UFP

The three of them had been talking nonchalantly about inconsequential things for a while now, waiting for Arthur to deem them far enough away to avoid be overheard by anyone. They were still within sight of the wall with the dark forest silently standing on their right and no one in sight. Arthur dismounted cuing Cador and Guinevere to do the same. They let their horses graze while they talked.
“Do you want to talk about the priest and that scene now?” asked Cador with a barely disguised grin on his face.
Arthur laughed. One of the things he liked about his foster son was how directly he faced problems. He was not one for letting the taboo subjects remain unspoken and neither was Arthur. “Yes, I do,” he said smilingly. “I suppose you’ve figured out that you’ve warranted more than a warning this time and I hope your rebellion has reached a satisfactory point before I shut you down.”
“If you want to just give me a warning again,” suggested Cador, “I’m sure that I can guarantee an end to it.”
“Oh, and why is that?”
“Well, I think I’ve pushed Paulus as far as I can without tossing him directly over the edge. I’ve antagonized him enough now. What do you say? Just this one last time?” Cador was throwing this argument in on the off chance that it might work out, but he did not really believe it would. He looked over at his mother and winked impishly.
“I’m afraid not, Cador,” sighed Arthur. “There is more to it than just keeping you from teasing Paulus. Right now it seems as though the only man in Luguvallium who can ignore me is you and that cannot be allowed to continue.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed complacently. “I suppose the punishment has to be somewhat public as well as inconvenient for me. What did you have in mind?”
Guinevere, who had not really intended to interfere with the negotiations between father and son, exclaimed disbelievingly, “You’re not even going to argue?” This was not like him at all.
“Of course not!” he said placidly. “Who am I to argue with the king, let alone my father. I knew that eventually my fun with the priest would have its consequences. But it was fun anyway. Did you see how he was jumping?” Cador laughed gleefully.
Arthur struggled to keep his own mirth under control. “I appreciate the understanding and ease with which you are accepting this,” he said. “You will stand out the night watch on the wall for a fortnight, starting tonight. I’ll make sure the captain of the guard is aware of it.”
“Very well, Arthur. I shall abide by your judgment.” He cast an eye at the sun, which was starting its decline.
“I also expect you to lay off Father Paulus,” added Arthur firmly. “I don’t want him coming to the house to complain about you again.”
“What? He is so very eloquent when he whines about me. Why would you want to miss that?” Arthur just gave him a warning look, prompting more laughter. “Alright, alright. I’ve finished with him anyway. If you will excuse me, I have to return my horse to its rightful owner.”
Guinevere walked with him to retrieve his grazing mount. “What do you have up your sleeve?” she asked knowingly.
“Now, why would you say that?”
“I know you better than that. Now, tell me what it is.”
“You’ll just have to wait and find out like everyone else, Mother,” he said, giving her a hug. “I can’t be seen to play favorites. Besides, you would tell someone and spoil the surprise.”
“I’ll have it out of you eventually,” she threatened as he mounted up.
“You can try,” he taunted, spurring his horse to a trot. He waved at them as he rode back to Luguvallium.
“He took that well,” commented Arthur.
“Too well. When was the last time you knew Cador to take any adverse incident so well? You can’t. Its Cador.”
“He was in the wrong and he knew it. He did try to argue a little bit.”
“Not enough. When he was younger, the more he argued, the more you knew you were right to punish him. That hasn’t changed recently.”
“Do you think we’re missing something?” asked Arthur, uncertainly. “It was pretty plain before that he was gambling.”
“You should know by now that with him things are never quite what they seem,” she said, alluding to his first meeting with Cador. “I’ll try and find out what’s going on with him.”
“That’s your prerogative as his mother,” he said, gathering up the reins to his bay. “I’m just glad we diverted a potential problem and that he handled it so well. I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Something to be thankful for, I suppose.” She grabbed him impetuously by the arm and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Now, I have my own devious plans. I will have to leave you at the gate, I’m afraid, but I’ll see you tonight.”
“You had better,” he said with a grin, “or I will be forced to greet Madoc myself and that would be a tragedy.”
“It would, wouldn’t it? I think he might turn around immediately and go home.”
“Of course he would. I’m convinced you’re his favorite. I’m merely his nephew, you know.”
“And a right terrible nephew at that,” she said mischievously, “or so I hear. I do believe that Madoc’s wife still retains a fear of birds to this day because of you.”
“That was an entirely isolated incident and I would suggest you not listen to any of Luned’s tales. She can hold a grudge, that one.”
“I would, too, if you let a hawk loose on my head.” Guinevere laughed gaily at the look she received from her husband. She kissed him lightly on the cheek in a conciliatory way. “I’m only having a bit of fun at your expense, my love. I shall certainly be there when Madoc arrives. Now, come on. There is only so much light in a day. Let’s not waste any. Race you to the Wall!” she cried, spurring her horse onward, leading Arthur on a merry chase all the way back to Hadrian’s Wall.


I am quickly making up for my lack of posts last week. Enjoy and don't be afraid to leave feedback!

6/16/09
Revised with the new ending that occurred, unfortunately, after it had been posted. Its a risk you run, but probably worth it somehow.

UFP

The geography of Britain north of Hadrian’s Wall could not have been more suited to being the womb of rebellion. It was a wild place covered by dense forests, unfeeling rocks and covered in that inescapable fog which made it seem so unnatural. There was no other place on earth that lent itself so well to the idea that it was infused with magic. Nor had anyone tried harder to debunk that idea than Roman generals and their army of engineers. Every undertaking, building project and fifty mile forced march was aimed at taking the mystique out of their conquered land and for centuries they had been unable to do so. No instance was more piquant than that of the Antonine Wall which lay one hundred turbid miles north of that grand construction that bore emperor Hadrian’s name.
As the Roman legions began to beat back the Briton rebels who had taken refuge in the still free north, they began to believe that their primacy was more secure than it really was. In the name of Antoninus Pius, then the emperor of the Roman Empire, they began to construct a new wall in the area of the Damnonii, one of the many free tribes of Britain. It was to be as impressive of Roman power as the old wall and was built accordingly - thirty-nine miles across the land from the west coast to the east, thirteen feet high all of turf on stone, with forts every two miles along its massive line. Typically, it was a high, steep bank designed to force the enemy to traverse a large ditch and then scale the wall at a sheer angle which made it easier for the defenders to kill their attackers. It was indeed a tribute to the ingenuity of an Empire.
Yet the Antonine Wall was more a tribute to the unquenchable furiousness with which the Britons attacked their enemy. The Damnonii, the Votadini, the Novante, the Selgovae all went down against the tramping squares of legionaries. These fierce tribes of free men found that force nigh unstoppable, if not unbeatable, and they left their impression. But when it came to the Caledonii, there was an end to that unbearable sound of foot soldiers marching. They Caledonian people fought back so hard that they drove the legions back behind Hadrian’s Wall after a mere twenty years of occupation. That was certainly the shortest time any legion had spent in a new territory and it was a great victory for the Britons. The already conquered tribes could not shrug off their neighbors easily, so they became a marginally governed buffer between Roman Britain and the land that came to be called Caledonia after those fierce warriors who had accomplished the unthinkable.
That same “buffer,” however, became a breeding ground for unsatisfied Britons who soon became freedom fighters under a new leader: the enigmatic Merlyn. The truth of Merlyn’s origins were unknown, though legend had enough to say about it. One such said that he had been a powerful bard to a king of the Carvetii. After a battle, Merlyn went mad and fled to the forests in the north, the forests of Caledonia. More mystic legends claimed that he was the son of a king’s daughter who had been taken by a demon. He had been endowed with the gifts of prophecy by his father and he practiced dark magic in the forests. He was immortal and treacherous. The truth of even the most likely of these stories was questionable and as far as anyone knew, Merlyn himself did not speak of his history or parentage. He had come to the Britons at a time when they most needed a strong leader, that was enough for most. As for the Romans, they called him Merlinus Caledonensis, Merlin of the Caledonians, and they feared him with good reason.
Along with Merlyn, one of Caledonia’s native children was Guinevere herself. She was a daughter of a Votadini nobleman who lived very much as a Roman citizen would do. The Votadini, whose name meant “fort dwellers,” were a rich people with many resources of precious metals so prized by the Romans. Subsequently, there was a lot of trade between them and the Wall, which led to an ever increasing amount of Romanization of their lives. Guinevere, whose patriotism was fueled by the stories she heard about rebels such as Merlyn, had long since grown dissatisfied with her life as a quasi-Roman citizen. In her fourteenth year, construction began on a Roman fort where she lived with her father providing much of the needed gold to build it. Unable to bear it any longer, she left with a group of angry Briton countrymen and went to find Merlyn in the forests of Caledonia.
It was not long after she became part of Merlyn’s company that Guinevere became Cador’s mother. A woman stumbled into their camp one night and demanded to see Merlyn. This was not an uncommon occurrence in itself; many people wanted to see him for reasons of their own and most were denied for reasons Merlyn kept to himself. But this woman was not quite like those others. She bore the marks of having traveled far on foot with her tiny child in her arms. She shivered with an intense fever, her skin paler than the mist itself. Merlyn was informed of this unusual visitor and saw her straight away, speaking to her alone in a secluded area. The woman handed her child over to him and died only a few hours later. Of all the women who were loyal to the free Britain Merlyn promised, Guinevere could never understand why he chose her to be the infant’s foster mother. Thinking back on it in the present time, she seemed much to young and unwise to have been given such a large responsibility. Yet, somehow and not without a little help, she and the child had managed rather well, both growing to be the full flower of the free Briton peoples.
This story accounted for the lack of resemblance between mother and son. She considered it now as they rode together with Arthur on subtle paths through the beauty of the forest. She was tall and lithe, like a runner, with brown hair that looked red in the sun. Her skin was tanned brown from many days in the sun and her eyes were a bright shade of green. Many who had seen her described her as the daughter of Gobannos, one of the ancient gods who was reported to have had the most beautiful children of all. However, this was said more often than not in order to ignore her unfortunate relationship with her real father, who was viewed by everyone as a traitor to his people.
Cador was tall like the majority of his people and he bore the distinctively well muscled frame of a man whose main occupation was that of the warrior. His proportions were long and elegant, which balanced out the otherwise burly impression his broad chest and shoulders gave. His eyes and hair were black, or nearly so, which was uncommon so far north. It served as a reminder that he was not from there nor even the son of the woman he called his mother, but one of the Dumnonii from the south, one of the largest tribes in Britain. The Dumnonii were famed for being the tribe of many great heroes and leaders and when the Romans first came over from Gaul, they were looked to as the leaders of the war. Instead, they submitted without too much fighting, thus ending such hopes of leadership. Cador was one of the last members of the royal house of Rhiwallon, the king who had been reigning at the time of the invasion by Rome. When he was a child, this pedigree had led many, Merlyn and Guinevere included, to regard him as the future king of Britain who would eventually unite all under one banner and drive the Romans out at the point of his sword.
Obviously, Guinevere thought to herself, things had not happened quite like they imagined. Now she looked at her husband, Arthur, King of the Britons, and no man could have looked as though he deserved that title less. He was stocky, with the olive complexion of a Roman born. He did not have the long lines of a Briton, instead favoring the very compact frame of a man with a large amount of muscle. Still, he was not entirely Roman. His long flowing hair was the color of flax and very soft to the touch, just as his mother‘s had been. She had been a Briton herself and, luckily, left her son the legacy of her best feature. His face was clean shaven and open with a ready smile and brown eyes that bore the truth in their very pupils. She knew from experience that he was a terrible liar. More than that, however, his eyes looked as though they could see through anyone. Arthur’s powers of observation were considerable, making him an excellent judge of character, a talent which had served him well over the years. He made the most striking contrast next to Cador.

Well, if this feels like a lot to chew through, it is. I have my sources for most of the actual information given here strewn about me like the dying leaves of some researcher's tree. I could probably write a research paper on this subject by now. Whew! By the way, if any of the stuff in this post or any other of the UFP (Ubiquitous Fiction Piece) posts is unknown, foreign, or just plain weird, I encourage you to GOOGLE IT! I am using it to further my own fictitious ends, so don't take my word for a lot of it.
Oh, and sorry about the meltdown over the weekend. Thanks to my friend who saved my ass. She prefers to remain Anonymous.