by Mary Stewart
"I can try. I shall have help. Yours, too, I hope?"
"You have it."
"You shame me, Cador"
"Hardly that," he said. "You were right. It was true that I hated you. I was young then, but I have come to see things differently; perhaps more clearly. For my own sake, if for nothing else, I cannot stand by and see Uther so bound to Lot, and Lot succeeding in his ambition. Arthur's is the one strong claim which can't be denied, and his is the one hand which can hold the kingdoms together — if any hand can do it now. Oh, yes, I would support him."
I was reflecting that even at fifteen Cador had been a realist; now, his tough-minded common sense was like a gust of cold air through a musty council-chamber. "Does Lot know this?" I asked him.
"I have made it clear, I think. Lot knows I would oppose him, and so would the northern lords of Rheged, and the kings of Wales. But there are others I am not sure of, and many who will be swayed either way if their lands are threatened. The times are dangerous, Merlin. You knew Eosa went to Germany, and was consorting with Colgrim and Badulf? Yes? Well, news came a short while ago that long-ships had been massing across the German Sea from Segedunum and that the Picts have opened their harbours to them."
"I had not heard that. Then there'll be fighting before winter?"
He nodded. "Before the month is out. That's why I am here, Maelgon stays on the Irish Shore, but the danger is not on the west; not yet. The attack will come from east and north."
"Ah." I smiled. "Then certain things will be made clear very soon, I think."
He had been watching me intently. Now his mouth relaxed, and he nodded again. "You see it? Of course you do. Yes, one good thing may come out of this clash — Lot must declare himself. If, as rumour has it, he has been making advances to the Saxons, then he will have to declare for Colgrim. If he wants Morgian, and the High Kingdom along with her, he'll have to fight for Uther." He laughed with genuine amusement. "It's Octa's death that has brought Colgrim raging straight across the German Sea, and forced Lot's hand. If he'd waited for the spring, Lot would have had Morgian, and could have received Colgrim too, and used the Saxons to set himself up as High King, like Vortigern before him. As it is, we shall see."
"Where is the King?" I asked.
"On his way north. He should be at Luguvallium within the week."
"He'll lead the field himself?"
"He intends to, though as you know he's a sick man. It seems that Colgrim may have forced Uther's hand, too. I think he will send for Arthur now. I think he will have to."
"Whether he sends or not," I said, "Arthur will be there." I saw the excitement spring to Cador's face again, and asked him: "Will you give him escort, Duke?"
"Willingly, by God! You'll come with him?"
I said: "After this, where he is, I am."
"And you'll be needed," he said meaningly. "Pray God Uther has not left it too late. Even with proof of Arthur's parentage, and the King's own sword fast in his hand, it won't be easy to persuade the nobles to declare for an untried boy... And Lot's faction will fight back every foot of the way. Better to take them by surprise, like this. The boy will need all you can throw into the scale for him."
I smiled. "He can throw in quite a lot himself. He's to be reckoned with, Cador, make no mistake. He's no kingmaker's toy."
He grinned. "You don't need to tell me that. Did you know he was more like you than ever like the King?"
I spoke with my eyes on the glittering surface of the lake. "I think it is my sword, not Uther's, which will carry him to the kingship."
He sat up sharply. "Yes. That sword. Where in middle-earth did he find that sword?"
"On Caer Bannog."
His eyes widened. "He went there? Then, by God, he's welcome to it and all it brings him! I'd not have dared! What took him there?"
"He went to save the hound. It had been given him by his friend. You might call it chance that took him there."
"Oh, aye. The same kind of chance that brought me along the lake-side today, to find a poor hermit, and a boy called Ambrosius, who holds a sword which might well befit a king?"
"Or an emperor," I said. "It's the sword of Macsen Wledig,"
"So?" He drew in his breath. I saw the same look in his eyes as there had been in the Cornish troopers' when I spoke of the enchanted island. "This was the claim you were speaking of? You found that sword for him? You cast your net wide, Merlin."
"I cast no net. I go with the time."
"Yes. I see." He drew another long breath, and looked about him as if he saw the day for the first time, with all its sunlight and moving breezes and the island floating on the water. "And now for you, and for him and all of us, the time is come?"
"I think so. He found the sword where I had laid it, and you came, hard on its finding. All the year the King has been urged to make proclamation and he has done nothing. So instead, we will do it. You lie tonight at Galava?"
"Yes." He sat up, pushing the dagger home in its sheath with a rap. "You'll join us there? We ride at sun-up."
"I shall be there tonight," I said, "and Arthur with me. Today he stays with me in the forest. We have things to say to one another."
He looked at me curiously. "He knows nothing yet?"
"Nothing," I said. "I promised the King."
"Then until the King speaks publicly, I'll see he learns nothing. Some of my men may suspect, but they are all loyal. You needn't fear them."
I got to my feet, and he followed suit. He raised a hand to his watching officer in the distance. I heard the words of command, and the sounds of the troop mounting. They rode towards us along the lake-side.
"You have a horse?" asked Cador. "Or shall I leave one with you now?"
"Thank you, no. I have one. I'll walk back to the chapel when I'm ready. There's something I have to do first."
He looked again at the sunlit forest, the still lake, the dreaming hills, as if power or magic must be ready to fall on me from their light. "Something still to do? Here?"
"Indeed." I picked up the fishing rod. "I still have to catch my dinner, and for two now, instead of one. And see, this day of days has even produced a breeze for me. If Arthur can lift the sword of Maximus from the lake, surely I shall be granted at least two decent fish?"
9
RALF MET ME AT THE EDGE OF the clearing, but we could not have much talk, because Arthur was nearby, sitting in the sun on the chapel steps, with Cabal at his feet.
I told Ralf quickly what he must do. He was to ride down now to the castle and tell Drusilla what had happened, that Arthur was safe with me, and that we would join Duke Cador on the ride north tomorrow. A message was to go ahead to Count Ector, and one to the King. Meanwhile Ralf was to ask the Countess to arrange with Abbot Martin to have the shrine tended during my absence.
"And are you going to tell him now?" asked Ralf.
"No. It's for Uther to tell him."
"Don't you think he may guess already, after what happened down yonder? He's been silent ever since, but with a look to him as if he'd been given more than a sword. What is that sword, Merlin?"
"It's said that Weland Smith himself made it, long ago. What is sure is that the Emperor Maximus used it, and that his men brought it home for the King of Britain."
"That one? And he tells me he found it on Caer Bannog... I begin to see... And now you take him to the King. Are you trying to force Uther's hand? Do you think the King will accept him?"
"I am sure of it. Uther must claim him now. I think we may find that he has sent for him already. You'd better go, Ralf. There'll be time to talk later. You'll ride with us, of course."
"You think I'd let you leave me behind?" He spoke gaily, but I could see that he was torn between relief and regret; on the one hand the knowledge that the long watch was over, on the other, that Arthur would now be taken from his care and committed to mine and the King's. But there was happiness, too, that he would soon be back in the press of affairs in an open position of trust, and able to wield
his sword against the kingdom's enemies. He saluted me, smiling, then turned and rode off down the tracks towards Galava.
The hoof-beats faded down through the forest. Sunlight poured into the clearing. The last of the water-drops had vanished from the pines, and the smell of resin filled the air. A thrush was singing somewhere. Late harebells were thick among the grass, and small blue butterflies moved over the white flowers of the blackberry. There was a hive of wild bees under the roof of the chapel; their humming filled the air, the sound of summer's end.
Through a man's life there are milestones, things he remembers even into the hour of his death. God knows that I have had more than a man's share of rich memories; the lives and deaths of kings, the coming and going of gods, the founding and destroying of kingdoms. But it is not always these great events that stick in the mind: here, now, in this final darkness, it is the small times that come back to me most vividly, the quiet human moments which I should like to live again, rather than the flaming times of power. I can still see, how clearly, the golden sunlight of that quiet afternoon. There is the sound of the spring, and the falling liquid of the thrush's song, the humming of the wild bees, the sudden flurry of the white hound scratching for fleas, and the sizzling sound of cooking where Arthur knelt over the wood fire, turning the trout on a spit of hazel, his face solemn, exalted, calm, lighted from within by whatever it is that sets such men alight. It was his beginning, and he knew it.
He did not ask me much, though a thousand questions must have been knocking at his lips. I think he knew, without knowing how, that we were on the threshold of events too great for talk. There are some things that one hesitates to bring down into words. Words change an idea by definitions too precise, meanings too hung about with the references of every day.
We ate in silence. I was wondering how to tell him, without breaking my promise to Uther, that I proposed to take him with me to the King. I thought that Ralf was wrong; the boy did not begin to guess the truth; but he must be wondering about the events of the day, not only the sword, but what there was between myself and Cador, and why Ralf had been so handled. But he said nothing, not even asking why Ralf had gone away and left him here alone with me. He seemed content with the moment. The angry little skirmish down by the lake might never have been.
We ate in the open air, and when we had finished, Arthur, without a word, removed the dishes and brought water in a bowl for me to wash with. Then he settled beside me on the chapel steps, lacing the fingers of his hands round one knee. The thrush still sang. Blue and shadowed, and misty with presence, the hills brooded, chin on knees, round the valley. I felt myself crowded already by the forces that waited there.
"The sword," he said. "You knew it was there, of course."
"Yes, I knew."
"He said... He called you an enchanter?" There was the faintest of queries in his voice. He wasn't looking at me. He sat on the step below me, head bent, looking down at the fingers laced round his knee.
"You knew that. You have seen me use magic."
"Yes. The first time I came here, when you showed me the sword in the stone altar, and I thought it was real..." He stopped abruptly, and his head came up. His voice was sharp with discovery. "It was real! This is the one, isn't it? The one the stone sword was carved from? Isn't it? Isn't it?"
"Yes."
"What sword is it, Myrddin?"
"Do you remember my telling you — you and Bedwyr — the story of Macsen Wledig?"
"Yes, I remember it well. You said that was the sword carved in the altar here." Again that note of discovery. "This is the same? His very sword?"
"Yes."
"How did it come there, on the island?"
I said: "I put it there, years back. I brought it from the place where it had been hidden."
He turned fully then, and looked at me. A long look. "You mean you found it? It's your sword?"
"I didn't say that."
"You found it by magic? Where?"
"I can't tell you that, Emrys. Some day you may need to search for the place yourself."
"Why should I?"
"I don't know. But a man's first need is a sword, to use against life, and conquer it. Once it is conquered, and he is older, he needs other food, for the spirit..."
After a bit I heard him say, softly: "What are you seeing, Myrddin?"
"I was seeing a settled and shining land, with corn growing rich in the valleys, and farmers working their fields in peace as they did in the time of the Romans. I was seeing a sword growing idle and discontented, and the days of peace stretching into bickering and division, and the need of a quest for the idle swords and the unfed spirits. Perhaps it was for this that the god took the grail and the spear back from me and hid them in the ground, so that one day you might set out to find the rest of Macsen's treasure. No, not you, but Bedwyr... It is his spirit, not yours, which will hunger and thirst, and slake itself in the wrong fountains."
As if from far away, I heard my own voice die, and silence come back. The thrush had flown, the bees seemed quiet. The boy was on his feet now, and staring.
He said, with all the force of simplicity: "Who are you?"
"My name is Myrddin Emrys, but I am known as Merlin the enchanter."
"Merlin? But then — but that means you are — you were — " He stopped, and swallowed.
"Merlinus Ambrosius, son of Ambrosius the High King? Yes."
He stood silent for a long time. I could see him thinking back, remembering, assessing. Not guessing about himself — he had been too deeply rooted, and for too long, in the person of Ector's bastard foster-son. And, like everyone else in the kingdom, he assumed that the prince was being royally reared in some court beyond the sea.
He spoke at length quietly, but with such a kind of inward force and joy that one wondered how he could contain it. What he said surprised me. "Then the sword was yours. You found it, not I. I was only sent to bring it to you. It is yours. I will get it for you now."
"No, wait, Emrys —"
But he had already gone. He brought the sword, running, and held it out to me.
"Here. It's yours." He sounded breathless. "I ought to have guessed who you were... Not away in Brittany with the prince, as some people have it, but here, in your own country, waiting till the time came to help the High King. You are the seed of Ambrosius. Only you could have found it, and I found it only because you sent me there. It is for you. Take it."
"No. Not for me. Not for a bastard seed."
"Does that make a difference? Does it?"
"Yes," I said gently.
He was silent. The sword sank to his side and was quenched in his shadow. I mistook his silence, and I remember that at the time I was relieved merely that he said no more.
I got to my feet. "Bring it now into the chapel. We'll leave it there, where it belongs, on the god's altar. Whichever god is sovereign in this place will watch it for us. It must wait here till the time comes for it to be claimed in the sight of men, by the legitimate heir to the kingdom."
"So. That's why you sent me for it? To bring it for him?"
"Yes. In due time it will be his."
A little to my surprise he smiled, apparently satisfied. He nodded calmly. We took the sword together into the chapel. He laid it on the altar, above its carved replica. They were the same. His hand left the hilt, lingeringly, and he stepped back to my side.
"And now," I said, "I have something to tell you. The Duke of Cornwall brought news —"
I got no further. The sound of hoofs, approaching rapidly through the forest, brought Cabal up, roach-backed and growling. Arthur whipped round. His voice was sharp.
"Listen! Is that Cornwall's troop back again? Something must be wrong... Are you sure they mean you well?"
I put a hand to his arm and he stopped, then, at the look on my face, asked: "What is it, then? Were you expecting this?"
"No. Yes. I hardly know. Wait, Emrys. Yes, this had to come. I thought it must. The day is not over yet."
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"What do you mean?"
I shook my head. "Come with me and meet them."
It was not Cornwall's troops that came clattering into the clearing. The Dragon glittered, red on gold. King's men. The officer halted his troop and rode forward. I saw his eye take in the wild clearing, the overgrown shrine, my own plain robes; it touched the boy at my side, no more than a touch, then came back to my face, and he saluted, bowing low.
The greeting was formal, in the King's name. It was followed by the news I had already had from Cador; that the King was marching north with his army, and would lie at Luguvallium, there to face the threat from Colgrim's forces. The man went on to tell me, looking troubled, that of late the King's sickness seemed to have taken hold of him again, and there were days when he had not the strength to ride, but proposed, if need be, to take the field in a litter. "And this is the message I was charged to give you, my lord. The High King, remembering the strength and help you gave to the army of his brother Aurelius Ambrosius, asks that you will come now out of your fastness, and go to him where he waits to meet his enemies." The message came, obviously, by rote. He finished: "My lord, I am to tell you that this is the summons you have been waiting for."
I bent my head. "I was expecting it. I had already sent to tell the King I was coming, and Emrys of Galava with me. You are to escort us? Then no doubt you will have the goodness to wait a while until we are ready. Emrys" — I turned to Arthur, standing in a white trance of excitement at my side — "come with me."
He followed me back into the chapel. As soon as we were out of sight of the troop he caught at my arm. "You're taking me? You're really taking me? And if it comes to a battle —"
"Then you shall fight in it."
"But my father, Count Ector... He may forbid it."
"You will not fight beside Count Ector. These are King's troops and you go with me. You will fight with the King."
He said joyously: "I knew this was a day of marvels! I thought at first that the white stag had led me to the sword, that it was for me. But now I see that it was just a sign that today I should ride to my first battle... What are you doing?"