Legacy: Arthurian Saga (180 page)

I had no means of knowing when Arthur
was expected home, and if I had to stay in hiding until he came,
Morgause would probably be able to reach him before I did. What I
was hoping for, as I traveled south so closely in her wake, was
that I could somehow reach Nimue. I had faced what might be the
result of that. A return from the dead is rarely a success. It was
very possible that she might herself want to stop me from reaching
Arthur again, and reclaiming my place in his affection and his
service. But she had my power. The grail was for the future, and
the future was hers. Warn her I must, that another witch was on the
way. The rape of Macsen's treasure had sounded some note of danger
which I could not ignore.

To my relief my ship passed the mouth
of the estuary that led to the Island's harbor, and held on up into
the narrowing Severn Channel. We put in at length at a small wharf
at the mouth of the Frome River, from which there is a good road
leading straight to Aquae Sulis in the Summer Country. I had paid
my passage this time with one of the jewels from my grave-clothes,
and with the change from this I bought myself a good horse, filled
the saddlebags with food and a change of clothing, and set off at
once along the road toward the city.

Except in those places where I was
very well known, I thought there was small chance now of my being
recognized. I had grown thinner since my entombment, my hair was
now quite grey, and I had not shaved my beard. For all that, I
planned to skirt towns and villages if I could, and lie at country
taverns. I could not lie out; the weather was turning colder every
day, and, not much to my surprise, I found the ride exhausting. By
the evening of the first day I was very ready to rest, and put up
thankfully at a small, decent-looking tavern still four or five
miles short of Aquae Sulis.

Before I even asked for food, I sought
news, and was told that Arthur was home, and at Camelot. When I
spoke of Nimue they answered readily, but more vaguely. "Merlin's
lady," they called her, "the King's enchantress," and elaborated
with one or two fanciful tales, but they were not sure of her
movements. One man said she was in Camelot with the King, but
another was sure she had left the place a month back; there had
been, he said, some trouble in Rheged; some tale about Queen
Morgan, and the King's great sword.

So Nimue, it seemed, was out of touch;
and Arthur was home. Even if Morgause did land on the Island, she
might not hasten straight to confront the King. If I made all
haste, I might reach him before she did. I hurried with my meal,
then paid my shot, had them saddle up once more, and took again to
the road. Though I was tired, I had come a scant ten miles, and my
good horse was still fresh. If I did not press him, I knew that he
could go all night.

There was a moon, and the road was in
repair, so we made good time, reaching Aquae Sulis well before
midnight. The gates were locked, so I skirted the walls. I was
stopped twice, once by a gate guard calling to know my business,
and once by a troop of soldiers wearing Melwas' badge. Each time I
showed my brooch with its Dragon jewel, and said curtly, "King's
business," and each time the brooch, or my assurance, told, and
they let me by. A mile or so after that the road forked, and I
turned south by southeast.

The sun came up, small and red in an
icy sky. Ahead, the road led straight across the bleak hill land,
where the limestone shows white as bone, and the trees are all
racked northeastward away from the gales. My horse dropped to a
walk, then to a plod. Myself, I was riding in a dream, gone in
exhaustion beyond either stiffness or soreness. Out of mercy to
both weary animals, I drew rein by the next water-trough we passed,
tossed hay down from the net that hung at the saddle bow, and
myself sat down on the trough's edge and took out my breakfast of
raisins and black bread and mead.

The light broadened, flashing on the
frosty grass. It was very cold. I broke the cat-ice on the trough,
and laved my face and hands. It refreshed me, but made me shiver.
If the horse and I were to stay alive we must soon move on.
Presently I bitted up again, and led him to where I might mount
from the edge of the trough. The horse threw up his head and
pricked his ears, and then I heard it, too; hoofs approaching from
the direction of the city, and at a fast gallop. Someone who had
left the city as soon as the gates had opened, and was coming in a
hurry, on a fresh horse.

He came in sight: a young man riding
hard, on a big blue roan. When he was a hundred paces off, I
recognized the insignia of the royal courier, and, clambering
stiffly down from the trough's edge, moved into the road and held
up a hand.

He would not have stopped for me, but
here the road was edged on the one side by a low ridge of rock, and
the other by a steep drop, with the trough blocking the narrow
verge. And I had turned my horse so that he stood across the
way.

The rider drew rein, holding the
restless roan, and saying impatiently: "What is it? If you're fain
for company, my good man, I can't provide it. Can't you see who I
am?"

"A King's messenger. Yes. Where are
you bound?"

"Camelot." He was young, with russet
hair and a high color, and (as his kind have) a kind of prideful
arrogance in his calling. But he spoke civilly enough. "The King's
there, and I must be there myself tomorrow. What is it, old man, is
your horse gone lame? Your best plan is --"

"No. I shall manage. Thank you. I
would not have stopped you for a triviality, but this is important.
I want you to take a message for me, please. It is to go to the
King."

He stared, then laughed, his breath
like a cloud on the icy air. "For the King, he says! Good sir,
forgive me, but a King's messenger has better things to do than
take tales from every passer-by. If it's a petition, then I suggest
you trot back to Caerleon yourself. The King's to be there for
Christmas, and you might get there in time, if you hurry." His
heels moved as if he would set spurs to his horse, and ride on. "So
by your leave, stand aside and let me by."

I did not move. I said quietly: "You
would do well to listen, I think."

He swung back, angry now, and shook
his whip free. I thought he would ride over me. Then he met my
eyes. He bit back what he had been going to say. The roan,
anticipating the whip, bounded forward, and was curbed sharply. It
subsided, fretting, its breath puffing white like a dragon's. The
man cleared his throat, looked me up and down doubtfully, then
fixed his eyes on my face again. I saw his doubt growing. He made a
concession and a face-saver at the same time.

"Well -- sir -- I can listen. And be
sure I'll take any message that seems up to my weight. But we're
not supposed to act as common carriers, and I have a schedule to
keep."

"I know. I would not trouble you,
except that it is urgent that I reach the King, and as you have
pointed out, you will get there rather more quickly than I. The
message is this: that you met an old man on the road who gave you a
token, and told you that he is on his way to Camelot to see the
King. But he can only make his way slowly, so if the King wishes to
see him he must come to him by the way. Tell him which road I am
taking, and say that I paid you with the ferryman's guerdon. Repeat
it, please."

These men are practiced at remembering
word for word. Often the messages they take are from men who cannot
write. He began to obey me, without thought: "I met an old man on
the road who gave me a token, and told me that he is on his way to
Camelot to see the King. But he can only make his way slowly so if
the King wishes to see him, he must -- Hey, now, what sort of a
message is that? Are you out of your mind? The way you put it, it
sounds as if you're sending for the King, just like
that."

I smiled. "I suppose it does. Perhaps
I might phrase it better, if it will make a more comfortable
message to deliver? In any case, I suggest you deliver it in
private."

"I'll say it had better be in private!
Look, I don't know who you are, sir -- and it's my guess you're
somebody, in spite of, well, not looking it -- but by the god of
going, it had better be a powerful token, and a good guerdon, too,
if I'm to take a summons to King Arthur, however
privately."

"Oh, it is." I had wrapped my Dragon
brooch in linen, and fastened it into a small package. I handed him
this, and with it the second of the gold coins that had sealed my
eyelids in the tomb. He stared at the gold coin, then at me, then
turned the package over in his hand, eyeing it. He said doubtfully:
"What's in it?"

"Only the token I spoke of. And let me
repeat, this is important, and it's urgent that you should give it
to the King in private. If Bedwyr is there with him, no matter, but
no other person. Do you understand?"

"Ye-es, but..." With a movement of
knees and wrist he wheeled the roan horse half away from me, and
with another movement too fast for me to prevent, he broke open the
package. My brooch, with the royal Dragon glinting on the gold
ground, fell into his hand. "This? This is the royal
cypher."

"Yes."

He said, abruptly: "Who are
you?"

"I am the King's cousin. So have no
fear of delivering the message."

"The King has no cousin, other than
Hoel of Brittany. And Hoel doesn't rate the Dragon. Only the..."
His voice trailed away. I saw the blood begin to drain from his
face.

"The King will know who I am," I said.
"Don't think I blame you for doubting me, or for opening the
package. The King is well served. I shall tell him so."

"You're Merlin." It came out in a
whisper. He had to lick his lips and try twice before he could make
a sound.

"Yes. Now you see why you must see the
King alone. It will be a shock to him, too. Don't be afraid of
me."

"But...Merlin died and was buried." He
was perfectly white now. The reins ran slack through his fingers,
and the roan, deciding to take advantage of the respite, lowered
its head and began to graze.

I said quickly: "Don't drop the
brooch. Look, man, I'm no ghost. It is not every grave that is the
gate of death."

I had meant that as a reassurance, but
he went, if possible, more ashen than before, "My lord, we
thought...Everybody knew..."

"It was thought that I had died, yes."
I spoke briskly, keeping it matter-of-fact. "But all that happened
was that I fell into a sickness like death, and I recovered. That
is all. Now I am well, and will re-enter the King's service...but
secretly. No one must know until the King himself has had the news,
and spoken with me. I would have told no one but one of the King's
own couriers. Do you understand?"

This had the effect, as I had hoped,
of bringing back his self-assurance. The red came back into his
cheeks, and he straightened his back. "Yes, my lord. The King will
be -- very happy, my lord. When you died -- that is, when you --
well, when it happened, he shut himself up alone for three days,
and would speak to no one, not even to Prince Bedwyr. Or so they
say."

His voice came back to normal while he
was speaking, warming, I could see, with pleasurable excitement at
the thought of the good news he would have to carry to the King.
Gold was the least of it. As he came to an end of telling me how
Merlin had been missed and mourned "the length and breadth of the
kingdom, I promise you, sir," he pulled the roan's head up from the
frosty grass, and set it dancing. The color was back bright in his
face, and he looked excited and eager. "Then I'll be on my
way."

"When do you expect to reach
Camelot?"

"Tomorrow noon, with good fortune, and
a good change of horses. More probably, tomorrow at lamp-lighting.
You couldn't give my horse a pair of wings while you're about it,
could you?"

I laughed. "I should have to recover a
little further before I could manage that. One moment more, before
you go...There's another message that should go straight to the
King. Perhaps you bear it already? Did you get any news in Aquae
Sulis of the Queen of Orkney? I heard that she was traveling south
by ship to Ynys Witrin, no doubt on her way to court."

"Yes, it's true. She's arrived.
Landed, I mean, and on her way now to Camelot. There were those who
said she wouldn't obey the summons --"

"Summons? Do you mean that the High
King sent for her?"

"Yes, sir. That's common knowledge, so
I'm not talking out of turn. As a matter of fact I won a small
wager on it. They were saying she wouldn't come, even with the
safe-conduct for the boys. I said she would. With Tydwal sitting
tight in Lot's other castle, and Arthur's sworn man, where could
she look for refuge if the High King chose to smoke her
out?"

"Where, indeed?" I said it absently,
almost blankly. This I had not foreseen, and could not understand.
"Forgive me for detaining you, but I have been a long time without
news. Can you tell me why the High King should summon her -- and
apparently under threat?"

He opened his lips, shut them again,
then, obviously deciding that telling the King's cousin and
erstwhile chief adviser was no breach of his code, nodded. "I
understand it's a matter of the boys, sir. One in particular, the
eldest of the five. The queen was to bring them all to
Camelot."