Arthur, King. William Speir

      The blacksmith accepted the praise with a bow to his king.

      Uther left the smithy and crossed the grounds to the great house. Caliburn. A strong name for an exceptional weapon. I look forward to presenting it to Arthur when he turns sixteen.

      Ambrosius Aurelianus, Overlord of the Roman Kingdoms of Lundun, Glouvia, and Atrebatia in south central Britain, sat on his horse as the sun sank in the west. He looked out over the plains that stretched north from Lapis Tituli; bodies littered the ground as far as the eyes could see, and blood had stained the green grasses a reddish-brown. Search parties moved across the field of battle, looking for survivors who could be saved and identifying the dead and dying. They also had orders to kill any Saxons who were still alive. The carrion birds, who were attracted to battles like moths to an open flame, were already feeding on the bodies farthest from the search parties.

      Ambrosius’ standard unfurled in the wind. The gold dragon on a field of red rippled and snapped as the wind gusted in the evening light. His standard bearer had to shift his stance to keep the flagpole from being torn from his grip.

      Such a terrible loss of life. We won the day, but the cost was too high. I must build more forts along the Saxon frontier to watch what Hengist and Horsa are up to. We barely had any warning that they were moving northwest.

      The sound of horses brought Ambrosius back to the present. He turned and saw his allies approaching. King Gerren Llyngesoc of Dumnonia in the southwest corner of Britain, King Triffyn Farfog of Dyfed in southwestern Wales, King Cynyr Ceinfarfog of Gwent in southeastern Wales, and King Ogrfan Gawr of Ergyng in southeastern Wales soon joined him on the ridge that overlooked the battlefield.

      “The Saxons have retreated back behind their borders, Lord Ambrosius,” Ogrfan said. “They’re leaving their dead and wounded behind for us to deal with.”

      “Kill their wounded, and burn the bodies of all of the Saxons,” Ambrosius ordered.

      “What about their weapons and equipment?” Triffyn asked.

      “Burn everything Saxon. They’re a pestilence on Britain, and I don’t want anything of theirs to remain.”

      “Where was King Vortigern today?” Cynyr asked. “I never once saw the red dragon on a field of green. We sent messengers, but he and his army never came.”

      “You can’t expect him to take up arms against his father-in-law, can you?” Ogrfan asked. “When he took Rowenna into his bed, he turned his back on the Council of Kings. You’ll never see Vortigern’s standard in battle again unless he’s fighting us.”

      “We must call for a Council of Kings and elect a new High King, Lord Ambrosius,” Gerren stated. “Vortigern has betrayed us. His Saxon allies are growing too numerous for us to defend against. If we don’t raise up someone who will drive the Saxons from our shores, we’ll find ourselves being ruled by Hengist and his sons before long.”

      The other kings agreed.

      Ambrosius stared at the field below him, deep in thought. After several minutes, he said, “We created the position of High King to lead our armies in battle and to prevent us from fighting among ourselves. If we remove Vortigern as High King and elect someone to replace him, we risk civil war, which will only benefit Hengist and his allies. But we can’t continue having a High King who refuses to fight the Saxons because he’s married to one. Vortigern must go, but we can’t risk handing Britain to Hengist because we’re too busy fighting each other.”

      “Vortigern will be handing Britain to Hengist if we don’t risk it,” Gerren said.

      Ambrosius nodded as he watched the search parties.

      Uther arrived at Nudd-Lludd’s fortress in Bryneich two weeks after Easter. King Ceretic of Strathclyde, King Mor of Ebrauc, and King Gwrast of Rheged arrived on the same day. Merlin didn’t accompany Uther on this journey. He remained behind at Din Eidyn in his role as Regent while Uther was away.

      Uther had just settled in and was about to search for the others when a servant ran up to him. “My Lord, Uther. King Nudd-Lludd requests that you join him in the great hall.”

      Uther followed the servant. He arrived in the great hall and found the other kings waiting for him. Nudd-Lludd could barely hide the smile on his face.

      “I have a son!” Nudd-Lludd blurted out when he saw Uther.

      Uther and the other kings congratulated their host. A servant brought Uther a tankard of ale, and Uther toasted his friend.

      “What did you name him?” Mor asked.

      “Well, I wanted to name him Bedivere, but like Ygerna, my wife prefers Welsh names. We named him Bedwyr.”

      Uther and the other kings laughed. They knew that the queens of the northern kingdoms were headstrong and often got their way.

      As servants brought in food, and the kings filled their plates, Nudd-Lludd pulled Uther aside. “I must speak with you privately, Uther.”

      Uther nodded. “Are your wife and son all right?”

      “Oh, they’re doing fine,” Nudd-Lludd assured him. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

      Nudd-Lludd led Uther into a chamber just off the great hall so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Have you heard what happened at Lapis Tituli?”

      Uther shook his head. “Where’s that?”

      “On the southeastern coast near the Saxon frontier. A messenger arrived today with the news. Hengist crossed his borders with his army and tried to move west and north into Lunden and Atrebatia.”

      “Ambrosius’ lands.”

      Nudd-Lludd nodded. “Ambrosius raised his army, along with the armies of Dumnonia, Dyfed, Gwent, and Ergyng. He chased the Saxons back, and the two forces met at Lapis Tituli. By the end of the day, the Saxons had retreated behind their borders, but the losses on both sides were terrible.”

      “Gwent? Isn’t King Cynyr married to Vortigern’s daughter?”

      Nudd-Lludd nodded. “When Vortimer deposed his father, Cynyr joined him in his fight with Hengist and Horsa. But he didn’t fight with Vortimer against Ambrosius. He’s been allied with Ambrosius for years.”

      “And where was Vortigern during the battle?” Uther asked.

      “No one knows,” Nudd-Lludd replied softly. “He refused to answer Ambrosius’ calls for help.”

      Uther was shocked. “Hengist launches an invasion, and the High King is nowhere to be found? Has his marriage to Rowenna corrupted him that much?”

      Nudd-Lludd shook his head. “I don’t know. But the messenger also said that the southern kings are calling for a Council of Kings to address Vortigern’s apparent treachery against Britain.”

      “When?”

      “The first of May,” Nudd-Lludd replied. “King Ogrfan of Ergyng has offered to host the Council.”

      “I can’t believe that it has finally come to this,” Uther said. “Do the others know?”

      “No,” Nudd-Lludd replied. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell them or not.”

      “You have to tell them,” Uther said firmly. “The meeting’s just over a month away. They need time to prepare for the journey.”

      Nudd-Lludd nodded glumly. Uther knew that the discussion arising from the announcement would put a damper on the celebration of Bedwyr’s birth. Uther put his hand on Nudd-Lludd’s arm.

      “You don’t have to tell them now, of course. It can wait until they’ve eaten and drunk their fill.”

      Nudd-Lludd’s face brightened. “You make an excellent point, Lord Uther.”

      Uther smiled. “Then why don’t we join