Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 10

Merlin was not the only one to punish temptation. Priests prowled the streets, calling out to the masses, threatening them with eternal damnation and warning of the coming of Christ at the approaching half millennia.

I did not know where we were going, though the safe bet seemed to be towards the higher ground where a series of villas had been put together to make what I presumed was the palace, though I had no idea why we two mere boys were being brought to the palace.

It was indeed the palace we were being brought to and upon on our arrival Owain and I were both forced to surrender our weapons. Merlin was, as always, armed with nothing but his razor sharp wit, something no one could take from him and, so disarmed, we went forwards to meet the saviour of Britain.

Ambrosius.

He was like everything I imagined him to be and nothing at all.

We had entered the palace using Enniaun's name. It was a big room, with many benches for petitioners to call upon the High King and his council. Soldiers lined the room, and many crowded the benches, some waiting to petition, others just using the trials as entertainment.

At that time a petition was ongoing. I forget what it was about, for I was paying no attention to what it was, instead my attention was fixed upon the men being petitioned.

There were a handful of smaller chairs in a line where different councillors, but in the middle was the throne, a chair no different than those of the councillor's though set atop sets so higher than the others with a commanding position across the room.

Sitting on it was the High King Ambrosius, and my first impression of the High King of the British was that he looked bored.

He sat back in his throne, slouched with his right elbow on the armrest, and his face resting on the palm of his hand as he listened.

He was a very slim man, dressed in a white toga. Beneath it you could see underneath it that despite his advancing age his body was still strong and firm, with white tufts of hair on his chest.

He was a handsome man, with high cheekbones, his hair more white than black, but combed back behind his ears and his white beard was neatly trimmed. His eyes were a soft brown, but there was a hard set to his brows, and as he straightened to give his verdict on those petitioning him I saw his jaw was square and strong.

He stood to give his verdict, dismissed the two petitioners, and then he spied Merlin.

'Merlin.' He called out, and his voice was deep and strong. 'You will sing for us?'

Merlin, never needing much invitation to sing to the best of times, did indeed launch into song. His voice was loud and clear and true, seeming to ring out to every part of the chambers. Merlin sang of Ambrosius, of his heroism, and I recognised the tune that he had been humming over our journey to the capital, and realised that he had composed this song just for this occasion.

Ambrosius loved it. He was a great man, perhaps the greatest I have ever known after Owain himself, but he was Roman at heart, and he had that Roman vanity that loved hearing his name immortalised in song. Though perhaps that is simply a human vanity.

As Merlin's famous voice rang its last hauntingly beautiful note, the remainder of the room stood to applaud him and Ambrosius led that applause. 'Ask anything of me.' Ambrosius instructed him warmly.

'I ask to introduce my companions.' Merlin's voice rang out, rich and clear. 'Culhwch: son of Gerient.' I was pushed forwards awkwardly. "And Owain: son of Uther Pendragon."

Silence.

Everyone knew of Enniaun Girt, the Terrible Head Dragon, Uther Pendragon, in his terrifying ferocity. Chief of the Votadini migrants, steward of Gwynedd and scourge of the Saxons. He, like Ambrosius, was one of the heroes of Britain. Ambrosius though, unlike most of the court, knew how Enniaun had no love for his youngest son, and for him to be at court meant something important.

He nodded at his herald, who called out that there would be no more petitions tonight. Grumbling erupted but much of it was half hearted, for although the common folk who had come today would now have to try and return, they had heard the vaulted Merlin Myriddian sing.

Soon enough, the room was all but empty, for Ambrosius had dismissed his councillors as well, and soon there was no one but the guards and Ambrosius himself waiting upon Merlin, Owain and myself, except that Merlin had moved over to Owain and was talking to him quietly so that neither Owain nor I could hear what was being said.

Eventually, Ambrosius walked over to us. We solemnly went down on one knee before the high king but Ambrosius, smiling with amusement, lifted us up. 'I know pretences must be kept when others are around.' He told us. 'When it is simply us, please use my name.' He looked across at me. 'I knew your father, though not as well as I would have liked.' He said to me. 'I am honoured to meet his son.' I beamed.

He turned to Owain. 'Of course I know your father, and I know for you it has been difficult, but I am honoured to meet you too.' It was an extraordinary thing to say, and I was shocked for the High King of Britain might have simply said to Owain that he knew his father hated him, but when Ambrosius told you he was honoured to meet you, you believed it, and Owain looked pleased.

'I understand you are both to join my household.' He said. That was news to us. Owain and I exchanged glances, and I felt a grin starting to spread across my face.

But it was true, Ambrosius, High King of all the kingdoms of Britain, took us into his household, and our lives were changed forever.