His thoughts, usually now so carefully cloaked, let one word escape: Nimüe?
Falcon chose that moment to cry out, “Mama!” His heavy cough reverberated through the house.
It was getting worse, else he would have called for his father.
“Your son has the cough. I will likely be up with him this night. Think on my words, and we will speak of it in the morning.”
As I had known, Falcon’s illness kept me awake and tending to the boy the night through. As the sun was just rising over the edge of the Tor, I finally was able to make my way to bed. It had not been slept in. I laid down, too weary to go down to his study.
As I crawled under the sleeping rug, I heard the clatter of horses in the yard.
“Goddess, will I ever get him back?” I called out to the dawning day.
But She answered not.
Just as I was falling into a tear-filled sleep, I see this golden Nimüe sitting on a stool in the guestroom at Camelot; Morgaine is on a bench by the fire. It is so like my last meeting with the Lady of Avalon that at first, I am confused. But then, I see the girl is crying and begging Morgaine. I listen carefully.
Morgaine says, “You must do this for me, Nimüe. Only when the betrayer is dead can I know for certain you are true in your allegiances. Only then will I allow you to return to Avalon to serve me.” She slid her hand up along the girl’s thigh.
Nimüe sniffled. “It will be as you command, my Lady.”
And for just the briefest moment, I felt so sorry for that poor girl.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Just over a fortnight later, I awoke in the darkest night. The Storm Moon had yet to wax its crescent. I heard a chant. It echoed in my blood.
What was it?
I strained to make it out. What were the words?
So ancient. So dire.
I gasped and sat up. “No!”
I threw on my cloak and ran down the stairs. All I could hear in my mind was the terrible chant.
“No!” I pleaded with the Goddess. “No!”
I stumbled out into the forecourt. The dark night loomed over me, fiery stars twinkling fiercely above me.
The chant boomed so, I clamped my hands over my ears.
No!
The enchantment became so deafening, the very stars seemed to pulse with it.
In my mind’s eye, I saw a torch approach a great oak. There was a slit in the trunk through which I could just make out a bit of black robe and the end of a gray beard I knew so well. Sacred oil was poured on the tree, the slit, the robe … and then a torch was thrown on it!
The flames swirled round and round the trunk, as if a great fiery animal was licking its prey. The smoke was so thick, it was everywhere, clogging my nose and throat, stinging my eyes. It was like a putrid cloth, rammed down my mouth. I struggled but could not move my arms or legs. My heart thundered. I was gasping … strangling …
Nonononononononononoooo!
And then there was silence.
The vision evaporated.
I knew my beloved was gone.
“Goddess, what have you let them do?” I whispered.
I felt my body collapse to the stones.
I heard a high-pitched shriek, but I cared not what it meant.
A small body hurled itself on me. It sobbed and wailed.
Falcon.
He knew.
After a while, Droja and Fredic came and helped us back to bed. They were too familiar with strange happenings to ask what had occurred. The crying boy worried them, though, and Lota tried to take him from me. “No! He stays with me!” I pressed the weeping child to my heart. In truth, I did not think they could pry Falcon from me. I could feel him shaking. His little hands were wrapped around my neck so tightly that I could scarce breathe.
We saw the same thing.
The next day, a black-cloaked rider on a great ebony horse rode slowly into the courtyard. I was there to meet the courier. I had felt her approach a long way off. Falcon stood beside me, not like a little boy of five, but as a man who rules his manse. I was trying to be strong for him. If I were alone …
But I am not.
Fredic went to take the rider’s reins, but the courier waved him off. She untied a bundle from the saddle and held it out to me. I stepped forward and took it.
I knew without looking it was Merlin’s staff, broken.
The rider started to turn the horse.
“Hold,” I demanded in my priestess voice.
She stopped and turned back reluctantly.
My priestess voice boomed, “Tell your mistress, Morgaine of Avalon, that I call her kin-slayer and traitorous. Say to her that she is forsworn of her oaths. There will be a reckoning by me, and the cost will be dear.”
For the first time, I could see the visage of the courier. Short dark-brown hair framed a face lined with middle years. Her bark-brown eyes were wide with fear.
My voice returned to normal. “What of the Lady Nimüe?”
The courier seemed startled at my question. “She … she went mad. We could hear her shrieking even across the lake. They found her dead in the Sacred Circle. Poison, they said.”
I shivered. No doubt Morgaine used her for some dark rite and discarded the poor creature.
I grabbed the courier’s arm and pulled her down close to me. “Do you see how Morgaine honors her bargains? You will be next! If you wish to be free of her, on the first night of the crescent moon, sprinkle salt on a dish of freshly-drawn well water. Say, ‘I free myself of the false bonds placed upon me’ three times. Ride east to the coast. Take the first boat to Little Britain you can find.” A part of me would rather not tell her this. But, I could so easily have been made into this woman. I had to give her the chance.
“I cannot!” she said, eyes rimmed with tears.
“That is your choice. I have told you how to break away from her. Whether or not you do so, it is up to you.”
She jerked her arm out of my grasp, turned the horse, and rode out.
I wondered if the courier would deliver my message or escape Morgaine.
“Maybe,” Falcon said.
I stroked the little one’s red head. “The message or free herself?” I asked.
“She wars with herself. I cannot see her path clearly,” he said.
Somehow last night, I opened Falcon to the Goddess. I felt I had stolen his childhood from him. But there was nothing for it. The thing was done. Soon, I would have to begin his training.
I went into the house and put the broken staff on the mantle.
Later in the day, another rider came into the courtyard. I went out to meet Eoghann. His eyes were red, and his face swollen. “I tried to stop him from going out, Lady. He wouldn’t listen. I think Lady Nimüe had him ensorcelled. I saw the fire in my mind. He’s gone!”
Silently, I watched him untie an object from his saddle. He handed me the large harp in its red drape.
I took it from him and hugged it like an old friend. “Come, you must be tired from your travels.”
We went into the house, into the main hall. I placed the instrument on the table.
“Papa’s harp!” whispered Falcon.
I said to Eoghann, “I offer you freedom from your indenture. You served your master faithfully and well. You may live here and help me run the house and land or go where your fortune takes you.”
“Thank you, Lady. If it doesn’t seem too ungrateful, I think I’d like to go back home. There’s a girl there. If she hasn’t yet married. . .”
“Of course.” This burden is mine alone. I should have seen that. “You may stay here as long as you like before you head home.”
“I’ll leave in the morning, if it suits you,” he said.
I saw in his heart that he grieved almost as much as I. Staying would only make it worse. “I will give you some gold to start your new life before you depart.”
He looked surprised and pleased, despite his sorrow. “Thank you, Lady. You are most kind.”
&
nbsp; I asked Droja to fetch a knife. Falcon stood beside me, a grave look on his little face. Eoghann had not moved from his spot near the fire. Fredic came in, as if called. Droja returned with her children in tow. Lota followed, and then the maids and the kitchen helper.
I removed the covering from the great harp. Slowly, feeling as if I was mutilating a living thing, I cut each string. As I sliced the strand, the harp made a musical gasp, each note a weeping. It echoed throughout the house.
Everyone stood watching. I could feel their awe and terror. They wondered if I had gone mad.
When I was finished, I said in my priestess voice, “Lord Merlin is dead.”
Chapter Fifty
For the next few moons after Merlin’s death, I went through the motions of living. Autumn became winter with its cold and sickness. The flux hit the village so hard, I had Fredic take me out there in the wagon. I exhausted my herb supply in just three days. But I lost only five of the fifty I treated.
I put the pearl and gold necklace Merlin gave me back in its box and locked it away in the strong box, hidden in the cellar.
I would never wear it again in this life.
Falcon played and led Droja’s children in dancing and singing around the hall. If I did not know better, I would have thought the child had forgotten about his father. But many nights, he climbed into my bed, wanting to be held, his cheeks covered with tears. I hugged him to me the night through.
I began teaching Falcon the ways of power. He was a quick study and learned how to produce his first power flame—it was blue—within a month. A small part of me felt delighted in his awe of the power at his command. “One day, you will be the high priest. It is a great responsibility.”
Falcon tilted his head and looked off into the distance. “I don’t think I want to do that.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t seem like fun,” he said. “I’d rather play the lute.”
Indeed, he was quite talented on the small lute that Eoghann made and taught him to play when he was younger. He also knew a few tunes on the small harp that had been his father’s.
“Well, then, perhaps the way of the bard is your path. But until we know that for sure, I will keep teaching you the Goddess way.”
I took him to the Sacred Grove and showed him the rites and rituals. He was really too young to be part of them, but I felt the need to share this with him, before he forgot his father, utterly.
Falcon seemed more interested in making little people out of acorns and sticks and creating stories for them to act out.
I had not the heart to argue with the child and so resigned myself to being the last person who would serve the Goddess in Drunemeton’s Sacred Grove.
Just after Ostara, an older man with a staff appeared at the door. His hair and beard were white and long, but his back was straight and his walk steady. Although he had the violet lifeglow of a priest, it was dim and had a slightly gray cast to it, as if he were ill in spirit. I invited him in and had him sit by the fire. I could not imagine why he was there. But the rules of Britain demanded I offer hospitality to a traveler who called at the door.
Once he had something hot to drink and a bite to eat, I asked, “Stranger, what may I do for you? For I feel you are here on some sort of task.”
He barely smiled and inclined his head. “Merlin said you were quick. I am Cedric of Alewick. Perhaps Merlin spoke of me?”
I sat back, unsettled. “Yes, he made mention that your order of Druids was on the verge of collapse.” I recalled Merlin saying this man was so desperate, he threatened to go to war with King Arthur and his knights.
Thoughtfully, Cedric rested his hands on his gnarled-wood staff. “My group has disbanded. I’m head of no order.”
“I am sorry. I fear we must resign ourselves to the Christians leading the people and the land until the Goddess can re-assert Her Way.”
He nodded. “Merlin said this also. At first, I was furious. But now I understand anger is a poor response to our path forward.” Cedric produced a roll of parchment and handed it to me. “Merlin told me that if he died, I was to come and be your son’s tutor. Explain to him the way of the Druid. But also, to help you establish a place where Druid and Goddess worshipers may gather. Where we may keep the Goddess’s Way for that time in the future.”
I stared at the parchment. What is this?
“Please read it,” he said, and turned to the fire.
I slipped the leather tie off the scroll and examined the seal. It was Merlin’s, to be sure. I unrolled it and read in his familiar scrawling handwriting:
My Dear One,
I send this to you by way of Cedric. We spoke of him before. I have changed his path by asking him to be Falcon’s tutor and your helper. You will certainly need assistance in creating whatever is to come. He will be there to help. You may trust him. I have bound him with many oaths and some magick of which he is not aware. He will do your bidding.
I am sorry, dear one. So very sorry.
The night you plucked Nimüe’s hair from my cloak and told me what you saw was an important one. While you tended our son, I took up that hair and cast a spell to have it reveal the owner’s thoughts.
You are right. She does not care for me. Why should she? The only one who cares for me in this life is you. And Arthur, in his way.
Nimüe is a priestess of Avalon, pledged to serve Morgaine. She was to bedazzle and ensorcell me. She succeeded. Or would have, if not for your good sense. But now I understand my path.
I go now to my fate. Do not sorrow for me. I am old, and you would have had to put up with an increasingly doddering old husband. This way, we will part cleanly. I’m sorry to have kept you at a distance, but it was best. I could not have borne it, if we stayed close. I couldn’t share with you my fear and my determination to do what needs to be done.
I have spoken with Morgaine. She accepts my surrender and won’t pursue you or the boy. But the rules of Avalon are clear, and someone must atone for the loss of the Goddess chalice.
You did not cause this.
I know you were following what the Goddess instructed you to do when you conceived of the plan for the chalice. But there must be a sacrifice; that also, I feel. It cannot be you. You are the hope of the future. The Goddess chose you to build what is to come.
And then, there is our darling Falcon. You must be with him and instruct him in our ways.
Be sure I love you more than I can ever say, now and for all time,
Merlin
It felt as if my sorrowing heart had stopped. As if all the blood in my veins dried up.
But for appearances sake, I went on for a little longer. I called for Droja and told her that Cedric would be joining the household as Falcon’s tutor. Then I left the old man in Droja’s care.
Throwing a cloak over my shift, I went out into the frigid night, the letter still clutched in my hand.
I ran to the Sacred Grove and threw myself upon the altar.
“Why did you do this!?” I screamed to the cold night stars “Why!?”
I did not know who I was yelling at—the Goddess or Merlin. But it felt as if my beloved had died all over again. I could barely breathe for the agony in my heart. How could the Goddess have finally allowed me some happiness, only to snatch it away so cruelly?
All night, I laid fully clothed across the altar, clutching the cold, unyielding stone. Anger and sorrow raged in my mind. As dawn edged into the sky, I had one clear thought:
I do not know how, I do not know where, but Morgaine of Avalon will pay for this.
Chapter Fifty-One
Lady of Drunemeton
Spring 566
Executed!
Grief, sorrow, and anger seemed to swallow the sun and leach the heat from my life since Merlin’s death. It was all I could do to make it through each day. Every night, I prayed to die in my sleep. If it were not for Falcon, I would throw myself down the well.
But life went on, whether I wished it to or not.
>
Our son, Falcon, was flourishing under Cedric’s tutelage. The boy’s understanding of languages, history, philosophy, and mathematics seemed to grow daily. I allowed my houseman Fredic’s sons, Kelvan and Turi, and his daughter, Cinnia, to study with Cedric, as well. I promised Fredic and his wife, Droja, I would help their children acquire better occupations. It was little enough payment I could give to the loyal couple who had helped me so much.
But, the late afternoons were saved for Falcon alone with his tutor. Then, he was taught the ways of power. The boy attended better to Cedric than to me. However, Falcon still preferred to play the harp or the lute to anything else.
On full moon nights and high holy days, Cedric helped me celebrate the rites. He was careful to let me lead and only assisted where I allowed it. In ones and twos, we were joined by people who lived in the area: farmers, traders, merchants, a baker, single women, widows, and one lord from a village a league away. I was not sure how they found out about the Sacred Grove or the rites, but I welcomed each new member, man and woman, equally.
Llyr, assistant to Camelot’s physic, Pwyll, came often to Drunemeton, as I still made much of the herb potions and salves for the castle. He shared with us the goings and doings of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. The kingdom was quiet now, and so the most interesting tale was the love affair of a knight named Tristan of Cornwall and the Lady of Ireland, Isolde, who was the intended of King Mark of Cornwall. Droja, Cedric, and Lota listened to him raptly. I said I had no time for such gossip, but I admit I always sat in such a way I might overhear. It made a fine tale to write down—which I still did—although I had no real reason to keep at it.
Llyr said the castle was abuzz with the arrival of Mordred, the king’s bastard son. The young man was raised by Morgause, Lot’s wife, who was the king’s half-sister. There were rumors that Mordred’s mother was Morgaine, the king’s other half-sister and Lady of the Lake. Droja was scandalized by the very idea. Cedric just raised his wooly eyebrows and stared off into space.
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