i spit on your truce, uther. if you want peace, throw down your swords.
lord uther, if i yield to the sword of power, what will you yield?
done!
my lord king uther, let us feast together. to my castle. lord merlin, you must join -
i would wish you such a wife, lord uther, as my igrayne. so innocent, but in bed, a furnace.
it's uther and all his best knights. he leaves behind little more than fledglings to guard his camp.