Merlin's Mistake

by Robert Newman

  “A little mechanical,” said the dark lady, “but quite logical. And the others?”

  “Haven’t the faintest idea,” said Primus. “Who are they, Tertius?”

  “Friends of mine,” said Tertius. “This is Maude and this is Brian of Caercorbin.”

  “And why have you come here?” asked the dark lady.

  “May I ask who you are first, madam?” asked Tertius politely.

  “I don’t see why not. I am the Lady Viviane, sometimes known as Nimue.”

  “Oh,” said Tertius, looking at her with great interest. “Of course. I should have known. As to why we have come …” He glanced at Brian.

  “We are looking for the Knight with the Red Shield, my lady,” said Brian.

  “I see,” said Nimue. “Do we have a knight with a red shield here?” she asked Primus.

  “You mean down in the dungeons?”

  “Anywhere.”

  “Not that I know of. Do you know of any knight with a red shield? Secundus?”

  “I never really look at their shields, but I don’t think so.”

  “Nevertheless I have reason to believe that he is here, my lady,” said Brian. “He is, in fact, your cousin.”

  “My cousin?” She stared at him. “What in heaven’s name do you want with him?”

  “It’s a long story. Then you admit that he is here?”

  “How dare you question me here in my own castle?”

  “Is it yours?”

  “Ah,” she said. “That does it. Primus!”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, don’t just sit there like a lump of lard! Take care of him!”

  “You mean take him prisoner?”

  “Of course.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be so easy,” he said, studying Brian. “I have a feeling he’ll fight.”

  “Are you afraid of him?”

  “Why, no. Not really. Naturally I’m prepared to do a certain amount of fighting. But I don’t like the looks of that sword of his. I have a feeling that it may be magical.”

  “It is,” said Tertius.

  “There you are,” said Primus. “After all, I took care of the last one. Why doesn’t Secundus take care of him?”

  “May I ask,” said Nimue quietly, “just why the two of you are here, if you are not even willing to render me so small a service?”

  “You know why,” said Primus. “Bedegraine is a nice enough place, but this is even nicer; a larger fief and much richer. One of these days you’ll get tired of being a maiden lady—you’re not getting any younger, you know—and then you’ll marry me or possibly Secundus.”

  “I’d rather marry a serf,” she said intensely, “or a Saracen! Is it help you want?”

  She gestured and suddenly the great hall was flooded with light as men-at-arms bearing torches poured in from the doorways and from behind the arrases.

  “That’s all very well, Nimue,” said Primus sulkily, “but if it is a magic sword, someone’s still going to get hurt.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “Why don’t you take care of him yourself?”

  She looked at him, at Secundus, then at Maude.

  “This is what happens when you’re a woman,” she said, “especially one with responsibilities. You’re alone, weak, and helpless, so you search out men—brave, wise, masterly men—who will share your burdens, help you to satisfy your simple needs. Men who will comfort and sustain you, advise you, teach and protect you. And what happens?” Her voice rose. “You end up surrounded by incompetents, fools and cowards! Knights who won’t fight, an alchemist who dissolves gold instead of making it.…”

  “Now, Nimue,” began Primus.

  “Be quiet! You’d like me to take care of him? Very well. Look at me,” she said to Brian. “Into my eyes.”

  “No!” said Maude urgently. “Don’t!”

  Brian had been looking at Nimue, and now he tried to look away, but her dark eyes held his as a magnet holds steel.

  “Have you ever heard the tale of Caradoc,” she said conversationally, “who was known as Brise Bras, He of the Wasted Arm? It’s a fascinating story. He angered an enchanter whose familiar was a serpent—a serpent like this one.”

  As she spoke, she slipped a gold bracelet off her arm: a bracelet cunningly wrought in the shape of a coiling serpent.

  “The enchanter sent the serpent, which was of course invisible, to Caradoc as I send this one to you.” She tossed the bracelet across the table so that it fell at Brian’s feet. “Seeing its prey, the serpent leaped up, coiled around Caradoc’s arm, as mine is coiling round yours, and gripped it so tightly that Caradoc’s arm became paralyzed, powerless, dead.”

  “Don’t look at her! Don’t listen to her!” said Maude.

  But it was too late. His eyes on Nimue’s, unable to tear them away, Brian saw the gold serpent writhing toward him. Suddenly his right arm was seized, gripped by some constricting force. He tried to raise it, free it, but it was becoming numb, weak. The numbness spread downward until it reached his hand, then, as he stared incredulously, Starflame slipped from his nerveless fingers and clattered to the stone floor.

  “Yes,” said Nimue. “Like that. All right, Primus.”

  Rising, Primus came around the high table toward Brian. But when he bent down to pick up Starflame, Tertius spoke.

  “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”

  “Why not?” asked Primus.

  “Go ahead, then. You’ll see.”

  As Primus hesitated, glancing at Nimue, Tertius picked up the sword himself and slipped it back into the sheath that hung at Brian’s side. Without thinking, Brian gripped it with his left hand, holding it firmly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Nimue to Primus. “He can’t use it. Take him. Take all of them away.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Please,” said maude.

  Slowly Brian raised his eyes. She was still kneeling in front of him, holding out a piece of the bread the guard had brought in early that morning. He shook his head.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said.

  “I know. You said that. But you’ve got to eat.”

  “To keep up my strength?”

  “Yes.” Then, as he continued to sit there, huddled in the corner of the cell, “Stop looking at me that way!” she said sharply.” And stop feeling so sorry for yourself!”

  He blinked at her intensity.

  “Is that what I’ve been doing?”

  “You know it is! You’ve been sitting there like a lost gazehound ever since they brought us down here. And I’m getting sick of it! Have you lost your arm?”

  It was resting limply on his lap, and he glanced down at it.

  “No,” he explained patiently. “But you see, I can’t use it.…”

  For some reason this made her angrier than ever.

  “Don’t you think we know that? But we told you there must be something that can be done about that, some way of lifting the spell she put on you. And if there is, we’ll find it. But you’ve got to help us.”

  “By eating?”

  “To begin with, yes!”

  He sighed, wishing there was some way he could make her understand without having to talk about it. For talking, even thinking, took a great effort. He seemed to remember a time—could it only have been yesterday?—when what had happened had meant a great deal to him. What she didn’t seem to realize, and what he hadn’t the strength to tell her, was that now it wasn’t just his arm that was numb. It was as if the numbness had spread so that now not only did nothing mean anything to him, but he didn’t feel anything: not anger or affection, not sorrow or fear—nothing.

  He had been looking at her, into her eyes, and now he saw that instead of the impatience he had heard in her voice there was concern in them, deep concern. And somehow that touched him as no words could have done.

  “All right,” he said.

  Taking the bread from her, he bit into it. It was stale, hard. />
  “Not very good, is it?” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “Still, it’s food. Would you like some water?”

  He nodded, and she held up the jug that the guard had brought in with the bread. He drank and, with an effort, swallowed the bread.

  “Now let me look at your arm again.” Putting down the jug, she began kneading his shoulder muscle. “Do you feel that?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about this?” Still kneading, massaging, she slid her hand further down his arm. He shook his head.

  “You don’t feel anything here?”

  “No. It’s no use, Maude. It seems to me that you tried this before.”

  “And I’ll keep on trying. It can’t do any harm. And if I could get someone else to help me …” She glared at Tertius who was still at the door of the cell, looking out through the small grilled opening.

  He turned.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, if I could get someone else to help me with this—meaning you—”

  “Oh. Of course. But you know, that is a laboratory at the end of the corridor. The guard just came out, and I could see into it.”

  “What of it?”

  “I told you, I don’t mind helping you massage his arm. But I think a far better thing would be to get out of here.”

  “Out of this dungeon?”

  “Away from here altogether.”

  “And you think you can arrange that?” asked Maude ironically.

  “Yes. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out how to do it, but …” Turning back to the door, he called, “Guard! Ho there, Guard!”

  After he had shouted and rattled the door a few times, the guard appeared; a long-nosed, swarthy man with a scar on his cheek.

  “What do you want?” he growled.

  “I want to talk to the Lady Nimue.”

  “You want to …?”

  “Yes. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get her.”

  The guard stared at him, started to guffaw. Then, as Tertius returned his look calmly and coolly, he changed his mind. He stood there uncertainly for a moment. Then, muttering to himself, he went away.

  “She won’t come,” said Maude. “Why should she?”

  “Because she’s a woman.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She’ll be curious as to what I want to talk to her about.”

  A short while later there were footsteps in the corridor outside, and Nimue’s face appeared in the barred opening of the heavy door.

  “I understand you wanted to talk to me,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Tertius. “I apologize for disturbing you, but unfortunately I couldn’t come to you.”

  “At least he has a sense of humor,” she said to Primus and Secundus who stood behind her. “Which is more than I can say for some of his relatives.” Then to Tertius, “I assume it was about something important.”

  “Let’s say about something I think you’ll find interesting. But talking this way,” he gestured toward the grilled opening, “is rather awkward.”

  She studied him for a moment, then ordered, “Open the door.” When the guard had done so, she demanded, “Well?”

  “About a quarter of a mile from here,” said Tertius, pointing to the cell’s barred window, “is an island. There’s a cliff on this side of it. And on a ledge about halfway up the cliff is a gull’s nest. How many eggs are there in it?”

  “Is this a riddle?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Then I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”

  “Neither have I. But there are three eggs in it.”

  “How do you know?”

  Taking his telescope from his belt, he extended it to its full length and handed it to her. She looked at it curiously, then walking to the window of the cell, put it to her eye and looked through it. She started as the image came into focus, but when she lowered the telescope, her face was expressionless.

  “Yes, there are three eggs in it. What of it?”

  Taking the telescope from her, he reversed it. Then, pointing to the doorway of the cell where Primus and Secundus stood with the guard, “My dear brothers are very close to us, are they not? So close that you can almost reach out and touch them.” And when she nodded, “Look at them through this.”

  Putting the large end of the telescope to her eye, she looked toward the cell door. Again she started, and her hand went out as if to make sure that what she saw was as far away as it seemed. But again, when she lowered the telescope, her face was expressionless.

  “An interesting toy,” she said, handing it back to him. “I’m sure you had some purpose in showing it to me.”

  “Of course. It is, as you say, an interesting toy, and I showed it to you, not to impress you, but in the way of an analogy. I know something about your powers, knew about them before we ever came here. But I wondered if it had ever occurred to you that if it is possible to master distance—bring the far near and make the near seem far—it is possible to do the same thing with time. That it is possible, in fact, to reverse it.”

  “Reverse it?”

  “I thought you might be interested because of something Primus said yesterday, something rather ungallant.”

  “That I was not getting any younger?” She laughed, but her laugh was harsh. “Who is?”

  “I know of one person who is.” And he glanced at Maude.

  “She?” Nimue looked at her too. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to impress me. She’s old enough to be my mother.”

  “She is. But when Brian and I first met her she was old enough to be your grandmother—or your great-grandmother.”

  Again Nimue looked at Maude, then at Tertius.

  “You’re not at all like your brothers,” she said. “You’re a very clever young man, and I’m not sure I can trust you. But your friend here is something else again.” She turned to Brian who was still sitting in the corner of the cell. “Look at me!” she said. Then, when her eyes were holding his as they had the day before in the great hall, she asked, “Is what he says true?”

  Brian nodded.

  “She is getting younger?”

  He nodded again.

  “You would not lie,” she said thoughtfully. “In fact, you could not—not to me. And I have heard of such a thing. You, Tertius, you know how it’s done?”

  “I think so. And of course I’ll have her to help me. But since the process involved is alchemical and rather complicated, we’ll need a laboratory to work in.”

  “I can provide that. And an old dotard who calls himself an alchemist along with it. But you haven’t told me what you want in exchange for this miraculous elixir or potion or whatever it may be.”

  “First of all, our freedom. And in addition … shall we say as much gold as we can carry away with us?”

  She considered this. “That sounds fair enough. After all, what have I to lose?” Then, to Primus and Secundus, she added, “take the two of them into the laboratory.”

  “The three of us,” said Maude.

  “All right. The three of them. And tell Alwyn that he, as well as the laboratory, is to be at their disposal. How long will it take?”

  “It’s hard to say,” said Tertius. “It depends on many things. But we should have something for you, at least a progress report, in a day or so.”

  “Very well.”

  She stepped back and stood watching as Primus, Secundus, and the guard led them along the passageway.

  “So you’ve become a magician,” said Primus to Tertius as they stopped in front of a heavy oaken door.

  “It’s something I’ve always wanted to be,” said Tertius. “Does that surprise you?”

  “Nothing you could say or do would surprise me,” said Primus.

  “I wonder,” said Tertius.

  “I’m not sure I like this,” grumbled Secundus. “I mean, if he has learned any magic …”

  “If he knew
as much as Nimue, would they be here now?” asked Primus.

  “No. I suppose not.”

  The guard had been fumbling with his keys. Finally finding the one he wanted, he unlocked the door and they went in, followed by Primus and Secundus.

  They found themselves in a large, square, stone-walled room with barred windows on three sides of it. A furnace glowed in one corner, and on the coals, in a bain-marie, was a huge alembic with a greenish liquid bubbling in it. There were jars, bottles, and flasks on the shelves and on the long wooden table in the center of the room. Scattered here and there, on the table and on the floor, were retorts, hourglasses, mortars and pestles, crucibles and astrolabes.

  The room was silent except for a strange whistling sound, and at first it seemed empty.

  “Alwyn!” called Primus.

  The whistling sound turned into a snort, and a man’s face appeared above the table edge. It was round, pink-cheeked and not merely bald, but completely hairless, without either eyebrows or eyelashes.

  “What?” he said, blinking large, blue, innocent eyes at them. “Oh, it’s you, Primus. I was so deep in thought I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Thought?” said Primus. “You were asleep!”

  “Was I? Perhaps I was. I was up all night, working on a new formula. Tell Nimue that I am close, very close. After the filtration, calcination, probation and rubification …”

  “Never mind that,” said Primus. “She said you’re to stop whatever you’re doing and help him,” he jerked his head toward Tertius, “with what he’s going to do.”

  “Oh?” said Alwyn. “Of course. Delighted. But just the same, I think she should know …”

  “We’ll tell her,” said Secundus. “Come on, Primus. The air in here’s foul, and besides, I’m hungry.”

  “When aren’t you?” asked Primus. “As for you,” he said to Tertius, “you’d better have what you promised her very soon. She’s had it up to here with people who talk big and don’t deliver.” And with a baleful glance at Alwyn, he and Secundus left the laboratory.

  “I can’t imagine what he’s talking about,” said Alwyn as the guard closed and locked the door. “Can you?”

  “No,” said Tertius.

  “If she’s complaining about me … Forgive me, I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”