As Anviv’s blood smeared from the sword onto Merlin’s left hand, he felt dizzy, and the ground fell away from his feet. Everything in his weak eyesight turned to a soft whiteness, and waves of mist beat upon his face.
Upward he felt himself fly, and Uther’s new sword became heavy. Merlin gripped its hilt with both hands but feared he’d lose his hold in the quickening rain.
Suddenly the rising motion ended, and he fell. With a great shock he crashed onto a hard surface. When Merlin opened his eyes, he found himself lying, wet and cold, at the edge of a small glade within a vast forest. And his eyesight was clear.
In the center of the glade stood a giant boar, grunting and snorting as he thrashed his feet in every direction to crush a mob that was attacking him. His massive bristled back reared eight feet high, his regal snout jutted two feet long, and along his flanks rippled muscles of incredible strength.
Merlin lay in awe, transfixed by the magnificence of the creature. Surely none like it existed in all creation. Outward from his mouth curved two tusks, each the length of Merlin’s forearm. Each swipe crushed or impaled an attacker — but these weren’t men!
Thousands of ratlike creatures, all carrying ropes and running on two legs. One belt-high creature scrambled past Merlin, its stinking fur coated in slime and a fang-toothed smile upon its face. Merlin watched in horror as they skittered around the boar, trying to bind his legs. The boar slew dozens of them, but for every one he slew, ten more took its place, and the boar was soon bound and cruelly stretched upon the forest floor.
Out from the shadows stalked a stranger, taller than Merlin, and he held a bronze sword. He was a beast in man’s shape, with yellowed skin, and his nose almost as long as the rats’. His pupils were a goatlike horizontal shape, and from his jagged teeth hung strings of raw meat. Antlers grew from his skull, and his head was covered with a mane of thick, silver-green hair.
A forked tongue slithered in and out of his mouth, and he turned to face Merlin. “Gettest thou gone, briiight one. Keep not Kernunnosss from his prey. It is I who claim the throne of the Lord of the Forestsss!”
Kernunnos jumped at the boar and drove his blade into his back.
The boar shrieked in mortal terror and thrashed wildly.
The fallen leaves became slick with blood.
Bile rose in Merlin’s throat. He wanted the boar to escape and turn on these vile hunters. He pulled Uther’s sword from where he had dropped it on the grass and tested it, sharpened to a deadly edge by his father just that morning. He stepped forward to save the boar.
By then Kernunnos had leaped around the great animal, and he lifted his bronze sword above the taut belly.
Merlin winced as he looked to the anguished face of the boar, who strangely was able to grunt the plaintive words of “Hhheelllppp. Hellpp maaay.”
It was Merlin’s last chance. He ran forward and yelled, “Stop … You will not harm this creature!” A half-dozen rats died under his swinging blade, and the rest backed away. He jumped into the center and started to sever the rope holding down the boar’s forelegs.
Before he could finish, however, Kernunnos ran toward him. “I warned youu, and ssso your flesh shall be feasssted as well!”
Their swords struck with a clang.
Again and again their blades met, and each time Kernunnos pushed Merlin back by the ferocity of his attack. Whenever Merlin tried to gain an advantage, his sword met either empty air or a slicing parry. Kernunnos pushed Merlin toward the rats, who now sported flint-tipped spears.
In desperation Merlin charged, but his foe jumped to the side.
Merlin tumbled to the ground with Uther’s sword flying from his hand. In panic, he stretched out and touched his fingers to the hilt.
He was too late.
Kernunnos had planted his foot on the flat of the blade, and try as he might, Merlin couldn’t wrench it free. The amber-colored blade of his enemy jabbed toward Merlin’s face, and the rats trussed him and hung him by his hands from a tree.
He kicked at the silent rats until he spied Kernunnos. Once again, the beast stood at the chest of the boar. This time he held Uther’s sword.
“No!” Merlin yelled.
Kernunnos’s goat eyes burned with glee. “You cannot ssstop mee, briight one, and now I use your own sssteel. There is only one Lord of the Foresssst, and I will have reeevenge!”
Uther’s blade plunged into the boar, who squealed in agony and arched his bristled back to pull away, but in vain. He shook his head, and blood poured from his mouth.
Kernunnos slit the boar down the front, and the rats rushed in to gorge their appetites.
Merlin wept, yet through his tears he beheld an angel in a blinding white robe. He spoke, and his mighty voice shook the trees.
“BEWARE EVIL, MERLIN!”
The angel disappeared in a flash of light.
And Merlin’s last memory before losing consciousness was Kernunnos slipping toward him through a haze. Before his face he held Uther’s bloodstained sword pointing to the moon.
CHAPTER 24
OATHS UNTAKEN
With a start, Merlin found his blotched eyesight had returned. In his hands he still held Uther’s sword. His arms throbbed as if he’d been holding it for hours.
“Merlin?” said a voice nearby. It was gravelly, and the person spoke slowly.
“I’m here.”
“It is I … Colvarth, and I hold a rag for you to clean the blade.”
Merlin felt a wet cloth touch his left hand. Taking it, he wiped down the sword until the metal felt clean and cold, finally drying it with the other end of the rag.
“Let us … take the blade to Uther, and when he is ready, he will … ask you to swear fealty.”
Thunder sounded in the distance as Colvarth took Merlin’s arm and led him back to the Judgment Rock, where Uther again sat before the villagers.
Merlin held out the sword, hilt first, and Uther received it.
“My thanks, Merlin. You are dismissed for the moment.”
Colvarth directed him to a place on the grass next to Owain, who spoke to him. “Why the trouble cleaning Uther’s sword? Are you well?”
“I have a heavy burden. I can’t it explain now.”
Apparently he had missed some proceedings, for Abbot Crogen spoke. “And so, my lord, we ask for justice as well as help regarding the burning of our abbey.”
“Do you have witnesses against the druidow?”
“Yes, my lord. Two of our number witnessed three druidow lighting fire to the thatch roofs. Brother Melor and Brother Herrik, please step forward.”
Uther examined them, asking details of how they knew the torch wielders had been druidow. Then he called for other testimony.
To Merlin’s surprise, his father stepped forward.
“Yes, my lord, I was here on the village green last night prior to the burning of the abbey, and three druidow wearing the same clothing the monks described lit torches in my presence and ran eastward toward the abbey.”
Uther asked a few more questions, then, apparently convinced by the answers, he dismissed Owain. “My judgment goes against Mórganthu and the druidow. Tregeagle, approach.”
The magister stood before the High King.
“Tregeagle … as I must meet Gorlas at Dintaga, I charge you to exact the equivalent of five gold coins from the druidow as recompense to the monks of Bosvenna Abbey. You may collect cattle, clothing, coins, or any other possession of theirs.”
“Assuredly, my lord, without delay.”
“That is well,” Uther said. “And to assure the good abbot of your faithful collection, I ask you to pay him now.”
Tregeagle gulped loudly. “Now, splendid lord?”
“Yes, of course. From your treasury.”
“But —”
Uther sat forward. “You are planning to make Mórganthu pay, are you not?”
“Yes, but —” Tregeagle stammered.
“Is there a problem?”
“Splendid lord … I di
d not bring such a sum.”
Uther stood, holding his new blade in the air as if he was inspecting it. “Assuredly you did.”
Merlin’s father whispered. “He’s taking his sword and slicing Tregeagle’s belt …”
The belt fell ringing to the rock, and some of the coins rolled away.
Owain laughed. “Tregeagle’s going to faint!”
“Take five and pay the good abbot.”
“My lord,” Crogen protested, “three would suffice.”
“Five,” Uther said. “You must purchase supplies as well as pay the workers. And this amount still does not cover the lost years of work on the Scriptures. There is no price that can be put on such labors.”
Tregeagle groaned as he knelt to pick up his severed belt and scrabble after the lost coins.
Merlin could imagine how red his face must be as the magister slowly stood and dropped the coins into the abbot’s hand.
Tregeagle turned to leave, but Uther called him back. “Five. Your ability to count has grown stale, my magister.”
“Ah … yes, lord.” Tregeagle turned back to Crogen, dropped the final coin clinking into Crogan’s hands, then stepped off the rock.
“God’s blessings be upon you, my lord,” Abbot Crogen said once Tregeagle had gone.
Uther took a happy, babbling Arthur in his arms and sat down again. “Merlin, step forward so I may receive your fealty of servitude.”
Merlin let out his breath and bowed his head. How he wished that his father hadn’t pledged him. Why now — right when the two of them had finally grown close? A few steps, a few words, and his life would change forever. There would be no going back. He would have to leave Bosventor, his friends, and his family. Was this really the penance that Merlin’s father had to pay? Couldn’t they work this out some other way?
Colvarth coughed next to him, and the moment of indecision passed. Would Merlin really become a bard? A real bard? He knew it would take years of training, but a sudden excitement coursed through his heart and danced down his arms to his fingertips. This was something he could do, even if he was blind. A faint strum of harp strings floated through his mind, and he saw a vision of himself wearing a finely made black cloak pinned with a silver brooch and standing before a king. The chieftains of Britain as well as those of the heathen Saxenow feasted before him, and all looked upon his countenance as he played a song of wisdom and power. It was a sad song — a song of treachery, deceit, and tragedy—but the truth of its notes shone forth like an unquenchable torch.
In his vision, Merlin gazed upon a handsome young man who stood nearby wearing leather armor laced with iron scales. He had dark hair, and he smiled devotedly at Merlin. The young man’s face seemed familiar, but from where he didn’t know.
The vision faded, and the blur of Uther’s form appeared once again.
Colvarth placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you … ready, Merlin?” he asked.
Merlin nodded.
Colvarth led Merlin to the foot of Uther’s bench, where he bowed and repeated the old man’s words.
I beseech thee, High King,
and deign thee to bless with thy right hand.
The fealty of my mouth,
that I may speak well of thee.
The fealty of my heart,
that I may follow thee.
The fealty of my arms,
that I may fight against thine enemies.
And the fealty of my legs,
that I may go where thou commandest.
Merlin paused and swallowed before he said the last words.
For all my days will I serve thee and defend thee,
along with thine heir, and all that is right under Christ,
on the Isle of the Mighty.
As instructed by Colvarth, Merlin found Uther’s boot and kissed the fresh-smelling leather lacing. Then, reaching up, he found the dangling boot of young Arthur, small yet strong. As he kissed it, he wondered what kind of man Arthur would become. His life was bound to the boy’s now, for better or for worse. For a moment panic sprang up in Merlin’s heart. So young — still just a babe, in fact. What if Arthur grew to be a tyrant of a man? What of Merlin’s vow then?
Even as the question rose in his mind, his heart knew the answer. He would serve Arthur no matter what type of leader the prince became, but he would never compromise fealty to God, even if it cost him his life at Arthur’s hand. Yet in the capable care of his parents and Colvarth, the boy might grow into a godly High King, and for that Merlin prayed.
Uther raised his hand. “I receive your fealty, Merlin. And may the Lord Jesu bless your future service. Know that as I carry the mercy of Christ, I also carry the sword of God’s vengeance against all who do wrong, including oath breakers.”
Colvarth helped Merlin find his place on the grass before turning to the assembly. “Who will … likewise swear fealty, either to serve as a warrior to … fight the Saxenow or as a Briton grateful for the High King’s … protection?”
Merlin saw a small number of blurry forms rise and step forward. His father, sitting next to him, spoke the names in Merlin’s ear as each approached the Rock of Judgment. The monks. Allun the miller. Troslam and Safrowana. Kyallna the widow. Trevenna and Natalenya. And the char-man. Finally Merlin’s father rose and went forward as well. But the rest of the villagers remained sitting on the grass, murmuring in angry whispers.
“No more?” Colvarth called. “Do you understand that … you refuse your High King?”
Lightning flashed, striking the Meneth Gellik, and thunder rolled down the hillside.
Uther handed his son to Igerna and stood. Merlin heard the ring of metal as the High King pulled his sword once more from his belt. With it in his hand, he limped back and forth on the rock, and his feet scraped against it each time he turned.
He uttered a curse and then spoke to the people. “You think your Druid Stone more important than your king. You think yourselves safe here on the moor, far away from the coastal raiders, and that you need me not.”
The people quieted as the anger of the king rose.
“You are wrong,” Uther said. “I have seen the babes gutted by our enemies, the Saxenow! I have seen fathers begging for bread with their eyes gouged and gone. I have rescued the men and women taken as Pictish slaves to the northlands. I protect you while you sleep in safety on your straw.”
The people murmured again, but no one else came forward to take the oath.
“Do you hear? I have just come from raising Kembry, and they have sent most of their men, food, and weapons. All they could spare, because they know how dire the threat is. And now I have come to raise Kernow, and in two days I will meet King Gorlas to receive his help. Who will fight with us? Stand, men! Stand and join the battle!”
Merlin felt a few raindrops fall as another lightning bolt split the sky. The explosion was deafening, and it seemed the world dimmed for a brief moment.
“Citizens,” Uther called. “I give you one last chance! But before I do, I will show you a goodly example. There is an expected individual who has not yet sworn fealty to me, and thus I call forward Tregeagle, who will show his fealty to the one who protects his subjects.”
Tregeagle shuffled forward and bowed upon the grass before the Rock of Judgment where the king stood. “Speak, splendid lord. What shall your servant swear?”
“We will begin with the usual. Proceed.”
“I beseech thee, High King,” Tregeagle began, “and deign thee to protect me even as I swear fealty to thee and thine heir.”
Uther paced. “That is good. Now, swear that you utterly reject and hold in contempt this foolish druid Stone. Ha! Swear to crack it in half the next time you set eyes upon it!”
But only the rising wind answered the High King.
“Speak!” Uther commanded.
“I cannot, my lord,” Tregeagle mumbled.
Uther’s voice rose in mountainous anger. “What bewitchment is upon this village?”
Merlin sudde
nly felt all the hairs rise on the back of his neck, and his scalp felt as if scores of tiny worms crawled across it. The last time this happened was when Prontwon died. The lightning!
Uther roared in fury, and standing on the very edge of the Rock of Judgment, he raised his sword straight up, ready to slash it down and kill Tregeagle.
“Stop!” Trevenna and Natalenya shrieked.
Merlin burst forward. Holding his staff level, he charged the dark form of Uther. Surprising the High King, Merlin struck him full on the side and upset his balance so that they both tumbled to the grass.
Immediately lightning struck at the same spot where the High King had stood.
Everyone was blown back by its force. Screams and shouts coursed from the villagers. Arthur cried.
Twice more it struck, slicing the sky like an angry whip. When the booming finally faded, the air itself tasted burnt.
Uther turned and tried to pull Merlin up by the shoulders, but Merlin refused to rise. “My lord, I expect your judgment for daring to strike you.”
“You saved my life.” Uther heaved Merlin up and laughed. “Karo-Righ I call you, Merlin. Not servant but friend of the king!” The High King then stooped to help his wife up, with the bawling Arthur in her arms, just as hail poured from the sky like countless angry bees.
The villagers scattered as Uther and his retinue ran toward the village meeting house.
“Tas?” Merlin yelled through the driving ice. “Where should I go?”
“With Uther,” Owain called. “I’ll be at the smithy!”
Merlin felt Colvarth’s hand on his arm, and together they made their way to the cramped meeting house. At the door someone jostled them from behind to get out of the hail.
“Vortigern,” Colvarth said. “I did not see … you following us.”
CHAPTER 25
MYSTERIES UNBIDDEN
Uther pushed his way behind a table at the back of the crowded meeting house, evicted a warrior from the bench, and sat down. The air stank of sheep manure and wet leather, but that was the least of his concerns. It was those druidow, curse them! They were behind this village’s impudence. Colvarth had told him about these meddlers, but Uther had never expected to run into so many. Certainly not in this wee village. If its mountain fort hadn’t been on the main line of beacons, Uther would have never even come.
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