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father in counsel with Merlin, but he had fought this battle before
and lost. He walked past the heavy oak door, which he knew would be
bolted shut from the other side and, with a heavy sigh, he wandered
down the path back toward the town. The miller's daughter would
help him pass the time.

    Behind that heavy oaken door, the king of
Powys was deep in conference with his friend and most trusted
advisor. At a great wooden table they sat, on which a spread of
meats and other foods had been set on great silver platters. It was
a kingly feast, but neither had eaten a bite.
    "If this is true, Merlin, then we must move
at once, for it may already be too late." King Constantine was an
old man, his wrinkled and careworn face framed by thick lengths of
steel-gray hair. Late in life did he marry, and fifty summers he
had already seen when Uther was born. His own father, the emperor,
he did not remember at all, for the great man had been slain in
Gaul when Constantine the Younger was but a year of age.
    The other man in the room was old too, though
it seemed that all men saw Merlin differently. White as snow was
his hair, some said, while others claimed it was iron gray mixed
with black. Some saw a man stooped with age who walked with a
stick; others a strong and active one who carried his staff like a
weapon and could ride or march all day. Perhaps those who knew him
best saw him truest, for in Constantine's watery eyes, Merlin
appeared ageless, somehow both old and young, and certainly neither
weak nor infirm.
    "It is true, Constantine, for with my own
eyes I have seen it. When first this word came to me, I resolved to
travel north and see the state of affairs for myself. Vortigern has
indeed returned from exile, and he has not only forged an alliance
with the Saxons; he is near to reaching agreement with the Picts.
Indeed, as we sit here he may already have done so. The Picts are
to have the north, the Saxons the east, and Vortigern the west and
south."
    Constantine thought silently, for Merlin had
always been right, and held the counselor’s words beyond doubt.
Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke clearly. "It is none too
soon that we have called this council, and I pray we are able to
reach agreement. For if we do not stand together, I fear we shall
not stand at all. Indeed, even if all six kings here assembled join
us, we may yet lack the strength to triumph. We must look for other
allies."
    As Constantine finished speaking, he was
taken by a fit of deep, dry coughs. Merlin rose and filled the
king's goblet from a golden flagon that had been set on the table.
Constantine nodded his thanks and took a shallow drink, clearing
his throat so he could again speak.
    Before Constantine could continue, Merlin
did, his voice brittle, as if he were speaking of something
unpleasant. "There is but one potential ally with the strength to
matter in this contest, and he is well known to both of us."
    "Gorlois," Constantine responded, his face
contorted as if he had tasted something bitter. "He is not my
friend, Merlin, nor am I his. We have fought each other many times,
as you well know."
    "Needs may sometimes make friends from foes,
for the lands of Gorlois also would fall under Vortigern also
should he conquer all. He is no fool, Gorlois, nor will he relish
the thought of bending his knee to Vortigern. He will listen to an
entreaty, I believe. And though he is a vulgar man, and I like him
no more than you do, to my knowledge he keeps his oaths."
    Constantine leaned back in his great oaken
chair, eyes shut as he considered the situation. Ponder as he
might, he could not think of an alternative. Finally, eyes still
closed, he spoke softly. "I will dispatch ambassadors to his court
at once." He paused for a moment. "I will send rich gifts also, for
Gorlois is a vain fool, and such shall appease his pride."
    Again, Constantine was taken by a fit of
coughing, though it was worse this time, and he pulled a cloth from
the table to catch the