As Gwyddion stood there in that Glen, another great tingling came through his body. He shivered as he heard the echoes of a Well bubbling up in great bubbles, “gu-glug, gu-glug, gu- glug” – his blood ran cold.
“By the power of three!” said he.
But, was this dread or anticipation? He knew that this was not business for this Time, but for a Time and a Time and yet another Time to come.
So, Gwyddion, The Merlin, looked deeply into Uther’s eyes and outlined the terms of his bargain exactly as the “Voices” had instructed him to do. Uther agreed and gave his word of honour not to break the pledge.
Then Gwyddion told him, “Meet me on the next Full Moon, at Gorlois’ fortress in Dumnonia, where your desires will be fulfilled.”
“But why so long? My heart will burst with the waiting.”
“We will do this my way – or not at all!”
“Not at all? I will take her with or without your help, Gwyddion! You are my Councilor, not my master to tell me what I will or will not do!”
“Indeed. Why then do you seek my help?”
Uther had no better answer to this query than the plain truth.
“I wanted her to Love me. I thought that you could use your Magics to make her Love me.”
“Uther, do you not know that real Love has a life of its own? I have not the power to make her Love you and if I did, I would not do it – for things such as this lie far beyond the boundaries of my ethics and honour.”
“So be it, then. But still – I will take her!”
“Uther, my brother, have you ever feared me?”
“No, I have never felt the need.”
“And I have never thought you a fool. But cross me in this and you will have committed your life’s greatest folly! Then we both will have been proven wrong.”
Incredulous, Uther stared at Gwyddion.
“Have you just threatened me?”
Uther had spoken these words in anger. But then, feeling defeated, he relented;
“I would indeed be a fool to cross you, for many reasons; not the least of which would be to lose your friendship. I will do as you have said and meet you on the next Full Moon. Gwyddion, I pray you, let us never be torn apart, over this or anything.”
But by Gwyddion’s reckoning it was all too late for that.
Gwyddion knew that the events before him were momentous. He also knew that the travel he was about to undertake would be terrifically taxing. So, remembering what Brennos had taught him, he first cleansed himself in the water of the bubbling well. Then he began.
Gwyddion ran all the way to Dumnonia. He did not own a mount of his own for he had always walked everywhere he went. This peculiarity was just one more elusive thing to add to his mystique. And in his unfailing practicality – which might seem in direct contrast to his peculiarities – he knew that Uther would do nothing, such as giving him a Horse, to aid him in reaching Igraine. So he ran.
Even though he was twenty-two years and in the fullness of his physical strength, it took all of twenty-five Days and Nights to reach her, for the way was ragged and heavily Wooded. Years later, he shared with me, Morgan, all that had been going through his thoughts whilst he ran and ran. He said that it was as though his whole life had re-played itself in his thoughts, over and over… and that the memories were bittersweet. These were the things he remembered, the events of which he wrote.
Gwyddion, The Merlin
On The Way to Igraine...
In my youth, I had been called Gwyddion, the Bastard. Oh, not by the Clan folk of Gwynedd, my homeland, who placed no stigma upon that condition, but by the Roman household in which I had spent my early childhood – my Grandfather’s house. My Mother, Alexandra, whom I Loved so, lived under his protection, as did I.
My Mother was of noble birth. As I heard the story, she had Loved a Warrior of high distinction. He Loved her, as well, so they had planned to marry in the Roman fashion. But he was sent somewhere far away for battle and never returned to her. She did not hear from him again. He never knew that he had left her with child. No one knew who he was, not even his name, for she would not tell it.
Because of the details of my birth, I, Gwyddion the Bastard, was given none of the training that the other boys living in my Grandfather’s house were given. This, in itself, did not matter much to me for I cared little for the Arts of War. However, for the lack of any meaningful endeavour, I was exceedingly bored with my existence. After my regular chores, there was nothing for me to do but to talk with my Mother and watch her Weave or tend her Herb and Flower garden. That part of those Days was my only joy, for I did Love my Mother well. However, by the Time I turned my eighth year, my Mother’s ladies, as well as the other boys in our household, chided me that I was like a “baby clinging to my Mother’s bosom.” This saddened and embarrassed me, so after their cruel words, every Day I would go into the Woods alone and talk with the Animals, Birds, and Trees.
One Day, I wandered farther afield than was usual and came upon a Cave. Someone lived there. I slowly crept to the opening and called out, “Anybody here?”
A deep and old-sounding voice said, “Come in, my boy, I have been waiting for you.”
The old man was nearly blind, but he got on well enough. “Finally,” thought I – “an adventure!”
We talked for hours, of Herbs and Crystals, Rocks and Wells… and of how all these and everything else in the world around us have a life force of their own. We also spoke of lands across the Seas, far, far away – with very different Gods from ours. I drank in his every word. To my great amazement, when I looked through the Cave’s opening, wondering if it would soon be Time to return home, the Sun had all but fallen beneath the Earth’s edge.
I said, “I have to go!”
“Well then, you will have to come back,” quoth he.
And come back I did, most every Day, for the next six years. That was the beginning of the Magic... and the path from which I would never stray.
Well, Brennos – for that was his name – not only taught to me the Arts Magical, but we spoke much of construction, Engineering, Architecture, Mathematics, and Astronomy. He told of the great Stone edifices in the East. We talked of Mysteries and wonders unthought-of on these Isles, at least by me. He taught me to read and write in the Greek tongue, which was still the language of the intellectual – as well as in the tongue of the Clans.
As the next six years flew by, I learned what seemed a lifetime’s worth of knowledge from him. None of this was ever known to my Mother or Grandfather. They thought me a wild and weird child. But regardless of what my Mother’s opinion of my weirdness was, what little of life we shared was spent in the richness of companionable Love.
One Day, while walking through the Wood at the foot of the Mountain, near to where Brennos’ Cave and my Grandfather’s villa were, three men with a large sack came and overtook me. I struggled to get away from them, but they were too strong – too determined. They captured me, threw me in the sack, and took me away! To what place, I did not know! As you can imagine, I was very fearful. I forgot all the Words of Power Brennos had taught me to use in just such a situation; I forgot everything for fear of my life.
“I was still but a boy,” thought I as excuse. Although it was true that at my age of fourteen years, some were counted as men – some fought in battles!
“I must get control of my emotions so that I may be cunning in the face of my adversity” I told myself.
I had been captured for reasons unknown to me and taken toward the top of a Hill, into the presence of a military Commander named Vortigern.
He and his Architects had been trying – and failing – to build a fortress there. When they released me from the sack and my eyes had adjusted to the light, I found that I was standing amidst his foolish Counselors – so called Magicians and Architects. They were speaking of their great calamity.
It seemed that every Day the Builders had placed the foundation Stones to a certain height, then left their work
for their evening’s rest. But every morning, when they returned to work, the whole structure had collapsed during the Night before and slid down the Hill! No one had an answer as to why this was happening… or how to correct the situation.
So, at his wit’s end, Vortigern had resorted to bringing there a Soothsayer – of questionable reputation – to Divine the problem. This old man – after cutting open a Hare, so as to look into its entrails – told Vortigern that the Old Gods were angry for not having received their portion. He said that a blood sacrifice must be placed beneath the cornerstone to appease “Them.” But, not just any blood would do… it must be that of a boy who had no Father of this world! Vortigern had sent forth his henchmen to find this child – under penalty of Death, if they did not return with such a boy.
After thinking much about it, I came to the belief that the three men sent out to find such a boy had twisted the meaning of the decree and, for the sake of expediency, had stolen the first bastard they could find: Me.
Of course the first thing they asked me was, “Who and where is your Father, boy?”
To which I answered, “I know not who he was, but as to where, I think he lives not in the realm of flesh.”
They heard in my words precisely what they wanted to hear; for this is the way of Humans, as I have come to learn. As educated as I was in every other way, I was still naïve to the evil ways of men.
Believing that I had nothing to lose by it, I called them all fools! I said, “Lord Vortigern, how can you, an intelligent man, believe this nonsense? Allow me to look at the bottom of this Hill to see if can be found the source of this problem.”
Amazingly, he did!
In the years that have passed by, many legends have grown up about this event; that I became his great Counselor because, as I peered into the Otherworlds, I saw beneath Vortigern’s Hill two fighting Dragons: a white one and a red one. And, Seer that I was, I saw the outcome of his final battle as well as the eventual fate of the Britons.
The truth of the matter is that he was trying to build his fortress on very unstable ground. For, when I went down to the bottom of the Hill to look around, I noticed that there were Rocks that every Day slid down the Hill. Something from within the Hill was shaking it – not enough to feel this whilst standing upon it, or to destroy it, but something in its nature was moving it just enough to tear down what they had built up on it the Day before.
I have gone back to that place several Times since those Days and still, small rocks slide down that Hill every Day. Curious that.
So, I went back up and said to Vortigern, “There is no need to kill me, sir – to sacrifice me to these Dark Gods your Magi are making offerings to.”
I looked at him and could see within him. I saw that, illustrious man that he was – educated and supposedly wise – still, he was a very superstitious one. So, I told him the fanciful tale of the Dragons fighting in a chasm beneath the Hill for they were loathe to allow his building above it and that their rumbling fight was what was causing the falling down of his fortress.
“Your fortress, Sir,” said I, “will never stand on this Hill… you must change your plans and move it!”
He followed my advice, thereby sparing my life. This was very unfortunate for the Soothsayers though! Doomsayers!
As soon as his superstitions were placated, I surveyed a site nearby, where the fortress would indeed stand. And there did I design and oversee the most splendid fortress in all of Briton.
Ah, yes, well did I remember.
And on I ran to Igraine...
Again, my thoughts traveled to the Time when I had arranged in my second year with Vortigern to get word to my Mother that I lived and where I was. A messenger arrived soon after that from my Grandfather’s villa, saying that my Mother wished to see me. Vortigern, not wishing to cross her Father – who was a very influential man – allowed me to go to her, but only under heavy guard.
So very welcome to my heart had been the sight of her lovely blue eyes, that, whilst there, I forgot all else. It was upon that blessed meeting – when I could hold my dear Mother’s face in my hands – that hope for my future was revived. From that Day forward I knew that my fate was not to be forever in the hands of Vortigern. I was almost at my sixteenth year-turn by that Time.
News came some Time after that from my Grandfather’s house that my Mother was ill. Vortigern again allowed me go – again under guard – to see her.
It was then that she told me the name of my Father. She called him her beloved “Victor” – although I did wonder at that Time, whether this name was his actual name or a descriptive. This was all that she would say of it.
Next my memories travelled to the hour of my dear Mother’s Death, whereupon she would have no one else beside her: not her Father, nor her ladies – but only me. She had not the need to send word this Time, for I had felt her imminent demise. Vortigern allowed me, for a third Time and under guard again, to leave his fortress without him.
When I arrived at my Grandfather’s house, I found her feeble and pale, holding onto life by the thread of Love which bound her to me. She motioned for me to come close and put my ear to her lips. She whispered, “You must know the ancestry of your Father, so that perhaps you may find him, for I think he is not dead, but has just not returned to me. He told me that his name was Victor... and that he was the son... or perhaps he said grandson – my memory fails me – Oh, yes! – of Macsen Wledig. My Victor already had two sons here in Britannia, by his wife, Elen, of the Clans. Or, was that the name of his Mother? I cannot remember… When we met, he was already a widower. These two other sons – your half brothers, are Ambrosius Aurelius , Britannia’s much revered battle Commander of current fame and, as to the name of his youngest... my memory fails me once more. Oh, no – now I remember... His name is Badraig Constantius.”
This shocked me almost beyond belief... for bastard or no, it put me in the direct line of Macsen Wledig himself. And I had brothers! I knew not what to make of this revelation, or if anything would ever come of it.
I looked into my dear Mother’s eyes as she bade me again to place my ear close to her lips. She said “My dearest Gwyddion...” – her breath coming now in laboured hoarse gasps – “If ever you should you find your Father... please tell him that I have Loved him always. And as for not returning to me, I forgive him... or would understand. You have been a good son, Gwyddion, and I have always known there is greatness within you. I grieve that I must leave you; the rest of the world means naught to me. Know that I bring the Love I hold for you with me into the land of Hades… or perhaps, if I dare to dream, into the Summerlands where I may be with you again. I will watch over you here in the land of flesh and bone. Call to me, Gwyddion, when I am dead... Find me in the Otherworlds, where I know you travel. I will try... someday... to come to you. Be listening for me, my son... I must leave now... my beloved...”
Her gasping abruptly stopped with one more ragged intake of breath. Her eyes, staring at me and filled with the most Love I had ever known, froze into her last expression.
I closed her beautiful eyes. Upon their lids I placed two gold coins to pay the Ferryman, as was the custom of her Father’s house.
“Mother, oh Mother...” I could not help it: I wept and wept. She had been the Love of my life, but I took heart in the words she had spoken to me: “I will try… someday... to come to you. Be listening for me...”
The memory faded...
But just then – from somewhere on the Wind – I heard her voice.
“Gwyddion...”
Astounded, I said, “Mother... I have not heard from you in all these years! I Love you. Mother? Mother?”
But, no one answered. And although in my heart of hearts I still believe she had really spoken to me out there in the dark, brambled Woods, I realised it could have been only the exhaustion of my body, the remembrances of her Death, or my longing for her that had tricked me.
And on I ran, remembering...
The next Nigh
t, exhausted and needing sleep so badly and yet so agitated that sleep would not come – my thoughts went back in memory to another Time while I had still been with Vortigern. On that Night as I lay fretfully trying to sleep, I was bidden by my “Voices” to use the deep breathing techniques which Brennos had taught to me – to slow my heartbeats, so that within my awareness the shadows and images could shift and I would feel a numbing of my body and thus enter into the realms of Spirit. I obeyed. And then I had had a very disturbing Dream.
I saw into the past, remembering the Time and place of an imminent battle… even could I see and smell the fear of the people there. I had crept to the other side of the Valley from Vortigern’s troops, where I stood hiding behind a line of Trees... awaiting my opportunity to approach Ambrosias Aurelius and his younger brother.
Now, I was a man of my word, always taught to be forthright. However, subterfuge is part of the very fiber of Magic. I had learned from Brennos that there are events and reasons which sometimes give good cause to go beyond the necessity of telling the whole truth.
Because of such an event, I would betray Vortigern.
I had stayed with him only until the pre-Dawn of what I had “Seen” to be his last battle, when I would lead him up to that which would Spell his doom... even unto his Death.
How confusing, yet clear, can Dreams be; shifting Time and place.
…And on and on I ran to Igraine…
There were Times when my legs were aching so badly that I thought I could take not another step. But I must. There were Times running through the great Woods of this land that the moisture rose so heavily that it rolled like a frozen Mist from the River to fill the entire Forest, so much so that I could not see an arm’s length ahead of myself. There were Times when I ran right into Trees and thorny brambles – Times when my Owl Chronos was so cold that I must cover him in blankets and skins and hold him to my breast. Yet more Days and Nights came and went – Times when the ache in my side was so severe that tears rolled from my eyes, only to freeze upon my face, making me even colder.
Voices of the Stars Page 6
