Merlin pc-2

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  'Hope,' I replied. 'As my father was a believer in the True God, he had won eternal life through the grace of Lord Jesu, the Christ. One day they will be reunited in Paradise. That is the hope and promise that sustains her.' It was a clean thrust and I felt the blade go in.

  She smiled again and I felt the power leap up in her, as it reached out to me like a hand poised to slap. 'We need not dwell upon such unhappiness,' Morgian said. 'We have other things to discuss.'

  'Do we, lady?'

  'Not here; not now. But come and visit me again,' she invited. 'You know the way, I think. Or Pelleas will show you. We might become friends, you and I. Oh, I should like that, Merlin, to be your friend.' Those striking green eyes narrowed seductively. 'You would like that, too. I know you would. There is much I could teach you.'

  Such was the power of the woman that even though words like 'friend' were so unnatural, so alien to her, I still believed she meant it. Her charm could beguile and it could confuse and convince; it could make the most impossible, repulsive suggestions seem logical and attractive.

  I said nothing, so she continued, 'Oh, but you are soon leaving, are you not? Well, another time. Yes, we will meet again, Merlin. Trust on it.'

  The prospect chilled me to the marrow. Great Light, spread your protecting wings around me!

  She pulled the veil across her face once more and stepped back abruptly. 'I must not keep you,' she said, and turning away made a small flicking motion with her hands.

  I could move once more, and lingered there no longer, hurrying from the hall and through the corridor beyond, anxious to put as much distance between Morgian and myself as possible. Outside, the horses were ready and I vaulted to the saddle without a backward glance.

  Gwendolau was waiting with the others and regarded me closely as I swung into the saddle, perhaps sensing something amiss. 'One other will be coming,' I told him. 'Pelleas is riding with us.'

  'Is everything well with you, Merlin? You look as if someone has just danced across your grave.'

  I forced a laugh. 'There is nothing wrong with me that a good day's ride will not cure.'

  He climbed into his saddle beside me. 'Are you certain?'

  'Yes, brother, I am certain.' I gripped his arm; I needed the reassurance of flesh just then. 'But I thank you for your concern.'

  The big man shrugged amiably. 'I am only thinking of myself. My sister would flay me alive if I let any ill befall her husband.'

  'For the sake of your oversized hide, I will try never to let that happen,' I told him with a laugh, and felt Morgian's influence receding.

  Pelleas came alongside a moment later. He had a small bag slung on the back of his horse and a great grin on his face. 'I am ready,' he announced happily.

  'Then let us ride, my friends,' called Gwendolau. The day is speeding before us!'

  We rode out from the forecourt and through the tower-bound gates of Belyn's palace, and no one came to see us away.

  SEVEN

  They say Merlin slew a thousand thousand, that the blood of the enemy ran red upon the land, that rivers stank with floating corpses from Arderydd to Caer Ligualid, that the sky darkened with the wings of feasting birds flocking to the battlefield, that the smoke of the cremation fires rolled to the very dome of heaven…

  They say Merlin mounted to the sky, taking the shape of an avenging hawk to fly away to the mountains.

  Yet, when the voices of the searchers rang in the wood, where did Merlin hide? In what pit did Merlin cower while they cried out to him?

  O, Wise Wolf, tell me why was the light of the sun taken from me? Why was the living heart carved from my breast? Why do I haunt the desolate wastes, hearing only the sound of my own voice in the mournful sigh and moan of the wind on bare rock?

  Tell me also, fair sister, how long has it been? How many years have passed me here in Celyddon's womb?

  What is that you say? What of Morgian?

  Ah, yes, I have often wondered… what of Morgian?

  That first time, of course, was just the brandishing of weapons between foes. She wanted to see who it was she would destroy. She wanted to savour the exquisite hunger before the kill. She was the cat taunting the mouse, trying her claws.

  But I do not think she was entirely certain of me then. The meeting was necessary, because she was not a fool and she would not presume to begin her battle without first assessing the strength of her adversary.

  Strange to say, but I believe Morgian's offer of friendship was genuine – that is, as genuine as anything about her could be. She meant it, although she could not have had the slightest idea of true friendship because she was not capable of it. But she was so hollow, so empty of all natural feeling that she could adopt any posture as it occurred to her; she used emotion as one might use a cloak, changing when it suited her. Still, she believed what she felt – amity, sincerity, even love of a perverse "sort – until she abandoned it in favour of another, more practical weapon.

  Thus, Morgian could make the incredible offer of friendship to me, and make it seem genuine, because she herself believed it – if only for as long as it took her to say it. In that sense, it was not a trap. She no doubt thought it might be advantageous to her in some way to have me as an ally and so spoke sincerely. This was part of her treachery: she could change as quickly as the wind, and put the full force of her being behind the moment's intent.

  For Morgian there was no higher ideal, no greater call to be heard above the deafening shriek of her own all-consuming will. There was no core of human pity or compassion to appeal to.

  There was only Morgian, rarest beauty, frozen and fatal, mistress of the sweet poison, the warm kiss of death.

  Though she ultimately meant me harm – make no mistake about that, I did not – Morgian had not come to join battle with me that day. Only, as I have said, to try her weapons and see what mine might be. I have no clear idea of what she discovered about me in that regard, although she revealed much about herself.

  But she was vain! Such vanity is rare in a human soul. But then, Morgian is no ordinary human, and possesses no ordinary soul.

  EIGHT

  Ganieda! What do you here, my soul?

  Ohhhh, your flesh is so white…

  Go back, go back! I cannot bear it… Please, go back.

  Drink a little water, Hawk. You thirst; you rave. Your chalybeate spring will revive you.

  Gods of stream and air, gods of hills and high places, gods of wells and water springs, gods of the crossroads, forge, and hearth… All gods bear witness! Observe this mortal before you. What is his failing that he should suffer so? What was his sin that his torment should be unending?

  Is it that he strived too hard, reached too far, attempted too much? Tell me! I defy you!

  The gods are silent. They are mute idols with mouths of stone; there is no life in them.

  Look out upon Hart Fell… is it day or night? Sun and stars in the sky together… it is so bright!

  What does this mean, Wolf? Look you, and speak forth-rightly. Tell me now, what do you observe?

  Red Mars rising in a coal-black sky, yes. What does this signify? Does its fresh ruby colour mean that one king is dead, and there shall be another? Of course, but there are always kings and kings. Why should their decline or ascent be noticed by the heavens? Very great kings these, then. Oh, aye, very great!

  And you, fair Venus, accompanying Sol on his fiery course, what about this double ray of yours, cleaving the air like a war axe? Division, surely. The realm cloven as with the stroke of Saecsen steel.

  A king dead, a new king reigning: division. Ruin shall proceed from this, surely. Who among us is mighty enough to prevent this destruction? Who is wise enough to advise us?

  O, Taliesin, speak to your son! My father, I would hear your voice.

  What is this? The music of a harp? But no harper do I see, nor bard is there to play. Yet, I hear it – the wonderful music of the harp.

  Look Wolf, he comes! Taliesin comes!

&
nbsp; See him climbing the mountain path; his blue cloak is flung over his shoulder; his staff is strong rowan; his tunic is white satin, his trousers tanned leather. He shines! I cannot look upon his face. He gleams with the glory of the Otherworld. His countenance is bright to rival the light of heaven.

  Father! Speak to your wretched offspring. Give me wise counsel.

  Behold, Myrddin, I answer your summons. I will speak to you, my son, and I will give you benefit of my wisdom. Hear then, if you will, and gain all that I have learned since my journey in this worlds-realm began:

  Praise the Great Creator, the Lord of Infinite Compassion! Honour him and perform heartfelt worship, all creatures! My own eyes have beheld him; we have walked together in Paradise. And often we have observed you, Myrddin, my son; we have heard your cries and discussed your sore predicament between us, the Lord and I.

  Fear not what will happen to you, Hawk. The King of Heaven has covered you with his hand. Even now his angels surround you; they stand ready to do your bidding. Listen to the one who knows the things of which he speaks: your life was given to you for a purpose, dearest flesh of my flesh. How should that purpose not obtain?

  So, take heart and put away your sorrow. After a little time, there will come a hermit to this shrine of yours. Do not send him away, my son. Rather welcome him; do as he bids, and he will give you a great blessing.

  When you have received this blessing, go out into the world again. Go you back to your lands and your people, take up your staff once more. There is much work to be done, brave Myrddin. I tell you the truth, while you have lain here sunk beneath your heavy grief, Darkness has not been idle.

  Therefore, it is time to rise up, strap steel to your hip and helm your head with iron. It is time, Myrddin, now, before the pathways to the Kingdom are overgrown and lost. Once lost, Bright Star, they will no longer be found; even with much searching they will not be found.

  Remember well the Kingdom of Summer and let its light become your prow star… let its song be a victory song on your lips… let its glory cover you, my beautiful son…

  No! Do not go, my father! Do not leave me alone and forlorn! Please, stay but a little… Taliesin!

  He is gone, Wolf. But did you see how his face shone when he spoke to me? It was not the vision of a fevered brain. Never that. Taliesin came to me; my father spoke to me. He spoke to me and I heard the sound of his voice.

  Yes, and I heard his stern warning.

  NINE

  If I am crazed, if I am mad, if I am mad… mad I am and there is no help for Myrddin.

  But wretched as I am before all the world, I was not always the scrag of hair and bone you see shivering on filthy haunches with flies biting his nether parts. Was Myrddin ever king in Dyfed, Wolf?

  Aye, that he was… he was… He was, and nevermore will be. Wild Man of the Wood I am. Yet, while I live, the creatures of the forest hearken to me, for I am their lord.

  Let the Forest Lord speak forth his prophecy!

  No scribes attend me, no servants have I to give account of what I shall say. Pelleas, where are you, boy? Have you, even you, deserted me, Pelleas?

  Intelligent words are uttered to the winds. Wise words from the Soul of Wisdom go unheeded. Let it go, let it go. The bard's awen will not be chained; it moves as it will and no mortal hand may make bold to bid or restrain. Let it go, fool!

  Stir up the flames, read the glowing embers and tell us something of happiness. Great Light, in this bleak place, you know we need some kindly cheer. What is it that shines up at me from the bed of ashes?

  Behold! Ganieda dressed in fine linen, clothed with the purity of new-fallen snow. Bearer of my soul, keeper of my heart, she walks on a carpet of rose petals, a peerless maid, chaste before her lord. Her smile is as the golden sunshower; her laughter like a silver rain.

  Pray to the God who made us, Dafyd! Praise him most eloquently for the gift he has given this day. Amen, so be it!

  My marriage day was all a day of wedding should be. I have heard my grandmother speak of her marriage to Elphin, and the celebration that it was. For unlike Taliesin and Charis, who had no celebration – and likely needed none – Elphin and Rhonwyn had been wed in fine old Celtic style and they wanted to see me wed in like manner.

  Consequently, the Cymry of Caer Cam bestowed on that gladsome day all the fire and verve of their happiness. Not that Maelwys was to be outdone – he would have hosted the celebration, but Ganieda was Custennin's daughter and Custennin's the feast, as was his right. Maelwys had to content himself with housing the celebrants.

  In truth, I remember little of the day. All is shadow next to the daylight of Ganieda, bright and shining star. She was never more beautiful, more graceful and serene. She was love embodied for me, I swear it; and I hope I was for her.

  On that fine day, we two stood before Dafyd in the chapel and we gave each other the gift of rings after the Christian custom, and spoke out the eternal promises that would bind our souls, as our hearts had already been bound by love – and as our bodies would be joined later that night.

  Ganieda's black hair was brushed and shining, it hung in long braids entwined with silver thread; she wore a circlet of spring flowers, pink as a maid's blush – they filled the wooden chapel with their fragrance. Her mantle was white, and white embroidered; on each tassel hung a tiny gold bell. Over one shoulder was draped the marriage cloak she had woven that winter: a fine expanse of imperial purple and bright sky blue in the cunning checked pattern of the north country; it was held by a great, gold brooch. There were golden bracelets on her wrists and bands of gold on her arms. She wore sandals of white leather on her feet.

  The most beautiful of the Fair Folk, she was a vision.

  I scarcely recall what I wore – no one took notice of me beside her; I know I took no notice of myself. In my hands I carried the slim golden tore that was my wedding gift to her. She would, after all, be a queen and should have a tore like the great queens of old.

  Dafyd, his dark robes brushed clean, his face glowing like the bride's beside me, held up the holy text for all to see, and he pronounced the marriage rite. When he finished, we laid our joined hands on the pages of the sacred book and repeated vows to one another as Dafyd instructed, whereupon he made a prayer for us.

  In his great benevolence, Dafyd allowed Blaise to come forward and sing the joining of our souls after the manner of the bards, which he did with simple and elegant dignity. The harp was deeply appreciated by all gathered in the chapel – there is something about a harp, and a true bard's voice lifted in song, that bestows great blessing on all who hear it.

  And I think it was something Taliesin would have done himself, if he had lived to see his son's wedding day.

  As the last notes of the harp faded, we left the chapel, emerging to find that the whole of Maridunum had come to see us wed, thronging the chapel yard. As soon as they saw us, they gave forth a mighty shout – led by the warriors of my war band, who acted as if they were the ones taking a queen. They were so pleased.

  But then, Ganieda could have conquered any army with charm alone; the young men of my warband were firmly under her spell, and they loved her.

  We rode back to the villa surrounded by a noisy sea of well-wishers. Between the shouted blessings of the townsmen and the singing of the warband, the far hills rang and rejoiced with the happy sound.

  Custennin had brought his cooks and stewards with him, and all the supplies they would need for the feast – including six head of fine, fat cattle on the hoof, a dozen casks of heavy mead, and some of his good heather beer. The rest – pigs, lambs, fish, mountains of turnips and tender spring vegetables – he bought in the market at Maridunum. Maelwys kept trying to get him to accept the use of his own stores but, other than a few spices the cooks had forgotten to bring, Custennin would not hear of it.

  Ah, we feasted well. It brings the water to my mouth to recall it. Although, at the time, my only appetite was for Ganieda. It may well have been the longest day of my
life: would the sun never go down? Would the twilight never come, when I would bear Ganieda away to the sleeping-place that had been prepared for us to share our first night together? I kept looking at the sky and finding it still light.

  So, we sang, and the jars and cups went round, and the meat was served up and the loaves of hot bread, and the steaming vegetables, and the sweetmeats. We sang some more – Blaise and his druids provided endless music on their harps – and I do not think even Taliesin could have filled that hall with a better sound.

  Oh, but Taliesin was there; he was there, Wolf, he was there. You only had to look at my mother's face to know it: Taliesin's spirit infused the day; his presence was a sweet fragrance everywhere. Charis had rarely appeared more fair, more radiant. Likely, she was living her own wedding day in mine.

  'Mother, are you enjoying yourself?' I asked; a needless question, for a blind man could have seen it.

  'Oh, Merlin, my Hawk, you have made me very happy.' She drew me to her and kissed me. 'Ganieda is a wonderful young woman.'

  Then you approve?'

  'How sweet of you to pretend that it mattered. But since you ask – yes, I approve. She is what every mother would have for a daughter, and as a wife for her son. No woman could ask for more.' Charis put a hand to my cheek. 'You have my blessing, Merlin – a thousand times if once.'

  It was important for Charis to say this to me, since her own father's refusal to bless her marriage is what had driven her and Taliesin away. Even though Avallach had become reconciled in the end, it had caused them both considerable pain.

  Subtle are the workings of God's ways: if Elphin and his people had not been driven from Caer Dyvi, if the Cymry had not come to Ynys Avallach, if Charis and Taliesin had not been driven from the Isle of Apples, and if they had not come to Maridunum, and if… and if… well, then I would never have been born, and I would not have been taken by the Hill Folk, and I would never have met Ganieda, and I would not be a king of Dyfed now, and this would not be my marriage day…