Merlin's Ring

by H. Warner Munn

  He was not even certain that it was inside the boulder. The cracks and markings upon the surface corresponded to the veinings he thought he had seen within the foggy heap which had surrounded the sword. This had darkened and thickened to stone as his elvish vision departed him. Was the sword still within it?

  He reached out his hand and touched the bezel of Merlin’s ring to the rock.

  There was a little puff of displaced air. The boulder vanished like a punctured bubble and before him Excalibur lay waiting, upon a polished slab.

  The sword, to his eyes, was the burnished blue of finely tempered steel. It had not been damaged by time or weather, for it had been protected by whatever magic had displaced light around it

  Although that shield had vanished, Gwalchmai had no doubt that the metal was still visible to the dwergar and the fay, it all its glaring fury.

  He took the sword in his hand. Instantly, now that it no longer touched the earth, those he saw as ants surged forward into the previously forbidden ground. Above them, moving against the wind, a little dark cloud floated at the height of a man’s head, rippling, eddying, expanding—keeping them always in the shelter of its shadow. Beneath it the warlike myriads scurried on, without discipline or order, in the direction of the cairn that was the castle.

  There was only one thing he could do to help his tiny friends.

  He passed the hallowed blade through the formless cloud. It could feel pain or its equivalent, for it coiled, shrank in upon itself and spun madly with the hurt of the blow. He heard a hissing like that of a scotched viper. The cloud disappeared and the full rays of the sun poured down upon the night-loving dwergar.

  He laid the edge of Excalibur down in front of the invaders and swept them back toward their anthill city. He could imagine the flaming besom from the sky that they saw descending, flaying and withering them, laying corpses as in windrows, and he shuddered.

  “Another mark against me in the records of both Oduarpa and Thor!” he muttered.

  The small meadow that had encompassed Elveron’s brbad marches was now empty. At least, he could see nothing moving.

  “Farewell, little friends!”

  He walked back toward the entrance to the barrow, being most careful where he set his feet He made another torch and lit it by the power of the ring. The stone no longer covered the entrance. He did not think this strange, for he did not know that FJann and Thyra had rolled it in place before they left.

  The barrow had been entered since with impunity. The Dogs of Annwn no longer stood guard over the entrance to Elveron, for now the howe was dwergar country and the portal had closed forever.

  Gwalchmai saw no sign of any of the ugly dwarfs, for he carried Arthur’s sword, which was a balefire in the dark chamber, but he sensed eyes upon him and a feeling of whispering all about

  Getain’s skeleton had crumbled away to powder and he wondered how this could have happened in the short time he had spent in Elveron. Then, looking up, he saw a beam of sunlight upon him through a hole in the roof, blasted there possibly by a lightning stroke, and knew that the dampness of the leaking rains had destroyed the ancient bones.

  His own sword still lay in the kist When he picked it up the hilt came away in his hand. He tipped the bronze scabbard and shook it. Only a trickle of rust came out.

  A distant gruff mutter of thunder echoed like a grumbling chuckle and he knew that he was still under the unfriendly eye of Thor.

  The golden torque was gone. Perhaps Thor had it back; perhaps someone else now shared his displeasure. Gwalchmai hoped that it was not Corenice.

  He wondered where she might be. Perhaps Thyra and Flann had gone looking foi food, now that he had been away from them a full night and a day. He regretted his thoughtlessness, but it would have been discourteous to have behaved in any other way.

  He came out of the barrow and looked around. No one was in sight. The sun was bright. The bees buzzed in the after-noon heat. There was nothing to do but wait until his companions came back.

  There was a hill not far away where he could get a fine view, but if he left the barrow and missed them, they -would not know where to look for him. He climbed upon the mound as the next highest lookout. Still nothing.

  After a little, he lay down in the long grass that grew there closed his eyes, and slept.

  “There was a farmer and his wife who felt that misfortune lay too heavily upon them and they wondered sometimes if it had been for the sin of pride.

  They had known pride in their country and to keep that pride alive and not let old glories be forgotten, they still called it Cambria, though almost everyone else named it Wales. They were proud that the Romans had not conquered it; that the Saxons had been unable to take the north, where they lived, though King Harold had overrun most of the southern counties; they were proudest of all that the Norman usurper had not dared try. True, his son, William the Second, had in three invasions done so. In this year of Our Lord, 1097, his armies had been thrown back with great losses for the third time, and they were proudest of all of that.

  Had they know that it would not be conquered for yet another two hundred years, their pride might still have been overweening though not as great—for in that year just named, their necks were bent by the chastising rod of the Creator and they learned the meaning of humility.

  They had felt pride of family, for though hard-working people, they had been well born and had come upon evil days through no fault of their own, which is a thing war brings to many.

  When they knew that after the years of disappointment and almost at the end of hope, they were at last to have a child, their joy and pride were almost too much to be borne.

  William said to his wife, Gwyneth, ‘We should speak of this only in whispers, for surely some witch will envy our happiness and do us some harm.’

  His wife laughed, but secretly she took all possible precautions, knowing that the world we see is but a -battlefield between devils and angels. She wore around her neck a- stone with a hole through it, on a red yam string. Witch balls were hung at each window. A knife was buried under the doorstep, pointing outward from the house, and a switch of mountain ash was placed across the horseshoe over the door.

  Both of them wore, tucked in their shoes, a piece of parchment with the Lord’s Prayer written on it

  They were greatly pleased when the baby, which was a girl child, was carried its full time and was born without mischance.

  However, as she developed into the age when she should babble and then learn to speak, it was a sore trial for them to find that she neither seemingly could shape words or do aught but coo and smile and laugh at the sunlight through the latticed window.

  It was then that they realized that there was no light of sense in her clear blue eyes and-that because of their sin it was through her that their pride was to be broken.

  Those were hard days and nights that followed. To watch her grow to be a fair child and see only a sweet little body with no mind within it seemed punishment far too great.

  William inquired, ‘Is there nothing we can do for her, at all, then?’

  The leech shook his head and answered, ‘Love her. There is nothing more that anyone can do. You must not chide yourselves. I have read in the writings of the ancients that there have been cases where some, though very few, have been born and lived long and have never owned a soul. Surely this girl of yours is such a one. It is God’s will, and it is for His own reasons.’

  But they would not be consoled and they went away weeping and they had no more pride in themselves or any other thing.

  Now when the child was three and was still without any wisdom, though seeming always in health and happy, there came a turn for the better.

  Until then, she had no real name. They had called her ‘Baby* and ’Precious One“ and ‘Little Love,” but in accordance with an old family custom they had vowed to name her according to whatever word she would first speak and she had never spoken.

  The window being open,
a corbie crow came and lighted upon the sill, looked inside, and strutted to and fro, croaking and cocking its head wisely at those within the room.

  Straightaway, the look of intelligence came into the little girl’s eyes as she watched the crow. She sat up hi her wicker basket, for she had never walked and her parents had to carry her if they went abroad. Her chin firmed and she lifted her head proudly, still watching. Then she turned and looked at her parents, lifting her hand and pointing at herself, and mimicked the bird, saying, ‘Caw! Caw! Cor— one!’ (Which latter means Crow.)

  As she had said her first word, her parents were bound by their vow; yet this seemed no name at all, for either girl or boy, and they regretted their clinging to family tradition.

  On the same day, perhaps understanding their distress, for suddenly she became a most knowing child, she spoke again and again pointed at herself, saying, ‘Nikky! Nikky!’

  So she had a name, which she had chosen for herself, for although her mother was not much more greatly pleased than she had been, her father said, ‘Surely it is no little thing to have the only girl in all the hill!? who is named Nikky, it not being a Cambrian name at all!’

  So she grew to be a beautiful young woman, dark of skin and hair, and she became much sought after, but she was not ready for courtship.

  She always stayed very close to her parents and returned bountifully the affection they gave her. Because of that, it was the so much stranger, when in the night, nearly at the time of her seventeenth birthday, she left the house alone, taking with her only a cloak and a small basket of food.

  She disappeared and none knew where she went.

  They were poor people, without great resources for journeying, but they sought her up and down the land without avail.

  In the end they returned without news of their daughter. Wherever she had gone, it was far away and in haste. Perhaps, like Kilmeny, who visited Fairyland, she might return without knowing where she ‘had been or how long she had been away.

  They felt that it would be too late for them.

  Her father grieved and would not be consoled, but her mother said, ‘I feel in my heart that she is safe and happy,

  William bach. There is nothing more that we can do. I have had the strangest thought that she was never really ours. She only came to live with us and let us love her for a little while, because we were lonely. Now the time has come for her to go to her own place.‘ There the matter rested, for they never saw her more.“

  (From Singular Happenings in Denbighshire—from the Earliest Times to the Present Day. Compiled and Annotated by Parson Evan Jones, Luddley Press, 1747)

  Humbert, Count of Monteran, Lord Paramount of twenty-four manors, had lands in the west of England that ran beside the Welsh marches.

  He had no wish to stir up trouble for himself and would have been gladly willing to have dwelt hi peace with such a hornet’s nest as was in Harlech, to the southwest of his holdings.

  Because of this he had held back from the invasions, to the best of his ability, sending only a token force at that time to join the Marshal of England, his liege lord.

  Some spoke against him, saying that if he had been more loyal, he might have added to his lands and they would have thrived far better themselves, having shared hi his increased wealth.

  His seneschal, Odo, the Black Boar, whom all feared, was such a one. He resented his slim purse, for his birth was as good as his master, the Count, and he felt that with money he might have lands and honors and at least the title of Baron.

  Having no doubt of his own courage and his generalship, he rode out of Count Humbert’s keep one day, at the head of a dozen men, and embarked with his horses in a ship lying in Dee Estuary.

  Down this they sailed, looking for some place to sack that would bring them wealth without danger, but beacons told of their coming and curraghs put out to meet them, filled with archers.

  So they coasted on at a safe distance until they saw no more smokes in the hills and, adding a few more miles for good hick, they brought the little ship in to a hidden cove and disembarked.

  From thence, having passed Caer-yn-arfon and most of Anglesea, they felt themselves unsuspected.

  They rode through the hills, searching for some monastery or abbey that might yield tribute rather than have the red cock crow on their rooftree, but there was not even a small church to rob or set alight. The only person they saw for a long time was an aged shepherd, tending his flock.

  Rather than permit him to give warning of their presence, Odo cut him down, and because they had no use for the sheep, they rode in among them slashing with their swords, until they were tired aad the survivors were far scattered.

  Then they rode on, their spite and anger somewhat slaked.

  After a little while and a long way ahead, they saw a young woman walking quickly. She had a light step and they took her to be fair, although even were she not, as the Black Boar said with a cruel laugh, “At night all cats are gray, and it is always night below decks.”

  So they rode in her direction.

  She was carrying only a small basket,‘ and when she heard the hoofbeats and saw the mounted men following, she dropped it, unclasped her cloak, letting it fall, strung up her kirtle above her knees, and began to run.

  The laughing men, in no haste, raised the view halloo and cantered easily after her—in no hurry to finish the hunt that could have but one end.

  She ran like a young doe, her white limbs flashing through the tall grass of a little meadow they had just entered, but she was becoming exhausted and staggered as she went on across it

  There was a hill beyond and she appeared to be making for it, so the men spread out to intercept her. When she saw that she was cut off from this doubtful refuge, she cried out pitifully in a language they did not understand and suddenly turned and ran with all her remaining strength toward a mound in the meadow.

  She threw herself flat on the mound as though the grass could hide her.

  The Normans dismounted then and surrounded the mound, coming toward it with swords sheathed, joking obscenely in loud voices, some already shedding their mail shirts and helmets and dropping their sword belts.

  Black-bearded Odo was first upon the mound, his little piggish eyes fixed only upon the girl’s disarray. He was there-fore, the more astonished when a man such as he had never seen rose beside her with a naked blade in his hand.

  He was a tall man, garbed in gaily decorated leather. He was not burly like those in the troop of raiders, but he had a look of wiry strength and his arms, bare to the shoulder in a sleeveless jacket, were bunched with muscle. Odo had a short moment in which to realize this.

  He roared and reached for his sword hilt The steel was not half out of the scabbard when his head flew one way and his body fell another. There was another man who saw it, upon the side of the mound. He stood, stupidly staring, slow to take in what he had seen, and this hesitation brought death to him also.

  Gwalchmai, for of course it was he, struck him down and, picking up the strange girl whom he had found near him instead of Thyra, whom he had expected, ran lightly with her through this gap in the surrounding ring.

  The nearby hill was the safest haven. As he began to climb it, the girl struggled and he put her down. She looked indignant, but exceedingly pretty—in a dark way. Not to compare with Thyra or Corenice, he thought, but extremely nice to look at. Too bad that she had the temper of a wasp and no gratitude at all!

  “Keep your hands off mel I can manage by myself!”

  “Do it then!” he grunted and they climbed the hill side by side, followed by the remaining Normans, burdened by their heavy metal and panting in the summer heat

  On the side of the bill they crossed a,ruined revetment and when they reached the top found a still more ancient ringwall of stones and masonry that had at some far time been subjected to an intense heat, as in places the fortifications had actually been melted and were fused together hi a glassy mass.

  They had
no time to look, or speculate, for the pursuers were upon them.

  At the entrance to this old fort, fallen rock had narrowed the gateway to a postern. Here the two made their stand, protected on both sides by the crumbled walls, but with nothing to shield them in the rear.

  Here Excalibur flashed and flamed and cleft skulls, with or without helmets, for Arthur’s sword had not lost strength or keenness in its long waiting for a strong hand.

  Here men fell and others cursed and came again and felL

  Here the girl, Nikky, fought also, for when a man came over the wall and ran around to take them from behind, she picked up a fallen Norman sword and met him with its point in his throat

  Thereafter they stood back to back, but for a long time no one approached the postern.

  There were four remaining of the raiders. These retired to the lower ruins and there held conclave. The horses rambled freely, grazing in the meadow. A few strays began to drift away toward better pasture and this decided the course of action for the unhappy remnant of Odo’s followers.

  It was clear that only hard knocks and no riches lay here. The men captured four of the wandering- steeds and rode away in the direction of their ship, leading a couple of the others. The rest of the scattered warhorses were left behind.

  In the hills the Normans were ambushed and killed, near the spot where the murdered shepherd lay, and Count Humbert never did learn what became of his seneschal, his missing men, and a stolen ship.

  Now that the two were left alone in the fort, they remained ready arid alert for a long time, not being sure that they were yet safe. Gwalchmai was hungry, but there was nothing to eat.

  He was thirsty also. And there was water, for in the center of the ancient ruin a dewpond had been constructed for its defenders.

  This was a shallow basin that had been excavated and Ened with clay. Then a layer of straw had been added and more clay firmly packed over it, tamped down, and smoothed. As no air is entirely dry, this cool surface caused it to deposit its moisture as dew, and, condensing into drops, the water runs down and eventually fills the pond.