Dirty Villains

by Cheri Marie

  “Can I see my nephew sister?” Merlin asks without answering any of my questions. He lets me go and walks across the room to stand over Arthur’s cradle. “Uther’s son, of course, makes sense now.” I just make out as I sit in the chair beside the cradle. Merlin takes off his gloves and strokes my son’s cheek with his finger. “You will be something of legends little one.” Merlin bestows a strange blessing onto Merlin and I feel the magic take root as the wind made its way through closed windows.

  Merlin looks at me and smiles that same boyish smile I remember. “Mim, I am happy you are well. I know about the village—Mom.. Dad.. all of it gone. Burnt to the ground and the field salted. The Christians mean to rule over the old ways and we may have to compromise if we want to live to see the day Arthur rules.” Merlin’s stammers at the beginning but his voice holds passion when he speaks of Arthur. He stands his full height looking impressive as his voice carried through the room. “Uther is a fool. He can stop the fighting at the moment and build toward an alliance with his rival, thus holding back the Christians for a time. Drummond has only ever wanted one thing, and that is a night with Igraine. She was betrothed to him before his father’s death. He has lusted after her all these years.” Merlin carried on matter-of-factly. “She is barren so it matters not and she will be known as your son’s mother throughout history or some other woman. You know that, right?” His rude question annoys me but I think about how Igraine could actually achieve peace with her body. Would she do it? Oh but I know just how to make it so if I could bring myself to do it.

  We discuss old times staying away from sore subjects such as Mother or Father. We laugh and joke as we did in the old times, but something about Merlin’s searching eyes made me watch him more closely. He tells me there is a prophecy about my son and that he will bring about the change needed in the world. Well if that was true, I was happy to be able to be a part of his life and the one that would mold him to be ready when destiny called for him. I could be content with Igraine being “legally” Arthur’s mother. He would get the best of both worlds and I could teach him things that she never could. I ask Merlin to stay at the castle and counsel Uther, and when Arthur is old enough Merlin could be his teacher.

  Chapter Ten

  Uther returns as winter throws off its white blanket and patches of flowers take root and begin to bloom. Most of his soldiers return home with him and they are all greeted by women waving ribbons and banners of the House of Pendragon. The streets are littered with people as they push and shove to get a good look at their returning King—and trying to see if their husbands, brothers, or sons had returned safely home. Igraine and I are waiting on the steps of the palace waiting to greet our King. I held a squirming Arthur in my arms. Merlin stood just inside the door with Wolfy sitting at his feet. Merlin asked to be introduced after Uther was welcomed home and had a chance to wash.

  Uther greets the people warmly waving and smiling at everyone he passed. As he makes his way to the steps, he greets Igraine with a chaste kiss, turning to me he bows his head as he reaches for the son he hasn’t yet met. He holds Arthur up so all can see claiming in a loud voice that he was happy to be home and presented to his son and heir, Arthur Pendragon. The crowd cheers at the formal declaration of the boy’s paternity and I hear a deafening cheer for “The Marvelous Madam Mim.”

  The people of Pendragon loved me for my honesty and hard work. I was known to cure many of those who felt death breathing down their necks and I had delivered half the children darting through the legs of adults trying to peek at their magnificent King Uther. I didn’t mind walking amongst them which I did regularly. I knew the people better than Igraine since she held herself aloof as if she was better than them.

  A smile crosses my face as I stand tall with pride. My son will one day rule Pendragon and all its dominions. By the old gods, I will bring my son up to know the old ways even if Igraine raises him in the new. I hear a soft cawing and look toward the sky. My raven flies overhead encircling the happy crowd cheering their King and Prince. Igraine stands erect, her hands held in front of her body resting on her stomach, a serene smile on her face as her steely eyes watch Uther with Arthur.

  Uther lays between my legs as I run the sponge down his body using a soap specially made to help soothe aches and pains. He lets out a sigh as he rubs my wet leg. As soon as he saw the full tub he dragged me down in it clothes and all. His hungry mouth finds mine. His deft fingers undo my stays and my drippy clothes fall with a wet smack against the floor. I see all the old and new scars crisscrossing his body. I take my time kissing each scar as Uther writhes with pleasure. Taking his long sword in my mouth, I lick his pulsating shaft from root to tip. Uther pulls at my hair as he starts to shake releasing his pent-up juices down my throat.

  Nuzzling my neck, Uther whispers, “I have missed you, woman.”

  I wrap my legs and arms around his hard body. “I have missed you, sire,” my voice raspy with emotion. I make no mention of Igraine’s plans, but then again I was pretty sure Uther knew of his wife’s plans. He would have to ensure Arthur’s future even if it meant Arthur being raised as Uther and Igraine’s son.

  “My brother is excited to meet you at dinner,” I warned Uther as he dressed in clean clothing. “I thought it would be nice if he could tutor Arthur when the time comes,” I mention during this blissful moment to ensure the answer I want to hear.

  Uther looks at me seriously contemplating my request. “I suppose that will make you happy?” He questions playfully. I slap at his arm as he teases me.

  “You know it will. It will give him a reason to stick around and Arthur could not have a more learned man to teach him,” I speak resolutely on the matter hoping my conviction will sway Uther.

  His answer brings me much satisfaction. “Your brother is welcome to Pendragon and when the time comes he may tutor our son.” I stand naked as the day I was born, tiptoeing to reach his lips I give him a kiss to show my gratitude. I dash behind the tapestry that hides a door that adjoins to my room, giving my king access whenever he wished.

  As I walked in my warm room, a plump woman sat holding Arthur and feeding him from her white engorged breast. I watch as my son sucks at this woman’s tit, almost feeling jealousy and envy of being a simple woman, but I shake the thought from my head as I step toward the large woman and my son. The woman hands the milk drooling babe to me as she laces the front of her dress, bobbing her head at me as she walks out the door. I nestled Arthur to me taking in his smell. His little fingers wrap around mine and his eyes look at me knowingly. The heavy set woman returns to watch after Arthur as I join the feast below. I stroke his downy cheek and lay a kiss on his forehead before I leave.

  Uther enjoyed dinner immensely—as he told the hall of his jaunting adventure. The people cheered when Uther came out on top. Igraine sat stiffly beside Uther as I sat to his right happy and warm with drink and Uther’s company. My brother sits and talks amongst the men who battled alongside their lord. There are spontaneous outbursts of drunken huzzah’s raised in Uther’s and his son’s honor.

  By the end of the night, many men and woman lay haphazardly around the trestles of the great hall—some even passed out right where they stood falling to the floor with a loud thud then snores. I head to the garderobe to empty my full bladder when I spy Uther and Merlin walking the garden in deep conversation. Hopefully, they will be fast friends and we can be a family again. It had been awhile since I had read the cards, my fingers itched to feel their warmth, but I didn’t want to know the future at this moment. I didn’t want to shake the feeling of contentment that spread throughout my body. So the cards lay in their sheepskin sack stuck underneath a loosened board in the floor of my room.

  The following day I was summoned to Uther’s throne room, a place I had only seen from the outside doors. My maid helps me fasten my best court dress, then pulls my silky black hair into an intricate loop around my head. She adds a net of gold to cover my head before we both were happy with the way I loo
ked. As I step to the doors of the throne room, the carved dragon seems to snake across the door. My hands are sweaty and I wipe them on the back of my dress before standing tall with my chin up looking straight ahead as if being called to the throne room was something that occurred every day. The door opens—Uther sits on his unforgiving hard stone throne while Merlin stands behind the throne. Igraine is sitting beside Uther on her smaller throne. The floor shines like liquid metal as the candles flicker.

  As I step closer to the trio, a nervous smile threatens to burst across my face. I keep my head down so that no one will mistake my smile for smugness or anything else. The whole court stands around in broken circles as they watch me make my way to the King. I know some whisper behind their hands at me, especially the womenfolk who have converted to Christianity. They felt my wanton ways only distracted their king from doing the right thing for Pendragon.

  They are fools I remind myself as I walk past a group of tight-lipped women wearing crosses across their chests. I peer up through my lashes and Uther’s smile lights of up his face. He waves me on to hurry as Igraine looks bored. Merlin’s hand rests on Uther’s throne while he runs his fingers through Wolfy’s fur. I know without looking that my raven was perched high in the rafters watching everything unfold.

  Chapter Eleven

  My long dress rustles as I quicken my steps. No sense in making Uther wait in front of his whole court. The low hum of whispers grows quiet when I curtsey to Uther and Igraine. Uther pushes himself up onto his feet and he steps down a step so that he is standing right in front of me.

  “Madam Mim, I asked for you to attend upon us today to discuss our royal son. The Queen has gifted you a wing of the palace to be outfitted to your likings. Our son is to be your ward until he is old enough to be placed in the stronger hands of capable men. However, until that time comes, you have sole responsibility to our son. We hope this pleases you and that our request has made you happy,” he adds as he looks about the room, pleased that he could honor me in this small way.

  I brush away the tears trying to swallow the hard lump in my throat. “I am deeply honored, my Lord and Lady. I am truly humbled that you would allow me this time with our son,” I look to Igraine as I speak my last comment.

  I keep myself busy with the plans for renovating the dilapidated wing Igraine so graciously gifted me. I didn’t care though. I worked alongside the architects, the painters, sculptors, and brick makers. I was fascinated by their trades and it gave Arthur time to roam the gardens on his unsteady legs. They were so chunky that he appeared bowlegged which Igraine was sure would have to be fixed by a surgeon, until I finally snapped and told her no fucking barber would lay a finger on my son—if in time—his legs did not straighten out then he was destined to be a warrior king—riding his horse at breakneck speeds to save his people when they were in trouble. My vulgarity shocked her so that she stood for a few moments, mouth agape like a toad trying to catch insects. Then angrily she spun away from me stomping down the hallway like a fishmonger’s wife.

  It wasn’t long before my truly marvelous wing was finished. Arthur, Merlin, and I shuttled our belonging from one side of the palace to my very own wing—away from the malice stares from the Christians. Sometimes I feared for mine and Arthur’s safety, Merlin warned that Arthur would need sharp eyes watching out for him because there were many who would want his downfall before he has a chance to prove he would be a good King. Arthur and his nurse settle in his rooms. He points at the painted butterflies dancing across his walls. There are chunky cherubs hiding in the trees while a maid sits by a running creek collecting water. I had one of the rooms built as a library to hold my growing collection of scrolls and other books.

  I sat by the cold hearth reading a book on ancient lore when Merlin walks into my library. He looks around nodding his appreciation as he fingers through old parchments. I look over my book to see Merlin pick up something and head to the chair opposite of me. He hardly speaks and I figure this is because of the time spent in the forest alone with just a wolf for companionship. We sit in comfortable silence listening to Arthur’s loud chatter and the racing footfalls of his nurse chasing him through the airy rooms.

  Uther visited at night-- spending much of his free time with Arthur before leaving out again. Drummond was threatening a major port town which was how Pendragon received its many goods. Uther couldn’t allow Drummond to capture the town cutting us off from such a lucrative income of wealth. The leaves begin to turn red and gold as they fall to the ground while Uther and his troops packed horses and wagons for their journey to Tintagel, the main port bringing in goods from other places of the world.

  Arthur had started walking and talking and could be found on his father’s heels or sitting at his mother’s feet while she told him stories about the gods and how they came to be. I was forced to accept Igraine’s visits with Arthur. She would sit on the floor and play with his wooden horses and soldiers. She would have been a good mother and I feel sorry for her, at that moment. What would it hurt for Arthur to have two mothers who loved and worshipped him?

  We all stood tall and proud, hiding the tears and fears that Uther might not return this time. Arthur cries as Uther tells him he is to remain with the women to keep us safe. Uther pecks Igraine's cheek, as she lays her hand on top of his redhead, praying her god will keep her husband safe. Uther grabs me and pulls me to him, the sun warms his armor and it bites into my skin as Uther hugs me tightly.

  "Keep them safe," he pleads softly in my ear. The prickly hair on his upper lip tickles my ear. I squeeze his hand afraid if I opened my mouth that it would release the flood of tears and cowardly words begging him to stay. He kisses me and sweeps Igraine and I a low bow before climbing onto the huge horse snorting and ready for a fight. Uther rides off in a storm of dust as the wind blows in strange looking clouds—dark; rolling clouds stacked on top of one another—which looked like a shelf of clouds.

  “There’s a bad storm blowing in,” Merlin mutters rubbing his hands together. My feathered friend sings frantically as he descends from the darkening sky. There’s definitely something bad brewing but I had a feeling it was much more than a storm we would have to worry about. Igraine walks back into the castle with Arthur leading the way. His nurse trails them ready to take the young lord away in case he becomes bothersome. I turn to say something to Merlin but he is gone so I step inside the castle. The freshly strewn rushes smell sweet and woodsy and I inhale the aroma remembering the god’s forest from my childhood.

  Rubbing my chilled arms as I walk the corridor leading to the west wing, I notice that the moons on my palm have grown fuller than I had ever seen. I begin to wonder if I should show Merlin. Why did Bran brand my palm with the moons? They must be a warning of something bad to come. I begin to quicken my pace hoping to find Merlin. I burst through the doors leading to my side of the castle. The door has the tree of life carved into it as well as different rune symbols meant for protection.

  The rooms are warm as I walk through them searching for my brother. The fires spit and pop releasing the smell of an open forest. I take a look in Arthur’s room finding it as empty as the other rooms. He was probably still playing with Igraine, she had a love for animals and had collected various species from visiting foreigners, Arthur enjoyed walking with her asking questions about each animal.

  I take towards the main hall to see if Merlin was sitting with the other men left behind, but the hall is empty. I checked the gardens, the alehouse, the kitchens but Merlin wasn’t to be found at any of those places. I decide to visit with Igraine and spend time with my son until Merlin turned up. I find Igraine in her rooms with her women, sewing an altar cloth for the new church Igraine had built. I scan the room for Arthur as I curtsey.

  “My lady, is Arthur still with you?” I ask trying to keep my voice calm. If he wasn’t with Igraine, he would be in the care of his nurse. Our paths probably crossed as I made my way across the castle.

  Igraine takes her eyes from the
task at hand. “Your brother fetched him shortly after we returned inside. I assumed he was taking him back to you as he sent the nurse away for a bit.” She frowns in consternation and bites her lip. “You have checked your rooms?” She questions as she quickly stands while the white altar cloth slides to the floor. She dismisses the ladies with a wave of her hand. “We will search together,” she smiles at me as she pats me on the shoulder.

  Chapter Twelve

  We searched everywhere and still no Merlin or Arthur. My knees shake as a hard pit forms deep within my belly. Igraine speaks to the servants but no one had seen hide nor hair of either one since seeing Uther off earlier. Neither of us wants to believe that Merlin has stolen our son, so we both decide to carry on as normal and wait for them to show up. Igraine heads to her rooms to dress for supper as I head to Merlin’s room to see if I could find anything.

  The room is immaculate—not a thing out of place. There are no clothes, no books, nothing. I check every nook and cranny trying to fight back the urge to scream. I want to tear Merlin’s heart out of his chest. I want him to watch as his life force drains from his body by the hand of his twin sister. How dare he take my son without talking to anyone first. Arthur is still only a child. I had one more year with him until he was old enough to start his training.

  “Squawk!” My beaked companion beats his wings as he lets out another shrill cry. Bran! Bran would know where Merlin has taken my son, but will he answer me hear surrounded by the persistent prayers of the converted Christians. I had to try something.

  I turn to walk out of Merlin’s room, but my raven refuses to leave. “Come, we will head to the garden and summon Bran,” I say to the raven hoping no one walks by to hear me talking to the squawking blackbird. His feathers ruffled as he constantly squeaks and squawks in the same spot. Silly bird, I will just go to the gardens myself. I don’t have time for this foolishness. I turn my back on the bird stepping over the threshold of my brother’s door. I hear my bird take flight and wait for him to rest on my shoulder, yet he releases a papery thin card and I watch it drift to the floor. Picking the card up, I begin to tremble as I notice it is the ten of swords. No!! No!! The scream echoes through my body. Loss, betrayal, and defeat were what this card held.