The Merlin Chronicles: Box Set (All Three Novels)

by Daniel Diehl

  Merlin sighed. “I do apologize. I had no idea it had been so long. But I’m finally finished with my work and I’m ready to take Jason and Beverley back to their own land.” He looked at Beverley, then at Jason, smiling. “When would you like to leave?”

  After nearly a month of hanging in limbo, they were both caught by surprise and it took them a few minutes to figure out when they could wrap up the small projects they had taken on to occupy their time while waiting for the wizard to reappear. Jason had been working with Davidd, the royal architect and head builder, teaching him the concept and structure of a chimney. Only months earlier he had resisted this same idea as being far too likely to change the future, but considering everything that had happened in the intervening months, something as minor as keeping warm hardly seemed to matter. While Jason wa building fireplaces, Beverley worked with Gwenhwyfar’s ladies, which she now referred to as her ‘nursing corps’ telling them everything she could remember about healthcare and sanitation including such simple things as boiling water to make it safe to drink. After a few minutes of confused back-and-forth Jason and Beverley decided they could be ready to leave in three days. That night they began packing their few belongings.

  “We really should take something back to show Dr Daniels. You know, something that would prove Arthur and Merlin and, well, all of this, really exists.” Beverley waved a hand through the air, encompassing their single room and, by extension, the entire Kingdom of the Britons. “Something that would show him, and the whole archaeological community, that you aren’t a complete crack-pot.”

  “Babe, I don’t think it would do any good. Anything we took back would look brand new. It wouldn’t be sixteen hundred years old. It would just look like a really good reproduction. Then they’d think I was crazier than they already do.”

  Beverley sighed, nodded and muttered “I wish we would have brought some modern clothes along. It never occurred to me how daft we’ll look when we get back.”

  “It’s ok. If Merlin takes us back to our flat it won’t matter. If we wind up in the center of town somewhere, everybody will just think we’re reenactors or gamers, or something.”

  “Where are we leaving from?” Jason scowled in confusion so Beverley tried again. “I mean, where is Merlin going to open the time door thing?”

  Since Jason had no answer, he excused himself and went to look for Merlin, who he found back in his workshop, standing on a low stool, whistling tunelessly and hanging clusters of fresh, sweet smelling herbs from the rafters.

  “I’ve been thinking about that very thing. Obviously I have to go to the Hellfire caves, but I can’t do that now because it’s still in Saxon territory.”

  “Right. No more adventures in Dark Age warfare, please.”

  “So I think the safest thing to do is just leave from here. We can sort out travel arrangements once we get to the twenty-first century. If you don’t mind I think I’ll accompany you back to York before I go the Hellfire Caves. There are a few things I want to pick up to bring back with me – books on improved brewing methods, books on how to distill whisky, books on pizza; I didn’t seem to get the sauce quite right. Things like that. Souvenirs. And, of course, I did promise to teach you how to improve your powers so that you could be a truly great wizard.” He grinned broadly and asked Jason to hand him another basket of herb cuttings.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know how that wizard thing is going to work, what with us being a couple thousand years apart.”

  “I can check through the scrolls at your flat to see that you have everything you need. You are now proficient in Latin so you should do fine on your own. And who knows, I may well drop in on you and Beverley now and again just to see how you’re doing. That is, if you wouldn’t mind having me visit.”

  “We’d love to have you come to York for a while; you know that. Stay as long as you like. Any time you want.” Jason seemed unsure of something, creasing his brow in confusion. “I don’t think I understand what you mean by ‘sorting out travel arrangements’. Why do we need to travel? I mean, when we came here we left from our flat and landed in a field just a few miles away. Can’t you just reverse that?”

  “Ah. That. The fact is, I’m still a little rough around the edges with this time travel thing and there are so many buildings and obstacles in your time. I wouldn’t want us to appear inside of a wall, or cut in half by a shop window or something. I think the safest thing is to move through time but stay in a location where we know there won’t be any buildings in the twenty-first century.” Turning to look over his shoulder, he stared down at Jason. “Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, sure, I guess. So where should we leave from?”

  “You know the area around Baenin as it appears in your own time. You did say you spent months excavating here. Where can we find an open field?”

  “That shouldn’t be hard. Barbury Castle – Arthur’s new town in the old hill fort – is mostly surrounded by open fields. And it’s only a two mile walk into Swindon and Bev and I can pick up some new clothes there and then we can catch the train for York.”

  And so it was agreed. Early in the morning of September first, in the year 486 AD, Jason and Beverley Carpenter and their friend Merlin, all stood in the middle of an open field a few hundred feet north of Arthur’s old Roman villa and twice as far to the east of the ancient hill fort. Jason and Beverley stood silently, staring at the dilapidated Roman complex and the clean, sleek new wooden palisades surrounding the tiny town that would be the new capital of this small, primitive kingdom. They had said their goodbyes the night before; Beverley, the queen and the ladies had hugged each other and cried and the king had reaffirmed his offer that they were both welcome to return at any time. Now there was nothing left to be said. Nothing left to do but return to their own world. Beverly wept a few silent tears and Jason pulled her close to his side, kissing her cheek.

  “And you think this field is a safe place?” Merlin lifted his face to the morning sun, surveying his surroundings, the gentle late-summer breeze blowing his long white hair behind him like the sails of some great, proud schooner venturing off into the unknown.

  “In our time it’s only used to cultivate sugar beets and I had a ground-sounding radar survey done here before I started excavating the villa, and there wasn’t any evidence that anything had ever been built here.”

  “Good.”

  The wizard raised his arms, the fingers of one hand scribing invisible symbols and runes in the air as he repeated a string of unintelligible incantations, just as he had done in their apartment months earlier. Watching him, Beverley silently promised herself that this was how she would always remember him, proud, strong and self-confident, in his own time period, performing feats of magic that no other man in history had achieved. After long minutes Merlin dropped his hands to his side, turned and smiled.

  “All done. I’m ready when you are.”

  “You ready, Babe?”

  Beverley let out a long, ragged sigh. “I guess. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Merlin extended an inviting hand that disappeared into the invisible doorway leading through the passages of time, back into their own world. Jason took Beverley’s hand, smiled grimly and stepped through the gate, pulling her along, half a step behind him. When she disappeared, Merlin hurried through, drawing the door closed after him.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Mummy, Mummy. Look, Mummy, it’s Merlin man.”

  The woman bounced the shouting child in her arms, trying to get a firm grip on her. The woman looked over her shoulder, smiled and nodded to Merlin, Jason and Beverley while simultaneously attempting to corral two small boys who were gleefully beating each other over the head with bright plastic swords.

  Jason, Beverley and Merlin stared at each other before pivoting their heads, taking in their surroundings. Around them were row upon row of cars nearly filling a huge gravel parking area sprawled across ten or more acres.

  “I don’t think this is the right pla
ce; it’s sure not a sugar beet field.”

  Scowling, Merlin tugged at the end of his mustache. “I’m certain this is the right place. How did that child know who I…”

  He was cut off in mid-sentence by Beverley tugging gently at his sleeve. “Lads, I think you should see this.”

  As one, Jason and Merlin turned to follow Beverley’s finger. There, right where it should have been, stood the Iron Age hill fort. But rather than the quiet, grass covered historic site it had been when Jason and Beverley conducted their archaeological dig there, it looked more like it had when it served as Arthur’s new capital. Around the ancient perimeter trench stood a twenty foot high stockade fence and at the main access point a wooden gatehouse guarded the entry ramp; a ramp swarming with men, women and children, laughing and talking as they streamed into, and out of, the fort. Near one side of the gatehouse stood a low, modern building, the side of which was emblazoned with a brightly painted sign reading: Old Baenin Visitors’ Centre.

  “Well that’s not right.” Jason was staring, blinking his eyes, as though he thought that if he could adjust his vision properly the world would correct itself.

  “Looks like we changed a few things.” A small frown creased Beverley’s forehead as she shook her head in wonder.

  Merlin smiled approvingly. “At least they know Arthur was real.”

  Standing in the middle of the car park, each offering their thoughts on how their activities might have impacted the twenty-first century, they were taken completely by surprise when a sleek shuttle bus pulled up next to them. The driver opened the doors, leaned forward and smiled.

  “You lot need a lift into town? Free service for park employees.”

  Before stepping aboard, the trio stared at the gaudy decoration on the side of the bus. Wedged between portraits of a smiling man in a jewel-encrusted crown and an elderly figure with long hair, a flowing beard and sporting a tall, pointed hat emblazoned with stars and moons were the words: Old Baenin ~ King Arthur’s World. Beneath this were a website address and a telephone number.

  “Oh, God. What have we done?” Jason closed his eyes, shook his head and hoisted himself up the two steps leading to the glaring, hard-surfaced interior of the shuttle. As Merlin followed him up the steps the driver’s face lit up.

  “Oy. You must be the new Merlin. I heard the old one retired and they was lookin’ fer a new one.” Leaning forward, he studied the wizard’s face intently before continuing. “Crikey, that beard’s real. Good on you lad. That’ll go down a treat with the nippers.”

  Jason eased himself onto the stiff plastic seat and lowered his face into up-turned palms. “This is like some Twilight Zone thing where everything is the same but it’s all different.”

  While Jason was lost in morose thought, Beverley stepped to the front of the bus and leaned over the driver’s shoulder. “Would you mind letting us off at the rail station?”

  “No worries, miss.” Pulling the door lever and releasing the emergency brake, the driver slid the little bus into gear.

  During the three months of their dig at what was then called Barbury Castle, Jason and Beverley came to know Swindon fairly well. It was, after all, the nearest town to their campsite and they relied on it for both necessities and entertainment. Now, just over one year since their last visit – or slightly more than three thousand years, if you counted time travel back and forth – it looked much as it had during their previous visits. The people looked and dressed the same as they had; the cars looked the same and their manufacturer names were all familiar: Honda, Ford, Mini Cooper, Nissan, Excalibur…well, most of the names. Like the cars, most things were familiar but there were subtle differences. The bank name on the cash machine from which Merlin extracted money was unfamiliar, as was the face on the bank notes. At least the notes still said Pounds Sterling so their values were familiar. The sign on the train station was different, too. It no longer said Swindon; instead it read Baenin.

  As they walked into the station and headed toward the ticket window, Beverley casually glanced up at the big map showing the country’s network of rail lines and the towns and cities they connected. “Ummm, you lads need to come here.” She tried to sound casual but the tight edge to her voice made Jason jerk to a halt. He and Merlin followed the line of her eyes and stared at the map. The shape of the British Isles was just as it should be and the red and blue lines of the British Rail System looked right, as did the locations of the major cities. It was just that the names were completely, disturbingly wrong. As is true of anyone looking at a map of Great Britain, their eyes automatically went first to London; or at least to the place where London should be. The great metropolis was still there, and dozens of rail line converged toward its center, indicating that it was still the thriving heart of the nation, but its name was now Lunnen.

  The small smile creeping across Merlin’s lips was hidden by his mustache, but the satisfaction was obvious in his voice. “Ah, yes, that would be Welsh.”

  “Wait. I don’t understand. If things have Welsh names, why is everybody speaking English?”

  Merlin pondered Jason’s question for a long minute before answering. “The English you know is based in Anglo-Saxon German with a smattering of the Welsh used by the Britons and some Norman French thrown in. At a guess, I would say that somehow Anglo-Saxon became the predominant language but that the political structure of the Britons remained in place.”

  “Do you suppose there was a Norman invasion in 1066?”

  Beverley pointed to the upper reaches of the map. “I don’t know about that, but I know the Vikings never got a foothold.”

  “What makes you say that?” Confused, Jason’s eyes roamed aimlessly across the map.

  “Look at York.”

  Where the familiar name of their city should have been was the word Eborācum.

  Merlin scowled. “That’s certainly not Welsh. In Welsh it would be Caer Ebrauc.”

  “It’s Latin.” Beverley shook her head. “Eborācum is what the Romans called York. The Vikings called it Jorvik, but since the name never changed, that means the Vikings never settled in England.”

  Jason stepped around Merlin, putting an arm around Beverley’s shoulder. Drawing her close he spoke quietly into her ear. “I think the big question is; is this still England?”

  Despite their fears, and the possibility of overwhelming changes, the trip back to York – now Eborācum – was gloriously uneventful. The landscape looked the same as it always had; small green fields filled with fluffy white sheep were still surrounded by neat stone walls. In the distance they watched as villages and towns swept past their window, while in the space between rail track and towns rows of cars ploughed across the landscape on four and six lane motorways. The conversations of the other passengers on the train sounded familiar and even reassuring; the weather was lovely today but would almost certainly turn dreadful, someone’s niece had a baby, the stock market was down and the price of houses was going up. It was not until Merlin picked up an abandoned newspaper that the trio had their first inkling of just how different the world had become. The masthead was familiar: Daily Mail, but the headline heralded strange details in the article to follow. It read: ‘King visits FPNA; meets with MPs’. So where was Queen Elizabeth and what was an FNPA?

  According to the text, Briton – rather than the familiar terms Great Britain or the United Kingdom – was ruled by King Edgar IX who was currently on a state visit to the Federated Provinces of North America where he was leading celebrations marking four hundred years of Britano-American unity. The article went on to explain that the king was currently in the FPNA capital, located in New Eborācum, holding meetings with local Members of Parliament from all twenty nine provinces. Later in the week he would attend a series of public celebrations and private events marking the occasion. In addition to photos of a smiling man with a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee shaking hands with a group of men and women there was a convenient map of the FPNA which appeared to include both t
he United States and Canada. The whole thing left Jason and Beverley with a very queasy feeling in their stomachs.

  As Jason silently folded the newspaper and slipped it between his thigh and the seat’s armrest, Beverley allowed a huge sigh to escape.

  “I just had a weird thought, Jase.”

  “Weirder than the rest of this?”

  “Maybe.” Beverley nodded as though she were in a trance.

  Her husband’s response sounded vague and dreamy. “Ok. I’ll bite. What is it?”

  “Well,” Beverley rearranged herself in the seat, resting her weight on one armrest; “if Arthur and his kingdom are as well-known as they seem to be, then the whole Dark Ages, as we understand them, didn’t happen.”

  Jason folded his hands in his lap and smiled a tight, constipated-looking grin. “I’m not going to like where this is going, am I?”

  “Probably not.” After a long, awkward silence Beverley continued with her train of thought. “I was just wondering, since our archaeological specialty is the Dark Ages; do you think we still have careers?”

  Oddly calm and composed, Jason blinked several times before speaking. “I hadn’t thought of that. I think I was too busy wondering if we even exist in this timeline.” Merlin coughed gently, clearing his throat. Jason raised his eyes and looked at the old wizard. “You had something to offer?”

  “I just wanted to remind you that in case archaeology is no longer a viable option, I do know place where you both have standing job offers. You could make a real difference.”

  Jason’s response was delivered in a soft, flat voice but it had a very hard, sharp edge to it. “This really isn’t the time.”

  The remainder of the trip was suspended in a bubble of awkward silence. Everyone was uncomfortable and both Jason and Beverley were seriously worried. When Beverley spoke it was usually to mumble something about her parents and her brother Johnathan. Jason sat in almost complete, stony silence and Merlin discovered that the concession car sold small, individual bottles of wine.