by J A Cummings
He wondered what his father was doing, and how his mother and his brothers were. He missed the scent of the Highlands and the cold winds of the Orkneys, and he ached for his lost home. He had acted according to his conscience, which gave him some comfort, but he had not realized how much he would be giving up.
“What are we doing here?” he asked his horse. Gringolet looked back at him with sympathy, and Gawain thought that he must have been wondering the same thing. “Do you miss Lothian as much as I do?”
He went into the stall and hugged the animal’s neck, and the horse ducked its chin over his shoulder to press him closer. Agravaine had told him he was stupid to care so much for one horse, since he would ride many as a knight, but he loved Gringolet and always would. He saw no harm in affection when it caused no dishonor.
Honor had cost him his home and his family, and had left him here, wintering in a place he wasn’t wanted with people he didn’t even like. At times like this, he wondered darkly if honor was really worth as much as he’d heard people say it was.
Morning broke quiet and gray over Ceredigion. The fortress of Bremia, which King Portu’s father had chosen as his seat of power, stood on the Sarn Helen road, another remnant of Britannia’s Roman past. The road was heavy with carts bringing gold from the nearby mines, and Merlin smiled to himself as he rode past the laboring miners dragging the fruits of their labor to the king.
Bremia’s walls were blank and gray, but they were hung with banners of blue, yellow and red, and a garland of colorful rags knotted into bows hung over the gate. The miners with their loads of gold were joined by farmers bringing the best of their crops, along with people on foot coming to the celebration. The harvest festival in Ceredigion was well attended this year.
He rode through the gate, nodding a greeting to the bored guard who waved him through without so much as a glance. It would have been an understatement to say that the defenses of Ceredigion were lax. Merlin hoped that when the festival was over, they would be more cautious.
The castle was festooned with colored banners, the same as the ones that hung on the walls. All around it, clustered at its foot like chicks around a brooding hen, the homes and shops of the people of Bremia stood. The marketplace was a riot of noise and scent, and it was so thronged with people that Merlin had trouble riding through the crowd. Street performers entertained the citizenry with acrobatics and parlor tricks on the corners, including one madcap supposed magician who cavorted atop a bench with burning torches that he was juggling. When the performer saw Merlin, he recognized him, and the performer nearly dropped his brands. The druid smiled at him as kindly as he could. He was feeling magnanimous today.
The crowds thinned out at the entry to the castle, which had been thrown open wide to welcome visitors. In the bailey within the castle walls, a pair of knights were jousting, having a practice run before the tournament that would be the capstone of the festival. He rode past their tiltyard and gave his mount over to the groom who waited at the stable.
“Water and rest for him, but little food. I will be leaving again soon.”
The groom nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Merlin passed him a coin, a gold Cantiaci stater. “Enjoy the festival,” the druid told him. “You will find something of great value to you in the fruit stalls.”
The grinning groom bowed to him in thanks and hastened to give his horse the royal treatment, which Merlin thought was as it should be.
He walked to the doors of the castle keep, where the guards were somewhat more alert than the one on the walls. “Stop and be recognized,” said one of them, a sturdy fellow with a pockmarked face.
He knew he didn’t look much like a druid, considering he was wearing his armor and with a sword at his hip, but he had expected the guard to know his face. He frowned, slightly affronted. “I am Merlin of Ynys Môn, here to see King Portu.”
The guard saluted him in the Roman fashion, which amused Merlin to no end. “Sir, I did not recognize you without your robes. Enter, friend.”
He walked into the keep, directly into the great hall. King Portu was sitting on his throne, hearing an argument between two of his subjects. Lionors, her belly beginning to swell, sat beside him. She looked up to see who had entered, and she seemed surprised to see him. He gave her a friendly smile and drifted into the gallery on her side of the dais.
King Portu issued his ruling on the matter before him, and Lionors leaned over to whisper in her father’s ear. He smiled broadly and said, “Court is dismissed. I must attend to an honored guest.”
The would-be supplicants who had come to him for judgment left grumbling, and Merlin stayed in place, smiling back at the king. “Well met and blessed be,” he greeted. “May the gods grant you prosperity and joy.”
“May they grant the same to you, my friend,” Portu said effusively. He left his throne and came down to the druid, and they shook hands. “What brings you here today? Are you here for our festival?”
“I will confess, I have a taste for Ceredigian mead, but that isn’t why I came. I am here to speak to your daughter.”
Lionors rose from the queen’s throne, her hand on her swelling abdomen. “It’s about the baby, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
Portu looked at his daughter, who nodded to him. He turned back to Merlin. “I will leave the two of you in privacy, then.”
“Many thanks, Your Majesty.”
They waited until they were alone, then Lionors said, “Tell me what you need to say.”
“I want to know if you will allow King Arthur to know his child.”
She looked surprised. “Why wouldn’t I? He deserves that much.”
“I’m glad to hear you say it.” He considered her for a moment, then asked, “Do you have any ambition to be High Queen?”
“None at all. I’ve already said as much.” Suspicion shadowed her expression, and she said, “You’ve come here to tell me to keep away from Arthur, haven’t you? You don’t need to say it. I am not in love with him and I have no wish to marry him. I won’t interfere with whatever your designs may be.”
“Excellent.” He smiled, feeling more relieved than he had expected to feel. “Then we are agreed. Is there anything that I can do for you while I’m here? Is there anything you need?”
She shook her head. “I’m well provided for, thank you.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you have any news about Sir Kay?”
“None, unfortunately. Caer Gai is my next stop. Do you have a message for him?”
Lionors said sadly, “He would not receive any messages from me, I fear, but tell him that I wish him well and remember him in my prayers each night.”
Merlin nodded. “I will tell him.”
She forced a smile. “Thank you.”
“King Arthur has been sending you letters. Have you been receiving them?”
She looked embarrassed. “I have… I just haven’t known what to say to him, so I haven’t read them.”
“You might wish to respond. He worries.”
“I will.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “If you have any need of anything, you need only send for me. Whatever I can give you is yours for the asking.”
“Can you make Kay love me again?”
Merlin was not normally given to compassion, but the sorrow in her voice made him ache for her. He said, “I’ll try to pound some reason into that thick skull of his. I make no promises, but I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all that I can ask.” She curtsied to him. “Good day, my lord.”
“Good day, Princess Lionors.”
He watched as she walked away. Before she reached the door, she turned and said, “Tell him this. Tell him that if I cannot marry him, I will marry no one. Tell him that I will wait for him until the end of time.”
Merlin nodded. “I will do so.”
She smiled her thanks, then left the great hall. The druid left the way he had come in, collecting his horse and heading out for Caer Gai.
<
br /> Guinevere kissed Arthur awake, and he opened his eyes to see her leaning over him, grinning. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.” His voice was creaky with sleep.
“It’s afternoon, actually,” she said with a smile. She straddled him, her hands on his shoulders, and he smiled up at her. “I’ve made up my mind,” she said. “I’ll wed you, if you ask me.”
“This isn’t the most romantic position for a proposal of marriage.”
Guinevere rubbed against him, sparking his desire. “Romance is overrated. This is much preferable.”
“If you insist…”
“Oh, I do.”
“You want me to propose marriage this way?” he asked, incredulous.
“No, not right now.”
She leaned down to kiss him, and then there was no more talking.
Merlin’s magic took him to the road outside Caer Gai. The gates were closed, and though there was some activity in the town below the former fortress, there was no sign of life inside. The air felt still and undisturbed, as if there had been no movement to stir it in a very long time. He flicked a finger at the gates, and they opened wide, allowing him into the tiltyard outside the keep.
The grass was overgrown in places, although a pair of sheep browsed slowly, removing some of the excess as they ate. The two dogs Kay had gotten from Lionors’ kennel sat listlessly in a pen beside the bath house, their sense of play evaporated. Ewain appeared in the stable door, looking surprised, and then he came forward to collect Merlin’s horse.
“Master Merlin,” he greeted. “Did Sir Kay know that you were coming?”
“No. I came unannounced. Is he in the keep?”
The groom nodded. “As far as I know.”
He frowned. “You haven’t seen him?”
“No, sir, not for days. My wife says he’s come to eat in the kitchen, but then he goes back upstairs.” He leaned closer and whispered, “He’s not seeing to the duties of a lord, if I might say so.”
Merlin sighed. “It sounds like he’s in the grip of an almighty sulk. I’ll talk to him.” He handed the reins to Ewain and walked into the keep.
The great hall had the same still feeling as the tiltyard, and he disliked the funereal atmosphere. He went up the stairs to the private rooms above the hall. The door to the lord’s room was closed, but Merlin could sense the life force of a single man inside. He did not knock, but only opened the door and stepped inside.
Kay was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His hair was unkempt and his beard, which had begun to fill in and look more manly, was dirty and flecked with food. He had gained a good deal of weight since the last time Merlin had seen him, and it was not becoming. Kay was wearing rumpled clothing and smelled of sweat and despair. Discarded clothes lay on the floor alongside dirty bowls and empty bottles that once held mead and ale. The young knight turned his eyes toward the door when Merlin came in, and when he saw the face of his visitor, he sat up.
“Merlin,” he said churlishly. “Why are you here?”
“I came to look in on you, and it seems I should have done so a long time ago. Kay, this is a disgrace.”
He lay back down. “Leave me alone.”
“I think you’ve been left alone for too long. Get up.”
“No.”
“You are behaving in a manner unbefitting a knight,” he scolded.
“I don’t care.”
“Clearly.”
He gestured toward the bed, and it lurched suddenly beneath Kay, dumping him onto the floor. The young knight jumped up to his feet, angry and spoiling for a fight.
“What was that for?” Kay demanded. “How dare you use your magic against me!”
“Someone needed to do something, because you’re being ridiculous.” He crossed his arms. “Get cleaned up. You’re disgusting.”
Kay glowered and tried to push past Merlin and out the door, but the druid prevented his escape. He cast another spell, and the knight was abruptly cleaned and combed, his clothes clean and his smell much more tolerable. Kay sputtered and looked down upon himself.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“You have a duty as King Arthur’s seneschal.”
“To hell with King Arthur!” he spat. Merlin raised an eyebrow, and Kay elaborated. “I hate him. I hate everything about him. He’s taken everything from me and I want him to die.” He sagged. “I want to die.”
The druid chuckled, which enraged the young man. “You can’t get what you want all the time, my boy, and that is the last time you speak that way about the king where I can hear you. Those words are treason.”
Kay threw his hands up in the air in disgust and sat on the edge of the bed. “So, I’m clean and I’m up. What more do you want?”
He crossed his arms again. “I want you to come to Mons Badonicus for Yule, or to allow Arthur and his entourage to come here. You and he are brothers, and you should spend the holiday together.”
The young knight shook his head. “I am not equipped to host a king or his retainers. How many people does he travel with? Anyway, I’m sure that now he’s king, he’s far too important to come to a little hole like this.”
“Those are poor excuses. I can equip you for the visit, and Arthur will never feel too important for his boyhood home, or for his brother.”
“Foster brother,” Kay corrected.
“Yes, foster brother, but raised by the same father, who would be annoyed beyond endurance by your behavior. Is this how you honor his memory? By neglecting the keep and holdings that he worked so hard to maintain?”
Kay blinked as if Merlin had struck him physically. “I’m not -”
“You are.” He cast more magic, and the room was cleaned, the discarded clothes and dishes and the empty bottles disappearing from view. “When was the last time you checked on your tenants? Winter is coming. Do you know if they have enough food stored up to last until spring? Enough firewood? Have you collected the harvest rent?”
He looked away. “No.”
“I thought not.” Merlin spoke in his most authoritative voice, which had power aplenty. “You will get on your feet and behave like a proper lord of this keep and land. You will prepare the keep to welcome Arthur and his entourage, and you will keep yourself clean and sober in the meantime.”
“I hate you.”
“Good. I’m not particularly fond of you, either.”
“Bastard!” Kay cursed.
“Yes, I am. What of it?” Merlin frowned at him in disapproval. “This is no way for the seneschal of the High King to behave.”
“Seneschal of nothing. He has no estate.”
“All estates in Britannia are his,” Merlin corrected, “and he will have a castle of his own in due course. You will have duties to perform. Can you even still ride a horse? Have you been eating and drinking yourself into a stupor all summer?”
Kay stood and pushed Merlin, his hands on the other man’s chest. “Get away from me! Go away! You have no right!”
A flash of magical power burst between them, and Kay found himself airborne. He landed on his back on the bed, his hands burning. Merlin stalked forward.
“Never touch me again, you miserable worm,” he growled. “I have killed many men for much less.”
“So kill me,” Kay whined. “I would prefer death to this life.”
The druid backhanded him, and Kay cried out in surprise and shock. “You have a part to play in Arthur’s destiny, and you will play it if I have to force you like a puppet. Would you like me to take your free will away? I can, and I will.”
Kay put his hand to his face, staring. “You struck me!”
“I did. And I will do it again if I feel the need.” He struggled with the task but regained his composure. “So what is it? Do you come to Mons Badonicus, or does Arthur come here?”
He looked ashamed. “Arthur can come home.”
Merlin was pleased by Kay’s choice of words, and with his decision. “Excellent. We will be
here before Yule.” He paused, then said, “I spoke to Lionors. She sends her love.”
Kay’s face twisted and he hissed, “I don’t want her love.”
“Too bad, because she still wants yours...although for the life of me, I can’t understand why.”
Kay stared at him for a long time, then asked, his voice small, “Is she… is she well?”
“Well enough, I would say. Her child grows, and so does her sorrow. She will not marry anyone if she can’t marry you, she says.”
He looked away. “Then she will die alone.”
“Not alone. She will have her son… your king’s son.”
“The king’s bastard,” he grumbled.
“True, but he will be a fine man in his time, much like his father.” Merlin shook his head. “Get out of this room and get to work. You have much to do before this place is back in the state it should be.”
He left Kay to wallow, annoyed. Everything he had ever believed about the young man was proving true, and this turn of events confirmed the visions of the future he had seen. He hoped that Kay could pull himself together enough to give his brother a proper welcome when they arrived.
Guinevere and Arthur lay together in his bed, her head on his shoulder. They had been lying in comfortable silence, enjoying another well-earned afterglow. He felt happier than he had any right to feel, and he wondered if every night and every morning would be like this once she was his wife.
Abruptly, she said, “I don’t care if you want to still have sex with Griflet or with other men,” she said. “But if you go to another woman, I will bite you.” She put her hand over his sex, gently squeezing to let him know where that bite would be delivered.
He chuckled, not at all intimidated. “That sounds fair.”
“It’s more than fair. It’s the law.”
“Yes, my queen.”
She tapped him on the nose with her fingertip as if he was an errant puppy. “I’m not your queen yet.”
“My lady.”
“Only a lady?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”