen galleys and put ashore tomorrow in the south. Meanwhile, Hengist has gathered his war brood and they march to meet you now. Your enemies are arrayed on every side. As you have done much evil, much evil will be done to you. Yet, if you would save your life, you must flee, Vortigern.'

'Is there nothing else I can do?'

I shook my head. 'Flee, Vortigern, or stay and face the wrath of those you have wronged. Make no mistake, Aurelius and Uther seek the blood price for their brother; they mean to pluck back their realm, and the kings of Britain march with them.'

'Is there no hope for me?' This was spoken softly, but without self-pity. Vortigern knew what he had done and, likely, had long ago weighed out the losses against the gains.

'Here is your hope, Lord Vortigern, and the hope of our people: from the events which you have set in motion will arise a king who will hold all Britain in his hand, a High King who will be the wonder of the world – a Chief Dragon to utterly devour the white dragon of the pit.'

He smiled grimly and stood. 'Well, if I am to flee, I must be about it. Will you accompany me, Myrddin? I would have you with me for your presence is a balm to me.'

'No,' I told him. 'My road lies another way. Farewell, Lord Vortigern. We will not meet again.'

Pelleas and I departed the camp as Vortigern called his chieftains to order the march east, where he hoped to elude the vengeance of the brothers swooping down on him. It would go ill with fox Vortigern, yet there was nothing for it but to face the justice he had so long denied.

We were well away from the stronghold, riding down between the crease of the hills and out of sight. Pelleas, glancing a last time over his shoulder at the heads of the druids adorning a row of pikes along the ridgeway, sighed with relief. 'That is over.'

'For Vortigern, yes,' I replied, 'but not for us.'

'We ride to Ynys Avallach, do we not?'

'We do, but our stay there will not be long.'

'How long?' he asked, dreading my answer.

'A few days,' I told him, 'that is all. I wish it were more, believe me.'

'But -' He was remembering his master's temperament and how quickly moods and plans could change. 'But it is not to be.'

I shook my head gently. 'No, it is not to be.'

We rode on a pace or so, and then I reined up. 'Pelleas, listen carefully to me now. You have found me and brought me back to the world of men, and I thank you for that. But it is in my mind that you will soon curse the day you begged my service. You will wish, perhaps, that you had never wasted a day in searching for me.'

'Forgive me, my lord, but your own heart will prove traitor before I do,' he swore. And I knew he meant it with all that was in him.

'What I have to do will earn no man's thanks,' I warned him. 'It could be that before I am through I will be despised from one end of this island to the other, with every hand raised against me and those who stand with me.'

'Let others make their choice; I have made mine, my Lord Merlin.'

He was in earnest, and now that I knew he understood how hard it would be, I knew I could trust him with both our lives. 'So be it,' I said. 'May God reward your faith, my friend."

We rode on then, considerably lighter of heart than before, for we had spoken the bond between us and our old places had been reclaimed. Pelleas was content, and so was I.

Aurelius and Uther, sons of Constantine by separate mothers and as different as dawn and dusk, would end Vorti-gern's reign with swift justice. Aurelius, the elder of the two, would be the next High King and would prove an inspired leader. His mother was Aurelia, the last flower of a noble Roman family – a claim which Constantine himself could make somewhat less certainly – whose forebears included a governor, a vicarius, a long line of distinguished magistrates, and scores of well-married and highly-revered women.

But Aurelia took fever and died suddenly when Aurelius was three years old. And Constantine, fresh from his victories over the harrying Pict, Scot, and Saecsen, had become smitten with the daughter of one of the defeated Saecsen leaders. In a fit of generosity towards the vanquished, he married the fair-haired beauty, a girl named Onbrawst. Little Uther was born a year later.

Both boys, near enough in age, were raised together in the old Roman manner, under the tutelage of a household servant. Their older brother, Constans, pledged to God from birth, was schooled apart, living with the priests at the little monastery at Venta Bulgarum. When Constantine was murdered by one of his slaves – vengeful Pict whose clan had been defeated years before – old Gosselyn, Archbishop of Londinium, became afraid for the younger boys' lives. He took Aurelius and Uther under his wing.

When, as a result of Vortigern's manipulations, Constans met his sorry end, Gosselyn wisely removed the boys from harm, sending them to an obscure priory in King Hoel s lands in Armorica – near enough to keep an eye on, far enough away not to be a threat to Vortigern's ambition. There they had grown to manhood, biding their time until they could return and claim their rightful place in the world.

This they would do, but they would soon need help if they were to advance the High Kingship beyond the mark made by Vortigern. Hengist would see to it that they had no rest, no opportunity to consolidate their gains, and the other kings, once Hengist was beaten back, would grant them no peace either. In short, they would need my help.