Legacy: Arthurian Saga (74 page)

"It looks as if he expects to come
back to this side soon," said Ralf, who had been exploring.
"There's a fire in the hut, and he's left the door
open."

"Then we'll wait inside," I said.
"It's not likely the King's troops will set out before cock-crow. I
can't imagine his message to Caerleon is as urgent as that, or he'd
have sent a rider posting last night. See to the horses, then come
in and get some rest."

The ferryman's hut was empty, but the
remains of a fire still glowed in the ring of stones that served
for a hearth. There was a pile of dry kindling beside it, and
before long a comforting tongue of flame licked up through the wood
and set the turf glowing. Ralf was soon dozing in the warmth, while
I sat watching the flames and listening for the return of the
ferry.

But the sound that roused me was not
the sound of a keel grating on shingle; it was the soft and distant
thudding of a troop of horse coming at the canter.

Before my hand could reach Ralf's
shoulder to shake him awake, he was on his feet.

"Quick, my lord, if we ride fast along
the shingle -- the tide's not full yet --"

"No. They'd hear us, and in any case
the horses are too tired. How far away would you say they
were?"

He was at the door in two strides, his
head slanted, listening. "Half a mile. Less. They'll be here in a
few minutes. What are you going to do? We can't hide. They'll see
the horses, and the country's open as a map in the
sand."

This was true. The road down which the
horsemen were coming ran straight up from the shore to the head of
the ridge. To right and left of it lay the marshlands, glinting
with water, and white with mist. Behind us the estuary stretched
glimmering, throwing back the moonlight.

"What you can't run from, you must
face," I said. "No, not like that" -- as the boy's hand went to his
sword -- "not against King's men, and we wouldn't stand a chance
anyway. There's a better way. Get the bags, will you?"

I was already stripping off my stained
and ragged tunic. He threw me a doubtful look, but ran to obey.
"You won't get away with that doctor disguise again."

"I don't intend to try. When fate
forces your hand, Ralf, go with it. It looks as if I may get to see
the King sooner than I'd hoped to."

"Here? But you -- he -- the Queen
--"

"The Queen's secret will be safe. I've
been thinking how ' to deal with this if it happened. We'll let
them think we've just come south from Maridunum, hoping to see the
King,"

"But the ferryman? If they check with
him?"

"It could be awkward, but we'll have
to chance it. Why should they, after all? Even if they do, I can
deal with it. Men will believe anything of the King's enchanter,
Ralf, even that he could cross the estuary on a cloud, or ford it
knee high at floodtide."

While we were talking he had
unstrapped one of the saddlebags and pulled out of it the decent
dark robe and stitched doeskin boots I had worn for my interview
with the Queen, while I bent over the bucket of water by the door
and swilled the weariness of the journey and the stench of the
marshlander's hut off my face and hands. When fate forces you, I
had said to Ralf. I felt my blood running fast and light with the
hope that this stroke -- ill luck we had thought it -- might be the
first cold, dangerous touch of the god's hand.

When the troop rode up, halting with a
clatter and slither of shingle in front of the ferryman's hut, I
was standing waiting for them in the open doorway, with the
firelight behind me, and the bright moonlight catching the royal
Dragon at my shoulder.

Behind me in the shadows I heard Ralf
mutter thankfully: "Not Cornwall's men. They won't know
me."

"But they'll know me," I said. "That's
Ynyr's badge. They're Welshmen from Guent."

The officer was a tall man, with a
thin hawk face and a white scar twisting the corner of his mouth. I
did not remember him, but he stared, saluted, and said: "By the
Raven himself! How came you here, sir?"

"I must have words with the King. How
far away is his camp?"

As I spoke, a kind of ripple of
movement went among the troop, horses fidgeting and one suddenly
rearing as if curbed too nervously. The officer snapped something
over his shoulder, then turned back to me. I heard him swallow
before he answered me.

"Some eight miles off,
sir."

There was something more here, I
thought, than surprise at finding me in this deserted place, and
the awe that I was accustomed to meeting among common men. I felt
Ralf move up close behind me to my shoulder. A half-glance showed
me the sparkle in his eyes; show Ralf danger, and he came
alive.

The officer said abruptly: "Well, my
lord, this has saved us something. We were on the way to Caerleon.
We had the King's orders to find you and bring you to
him."

I caught the sharp intake of Ralf's
breath. I thought fast, through a sudden quickening of the heart.
This explained the soldiers' reaction; they thought the King's
enchanter must have had magical foreknowledge of the King's will.
On a plainer level, it settled the matter of the ferryman; if this
troop was an escort for me, they would not now need to cross the
ferry. Ralf could buy the man's silence when I had gone with the
troops. I would not risk taking the boy back within reach of
Uther's displeasure.

There was no harm in driving the point
home. I said pleasantly: "So I have saved you the trip to Bryn
Myrddin. I'm glad. Where did the King plan to receive me? At
Viroconium? I didn't think he meant to lie at Caerleon."

"Nor does he," said the man. I could
hear the effort of control, but his voice was hoarse, and he
cleared his throat. "You -- you knew the King was traveling north
to Viroconium?"

"How not?" I asked him. From the edge
of my eye I saw the nods and head-turning among the men that also
asked How not? "But I had a mind to talk to him sooner than that.
Did he charge you with a letter for me?"

"No, sir. Instructions to take you to
him, that was all." He leaned forward in the saddle. "I think it
was on account of the message he got last evening from Cornwall.
Ill news, I think, though he told no one what it was. He seemed
angry. Then he gave the order to fetch you."

He waited, looking down at me as if I
would be sure to know the contents of the message.

I was only too afraid that I did.
Someone had recognized us, or made a guess, and sent to tell the
King. The messenger could easily have passed us on the road. So,
whatever was to happen between Uther and myself, I had to get Ralf
out of danger first. And although I was not afraid for the Queen at
Uther's hands, there were others -- Maeve, Caw, Marcia, the child
himself...The skin on my nape stung and roused like a dog's that
smells danger. I took a long, steadying breath and looked about me.
"You have a spare horse? My beast is weary and must be led. My
servant will rest here, and go back at first light with the ferry,
to make ready for me at home. The King will no doubt see me
escorted there when my business with him is done."

The officer's voice, apologetic but
definite, cut across Ralf's furious whisper of dissent. "If it
please you, sir, you will both come. Those were my orders. We have
horses. Shall we ride?"

At the lift of his hand the men were
already moving forward to close us round. There was nothing to be
done. He had his orders, and I would risk more by arguing than by
obeying. Besides, every minute's delay might bring the ferry back.
I had heard nothing, but the fellow must have seen the soldiers'
torches, and might even now be heading back for custom.

A trooper came up with the spare
horses and took our own beasts in hand. We mounted. The officer
barked an order, and the troop wheeled and fell in behind
us.

We were barely two hundred paces from
the shore when I heard, clear behind me, the sound of a boat's
bottom grating on shingle. No one else paid any attention. The
officer was busy telling me about the council to be held in the
north, and behind me I could hear Ralf's voice, gay and amused,
promising the troopers "a skin of sloe wine, the best stuff you
ever tasted. A recipe of my master's. It's what they give you with
the rations now in Caerleon, so you'll see what you've missed.
That's what comes of sending messages for a wizard, who knows
everything that's happened before it's even happened at
all..."

The King was abed when we arrived at
the camp, and we were lodged -- and guarded -- in a tent not far
from his. We said nothing to each other that could not be
overheard. And, danger or no danger, it was the most comfortable
lodging we had had since we left the inn at Camelford. Ralf was
soon asleep, but I lay wakeful, watching the empty dark, listening
to the little wind which had sprung up throwing handfuls of rain
against the walls of the tent, and telling myself: "It must happen.
It must happen. The god sent me the vision. The child was given to
me." But the dark stayed empty, and the wind swept the tent walls
and withdrew into silence, and nothing came.

I turned my head on its uneasy pillow,
and saw dimly the shine of Ralf's eyes, watching me. But he turned
over without speaking, and soon his breathing slackened again into
sleep.

9

The King received me alone,
soon after dawn.

He was armed and ready for the road,
but bareheaded. His helmet with its gold circlet lay on a stool
beside his chair, and his sword and shield stood propped against
the box which held the traveling altar of Mithras that he always
carried with him. The tent was hung with skins and worked curtains,
but it was chilly, and draughts crept everywhere. Outside were the
sounds of the army breaking camp. I could hear the snap and flutter
of the Dragon standard by the entrance.

He greeted me briefly. His face still
wore the bleak expression I remembered, empty of friendliness, but
I could see neither anger nor enmity there. His look was cool and
summing, his voice brisk.

"You and your Sight have saved me a
little trouble, Merlin."

I bent my head. If he asked no
questions I need answer none. I came to the point. "What do you
want with me?"

"Last time we spoke together I was
harsh with you. I have since thought that this was perhaps unworthy
of a king to whom you had just done a service."

"You were bitter at the Duke's
death."

"As to that, he fought against his
King. Whatever the circumstances, he raised a sword to me, and he
died. It's done, and it is past. We, you and I, are left with the
future. This is what concerns me now."

"The child," I said,
assenting.

The blue eyes narrowed. "Who sent you
the news? Or is this still the Sight?"

"Ralf brought the news. When he left
your court, he came to me. He serves me now."

He considered that for a moment, his
brows drawing together, then smoothing as he found no harm in it. I
watched him. He was a tall man, with reddish hair and beard, and a
fair, high-colored skin that made him look younger than his years.
It was just over a year, I thought, since my father had died and
Uther had lifted the Pendragon standard. Kingship had steadied him;
I could see discipline in his face as well as the lines drawn there
by passion and temper, and kingship along with his victories
clothed him like a cloak.

He moved a hand, dismissively, and I
knew that Ralf need fear him no longer. "I said the past was past,
but there is one thing I must ask you. On that night in Tintagel
when this child was begotten, I bade you keep away from me and
trouble me no more. Do you remember?"

"I remember."

"And you replied that you would not
trouble me again, that I should not need your service again. Was
this foresight, or only anger?"

I said quietly: "When I spoke, I spoke
the words that came to me. I thought they were foresight. All the
words I spoke and the things I did throughout that night I took as
if they came straight from the gods. Why do you ask? Have you sent
for me now to command service of me?"

"To ask it, rather."

"As a prophet?"

"No. As a kinsman."

"Then I'll tell you, as a kinsman,
that it was not prophecy that night, nor was it anger, sir, but
only grief. I was grieving for my servant's death, and for the
deaths of Gorlois and his companions. But now, as you say, the past
is past. If I can serve you, you have only to command
me."

But, I thought, as I waited for him to
speak, if it was no prophecy, then none of that night was God's and
He never spoke to me. No, I had told the truth when I said that
Uther would have no need of my service; it had not been Uther whom
I served that night; it was not Uther I would serve now. I
remembered the words of the other King, my father: "You and I
between us, Merlin, we will make such a king as the world has never
known" It was the dead King, and the one still unborn, who
commanded me.

If there had been any hesitation in my
manner, Uther had not noticed it. He nodded, then set his elbow on
his knee and his chin on his fist and thought for a while,
frowning.