Legacy: Arthurian Saga (91 page)

More shuffling. They exchanged
glances. No one answered. Clearly where we stood, the scuffled
frost showed their tracks up to the cave mouth. So, they had been
inside. "Well," I said, "be welcome now."

I crossed to the holy well where the
wooden image of the god stood, barely visible in its dark niche. I
lifted down the cup, poured for him and drank. I invited the leader
with a gesture. He hesitated, then shook his head. "I am a
Christian. What god is that?"

"Myrddin," I said, "the god of high
places. This was his hill before it was mine. He lends it to me,
but he watches it still."

I saw the movement I had been waiting
for among the men. Hands were behind backs as they made the sign
against enchantment. One of them, then another, came forward to
take the cup, drink, and spill for the god. I nodded at them. "It
does not do to forget that the old gods still watch from the air
and wait in the hollow hills. How else did I know you were
here?"

"You knew?"

"How not? Come in." I turned in the
cave mouth, holding back the boughs that half screened the
entrance. None of them moved, except the leader, and he took one
step only, then hesitated. "What's the matter?" I asked him. "The
cave is empty, isn't it? Or isn't it? Did you find something amiss
when you went in, that you are afraid to tell me?"

"There was nothing amiss," said the
leader. "We didn't go in -- that is -- " He cleared his throat, and
tried again. "Yes, we went inside, only a pace over the threshold,
but -- " He stopped. There was muttering, and more glances, and I
heard, "Go on, tell him, Crinas."

Crinas started again. "The truth is,
sir --"

His story was a long time coming, with
many hesitations and promptings, but I got it in the end, still
waiting in the cave mouth with the troopers standing round in a
half circle, like wary cattle. It seemed they had come to Maridunum
a day or so before, waiting their chance to ride up to the cave
unobserved. They had had orders not to approach me openly, for fear
that other watchers (whose presence the King suspected) might
waylay them and take from them any message I might put into their
hands.

"Yes?"

The man cleared his throat. This
morning, he said, they had seen my mare tethered outside the
smithy, saddled and shod. When they asked the smith where I was he
told them nothing, leaving them to assume that I was somewhere in
the town, with business to pursue that would keep me until the mare
was ready. They had imagined that whoever else was watching me
would be staying near me in the town, so had seized the chance and
ridden up to the cave.

Another pause. They could see nothing
in that darkness, but I could feel they were straining to guess my
reactions to their story. I said nothing, and the man swallowed,
and ploughed on.

The next part of the story had, at
least, the ring of truth. During their wait in Maridunum they had
asked, among other idle-sounding questions, the way to the cave. Be
sure they had been told, with nothing spared about the holiness of
the place, and the power and awesomeness of its owner. The people
of the valley were very proud of their enchanter, and my deeds
would lose nothing in the telling. So the men had ridden up the
valley half afraid already.

They had found, as they expected, a
deserted cave. The frost outside held the lawn blank and printless.
All that had met them was the silence of the winter hills, broken
only by the trickle of the spring. They had lit a torch and peered
in through the entrance; the cave was orderly but empty, and the
ashes were cold...

"Well?" I asked, as Crinas
stopped.

"We knew you were not there, sir, but
there was a feeling about the place...When we called out there was
no reply, but then we heard something rustling in the dark. It
seemed to come from the inner cave, where the bed is with the lamp
beside it --"

"Did you go in?"

"No, sir."

"Or touch anything?"

"No, sir," he said quickly. "We -- we
did not dare."

"It's just as well," I said. "And
then?"

"We looked all about us, but there was
no one. But all the time, that sound. We began to be afraid. There
had been stories...One of the men said you might be there watching,
invisible. I told him not to be a fool, but indeed there was a
feeling..."

"Of eyes in one's back? Of course
there was. Go on."

He swallowed. "We shouted again. And
then -- they came down out of the roof. The bats, like a
cloud."

We were interrupted then. Stilicho had
reached the grove and seen the troopers' horses tied there. I heard
the shed door slam shut on our horses, then the boy came racing up
the twisting pathway and across the flat grass, dagger in
hand.

He was shouting something. Moonlight
caught the blade of the long knife, held low and level, ready to
stab. Metal rasped as the men whirled to defend themselves. I took
two swift strides forward, pushing them aside, and bore down hard
on the boy's knife hand, bringing him up short.

"No need. They're King's men. Put up."
Then, as the others put their weapons back: "Were you followed,
Stilicho?"

He shook his head. He was trembling. A
slave is not trained to arms like a free man's son. Indeed, it was
only since we had come to Bryn Myrddin that I had let him carry a
knife at all. I let him go, and turned back to Crinas. "You were
telling me about the bats. It sounds to me as if you had let the
stories trouble you overmuch, Crinas. If you disturbed the bats,
they might certainly alarm you for a moment, but they are only
bats."

"But that was not all, my lord. The
bats came down, yes, out of the roof, somewhere in the dark, and
went past us into the air. It was like a plume of smoke, and the
air stank. But after they had gone by us we heard another sound. It
was music."

Stilicho, standing close to me, stared
from them to me, wide-eyed in the dusk. I saw they were making the
sign again.

"Music all around us," said the man.
"Soft, like whispering, running round and round the wall of the
cave in an echo. I'm not ashamed, my lord, we came out of that
cave, and we did not dare go in again. We waited for you
outside."

"With swords drawn against
enchantment. I see. Well, there is no need to wait longer in the
cold. Will you not come in now? I assure you that you will not be
harmed, so long as you do not raise a hand against me or my
servant. Stilicho, go in and kindle the fire. Now, gentlemen? No,
don't try to go. Remember you have not yet given me the King's
message."

Finally, between threats and
reassurance, they came in, treading very softly indeed, and not
speaking above a whisper. The leader consented to sit with me, but
none of the others would come in as far, preferring to sit between
the fire and the mouth of the cave. Stilicho hurried to warm wine
with spices, and hand it round. Now that they were in the light I
could see that they were not dressed in the uniform of the King's
regular troops; there was neither badge nor blazon to be seen; they
might be taken for the armed troops of any petty leader. They
certainly carried themselves like soldiers, and though they paid
Crinas no obvious deference, it was apparent that there was some
difference of rank between them. I surveyed them. The leader sat
stolidly, but the others fidgeted under my gaze, and I saw one of
them, a thin, smallish man with black hair and a pale face, still
surreptitiously making the sign.

At length I spoke: "You have come, you
tell me, with messages from the King. Did he charge you with a
letter?"

Crinas answered me. He was a big man,
reddish fair, with light eyes. Some Saxon blood, perhaps; though
there are red Celts as fair as this. "No, sir. Only to convey his
greetings, and ask after his son's welfare."

"Why?"

He repeated my question in apparent
surprise. "Why, my lord?"

"Yes, why? I have been gone from the
court four months. In that time the King has had reports. Why
should he send you now, and to me? He knows the child is not here.
It seems obvious" -- I lingered on the word, looking from one to
the other of the armed men -- "that he could not be safe here. The
King also knew that I would wait at Bryn Myrddin for a while before
I left to join Prince Arthur. I expect to be spied on, but I find
it hard to believe that he sent you with such a
message."

The three beyond the fire looked at
one another. A broad fellow with a red, pimpled face shifted his
swordbelt forward nervously, his hand playing unthinkingly with the
hilt. I saw Stilicho's eyes on him; then he moved round with the
winejug to stand nearby. Crinas held my eyes for a moment in
silence, then nodded. "Well, sir, all right. You've smoked us out.
I didn't hope to get away with a thin tale like that, not with you.
It was all I could think of at a jump, when you surprised us like
that."

"Very well. You are spies. I still
want to know why?"

He lifted his broad shoulders. "You
know, sir, who better, what kings are. It wasn't for us to question
when we were told to come here and look the place over without
letting you see us." Behind him the others nodded, agreeing
anxiously. "And we did no harm, my lord. We never came into the
cave. That much was true."

"No, and you told me why
not."

He turned up a hand. "Well, sir, I
don't say but you do right to be angry. I'm sorry. This isn't our
normal business, as you'll guess, but orders are
orders."

"What were you ordered to find
out?"

"Nothing special, just ask around, and
take a look at the place, and find out when you were going." A
quick look sideways, to see how I was taking it. "It was my
understanding that there was a lot you hadn't told the King, and he
wanted to find out. Did you know he had you followed from the
minute you left London?"

Another grain of truth. "I guessed
it," I said.

"Well, there you are." He managed to
say it as if it explained everything. "It's a way kings have,
trusting nobody and wanting to know everything. It's my belief --
if you'll excuse me for saying it, my lord --"

"Go on."

"I think the King didn't believe what
you told him about where you were keeping the young prince. Maybe
he thought you'd shift him, and keep him hidden, like before. So he
sent us on the quiet, hoping we'd find some clue."

"Perhaps. Wanting knowledge is a
disease of kings. And speaking of that, is there any worsening of
the King's health which might have made him suddenly anxious for
news?"

I saw, as clearly as if he had said
it, that he wished he had thought of this himself. He hesitated,
then decided that where it could be told, the truth was safer. "As
to that, my lord, we've no information, and I've not seen him
myself lately. But they say the sickness has passed, and he's back
in the field."

This tallied with what I had been
told. I said nothing for a while, but watched them thoughtfully,
Crinas drank, with an assumption of ease, but his eyes on me were
wary. At length I said: "Well, you have done as you were bidden,
and found out what the King wanted. I am still here, and the child
is not. The King must trust me for the rest. As, for when I am
going, I will tell him in my own good time."

Crinas cleared his throat. "That's an
answer we'd sooner not take, sir." His voice came overloud, like a
braggart's, but he was not bluffing. The others shared his fear,
but without his measure of courage; though this was no comfort to
me; I knew that frightened men are dangerous. One of the troopers
-- the small fellow with black eyes shifting in a face pale with
nerves -- leaned forward and plucked at his leader's sleeve. I
caught the mutter of, "Better go. Don't forget who he is...Quite
enough now...Make him angry."

I said crisply: "I am not angry. You
are doing your duty, and it is not your fault if the King trusts no
one, but must have each story ratified twice over. You may tell him
this" -- I paused as if for thought, and saw them craning -- "that
his son is where I told him, safe and thriving, and that I am only
waiting for good weather to make the voyage."

"Voyage?" Crinas asked
sharply.

I lifted my brows. "Come now. I
thought all the world knew where Arthur was. In any case, the King
will understand."

One of the men said hoarsely: "Yes, we
knew, but it was only a whisper. Then it's true about the
island?"

"Quite true."

"HyBrasil?" asked Crinas. "That's a
myth, my lord, saving your presence."

"Did I give it a name? I am not
responsible for the whispers. The place has many names, and enough
stories are told about it to fill the Nine Books of Magic...And
every man who sees it sees something different. When I took Arthur
there --"

I paused to drink, as a singer wets
his throat before touching the chords. The three in front of me
were all attention now. I did not look at Crinas, but spoke past
him, giving my voice the tale-teller's extra pitch and
resonance.

"You all know that the child was
handed to me three nights after he was born. I took him to a safe
place, then when the time was right and the world quiet, I carried
him westwards, to a coast I know. There, below the cliffs, is a bay
of sand where the rocks stand up like the fangs of wolves, and no
boat or swimmer can live when the tide is breaking round them. To
right and left of the bay the sea has driven arches through the
cliff. The rocks are purple and rose-colored and pale as turquoise
in the sun, and on a summer's evening when the tide is low and the
sun sinking, men see on the horizon land that comes and goes with
the light. It is the Summer Isle, which (they say) floats and sinks
at the will of heaven, the Island of Glass through which the clouds
and stars can be seen, but which for those who dwell there is full
of trees and grass and springs of sweet water..."