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loudly, his voice firm, but more brittle
and less commanding than Constantine’s. “We all know his words are
to be seriously considered, for he is a wise and noble man. Yet
have we proof that this coalition is as dire as he tells? For many
have tried to ally with the Picts, with naught to show for it other
than bitter failure and murdered ambassadors.”
    Rience paused, his forehead furrowed as he
looked over the table. "And if we send our armies to meet this
enemy, how can we know that other foes, perhaps even some at this
table, will not take advantage to settle accounts? Indeed, as our
host declared, we have all had our battles among ourselves. If I
commit all of my warriors, might another hold back seeking to gain
advantage at home while we win the victory abroad?"
    He moved his gaze down the table as he
continued his speech. "Who shall lead the armies in the field? I
declare before all that I would follow Constantine, for he is a
renowned warrior, and his lineage is great and noble. Yet we have
heard stories that our host is ill. Pray tell, are we to follow one
of Constantine's sons? Indeed, they are all noble and brave, yet
have they the stature that six kings should serve under them?"
    Constantine rose abruptly, though his body
was wracked with pain, and he slammed his hand on the table. "Old I
am, my friend Rience, with my greener days long past, yet strength
I have remaining for one more war. Pledge your forces to this
battle, and I shall lead them. You have my word, which has never
been broken."
    So went the council, for each king had his
own fears and ambitions, and there would be much talking before any
agreement could be reached. All through the day they bantered and
into the night, when Constantine finally closed the deliberations
for the day, bidding all to sup with him and return on the
morrow.

    Uther wandered through the camps, for the
council was closed to all but the kings and their advisors, and he
was bored. The dawn had been clear and cool, but by midday the sun
had grown warm and Uther took off his cloak. The camps were busy
with everyday tasks, cookfires burning and washerwomen kneeling
along the river doing their daily work. In the distance he could
hear a smith banging on his anvil, likely repairing some armor or
weapon damaged in the tournament the day prior.
    Uther was well known, for despite his young
age he had already won great glory on the field of battle, and as
he passed by the commoners they jumped aside and bowed. He greeted
them with a simple nod and continued on his way, walking slowly
from the river to the edge of the forest. He was about to turn
around and walk back to the castle when he heard his name being
called.
    "Lord Uther, greetings to you. Would you
honor me by joining me for a flagon of ale?"
    Uther turned and saw a familiar face. Lord
Elisedd, one of his father's most important retainers, and a
substantial baron in his own right.
    "Lord Elisedd, it shall be my pleasure to
join you. Indeed, the day has warmed more than I expected, and some
ale would be most welcome."
    Uther walked over, and he and Elisedd locked
hands on arms in a warm greeting. Elisedd called to his servants to
bring ale and motioned for Uther to sit at a large table that was
set before his blue and white tent.
    A servant came rushing over, with a large
flagon and two silver cups. Placing the cups on the table, he
filled each and then bowed. Elisedd waved him off and, leaving the
pitcher on the table, the boy hastily departed.
    Uther and Elisedd talked cheerily, for though
the baron was much older, they had met many times and were friends
of a sort. They had taken the field together twice too, winning
victories on both occasions. Elisedd was speaking of the council,
for rumors were rife throughout the camps, but Uther's attention
was suddenly lost to his companion, for he saw, partially covered
by the flap of the great tent, the most beautiful girl he had ever
laid eyes upon.
    Elisedd soon noticed he had