Merlin

EIGHTEEN

'Well, Merlin Ambrosius – Myrddin Emrys,' Lot said, finally. 'I am honoured.'

'Lord Lot, I did not expect you.'

'No, I suppose not. It seems no one expected me in Londinium.' His smile was sudden and sly. 'But I much prefer it that way.'

Uneasy silence reclaimed the room. I broke it at last, saying, 'Will you drink with me? Gradlon's wine is excellent.'

'I do not drink wine,' he said coolly. 'That is a luxury we do not allow ourselves in Orcady. And I have never developed the taste for southern vices.'

'Mead?' I offered. 'I am certain our host will oblige.'

'Beer,' he said, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. 'As you see, I am a man of simple pleasures.'

The mocking emphasis he gave the words suggested a wildly voracious appetite and brought to my mind images of unspeakable perversion. Yet he smiled as if it were a point of honour with him. He was his mother's son, and no doubt. I resisted the impulse to flee the room. The only reason I suffered him at all was to discover why he had come.

I motioned to Pelleas, standing protectively beside me, to bring the beer. Lot gestured to one of his men, who silently followed Pelleas from the room.

I saw no reason to prolong the pointless. 'Why have you come?' I asked. The bluntness of my question amused him.

'And the beer not even in the cups,' he chided good-naturedly. 'Why, cousin, since you ask, I will tell you. There is only one reason to venture so far from the balmy borders of my sun-favoured realm. Surely you can guess.'

'The others are here to win the High Kingship, but I cannot think you hope to gain that for yourself.'

'Do you think me unworthy?'

'I think you unknown."

'Your tact is celebrated.' Lot tossed back his head and laughed. Pelleas, shadow looming, entered with the cups. He offered the guest cup to Lot, who took it and splashed a few drops over the rim for the god of the hearth. He drank deeply and with zeal.

Then, handing the cup to the first of his men, he wiped his mouth with his fingertips and fixed me with a fierce gaze. 'My mother warned me you would be difficult. I wondered if you had lost your will to cross blades.'

'You have not answered my question, Lot.'

He shrugged. 'All my life I have heard of Londinium. So, fancying a sea-voyage, I said to my chieftains, "Let us go and see this wonder for ourselves. If we like it, perhaps we will stay." Imagine our surprise when we discovered a king choosing taking place.'

His whole demeanour was mockery. But I detected a thread of truth in his answer: he did not know about the king choosing when he set out from Orcady. He had come for an altogether different reason and had learned of the council somewhere along the way – perhaps, as he said, only upon his arrival. Still, I reflected, he had not answered the question I asked.

I sipped from my cup and then passed it on. 'Now that you are here, what will you do?'

'That, unless I am far wrong, will very much depend upon how I am treated.'

'I find that I am generally treated as well as I treat others.'

'Oh, but it is not so simple for some of us as that, dear cousin. Would that it were.' He sniffed unhappily. 'Ah, but you would know little of the adversity lesser mortals must endure.'

Was he trying to provoke me? I thought it likely, though could perceive no reason for it. 'Is your life so burdensome to you?' I asked, not expecting any particular reaction. But, as if I had fingered a very raw and painful wound, Lot winced. His eyes narrowed and his smile grew tight.

'Burdensome is not the word I would choose,' he replied stiffly. 'Where is that cup?' He reached for it and took it from the hand of one of his men, tossing back the remaining draught. 'Empty so soon? Then we must leave,' he said, and walked to the door.

Reaching the doorway, he paused, saying, 'You know, Myrddin, I had hoped our first meeting would be different.' He turned abruptly and started away.

I can, when I choose to, make my command almost irresistible. I made it so now. 'Do not leave!" I called after him. Lot halted. He stood for a moment and then turned round slowly, as if expecting a swordpoint against his throat.

The uncertainty of that gesture argued eloquently for him. He was an untried boy playing bravely at being a king, and I was moved with compassion for him. 'We should not part like this,' I told him.

His grey-blue eyes searched mine for any hint of deception – I think he was a master of discerning it – but found none in me. 'How would you have us part?' His tone was wary, testing.

'As friends.'

'I have no friends in this place.' It was an unthinking response; nevertheless, I know he believed it.

'You can hold to that,' I replied, 'or accept my friendship and prove yourself wrong.'

'I am not often proved wrong, Emrys. Farewell.' His men followed him and in a moment I heard the clatter of hooves in the street and they were gone.

Pelleas closed the door, and then turned to me. 'He is a dangerous man, my lord Myrddin. The more so because he is confused.'

I knew Pelleas to possess no mean ability in weighing out the character of a man. 'Confused, there is no doubt. But I do not think he intends me harm. I am not certain he knows what he intends.'

My companion shook his head slowly. 'The man who does not know his own heart is a man to be feared. Have nothing to do with him, my lord.' Then he spoke my own misgivings. 'Who can say how Morgian has twisted the youth?'

If my meeting with Lot was disconcerting, my dinner with Ygerna was all delight. She had dressed in her finest clothes, and, in the glimmering, golden sheen of light from a hundred candles – light that Ygerna herself seemed to radiate – she appeared more lovely than I had ever seen her.

She kissed me as I entered the room where a table had been set up, and took my hands and led me to a chair. 'Myrddin, I was afraid you would not come tonight and I would be disappointed.'

'How so, my lady? Had you eaten as many suppers cold by the side of the lonely road as I have, you would never let pass an opportunity to dine in comfort. And were you a man, you would never disappoint a lady as beautiful as I see before me, my queen.'

She blushed with the innocent pride of a maid. 'Dear Myrddin,' she murmured, then stopped suddenly. 'You have not brought the sword?' Ygerna looked at my hands as if expecting to see it there.

'I have not forgotten,' I replied. 'Pelleas will bring it later. I thought it best not to be seen carrying it with me. Someone might notice.'

'A wise thought.' Sitting me in my chair, she turned to the table and poured wine into two silver cups. She knelt beside -i my chair and offered one to me; it was the formal gesture of ' a servant to a lord. I made a movement of protest, but she held out the cup, saying, 'Allow me to serve you tonight. Please, it is small enough repayment for the kindness in all you have done for me.'

I shook my head gently. 'All I have done? My lady, you honour me too highly. I have done nothing to warrant such affection.'

'Indeed? Then I will tell you, shall I? When everyone else thought me a foolish girl, you treated me as a woman and the equal of any man. You have ever been my true friend, Myrddin. And true friendship, for a woman, is difficult to find in this world.' She pressed the cup into my hand with her cool fingers. 'Let us drink together in friendship.'

We drank, and then she rose and began setting the meal on the board. I allowed her ministrations to me and it made her happy. It saddens me now to admit that the kindness she referred to had been extended to her not because she was Ygerna, and therefore worthy of such consideration: no, it was that she was Aurelius' bride, or Uther's wife. In truth, I had given her no particular consideration as a fellow human being; but so barren was her life on that seabound rock that my small courtesies loomed large with her. I thought of this and my shame overwhelmed me.

Great Light, we are blind men all of us; slay us and be done with it!

Oh, Ygerna, trusting heart, if you only knew. That she loved where she should rightly despise was her glory. I think I did not taste a single bite of the meal she laid before me. But I know I have seldom enjoyed a repast more. Ygerna fairly shone in her beauty and happiness.

In this, I should have had my warning of what she was planning. Although it is likely that Ygerna herself did not yet know. I believe that she acted out of the pureness of her heart and there was no other motive.

Pelleas was mistaken; one who did not know what he intended might be turned to the light as easily as the darkness. Good is always possible, and redemption is never more distant than the next breath. Somehow, Ygerna reminded me of this.

All the same, when Pelleas arrived with Uther's sword and I realized how quickly the evening had passed, I bade Ygerna good night and stepped out into a star-filled night without the slightest suspicion of what would take place on the morrow.

The next morning the kings assembled in the church once more. And once more, as at all the other times, Dunaut and Morcant devised to hobble the proceedings with insulting and outrageous demands. If they could not realize their ambitions in council, at least they might provoke the others to arms and win in that way. It was all the same to them.

But from the beginning that day's events took shape differently. Ygerna and Lot were present and the others were forced to take account of them. As Dunaut was wanning to his long harangue, Ygerna simply rose from the chair that had been added to the circle for her, and stood.

She stood until Dunaut, distracted by her quiet presence, stopped and acknowledged her. 'My lords,' he sneered, 'it appears that Queen Ygerna wishes to speak. Perhaps she does not understand the proper observances of this assembly.'

'Oh, indeed,' she replied. 'I have observed much in the short time since I have joined this noble assembly. It appears to me that the only way to be heard is to shout at the top of one's lungs while impugning the characters of those present. That, I think, would avail me little, so I stand and wait to be recognized.'

'Lady,' said Dunaut in an exasperated tone, 'I yield to you.' Coolly, but politely, she dismissed him. 'Thank you, Lord Dunaut.'

It must have taken all her strength of will to appear so calm and self-possessed. But there was no trace of fear or hesitancy in her manner; indeed, anyone would have thought dealing with power-mad kings was all her world. 'I am Uther's widow,' she began, speaking slowly and forcefully, 'and before that I was Aurelius' widow. No other woman, I think, has shared meat and bed with two High Kings.'

Some of the kings laughed nervously. But, though she smiled, Ygerna did not allow them to make light of her. For, she continued, 'No other woman can claim to be twice High Queen of Britain… and no other woman knows what I know.'

That stopped them. The lords had not considered that Uther and Aurelius might have confided their secrets to her. They surely considered it now; I could almost hear them grunting under the strain of guessing what she might know.

'We are at war here, my lords. We do battle here among ourselves while the Saecsen send out the husting.' This revelation, spoken by one so fair and self-assured, sobered them. 'Oh, yes, it is true. Or did you think that when news of Uther's death reached them they would lay down their weapons and weep?

'I tell you, they weep for joy to hear it. They gather the warhost and soon they will come.' She paused, gathering every eye to herself. 'But this you already know, my lords. I have not come here to tell you that which you already know.'

Blessed girl, she had them like fish in a net. What would she say next?

She raised a hand and Kadan, her adviser, came to her holding a cloth-wrapped bundle. He placed the bundle in her hands and then took his stand behind her. Ygerna stepped to the centre of the floor, and held the bundle well up, so all could see. Then she began unwinding the cloth.

Gold and silver flashed beneath the wrappings and all at once the cloth fell away to reveal what I knew to be hidden there: the Sword of Britain.

'This,' she said, lifting the sword, 'was Uther's sword, as it was Aurelius' sword; but once, long ago, it belonged to the first High King in the Island of the Mighty. And each High King has held it since, save one -' she meant Vortigern, of course, ' – for this is the sword of Maximus the Great, Emperor of Britain and Gaul.'

She turned slowly, so that all could see that it was, without doubt, the Emperor's famed blade. Light from the narrow, high-cut windows fell in long, slanting rays, catching the blade and setting fire to the great eagle-carved amethyst.

Oh yes, they recognized it: the lust glinting sharp in their eyes told all. Dunaut's right hand actually fondled the hilt at his side, as he imagined what it must be to wear the Imperial weapon as his own. Other hands twitched, too, and eyes narrowed to see the play of light along that cold, tapering length of polished steel.

The sanctuary fell silent as Ygerna raised the sword in both hands above her head. 'My lords, this is the Sword of Britain and it is shameful to fight over it like hounds over a gristlebone!'

Then, lowering the sword, point first to the floor, she folded her hands over the hilt, slowly knelt and bowed her head.

I do not know what she prayed. No one does. But, whatever the words, there could have been few more heartfelt prayers uttered in that church before or since.

I see her still, kneeling there in the ring of kings. Her blue cloak is folded upon her shoulder; her tore glints at her slender throat; her long fingers are interlaced around the golden hilt; the great jewel touches her fair brow. The light falling around her enfolds her in a holy embrace.

If the kings were embarrassed by her words, they were mortified by her example. Heartless indeed was the man among them who could look upon that innocent sight and not feel remorse and shame. Guilt made them dumb.

At last, her prayer finished, she rose and, holding the sword before her, began walking slowly round the ring.

'Lords of Britain,' she called, her voice loud and sure, 'this sword belongs to the one who has never sought to advance himself over any other, the one in whom the vision of our realm burns most brightly, whose wisdom has been valued by high and low alike, whose strength as a leader and prowess in battle is sung in timber halls and wattle huts from one end of this world's-realm to the other… '

Ygerna had stopped before me.

'My lords, I give it now into his hand. Let those among you who would take it wrest it from him!'

So saying, she put the sword into my hand and held it there with both of hers. 'There,' she whispered, 'let them try to undo that.'

'Why?' My voice was harsh with astonishment.

'You would never have spoken for yourself.'

She turned to the assembly and called, 'Who will join me in swearing fealty to our High King?'

Ygerna knelt down and stretched her hands forth to touch my feet in the age-old gesture. The lords looked on, but no one made a move to join her.

Time slid away and it began to appear as if Ygerna's noble gesture would be reviled. Standing or seated, they stubbornly held their places. The silence turned stone-hard with defiance.

Poor Ygerna, made to look a fool by their haughty refusal to acknowledge me. I could have wept for the beautiful futility of it.

But, then, just as it seemed as if she must withdraw, across the floor someone stirred. I looked up. Lot rose slowly to his feet. He stood for a moment and then walked to me, his eyes on mine as he came. 'I will swear fealty,' he announced, his voice echoing full in the vaulted room. He sank to his knees beside Ygerna.

Lot's example amazed the kings even more than Ygerna's. They stared in disbelief – as I did myself. However, two against all the rest is not enough to make a man High King.

But Custennin had stepped forward, too. 'I will swear him fealty,' he called in a loud voice. And the next voice to break silence was Tewdrig's. Both men knelt before me, and were joined by their chieftains. Eldof of Eboracum and Rhain of Gwynedd came next with their advisers, and all swore fealty and knelt. Ceredigawn and his men did likewise.

Had it been another time, or another man, it might have gone differently. Though, I believe that what happened that bright morning was ordained from the beginning.

Dunaut and Morcant, and their contentious ilk, were strong. They would never bring themselves to bend the knee to me, and I knew it. As it was, the kings were divided in their support of me, and more were against me than for me.

I could not be High King. And no, no, I did not desire it. Nevertheless, I had the support of good men. Now, at least, I had leave to act.

'Lords and Kings of Britain,' I said, taking up the sword. 'Many among you have proclaimed me High King -'

'Many others have not!' cried Dunaut. 'Everyone knows you have not lifted so much as a knifeblade in years.'

I ignored him.' – And though I could persist in furthering my claim, I will not.'

This stunned nearly everyone, and emboldened Dunaut, who called, 'I say we must choose one who is not afraid to raise the sword in battle.'

I did not let this go unchallenged. 'Do you think me afraid? Does anyone think Myrddin Emrys afraid to use this weapon as it was intended? If that is what you believe step forth and we will put your faith to the test!'

No one was foolish enough to accept my challenge.

'So, it is as I thought,' I told them, 'you believe otherwise. You know it is not for fear that I have refrained from taking up the sword, but because I learned the lessons of war long ago: that a man can kill only so many enemies – so many Saecsens, so many Picti, so many Irish.

'And then there are more Saecsens, more Picti, more Irish and I tell you that though rivers run red with the blood of the foeman and skies blacken with the smoke of their burning corpses they cannot all be killed.'

I felt a stirring in my blood. Words began to burn in my breast.

'This sword is Britain,' I declared, lofting it. 'My claim is no less worthy than any other lord's, and better than some. Yet I am not the man to hold it. He who holds this sword will hold Britain, and he must hold it in a firm and unfaltering grasp.

'Therefore, from this day I will put away the sword, that I may serve and strengthen him who must wield it.

'But I tell you the truth, this sword will not be won by vanity. It will not be gained by arrogance or stiff-necked pride. And it will not be won by one man advancing himself over the bodies of his friends.

The Imperial Sword of Britain will be won by the one king among you who will bend his back to lift other men; it will be gained by the king who puts off pride and arrogance, who puts off vanity and puffed-up ambition, and takes to himself the humility of the lowest stable hand; it will be earned by the man who is master of himself and servant of all.'

These words were not my own; the bard's awen was on me now and, like a fountain pouring forth its gifts unbidden, my tongue gave utterance of its own volition. I spoke and my voice rang out like sounding iron, like a harp struck by an unseen hand.

'Bear witness, all you kings, these are the marks of the man who will make this sword his own:

'He will be a man such as other men will die for; he will love justice, uphold righteousness, do mercy. To the haughty he will be bold, but tender to the meek and downcast. He will be a king such as has never been in this worlds-realm: the least man in his camp shall be a lord, and his chieftains shall be kings of great renown. Chief Dragon of Britain, he shall stand head and shoulders above the rulers of this world in kindness, no less than in valour; in compassion, no less than in prowess. For he will carry the True Light of God in his heart.

'From his eyes will fly fiery embers; each finger on his hand will be as a strong steel band, and his sword-arm judgment's lightning. All men alive in the Island of the Mighty will bow the knee to him. Bards will feast on his deeds, become drunk on his virtue, and sing out unending praises that the knowledge of his reign will reach all lands.

'As long as earth and sky endure, his glory will be in the mouths of men who love honour and peace and goodness. As long as this world lasts, his name will live, and as long as eternity his spirit will endure.

'I, Myrddin Emrys, prophesy this.'

For the space of a dozen heartbeats no one dared speak against me. But the moment passed; the awen moved on. A shout snapped the silence.

'Empty words!' cried Dunaut. 'I demand a sign!'

Coledac and others, too, joined in: 'How will we know this king? There must be a sign.'

I suppose it was only the grasping of drowning men after straws. But it angered me. I could not abide them even a moment longer. Seeing nothing, knowing nothing but the blood-red cast of rage, I fled the church, the sword still in my hand. They all ran after me, their voices bleating in my ears. I did not listen and I did not turn back.

There in the yard before the doorway, where the masons were at work on the arch, lay the enormous keystone. Taking the hilt in my fist, I raised the sword over my head.

'No!' screamed Dunaut wildly. 'Stop him!'

But no one could stop me. I thrust the Sword of Britain down towards that unyielding stone…

The astonishment on their faces made me look as well. The sword had not broken: it stood upright, quivering, buried nearly to the hilt and stuck fast in the stone.