Merlin

ONE

Vortigern had gone to ground in the west, in his native lands, choosing high Yr Widdfa's bleak hills for his last battleground. There he hoped to erect a fortress strong enough to keep the young eagles from stripping the flesh from his brittle bones, strong enough to keep the battling boar from uprooting him.

For it was as I had said in my story, fox Vortigern had played his last trick and now cowered in the hills, awaiting the judgement of those he had wronged, and those whose greed he had inflamed. The young eagles, Aurelius and Uther – younger brothers of Cons tans, murdered son of the slain Constantine, first High King of Britain – gathered warriors in the south. Hengist, the boar, awaited the arrival of reinforcements for his Saecsen warhost from his homeland. It would be a race to see which enemy would reach miserable, driven, fox Vortigern first.

Vortigern knew all this, of course, and early the next morning, as Iwas preparing to leave, the High King called me to him.

'I would not detain you unduly, Myrddin, for I esteem you highly. But if you would tarry with me but a little, I would speak with you, and I would deem it a service worth high reward.'

I was eager to be away, anxious now to seek out my mother in Ynys Avallach and let her know I was still alive. It rankled me to delay even a moment more; although I held no ill will towards the High King, there was nothing more to say to Vortigern. I had done what I had come to do, and even now word was winging across the land that I had returned.

I could hear the voices:

Myrddin Wylt is come!… Merlin the Enchanter has appeared!… The Great Emrys is alive again, awakened from his long sleep… Did you see? He defeated the druid bards of the High King and had them all beheaded… Heis here, I have seen him, Merlinus Ambrosius, King ofDyfed, has returned for his kingdom!… Did you hear? He has foretold Vortigern's doom!… Merlin lives again!

Yes, the Emrys had returned with the doom of the usurper in his hand. Vortigern, for all his sins and vices, was no mouse. What he had done he had always done boldly, with impunity. If his doom was to catch him up, he was game to hold it off as long as he could, by whatever means possible. But he wanted to know what shape it would take, so to prepare himself to fight or to flee – which is why he sent for me now.

'I have nothing more to tell you, Lord Vortigern,' I said. 'There is nothing else to say.'

'Perhaps not, but I would speak nonetheless,' the High King replied. He lowered himself heavily into his chair, a handsome thing carved with Imperial eagles on the armrests. His bloated face was haggard in the early morning light. 'I did not sleep last night,' he paused and I waited, 'for fear, Myrddin, for fear of a dream… '

He looked at me cannily. 'They tell me you are one who knows portents and dreams. I would have you tell me the meaning of mine, for I fear it greatly and believe it betokens much.'

'Very well, Vortigern, tell me your dream and, if I find a meaning in it, I will tell you.'

The grizzled red head nodded absently and he was silent for a moment, then began abruptly. 'I saw the pit the workmen dug at your bidding and at the bottom they struck a great stone and it broke and the water gushed forth – as it did, you know – and then you ordered the water to be drawn off by means of a ditch. This was done and, when the pool was carried away, a great cavern was discovered, and in it two great stones like eggs.'

He paused to swill some wine from a cup, and then continued, never looking at me with his eyes, but staring at the dead embers on his hearth. 'Inside the stone eggs were two dragons that came forth to battle one another. The first was white as milk, and the other – the other was red as blood. And they fought one another, shaking the very ground with then- furious fight.

'Oh, it was terrible to behold! Their jaws foamed, their tails thrashed, and with their claws they slashed one another. Flames flew out from their mouths! First the white would be above, and then beneath, and the same with the red dragon. Sorely they wounded one another, I tell you, and when neither could fight any more, they dragged themselves back to their eggs and slept, only to fight once again when they had rested.

'That is all, though it filled me with such terror that I awoke at once.' Vortigern dashed down the last of the wine and sat back, fixing his narrow eyes on me at last. 'Well, what say you, Myrddin? What of these dragons in the pit and their fierce fight?'

I answered him forthrightly, for I had seen the meaning in my mind as he spoke. 'Yours was a true dream, Vortigern. And here is its meaning: the dragons are kings yet to come, who will contend with one another for the Island of the Mighty – white for the Saecsen horde, blood red for the true Sons of Britain.'

'Which is fated to win, Myrddin?'

'Neither will triumph over the other until the land is united. In truth, the man has not been born who can bind the tribes of Britain together.'

He nodded again, slowly. 'What of me, Myrddin? What will happen to Vortigern?'

'Do you really want to know?'

'I must know.'

'Even now, Aurelius and Uther are sailing from Armor-ica-'

'So you have said,' he snorted, 'in that tale of yours.'

'They will arrive with fourteen galleys and put ashore tomorrow in the south. Meanwhile, Hengist has gathered his war brood and they march to meet you now. Your enemies are arrayed on every side. As you have done much evil, much evil will be done to you. Yet, if you would save your life, you must flee, Vortigern.'

'Is there nothing else I can do?'

I shook my head. 'Flee, Vortigern, or stay and face the wrath of those you have wronged. Make no mistake, Aurelius and Uther seek the blood price for their brother; they mean to pluck back their realm, and the kings of Britain march with them.'

'Is there no hope for me?' This was spoken softly, but without self-pity. Vortigern knew what he had done and, likely, had long ago weighed out the losses against the gains.

'Here is your hope, Lord Vortigern, and the hope of our people: from the events which you have set in motion will arise a king who will hold all Britain in his hand, a High King who will be the wonder of the world – a Chief Dragon to utterly devour the white dragon of the pit.'

He smiled grimly and stood. 'Well, if I am to flee, I must be about it. Will you accompany me, Myrddin? I would have you with me for your presence is a balm to me.'

'No,' I told him. 'My road lies another way. Farewell, Lord Vortigern. We will not meet again.'

Pelleas and I departed the camp as Vortigern called his chieftains to order the march east, where he hoped to elude the vengeance of the brothers swooping down on him. It would go ill with fox Vortigern, yet there was nothing for it but to face the justice he had so long denied.

We were well away from the stronghold, riding down between the crease of the hills and out of sight. Pelleas, glancing a last time over his shoulder at the heads of the druids adorning a row of pikes along the ridgeway, sighed with relief. 'That is over.'

'For Vortigern, yes,' I replied, 'but not for us.'

'We ride to Ynys Avallach, do we not?'

'We do, but our stay there will not be long.'

'How long?' he asked, dreading my answer.

'A few days,' I told him, 'that is all. I wish it were more, believe me.'

'But -' He was remembering his master's temperament and how quickly moods and plans could change. 'But it is not to be.'

I shook my head gently. 'No, it is not to be.'

We rode on a pace or so, and then I reined up. 'Pelleas, listen carefully to me now. You have found me and brought me back to the world of men, and I thank you for that. But it is in my mind that you will soon curse the day you begged my service. You will wish, perhaps, that you had never wasted a day in searching for me.'

'Forgive me, my lord, but your own heart will prove traitor before I do,' he swore. And I knew he meant it with all that was in him.

'What I have to do will earn no man's thanks,' I warned him. 'It could be that before I am through I will be despised from one end of this island to the other, with every hand raised against me and those who stand with me.'

'Let others make their choice; I have made mine, my Lord Merlin.'

He was in earnest, and now that I knew he understood how hard it would be, I knew I could trust him with both our lives. 'So be it,' I said. 'May God reward your faith, my friend."

We rode on then, considerably lighter of heart than before, for we had spoken the bond between us and our old places had been reclaimed. Pelleas was content, and so was I.

Aurelius and Uther, sons of Constantine by separate mothers and as different as dawn and dusk, would end Vorti-gern's reign with swift justice. Aurelius, the elder of the two, would be the next High King and would prove an inspired leader. His mother was Aurelia, the last flower of a noble Roman family – a claim which Constantine himself could make somewhat less certainly – whose forebears included a governor, a vicarius, a long line of distinguished magistrates, and scores of well-married and highly-revered women.

But Aurelia took fever and died suddenly when Aurelius was three years old. And Constantine, fresh from his victories over the harrying Pict, Scot, and Saecsen, had become smitten with the daughter of one of the defeated Saecsen leaders. In a fit of generosity towards the vanquished, he married the fair-haired beauty, a girl named Onbrawst. Little Uther was born a year later.

Both boys, near enough in age, were raised together in the old Roman manner, under the tutelage of a household servant. Their older brother, Constans, pledged to God from birth, was schooled apart, living with the priests at the little monastery at Venta Bulgarum. When Constantine was murdered by one of his slaves – vengeful Pict whose clan had been defeated years before – old Gosselyn, Archbishop of Londinium, became afraid for the younger boys' lives. He took Aurelius and Uther under his wing.

When, as a result of Vortigern's manipulations, Constans met his sorry end, Gosselyn wisely removed the boys from harm, sending them to an obscure priory in King Hoel s lands in Armorica – near enough to keep an eye on, far enough away not to be a threat to Vortigern's ambition. There they had grown to manhood, biding their time until they could return and claim their rightful place in the world.

This they would do, but they would soon need help if they were to advance the High Kingship beyond the mark made by Vortigern. Hengist would see to it that they had no rest, no opportunity to consolidate their gains, and the other kings, once Hengist was beaten back, would grant them no peace either. In short, they would need my help.

Pelleas and I moved swiftly. He led and I followed, agog at the changes wrought in the land since I had last been in it – especially in the settlements where fear accomplished its bleak work. Walls were everywhere, made of stone, and high. Most of the older, more expansive towns were abandoned – murderously difficult to defend – in favour of smaller, half-hidden stone-built settlements that were less conspicuous, and less inviting to the barbarian eye.

It seemed as if all dwelling places of men had shrunk in upon themselves. Streets, where there were streets, were narrower, the houses smaller and tighter. Everything appeared crowded and huddled together, cowering before the darkness that grew and grew.

This both saddened and outraged me.

By God's Holy Name, we are the Children of the Living Light! We do not cower in our dens like frightened livestock. This is the Island of the Mighty, and it is ours by right! The foeman challenges that right to his everlasting peril, but by the Great Good Light we will not be moved!

Yet, wherever I turned my eyes we were being moved – in body and in spirit. Back and back, retreating before the armies of the night we fled. We were no longer certain of our right or our ability to defend ourselves and our homeland. And, unless something was done soon, this retreat would become a rout.

I took heart that the land itself was solid as ever – not that anyone could change it very much. Trees grew tall for timber; fields, when they could be planted in peace and left to harvest, flourished; cattle and sheep gave good meat, leather, and wool; the old Roman mines were still worked and provided tin and lead and, more importantly, iron for weapons.

There was strength and consolation in this, to be sure. Still, it would take more than healthy agriculture to embolden the hearts of men. It would take a swift, certain demonstration of leadership: success in battle, turning back the onrushing barbarian tide. For this reason, I was anxious to meet Aurelius.

In this young eagle called Aurelius I saw great potential. Perhaps he could become the High King I had seen, the one men needed to restore their faith.

Oh, I had seen Aurelius from afar – in the firemists, in the black oak water of the seeing bowl – and I knew him, after a fashion. But I needed to meet him, to sit down and talk with him and observe what kind of man he was. Only then could I be certain if Britain had a worthy High King.

Purposefully, I stayed well away from my old lands in Dyfed. I was not yet ready to witness what changes had been wrought there and much preferred my memory of the place. My sudden appearance would be awkward, to say the least, for those ruling there now. News of my return would hasten to Maridunum – now called Caer Myrddin, Pelleas informed me blithely – and that would cause confusion enough. Besides, I was not at all certain what I should do, and there would be time to decide that later, after I had met with Aurelius.

Before that, however, I had but one desire: to return to the only home I knew, to see my mother. In truth, I never stopped to think what commotion my sudden appearance at Ynys Avallach would provoke. In my mind the place was always so serene, so remote from the frantic strivings of the larger world, I imagined – if I had any thought at all – that, simply setting foot onto the Isle of Apples, I would instantly fall under its peaceful enchantment, occupying the same place I had always occupied. 'Oh there you are Merlin, I wondered where you had gone.' As if I had merely departed no further than the next room and had now returned but a moment, a small space of heartbeats, later.

For me, at least, it was something like that. For Charis and Avallach, it was something else entirely.

After the first flurry of sensation at the announcement of my arrival – there was now a gatehouse at the end of the causeway leading to the Fisher King's palace – the glad cries of welcome, and the tears – my own and my mother's – it still took some time for the place to recover its normal, staid dignity.

I had been missed, and sorely, my death contemplated and wondered at ten thousand thousand times since my disappearance. I had, selfishly I suppose, vastly underestimated my own value in my mother's life.

'I knew you were still alive,' Charis told me later, when the excitement had diminished. 'At least I think I would have known if you had been dead. I would have felt it.'

She sat holding my hand in her lap, clutching it as if afraid to let it go lest she lose me again so soon. She beamed her pleasure, the light bright and shining in her eyes, and glowing from her face. I do not believe I had ever seen her so happy. Except for this, and the fact that she had once again adopted the fashion of the Fair Folk, she was unchanged.

'I am sorry,' I said. How many times had I said that already? 'Forgive me, I could not help myself. I never meant to hurt you, I -'

'Hush.' She bent her head and kissed my hand. 'It has all been said and forgiven. It is past and done.'

At these words, and the truth behind them, the tears started to my eyes once more. Could one ever be worthy of such love?

That night I slept in my old room and the next day went fishing with Avallach, sitting on the centre bench while he poled the flat-bottomed boat along the bank to his favourite place. The sun danced on the lake surface and the reeds nodded in the warm breeze; a heron stalked the green shallows, looking for frogs, and nervous moorhens jerked and clucked on the mossy shore, and I felt like a child of three once more.

'What was it like, Merlin?' Avallach asked me. He stood poised with the spear.

'To be insane?'

'To be alone with God,' he answered. 'I have often wondered what it would be like to be in his presence – to see and hear him, to worship at his feet.'

'Is that who you think I was alone with?' It shamed me to realize I had not acknowledged it before. But through years of contemplation Avallach had grown sensitive to the life of the spirit.

'Who else? The Great Lord himself,' he said happily, 'or one of his angels. Either way, a very great honour.' At that moment a fish flashed beneath the stern of the boat and Avallach's spear flashed in the same instant and he drew it back out of the water with a fine pike wriggling on the barbed tines.

As he carefully removed the fish, I sought a reply. Of course, I had been sustained in the wild. At the time I had never questioned it, considering that my years of living with the Hill Folk had stood me good stead in surviving in the wilderness. But even that, surely, had been the Good God's hand at work, preparing me.

And at last he had appeared to me – I knew that, and had not dared admit it to myself aloud. But Avallach had seen it, and accepted it with the greatest enthusiasm and just a little pious envy. I marvelled at his faith.

'You are fortunate among men, Merlin. Most fortunate.' He bent and took up the pole once more and pushed the boat further along the reed-grown bank. 'I, who would dearly love to spend but a moment in my Lord's presence, must content myself with visions of his sacred cup.'

He said this matter-of-factly, but he was as serious as he was sincere. 'You have seen it, too?' I asked, forgetting that I had never told him I had seen it myself.

'Ah, I thought so.' Grandfather winked at me. 'Then you know.'

'That it exists? Yes, I believe that it does.'

'Have you touched it?' he asked softly, reverently.

I shook my head. 'No. Like yours, mine was a vision.'

'Ah… ' He sat down in the boat and held the dripping pole across his knees. The quiet lapping of the water against the boat's hull and the chirking of a frog filled the silence. When he spoke again, it was as a man sharing a confidence with a brother; never before had he spoken to me like this.

'You know,' he said, 'I have believed until this moment that the Lord's Cup was denied me for the great sin of my life… '

'Surely, grandfather, your sins are no greater than any other man's. Far less, I should think, than many I could name. And you have Jesu's forgiveness… '

My attempt to ease his mind was a thin one, and it is doubtful he even heard me, for he continued, 'I gave life to Morgian.'

At the sound of the name my heart turned leaden in my chest. Morgian… what had she been up to while I was lost to the world of men? Something told me her hands had not been idle. I saw her as a black spider spinning webs of alluring death around her.

'Where is Morgian?' I asked, dreading the answer. I had to know.

Avallach sighed wearily. 'She is in the Orcades – a group of small islands in the northern sea. A good place for her, I think; at least she is far from here.'

I had heard of this island realm, called Ynysoedd Erch, in the British tongue: the Islands of Fear. And now I knew why. 'What does she there?'

The Fisher King sighed wearily. No one who has not so mourned can know the pain of a parent whose child has gone wrong. But he bore his torment like the king he was, neither pitying himself nor excusing himself. 'What Morgian does only Morgian knows. But we hear lately that she has married a man, a king named Loth, and has borne him children.

'I know nothing of the man nor his unfortunate spawn, but there are tales of great wickedness in the north, and terrors that defy description. It is Morgian's handiwork, of course, but what she intends I cannot guess.'

I could guess well enough what she intended. 'Is anything known of these children?'

'Only that they live. But no, there is no word… no certain word about any of this. Just traveller's tales and dark rumours.'

Morgian had learned patience, I will give her that. She was biding her time well, no doubt steeping herself in her craft and the forbidden lore of the ancients, gaining strength and black wisdom. She could wait, knowing perhaps that her best time to strike had not yet come. There would be chaos in the land soon, and she would have her chance. When she struck there would be no mistaking it.

It was clear to me from that moment that the problems of Britain could not be considered wholly apart from Morgian. The very fact that she had taken a Briton king as husband – the people of the Orcades are Briton rather than Pict or Irish – could only mean that her ambitions had blossomed since I had last seen her. Then she might have been content with a soul or two to torture, now she wanted an entire realm.

Great Light, be the strong shield before your warriors, be the very steel in their hands!

It occurred to me to use the seeing bowl to determine what Morgian was about. Although I shrank inwardly from an encounter with her, I could have done it. But it seemed best to me not to interfere or draw attention to myself in any way. I did not know what powers she possessed. Very likely, she already knew I was back among the living – if not, she soon would. Better to let her wait and wonder. It never serves to let an enemy know your strength and position.

'Listen to me, Avallach,' I told him. 'You have no reason to feel guilt for Morgian. You are not responsible for her evil.'

'Am I not?' He frowned as if something foul lay on his tongue. 'I gave her life, Merlin. Oh, what would I give if… if -'

'If and if and if! Do you hear yourself?' I said hotly. 'If cannot change w!'

He looked at me with mild reproach for my temper. 'No, nothing is changed, Merlin,' he said sadly. 'We all must bear our failures to the grave.'

We spoke no more about this and went on to talk of happier things. Still, I wondered why his words stirred such a response in me.

'But he does blame himself,' said Charis later when I told her about it. 'He believes himself responsible.'

'One man cannot make himself responsible for the actions of another,' I insisted.

Mother smiled. 'One did, once. Or have you forgotten? Is there anything to prevent it happening again?'

I had not forgotten, but I remembered it now anew, and in a slightly different light. Was Charis suggesting that Avallach might be contemplating an atoning act on behalf of Morgian? Here was something new to think about. 'You cannot let him do it,' I said earnestly. 'You must not.'

'Merlin,' she said soothingly, 'what is the matter? You are troubled, son. Tell me.'

I sighed and shook my head. 'It is nothing; it will pass.' For some reason I thought of Maelwys, and I asked about him. 'Tell me, how did Maelwys die?'

'There was an attack on Maridunum,' Charis explained. 'We fought off the invaders, having met them on the coast. The battle was over and he was returning to the villa with some of his men. There was an ambush and the villa was fired… '

As she spoke, my mind filled with images of such horror and pain that I trembled to see them. My mother broke off her recitation. 'Merlin, what is wrong?'

It was some moments before I could speak. 'There is great hardship coming,' I replied at last. 'Many will fall in the darkness and many more will be lost to it.' I regarded her grimly, hating what I had seen. 'Surely, no one alive now has ever endured such calamity.'

'I have, Merlin,' she said gently, answering the note of hopelessness in my voice. 'I have endured, and so has Avallach, and all the rest who came with us.'

'Mother, look around, there are few left now – fewer every year.'

It was a cruel thing to say. I do not know why I said it, and the instant the words were out of my mouth I would have given my eyes to have them back.

Charis nodded sadly. 'It is true, my Hawk. There are fewer of us every year. Maildun, my brother, died in the winter.' She lowered her eyes. 'We will not last. I used to hope that we might find a way to survive here; I thought that with your father – through Taliesin and I – we might survive in that way. But it was not to be. Yes, our days upon the land are nearly over and soon we will follow the rest of Earth's first children into the dust.'

'I am sorry, Mother. I should not have spoken so. Forgive me.'

'It is the truth, Merlin. You need never apologize for the truth.' She raised her head and looked me square in the eye, and I saw I was mistaken if I thought her words meant she had given up. 'But there is a greater Truth that must not be silenced ever: the Kingdom of Summer. As long as I am alive, it too is alive. And it lives in you, Merlin, and in all who believe and follow.'

The Kingdom of Summer… was it only a dream of paradise? Or could it be made real, here and now? Could men of flesh and blood inhabit such a place?

Once Taliesin had conceived it, had sung its shape in the heart, there could be no turning away from it. To deny the Summer Realm now would be to acquiesce to defeat, and ultimately to evil itself. For whenever the vision of a greater good has been proclaimed in the world of men, it must be striven for even unto death. Anything less is denial, and denial mocks the Great Light that inhabits the vision and gives it life. Turning away from good once it is known is wilfully turning towards evil.

Taliesin had set an enormous burden upon my shoulders, for it fell to me to bring the Summer Kingdom into being. Would that I had his voice, his gifts! I might have sung it into existence.

Look! I can see him with the harp in his hands, the shimmering notes spinning from his fingers, his face glowing with the reflected glory of his song… and oh! such a song, words streaming from his throat as through a living doorway from the Otherworld, his fair hair shining in the torchlight, the whole world still and breathless to hear the heartbreaking beauty of his song… I see him and I weep. Father! I never knew you!

I stayed at Ynys Avallach until the new moon and let the timeless serenity of the place reclaim my soul. I would have need of serenity in the turbulent days ahead.

Then, on a cool, bright morning, Pelleas and I rode out once more to begin the long, impossible task of saving the Island of the Mighty.