Arthur, King. William Speir

Vortimer five years ago… He’s very popular in the south. If he can rally even a few of the northern kings, he’ll have proven himself a good candidate for High King.”

      Merlin paused for a moment. “Unless a strong king from the north were to declare himself a candidate.”

      Uther looked at Merlin sharply. “Who, me?”

      Merlin nodded.

      Uther laughed. “Merlin, you’re insane! I have no desire to be High King. I have enough problems up here without having to be concerned with problems in the south. Besides, a High King can’t stay in one place. I’d be traveling and fighting all the time. I’d never see Ygerna or Arthur unless they traveled with me, and what kind of life is that for them? No, Gododdin is mine, and it’s all that I want.”

      “And Vortigern?” Merlin asked.

      “I’ll wait and watch,” Uther replied. “If he fails us again, I’ll throw my support behind a new candidate for High King.”

      “Even if it leads to war between the kings?”

      Uther shook his head in disgust. “I’ve never known such a group of petty, selfish, and easily offended people as those on the Council of Kings. Whoever becomes High King will have to unite them while defending them from invasion. I can’t imagine a more difficult and thankless task. I won’t lightly agree to plunge us into war with each other. The candidate for High King must have the support of a majority of the kings. Otherwise, the Saxons and their allies will use our internal squabbles as an invitation to attack and conquer. We can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.

      The largest log in the fire cracked, sending up a shower of sparks that illuminated the great hall with orange light. Uther refilled his and Merlin’s tankards and sipped his ale in silence.

      If Ambrosius can prove himself again in battle against the Saxons and can unite the southern and central kingdoms, then he’ll have my support as the next High King.

      A few days later, the kings congratulated Uther and Ygerna once more on the birth of Prince Arthur before leaving Din Eidyn to return to their own kingdoms.

      The air was brisk, and the sunlight was bright. Uther’s banner snapped in the breeze over the walls of the hillfort. Standing above the main gates, Uther watched his guests and their retainers and servants ride south down the causeway and disappear in the distance.

      I look forward to seeing them again. Nudd-Lludd’s wife is pregnant and should deliver his first child late in the spring. I’ll be there for the christening, and perhaps by then we’ll know if Vortigern should remain as our High King.

      A clanging behind him caught Uther’s attention. He climbed down off the walls and walked to the northwest corner of the hillfort. Frost crunched underneath his boots as he walked.

      Nestled between the barracks along the western wall and the stables that ran the full length of the norther wall, was the smithy. Uther kept a mounted fighting force of two hundred men in the hillfort, in addition to fifty guards. A dedicated blacksmith and armorer was required to maintain his soldiers’ equipment.

      He walked past the kitchens, storehouses, and workshops clustered around the great house. Then he crossed the soldiers’ training grounds before finally reaching the smithy.

      “My Lord, Uther!” the blacksmith said when Uther entered. “How may I be of service?”

      Uther smiled at the blacksmith. Uther had a gift for surrounding himself with talented men, and the blacksmith was no exception. His skills were legendary, as demonstrated by the fact that each of the kings attending Prince Arthur’s christening had tried unsuccessfully to lure him away from Uther’s service.

      “I need a sword,” Uther said, looking at the weapons lining the far wall of the smithy.”

      The blacksmith frowned. “Have you already damaged the last one I made for you, my Lord?”

      Uther shook his head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with my sword. This is for Prince Arthur.”

      “Ah,” the blacksmith said. “Do you want a short sword from him to have once he’s old enough to hold it?”

      “No, I want you to make the sword he’ll receive when he comes of age.”

      “That’s a long time off, my Lord.”

      Uther nodded. “I know, but I want it ready when he’s old enough, and I want you to make it. There’s no one I trust more to make him a weapon that’ll be beautiful in peace and terrifying in battle.”

      The blacksmith bowed. “It’ll be my honor, my Lord,”

      “Good. Spare no expense. I want this to be the greatest sword you’ve ever made.”

      “I promise that you’ll be pleased, my Lord.”

      Uther left the blacksmith and returned to the great house. He found Ygerna sitting in a chair by the fire in their bedroom. Arthur was in her arms, feeding on her milk.

      Uther crossed the room and kissed Ygerna. “How’s my son today?”

      “Hungry and happy.” Ygerna smiled. “Like his father.”

      Uther grinned. “And how is his mother doing?”

      “Better. Has everyone left?”

      Uther nodded. “I watched them ride down the causeway. I doubt I’ll see them again until Nudd-Lludd’s wife gives birth in a few months, assuming there’s no fighting between now and then.”

      “I hope not,” Ygerna said. “I want you home with me and our son.”

      “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”

      Chapter 2

      The spring thaws came early to Gododdin. The valley around Din Eidyn turned various shades of green as the blanket of snow melted, filling the streams and rivers all around. Even the rocky hills that overlooked the village seemed more beautiful than usual.

      Arthur attended his first Easter mass that spring. He nestled quietly in Ygerna’s arms throughout the entire service, stirring only once when his mother knelt in prayer. This was the first time that the young prince had left the hillfort, and the people of Din Eidyn crowded around Uther and Ygerna after the service to catch a glimpse of their future king.

      A week after Easter, Uther made preparations to leave for Bryneich to be there for the birth of Nudd-Lludd’s firstborn. He checked on his horse in the stables, and as he walked past the smithy, he noticed the blacksmith running after him.

      “My Lord, Uther! I have something to show you!”

      “What is it?” Uther asked.

      The blacksmith smiled. “I’ve finished the sword.”

      Uther followed the blacksmith to the smithy. The blacksmith opened a locked cabinet along the far wall, pulled out an object wrapped in thick cloth, and set the bundle down on the counter. He stepped back after removing the cloth and exposing the sword in its scabbard, waiting to see Uther’s reaction.

      Uther picked up the scabbard and examined the sword’s hilt. Then he drew the sword and examined the blade, testing its balance and heft. After a few minutes, he returned the sword to its scabbard and handed it back to the blacksmith.

      “I named it ‘Caliburn,’ Lord Uther,” the blacksmith said, wrapping the sword back in the cloth.

      “It is your best work.” Uther smiled broadly. “It’s larger than my sword, isn’t it?”

      The blacksmith nodded. “As I started working with the metal, the thought kept coming to me that it should be long enough for mounted fighting, but not so long as to be a backsword. It can be used one-handed or two-handed, depending on the situation.”

      The