We made our way back to the church, but no more was said until the next morning, when we came before the bishop to take our leave. 'Will you try to stop the war from going any further?' asked Uflwys hopefully.
'Yes. They must be made to see that when it comes to fighting among ourselves, no one can win but the Saecsens: they will stand aside and watch while we slaughter one another and then swoop in to carve up the leavings.'
'Then I commend you to your task,' Bishop Uflwys said. 'I will do what I can here, of course, and I will pray for a swift and satisfactory resolution.' He raised his right hand in blessing. 'Go with God, my friends, and may our Lord uphold you in all grace.'
To the west of Caer Uintan the land is all bold hills and hidden valleys. The woodlands are less dense, the settlements more numerous and more prosperous than in the north. The Summer-lands lie to the west; and but a little farther, Ynys Witrin, the Glass Isle of old, now called Ynys Avallach: home of Avallach, the Fisher King, and his daughter, Charis, my mother.
Taliesin's people were gone from the Summerlands – as the region between Belgarum and Ynys Avallach was known-and the realm was held by a man named Bedegran. As a young man, Bedegran had fought alongside Aurelius, and I remembered him as a fair and forthright lord.
The next day we came to Bedegran's stronghold at Sorvym. His was a large realm, and as it was open to the sea by way of the Afen River-whereby the Sea Wolves often sought landfall – he had learned the value of vigilance.
Bedegran was out with part of his warband when we arrived. His steward assured us of our welcome, and bade us stay until his master returned. Being so close to Ynys Avallach, I was of half a mind to continue on, but agreed to wait if there was a chance of learning anything from Bedegran.
We were given a meal while we waited, and I slept a little. Pelleas meanwhile passed the time with Bedegran's steward, who said much that his master later confirmed: Morcant had been threatening their lands for some time, trying to provoke a war between them.
As yet, it was nothing but nuisance and vexation – a few cattle missing, fields trampled, and other such like. Bedegran had thus far succeeded in keeping his head and avoiding open confrontation which was, I reckoned, Morcant's desire.
Still, this uneasy peace could not survive much longer, for when Bedegran returned at dusk he wore his rage like a cloak aflame.
'I tell you I have suffered Morcant's insults long enough!' Bedegran complained as he stormed into his chamber. 'I have avoided bloodshed and battle by turning a blind eye. But when he begins forcing my people from their settlements, I can no longer look away!'
He stopped fuming long enough to acknowledge our presence. 'Greetings, Merlin Embries. Pelleas. Greetings and welcome. It is good to see you again. Forgive my anger just now. I did not know I entertained guests at my hearth.'
I dismissed the apology with a flick of my hand. 'We are aware of Morcant's treachery,' I told him. 'Your anger is justified.'
'He wants war,' Bedegran explained flatly. 'I have held it off this long, but keeping the peace needs two. If it is war, then I will fight – though loath am I to say it.' He began pacing back and forth before us. 'But this – this outrage! Merlin, I cannot stand aside. My people must be protected. Do not think to persuade me otherwise.'
'Protect them as you see fit,' I replied. 'I have not come to teach you your affairs.'
'Listen to me rant! Such tutelage as yours, I would endure. You are the one man above all others I would heed.' Bedegran smiled for the first time since entering. 'So? I am listening. Speak.'
'I have little enough to say. Nevertheless, I will tell you what I know: Morcant is raiding in Dubuni. Some of Madoc's lands have been seized, and Madoc's son has been killed, they say. But, as yet, Madoc has refused to fight.'
'Madoc is getting old. He knows he cannot win against Morcant. All the more, since Dunaut is hard by his other flank. Ach! Worse than vipers, the two of them.'
'Are they together in this?'
Bedegran shook his head. 'If they are I have not heard of it. But then, I had not heard about Madoc until now.' He paused. 'I am sorry about his son.'
'A hateful waste,' I mused, and it seemed that a young man's form instantly appeared before me, stretching out a hand as if beseeching aid. But it was not Madoc's son; this boy was younger-Arthur's age, no more. 'The son… the son… I had not considered the son…"
Bedegran raised his eyebrows. 'Merlin?'
'Does Morcant have a son?'
'He does," Bedegran replied. 'A young lad. I think his name is Cerdic. Yes, Cerdic. Why?'
Understanding broke over me. I knew what Madoc's herdsmen meant by collecting the blood debt. How stupid of me! Morcant was actively ridding himself of rivals, and making the path clear for his son. At least Arthur was safely out of sight in the north. I had been right to move him.
We talked of other matters then, and soon it was time for supper. Over meat, Bedegran asked, 'What will you do, Merlin Embries?'
'Whatever I can. For now, I mean to prevent war from devouring the south. Have I your pledge to keep the peace?'
'That you have, Merlin,' Bedegran answered, but added: 'If you can but keep Morcant and that snake, Dunaut, on their own lands all will be well.'
Later, when we were alone in our chamber, I told Pelleas, 'This is as bad as I feared. Fortunately, however, we have not come too late. This is for me alone, Pelleas. Who else can move with impunity from king to king? I stand between Britain and disaster.'
Oh, I was drunk with it! And I believed what I said – just as I believed that peace could be mediated between these yapping hounds who called themselves noblemen. I rested well that night, and the next day rode out full of confidence and high-minded intentions to save Britain from becoming enmired in a war which would benefit only the Saecsen in the end.
Madoc-sullen, frightened, and grief-stricken over the loss of his son – received us with as good a grace as he could command in the circumstances. He was in pain, and I hoped I might speak some consolation.
'Well?' he demanded, when the formalities of the greeting had been observed. 'What does the exalted Ambrosius of Britain require of this old man?'
Since he was prepared to be blunt, I answered him in kind. 'Do not allow Morcant to draw you into war.'
His chin came up sharply. 'Draw me into war? I have no intention of going to war with him, but if you think to talk me out of collecting the blood debt he owes me, save your breath. I mean to have satisfaction.'
'That is precisely what Morcant is counting on. He only waits for you to give him reason enough to strike openly.'
'What is that to you, great Ambrosius? Eh?' the ageing king growled. 'What makes this affair your concern?'
'The safety of Britain is the concern of all right-thinking men. I mean to do what I can to preserve the peace.'
'Then take yourself away to the Saecsen-brood!' he shouted. 'Go talk to them of peace. Leave me alone!'
There was no reasoning with him, so I departed, saying, 'You cannot win against Morcant; and Dunaut is likely with him in this. Do not think to make Bedegran your ally; I have spoken to him already, and he will not support you.'
'I need no help from anyone! Do you hear?'
Pelleas and I rode next to Dunaut, to tax him with his duplicity. Like Morcant, he proffered a cordial, if false, welcome. He sat in his big chair and smiled like a cream-stealing cat, but would answer none of my questions seriously. Finally, I lost all patience. 'Deny that you and Morcant are riding together,' I challenged. 'Deny that you are raising war against your neighbour kings.'
Shrewd Dunaut pursed his lips and appeared distracted. 'I do not understand you, Merlin,' he answered. 'We have these past years upheld your absurd trial. Even now, the Sword of Britain stands in the stone waiting to be claimed. Are you content with that? No! You attack us with accusations of war. You flit here and there raising suspicion and anger.' He paused, appearing hurt and distressed. 'Go back to your Glass Isle – go back to Celyddon, o
r wherever you abide. We do not need you here, meddler!'
Since I could get no more from him, I shook the dust from my feet and left the viper in his nest. Morcant and Dunaut were intent on war, that much was plain to me. Blind with ambition, and stupid with greed, they would conspire to Britain's fall.
God help us! It is ever the same with the small kings. As soon as the Saecsens give them breathing space, they begin hacking one another to pieces. The hopelessness of it!
'It grieves me, Pelleas. I am sick at heart,' I confessed to him once we were away. We rode on, turning the matter over in our minds.
'What of Tewdrig?' Pelleas wondered after a while. 'Surely he is more than a match for the likes of Morcant. Perhaps,' he suggested, 'you should let Tewdrig settle it for once and all.'
I considered this, but only for a moment. 'No, the cost is too great. We are not strong enough to war among ourselves and fend off the Saecsen as well.' That much was obvious to me; less evident was how to bring about peace and enforce it among those who did not desire it for themselves. 'We must make them understand, Pelleas.'
We spent the whole summer in a desperate attempt to make the petty lords of the south understand that warring among themselves weakened Britain and doomed us all. 'How long do you think the Saecsens will wait to seize the land you leave unprotected? How long do you think they will strive with the lords of the north when a weakened south beckons them?'
My questions, like my accusations, went unheeded and unanswered. I spoke words of truth and received lies in return. I persuaded and cajoled, threatened and charmed, pleaded, begged, coaxed and prodded. Morganwg snubbed me, Coledac grew haughty, and the others… Madoc, Ogrvan, Rhain, Owen Vinddu and all the rest feigned innocence or indifference and plotted treachery in their hearts. All my efforts came to nothing.
Exhausted in body and spirit, I turned at last to Ynys Avallach. It had been too long since I sojourned in that blessed realm. I ached to see Avallach and Charis again, and hoped to find solace and sympathy. In truth, I desperately needed a balm to heal my troubled spirit.
The Fisher King's palace remained unchanged as ever. The green mound of the tor rose above the quiet lake, its image reflected in the still waters. Apple trees graced the steep slopes, rising to the high, graceful walls. Peace and calm wreathed the isle like the mist upon the reed-fringed lake, and breathed an air of tranquillity soft as the light upon its shaded paths. Westering sun struck the soaring ramparts and towers, causing the pale stone to blush like fire-shot gold. The quality of this radiance suffused the very air so that it seemed to tingle on the skin – living light, transmuting all baser elements to finer, purer stuff.
Avallach, regal and dark, his beard curled and oiled, welcomed Pelleas and me gladly, and made much of us. Charis, Lady of the Lake, fairly glowed with love for me; her green eyes shone and her long golden hair gleamed as she led me, arm in arm, among the apple trees she tended with such care. We strolled the deep-shaded groves, or rowed the boat on the glassy lake in the evenings and went to our sleep with the song of nightingales on the night air.
Still and all, I ate and slept ill. I fretted. Even fishing in the lake below the tor with the Fisher King, I could not rest. Nor could I unburden myself to my mother. Charis, whose sympathy knew no restraint, comforted me as best she could. But I would not be comforted. In truth, it was not succour I needed, but a vision. And that I lacked.
I ask you, O Soul of Wisdom, tell me if you can: what remedy for the lack of a vision?
Day by day, my spirit grew colder. I felt as if I were freezing from the inside, as if my heart were hardening within me. I felt my very soul growing numb and heavy like a dead limb. Charis saw it. How could I hide it from the one who knew me better than any other?
One night, I sat at the table with my plate untouched before me, and listened to Charis explaining the work of the good brothers in the nearby abbey; there were, she told me, plans for a place of healing. 'It is only fitting,' she said. 'Taliesin saw the Summer Realm as a place where disease and infirmity were banished forever. And many come here seeking aid for their afflictions. The abbot has brought monks from Gaul and elsewhere – men who know much of healing and medicines.'
I was only half listening to her. 'Of course.'
She stopped, put her hand on my arm. 'Merlin, what is wrong?'
'It is nothing.' I sighed. I tried to smile, but found even that small effort too much. 'I am sorry. The abbey? You were saying-'
'Only that the healing work continues to flourish hereabout,' she replied quickly. 'But we are talking about you now. You are unhappy. I think it was a mistake for you to come here.'
'A sojourn in the Summer Kingdom is never a mistake,' I replied. 'I am simply overtired. God knows, I have reason enough – what with riding on one errand after another all summer.'
She leaned forward and took my hand in hers. 'It may be that you are needed elsewhere,' she continued, brushing aside my objection.
'I am not needed at all!' I shouted, and regretted it at once. 'I am sorry, Mother. Forgive me.'
She pressed my hand more tightly. 'Arthur needs you,' Charis said simply. 'Go back to Celyddon. If all you say is true, that is where the future lies.'
'Unless the southern lords turn from their warring ways, there is no future,' I concluded gloomily. I paused, remembering Uther's fiery temper. 'We need another Pendragon.'
'Go, my Hawk," she said. 'Return when you have found him.'
I slept poorly that night, and woke before dawn, restless. 'Ready the horses, Pelleas,' I told him curtly. 'We will leave as soon as we have broken fast.'
'Are we going to Londinium?'
'No, we have finished here; the south must fend for itself. We are going home.'
SEVEN
It is a long way to Caer Edyn, and a long time in which to contemplate the folly of self-important men. Despair embraced me to its bony breast; misery settled in my soul. The road took us east before turning north, passing close to the old Cantii lands of the coast. This south-eastern region is the Saecsen Shore, so called by the Romans for the linked system of beacons and outposts erected against the fierce seaborne invader. A tribe of Sea Wolves under a war leader named Aelle had taken over several of the abandoned fortresses on the south-east coast between the Wash and the Thamesis.
It was along this same stretch of southern coast that Vortigern settled Hengist and Horsa and their tribes in the vain hope of ending the incessant raiding that was slowly bleeding Britain dry. And it was from this coast that the barbarians spilled out to flood the surrounding land, until Aurelius contained and then defeated and banished them.
Now they were back, taking once more the land Hengist had overrun… the Saecsen Shore – its name would remain, but for a different reason. Unlike their fathers, these invaders meant to stay.
I thought of this and felt the sudden rush of the awen as it passed through me. I stopped and turned my horse to look back at the lands sloping away behind us. I saw the land fading as into a twilight haze, and it came into my mind that despite my best efforts, the night had already claimed the south. Now would begin a dark time; this I saw most clearly: despite ravenous Sea Wolves crowding his borders, Morcant would continue to press his idiotic war; Madoc, Bedegran and others would be forced to increase their warbands, and there would be much senseless bloodshed.
I had cried for a vision and now I had one. Oh, but it was bleak indeed. Great Light, have mercy on your servant!
Turning away from that grim prospect, I proceeded once more along the bramble-choked path, as if along the future's tangled pathways. There was little hope in what I saw, little comfort to hold against the gathering gloom. The darkness must have its season, and the land must endure its travail. That is the way of it!
Putting the south to our backs at last, Pelleas and I pressed on our way through the long, wide valleys which gave way eventually to deep green glens and cold-running streams and wild, wind-mumbled heights. The world was growing colder, I thought, and it w
as more than idle speculation, for we woke several times to snow in the night, though Samhain had not yet passed.
At length, we arrived at Ector's Rock weary and disheartened, the futility of our long sojourn clinging to us like our own sodden cloaks. Ector, who had been riding the circuit of his lands with Cai and Arthur, found us a little way from Caer Edyn.
Arthur gave a loud whoop and raced to meet me. 'Myrddin! Pelleas! You have returned.' He threw himself from his horse and ran to me. 'I thought you would never come back. I am glad to see you. I missed you both."
Before I could reply, Ectorius rode up, shouting, 'Hail, Emrys! Hail, Pelleas! If you had sent word, we would have met you on the road. Welcome!'
'Hail, Ector! I give you good greeting,' I replied. My gaze fell upon young Arthur, standing at the head of my horse. He fairly danced in place, hopping first on one foot, then the other, as he held the reins of our horses. 'I have missed you, lad,' I told him.
'Things are well in the south?' Ector asked.
'The south is lost,' I answered. 'Folly reigns. All day long the petty kings give themselves to treachery and war. What they do not destroy, the Saecsen stand ready to steal.'
Ectorius, the smile still playing on his face, glanced from one to the other of us, as if struggling to believe. Indeed, the rain had ended, the sun shone brightly, and hopeless words held no force against it. He cocked an eye towards the dazzling sky. 'Well' – Ector shrugged his shoulders lightly – 'you have had a long and difficult journey, to be sure. Perhaps you will find yourselves in a different mind after you have washed the road from your throats. Come, there is ale aplenty for that purpose.'
He turned and called to Cai and Arthur. 'What? Do you still linger here, young sluggards? Get you into your saddles and take the news home. Our friends have found their way back to us; we must celebrate their return. Tell the kitchens to prepare the best we have at hand. Ectorius demands a feast, tell them. Hie! Away!'
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