Arthur

EIGHT

Fear came swimming out of the very air. What if Morgian should return to claim her prize?

Blessed Jesu, help me! Where is Merlin?

I ran. Searching blindly. Stumbling, falling, picking myself up and running on, I searched for the house – but I could not find it, or Merlin. I called his name, but there was no answer… no answer.

In the end, I returned to the pool and forced myself to kneel down and drink. Somewhat refreshed, I washed my sweating face and then set about saddling the horses.

I was resolved in my soul to find my master, or die trying. Though Morgian returned… though all the powers of hell raged against me… I determined to find him and free him from the sorcery that bound him.

With this vow in my heart, I went down on my knees and prayed for the leading of the Guiding Hand and the protection of angels and archangels. Then I rose and swung into the saddle, and thus began my search anew.

Perhaps prayer is so rarely heard in that wilderness that it is answered all the more readily. Or perhaps wherever the Adversary flaunts his power, the Most High quickly grants the plea of any anguished bean that seeks him.

However it was, my urgent prayers soon turned to shouts of praise, for I had ridden but half-way round the pool when I saw my master. He was lying face down beneath an elder bush, his legs and feet in the water.

I vaulted from the saddle and ran to him, hauled him from the pool and rolled him on his back. Pressing my ear to his chest, I listened. He lived. His heart beat slowly, but rhythmically. He slept – a deathlike, leaden sleep: no movement, breath light and shallow.

Cradling him in my arms, I began chafing his hands and shaking his shoulders in an effort to rouse him. But I could not.

I rose to my feet, contemplating what next to do. Clearly, we could not stay in the forest. We needed help. There was nothing for it but to ride for Benowyc, but I could not leave Merlin.

'Forgive me, Master, there is no other way." So saying, I raised him up to sitting position and, bending low, took his weight on my shoulders and lifted him.

Slowly, and with immense difficulty, I eased my master onto his horse. Then, though it hurt me to do it, I drew his hands together around his mount's neck and bound them – all the while praying his forgiveness for the pain I knew it would cause him.

At last, satisfied that he would not topple from the saddle, I took his mount's reins and tied them to the cantles of my saddle. Without a backward glance I started for Benowyc.

'Whatever is required will be done,' Ban repeated earnestly. 'You have but to name it.'

I could think of nothing save bearing Merlin away to Ynys Avallach as soon as possible. For I had made up my mind that if my master were to be healed anywhere on this earth it would be at the Shrine of the Saviour God near the Fisher King's palace. And if anyone in this worlds-realm could heal him, it would be Charis, the Lady of the Lake.

'Again I thank you, Lord Ban,' I told him. 'The use of your fastest ship will avail us much. It is all that we need now.'

'I will come with you.'

'It is not necessary.'

'Allow me to send a physician in any case. I will summon one from the abbey.'

'I dare not delay even a day longer. There are physicians at Ynys Avallach who will know how to free my master from this sorcery.'

Ban frowned. 'Very well, you shall leave at once. I will accompany you to the ship and instruct the pilot and crew myself. Also, I will send a man to help you.'

We left Caer Kadarn as soon as a litter could be prepared for Merlin. The tide was flowing when we reached the port; the ship was manned and ready. We boarded as soon as the horses were safely picketed, whereupon Ban delivered his orders to the boatmen. But a few moments later, I felt the ship surge away from the quay and turned to call farewell to Lord Ban.

'Whatever happens,' he replied, 'we will come to you in the spring. Also the supplies you have asked for will be sent as soon as the harvest is gathered in. I will not forget my promise of aid!'

In truth, I had forgotten all about Arthur and our reason for coming to Benowyc in the first place.

All that can be said of the sea -journey is that it was mercifully short. Favourable winds carried us swiftly over the sea and into Mor Hafren. We made landfall late in the third day, along the Briw river, having sailed inland as far as the river would allow. From there we rode, following the river directly to the lake surrounding King Avallach's Isle.

We came upon the Tor at dawn, glowing red-gold in the new day's misty light. We had ridden through the night, stopping neither for food nor sleep. The horses were near exhaustion, as I was myself.

'We are home, Master,' I said to the body lying deathly still on the litter beside me. 'Help is at hand.'

I started along the lakeshore and struck the causeway joining the Tor to Shrine Hill and the lands beyond, leading Ban's steward and Merlin. We crossed the causeway, and then began slowly climbing the winding track to the summit – all the while keeping my eyes on the palace lest, like Morgian's enchanted dwelling, it should vanish in the mist.

The Fisher King's palace is a strange and wonderful place. It somewhat resembles my father's palace in Llyonesse, but Avallach's realm is the sun to Belyn's black night. Surrounded by its lakes and salt marshes, with groves of apple trees rising on its lower slopes, Ynys Avallach is a true island – a landlocked island, yes, but cut off from the main as completely as any seabound crag.

Out of necessity, the Fair Folk adapted the open, light-filled structures of their lost homeland to the bleaker clime of Ynys Prydein. But they still sought the noble, uplifting line, and the illusion of light – much needed hi this often melancholy corner of the world.

Fair Folk… Faery: the adopted name of the orphan remnant of Atlantis' lost children who settled here. Fair we are, by comparison; for we are taller, stronger, and more agile than the Britons; by nature more comely, possessing higher gifts. Also, our lives are measured differently.

Little wonder that we are often looked upon as very gods by the easily mystified inhabitants of this island realm. The simple people esteem us unnecessarily, the backward revere us without cause, and the superstitious worship us.

It is folly, of course – the more to be believed, apparently. We are a separate race; that is all. And a dying one.

I know full well that I am the last of my line. There shall be no more after me. As God wills, so be it. I am content.

Merlin is different, though. How different is not easy to tell. He is fully as much a mystery, in his own way, as his father.

I never knew Taliesin. But I have talked with those who did know him – including Charis, who shared his life however briefly. 'In truth,' she told me once, Taliesin is more a wonder to me now than ever – and it deepens with each passing year.

'You ask me who he was, and I tell you plainly: I do not know.' She shook her head slowly, gazing into that vivid past where she and Taliesin still walked together as one. 'We were happy, that is all I know. He opened my heart to love, and hence to God, and my gratitude, like my love for him, will endure for ever.'

Seeing the Tor at first light brought these things to mind, and in my fatigue I wrapped myself in reverie as I made my slow way up the twisting path to the Tor.

It was early yet, and the gates were still closed. So I roused the gatesman, who hugged me like a brother and then ran to the palace, calling at the top of his voice. Telleas has come home! Pelleas is here!'

Weary to the bone, I had not the strength to call after him. It was all I could do to stand upright in the empty yard.

'Pelleas, welcome!' I knew Avallach's voice when I heard it, and raised my eyes to see the Fisher King advancing towards me. He saw Merlin stretched upon the litter and his greeting died with the smile on his lips. 'Is he…?'

I had no time to answer. 'Pelleas!' Charis appeared, dressed hi her night clothes, and hurried barefoot across the yard, hope and terror mingling in her expression. She glanced behind me to where Ban's steward waited, head bent as if in sorrow. 'What has happened? Oh, Pelleas, does he live?'

'He lives,' I assured her, my voice the croak of a crow. 'But he sleeps the sleep of death."

'What do you mean?' Her green eyes searched my face for comfort, but there was none to be found.

'I cannot rouse him,' I told her. 'It was… ' How could I say the words? 'It is sorcery."

Charis' long experience treating the sick and dying served her well. She turned to the gatesman lingering near and said, 'Go to the abbey and bring the abbot at once.' Her voice was calm, but I sensed the urgency as if she had shouted.

Avallach bent over Merlin's body. 'Help me, we must get him inside.' Together Ban's steward and Avallach raised Merlin from the litter; the Fisher King gathered him up and carried him into the hall.

Dizzy with exhaustion, I swayed on my feet. Charis put her arms around me to support me. 'Oh, Pelleas… I am sorry, I did not – '

'There is no need, my lady – ' I began, but she did not hear.

'You are weary. Come, let me help you.'

'I can walk.' I took a step and the ground seemed to shift under my feet. But for Charis I would have collapsed in the yard. Somehow we reached the hall and crossed it to the chamber prepared for me.

'Rest you now, Pelleas,' Charis told me, placing a coverlet over me. 'You have done your part; I will care for my son now.'

It was late when I awakened. The sky was golden in the west as the sun slipped down to touch the hill-line. Desperately hungry, I rose, washed myself, then made my way back to the hall. Charis was waiting for me, her head bowed, praying. A tray of meat, bread and cheese, lay next to her on the board. Cups stood nearby, and a jar of beer.

She rose and came to me when she saw me, smiled, and said, 'You look more like the Pelleas I remember. Are you hungry?'

'Famished,' I admitted. 'But I can wait a little. Is there any change?'

She shook her head slowly. 'There is not. I have been considering what to do – I have spent the day with my books, seeking a remedy. But… ' She let the words go unsaid. 'You must break your fast now,' she instructed, guiding me to the board and seating me, 'and regain your strength.'

'We will bring him back,' I said boldly, more from encouragement than confidence.

Charis put her hands on my shoulders, leaned near and kissed me on the cheek. 'You serve him well, Pelleas. More than a servant, you are his truest friend. He is fortunate; any man would be blessed to have such a companion. I am glad he has chosen you to go with him.' She seated herself beside me and poured drink into the cups.

'My lady, I chose him.' I reminded her. 'And I will never forsake him.' I glanced out of one of the high windows. The light was fading outside. Was it fading for Merlin as well?

I ate nearly all that was before me. How many days had it been since I had eaten? I more than made up for it, I think. Satisfied at last, I pushed the tray away and took up the cup.

'The man with you,' Charis said when I had finished, 'he told Avallach he was from Armorica, a realm called Benowyc. Is that where Merlin was… was stricken?'

'It is,' I replied, and began to explain the aim of our journey. 'The trouble here in the south – Morcant's stupid war, strife in a dozen different places – it is only just beginning. Now more than ever we need a High King, but Arthur's claim was not upheld.'

I told her of the council and of Arthur's becoming War Leader, and of our journey to Ban in Benowyc to secure aid. I described finding Fair Folk in Ban's court… and then I told her of Broceliande.

Charis became earnest. 'Pelleas, if I am to help, I must know – what happened to the people in Broceliande?'

'I cannot say for certain, but I think it was Morgian's doing.'

'Morgian!' Charis' hand flew up as if to ward off a blow.

'It is so, my lady.'

'When you said it was sorcery, I did not think… ' her voice trailed off. Presently she nodded – as if forcing down bitter herbs. 'Tell me what happened to my son,' she said. 'I will bear it.'

Slowly, each word weighted with dread and sorrow, I told Charis of our encounter with Nimue. The Lady of the Lake listened calmly, holding her head erect. But her eyes bespoke the torment in her soul. 'It was Morgian,' she whispered, when I finished.

'I fear it was,' I said. 'I do not know how it is, but she anticipated us. In truth, I believe she lured us there to our destruction.'

'But you were not destroyed.'

'No,' I said. 'God is good; we were spared.'

'My heart wishes to tell me that you are wrong, that there must be some other explanation. But my spirit tells me you are right: this is Morgian's doing. I feel it.'

'When I found him, and saw that he still lived, my only thought was to bring him here. If Merlin is to be saved, it will be here.' I spoke with far more certainty than I felt at that moment.

'Your faith is admirable, Pelleas. But I know nothing of sorcery. As it is, I have not been able to discover how the spell may be broken or how Merlin may be released from it.' Charis sighed, and I heard heartbreak in the sound.

The room was bright with candlelight. As if to banish the dark thing stealing her son, Charis had ordered the chamber to be filled with burning tapers. Together we entered a room warm with the scent of beeswax.

Merlin lay on his back, his arms at his sides. Abbot Elfodd sat beside him on the bed, his ear close to Merlin's mouth, listening to the sleeping man's breathing. His face was calm, but his eyes were grave.

'Nothing has changed,' Elfodd said softly, as he came to the bed. They had shared this same sickbed vigil too many times to be counted; no greeting was necessary between them.

'The spell is Morgan's,' Charis said, naming her worst fear.

'Ah,… ' The good abbot passed a hand before his eyes. 'God help us.'

We fell silent, gazing at Merlin, wondering what, if anything, could be done to save him. Could anything be done to save him?

Elfodd was the first to shake off his dismay. 'This!' he declared, throwing a hand to the room. 'Do you feel it? This fear, this dread is part of the spell. It is meant to discourage us. To defeat us before we have even begun to fight against it.'

'You are right,' Charis agreed quickly.

'Well,' Elfodd declared, 'I know something stronger than fear.' And at once he began to recite a psalm in a bold voice: The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the sword of my salvation, my stronghold. I call to the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies!'

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room seemed lighter; the heavy dread receded.

Turning to me, the abbot said, 'Now then, Pelleas, I would hear you tell me what you know of this spell – but not here. We will go into the hall. Excuse us, lady,' he said to Charis, 'we will return directly.'

I told him all, as I had told Charis. The good abbot listened, a frown on his face, nodding occasionally as he followed my woeful recitation. 'Undoubtedly,' he said when he had heard, 'it is as we suspect: a most powerful enchantment. The weapons we will need to fight it must be equally powerful.'

'What is in your mind, Elfodd?'

'You will see very soon. Now then, bring a little oil, Pelleas. And the cross that Dafyd gave to Avallach – bring that as well. I will return to Merlin now.'

So saying, the abbot hurried away and I turned to my errand. I fetched the oil in a vial, and sought Avallach for the cross. I had seen it once, a long time ago, but did not know where it was kept. I found Avallach alone in his chamber. The pain of his long-standing ailment was on him once more and he was lying on his couch.

'I would not disturb you, lord,' I said when he bade me enter. 'We have need of the cross given you by Dafyd.'

The king raised himself slowly on an elbow. 'Dafyd's cross?" His eyes went to the vial in my hand. 'No change?'

'None,' I told him. 'Elfodd is with him now.'

'The cross is there.' He indicated a small casket on the table beside his couch. Take it. I will come along – ' He tried to rise, but the pain prevented him. 'Ah!' He slumped back, then struggled up once more, his teeth clenched.

'Please,' I said quickly, 'stay here and support us with your prayers. We have need of them just now.'

'Very well,' he agreed, falling back once more. 'I will do as you say. But come and tell me as soon as there is any word.'

I left Avallach with my promise and returned to Merlin's room with the cross and oil. Dafyd's cross, as Avallach called it, was a small crucifix of rough-carved oak, smoothed and polished by years of frequent handling.

Elfodd kissed the cross when I handed it to him, and then, holding his palm above the vial, said a prayer of consecration over the amber liquid.

He went to the bedside and sat down opposite Charis, poured some of the oil into his left hand and, touching the fingertips of his right hand to the sanctified oil, began anointing Merlin.

When he lowered his hand, Merlin's forehead glimmered softly in the candlelight with the sign of the cross.

Then, taking up the cross, he held it above Merlin's head, and said, 'Great of Might, Protector, Defender of all who call upon your name, shelter your servant beneath your strong hand. He sleeps, Father, an unnatural sleep, for an enemy has snared and bound him in a strong enchantment.

'His spirit has been poisoned, Father, by sorcery great and foul. Raise and restore our brother, we pray you. Beloved of Heaven, go to him, walk beside him where he is, and lead him back to us.

'Living God, show yourself mighty in the defence of your own. Great Giver, give us cause to sing your praise from the hilltops. This we ask, in the name of your most holy and compassionate son, Jesu, who is the Christ.'

The prayer finished, Elfodd lowered the cross and placed it gently on Merlin's breast.

Charis forced a tight smile. 'Thank you, Elfodd.'

The abbot folded his hands and gazed at Merlin. 'We have done what we can do,' he said.

'It is enough,' Charis replied. 'Pray God it is enough.'

'I will watch with him through the night,' Elfodd volunteered. He stepped round the low bed, took Charis by the hands and raised her to her feet. 'Go now. Take some rest. I will send for you if there is any need.'

Charis hesitated. Her eyes did not leave Merlin's face. 'No… I will stay. I would have no rest apart from him.'

'It is better that you go,' Elfodd insisted. His voice had lost none of its gentleness, but was now most firm.

'If you think – ' began Charis, glancing away from her son for the first time.

'Trust me. I will summon you if you are needed.'

Reluctantly, Charis agreed, saying, 'Stay with the abbot, Pelleas. He may need you.'

'As you wish, my lady.'

She left then, closing the door silently behind her.

'It is hard for her,' Elfodd sighed, 'but believe me this is for the best. She wants to help him so badly, but her anxiety – so natural in a mother – can only make things worse. The Enemy will use it, you see. Doubt, fear, dread – it all feeds the curse.'

The abbot drew the chair close to the bed and settled himself for his vigil. 'Go now, Pelleas. Leave him to me; I will look after him.'

'I will stay,' I replied, 'as I have promised to do.'

'I honour the intent of your promise, but you will help your master the more by looking to your own health just now. Go to your rest. I will wake you if I need you.'

Though the sky still held light in the west, I went to my chamber and stretched myself on my pallet. I thought that I would not be able to sleep, but, closing my eyes, I felt the tide-pull overwhelm me and I knew no more.

In my sleep I entered that state where a human being stands closest to the Otherworld. The veil that separates the two worlds grew thin and I could sense the seething darkness that had enveloped the Tor. Deep, impenetrable, black as death, it was the shadow of a great ravening beast – a ghastly thing with wings and coils like a serpent, with which it bound the Tor and palace.

I could not see the unholy creature, but I could feel the bone-aching chill of its presence, and I heard the howl of its mindless hate. I quailed to think of the power that had called it into being and loosed it on the world.

But as darkly powerful as the hell-thing was, something held it at bay – something stronger still – though I could not see what it was.

Further I drifted in sleep, haze dimmed my inner sight, but my senses remained sharp – sharper than in waking life. I slept, but did not sleep. My soul-self remained alert within me and alive to the danger round about me.

Danger there was. Very great danger.

It seemed to me then as if I took wings and flew – for I sensed the earth rushing by beneath me: rock crags and broken hills, blurred to sight by the speed of my flight and the vaporous darkness. On and on, over this menacing landscape I flew, hastening onward, but not arriving.

Yet, when it seemed as if I must journey on this way for ever, I sensed a lightening in the strange obscurity around me. Light, faint and faded, tinted the black to grey.

Feeling the light on my eyes, I turned towards it and the grey cloudlike mist separated – darkness below, and light, thin but perceptible, above.

At the same moment, I became heavier; my limbs grew wooden and stiff. I began to fall back, plummeting down towards that sharp rockscape somewhere far below me. And, though I knew myself to be dreaming, it came into my mind that if I allowed myself to fall onto the cruel rocks, I would surely be crushed and killed.

I fought against the downward pull, flinging my arms and kicking my legs as if in swimming. I sank more quickly. The thought of the terrible rocks rushing up to meet me roused me to fury. I fought on, with all the strength I had.

I fell faster. My limbs began to ache with the effort and I knew I would not be able to continue much longer, but set my teeth, vowing to go on swimming and swimming until my muscles knotted up and I could no longer move.

On and on I went, struggling, striving, falling back and back. After what seemed an eternity I came at last to the end of my strength…

But, instead of falling, I felt myself rising.

I looked and saw that while I struggled the light had become brighter. Indeed, it was as if my feeble efforts had increased the light somehow. Inexplicably, I was being drawn upward by the light I had helped to magnify; the selfsame light that I helped generate was now saving me.

Very soon I came to a place where the light shone bright and unhindered. It was dazzling white, like the radiance of the morning sun on fresh snow. And, shielding my eyes with my hands, I looked back the way I had come and saw that I had not flown at all, nor struggled half so much as it seemed. For the light revealed a smooth, unbroken pathway along which I had been led… step by careful step.

And it came to me that this is how the spirit travels towards God: beginning its journey in darkness, setting off in danger and confusion, and struggling upward into the ever present light which draws it and upholds it always…