“Are there any preparations that we need to make here in case one of our neighbors sides against Uther?” Ygerna asked.
Merlin looked at his queen with admiration. She thinks like Uther. No wonder they’re so good together.
“There are,” he replied, “I’ll get started on them immediately.”
“Thank you, Merlin,” Ygerna said, looking at Prince Arthur sleeping in his crib. “Keep me informed.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Uther and the other northern kings arrived at King Ogrfan’s fortress in Ergyng the day before the Council meeting was to begin. Most of the other kings had already arrived. Even King Budic had arrived from Brittany, even though he wasn’t a voting member of the Council. Only two kings were missing: Vortigern and Ambrosius.
Uther and the other northern kings settled into their chambers quickly before seeking out the other kings. It had been several years since the Council had met, and there were friendships to rekindle and deals to be struck before the meetings began.
Ambrosius arrived at nightfall. The other kings were in the great hall when he strode in. Ambrosius immediately congratulated Uther and Nudd-Lludd on the births of their sons before making his rounds to greet the other kings.
As the evening progressed, Uther thought that the gathering seemed congenial enough, but he sensed the tension building. I hope the meetings don’t tear our alliance apart. We cannot stand against the Saxons unless a strong High King keeps us united.
The next morning, servants brought in a large table and set it in the center of the great hall. The banners of each of the kings present stood in holders behind their assigned places. Uther saw his standard – the gold boar on a field of dark blue – and stood behind his seat. Each king was allowed to have a dagger for food, but their swords had to remain outside the great hall. As the kings took their seats, one remained empty: Vortigern’s.
Uther stared at the empty seat. Is he coming? Does he think that he no longer has to answer to us?
There were nervous whispers around the room. Finally, Ambrosius, sitting directly across from Vortigern’s empty chair, stood to address the Council. Before he could speak, there was a commotion in the courtyard outside the great hall. A moment later, Vortigern stormed into the hall, followed by his standard-bearer. The High King crossed to the far side of the great hall without a word. Then he snatched his standard from the standard-bearer, slammed it into its holder, and turned to face the assembled kings.
“How dare you summon this Council without consulting me first?”
Chapter 3
The other kings took their seats, but Ambrosius remained standing, staring defiantly across the table at Vortigern. The High King glared back, waiting to see what Ambrosius would do.
“This Council is not obligated to consult you, King Vortigern. You answer to us, not the other way around.”
Vortigern slammed his fists onto to the table. “You insolent little Roman whelp,” he growled, referring to the fact that Ambrosius was only in his mid-twenties. “How dare you speak to me in that manner?”
Ambrosius sneered. “Better to be an insolent Roman whelp than the Saxons’ lapdog, King Vortigern.”
Vortigern’s face turned red. He seemed unable to speak.
King Ogrfan of Ergyng stood. “My Lords, please. If we cannot respect each other, let us respect our various offices and keep this meeting congenial.”
Ambrosius nodded to his host. “Thank you, Lord Ogrfan. You’re right.” Looking at Vortigern, Ambrosius added, “King Vortigern, will you please take your seat? I promise I’ll answer your initial question presently.”
Vortigern looked confused at Ambrosius’ change of tactic. He sat, and a servant brought him wine to drink. His eyes never left Ambrosius.
“My fellow Kings of Britain,” Ambrosius began. “Most of you know that Hengist and Horsa broke their treaty with us and invaded Lundun and Atrebatia shortly after Easter. Kings Gerren of Dumnonia, Triffyn of Dyfed, Cynyr of Gwent, and our host, King Ogrfan of Ergyng, answered the call and helped my army drive the Saxons back. Losses were high on both sides, but we were victorious.”
King Cadell Ddyrnllug of Powys stood. “Lord Ambrosius, why didn’t you send for the High King when you requested help from the southern kingdoms?”
“I did send messengers to the High King,” Ambrosius replied. He gestured to the southern kings sitting next to him. “We all sent messengers to the High King requesting his help. We received no replies.”
“That’s a lie!” Vortigern shouted.
“It’s no lie,” King Gerren of Dumnonia stated. “My messengers returned saying that they were forced to speak with Queen Rowenna because you were ‘attending to more pressing matters.’ I’d like to know what those pressing matters were, King Vortigern.”
“There were no pressing matters that would keep me from receiving or responding to your messages,” Vortigern insisted. “The queen never told me about any messengers that she received on my behalf.”
“Hardly surprising, since the messages requested that your armies help fight against her father,” King Triffyn of Dyfed said sarcastically.
Vortigern slowly rose to his feet, red-faced and clearly furious. “Are you suggesting that my wife purposely withheld your messages from me out of loyalty to her father?”
“No, King Vortigern,” Triffyn said, standing and facing the High King. “I’m stating it outright. Because any other explanation would be that you committed treason against your fellow kings. Either you have a traitor in your house who’s in league with the Saxons, or you are the traitor in your house.”
Vortigern slumped back into his seat – clearly distraught from the accusation.
King Cadell of Powys and King Brychan of Brycheiniog, both Welsh kings, jumped to their feet and shouted their support for Vortigern. The great hall erupted. Most of the kings began shouting accusations against Vortigern and his queen, but a few shouted their support for the High King. Vortigern continued glaring at Ambrosius but remained silent.
Ogrfan, worried that the kings might start fighting, motioned for the servants to bring in food and wine. The servants placed platters of food around the table and refilled the wine goblets, disrupting the meeting. Ogrfan’s plan worked; the kings grew quiet and sat until the servants left the great hall. Only Ambrosius remained standing with an inscrutable expression on his face as he stared at Vortigern.
“Do you have something else you wish to accuse me of?” Vortigern asked, regaining his composure.
“No,” Ambrosius said calmly. “But I do wish to apologize again for the death of your son, Vortimer. It was unfortunate that he forgot his responsibilities to Britain by attacking me. With his victories over Hengist and Horsa, he’d have made a fine High King. His death returned the High Kingship to you, and that has proved disastrous for us all. You’ve failed in your responsibilities, King Vortigern. You’re not fit for the High Kingship, and I recommend that this Council choose someone to replace you. You will, of course, retain your kingdom of Gwynedd and continue to be a member of this Council, but the title of High King should be stripped from you and given to someone who will faithfully carry out its duties.”
Ambrosius sat down amid the stunned silence of the kings at the table. Even those who expected Ambrosius to recommend electing a new High King were dumbstruck when it actually happened. It was the first time that a High King of Britain had faced such a challenge since before the Roman Legions arrived five hundred years earlier.
It