Pennants and flags fluttered in the wind; as far as the eye could see, north to south, greens, reds and whites on one side. On the other side, white crosses flew predominantly on a black field; though there were plenty on green fields. Some were bright as the day they were first fitted to the head of a lance or raised upon their pole. Some were dull and torn spattered with blood and mud; evidence of the battles they had been carried into. Soldiers and knights lined the field, brandishing weapons and shields, laying down challenges by charging forward from their lines. Occasionally their challenge was met and the whole field fell silent as young bucks desperate for honours tried to prove themselves in front of wizened veterans. Despite the noise and bravado the tide of battle inevitably inched its way forward in favour of the King of the Britons, Uther Pendragon.

After exile in Brittany, Uther and his older brother, Aurelius, had returned under arms and reclaimed the throne that belonged to their family. To secure the blessing of the gods, Uther had travelled to Ireland with Merlin, the Druid advisor to the king. There, they had gathered men to mine and transport the stones to Amesbury to help with the upkeep of the Druid temple nearby. Aurelius fell ill during this expedition and died while fighting a Saxon army. While the army was defeated, previously loyal dukes and barons started to vie for power without Uther present to claim the throne. Uther landed on Holy Island in Anglesey, North Wales getting the blessing of the Druid fathers before setting out and fighting his way across the lands of dragons and angels.

Battles and advances took place in summer, in spring the fields were being ploughed and sown, in autumn armies disbanded and returned for the harvest, before settling in for the winter. Uther sent his permanent army to help local barons when the armies disbanded, which secured them lodging for the winter and support during the next campaign season. It was now, in the closing days of July, that Uther was finally closing on Tintagel, the Duke of Cornwall’s castle. Gorlois had fought hard but knew that if he could hold out for a couple more weeks then Uther's army would want to return home.

As the two armies teased and cajoled each other, both forces now tired from a hard campaign had lost the enthusiasm to try any spectacular thrusts or cunning tactics. Uther was aware of this and had been pacing through his ranks, getting the feel for his army’s mood. When he returned to the tent he sent a page to summon Merlin.

“Sire,” Merlin announced himself as he entered.

“Merlin! At last! We need to break Gorlois’ line before the harvest.”

“Indeed, Sire.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Merlin! Your title means advisor, so advise your king.”

“Sire, you are the king of men, I am a servant of Danu,” Merlin bowed dramatically to Uther to cut off his protest, before continuing. “She is powerful here on the cliffs overlooking the sea, Mother of water and earth. I will commune with her, on your behalf Sire. When the moon is at its zenith, meet me on Barras Nose. Alone.”

With a flourish, Merlin bowed and backed out of Uther’s tent. When questioned, the guards outside had not seen which way he had gone, in fact, they had not seen him arrive.

OoOoOoO

Night fell and as the moon lit the sky the armies settled down with braziers burning and pickets set. Horses whinnied and brayed as their battle dress was removed and they were fed and watered. Uther approached the headland known as Barras Nose where he ordered his personal guard to remain behind. He dismounted and led his horse to the fire, behind which sat a figure somehow in shadow, despite the flickering orange flame. Uther had given up questioning the mysteries that surrounded Merlin many years before.

“Merlin,” he greeted him.

“Sire,” Merlin replied. He cocked his head as he studied the king for a moment before continuing, “you do know that Merlin is my title, not my name?”

“You do know that Sire is not my name?” The pair started laughing at their private joke. “If you prefer I could call you Emrys.” Uther smiled as Merlin stiffened.

“Cerridwen is not at her zenith yet, share a drink with me Uther.”

He knew better than to press Merlin for details, he would be enlightened in good time. He also knew that one of Merlin’s brews would help fortify him for the events ahead. When their drinks were done, Merlin started to chat in the ancient Celtic language that was now most akin to the Gaelic spoken in Ireland. Uther could understand some from what he had picked up when gathering the stones for Amesbury.

“Anois an t-am, eirigh Uther, eirigh chun do chinniúint a éileamh, eirigh chun an ríchathaoir a dhaingniú do Pendragon.” (Now is the time, arise Uther, arise to claim your destiny, arise to secure the throne for Pendragon.)

Uther got to his feet and stood in front of the still seated Merlin who was now mumbling in an even more ancient tongue. Around him mists were rising from the sea, they surrounded the headland before opening to the south-west and stretching toward Tintagel. Suddenly, Merlin got up waving his staff over his head and pointed along the mist path.

“Ride!” he cried, “Ride for your throne. Do not step from your path, dispatch Gorlois, win the war. Do not step from your path!”

The closing words rang in Uther’s ears as he climbed upon his horse and spurred it forward to the edge of the cliff. Neither Uther nor his horse hesitated and as they rode onto the mist, it solidified underfoot and dissipated once they had passed. Uther did not see, nor feel, but with each stride his body changed, becoming more like his enemy. He didn’t feel, but he knew.

“Open the gates!” he cried as he drew close.

The soldiers on the parapets looked down and saw their duke appear from the mist, he was being pursued over the bridge by a dozen knights brandishing the dragon of Uther. Arrows flew and the portcullis was raised, the pursuers dropped and disappeared into the mist rising around the castle. As the portcullis closed the guards joined all but a few people in that corner of the peninsula and fell asleep.

Somehow Uther knew where the duke’s quarters were and went straight there. As he entered, his eyes befell the most beautiful vision. Standing on the balcony, looking out to sea, her hair was on fire, the flames dancing in the moonlight. Uther’s gaze followed down the wavy red hair taking in the back that narrowed to the waist and widened out to the hip and curved around her bum. All this clothed in a white gown that shifted from translucent to opaque as the summer night’s breeze moved through the folds around her body.

Uther pushed the door closed behind him and the noise drew the attention of the beauty on the balcony.

“My Lord!” she exclaimed, “I was not expecting you yet.”

“Do not step from your path,” whispered in Uther’s ear.

Uther had seen Igraine at some of the talks trying to secure Gorlois’ allegiance. She had classic Celtic looks, fair skin, blue eyes and flame-red hair. Uther found her beauty beyond compare and was almost happy that Gorlois had refused to swear an oath. Then, Uther had thought he would now claim Igraine once the war was won, here she was now, he could claim her before, make her his and make Gorlois the Duke of Cuckolds.

“Do not step from your path, secure the throne for Pendragon,” whispered in Uther’s ear.

The baby crying brought him back, Igraine picked the child up and soothed her.

“Hush, Morganna,” she said, as she walked to a side room.

Igraine had a hushed conversation with the nursemaid before closing the door and turning back to Uther. She smiled seductively as she walked over to him. Uther slipped a finger under each strap of the gown and lifted it off her shoulders and let it slip to the floor. He then embraced her, the cold metal of his chain-mail setting her skin on edge, causing goosebumps to cover her. Igraine shivered in his arms but smiled in the safety she felt when she was wrapped in them.

Their lips touched, tentative at first, just how new lovers might be, not a married couple. Darting, probing feels with tongues, tasting each other, teasing the other’s tongue, running them along their teeth. Igraine broke off and clasped Uther's chain-mail and pulled it over his head, practised from removing Gorlois' after he returned from battle. Next was the hair shirt and then she undid Uther's breeches and let them fall to the floor.

Igraine kissed slowly down Uther’s chest, giggling as she bit his nipples, feeling him jump a little. She enjoyed being able to draw a reaction from her man. She looked up at him and grinned mischievously and then dropped to her knees. As she dragged her fingertips over his hard member, she looked up again.

“It seems battle does my lord good,” she said.

Gripping hard, she continued, “It makes my lord harder than ever,” slowly she slid her hand along his length. “I do believe it even makes my lord taller,” giving a little squeeze before she continued, “and broader.”

Igraine finished by pulling back Uther’s foreskin and kissing the tip of his cock. She let her tongue flick over and around the end before leaning forward and taking as much as she could into her mouth. With a gag and some coughing and spluttering, Igraine pulled back.

“Oh yes,” she giggled, “definitely bigger!”

Igraine reached around and gripped Uther’s buttocks, pulling him to her and she took him into her mouth again. As he touched the back of her throat, she swallowed rapidly to try to avoid gagging again and succeeded. She allowed herself a little smile as she pulled back swirling her tongue around him. Uther pulled her up and lifted her into his arms, giving her a passionate kiss.

Uther did not hesitate, he carried her to the bed and threw her upon it, eliciting an excitable squeal from her. Igraine leant back on her elbows and slowly spread her knees, letting them drop to the side. She studied Uther for a moment and with a flick of her head signalled for him to come to her. He pulled off his boots and stepped out of his breeches and then sauntered over, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Igraine indicated between her legs and it was Uther’s turn to drop to his knees. With a hand on each of her knees, he leant forward.

He kissed first one side and then the other, caressing her skin with his tongue and lips. He was slow and measured even though a voice at the back of his head was urging caution, pushing him to make haste. Soon that voice was joined by another, Igraine, she was urging him to make haste to throw caution to the wind. She grabbed at his hair pulling him forward, trying to pull him to her; but Uther was stronger, he took his time, moving closer and closer. He swapped legs and then back again, teasing and touching, his tongue at times like the mist that had brought him across the bay.

Igraine let out a sigh as Uther finally kissed her just above her clitoris. Even then he continued to tease, pulling her a little open with his thumbs and slowly kissing down either side. Igraine was panting and puffing, she thrust her hips up while pulling on his hair. Uther pulled back and ran a finger over her, starting at the bottom of her mound, slowly over her clitoris, down between her lips to the entrance of her vagina. He twisted his hand and eased the finger into her, causing a gasp. He pulled out and then pushed two inside, curling them up and flicking them along the front wall of her vagina.

The noises filling the room were becoming louder as Uther started to drive Igraine to her orgasm. Her legs opened and wrapped around Uther’s sides, trying to pull him in, but he still resisted, he grinned and kissed her, kissed down her body. Sucking and biting at her breasts, pulling on her nipples and leaving marks around them. He braced himself with his knees against the side of the bed and brought his other hand around, pushing down on her mound with the heel and rolling her clitoris under his thumb. Igraine had sweat running from her as she in turn grabbed at the sheets, then Uther, clawing at his hair and shoulders, pulling on his ears. Until her body tensed, forcing her hips off the bed, pushing Uther's weight up with ease, screaming out her ecstasy as every muscle stiffened and then shook.

Then it was done, Igraine dropped back onto the bed, spent, but Uther was not in a mind to stop. He pulled her to the edge of the bed and rubbed the head of his cock up and down her lips a few times. Then they locked eyes, she gave a little nod and he pushed forward, slowly but without pause. Filling her to where her husband always did, before filling her some more.

“Oh, my Lord, you must go to war more!” she breathed out as Uther reached his depth.

Igraine took a few panting breaths before suddenly pushing away and scrabbling across the bed. As Uther followed she grabbed the side of his head.

“Turn over,” she growled at him.

It was just an instant’s hesitation and then Uther rolled over. Igraine first knelt over his face, then slowly lowered herself until she felt him touch her. Then she pushed down onto his face, inch by inch she slid down over his chin, down his chest, as soon as she could she locked eyes with Uther. The lioness had her prey and was now toying with it before the final kill. Uther could feel how wet she was and was a willing antelope to her. Then her pussy touched his cock, she angled her hips a little and he slipped into her. Igraine paused and licked her lips, before driving down hard onto him.

As she touched down, they both threw their heads back, uttering primal cries. Then Uther gripped her hips and started to drive up into her. Igraine was working as hard, lifting and pushing down. Sweat was running from both of them now. After a few minutes of this, Uther pushed her off.

“Oh,” she moaned, dissapointed.

“Hush!”

He spun her onto her front and lifted her hips; once again he lined up with Igraine and pushing into her. He pushed his hand up her back and onto her head and as he drove into her again, he pushed her head into the mattress. Igraine gripped the sheets and pushed back into him again and again, they were relentless both were tensing, their noises were nothing more than animalistic grunts. Finally, with a roar, Uther came, at the same time, Igraine's pussy clenched around him, her muscles pulsating like it was trying to milk him of every last drop and it did.

They lay catching their breath for a few minutes before Igraine turned to Uther and said, “Thank you, Sire.”

Uther looked at her and started to stutter a response.

She just laughed, “Sire, Excalibur is famous across the land. The sign of the Lady of the Lake on the pommel is unique.”

Then they heard horns sounding and calls to arms.

“Hurry, you must go.”

Uther kissed her and dressed in a hurry. With one last look, he closed the door to the bedroom. Rushing down the stairs to his horse, the men around the castle, thinking he was Gorlois, rushed around preparing for battle and as he left they followed him. What they didn’t notice until too late was the shadow falling away and seeing him transform to Uther. With Excalibur in hand, he struck through the rear of the Cornish ranks and seeing their king in the midst of battle his army rose up and drove forward. By the end of the day, the war had been won, however, a significant number of men, including Gorlois had retreated to Tintagel.

After the battle, Merlin stormed into Uther’s tent and struck the king on the arm with his staff.

“What did I say?” he yelled.

“Do not step from your path,” Uther replied.

Again Merlin struck, “Dispatch Gorlois, I said dispatch Gorlois. If you had done that, Tintagel would now be yours, Igraine would now be yours and the son she carries would be yours. Now you will never see your child and there will be twenty years of pain for Briton.”

Merlin struck Uther once more and turned to leave. He stopped at the entrance, “Remember as you have never remembered before. Only the rightful heir can draw the king's sword from the stone of the Earth. Remember,” and then he was gone. Never to be seen by Uther again.

The ensuing siege carried on until it was time for the harvest. As was tradition, Uther took oaths from all prisoners that were willing, they swore their allegiance to him and were released to return to their fields to do the harvest. Uther disbanded his standing army to help in the area, keeping only a small garrison to guard the bridge to Tintagel.

The following summer Uther sued for Gorlois’ surrender but was instead challenged to single combat. After a brief fight, the war was over and Uther remained king of the Britons. Uther scoffed as he crossed the bridge into Tintagel, thinking of what Merlin had said.

Igraine was waiting for him in the courtyard. They knew they loved each other and she rushed forward as he dismounted and they embraced. Uther did not see the tears running down Igraine’s cheeks.

“Take me to him,” he whispered, “take me to my son.”

“I can’t, I sent him away,” she replied and felt Uther slump a little in her arms.

“I had to, if Gorlois had found him, he would have killed him. I named him in your honour, Arthur.”

“Where did he go?”

“Merlin took him, he said he would put him with a family and watch over him. He’ll bring him back now, won’t he?”

Uther held her tight as he shook his head and she cried some more.

Igraine and Uther married after the harvest that year and lived in peace for five more years, at least what counted as peace in that time. Every year Uther rode off to put down an uprising here or there and returned with more wealth and land for the kingdom. Every year he searched for Arthur and Merlin but never found anything. Then one year after a night in Cair Lundem with allies, Uther was ambushed in a courtyard by five robbers who only identified him as a wealthy man. After years of war, quelling the country, uniting a kingdom, Uther was brought low by a band of common criminals. He dealt fatal wounds to all of them, but that was not enough to save him. At the last, he remembered Merlin's words. He took Excalibur and drove it into a rock in the centre of the yard, pushing up through the lawn.

As he pushed his weight down on Excalibur, he looked up at the stars and with his last breath called out to his one true love safe in their home in Tintagel, the other side of their world. The woman who completed him, who he met too late. Regret filled him as he knew he would have been happy as a pauper if he was with her.

A tear ran down both their cheeks as he said, “I love you Igraine, I’ll wait for you in the Summerland.”

Some notes

The colours, greens, reds and whites, being flown by Uther’s army, along with the dragon, were chosen to represent the Welsh flag. Arthur is often thought to be based on an amalgam of several Welsh kings of the time.

Black field with a white cross – the Cornish flag

Green field with a white cross – the Devonish flag

Amesbury is the town nearest to what is now known as Stonehenge.

Cair Lundum – the name of London as written in some Welsh chronicles of the era. Excalibur is thought to have been plunged into a stone in the grounds of what is now St Paul’s cathedral.

Thank you to the moderators for helping to get these stories published and thank you to everyone that reads this. All comments are welcome and good luck to everyone.