Merlin pc-2

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  'No one!' Blaise raised a hand to the throng around us. 'In the day of trouble, these people will follow you to the grave and beyond – and you call them no one."

  'And you talk too much – and too loudly. Come with us, you disagreeable druid, and let me stop your yammering with bread and meat. A full belly will make you sensible.'

  'It is true I have not eaten for many days,' Blaise allowed. 'But what of that? I am used to it by now. Yet, I would welcome a drink to wash the dust from my throat, and a long talk with my good friend.'

  That you shall have, and all else besides.' I climbed into the saddle, put down a hand to him and pulled him up behind me. And we rode on to Maelwys' villa together, chattering all the way.

  There was the usual ceremony at our arrival, the usual greetings and welcomings – which I would have found gratifying, but for the fact that they kept me from my friend. There was so much we had to say to one another, and yet now that we were together all the urgency and longing I might have felt in his absence, but did not, suddenly sprang into being. I had to talk to him now!

  Be that as it may, it was still some time before we could speak together alone – indeed, I began to think it had been more private in the market-place!

  'Tell me, Blaise, where have you been? What have you been doing since last I saw you? Have you travelled? I heard there was trouble within the Brotherhood, what news of that?'

  He sipped his watered wine and winked over the rim of his cup. 'If I had remembered that you were this inquisitive, I would not have acknowledged you in the square.'

  'Do you blame me? How long has it been? Five years? Six?"

  'If a day.'

  'Why did you call out to me in front of everyone like that?'

  'I wanted your attention.'

  'And that of every man, woman, child, and beast in Maridunum as well apparently.'

  He shrugged good-naturedly. 'I only spoke the truth. I care not who hears it.' Blaise laid aside the cup and leaned towards me. 'You have grown well, Hawk. All the promises of childhood are being fulfilled, I can see it. Yes, you will do.'

  'I seem to be growing into my saddle. I tell you, Blaise, I have seen more of this Island of the Mighty than Bran the Blessed himself in these last years.'

  'And what have you seen with those golden eyes of yours, Hawk?'

  'I have seen the mood of the people change – and not for the better; I have seen fear spreading through the land like a plague.'

  'That I have seen as well, and I can think of fairer sights to look upon.' He raised his cup and tossed down the last of the wine and wiped his moustache with his sleeve. 'There is trouble in this land of ours, Hawk. Men are turning their backs on the truth; they toil at sowing lies.' The Learned Brotherhood?'

  'Hafgan, God keep his soul, was right to dissolve the Brotherhood. A few came over to us at first, but now most of them have gone back. They have chosen a new Archdruid to lead them – a man named Hen Dallpen, you may remember him.'

  'I remember.'

  'So the Learned continue the councils and observances, and Hen Dallpen leads them.' His voice became low with dread. 'But, Hawk, they are falling away; they are sliding back into the old ways – the very thing I have been trying to prevent.' 'What do you mean, Blaise? What old ways?' Truth in the heart,' he said, repeating the age-old triad, 'strength in the arm, and honesty in the tongue. This the druid kind have taught for a hundred lifetimes. But it was not always so.

  There was a time when we, like all the unenlightened, believed that only living blood would satisfy the gods -' He paused, forcing the next words out with an obvious effort. 'Just a few days ago, in the hills not far from here, the Chief Druid of Llewchr Nor kindled the midsummer fire with a Wicker Man.' 'No!' I had heard of human sacrifice, of course – I had nearly been one myself! But this was different, darker, perverse and wilfully unholy.

  'Believe it,' Blaise answered gravely. There were four victims burned to death in that hideous wicker cage. It sickens me, Hawk, but they have persuaded themselves that our present troubles have come upon us because we have abandoned the old gods to follow the Christ, and the only way to fight powerful magic is with even more powerful magic. So they have revived the murderous customs.'

  'What is to be done?'

  'Wait, that is not all, Myrddin Bach. There is more. They have turned against you.'

  'Me? Why? What did I -' Then it came to me. 'Because of the dancing stones?'

  'Partly. They believe Hafgan was deluded by Taliesin and induced to follow Jesu. Therefore, they have turned against Taliesin, but he is dead and beyond their schemes, so now they seek to destroy you, his heir. It is suggested that his soul lives on in you.' He spread his hands by way of explanation. 'You possess a power none of them ever imagined existed.'

  I could only shake my head. First Morgian, now the Learned Brotherhood – I, who had never lifted a hand against another in my short life, was now the object of hatred by powerful enemies I did not even know.

  Blaise felt my distress. 'Worry not,' he said, gripping my arm, 'neither fear. Greater is he that is in you, than he that is in them, eh?'

  'Why should they want to harm me?' 'Because they fear you.' He gripped my arm with a hand of iron. 'I tell you the truth, Myrddin, it is because of who you are.'

  'Who am I, Blaise?'

  He did not answer at once, but neither did he look away. His intense eyes peered into mine as if he would search me out inside. 'Do you not know, then?' he asked at last.

  'Hafgan talked about a Champion. He called me Emrys.' There, you see?' 'I do not see at all.'

  'Well, perhaps it is time.' He released my arm and leaned down to retrieve his staff. Taking it up, he held the smooth length of rowan wood over me and began declaiming: 'Myrddin ap Taliesin, you are the Long-Awaited One, whose coming was foretold with wonders in the sky. You are the Bright Light of the Britons, shining against the gathering gloom. You are the Emrys, Immortal Bard-Priest, the Keeper of the Spirit of our People.'

  Then he knelt down, and laying the staff aside, took up the hem of my tunic and kissed it. 'Look not with disfavour upon your servant, Lord Emrys.'

  'Have you lost your reason, Blaise? It is only me, Myrddin.' My heart beat in my throat. 'I am not – not what you said.'

  'You are and will be, Hawk,' he replied. 'But why look so downhearted? Our enemies are not beating down the door.' He laughed and the intensity of the moment passed. We were, once more, just two friends talking beside the fire.

  A steward came to refill our cups. I lifted mine and said, 'Health to you, Blaise, and to our enemies' enemies!'

  We drank together and the old bond between us grew stronger. Two friends… there are stronger forces on earth, perhaps, but few as tenacious and enduring as the bond between true friends.

  FOURTEEN

  That autumn, when the weather finally broke towards winter, Blaise and I returned to my long-abandoned lessons. I studied with greater intensity now because I had the hunger, and because I so wanted to make up for lost time – committing the stories and songs of our people to memory; sharpening my powers of observation; increasing my store of knowledge about the earth and her ways, and those of all her creatures; practising the harp; delving deep into mysteries and secrets of earth and air, fire and water.

  But it soon became apparent that in the realm of things men call magic, my knowledge outstripped his. Gern-y-fhain had taught me well; what is more, the Hill Folk possessed many secrets even the Learned Brotherhood did not know. These I possessed as well.

  The winter proceeded, one cold leaden day following another, until at last the sun began to linger longer in the sky and the land to warm beneath its rays. It was then that I reached the end of Blaise's tutelage. 'There is nothing more I can give you, Hawk,' he told me. 'On my life, I cannot think of another thing to teach. Yet, there are many you might teach me.'

  I stared at him for a moment. 'But there is so much – I know so little.'

  'True,' he said, his lean face light
ing in a grin. 'Is that not the beginning of true wisdom?'

  'I am in earnest, Blaise. There must be more.'

  'And I am in earnest, too, Myrddin Bach. There is nothing more that I can teach you. Oh, a few of the minor stories of our race, perhaps; but nothing of import.'

  'I cannot have learned it all,' I protested.

  'True again. There is much more to be learned, but I am not the one to teach you. Whatever else there is, you must learn it on your own.' He shook his head lightly. 'Do not look so downcast, Hawk. It is no disgrace for pupil to leave master behind. It happens.'

  'But will you not go with me?'

  'Where you go, Myrddin Emrys, I cannot follow.'

  'Blaise -'

  He raised a cautionary finger. 'Nevertheless, see that you do not confuse knowledge with wisdom, as so many do.'

  Well, we did continue on together, but not as before. In fact, more and more, I found myself the master instructing Blaise, who professed to marvel at my acuity, and said so many flattering things that I became embarrassed to open my mouth in front of him. But in all it was a good and profitable winter for me.

  When spring opened the roads to travel once more, I rode out with Maelwys and seven of his men – all of us armed – to make the first circuit of his lands that year. We spoke with his chiefs and received their accounting of how the people of each district and settlement had fared the winter. On occasion, Maelwys settled disputes and administrated justice in cases that exceeded the chiefs authority, or acted in place of the chief to spare hard feelings.

  He also told each chief that he wanted young men for his warband, and that from now on the year's increase would go to its support. No one objected to the plan and, in fact, most had foreseen it and were only too glad to do their part.

  Maelwys showed himself an astute ruler: by turns sympathetic, indulgent, stern, unyielding – but always fair and just in his dealings and judgements.

  'Men resent unfairness,' he told me as we rode between Clewdd and Caer Nead, two points along the ring of hillforts that served to protect his lands. 'But they despise injustice. It is slow poison, and always deadly.'

  Then you have no fear, lord, for your judgements are the heart of justice."

  He cocked his head to one side as he regarded me. The others rode behind us, talking idly among themselves, so he spoke what was on his mind. 'Charis tells me that you have given your heart to Lord Custennin's daughter.' That lightning came out of a clear blue sky. I did not know my mother surmised so much, or so accurately.

  The colour rose to my cheeks, but I answered him straight out. 'Her name is Ganieda and, yes, I love her.'

  Maelwys considered this, and for a moment all I heard was the soft plod of the horses' hooves over the new green turf. Then the king said, 'Have you given a thought to your future, Myrddin?'

  'I have, lord," I said, 'and it is on my heart to make my way as soon as may be so that I may go and take Ganieda from her father's hearth to my own.'

  'So that is how it is between you.'

  'That is how it is.'

  'Then perhaps on our return to Maridunum we should do some talking.'

  That was all he said and, indeed, it was all he needed to say. We arrived shortly at the next, and last, settlement: Caer Nead, a cluster of wattle huts and briar-fenced cattle yards within sight of a small hillfort.

  Maelwys was anxious to get back to Maridunum before nightfall and so we did not tarry in Caer Nead, but conducted our business quickly. By midday we were ready and left as soon as decorum allowed. There was nD great hurry; the distance was not far. Yet I noticed that, the closer to home, the more anxious Maelwys became. I did not say anything, and I do not think anyone else would have noticed in any case. But I watched his jaw set firm and his mouth turn down in a hard, straight line. The words he spoke grew more terse and the silence between them longer.

  So I tried to discover what it might be that was troubling him, and could come to no conclusion… until I saw the smoke.

  We saw it together. I gave a shout just as Maelwys reined up. 'Fire!'

  He took one look at the hill-line before us. 'Maridunum!' he cried, and put leather to his mount.

  We all followed him in his breakneck flight. The smoke, at first a thin, shadowy wisp in the air, blackened and thickened into a huge dark column. Closer, we could smell the stench of burning and hear the screams of the townsfolk.

  The raiders had held off until they could be certain of their reception. I imagine they thanked their heathen gods with every breath in their bodies upon learning that the king was away and the town virtually unprotected.

  But they were overcautious. Or perhaps they had lingered too long with their boats before coming inland. However it was, we caught them in midst of their destruction, our horses hurtling down on them without warning. We took them on the points of our swords as we charged through their scattering ranks in the old market square.

  Though they fought with some courage when cornered, they were no match for mounted warriors seeking blood vengeance. In a matter of a few moments the corpses of a score of Irish raiders lay sprawled in the stone-flagged square.

  We dismounted and began pulling down the burning straw of the roofs so that the fire did not spread, then turned to the bodies of the dead raiders to retrieve what they had stolen. The town was quiet, and except for the crackle of flames and the grating cry of the carrion birds already gathering for then-feast, the air was dead still.

  That should have been a warning, I suppose. But the fight was over and we were already starting to cool down. No one expected an ambush.

  We did not even realize what was happening until the first spears were already whistling through the air. Someone screamed and two of our party fell with spears in their stomachs. The Irish were on us instantly.

  We learned later that there were three big warboats in the Towy – each carrying thirty warriors. All of these, save the twenty whose blood stained the stones at our feet, came on us at once with a tremendous roar. Seventy against seven.

  The next moments were a terror of confusion as we ran to the horses and leaped to our saddles. But the raiders were streaming into the square from all directions and we were too close bound to make a charge. In any event, the square was soon so crowded we could hardly swing our swords. I saw one of our men hauled from the saddle and his brains dashed out beneath his own horse's hooves.

  I saw Maelwys struggling to rally us to his side, his arm rising and falling again and again as he struck out at those surrounding him. Spears splintered before his blade and more than one man went down screaming.

  I took up the call and drove towards him., Into my path leaped two spearmen. The horse shied and dodged, nearly pitching me from his back. The animal's hooves slipped against the smooth stone and it fell, rolling onto its side, pinning my leg.

  One spear thrust past my ear, anotfier jabbed towards my chest. I swung with my sword and knocked it aside, kicking myself free of my mount as it thrashed to its feet.

  I rolled up to face two more raiders, making four together, all with iron-tipped spears levelled on me. One of them gave a shout and they rushed me.

  I saw the enemy move towards me, saw their faces dark and grim, saw their eyes gleaming hard like sharp iron. Their hands were tight on the shafts of their spears, their knuckles white. Sweat misted on their faces and the cords tightened on their necks…

  I saw it all and more – ah" with dreadful, heart-stopping clarity as the speeding flow of time dwindled to a bare trickle. Every action slowed – as if all around me was suddenly overcome with an impossible lethargy.

  I saw the spearheads edging towards me, swinging lazily through the air. My own blade came up sharp and smart, biting through the wooden shafts, slicing the spearpoints from the hafts as easily as striking the heads of thistles from their stems. I let the force of the blow spin me away so that, as my attackers fell forward behind their blunted spears, I was gone.

  I scanned the melee. The square churned
and writhed with the fight. The sound was a booming, featureless roar – like that of blood racing through the ears. Our warriors, horribly outmanned, strove valiantly, fighting for their lives.

  Maelwys held his own across the square, leaning low in the saddle, hewing mightily. His arm flailed with a fierce and violent rhythm. His blade streamed scarlet ribbons.

  He had been identified, however, and more and more of the enemy lumbered towards him in that strange, languid motion brought on by my heightened awareness.

  I put out my hand and caught up the reins of my mount, swinging up into the saddle. I turned the horse's head and urged it forth towards Maelwys.

  Moving with the easy roll of the horse beneath me, I swung the sword in my hand first on the left and then on the right, slashing, slashing, striking again and again, my blade a shining circle of light around me. Men toppled like cordwood in my wake as I forced my way to the king's side.

  My sword sang, ringing clear and true as it struck, relentless as the sea swell driven before the storm. We fought together, Maelwys and I, and soon the stone under our horses' hooves was slick with blood.

  But still the enemy swarmed around us in fighting frenzy, slashing with the knives in their hands and jabbing with then-spears. None dared come within the arc of my blade, however, for that was certain death. Instead, they tried for my horse, stabbing at its legs and belly.

  One howling fool leaped at my bridle strap, hoping to drag the horse's head down; I gave him something to howl about as his ear left his face. Another lost a hand when he made a clumsy thrust at the animal's flanks. Yet another collapsed in a quivering heap when the flat of my blade came down hard on the crown of his leather war helm, as he made to leap for me.

  These things happened leisurely, almost laughably so, each action deliberate and slow. Thus, I had time not only to react, but to plan my next move and my next, before the first had been completed. Once I fell into the uncanny rhythm of this strange way of fighting, I found that I could move with impunity among the absurdly lethargic enemy.