No one expected what happened next. For no sooner had Charis uttered the name, the woman's head snapped back and a scream of utter torment tore from her throat. Her body became rigid, the cords of her neck and arms standing out against the skin. She fell back on the pallet, writhing.
Charis jumped to her feet and I dashed forward. She extended a hand to keep me away, saying, 'No, do not come nearer. There is an evil spirit in her.'
The body thrashing on the pallet began to laugh – a sickening, hateful sound. 'You cannot help this bitch whore!'
The woman screamed in a rough, raucous voice. 'She is mine! I will kill her if you touch her!'
The brothers hurried to Charis' side and conferred quickly. One of them dashed from the room and returned a few moments later with a wooden cross and a vial of anointing oil. Meanwhile, the poor woman thrashed and flung her limbs around so wildly that I feared she would break them off – screaming continually with that dreadful, demented laughter.
The monk approached with the cross and oil, but Charis went to him saying, 'I will do it, but I will need help. Go and tell the brothers at the Shrine to uphold us in prayer.'
The man raced away again, and Charis nodded to several of the other brothers, who stood near. 'Hold her so that she does no hurt to herself,' she said. The monks knelt beside the pallet and gently but firmly laid hold of the woman's nailing limbs. Charis, holding the cross and vial, knelt down by the pallet.
'In the name of Jesu the Christ, who is the living Son of God, I abjure you unclean spirit, and demand that you come out of this woman.'
The woman, poor wretch, was instantly beset with violent tremors, convulsions that seized every part of her body, flinging her back against the straw bed again and again, despite the brothers' best efforts. At the same time, the hideous laughter came forth, bubbling up from her throat as from a very great distance.
'JES-S-S-S-U-U-U!' she hissed with wicked glee, and uttered an unspeakable oath against that sacred name.
The monks fell back in horror. But Charis did not so much as cringe. She held out the cross in her hand. 'Silence!' she commanded. 'You will not blaspheme the holy name!'
The spirit twisted the woman's face in a ghastly grin. 'Oh, oh, please, be not angry with me,' the thing whined. 'Please, fine lady, be not angry with me.'
'In the name of Jesu, I command you to silence!' Charis insisted.
The woman convulsed, her stomach swelled and foul gas broke from her bowels. She spat, and her spittle ran yellow with puss. She laughed and spread her discoloured legs, breaking her foul wind.
Abbot Elfodd appeared, crossed himself and entered the room. 'Brother Birinus told me to come straight away,' he whispered, coming to stand beside Charis. 'What is to be done?'
'I have commanded it to silence,' Charis replied. 'But it is a stubborn thing. Exorcizing it will be difficult.'
'I will do it, sister,' Elfodd offered.
'No,' Charis smiled and gripped his hand, 'I have begun; I will finish. She is in my care.'
'Very well. But I will stand with you.' He nodded to the monks, who took up places across the room; they knelt and began singing a prayer.
The woman lay still, panting like a winded dog. At the sight of the abbot her eyes grew round, she shrieked and spat more of the vile poison. Her hands became claws and she reached for him to scratch him – all the while mouthing silent obscenities.
Charis knelt down, holding the cross before her. I marvelled at her composure: she was so calm, so self-assured. 'Uisna,' she said softly. 'I am going to help you now.' She smiled gently, a smile of such hope and beauty, I believe the smile alone could have healed any malady. 'Rejoice! It is God's good pleasure to heal you today, daughter.'
Poor Uisna's eyes rolled up into her head and she spewed forth more puss and bile, and began choking on it.
The abbot bent over her and lifted her head. Her arm whipped up and struck Elfodd on the side of the face with such a blow that he was flung back against the wall. The monks prayed louder.
'I am unharmed,' said Elfodd; rubbing his jaw, he returned to his place. 'Continue.'
'In the name of the Most High God, Lord and Creator of all that is, seen and unseen, and in the name of his Holy Son, Jesu, Beloved Friend and Saviour of men, I renounce you, Evil One. I command you to come out of this woman and trouble her no more.' Charis held the cross before the woman's face; Uisna shrank from it, expressions of terror and triumph rippling over her features.
'In the name of the Christ, be gone!' Charis shouted.
At once, the woman gave out a tortured scream. It seemed as if the sunlight dimmed and the room became cold, and that a rushing wind filled the room. This unseen wind whirled once, twice, again; then, lifting the thatch of the roof, raced out into the clear blue sky above.
Uisna lay as one dead: limp, grey-faced, no breath left in her body. But Charis placed the wooden cross on her breast and, taking the woman's discoloured hands in her own, began rubbing them gently. Abbot Elfodd lifted the vial of oil, offered a blessing, and, dipping his finger, anointed Uisna's head.
Both Charis and Elfodd prayed over the woman then, asking Jesu to forgive her sins, and heal her body and soul, and receive her into the Holy Kingdom. It was simply done and, when they finished, Elfodd said, 'Awake, dear sister, you have been healed.'
Uisna's eyes fluttered open. She looked up at the two bending over her, puzzled. 'Am I..? What has happened?'
'You have been saved,' Abbot Elfodd replied. 'And you have been healed.'
Uisna sat up slowly. She raised her hands, and her mouth fell open in awe. The grotesque bruises had vanished, and her flesh was smooth and white. She lifted the hem of her mantle: her feet and legs were no longer discoloured; the flesh was firm and healthy, the once-broken leg straight.
'Oh!… Oh!… ' Uisna cried, throwing her arms around Charis. Tears streamed down her face.
The monks exclaimed in praises to God. Abbot Elfodd embraced the woman and, as if it could no longer remain silent, the bell at the Shrine began ringing out wildly. Moments later monks began crowding into the room to share in the joy of the miracle.
'You must continue in faith, sister,' warned Elfodd gently. 'Renounce sin, Uisna, take Jesu for your Saviour, and trust only in him. Be filled with God and his Holy Spirit so that the evil spirit cannot return again – or it surely will return sevenfold.'
And I – suddenly, I felt as if the room was closing in around me, suffocating me. I could not stand to be there any longer. With the sound of thanksgiving and praise songs ringing in my ears, I fled the place, my breath coming in raking gasps.
Charis found me later, where I sat among the reeds below the Tor with my feet in the water. The sun was lowering in the afternoon sky and she came to me and quietly sat down beside me on the bank, laying a hand on my shoulder.
'I saw you run from the sickroom,' she said softly.
I shook my head sorrowfully. 'I am sorry, Mother, but I could not stay any longer – I had to get away from there.'
'What is wrong, my Hawk?'
I turned to peer at her through a mist of tears. 'I have been afraid,' I sobbed, tears running freely now. 'I have been afraid… and oh, oh Mother, I have failed… I have failed… '
Tenderly, Charis gathered me into her arms. She held me for a long time, rocking slowly, gently. 'Tell me, my son, how have you failed?' she said at last.
'There was so much,' I answered finally, 'so much I meant to do. And I have done nothing. I have betrayed the trust of my birthright. I have strayed; I have wandered far, Mother; and I have wasted myself in empty pursuits – because I was afraid.'
'What did you fear?'
I could scarcely bring myself to say the word. But, squeezing my eyes shut, I forced it out: 'Morgian.'
Charis said nothing for a long time. She was quiet so long, I turned to look at her and saw that her eyes were closed, shedding silent tears beneath her lashes.
'Mother?'
She smiled bravely. 'I had t
hought myself free of her. Now I know I never will be. But her power belongs only to this world.'
'I know that – at least I was reminded of it today… that poor woman – '
'Uisna is healed, Merlin. God has made her whole.'
'Are there many like her?'
'Yes,' Charis sighed, gazing across the lake to the Tor, 'and more all the time. She is the third since winter. Abbot Elfodd tells me that it is the same in other places. He has spoken to the bishop about it – there is talk of a plague.' I winced. 'A plague of evil spirits?'
'Bishop Teilo says that it is to be expected. For when God's kingdom increases, Satan is roused to wrath. The Evil One seeks always to keep us from the knowledge of God, for then we are defenceless before him.' She smiled again. 'But, as you have seen today, we are far from defenceless.'
I remembered that day on the mountain-top in Celyddon, and I shuddered. A plague of evil spirits – a ghastly thought. Yet, it was true, our Lord was more powerful in his simple goodness than the Enemy in all his vast evil.
That is what I had seen this day at the Shrine, and I had been admonished – indeed, I had been rebuked – and sternly reminded that I feared for nothing. Morgian could be faced, and Morgian could be defeated. This truth, like so many, was bitter to me, for it brought me to my knees beneath the weight of all my failings.
Oh, yes. So many failures, so much wasted time and effort. The barbarian still threatened, the petty kings still strove with one another for power, the blessings of civilization were fading from memory… The Kingdom of Summer was no nearer to becoming reality.
Could this be blamed on Morgian?
Only in part.
It was Morgian, and the lord who ruled her. It was my own short-sightedness – or lack of faith, it amounts to the same thing sometimes. Time and again, I had been given opportunities and I had wasted them. Time and again, I had held back when I might have acted more swiftly, more forcefully. Why? Why had I done this?
The heart of a man remains a mystery for ever beyond his reckoning. What of that? I did not have to continue in my ignorance and disgrace. I could change. Knowing the difference, I could choose the higher way.
'What are you thinking, Merlin?' Charis asked after a while.
'I am thinking that this is my battle. I have run from it long enough.'
'What will you do?'
I shook my head. 'I cannot say. But I will be shown soon enough. And, while I wait, I will make myself ready. I will stay here at Ynys Avallach and I will strengthen myself with prayer and meditation on the Holy Christ.'
Charis hugged me again, and kissed my forehead. 'My Hawk, forgive yourself as you have been forgiven. Your failings are not unique to you alone.'
That was all she said; she left me soon after that. But I felt forgiven. I prayed: 'Great Light, thank you for waking me from my long, selfish sleep. Lead me, my King. I am ready to follow.'
The next day but one Avallach returned from Llyonesse. The news he brought was mixed. Belyn had improved, though would not recover, and did not expect to see Samhain. Nonetheless, he seemed content, and welcomed Avallach's visit. Consequently, the brothers had effected a reconciliation. And Avallach had gleaned what he could from Belyn regarding Morgian.
'There is little enough to tell,' Avallach informed me, 'but that little is disturbing. King Loth is dead, and Morgian has left the Orcades. Where she has gone is not known. Belyn expected her to return to Llyonesse in the spring, but there has been no sign or word from her.'
'Loth dead?' I mused. 'Then there are two thrones that will fall to her.'
Belyn's and Loth's, I was thinking: both would see one of Morgian's offspring made king. Two realms had fallen to the Queen of Air and Darkness – which was what the people of Ynysoedd Erch, the Islands of Fear, had taken to calling Morgian. Two kingdoms – one in the north, one in the south – under her power. But Morgian's influence extended much further than that – as I was soon to discover.
Three days later word came to Ynys Avallach that Uther was dead.
SEVENTEEN
Strange to tell, two years had passed me in the Fisher King's hall. So given to hate and despair was I, that I had noticed nothing of the wider world – the silent turnings of the seasons, the long, slow swing of the Earth through her measured course.
Now Uther was dead.
I pondered this. The Imperial line of Constantine was never ordained to flourish. Each of noble Constantine's sons had been king, and each in his turn had been, like his father, cut down before his time.
Poison, again, it was said: one of Gorlas' loyal stewards who blamed Uther for his master's death and sought to even the blood debt. Many believed this, although there was also vague talk of a mysterious malady; it seemed Uther had suffered a lingering illness through the winter. I gathered my things together and prepared to leave the Tor.
'Farewell, my Hawk!' called Chads as she waved me away. 'We will uphold you in your battle.'
She was right, of course. My battle, so long avoided, was finally beginning.
I sent Pelleas ahead to Londinium and made my way to Tintagel in all haste, hoping I was not too late. But it was not Uther I was concerned with now. I wanted to see Ygerna, and to collect Uther's sword. For word had gone out: the kings of Britain were gathering in Londinium to choose a new High King from among their number. I must be there when this took place.
Ygerna received me gladly. She had borne her loss bravely, but was tired and wanted someone to share her grief. Indeed, Uther was not much mourned; he was not the High King to inspire the love and sympathy of the people. What he had accomplished for Britain – his fierce battles, his brilliant victories – these were already forgotten. The only thing people remembered was that Uther had killed Gorlas to marry Ygerna. That is all they remembered, and that little a lie.
I found the twice-widowed queen standing on the rampart of the wall, gazing out at the sea, her hair streaming in the sea breeze. In the falling light she appeared at once frail and wonderfully strong – fragile as sorrow, potent as love. She turned lightly when I approached, smiled, and held out her hands to me. 'Myrddin, you have come. Welcome, dear friend.'
'I came as soon as I received word, my queen.' I said, taking her hands. Her fingers were cold, although the late afternoon sun was warm on the wall. Then, hesitantly, she stepped nearer and embraced me chastely, brushing my cheek with cool lips. I held her for a long moment, very much aware that she was a young woman who needed the comfort of a reassuring touch.
'Will you sit with me a while?' she asked, stepping back, a queen once more.
'If you wish.' We walked along the wall to a block of grey stone which jutted out from the rampart. She settled herself on it and indicated that I should sit beside her.
'It happened so quickly,' she said abruptly, her voice sad and low. 'He had been out hunting and returned feeling unwell – it had been a bad spring for him so I did not remark upon it. He went to bed and awoke in the night with a fever. He remained in bed the next day which was most unlike him. I saw him twice, but he complained of nothing. I expected him at supper, but when he did not come I went to his room.'
She squeezed my hand tightly. 'Oh, Myrddin, he was sitting in his chair… his flesh was cold, and he was dead… '
'I am sorry, Ygerna.'
She seemed not to hear. 'The odd thing was – he had his shield beside him, and his standard; he wore his leather breastplate. His sword lay across his lap. It was as if he expected to fight an enemy.' The queen lowered her head and sighed. 'I did not speak to him again. I did not tell him I loved him – I wanted so much to tell him, and then it was too late. Myrddin, why does everything always come too late?'
The wash of the sea around the roots of the headland and the cry of the soaring gulls carried an inexpressible sadness to me. I put my arm round Ygerna and we sat together in the sun, listening to the gulls and the waves, feeling the comfort of two hearts grieving.
The sun went behind a cloud and the day turned sudd
enly cool. 'Where has he been buried?' I asked as we rose and made our way back inside.
She did not answer at once. When she spoke there was triumph in her voice. 'Beside Aurelius.'
Jesu bless her, she had done what she could for Uther's memory. It was right that they should be buried together in any case, but Ygerna wanted their names for ever linked in renown and respect. She had buried the husband she loved next to the one the people loved.
As we came near the hall, she turned to me, and, laying a hand on my arm, said, 'I carry Uther's child.'
'Does anyone know?"
'My serving maid. She is sworn to silence.'
'See that she keeps it.'
Ygerna nodded. She understood. 'Will there be fighting?'
'Possibly. Yes, it is likely.'
'I see,' she said absently; there was something else on her mind I could tell. She was weighing her words carefully. I waited for her to come out with it in her own time.
The sea crashed below us, restless as Ygerna's heart. I could sense her unease. Still, I waited.
'Myrddin,' she said at last, her voice tight. 'Now that Uther is dead… ' Words failed her; she could not make them say what she felt. 'Now that the king is gone, perhaps it would not be… '
'Yes?'
She pressed my hand and gazed earnestly at me – as if I held power to grant or withhold her heart's desire. 'The child – my son. Please, Myrddin, where is he? Is he safe? May I send for him?'
'It cannot be, Ygerna.'
'But surely now – now that Uther… '
I shook my head gently. 'The danger has not diminished; in fact, with Uther's death it has increased. Until you have delivered Uther's child, Aurelius' son remains the only heir.'
Ygerna dropped her head. The babe had been much on her mind and in her heart, as it would with any mother. 'May I go to him?'
'That would not be wise, I fear,' I told her. 'I am sorry. I wish it could be otherwise.'
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