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Born of the chaos of the Dark Ages, the Dream of Eagles produced a king, a country and an everlasting legend-Camelot
Merlyn Britannicus, Commander of Camulod, must educate his young charge, Arthur Pendragon, future King of Britain.
Threats against young Arthur's life have forced Merlyn and the boy to leave Camulod, settling in an abandoned Roman fort, where they are safe from political intrigue. Enlisting help from a close-knit group of friends, Merlyn teaches the young King about warfare, justice, honour and the responsibilities of leadership in preparation to wield the sword Excalibur.
When the tenuous peace of Camulod is threatened by unrest in neighbouring regions, Merlyn faces a dilemma. How can he prepare the young Arthur to be a ruler of men when he continues to train him in isolation? Merlyn knows that he must risk the dream of his grandfather Caius Britannicus if he is ever to fulfill it. JACK WHYTE was born and raised in Scotland and immigrated to Canada in 1967. He is an actor, orator, singer, and poet, and was awarded an honorary doctor of letters for his contribution to Canadian popular fiction. He is the author of the Dream of Eagles series (eight Arthurian novels set in Roman Britain) and the Templar Trilogy (featuring the legendary Knights Templar). Whyte's novels are also published in the United States, the U.K., Australia, New Zealand, Germany, France, the Netherlands, Portugal, Spain, Italy, Brazil, and Russia. He lives in Kelowna, British Columbia.
ONE
We stood together on the forward deck of a galley that moved slowly forward through a bright, still September morning, mere months after the murderous incident that had prompted our departure from Camulod. The large, square sail sagged limp in the languid, early-morning breeze that wafted the fog softly from the surface of the bay into which we drew, dispersing its drifting wreaths into nothingness. The oarsmen who propelled the vessel did so cautiously, their eyes intent upon the boatmaster, Tearlach, who directed them with arm and hand movements, his own eyes fixed on the wharf that stretched to meet us.
I stood on the stern deck with the galley's captain, Connor Mac Athol-Connor, Son of Athol, Son of Iain. Connor's father was the King of the Scots of Eire, the people whom the Romans had called the Scotii of Hibernia, and Connor of the Wooden Leg, as his men called him, was the king's admiral in the Southern Seas. I followed his gaze now to where two other galleys, one of them dwarfing its consort, lay already moored at the long wooden pier, on the side farther from us. They were unmistakable-warships like the one in which we rode, sleek and deadly in their aggressive lines-and I could tell from Connor's face that they were not his. They seemed to be deserted, their massive booms angled at the tops of their masts and their sails furled and bound. Beside them, the score or so of fishing boats that shared the anchorage, at that main wharf and at the smaller pier built to the south, seemed tiny. I glanced back to Connor.
"Whose are they?"
His face betrayed nothing of what he thought, but his tone betrayed tension. "They are Liam's. The Sons of Condran."
"What will you do?"
"Nothing. Ignore them. Then leave before they do."
"That one is huge, larger than this."
"Aye, it ships forty-eight oars to our thirty-six. That's Liam's own galley."
"And? Will you fight them?"
His features creased in a wintry little smile. "Probably, but not here. Not in Ravenglass. This is neutral ground."
"Forgive me, I don't understand. What does that mean?"
He turned his head now to look at me. "Simply what it says. This is the only harbour in the entire north-west where ships can call and provision themselves in safety.
Merlyn Britannicus, Commander of Camulod, must educate his young charge, Arthur Pendragon, future King of Britain.
Threats against young Arthur's life have forced Merlyn and the boy to leave Camulod, settling in an abandoned Roman fort, where they are safe from political intrigue. Enlisting help from a close-knit group of friends, Merlyn teaches the young King about warfare, justice, honour and the responsibilities of leadership in preparation to wield the sword Excalibur.
When the tenuous peace of Camulod is threatened by unrest in neighbouring regions, Merlyn faces a dilemma. How can he prepare the young Arthur to be a ruler of men when he continues to train him in isolation? Merlyn knows that he must risk the dream of his grandfather Caius Britannicus if he is ever to fulfill it. JACK WHYTE was born and raised in Scotland and immigrated to Canada in 1967. He is an actor, orator, singer, and poet, and was awarded an honorary doctor of letters for his contribution to Canadian popular fiction. He is the author of the Dream of Eagles series (eight Arthurian novels set in Roman Britain) and the Templar Trilogy (featuring the legendary Knights Templar). Whyte's novels are also published in the United States, the U.K., Australia, New Zealand, Germany, France, the Netherlands, Portugal, Spain, Italy, Brazil, and Russia. He lives in Kelowna, British Columbia.
ONE
We stood together on the forward deck of a galley that moved slowly forward through a bright, still September morning, mere months after the murderous incident that had prompted our departure from Camulod. The large, square sail sagged limp in the languid, early-morning breeze that wafted the fog softly from the surface of the bay into which we drew, dispersing its drifting wreaths into nothingness. The oarsmen who propelled the vessel did so cautiously, their eyes intent upon the boatmaster, Tearlach, who directed them with arm and hand movements, his own eyes fixed on the wharf that stretched to meet us.
I stood on the stern deck with the galley's captain, Connor Mac Athol-Connor, Son of Athol, Son of Iain. Connor's father was the King of the Scots of Eire, the people whom the Romans had called the Scotii of Hibernia, and Connor of the Wooden Leg, as his men called him, was the king's admiral in the Southern Seas. I followed his gaze now to where two other galleys, one of them dwarfing its consort, lay already moored at the long wooden pier, on the side farther from us. They were unmistakable-warships like the one in which we rode, sleek and deadly in their aggressive lines-and I could tell from Connor's face that they were not his. They seemed to be deserted, their massive booms angled at the tops of their masts and their sails furled and bound. Beside them, the score or so of fishing boats that shared the anchorage, at that main wharf and at the smaller pier built to the south, seemed tiny. I glanced back to Connor.
"Whose are they?"
His face betrayed nothing of what he thought, but his tone betrayed tension. "They are Liam's. The Sons of Condran."
"What will you do?"
"Nothing. Ignore them. Then leave before they do."
"That one is huge, larger than this."
"Aye, it ships forty-eight oars to our thirty-six. That's Liam's own galley."
"And? Will you fight them?"
His features creased in a wintry little smile. "Probably, but not here. Not in Ravenglass. This is neutral ground."
"Forgive me, I don't understand. What does that mean?"
He turned his head now to look at me. "Simply what it says. This is the only harbour in the entire north-west where ships can call and provision themselves in safety.
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- SeriesCamulod Chronicles #5