Grail pc-5

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  We hauled the unresisting Irishman down from the saddle, whereupon he seemed to come to himself once more, insisting that he could walk and would not be lugged into the hall like a sack of grain. He grew so adamant that we let him have his way. Truly, I think he had been nursing his strength for this moment; he was that proud he did not wish to be seen in his weakness by his swordbrothers, nor could he bear causing his beloved queen even a moment's worry.

  As it happened, he need not have concerned himself. The hall was empty: no Cymbrogi to be seen, and few of Avallach's folk, either. Rhys, to all appearances, was king of the rock, and held dominion over the few who came and went. He called a command to one of the young Fair Folk lads I saw hurrying away on some errand; the fellow spun on his heel and raced to obey.

  Had I given the matter more than a fleeting thought, I would have expected our arrival to occasion greater interest than we had so far received. 'Where is everyone?' I asked as we stepped into the empty hall.

  'The plague has worsened in the southlands,' Rhys replied. 'Charis and most of the monks have gone to Londinium to join Paulus in the fight. Lord Avallach is at his prayers. As for the others, they will return when it gets dark.'

  'Well and good,' I told him. 'But where are they now?'

  Rhys called for the welcome cup, and then turned to look at me. 'I thought you knew.'

  'How should I know?' I countered sourly. 'And unless someone tells me, I fear I shall die in ignorance.'

  'They are at the shrine,' Rhys replied, as if we should have known.

  'We saw no one at the shrine,' I told him bluntly, 'or I would not have asked.'

  'Not that shrine,' Rhys said, 'the new one – Arthur's shrine. The king is building a shrine to the cup.'

  Llenlleawg, flanked by the two young warriors, drew up beside us. 'What cup would that be?'

  'The Holy Cup.' Rhys paused and regarded us dubiously. 'Do none of you know any of this?'

  I reminded him that we had journeyed all the way from Llyonesse – on foot most of the way – and were not of a mood to appreciate riddles.

  'It is to be the Grail Shrine,' Rhys announced tersely. 'The Pendragon has decreed a shrine to be built to house the Holy Cup, which he has taken as the sign and emblem of his reign. Arthur believes a great blessing will flow from this Grail to the benefit of Britain, and of all the world.'

  'Is this the same cup that healed Arthur?' asked Peredur.

  'One and the same,' confirmed Rhys.

  'I know the cup you mean,' I said, as the memory came winging back to me as from a great distance. 'You mean to say that you have seen it?'

  'No one has seen it,' Rhys replied, 'save Avallach, Myrddin, and, now, Arthur. Avallach knows where it is – he keeps it hidden somewhere, I think. Now you know as much as anyone else about it.'

  The boy appeared bearing the requested welcome bowl. Rhys took it, raised it, spoke a word of greeting, and delivered the bowl into my hands. I passed it at once to Llenlleawg, and waited for the others to finish before taking it up once more. The ale was cool, dark, and frothy, soothing my parched tongue and throat like milk mixed with honey. I drank a long draught and, with great reluctance, passed it along once more. The bowl made the round again, and Rhys said he would have food brought so that we might refresh ourselves while we waited for the others.

  'Now I must send for Myrddin,' he told us, preparing to dash away once more. 'He has spent the last three days telling everyone to bring word the moment you returned.'

  FOURTEEN

  'No doubt this new shrine has everyone occupied,' Tallaght mumbled, staring into the empty cup as into a fresh grave.

  Alone with a dry bowl in a deserted hall, we sat glumly considering our sorry homecoming. Haggard and harried, grey with dust, bone weary, we wore every step of our peculiar journey on our clothes and on our faces.

  'Well,' remarked Peredur, 'it is not as if anyone knew we would be returning just now. Even so…'

  Llenlleawg, above remarking on his disappointment, said nothing, but closed his eyes and bowed his head, fatigued and dispirited. The one welcome he sought above all others – that of his king – and for which he had rallied his dwindling strength, was denied him, and exhaustion was rapidly overtaking him.

  'There will be time enough for glad greetings,' I told them, trying to put a more favourable face on the thing. 'As for me, I can think of nothing better than a bite to eat and a quiet drink before meeting the others.'

  The food arrived a few moments later, and upon sending the serving boy back to refill the bowl, we fell to eating, content with a little peaceful quiet to soothe our wearied souls. We ate in silence, and I was just reaching for a second barley loaf when I heard quick, purposeful footsteps enter the hall. I knew before raising my eyes to his greeting that Myrddin had found me.

  'At last!' he said, gliding to the table in a single swift motion – like a hawk falling upon its unsuspecting prey. 'You have returned at last. Is the woman with you?'

  'And it is Earth and Sky to see you, too, Wise Emrys,' I replied. 'I do hope you have fared well while we were away.'

  He regarded me sharply, and dismissed my lacklustre attempt at scorn with an impatient flick of his hand. 'Tell me what happened.'

  'I will, and gladly,' I replied. 'But it may be best if we permit my companions to leave now -1 know they are anxious to wash and rest.'

  Myrddin's quick golden eyes turned to Llenlleawg, and he perceived in an instant what I meant. 'Forgive me,' he said, stepping smoothly to the Irishman's side. 'I have been too distracted to notice your distress. How can I help you, Llenlleawg?'

  The champion raised his head and forced a waxy smile. 'I am well, Emrys. Only let me rest a little and I will greet my king and queen in a better humour.' He made to rise, but lacked the strength and fell back in his chair.

  'Here!' said Peredur, jumping up. 'If you will excuse us, Lord Emrys, Tallaght and I will see to Llenlleawg.'

  The two of them raised Llenlleawg between them. Too tired to pretend otherwise any longer, the proud Irishman allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Once steadied, however, he pushed away their offered hands and moved from the hall with a slow, sore gait. The young warriors respectfully took their leave and hurried off to the warriors' quarters to find a bath and change of clothes.

  When they had gone, I returned to the table. Myrddin seated himself on the bench opposite me, folded his arms on the board, and leaned close. 'Now, then, there is no one to overhear,' he said, levelling his keen hawklike gaze upon me. 'Your confessor waits before you. Tell me everything.'

  'There is trouble,' I told him bluntly. 'I cannot say what it is, but, Myrddin, I deeply fear it.'

  I then began to relate all that had happened during our sojourn in Llyonesse, and it did me good, for I felt the burden lift from my soul as I told him about the strange trials we had endured in that godforsaken realm – from losing my horse in the false sands to our encounter with the beast in the night. Myrddin listened all the while, nodding to himself from time to time, as if the incidents I relayed confirmed something he already knew or suspected. At last I concluded, saying, 'That we escaped with only the loss of one horse is a wonder. Indeed, we were beset from the moment we entered Llyonesse. God save me, Myrddin, it is a desolate region – with but one settlement that I could see, and that a ruin.'

  'Llyonesse…' He muttered the word as if it hurt his mouth to say it. 'A wasteland by another name. The dead rest uneasy there.'

  'In truth,' I replied, and confessed to seeing the Mithrian lepers.

  'I have not heard of them for a long time,' Myrddin mused.

  'You know them?' I wondered.

  'When I was a boy, my grandfather Elphin used to tell me stories about the Lost Legion. I never thought to hear about them again.' He paused for a moment, reflecting unhappily. Then, glancing at me again, he said, 'This fortress – how did you find it?'

  'From the smoke,' I replied, then described coming upon the ruin and finding Llenlleawg trapped
in the ironwork house inside the caer. 'Do you know the place?' I asked.

  'From what you tell me, I believe the stronghold you found was Belyn's.'

  I had never heard the name before, and said so.

  'Belyn was Avallach's brother,' Myrddin explained. 'When the Fair Folk came to Ynys Prydain, they settled first in Llyonesse, but the land was not good to them, so Avallach and his people came here. Belyn, his brother king, would not leave the southlands, so he and his people stayed, and now they are no more.'

  The place was more cairn than caer,' I pointed out. 'Could this have happened so long ago?'

  'Yes,' the Emrys answered, nodding at the memory, 'long and long ago.' Turning once more to the subject at hand, he said, 'The woman – you never saw her?'

  'I never did, Emrys, and I do not know whether Llenlleawg can tell you more. He said she led him into Llyonesse, but seems to remember little else.'

  'Leave it to me,' Myrddin said, rising. 'I will speak to him when he is better rested. Now, then, I have kept you from your bath long enough. Go; we will talk again later. I want Arthur to hear what you have to say, but that can wait until tomorrow. Until then, Gwalchavad, I would have you say nothing to anyone else of these matters. I believe treachery stalks the Summer Realm, and I would not care to alert the enemy that we are on his trail.'

  'Treachery?' His use of the word brought me up short. 'Emrys, are you saying one of the Cymbrogi is a traitor?'

  'Just so,' he replied solemnly, moving away. 'He has yet to show his hand, but I sense dire purpose in this – no doubt that was why you were allowed to find Llenlleawg.'

  'Allowed to find him?' I challenged, jumping to my feet to follow him. 'In truth, Myrddin, they meant to kill him! And would have succeeded, too, if we had not seen the smoke and arrived in time to save him.'

  'If the enemy had wanted him dead, a quick thrust of a blade through the ribs would have sufficed,' Myrddin replied, calmly deflecting my objection. 'The smoke, on the other hand, was meant to lead you to our Irish friend so that you could rescue him. That, I am persuaded, is one of the few certainties in all of this twisted tale. You rescued him because you were meant to rescue him – nothing more.'

  'It is absurd!' I concluded, stopping in my tracks. 'You make it seem as if we were on a fool's errand.'

  The Emrys turned back and regarded me with a slow, solemn shake of his head. 'Never say it,' he intoned gravely. 'Never say it, my friend. Something brutal, cruel, and sinister is at work among us -1 feel it.'

  'But why?' I demanded. 'To what end?'

  Myrddin, troubled now, and hesitant, answered, 'In truth, I wish I knew. Still, we would all do well to remember this: where great good abides, there great evil gathers. It is ever so, and we have been warned. We must all tread very carefully from now on.'

  With that he turned and walked away. I glanced uneasily around the hall – feeling unseen eyes on me, watching me -then fled the great empty room and proceeded at once to the warriors' quarters. Though I expected to join the others, they had finished by the time I arrived, and so I had the entire bath to myself.

  The room was warm and damp, the air heavy with steam. Two torches burned in tall stands either side of the square pool, their flames shimmering and dancing on the water. I stripped off my filthy clothes and slipped gratefully into the bath. The hot water, heated from the ovens in the old Roman way, did much to restore me. I confess I stayed overlong, and perhaps the heat and steam went to my head, for as I lay back in the soothing water I saw a black mist gather before my eyes.

  I pressed my eyes shut for a long moment and drew a deep breath, and when I opened my eyes once more, the mist was gone, but I felt light-headed and queasy. Concluding that I had had more than was good for me, I rose and was about to climb from the pool when I heard my name.

  'I have been looking for you, Gwalchavad!'

  I felt an icy breath on my naked skin and turned. A woman stood opposite me across the room. Dressed in long, loose robes of blue and deepest green, her fair hair shimmering in the feeble torchlight, she was tall and slender, and possessed of the beauty men see only in their dreams. She was watching me intently, an expression of approval on her face.

  'Woman, who are you?' I said.

  'You were but a boy when I last saw you,' she said, drawing a step closer. Her feet made no sound on the flat stones. 'But look at you now – what a fine, handsome man you are. The very figure of your father. Lot would be pleased.'

  Strange to say: until she uttered my father's name, I did not recognize her. But the instant she invoked Lot, my heart clutched and my strength flowed out of me like water poured out upon the sand. It was all I could do to hold myself upright.

  'Morgian!' I gasped, trembling inwardly as with cold, or with frozen rage.

  'My son,' she said nicely, extending her arms to me. 'Have you no welcome kiss for your mother?'

  'You are not my mother,' I replied, revulsed. 'My mother is dead.'

  'Poor Gwalchavad,' she pouted, folding her hands prettily before her. 'And to think I always treated you like a son of my own blood.'

  'Get away from me, witch,' I said. I made to turn away, but could no longer make my limbs obey.

  'I would speak to you, dear Gwalchavad,' she replied, her voice growing as smooth and sinuous as a serpent coiling around its prey. 'There is something I wish you to do.'

  'Never!' I spat. 'I would sooner cut off my hand than lift a finger for you.'

  'Oh, I think I may find a way to change your mind,' she said, her smile beguiling with concealed treason. 'Men are such simple creatures, after all.'

  I tried to speak, and felt my tongue clench in my mouth. My jaws seized up tight.

  'You see, I am not to be denied,' she continued, stepping nearer. She raised a hand and absently described a figure in the air. I felt my throat constrict and I could not breathe. 'It is a small thing – a trifle of no particular consequence. I think you may find it far easier to obey than to refuse.'

  'I will die first!' I forced the words out through clenched teeth, my jaws aching as if to break.

  She raised her head and laughed, her voice warm and lovely. 'Charming!' she said, pressing her hands together beneath her chin. 'That is exactly what your brother said,' she informed me cheerfully. 'Alas, poor Gwalcmai. He forced me to take him at his word. Still, I do not expect you to make the same mistake.'

  'No!' I shrieked, pressing my fists to my eyes. 'Jesu, save me!'

  There came a fluttering sound like that of wings in flight, and when I opened my eyes, I was once again lying in the water, still alone. One of the torches was out. I rose and looked at the stone floor where Morgian had stood, but despite the steam and damp, there was no trace of any footprint, nor any sign of her at all. I shouted and received only the dull echo of my own voice in return.

  Frightened now, I left the bath and fled to the warriors' quarters. There was no one around, and as I dried and dressed, I gradually calmed and convinced myself that it was only a bad dream brought on by fatigue and the uncanny experiences of my recent journey.

  When I emerged at last, I had put the thing firmly from my mind and was ready to greet my king and swordbrothers in better spirits. I returned to the hall feeling certain I could devour my weight in roast meat and drain a lake of ale. The babble of voices echoing along the passageway gave me to know that the shrine-builders had returned and a celebration had commenced.

  Indeed, the hall was bright with torchlight and full of friends. Laughter and high-spirited talk flowed like a wave out into the night; cups were being passed, and the hearth fire had been laid. Pausing at the threshold, I stood for a moment and counted myself most fortunate among men to behold such a noble gathering. When men and women such as these pass from this worlds-realm, I thought, the world will be a colder place.

  Rejecting the thought as unworthy of the occasion, I drew myself up and entered the glad gathering. On the instant, I was hailed and a cup thrust into my hands. I felt a hard clap on my back as I raise
d the cup, and Cai's voice loud in my ear. 'Here!' he cried. 'The wanderer returns! How went the hunt, brother?'

  Before I could answer, Cador appeared and said, 'If my two young kinsmen are to be believed, disaster dogged your trail from dawn to dusk.'

  'Ah, well,' I allowed, following Myrddin's request, 'it was never more than a nip at the heel.'

  Cai laughed, but my careful reply caught Cador's attention. He stepped nearer. 'There was trouble?'

  'Aye,' I replied reluctantly, 'there was.' Then, raising the cup, I said, 'But there is ale in the bowl, and fire on the hearth. Let us talk of happier things.' I drank and passed the cup. Wiping foam from my mouth, I said, 'Tell me, now, what is this I am hearing about Arthur's new shrine?'

  'Och!' cried Cai. 'Only a few days, but so much has happened while you were gone, you will be kicking yourself you were not here.'

  He then plunged into an enthusiastic recounting of the heady events of the past days. The account grew somewhat in the telling, but was well seasoned with remarks from various others who came to greet and welcome me once more into their company. The short of it was that Arthur, having returned to the place of his miraculous healing, had been wakened in the night by a vision of a shrine wherein the Cup of Christ shone forth with a light like the morning sun. The Pendragon took this vision as a sign from the High King of Heaven that he should build a dwelling for the Grail. The abbot and monks were consulted, and for two days, Arthur and Bishop Elfodd sat head-to-head over bits of slate on which the Pendragon scratched drawings to represent the shrine he had seen in his vision.

  Elfodd and Arthur… I wondered at this pairing, but kept my thoughts to myself and allowed Cai to finish, which he did eventually, saying, 'We have sent to Londinium for men who know how to work with stone.'

  'Stone?' I asked. 'The shrine is to be of stone?'

  'Stone, aye,' replied Cai. 'Arthur wants it to last a thousand years!'

  'Ten thousand!' offered a nearby listener.