Legacy: Arthurian Saga (61 page)

I found him halfway up from the beach,
lying face downwards within an inch of the edge. One arm hung over
the brink, and at the end of it the limp hand swung to the shocks
of air disturbed by the waves. The other hand seemed to have
stiffened, hooked to a piece of rock. The fingers were black with
dried blood.

The path was just wide enough. Somehow
I turned him over, pulling and shifting him as best I could till he
was lying close against the cliff. I knelt between him and the
sea.

"Cadal. Cadal."

His flesh was cold. In the
near-darkness I could see that there was blood on his face, and
what looked like thick ooze from some wound up near the hair. I put
my hand to it; it was a cut, but not enough to kill. I tried to
feel the heartbeat in his wrist, but my numbed hand kept slipping
on the wet flesh and I could feel nothing. I pulled at his soaked
tunic and could not get it open, then a clasp gave way and it tore
apart, laying the chest bare.

When I saw what the cloth had hidden I
knew there was no need to feel for his heart. I pulled the sodden
cloth back over him, as if it could warm him, and sat back on my
heels, only then attending to the fact that men were coming down
the path from the castle.

Uther came round the cliff as easily
as if he were walking across his palace floor. His sword was ready
in his hand, the long cloak gathered over his left arm. Ulfin,
looking like a ghost, came after him.

The King stood over me, and for some
moments he did not speak. Then all he said was: "Dead?"

"Yes."

"And Jordan ?"

"Dead too, I imagine, or Cadal would
not have got this far to warn us."

"And Brithael?"

"Dead."

"Did you know all this before we came
tonight?"

"No," I said.

"Nor of Gorlois' death?"

"No."

"If you were a prophet as you claim to
be, you would have known." His voice was thin and bitter. I looked
up. His face was calm, the fever gone, but his eyes, slaty in the
grey light, were bleak and weary. I said briefly: "I told you. I
had to take the time on trust. This was the time. We
succeeded."

"And if we had waited until tomorrow,
these men, aye, and your servant here as well, would still be
living, and Gorlois dead and his lady a widow...And mine to claim
without these deaths and whisperings."

"But tomorrow you would have begotten
a different child."

"A legitimate child," he said
swiftly.

"Not a bastard such as we have made
between us tonight. By the head of Mithras, do you truly think my
name and hers can withstand this night's work? Even if we marry
within the week, you know what men will say. That I am Gorlois'
murderer. And there are men who will go on believing that she was
in truth pregnant by him as she told them, and that the child is
his."

"They will not say this. There is not
a man who will doubt that he is yours, Uther, and rightwise King
born of all Britain."

He made a short sound, not a laugh,
but it held both amusement and contempt. "Do you think I shall ever
listen to you again? I see now what your magic is, this 'power' you
talk of...It is nothing but human trickery, an attempt at
statecraft which my brother taught you to like and to play for and
to believe was your mystery. It is trickery to promise men what
they desire, to let them think you have the power to give it, but
to keep the price secret, and then leave them to pay."

"It is God who keeps the price secret,
Uther, not I."

"God? God? What god? I have heard you
speak of so many gods. If you mean Mithras --"

"Mithras, Apollo, Arthur, Christ --
call him what you will," I said. "What does it matter what men call
the light? It is the same light, and men must live by it or die. I
only know that God is the source of all the light which has lit the
world, and that his purpose runs through the world and past each
one of us like a great river, and we cannot check or turn it, but
can only drink from it while living, and commit our bodies to it
when we die."

The blood was running from my mouth
again. I put up my sleeve to wipe it away. He saw, but his face
never changed. I doubt if he had even listened to what I said, or
if he could have heard me for the thunder of the sea. He said
merely, with that same indifference that stood like a wall between
us: "These are only words. You use even God to gain your ends. 'It
is God who tells me to do these things, it is God who exacts the
price, it is God who sees that others should pay...' For what,
Merlin? For your ambition? For the great prophet and magician of
whom men speak with bated breath and give more worship than they
would a king or his high priest? And who is it pays this debt to
God for carrying out your plans? Not you. The men who play your
game for you, and pay the price. Ambrosius. Vortigern. Gorlois.
These other men here tonight. But you pay nothing. Never
you."

A wave crashed beside us and the spume
showered the ledge, raining down on Cadal's upturned face. I leaned
over and wiped it away, with some of the blood. "No," I said. Uther
said, above me: "I tell you, Merlin, you shall not use me. I'll no
longer be a puppet for you to pull the strings. So keep away from
me. And I'll tell you this also. I'll not acknowledge the bastard I
begot tonight."

It was a king speaking, unanswerable.
A still, cold figure, with behind his shoulder the star hanging
clear in the grey. I said nothing. "You hear me?"

"Yes." He shifted the cloak from his
arm, and flung it to Ulfin, who held it for him to put on. He
settled it to his shoulders, then looked down at me again. "For
what service you have rendered, you shall keep the land I gave you.
Get back, then, to your Welsh mountains, and trouble me no
more."

I said wearily: "I shall not trouble
you again, Uther. You will not need me again." He was silent for a
moment. Then he said abruptly: "Ulfin will help you carry the body
down." I turned away. "There is no need. Leave me now." A pause,
filled with the thunder of the sea. I had not meant to speak so,
but I was past caring, or even knowing, what I said. I only wanted
him gone. His sword-point was level with my eyes. I saw it shift
and shimmer, and thought for a moment that he was angry enough to
use it. Then it flashed up and was rammed home in its housings. He
swung round and went on his way down the path. Ulfin edged quietly
past without a word, and followed his master. Before they had
reached the next corner the sea had obliterated the sound of their
footsteps. I turned to find Cadal watching me. "Cadal!"

"That's a king for you." His voice was
faint, but it was his own, rough and amused.

"Give him something he swears he's
dying for, and then, 'Do you think I can withstand this night's
work?' says he. A fine old night's work he's put in, for sure, and
looks it."

"Cadal --"

"You, too. You're hurt...your hand?
Blood on your face?"

"It's nothing. Nothing that won't
mend. Never mind that. But you -- oh, Cadal --" He moved his head
slightly. "It's no use. Let be. I'm comfortable enough."

"No pain now?"

"No. It's cold, though."

I moved closer to him, trying to
shield his body with my own from the bursting spray as the waves
struck the rock. I took his hand in my own good one. I could not
chafe it, but pulled my tunic open and held it there against my
breast. "I'm afraid I lost my cloak," I said. "Jordan's dead,
then?"

"Yes." He waited for a moment. "What
-- happened up yonder?"

"It all went as we had planned. But
Gorlois attacked out of Dimilioc and got himself killed. That's why
Brithael and Jordan rode this way, to tell the Duchess."

"I heard them coming. I knew they'd be
bound to see me and the horses. I had to stop them giving the alarm
while the King was still..." He paused for breath.

"Don't trouble," I said. "It's done
with, and all's well."

He took no notice. His voice was the
merest whisper now, but clear and thin, and I heard every word
through the raging of the sea.

"So I mounted and rode up a bit of the
way to meet them the other side of the water...then when they came
level I jumped the stream and tried to stop them." He waited for a
moment. "But Brithael...that's a fighter, now. Quick as a snake.
Never hesitated. Sword straight into me and then rode over me. Left
me for Jordan to finish."

"His mistake."

His cheek-muscles moved slightly. It
was a smile. After a while he asked: "Did he see the horses after
all?"

"No. Ralf was at the gate when he
came, and Brithael just asked if anyone had been up to the castle,
because he'd met a horseman below. When Ralf said no he accepted
it. We let him in, and then killed him."

"Uther." It was an assumption, not a
question. His eyes were closed.

"No. Uther was still with the Duchess.
I couldn't risk Brithael taking him unarmed. He would have killed
her, too."

The eyes flared open, momentarily
clear and startled. "You?"

"Come, Cadal, you hardly flatter me."
I gave him a grin.

"Though I'd have done you no credit,
I'm afraid. It was a very dirty fight. The King wouldn't even know
the rules. I invented them as I went along."

This time it really was a smile.
"Merlin...little Merlin, that couldn't even sit a horse...You kill
me."

The tide must be on the turn. The next
wave that thundered up sent only the finest spray which fell on my
shoulders like mist. I said: "I have killed you, Cadal."

"The gods..." he said, and drew a
great, sighing breath. I knew what that meant. He was running out
of time. As the light grew I could see how much of his blood had
soaked into the soaking path. "I heard what the King said. Could it
not have happened without...all this?"

"No, Cadal."

His eyes shut for a moment, then
opened again. "Well," was all he said, but in the syllable was all
the acquiescent faith of the past eight years. His eyes were
showing white now below the pupil, and his jaw was slack. I put my
good arm under him and raised him a little. I spoke quickly and
clearly: "It will happen, Cadal, as my father wished and as God
willed through me. You heard what Uther said about the child. That
alters nothing. Because of this night's work Ygraine will bear the
child, and because of this night's work she will send him away as
soon as he is born, out of the King's sight. She will send him to
me, and I shall take him out of the King's reach, and keep him and
teach him all that Galapas taught me, and Ambrosius, and you, even
Belasius. He will be the sum of all our lives, and when he is grown
he will come back and be crowned King at Winchester."

"You know this? You promise me that
you know this?" The words were scarcely recognizable. The breath
was coming now in bubbling gasps. His eyes were small and white and
blind.

I lifted him and held him strongly
against me. I said, gently and very clearly: "I know this. I,
Merlin, prince and prophet, promise you this, Cadal."

His head fell sideways against me, too
heavy for him now as the muscles went out of control. His eyes had
gone. He made some small muttering sound and then, suddenly and
clearly, he said, "Make the sign for me," and died.

I gave him to the sea, with Brithael
who had killed him. The tide would take him, Ralf had said, and
carry him away as far as the western stars.

Apart from the slow clop of hoofs, and
the jingle of metal, there was no sound in the valley. The storm
had died. There was no wind, and when I had ridden beyond the first
bend of the stream, I lost even the sound of the sea. Down beside
me, along the stream, mist hung still, like a veil. Above, the sky
was clear, growing pale towards sunrise. Still in the sky, high now
and steady, hung the star.

But while I watched it the pale sky
grew brighter round it, flooding it with gold and soft fire, and
then with a bursting wave of brilliant light, as up over the land
where the herald star had hung, rose the young sun.

T
HE
LEGEND OF MERLIN

Vortigern, King of Britain, wishing to
build a fortress in Snowdon, called together masons from many
countries, bidding them build a strong tower. But what the
stonemasons built each day collapsed each night and was swallowed
up by the soil. So Vortigern held council with his wizards, who
told him that he must search for a lad who never had a father, and
when he had found him should slay him and sprinkle his blood over
the foundations, to make the tower hold firm. Vortigern sent
messengers into all the provinces to look for such a lad, and
eventually they came to the city that was afterwards called
Carmarthen. There they saw some lads playing before the gate, and
being tired, sat down to watch the game. At last, towards evening,
a sudden quarrel sprang up between a couple of youths whose names
were Merlin and Dinabutius. During the quarrel Dinabutius was heard
to say to Merlin: "What a fool must thou be to think thou art a
match for me! Here am I, born of the blood royal, but no one knows
what thou art, for never a father hadst thou!" When the messengers
heard this they asked the bystanders who Merlin might be, and were
told that none knew his father, but that his mother was daughter of
the King of South Wales, and that she lived along with the nuns in
St. Peter's Church in that same city.