Merlin's Mistake

by Robert Newman

  “You’ve come for them?” he said. “You?”

  “Don’t be a fool, Rufus!” said Tertius. “Do you think we’d come alone? Lay down your arms!” For several of the outlaws were reaching for their weapons. “Did you hear me? Lay them down! The camp is surrounded.”

  The outlaws looked around uneasily, and at that moment there was a faint rustling in the trees that overhung the palisade.

  “He’s lying!” said Rufus. “Who’d come here with them? They’re alone.”

  Drawing swords and knives and hefting axes, the outlaws began to spread out and advance toward them.

  “Wait!” said Rufus. “I’ve had no real sport in weeks. I’ll handle them myself. Beginning with you, farmer!” he said to Diccon.

  “No,” said Brian. “With me. By your leave, Diccon.” And brushing past him, he strode to the center of the enclosure.

  “Listen to him!” said Rufus. “Harken to our courtly young gentleman. By your leave, he says. Oh, I do like manners. Almost as much as I like spilling gentle blood!”

  Thrusting the knife into his belt, he held out his hands. Two redheaded outlaws, younger than he and clearly his sons, stood just behind him. One of them handed him a buckler and the other a sword.

  “I’ll gut you like a herring!” roared Rufus. “I’ll carve you like a Christmas goose!”

  “I give you leave to try,” said Brian, raising his shield and drawing Starflame.

  “You give me leave?” whispered Rufus. “You give me …?”

  Bellowing, he heaved up his sword and charged at Brian, cutting down at him with a stroke that would have felled a tree.

  Moving lightly, Brian slid away from it so smoothly that he barely needed his shield to fend it off. He knew he should be afraid. For while Rufus was not a skilled swordsman, he was a grown man, much bigger and stronger than Brian, and there was no doubt he meant to kill him. But apart from Brian’s cold anger at the outlaw, there was something else, something he had felt the first time he drew Starflame: a strange strength that seemed to flow from the sword, a sense that the blade was alive and that with it in his hand no one could stand against him.

  Recovering, Rufus struck again and again, Brian fending off every blow. Then he struck, straight and true, and so keen was Starflame that it cut through the buckler, shearing away most of the upper half of it. Rufus staggered back and for the first time, there was doubt—even fear—in his eyes. Catching himself, he slashed at Brian, a great swashing blow, and another and another. But always moving to his left, Brian caught them on his shield and put them aside. Then, when Rufus was raising his sword, Brian struck again, catching the outlaw’s blade near its middle. There was a shattering sound and the blade shivered into fragments, leaving Rufus holding only the hilt. Once more Brian brought Starflame up.

  “I yield! I yield!” gasped Rufus. “Take the cattle, the woman and the child, but spare me!”

  “And your men?” asked Brian.

  “No one will raise a hand against you!”

  “Very well,” said Brian, lowering his sword. “Where are they, his wife and child?”

  “In that hut,” said Rufus, pointing.

  Brian and Diccon both started toward it. But as they walked past Rufus,

  “Brian!” shouted Tertius.

  “Look out!” shrieked Maude.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Brian saw that Rufus had snatched the knife from his belt and was leaping after him to stab him in the back. But quickly as Rufus had moved, Migbeg was even quicker. His right hand flashed forward and Rufus stiffened. He stood there for a moment, looking down in surprise at the head of Migbeg’s spear that stood out a handsbreadth from his chest. Then the knife dropped from his hand, his knees buckled and he fell forward on his face.

  “Back to the others!” said Brian to Diccon.

  He and Diccon ran back to where Maude, Tertius and Migbeg waited; Maude and Tertius with daggers in their hands, and Migbeg with the sword Brian had given him. But as the outlaws, howling with rage, charged toward them, more spears whistled out of the trees that overlooked the palisade, striking down both of Rufus’s sons and killing or wounding several others. The remaining outlaws broke and fled out the gate. Dropping from the trees where they had been hiding, Migbeg’s men ran after them as grimly and silently as wolves.

  Brian watched them go, then turned to Tertius.

  “How did you know they were there?” he asked him.

  “I didn’t,” said Tertius.

  “But you told Rufus the camp was surrounded.”

  “Desperate plights call for desperate sleights,” said Tertius. “I hoped he’d believe it because I thought he’d think we were as mad to come here alone as I did.”

  “But still you followed us,” said Brian. “And so did you, Maude. Why?”

  “I have never known anyone,” said Maude, “who could ask sillier questions than you. Let’s see about Nan and Amy.”

  Diccon was already at the nearest hut. The door was closed and tied with withies. Cutting them with his axe, Diccon pulled the door open. The inside of the hut was dark, and at first they could see nothing.

  “Nan!” said Diccon tentatively. “Amy!”

  Two figures in the far corner stirred, and then they were both in his arms.

  “Are you all right?” asked Diccon.

  Nan, her face tear-stained, nodded.

  “I was frightened,” she said. “Terribly frightened. But I knew you’d come.”

  “So did I,” said Amy. “And I knew you’d come too,” she said to Brian.

  “Did you, Amy?” he said kissing her. “Even though we were gone?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “Can we go home now? I don’t like this place, and I didn’t like those men.”

  “I don’t think you or anyone else need ever worry about them again,” said Brian.

  By this time Migbeg had joined them and was standing just outside the hut.

  “Who’s that?” asked Amy, looking at him curiously.

  “That’s Migbeg,” said Brian.

  “Is he a friend of yours?”

  “A very good friend,” said Brian, “of mine, of your father’s and of yours too. For without him we should never have found our way here. Nor,” looking past Migbeg at Rufus’s body, “is it likely that any of us would have left here.”

  “Then I suppose I should thank him,” said Amy. And smiling at him, she said, “Thank you, Migbeg.”

  Migbeg looked down at her gravely. Then something happened to his fierce, dark face and, for the first time since they had met him, he smiled too.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It took them a good deal longer to cross the marshes on their return than it had to get to the outlaws’ camp. For, besides Nan, Amy and the cattle, they had three women with them: poor frightened creatures who had been captured by Rufus and his men in earlier raids south of the fens. In the same hut was the booty the outlaws had brought back from those raids: goblets, candlesticks, a few pieces of jewelry and a small bag of coins. Brian and the others had wanted none of this and told Diccon to keep it, but he said he would keep only enough to pay for the rebuilding of his house and byre and would give the rest to Sir Roger to share among those who had suffered at the outlaws’ hands.

  As they neared the river, they heard voices and there, crossing at the ford, were Andrew and some two dozen farmers; a few armed with swords, the rest with bows, pikes and axes.

  Seeing Nan and Amy, Andrew’s bright eyes went to Migbeg and his men who were still with them, guiding them and helping them drive the cattle.

  “It seems you have other friends besides us, Diccon,” he said. Then, looking again at Nan and Amy, “They are all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “What of Rufus?”

  “He and his sons are dead. As for the others, I don’t think we need worry about them again.”

  “That’s good news. And I have news for you that is almost as good. We were able to save your house. The roof will need that
ching, but we will help you with that and also help you build a new byre. So things are not as bad as they might have been, thanks to your friends.”

  “Thanks indeed,” said Diccon.

  Uneasy in the presence of all these strangers, Migbeg’s men drew back to the edge of the river. Only Migbeg himself stood his ground. Going over to him, Diccon took his hand and told him he would never forget what he had done and that he hoped that one day he would be able to repay him. Migbeg may not have understood the words, but it was clear that he understood what lay behind them for he nodded gravely. As he turned to go, Maude stopped him.

  “Wait, Migbeg,” she said. “Brian gave you something before: that sword. But without your help we would not be here now, and so I would like to give you something too.”

  Reaching up inside her sleeve, she took a gold bracelet from her arm and slipped it onto his. He looked down at it, at her, and then—as he had with Brian—he put his left hand on her shoulder and gripped her wrist with his right. Again as he had with Brian, he looked deep into her eyes. Then raising his spear in salute, he led his men across the river and back toward the heath.

  As Andrew had said, except for the partly burned thatch, Diccon’s house was undamaged. And since it was late afternoon, Brian, Maude and Tertius spent the night there.

  “Will you still come see us again?” asked Amy the next morning as they got ready to leave.

  “Yes, Amy,” said Brian.

  “All of you?”

  “I can’t speak for Maude and Tertius. They may not be able to. But I shall come back.”

  She was sitting on his lap, holding his hand and playing with his ring. Looking down at it she asked, “What’s this? The animal on your ring?”

  “It’s a wivern,” he said. “The Caercorbin crest.”

  “What’s a wivern?”

  “It’s a kind of dragon with wings and a long tail.”

  “Oh,” she said, examining it. “It’s different from our dragon. Our dragon has horns.”

  Brian looked at her, then at Diccon.

  “Is that true?” he asked. “Is there a dragon in these parts?”

  “So they say,” said Diccon. “I have never seen it, but my grandfather said that he did once—in the hills south of the fens.”

  “And it has horns?”

  “So he said.”

  Again they said farewell, and Diccon repeated everything he had said to Migbeg—that he would never forget what they had done—and this time Nan as well as Amy kissed them all and both of them stood with Diccon, waving to them as they rode off eastward along the river.

  “Now where?” asked Maude.

  “I suspect we are all thinking the same thing,” said Tertius.

  “About the dragon’s horn,” said Brian. “That the Knight with the Red Shield will have drunk from it.”

  “Yes,” said Tertius. “Not that I believe there is such a thing as a dragon.”

  “Even if there is,” said Maude, “I don’t see what good it will do. I mean, if it’s alive how can anyone drink from its horn?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tertius. “But since it’s the only clue we have at the moment, I think we should follow it.”

  Brian glanced at Maude and when she shrugged, he said, “Then we’ll go south. I’ve always wanted to see a dragon.”

  They continued on along the riverbank until they came to a causeway that led south across the fens. It was old and narrow, turning and twisting this way and that, linking together the occasional islands of solid ground. They rode along it for most of the day, meeting no one and seeing nothing but marsh birds: geese, ducks, herons and an occasional hawk. Late in the afternoon they reached the far side of the fens, and to the south they could see the hills. They rode toward them, finding them to be higher than they had seemed and quite rocky and barren. There, too, they met no one. But just before dusk, when they were looking for a place to camp, they came to a valley that was surrounded by steep cliffs. A stream ran through it and, sitting at the mouth of a cave at the base of the cliffs, was a hermit.

  He was a small man, his face as brown and wrinkled as a walnut. He wore a ragged, faded robe with a cowl. Birds circled around his head and perched on his shoulders. He glanced at them as they approached, then pointedly turned his back to them.

  “Good evening,” said Brian politely.

  His back still to them, the hermit grunted.

  “Are we disturbing you?” asked Brian.

  “Of course you’re disturbing me,” he said, brushing the birds off his shoulders.

  “I’m sorry. We’ll go away, then.”

  “Since you’re here,” he said gruffly, “obviously you’ve got to stay. But don’t expect me to entertain you.” And rising, he disappeared into the cave.

  “What shall we do?” asked Brian.

  “You heard him,” said Maude. “He couldn’t say so, but it’s clear he wants us to stay.”

  Unsaddling the horses and the mule, they turned them loose to graze on the grass that grew along the banks of the stream and built a fire. While they were eating their supper the hermit came out of the cave again.

  “Is that cheese?” he asked.

  “Yes, it is,” said Tertius. “Would you like some?”

  The hermit fixed him with a fierce blue eye.

  “Like some? When I first came here I used to dream about cheese. Not about a soft bed or a warm room or any other kind of food, but just cheese. And now you’re tempting me again to the sin of gluttony!”

  “I don’t see,” said Maude, “how eating one piece of cheese can be called gluttony. Here.” And cutting a large wedge of it she set it down in front of him.

  He looked at it, at her, then, “But suppose, after I eat it, I want another piece?”

  “If you do, you can have it,” she said. “But resisting temptation is a recognized form of spiritual exercise.”

  He continued to look at the cheese and finally, with a sigh, he picked it up and began to eat it. The birds were back, circling his head and settling on his shoulders and now he gave up pretending to brush them away and instead held up bits of cheese which they took from his fingers. When he had finished, he sighed again.

  “Now I suppose I’ll start dreaming about it again,” he said. “But I don’t care. I suppose you’re on a quest.”

  “Yes,” said Brian. “Or rather on three different quests.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the end, most quests turn out to be the same one. Isn’t that so?” he asked Tertius.

  “I know that there are those who think so,” said Tertius. “And whether it’s true or not, I’ve felt from the beginning that our three quests are intertwined.”

  “And what’s yours?”

  “I’m looking for someone to teach me something.”

  “Something meaning anything at all or something in particular?”

  “Something in particular. But Brian here is looking for something even more specific: the Knight with the Red Shield. Do you know anything about him? Have you ever seen him or heard of him?”

  “No,” said the hermit. “You’re the first visitors I’ve had in months. What about your quest?” he asked Maude.

  “I’d rather not talk about it,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to. But perhaps you can tell us something about the dragon.”

  “What dragon?”

  “We were told that there was one somewhere in these hills. Is that true?”

  “Yes. He lives in one of the valleys to the south.”

  “What kind of dragon is he?” asked Brian.

  “What kind?”

  “Yes. Is he wicked?”

  “There you go,” said the hermit irascibly, “tempting me. A question like that is an open invitation to a homily on good and evil, on man’s nature and the nature of beasts. And I hate that sort of thing. Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Brian.


  “Then let me just say that, as far as I know, he has never hurt anyone or anything.”

  “In other words, he’s not dangerous.”

  “Ah,” said the hermit. “That’s something else again. I’m sure he could be. Why are you so interested in him?”

  “Because we thought we’d like to see him.”

  “Does he have anything to do with your quest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then of course you must see him. I’ll tell you how to find him tomorrow.”

  They slept beside the fire outside the cave that night and in the morning when they had breakfasted and saddled up, the hermit said, “You wanted to know about the dragon.”

  “Yes,” said Brian.

  “Continue straight on south. He lives in the next valley but one. You can’t miss it.” He paused. “Now I suppose you’d like me to do something that one expects of hermits: either bless you or give you some truly sage advice. But the truth is that I’m not holy enough for the one or wise enough for the other.”

  “I don’t believe that,” said Brian politely.

  “Well, you should. Everyone thinks that because a man’s a hermit there must be something special about him. But, in my case at least, there’s not. Still,” looking thoughtfully at Brian, “since you’re the warrior of your little group, perhaps there’s something I can say to you. Remember that refusing a challenge can be as much of a test as accepting one.”

  “I’m not sure I know what that means,” said Brian, “but I’ll remember it. Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye,” said the hermit.

  They mounted and rode on south. The next valley was rocky and barren too, much like the one they had just left. But when they came to the one beyond that, they found it to be quite different. It too was surrounded by cliffs, but it was large and green, partly meadow and partly wooded, with a clear blue lake in its center. The trail that led down into it was so steep and narrow they had to dismount and lead their horses.

  It was almost noon, and as they rode across the meadow toward the wood that bordered the lake, the heat was almost tropical.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday, Maude,” said Tertius. “About not seeing what good it would do to look for the dragon. And it occurred to me that if we had one of its horns, we would not have to go on searching for the Knight with the Red Shield. He would have to find us. I mean, dragons’ horns aren’t exactly common.”