Arthur pc-3

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  'What enchantment is this?' Morcant snarled, rubbing his hands.

  'If it is enchantment,' Merlin told him, 'it is God's enchantment and none of mine.'

  'Liar!' screamed Morcant.

  Others crowded in around the stone and tried to draw the sword. But, as ever before, the Sword of Britain remained firm-fixed to the keystone. No one among the greatest in the Island of the Mighty could pull it out, save Arthur alone.

  When all had tried and failed, King Morcant raged: 'This proves nothing! I will not be tricked by night. Let him lift the sword in the bright daylight, I say! Then we will know that all is as it should be.'

  Morcant believed no such thing, of course. He merely wished to put off the test a little longer, in the vain hope that he might yet discover a way to win the sword.

  Merlin was of a mind to challenge Morcant in this, but Urbanus came forth, with the holy cross upraised, and appealed to all gathered there in the name of the Christ to put off the test until the morning.

  'Tomorrow is the Christ Mass,' the bishop said. 'Come inside the church and pray to the Holy King of all men, that in his great mercy he will show some miracle by which we will know beyond all doubt who shall be High King.'

  To some, this sounded like wisdom itself. I could see what Merlin thought of the scheme. I could almost hear his scornful retort: As I stand before God, toe have already had our miracle! How many mare will you require before you believe?

  But, to my surprise, Merlin politely acquiesced. 'So be it,' he replied. 'Tomorrow let us assemble here once more and see what God will do.'

  With that he turned and started away. Arthur and I followed, leaving the torchlit crowd gaping after us.

  'Myrddin, why?' asked Arthur, as soon as we were away from the churchyard. The narrow street was dark and wet with melted snow. 'I could do it again – I am certain of it. Please, Myrddin, let me.'

  Merlin stopped in the street and turned to Arthur. 'I know perfectly well that you could. In truth, you could draw the sword fifty times, or five hundred – yet it still would not be enough for them. But this way we give them something to think about. Let them worry with it through the night, and perhaps tomorrow they will see things differently.'

  'But tomorrow Lord Morcant might – ' began Arthur.

  'Morcant has had fifteen years to find a way to defeat the sword, or find a way round it,' Merlin explained. 'One more night will make no difference.'

  We started walking again. Our lodgings were not far from the church, and we soon arrived. Arthur was silent until we reached the doorstep. 'Myrddin, why did you bring me here like this?'

  'I have told you, boy. It is time to see what you will become.'

  'That is no answer. You knew what would happen. You knew there would be trouble tonight.'

  'Come in, Arthur. It is cold.'

  'No,' Arthur refused flatly. 'Not until you tell me.'

  Merlin sighed. 'Oh, very well. I will tell you. Now, let us go in. Gradlon has a fire. We will drink some of his wine, and I will tell you all that can be told.'

  We entered the house where, as Merlin had said, Gradlon the wine merchant had prepared a fire. In the elegant style of old Londinium, there were chairs drawn up to the fire, a small long-legged table bearing a tray with cups of silver, and a fine glass jar filled with ruby-red wine.

  Gradlon himself was nowhere to be seen, nor did it appear that any of his servants were about.

  'I will see if anyone is here,' I said, and went to look. The rooms of the ground floor were empty. The upper floor contained two rooms – one of them Gradlon's private chamber. The other he kept as a small storeroom and a place to make his accounting. Gradlon was in neither room. The house was empty.

  I returned to the hearthroom. Merlin and Arthur were settled before the fire. Three cups stood on the hearthstone, wanning.

  'There is no one in the house, lord,' I reported.

  Merlin nodded. 'Yet he prepared our welcome. No doubt he was called away and will appear shortly.'

  Arthur slumped in his chair, his large hands clasped over his chest. 'I thought they would have my head,' he muttered. 'They would have, too, if you had not stopped them. But why, Myrddin? Why were they so angry? And where is Meurig? And Ectorius and Cai – where are they? And Custennin and Bedwyr? They should all be here to support me.'

  'They should,' Merlin agreed. 'But they have been delayed. Perhaps they will arrive tomorrow. Perhaps not.'

  'What? Do you not care what happens?' Arthur's voice rose shrilly.

  Patiently, Merlin replied. 'Do you doubt me? I only say what is: either they will come tomorrow, or they will not. But whether they come or no, there is little I can do about it.'

  Arthur glared darkly, but said nothing. I moved to the hearthstone and poured wine into the warmed cups, handing one first to Merlin, then one to Arthur.

  'Fret not, Arthur,' I told him. 'All is as it should be – as it was ordained to be. Meurig and Custennin know well the Christ Mass Council. They know and will come.'

  He accepted this with the wine, gulped down a mouthful. 'You said you would tell me everything. You agreed. Well? I am ready to hear it now.'

  Merlin appraised him carefully for a moment. 'Are you? Are you ready to hear it all? I wonder.'

  The crackle of the flames on the hearth filled the room. I felt my master weighing out the words carefully in his heart and mind, trying each one as a man might try a grain bag before committing to it the wealth of his harvest.

  'Arthur,' Merlin said at last, 'If I have hidden anything from you, forgive me. It appears that the time for hidden things is over. Knowledge must lead you now where I cannot. But I ask you to remember that, what I did, I did as I have ever done – for one purpose and one purpose only: the better to serve you.'

  The young man accepted this readily. 'Because you knew I would be a king one day?'

  'Precisely. Because I knew you would be king one day.'

  'By the sword? But I thought – '

  'And I let you think it, Arthur. Believe me, it was not for lack of trust in you, but for mistrust of others.' Merlin paused, considered, sipped from his cup, and said, 'Tonight was a test, yes – but not the test you thought it was. You were not merely showing yourself worthy to become a king -'

  'No?'

  'You were showing yourself already a king, Arthur. The High King.'

  Arthur's brow furrowed as his mind raced ahead. I could see him working on it, struggling to take it all in. Still, Arthur did not question that this could be true; his own heart answered for him that it was so.

  The boy sat dazed, but only for a moment. Then he leapt to his feet. 'That is why they were so angry! Myrddin! They hated me for succeeding where they had failed. The prize was far greater than I knew.'

  The young man grinned, as if this were the solution to his woes. In truth, he had already forgiven the small kings their treachery. He was happy once more.

  As he paced before the fire, his face fairly shone with joy. 'The High King – oh, Myrddin, it is true. I know it is. I am the High King.'

  This joy was short-lived, however. For, even as the idea shaped itself in his mind, Arthur recognized the implications of his new-found nobility. 'But that means…'

  His face fell; his shoulders slumped. From the height of happiness, he now appeared utterly downcast and forlorn.

  'Oh, sit down, Arthur.'

  'Who am I? Myrddin, tell me! Who am I that I should be High King? For reason tells me that I am no kin to Ectorius – or Meurig, or Custennin either.'

  Myrddin gently shook his head. 'No, you are not of Custennin's lineage, nor Meurig's, nor even Ectorius'.' He rose and came to stand before Arthur, putting both hands on the boy's shoulders. 'It has been a long time, Arthur. The Island of the Mighty has been without a High King for far too long.'

  'Who am I, Myrddin?' whispered Arthur. 'Tell me! Am I the Pendragon's son?'

  'No, not Uther's. Your father was Aurelius,' Merlin told him simply.

  'Aureliu
s?'

  'Yes, and Ygerna was your mother.'

  'Other's wife!' His eyes went wide.

  'It was not like that,' explained Merlin gently, 'Ygerna was Aurelius' queen before she was Uther's. You are Aurelius' true son, Arthur. You have no cause for shame.'

  This was too much for the boy to comprehend. 'If there is no shame in it, why has it all been kept secret? And do not say it was to serve me better!'

  'To protect you, Arthur.'

  'From Morcant?'

  'From Morcant, yes, and others like him. You saw how it was tonight. I wanted to tell you when your mother died, but you were too young. It is difficult enough now; you would have understood it even less then.'

  Arthur bristled. 'I am not liking this, Myrddin. I tell you plainly, I am not liking this at all! If Ygerna was my mother, why – ' He guessed, even before he could finish asking the question. 'Uther.'

  Merlin sighed. 'I asked you to remember that, what I did, I did to serve you, Arthur. There was no other way… No, there might have been another way; I will not say there was not. But, if there was, it was not revealed to me. I have acted by the light I was given, Arthur. No man can do more.' He reached a hand towards the boy. 'I do not ask you to approve, lad – only to understand.'

  Young Arthur nodded, but said nothing.

  Merlin picked up Arthur's cup and handed it to him. The boy took it and held it between his hands, staring into its depths. 'Drink your wine,' my master told him. 'Then go you to your bed. Let there be no more words; we have said enough tonight.'

  Arthur drained his cup in a gulp, then made his way to his sleeping-place. I moved to attend him, but he put out his hand and bade me stay. He wished to be alone.

  When he had gone, I said, 'He is right to be angry."

  Merlin agreed. 'We have lived with this moment in our minds for years – hoping, praying that it would come. But Arthur knew nothing, of all this until now. We should not wonder that it takes him by surprise. Nevertheless, give him time and he will rise to it. You will see, Pelleas.'

  I refilled our cups and Merlin drank his down, refusing more. 'No, enough. Go to bed, Pelleas. I mean to sit here a little longer,' he said, and turned his chair to the low-burning fire. 'Perhaps Gradlon will return. I would speak with him.'

  I left him staring into the red-gold embers, searching the myriad paths of the Otherworld for that which would bring him wisdom and courage.

  We would have much need of both in the days to come.

  THREE

  The morning dawned raw and cold. Snow sifted sullenly from a sky of hammered lead. We awoke and breakfasted by rushlight in Gradlon's house. Our host bustled around us, ordering his servants, fussing over each small detail, full of the excitement of great events.

  'Eat!' he urged, directing porridge into our bowls and steaming mulled wine into our cups. 'It is a long day you are facing. You will need your strength – and your wits. A man cannot think if he is hungry. Eat!'

  In his long life the canny merchant had many opportunities to be close to momentous affairs. Indeed, truth be known, Gradlon's had been the hand unseen behind many transactions and negotiations of power.

  Governors, kings, lords might come and go, but always to Gradlon's profit. Though he held to no one and nothing but himself and his purse, his ability to sense the prevailing side of any contest – often long before the battle lines were clearly drawn, or the combatants engaged – made him an invaluable ally.

  Gradlon simply understood the fickle ways of power – though unlike most men had no desire of it for himself. He much preferred his own life of trade and barter, of gamble, risk, and speculation. With Arthur in his house, Gradlon was in his glory.

  'You can be sure Morcant is eating hearty this morning,' he said, directing his servants to greater industry. That man never missed a mouthful in his life!'

  'Sit,' Merlin ordered. 'I would hear of your discussion with Governor Melatus. You were late returning last night.'

  Gradlon rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. 'Melatus is impossible, of course – a spine like a willow wand, and a mind like a sieve."

  This brought a chuckle from Arthur, who alone among us possessed an appetite. The boy heeded Gradlon's advice and ate with zeal. If it were to be his last meal, I reflected, at least it would be a good one.

  'The problem, of course,' Gradlpn continued, breaking the hard bread and dipping the crust in his porridge, 'is that the governor is of no certain opinion about the matter. He has no opinion because he is living in the past. Teh! Melatus and his cronies believe the emperor will come in the spring with four cohorts.' The merchant withdrew the crust from his mouth. 'Four cohorts! Why not a hundred? A thousand!'

  Merlin shook his head. Gradlon laughed, 'Which emperor, I asked him? Oh, he is a fool, I tell you. Gaul is finished. The empire is a memory. Eat! You have not touched your food.'

  'He will not side with us?' asked Merlin.

  'No more than he would side with the Saecsens. God's mercy, the man thinks you are Saecsens! Melatus believes that anyone not born behind the crumbling walls of Londinium is a barbarian or worse.'

  'Then at least he will not side with the others,' I ventured.

  'Do not be over certain of that, my friend,' Gradlon answered. 'Melatus is a fool, and practices a fool's wisdom. He may side with the others simply to confound you. Also, Morcant styles himself an emperor and that looms large with Melatus.'

  'Then it seems we cannot ignore him,' Merlin replied. 'This is going to more difficult than I thought.'

  'Leave Melatus to me!' declared Gradlon. 'I will deal with him.'

  Arthur finished his porridge and pushed his bowl away. He took up his cup and sipped the spiced wine. The steam rose from the rim as he drank. Gradlon's glance lingered on him for a moment, then he said, 'Aurelius' son – who would have thought it, eh? Hail, Artorius! I salute you.' Gradlon raised his palm in an informal but genuine salute.

  Arthur grinned. 'I am not king yet.'

  'Not yet,' Merlin agreed. 'But perhaps by the end of the day we will all say otherwise.'

  Still, despite Merlin's hopeful words, it was not to be.

  Arthur had little stomach for appeasement, or for the schemes of men like Morcant. Given a choice, I think he would have preferred settling the matter with the edge of his sword. Better the short, sharp heat of open battle than the cold poison of intrigue.

  Merlin sympathized but knew there was no other way. 'You were born to contention, boy,' he said. 'What is a little strife to you? Bear it lightly; it will pass.'

  'I do not mind that they hate me,' replied Arthur. I believe he meant it, too. 'But it angers me that they refuse me my birthright.'

  'I will tell you something, shall I? They treated Aurelius no better,' Merlin confided, 'and him they loved. Think on that.'

  Arthur turned his eyes to the throng gathered in the churchyard. 'Do they hate me as well?'

  'They have not decided yet.'

  'Where are Ectorius and Cai? I do not see them.' Ectorius and his son, Cai, had arrived in Londinium and found us as we were making our way to the churchyard.

  'I told them to find Morcant and stand with him.'

  'With him?'

  'Perhaps he will not rail quite so loudly if his own is the only voice he hears.'

  Arthur smiled darkly. 'I do not fear Morcant.'

  'This is not about fear, Arthur, but about power,' Merlin said seriously. 'And Morcant holds the very thing you need.'

  'I do not need his approval.'

  'His acquiescence.'

  'It is the same thing,' snapped Arthur.

  'Perhaps,' allowed Merlin. 'Perhaps.'

  'I would have liked to have talked to Cai.'

  'Later.'

  'Why are we waiting? Let us get on with it.'

  'We will wait a little longer – let Morcant and his crowd stew in their juices.'

  'I am the one stewing, Myrddin! Let us do it and be done.'

  'Shh, patience.'

  Despi
te the cold, people continued to crowd into the yard. Arthur, Merlin and I stood out of sight inside the archway of the church, waiting while the kings and lords gathered to witness once more the miracle they would neither accept nor acknowledge. But they came anyway. What else could they do?

  I scanned the crowd, too, wishing in my heart that Meurig and Custennin had arrived, and wondering why Lot was not here. What could have detained them? I could not help feeling that their presence would make a difference somehow – even though I knew this hope was futile.

  In any event, Merlin had already decided the way the thing would go.

  Urbanus, bald and jowly, bustled up, his sandals slapping the wet stone at our feet. 'All is ready,' he said, slightly out of breath. 'All is ordered as you have asked.'

  Arthur turned to regard the bishop. 'What is ready?' The question was for Merlin.

  'I have asked Urbanus to prepare us a place where we may sit and talk like civilized men. I do not propose to haggle in the churchyard like horse traders in a market. This is too important, Arthur. When men sit down together they are like to be more reasonable.'

  'Yes,' replied Urbanus. 'So, when you are ready…?'

  'I will give you a sign,' answered Merlin.

  'Very well. I will take my place.' Urbanus pressed his hands together and hurried off, his breath puffing in the icy air.

  Arthur stamped his feet. The restless crowds shifted in the cold. Some of the lords gathered round the keystone were talking loudly and looking around pointedly. In a few moments the shout would go up for Arthur to appear. If he did not, there would be a riot.

  Arthur felt the tension in the throng and sensed it shifting like a tide against him. He turned to Merlin and implored, 'Please, can we get on with it?'

  In the same instant, the crowd began to shout.

  'See? They are tired of waiting, and so am I.'

  This, I think, was why Merlin had been waiting. He wanted the emotions of the people, and Arthur's too, to be prickly sharp; he wanted them alert and uncomfortable.

  'Yes,' agreed Merlin. 'I think we have kept them waiting long enough. Let us go. Remember what I told you. And, whatever happens, see that you do not release that sword to anyone.'