by Chris Page
Merlin stepped away, drew his right arm back, and delivered a stinging, long-fingered slap to Penda’s bearded face. It was the ultimate insult to one who was used to having his every whim attended to. Penda’s eyes bulged to bursting point, and his face suffused bright red with the effect of the slap and attempt to release himself.
“That is for them,” breathed the long magus. “And all the heartbreak and death your Nazarene faith has and will continue to cause this nation.”
After a suitable moment the boy spoke again. “Shall we give the demon another opportunity to speak?”
“Only if he can exercise some control,” said Merlin.
“Can you so do?” asked the boy as speech was again restored to the invader.
Penda took a very deep breath. His pride had taken a battering, particularly with the slap. He was beginning to accept the fact that he was not in a very kingly position, being completely under the control of these two, and his voice, normally stentorian and closely listened to, would be switched into an ineffectual squeak the instant they heard anything untoward. Straining with all his might to keep his emotions in check and voice normal, he opened his mouth and managed a somewhat croaked question.
“What have you done with my daughter?”
The long magus clapped his hands in glee. “There, you see. The northern demon invader can speak in a civilized manner. All it takes is a little effort. As to your daughter, Rawnie, she is safe in a place far away from here. A place you will never find, no matter how long you search, for I have cloaked it in mystery. Chivalry still abounds in these parts, and we venefici of Wessex do not punish womenfolk for the sins of their men, regardless of the death and destruction caused by them. I must say, however, that she is a most spirited young lady and one deserving of a better lineage than that we see before us.”
“I want her back, long magus. She is very important to me.”
“My father was very important to me until the wolves ripped his body to shreds when they attacked the settlement of Malmesbury.” Twilight’s voice was edged with emotion.
Penda dropped his head for a moment before raising it to look at the boy.
“I did not order that attack. Elelendise sent her wolves in as retribution for losing her white wolf and to teach you both a lesson. As you probably know, I have banished her from my side. “
“You may not have ordered the wolf attack, but you didn’t stop it, either,” replied the boy.
“I will not offer any excuses as to why I and my army are here. The long magus is right. We are Christians and as such are driven to convert all non-believers to the true faith, by force if necessary.” He looked directly at Merlin and, conscious of being shut down again, continued in an even tone.
“Your argument on leaving well alone is a very persuasive one, but you will also know, having advised your own King Arthur through many victorious battles with similar aims, that successful kingship requires expansion and unification of people and lands. Invaders are everywhere. To prevent being dominated by others we must strike out first. I have seen the many pennants and trophies of those battles hanging from the walls of the great hall in this castle. Those were acquired by King Arthur, with you by his side, under the exact same conditions as I find myself in now.”
The long magus sighed. This question always seemed to come up.
“There was no threat to you in your northern stronghold from Wessex. As far as I know there is no single, unified force big enough or organized enough anywhere in these islands to mount a challenge to your force in conventional terms, so that argument is discounted immediately. As for my period at Arthur’s side and subsequent change, I will explain it in simple terms that you will understand. Your faith has many stories illustrating its absurdities. These absurdities have been invented to help non-believers convert to the faith and followers to remain steadfast. One of these stories concerns the conversion of Saul, a man whose view of Christianity was simple. He hated it and wanted everyone associated with it destroyed. As such he was always willing to give approval for the death of any Christians, as was the case with the stoning of Stephen, considered to be the first martyr of your faith. One day when he was on a journey of persecution near the town of Damascus, he found himself surrounded by a bright light. Falling to the ground he heard a voice from the heavens asking why he continued to persecute the Christian god. This converted Saul, who then became known as Paul, and gave rise to the term ‘Damascene Conversion’ for those who, through prevailing circumstances, had a complete change of heart, had seen the light. As my tyro skirmisher here knows, I had my own version of the ‘Damascene Conversion’ after Arthur burned some soldiers’ faces in an attempt to extract information from them. The interesting thing about the story of Saul-then-known-as-Paul is that he was later executed by the Romans for preaching Christianity, the faith that he had once tried so hard to destroy.”
“Nothing - magic, sorcery, and the kidnapping of my beloved daughter and defeat of my armies - will ever separate me from my Christian faith,” said Penda unconvincingly as if it was the expected response, but he was unsure of his place in saying it.
“Your faith is your affair and long may it bring you great joy and satisfaction. Immerse yourself in it totally until death separates you from it with my blessing,” replied Merlin. “As I have made perfectly clear, I care little for Christianity or any of the many other religions. It’s the imposition of those blatantly invented absurdities upon others by force that I am against.”
“And you?” Penda said, looking at Twilight.
The boy smiled. “I will make my own decisions when the time is right. I am thirteen years of age and so have plenty of time. Suffice it to say at this stage that I have had access to learning and phenomena within the enchantments that are denied normal humans, including invader kings like you. At this stage this privilege leads me to see through and therefore discount the faith that you follow. I am, however, completely with my venefical master and vehemently opposed to the imposition of any religion by force, and I will fight you or any other invader to my last breath if they try to convert these lands.”
Penda paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He’d had his daughter taken from under his nose and, along with four hundred and fifty soldiers, been spared by the mercy of these two in the field. Now, in a castle occupied and surrounded by his own army he was completely incapacitated and trapped. Perhaps it was time for some cold, hard reconsideration of his position.
“Answer me this. Is your sorcery greater than my religion, greater than my army?” he said quietly.
“Yes,” said the boy and Merlin together.
“Could I have succeeded with the assistance of the wolf-woman?”
“Probably not, but you would have had a better chance. Sorcery can only be overcome by stronger or greater sorcery. Command of the enchantments is everything. Unfortunately she has not had the experience to use the powers at her command correctly. We also doubt her purpose here,” Merlin replied.
“Then, as long as you two are here, I cannot and could not win.”
“No,” they replied together emphatically.
Penda dropped his head in defeated resignation.
The long magus spoke firmly. “I will allow you this and only this. Leave at first light with your army and return immediately to Northumberland. Do not press Christianity upon anyone or attack or sack any Celtic settlements on the way. If harm comes to any individual I will hold you personally responsible. For every Celt you harm I will remove a limb from your daughter’s body. More than four and she will receive the same treatment the repellent Elelendise meted out to the brave young knight, Godwinson. When you and every member of your army have passed over the borders of Northumberland, I will return Rawnie to you. We are the liege-lords of the pica and hawk named after me. They will be watching your every move from the sky. Make all haste. If you ever venture out of Northumberla
nd again, be very sure to head north for we shall be watching you. And remember this; you, your daughter, and four hundred and fifty soldiers are alive because of the mercy of this boy here. I would not have shown such magnanimity. The next time you may not be so lucky. Cut your losses and retire gracefully. The boy and I have many tricks up our enchanted sleeves, many other ways to entrap you. Go back to where you belong and leave Wessex in peace, or by the Seven Sages of Greece we will see your flesh rot upon the green sward of this land.”
Penda kept his head bowed for a few moments. “Thank you. We leave at first light,” he whispered, lifting his head.
But there was no one there.
The immortal gods began to gather for the show to be staged by Tiresias, the Seer of Thebes. The islands of that curious little group of lands collectively known as the Britains where his show was to take place was not all that familiar to them. Since the Romans had left this remote outpost of their mighty empire over one hundred years ago, the place had been a hotbed of petty squabbling between Saxons, Jutes, Gauls, Belgae, Iberians, and Celts with seemingly none of them gaining the upper hand. Zeus, the father of them all, had not taken his seat. When he did, Ganymede, the cup bearer to Zeus and the other gods, would bring ambrosia, and that would signal the beginning of the event.
It was then up to Tiresias to entertain them.
If he succeeded his star would be very much in the ascendancy.
If he failed, even honorably, the reaction of Zeus was difficult to gauge. Losing his seat on the Presidium was not out of the question.
Chapter Sixteen
Surrounded by massed ranks of pica and Merlin hawks with the resident hooded ravens flapping around in the towers behind them, the long magus and Twilight perched high on the topmost ramparts of Cadbury Castle as Penda’s huge northern army wound its way slowly across the Summer Land valleys and into the distance. It had only been a few days since they had sat in the same position and watched them arrive; now they were leaving.
Flanked by his senior officers, Penda rode straight-backed through the castle gate and across the drawbridge without a backward or upward glance. His retreat signified a crushing defeat by minimalist forces to say the very least, and everyone winding their defeated way out of the Wessex sward knew it. Northern wounds, although mainly psychological, would take more than a few licks to regain the all-conquering arrogance with which it had arrived in here. Indeed, it was doubtful if Penda’s reign would survive once the full extent of the humiliating retreat was known back in Northumberland. However he explained it, sorcery, kidnapped daughter, or anything else, losing an invasion with that many men to an old man of ninety-three, a boy of thirteen, and a few birds was unbelievable and unacceptable, especially to the men themselves who had no real idea why they were plodding back toward home with their tails between their legs. Aware that the retreat might cause mutinous mutterings in the ranks, Penda had told his officers to spread the word that Northumberland was being threatened by a Saxon raiding force from the Low Countries and they had to return forthwith to defend their homeland. Few were convinced and recognized it for what it was, an attempt by a defeated king to save face and keep them on-side. For now the retreat was orderly, and it remained to be seen if it would stay that way for the three long weeks the march home would take them.
As soon as the last soldier had disappeared over the hill, Merlin’s eyes glowed and the burial mound of Godwinson’s mother and father reappeared in the corner of the courtyard under the small oak tree.
“I have placed the body of the young Godwinson in a casket beside those of his mother and father,” said the long magus softly.
They paused for a moment in memory of the tall, flaxen-haired young knight with the broad shoulders and clear blue eyes with whom they had enjoyed an all too brief period of comradeship.
“What of his men who are hiding out in the Cheddar Catacombs?”
“We will send them a message that they can return here soon. However, they may not wish to continue as before with their young leader gone.”
“Seems a shame not to. It’s such a beautiful and strongly built castle,” said the boy.
The long magus looked at him for a moment before speaking.
“I fear that will not be the case for long. There is one great battle left to fight, that of the wolf-woman and myself. Although she doesn’t know it yet I have chosen this castle as the battlefield. I will need all the help I can get, and this place offers me some advantages, not the least being the fact that I know every nook and cranny. I wouldn’t expect to find much of this great edifice left - as strong as it is - when we have finished hurling thunderbolts at each other.”
The boy was silent for a while. “Is there no other way?” he said eventually. “I am frightened that you might be hurt.”
The long magus chuckled. “Fear not, my little tyro skirmisher. I have lasted ninety-three years and plan to see out the remaining seven preparing you for the future. History is always recorded by the victorious. It is my intention to inscribe the record. When the wolf-woman and I meet to settle our differences, my advantage will be coolness and experience. She will come out blazing away with her thunderbolts and everything else in her arsenal. Smoke, noise, and fire will be her tactics, for she has a great deal more power than I and will seek to use it at the earliest opportunity. For my part I will allow her all the early advantages whilst remaining unscathed. At some point every such conflict descends into chaos. This will not be an exception. Indeed, I am counting on it. The longer I can keep her chasing me, the more her power will diminish. Then it will be my turn to become the aggressor, and it is at this point that I will require some assistance from you. Until that time I want you to keep out of the way. When I have drawn her sting we will work in concert to finish it. You should be close to me anyway just in case she gets the upper hand and I have to pass the great secret to you in the final moments. I do not expect that to happen.”
He paused to let that sink in.
“Although the very thought of the conflict frightens me, I am glad I will be able to play a part in her downfall. We will inscribe the record together,” replied the boy.
“Good. Now, we have nine days before our presence is required at the Equinoctial Festival at Stonehenge. The repellent one will want the fight with me to take place before then so she can be there, with or without me. By my reckoning that leaves us a few days to spare. What say you to a little break from all this, eh?”
“Where?”
“Somewhere you have not been yet. The remote island where your mother, brothers, and sisters and the charmingly feisty little Princess Rawnie and the ever beautiful Guinevere live. And there is something else that I want to show you there, another one of my special secrets.”
Twilight felt his pulse beginning to quicken. He ached to see his mother and brothers and sisters, and the idea of seeing the princess again excited him.
“Not forgetting the one hundred or so resident lepers as well,” the boy added with a grin.
“Splendid company all of them,” replied the old sorcerer as his eyes began to glow.
The small island of Lundy, or Silura as it was known to the Romans, was situated in the muddy brown waters of the Severn Estuary some two hours by rowing boat off the coast of North Kernow. Windswept and barren, it had one large, odd-shaped, and much modified building known as the leprosaria - leper house - in which everyone lived, and a small stone jetty. Solidly constructed in stone by the Romans over two hundred years ago for the very purpose it served today - a remote charnel house for incurables - the building had one large door at the front and thin slits for windows. The roof, constantly attended and renewed by the inhabitants, was made of local turf woven into oak cross pieces and weighted down against the fierce winds by heavy rocks. Around the sides and back of the leprosaria, rising into the steep hill behind, stretched row upon row of carefully cultivated vegetables and fruit trees.
A mature row of thick, silver-barked poplar trees protected the front from the savage gales that blew into the front of the building off the estuary.
The transformation saw Merlin and the boy appear on the small stone jetty, which startled two men who were busily shoring it up with fresh rocks where the constant battering of the brown waters of the estuary had swept away some of the base stones.
The long magus gave them one of his special beams, which seemed to put them at ease, and began walking up the path toward the leprosaria. Adding his own face-splitting beam in the men’s direction, Twilight tagged along behind, trying hard not to stare at the red and white ulcerated blotches that populated the uncovered skin of their legs, hands, and faces. Although Merlin had told him in some detail about the visual implications of leprosy, the actuality was still a bit of a shock. Others were dotted around the neat rows of vegetables and fruit trees busily cultivating, picking, and pruning. Even from this distance their ulcerated and misshapen faces could be distinguished.
