Save Your Son: A Tale of Arthur

By Scoot T. Bowers

Arthur becomes king and faces evil forces that are defeated through his belief in his Saviour. His life is forfeit through Mordred's forgiven treachery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 30, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469755359

Scoot T. Bowers

Scott T. Bowers was born in Pittsburgh, PA but has lived on both coasts and many places in between. His love of Arthur comes from his Welsh heritage and many strange waking dreams. He currently resides in New York where he pretends to enjoy his life as an insurance executive.

Book preview

SHARED DREAMS

The sea pounds the rocks and roars through the inlets. The noise is deafening, but Igraine seeks it. It blocks out the fury of her boredom. Stuck out on this rock that Gorlois calls a kingdom. The great Tintagel, never been taken. No wonder, who wants it? Black as midnight when the rest of the world enjoys sunlight. Well, that would be over soon anyway. Uther was about to break the record. He was coming and he was coming to Tintagel.

Igraine decided to seek the praecipe where she would sit and commune with any kind of nature that decided to speak. That was one good thing about Tintagel. The spirits were numerous. She enjoyed the brusque, cold air that would blow through her clothes, cooling her thighs. There was a cut in the cliff face where she would squeeze in. Protected from the wind, sometimes she would fall asleep. Today was no different. Ten minutes and light snores echo in the rocks.

Voices loud enough to split her skull awake Igraine. The voice hurt but only out of power, not intent. She stared up into blinding light realizing this was a representative of Him.

Hail, most favored, be not afraid. I carry glorious news. You have been chosen to bear the flower of humankind, a great honor. You shall bear a child that will grow to greatness as a man. He will preserve the good qualities of man long enough to produce patterns for others to follow. It will perpetuate civilization.

Was this happening? Igraine had notions of some sort of relationship with spiritual powers before but never to this degree.

Do not question the authority of this proclamation. Voices booming through her brain again. Tonight a man will come to you and lead you to your king. You will accept him as your king and know him as your husband. He is our provider as you are our receptacle. Know that we are the truth and these things will come to pass.

A loud thunderous lightning bolt strikes a cliff-hanging oak tree and Igraine is startled to reality. She realizes that she has been sleeping.

To the North a storm is raging and Uther’s army is trudging through the mud to meet Gorlois, the petty king and barbarian with the nerve to question Uther’s authority. He’ll pay and he’ll pay dearly. Uther, himself, is on horseback and staring blankly into the black night. He is lost in oblivion when his horse stumbles and he is jostled into awareness. He turns in his hartshide tack to check on his men and finds himself alone. He is concerned at this observation because he is not one to stray from the path. The thick fog that was rising from the ground all of the sudden did not ease his concern in the least. A beautiful melodious voice came from the mist, causing Uther to smile, a rare occasion, indeed.

Uther, O high king, we come to you with grand tidings. You are chosen for the strength in your loins, an adulation that should praise you well. You will succeed in your quest against your rival Gorlois and you shall take his wife to Queen. The child that is conceived is ours and she will do with it as she is compelled by spirit. The child will be great although you will not see his greatness. Your time is short as your life has been hard and rest is needed. Hear us and know that we speak true.

The clash of arms brings Uther back and he realizes that he has been asleep.

To the East, in the Celidon Forest, a haggard, rag-wearing old vagrant was stretched out across a worm ridden log, one eye open, one eye closed. Out of nowhere or maybe everywhere he lets out a scream, Not again, I’m old and tired, my hair is below my knees. I have been at rest too long. Why don’t you choose another, I have been chosen enough.

Merlin, you are our greatest and times are harsh. It will take a true and powerful druid to guide the new one to glory. He is going to be human and therefore, your guidance is required. You will return to us in the usual manner.

Merlin was conversing with an old gnarled oak tree when espied upon by the owl. Oh yes, another Viviane, that should put me to rest for a long time.

CONCEPTION

Limbs were strewn everywhere. Barbarian war is an ugly sight. Axes and pikes leave gruesome reminders of excruciating pain and slow death. Gorlois was on the pile. He fell off his horse and was trampled when about fifty of his own men rode over him trying to surrender. A fitting death for a rebel. Uther was unharmed in the melee. It couldn’t be called a war, it was that quick. That concerned Uther, it was too easy, like the outcome was already determined. It ran too close with his dream and he didn’t appreciate the foreboding of a short life. What? Was he supposed to supply this woman with his manhood, never to see the fruit of his endeavors. Had he not always fought for the good of his people. Didn’t that deserve some respect? Ah, he knew he’d get nowhere thinking this way. Just live and do what makes him happy, if that’s the way they want to play.

The arguing and threatening of men’s voices was the next thing on Uther’s mind. He went out of his tent to find his men pushing an old man around, yanking on his knee-length hair. The old man looked up at Uther and immediately removed two men from the discussion by eliminating their noses from their faces. This, obviously, caused them to think of whom they might be pushing around.

Merlin, addressing Uther, asked, Did you dream last night? Do you wish to meet the girl?

I dreamt last night but not of you. Why do you trouble me? was Uther’s reply.

Do you wish to meet the girl or not? Merlin responded in a voice that rules kings.

Uther, ill at ease allowing someone to address him in such a tone stated matter-of-factly, The girl is mine. I shall meet her and take her.

Sloshing along through the mud (it seems as though it always rains), Uther, Merlin and the army made their way to Tintagel. Gorlois had met Uther’s army well into Uther’s land, therefore, it was a long journey to Tintagel. The way was dark and treacherous. A small army could hide in any number of forested areas along the way. The forest was impregnated with trees that were black as the night. Noises screamed in bloody murder deep inside. Gorlois’ remaining men stayed still, hell bent on revenge. They hated Uther and were part of the dream.

Merlin, Uther screamed as the first wave of men hit his flank, where are you, you bastard.

My part is done in this, was Merlin’s reply to the recesses of Uther’s brain. You will meet her and you will take her, but then your time is done. Your contribution has been made. Be at peace. Merlin was nowhere to be found. Uther could not seek him further as he had to deal with the axe imbedded in his chest.

Back at Tintagel, Igraine was climbing from her spot among the cliffs when she met an old man at the top. She laughed, recognizing him from her dream.

You are quick to your purpose. I am merely just awake, Igraine said somewhat embarrassed by her smile.

Merlin, taken aback at her beauty, replied, Your king awaits you now. He lies upon the north road, wounded to the death. He longs your touch so that he may find his final salvation. A long pause ensued while Merlin obtained further instruction from his vast store of unused (and sometimes unwanted) knowledge. We shall seek your king together and we will see him NOW.

Igraine’s next sight was that of an army encampment. There were several tents and campfires spread out throughout the area. Wounded men were everywhere, screaming and moaning in their pain. She noticed a large tent with a white banner flying over it with a red dragon. Uther was there. She could feel his ragged breathing and was drawn to him.

I am your queen, she stated.

Uther raised his head with much effort, If I am your king, a short reign is yours.

With that, Igraine went to him and removed the blood-encrusted leather armor from his chest. It was strange that all she could think of was how handsome and at peace he looked. She had seen him only once and he appeared haggard and sick to death at the time. A skin of water was nearby and she cleansed his wound and washed his body with it. Then she removed her garments and accepted his manhood which was strong as if driven by light powers. Uther died in her arms.

Merlin, as if attracted to the scene by Uther’s death, returned Igraine to Tintagel. Her part in all of this had just begun.

STAR SHOWER

The news of Gorlois’ death preceded Igraine’s return to Tintagel. She was greeted by the news and felt true remorse. Gorlois had fathered her children and they were attractive, intelligent women. Morgause and Morgan would make their mark someday. She knew that. Gorlois begat good offspring. Could Uther’s child be better?

The rich and powerful were running around bemoaning the death, when actually thinking of how to seize power as there was no male heir. Igraine