Nimue came with me, mute and shivering, and finding the kitchen empty for the night, I seated the girl in a quiet spot next to a warm oven and began rummaging in the cupboard. There was some hyssop among the herbs, so I brewed up a batch of tea and added a dribble of honey to the pot while the priestess sat in her corner and stared, unblinking, into space.
She reached for the cup with both hands and began taking little sips of the warm, sweet stuff, then looked up at me gratefully and asked, “Is he like that often?”
“Drunk and half crazy? I don’t know,” I answered, thinking such an adventure with Pellinore would put anyone in shock for a while.
“No,” she said firmly, “the White One, who stood in the ring of fire just now.”
It took me a moment to realize she was referring to Merlin.
“The Magician? No, I don’t think so,” I replied, wondering what she had seen that the rest of us were not privy to. I pulled up a stool and sat next to her. “At least, I’ve never seen him like that before, but I haven’t known him very long.”
She took some more tea, and a small smile crept to her mouth. “Now,” she murmured, her eyes grown very big and dark, “now I know why Pellinore was sent to me. To bring me here…to bring me to him…”
Her words floated lightly in the stillness of the empty kitchen like the innocent confidence of a child, and their full meaning dawned on me slowly.
“Nimue!” I exclaimed, aghast at the notion, then froze in silence.
The girl was still her sweet-faced self, but it was the Goddess who looked out of her eyes at me.
“Do not question what you do not understand,” She said, Her voice a deep growl. “It is not for mortals to choose where love shall flower.”
I looked away hastily, unable to bear the weight of that gaze, and a moment later felt the girl’s hand slide into mine again.
“I told you,” she said in her own clear tones, “something special was going to come of it. I just did not know who or what it was before.”
She sounded so happy I peered at her curiously. If I were being drawn toward such a passion, I’d be terrified.
“Aren’t you scared?” I asked, thinking of the awesomeness of the Sorcerer.
“Of course,” she answered softly, looking down into her now empty cup. “After all, he may not even notice me.” She faltered for a moment, as though heartbroken at the prospect.
I stared at her, dumbfounded. She who was so calm and sure in conversation with Pellinore, so gentle and firm in guiding me and so powerful when filled by the very presence of the Goddess now sat in the shadow of a hearth and worried that she would not be found desirable.
The idea was so preposterous, it was all I could do to keep from laughing. I could not imagine any man not being captivated by her, and if, as Arthur said, the Enchanter had a weakness for young girls, Nimue had nothing to fear. Seeing the priestess’ wistful look, I threw my arms around her in a quick hug.
Surely the Goddess had been right; who was I to question the love between any two people? After all, love comes in many forms, and should be cherished and respected in all its manifestations, no matter how strange they appear to others.
So I sat with my friend until she ceased to shiver, and together we waited for Arthur to arrive.
Chapter XXXIX
Treachery
At last the party at the Companions’ camp broke up and knots of people began to make their way into the Hall. The younger warriors were eager to be off down the hill to the tent city that had sprung up on the plain below where no matter what the hour one could always find a game of chance, a cask of wine, or a willing lady. The older guests and those who held themselves separate from such brawling were congregating in the Hall.
I peeked out of the kitchen doorway and saw Arthur at the same time he saw me. He casually threaded his way through the groups that milled about the Hall and when no one was looking slipped into the dimly lit kitchen.
The air of jocular celebration dropped from him and he turned his attention immediately to the priestess.
“What is this about treachery?”
Nimue faced him, tense and alert, and leaning forward whispered, “M’lord, I have reason to think there are spies within your camp who mean you no good.”
“Spies? For whom?”
Merlin’s voice, no louder than her own, caught us all by surprise. He had simply appeared at Arthur’s side and was staring suspiciously at the girl beside me.
The priestess returned his look calmly. “I’m not sure. But I would prefer to talk about it in a more private place.”
With a nod Arthur turned and led us down a passage to the part of the building set aside for his personal use.
While he closed the inner leather draperies, which muffled even the least sound from the Hall, I stared curiously about his quarters.
The room itself was comfortable, without pretense or decoration. The bed was a narrow cot, above which Excalibur blazed on the wall like a gold-and-silver flame. It hung at an angle, ready to be drawn should there be a disturbance in the night. The jewels on the pommel glimmered eerily in the flickering lamplight and the embroidery of the scabbard shimmered and moved with a life of its own.
Merlin was checking the shutters of the windows behind a long table that reminded me of home. I glanced at the items scattered across its top: maps and wax tablets, notes on possible posting stations, and a rolled manuscript lay beside the inkstand. A chunk of red wax waited to be brought to life by the impression of the Dragon Seal.
“There,” said Arthur, once he was satisfied that all was snug and guarded from prying eyes or ears. “Please, have a seat and tell us your story.”
Nimue sat down in one of the camp chairs across the table from Merlin and folded her hands primly in her lap.
“Well,” she began, “when Pellinore and I were coming through the woods last night, my horse stumbled, and I was thrown to the ground. It was in the woodlands where the rocks lie like gray wethers sleeping in the grass, and I hurt my arm in the fall, so we decided to spend the night there, and not come on until daylight.”
She looked up, first at Arthur, then at Merlin. The Magician was staring down at her impassively, his high cheekbones and deep-set eyes accentuated by the shadows of the lamplight. To judge by the lack of interest in his expression, she might as well have been reporting the number of chickens hatched the week before.
“We were sleeping in a thicket not far from the track, and I woke before dawn to the sound of hoofbeats coming from different directions. The riders stopped and talked not a stone’s throw from us. One had come from Sarum, and he gave a detailed report on the men gathered here, and what their disposition was, while the other laughed and asked if anything was suspected.
“The first said no, because everyone was absorbed in the celebration. Then he inquired how it looked ‘at home,’ and the second man allowed that with so many nobles and warriors gone off to the wedding, the time seemed to be ripe.”
A gust of air rattled the shutter, and the shadows of Merlin’s face sharpened as the lamp guttered in the draft. I shivered involuntarily, but Nimue never flinched under his scrutiny, and after a moment she went on with her story.
“The men had turned away and there was more muffled talk; the only thing I heard clearly was the name Brychan. When they parted, however, they made a pledge for freedom from the British yoke; then each went back the way he had come.
“I do not know,” she concluded, “either who the men were, or what sort of threat they represent, but it seemed wisest to tell you of it as soon as possible.”
Arthur had been listening intently and now he leaned forward.
“Can you show me where this meeting took place?”
I lit another lamp and brought it to the table as Arthur and Nimue turned their attention to the map.
“This is Sarum,” Arthur explained, “and here is Avebury, so your Sanctuary should be…there,” he finished, putting his thumb down near a blot of
ink.
“I think,” she answered, surveying the map and trying to decide upon distances, “that it was about here.”
Arthur studied the position of her fingertip, then glanced up at Merlin. The Sorcerer was looking as much at the priestess as he was at the map, his expression unreadable.
“Certainly a spy could make it from Sarum to that spot and back in a single night’s ride,” Arthur confirmed, and Merlin nodded. “And whoever they were meeting could have come either from north, or east, or even west.”
“West seems most likely,” Merlin sighed, “if the Irish chief Brychan is involved.”
The two men looked at each other speculatively, and Arthur straightened up.
“The point about all the warriors’ being here at Sarum is well taken,” he mused, “and one I’ve worried about, although I can’t see how to send anyone home without causing ill feelings. If the Irish hope to capitalize on their ancestral ties with kingdoms such as Demetia, this would be a perfect time to do it.”
He paced to the end of the table and then back, chewing thoughtfully on the end of his mustache.
“We have to assume that the spy is still in camp, so we mustn’t do or say anything that lets on that we’ve got wind of something.”
“Girl,” said Merlin, looking at the priestess again and suddenly blushing. “Ah…that is…you must have a name?”
“Yes, M’lord,” she answered levelly, “I am called Nimue, and am one of the Lady’s students.”
“Ah, yes,” the Enchanter muttered, staring down at the map. “Well, Nimue…”
He stopped then and looked back at her. There was a long silence while the two of them stared at each other, and I held my breath. Arthur, quite unaware of what was happening, continued to pace, and finally Merlin cleared his throat.
“Nimue, are you practiced in the Sight?” he asked.
She looked down at her hands, which were still clasped quietly in her lap, and I marveled at her composure.
“Not practiced, M’lord, but I have occasionally seen things,” she answered.
“Will you try it in this matter, for the King?”
There was a gentleness in the Magician’s tone I had never heard before, and I let my breath out slowly. Whatever their relationship was going to be, he was at least being patient with her and I smiled as Nimue nodded her assent.
A fresh rushlight was lit and Merlin held it up before the girl’s eyes. Arthur came and stood next to me while Nimue stared, unblinking, at the flame. Her dark eyes grew fathomless, and I could see the flame of the light reflected in the pupils as her concentration gave way to a blank stare. Her hands remained immobile but her breathing grew husky, and a beading of sweat appeared on her forehead.
“A boat,” she whispered. “No, several boats. Tall as houses…and a man with a strange name, come from the Continent. Theo…his name is Theo, and he swaggers like an outlaw. He’s lost…no, cut loose from past loyalties…his people are gone and he’s searching for Arthur.”
She cried out sharply, closing her eyes and clasping her head with both hands. The beautiful face contorted in pain.
“There, there,” Merlin crooned softly, handing me the rushlight and laying both hands on her head. “What else did you see, Little Nimue with the Goddess Eyes?”
The girl’s face began to relax and the deep furrows between her brows melted away. “I…I don’t know…just the men with the boats…”
She opened her eyes and slowly focused on Merlin, whose fingers were gently massaging her temples. “That doesn’t help much, does it?” she asked.
The Enchanter left off smoothing her temples and ran his hand over her hair as a parent or a lover might. It was a gesture both soothing and protective, and I suspected he wasn’t even aware of it as he tried to comfort her.
“That is for the King and me to decide. For now, you have done us a great service, and your vision will be of some use, somehow. The warning you brought about Brychan is, in itself, invaluable. I think now it would be best for you and M’lady simply to go back to your lodgings and get a good night’s sleep. And, of course, not mention this to anyone.”
The Magician was actually smiling at the priestess and she looked back to her lap shyly.
“M’lord,” she said, “I have no lodgings.”
“You can stay with me,” I blurted out, realizing too late that she might have been counting on a different invitation. “That is,” I amended hastily, “if you want to.”
She smiled up at me with relief and pleasure, and I was grateful to see that I had not spoiled some divine plan. If I had not seen and heard the Goddess speaking from her, I would have sworn Nimue was a guileless young woman, not given to intrigue. But knowing there was a greater scheme involved, I worried that I might inadvertently interfere with the Goddess’ plans, for the Goddess Herself was no innocent girl.
“That is most kind of you, M’lady,” Nimue said, and when I glanced at Merlin there was nothing in his expression to indicate that he was disconcerted, so I decided no harm had been done and retreated into the safety of silence.
Arthur continued his pacing, totally unaware of anything except the threat to Britain, and I envied him his single-mindedness. Even after we gathered up our wraps and Arthur walked us home, it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. I kissed him gently on the cheek and sent him back to the Hall with a maternal pat, and I’m not sure he noticed either action.
Vinnie was already asleep, so Brigit and I made up a place for Nimue on the bench under my window. When we had tucked her in for the night the priestess looked up and smiled, murmuring drowsily, “Bless you,” though I couldn’t tell if it was the girl or the Goddess who was speaking.
***
The dark currents of implied treason were lulled by a good night’s sleep, and I woke next morning to find the priestess had long since gone and my governess was prowling about the room like a cat on the track of a mouse. She came to a stop when she reached the niche where Nimue had slept.
“What ever is the matter, Vinnie?” I asked, yawning and propping myself on my elbow to watch as she lifted a corner of the mattress, holding it gingerly between two fingers and standing back the full length of her arm.
“I hear you brought a witch home last night, M’lady.” Her voice was carefully controlled, as though she were trying to hide a grievous disappointment, and she gave me a reproachful look.
“Witch? Well, I don’t know about that,” I temporized, wondering what she meant by the term.
“Pagan mistress of secrets, that’s what she is,” Vinnie announced, dropping the edge of the pallet. “Ladies have no business in matters of religion,” she added with a sniff.
“But the Goddesses themselves are women!” I pointed out, amused at the matron’s reasoning. “And there have been druidesses ever since time began.”
“Heathen aberrations,” Vinnie hissed. “Saint Paul told us what to think about that sort of thing.”
“Hey, where are you going with that?” I asked, suddenly alarmed. Vinnie had wrestled the cushion to the floor and was tugging it toward the doorway.
“Taking it outside to wash it down for lice,” she replied resolutely.
“Oh, come now, Vinnie,” said Brigit, breezing into the room and opening the curtains that shrouded the window. “One can be Pagan without being either the Devil or unclean. Look at Her Highness, for instance”—and she nodded in my direction. “Would you say she is a direct relative of the Evil One?”
“That’s different,” the matron flared back. “She’s not running around in the woods conjuring up Things best left alone. At least, not yet. But I don’t trust these priestesses with their little gold knives and ancient spells…and with the Lady herself due to arrive today, who knows what will happen to Her Highness?”
“Today!”
I leapt out of bed and ran to the washbasin, all other thoughts wiped out by the specter of the Lady keening in the woods beneath that pillar of skulls. No longer could the confrontation be
avoided, and my heart began to pound as it had when we had come face to face at the Black Lake. The High Priestess had only banished me then, tangling my life with mists and heartbreak; what vengeance would she work on me now that I had no place to run to?
But even while I splashed about at the washstand common sense took over. There was no proof that she carried a grudge for that childhood indiscretion; maybe she would overlook the encounter after all this time, and we could start fresh as adults, guided by the light of present circumstances.
“The Lady of the Lake is going to be my sister-in-law,” I said slowly, reaching for the towel Brigit proffered, “so I must be prepared to greet her properly and make her feel comfortable at Arthur’s court.”
“What if Arthur doesn’t feel comfortable about having her here?” my governess persisted, absentmindedly helping Brigit put the pallet back on the window seat.
“Arthur gets on very well with Morgan,” I answered, trying to reassure myself as well as Vinnie. Morgause, of course, was a forbidden subject, but he had made it clear that he trusted and relied upon the Lady. “And I’m sure the Queen Mother will be glad to see her,” I added, remembering Igraine’s effort to explain her daughter to me.
“The Square’s in a turmoil already,” Brigit interjected, folding Nimue’s blankets and patting the bolster into place. “By the time Mass was finished, there were mobs of people outside the Hall. A party of foreigners was arriving and traffic was blocked in each direction, what with everyone stopping to gape at them.”
“How did you know they were foreigners?” I asked, thinking that I couldn’t recognize more than a handful of the population as it was.
“By their clothes, and the fact they spoke something other than Latin or Celtic. They’re rugged, weathered men, with scarves tied about their heads, and tight-fitting sweaters such as fisherfolk wear,” she answered.
Child of the Northern Spring (Guinevere Trilogy) Page 41
