ULFIUS

"First there was Uther, then there was Arthur - and beside them both was Ulfius"

(Original painting by Mia Pelletier, used with permission)

Ulfius is the eponymous protagonist of my first novel (yet to be published). Ulfius was friend and adviser in matters warlike to three kings: Aurelius, Uther and Arthur. He is a warrior and a general, a man of passion, especially with his wife, Ioena.

This is a retelling of part of the Arthurian legends. He was present at Arthur's birth and charged by the druid Myrddin to take the child to safety. But they fall out as Ulfius believes Myrddin could have saved Igraine.

Respected by most of those he comes in contact with, Ulfius is chosen to facilitate the procedure that will select Uther's successor.

Here is the prologue:

In his dreams, the boy Ulfius saw the death of his father.

Defeated and wounded, yet not broken, Uwailf knelt before the tyrant Vortigern. He knelt not from choice but because he had been thrown down before the High King.

Uwailf did not plead for his life, nor did offer his sword as had been demanded of him. He knew he was about to die. Even if Vortigern were to spare his life, the wounds would probably kill him. His leg was broken, that he knew, and his left hand was missing. His head did not seem to be his own, his vision was blurred and it was as if another Uwailf knelt beside him.

“You will not yield,” Vortigern stated, his voice bouncing inside Uwailf's head as if the man were shouting at him from a distance, his words sometimes lost in the wind. He was aware of Vortigern drawing in a huge breath, letting out a disappointed sigh, but Uwailf never heard, nor saw, nor even felt the keen edge of the sword as it sliced through his neck. The head rolled, the torso flopped and sprawled untidily on the blood soaked ground.

An eye witness broke the news to Ulfius two days after the event. The boy wept for his father, but there was no time for mourning. Vortigern is coming! was the cry, and chaos took over the peace of the villa where he lived. The servants dressed him and thrust him into a cart with the other boys. In the panic, even the bullies who blighted his young life were silent.

They travelled for what seemed days. When the motion of the cart rocked him to sleep, he dreamed that same dream. When he awoke, he was distant and spoke to no one. The world had become a blur to him. He was aware of conversation around him, but took little in.

The Narrow Sea. He heard the words spoken and suddenly there was explanation to the pitching and rolling of this strange vessel, the unfamiliar smells, the cries of seagulls. In fascination he watched as wind filled the sails and the craft responded. Other times there was no wind at all and progress was slow. He saw other boys leaning over the sides, vomiting as the boat climbed and dipped the waves, but it affected him not. Even seeing his rivals in such a poor plight did not amuse him.

On another day, the boat glided into a port and docked. He knew not where he was, but he heard a voice declare: “Brittany!” and another pointed and cried, “The Duke! The Duke has come to greet us!”

With the other boys he was herded across a flat piece of timber and he felt the stillness of land beneath his feet. They were lined up and inspected by a tall, pleasant looking man who constantly stroked his beard as he exchanged a few words with each of them. When it came to his turn, Ulfius looked up into the man's face and felt no fear.

“And what is your name?” The Duke squatted on his haunches.

“Ulfius” the boy replied strongly. “I am called Ulfius.”

“You are troubled, lad. I see it in your eyes.”