The Dragon's Banner Read Free Page A

spittle. When he was done, he quickly balled
up the small rag in his massive fist, but Merlin saw the spray of
crimson splotches on the white linen.
    The counselor’s face softened, and he looked
at his companion with warmth and concern. "Constantine, my old
friend, you needn't hide the truth from me. For I know well your
affliction. A potion of herbs I can make that will ease your pains.
After the counsel I shall depart, for only in the deep woods grow
the vines I need. I fear it shall do nothing more than ease your
discomfort and give you a bit more time, for I have no power to
heal that which afflicts you."
    "Is that your way of telling me I'm dying,
Merlin?" He laughed, which almost sent him into another spasm of
coughing. Catching himself, he continued. "That my sickness is
mortal is well known to me, good friend. I am old, and I have
traveled far and seen many things. I am at peace with my fate, but
I cannot die and leave my kingdom to fall to Vortigern. I will not.
I must conclude these alliances before I breath my last. And your
wisdom is, as always, sound. We must have Gorlois. There is no one
else."
    The treaty with Gorlois must be carefully
drafted." Merlin's expression was stern, thoughtful. "I will do it
if you will permit me. And it should be made as strong as possible,
for though Gorlois knows that Vortigern covets his lands, yet he
still might ally with him if he feels weak or threatened. We must
bind Gorlois firmly to our alliance. Perhaps a marriage."
    "You speak wisdom, Merlin, but I have no
daughter, loath as I would be to consign her to Gorlois'
bedchamber. Nor does Gorlois have a daughter to wed to Uther. Where
shall I find a bride to offer?"
    Long they spoke, about many things - what
barons of Constantine's had suitable daughters, the terms to offer
Gorlois, who should be sent to Cornwall to make the entreaty. When
they were finished, Constantine had one last matter he wished to
discuss. "I want to send an emissary to Rome,” he said, “for I have
not lost hope that the empire may yet return to these shores."
    Merlin looked at him doubtfully. "My friend,
I fear that we can expect neither imperial aid nor the return of
the legions to our shores. Many chances there were in the last
century for a strong and worthy man to invigorate the empire, yet
all these chances went to dust, destroyed by treachery and murder.
Stilicho, Aetius, your father. I knew them all, Constantine, and
all were strong men and capable, yet each fell to an assassin's
blade. The small men, the deceivers, they have won, I fear."
    "Alas, Merlin, you may be right, yet I feel
compelled to try. After Chalons, Aetius swore to me that he would
march to Britannia and reclaim the land for the empire. We were to
leave as soon as he set things to right in Italia. He rode south,
but he never returned. I beseeched him to take the purple, for I
knew Valentinian was unworthy and not to be trusted, and his
mother, that hellspawn Galla Placidia, even less. The army would
have followed him, as would I. But Aetius, for all his petty
scheming, was a loyal general of the empire, and he could not be
persuaded. So it was that he was murdered by a jealous and unworthy
master, and by the hands of Aetius' friends, Valentinian himself
was slain in vengeance."
    Constantine doubled over in another spasm of
coughing, and Merlin leapt up to succor his friend. The coughing,
which had seemed to be a severe attack, ceased when Merlin placed
his hand on Constantine's back, as though the king were somehow
soothed by his companion's touch.
    Constantine grabbed his goblet and took a
drink, clearing his throat forcefully. "Thank you, my friend. I am
fine now. And, as I was saying, I cannot help but hope that another
Aetius has risen in Rome, that the empire may yet be saved and
restored to its glory. If this be just an old man's wistful musing,
I know not, but we have had scant news from Rome since Aetius died,
and none at all in nigh on ten years. It is long past time