Merlin's Mistake

by Robert Newman

  “That’s my business,” said Maude harshly. “Go on.”

  “No!” said Brian. “I said I’d never permit it, and I certainly wouldn’t let you, of all people …”

  “Be quiet!” said Merlin.

  “I won’t!” said Brian. “I tell you I won’t have it!”

  “Silence him,” said Merlin, apparently to the empty air. “And hold him.”

  Before Brian could move, what seemed to be an invisible hand was clapped to his mouth, making it impossible for him to speak, while other hands gripped and held him.

  “All right, Tertius,” said Merlin.

  “I think I should explain,” said Tertius to Maude, “that I cannot be certain what the serpent will do when it leaves Brian’s arm. It might coil about your neck instead of your arm.…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Maude, and though she was now as pale as Nimue had been, her voice was steady. “Go ahead.”

  “Very well,” said Tertius. “Stand here.” And he placed her to Brian’s right, two or three feet away from him. Taking his spectacles from his pouch, he put them on and peered at Brian’s arm. Then, as Brian strained at the unseen hands that were holding him, Tertius hissed softly and said, “Serpens invisus, serpens saevus, audite! Listen, listen well and obey. By Azoc, Zoar, Amioram, Methon and Tafrac, iubeo ire! Go!”

  “Well?” asked Merlin.

  “It’s starting to move, loosen its coils,” said Tertius, still peering through his spectacles, watching intently. And as he spoke, Brian felt a tingling, a prickling in the arm that had been numb for so long. Suddenly Tertius moved, and moved with surprising speed. Reaching out, he whipped Starflame from the sheath at Brian’s side and slashed down savagely between him and Maude. There was a faint tinkling sound as of glass breaking.

  “Did you get him?” asked Merlin.

  “See for yourself,” said Tertius, pointing with the sword.

  Looking down, Brian saw a small pool of silvery droplets on the floor near his feet.

  “It must have been a Cornish, not a Welsh serpent,” said Merlin. “They’re the only ones that have mercury for blood. Well done, Tertius. You have talent, definite talent.”

  “Thank you,” said Tertius. Reversing Starflame, he held it out. “Here, Brian.”

  Without thinking, Brian took the sword from him. And it was only after he had done so that he realized he had taken it with his right hand.

  “I can use it!” he said. “I can use my arm again!”

  “Of course,” said Tertius.

  “And you’re all right?” Brian asked Maude.

  Taking a deep breath, Maude nodded.

  “It never touched her,” explained Tertius. “I killed it as Cador did the serpent that was coiled round Caradoc’s arm in midair, when it was leaving you for her.”

  Sheathing Starflame, Brian clasped Tertius’s hand, then turned to Maude.

  “What can I say to you?” he asked quietly. “How am I to thank you for what you did?”

  “There’s nothing to thank me for,” she said. “For I did nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No. But if you must say something, you can say to me what I said to you when you saved me from the boar. You can tell me I’m a fool.” Then, as he continued looking at her, she said, “Can’t we get on with what brought us here? Have you forgotten who is down there in the dungeons?”

  “No,” said Brian. “I haven’t forgotten. I hate to trouble you,” he said to Merlin, “but when we were coming up here you said we might free the prisoners.”

  “That’s right,” said Merlin. “The prisoners. Was there any special one you were interested in?”

  “Yes. Her cousin, the Knight with the Red Shield.”

  “Her cousin? I didn’t know she had one.” He turned to Nimue. “Release him. Release all of them, give them their arms and have them brought up here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Will you please stop that?” said Maude, pulling her hood forward.

  “Stop what?”

  “Staring at me like that.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Brian. He glanced at Nimue who was sitting quietly but sulkily at the high table, and then at Merlin and Tertius who were standing nearby, deep in conversation. “What do you suppose they’re talking about?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Magic. Tertius was looking for a teacher and he’s found one, the greatest one of all.”

  “Yes, his quest seems to be over. And so does yours.”

  With a curious pang, Brian realized that this was true.

  “I suppose it is.”

  “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

  “But I am. What’s the point of a quest if you don’t find what you’re looking for? It’s just … what about yours?”

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t even know what it is. You’ve never told us.”

  “And never will.”

  “All right. But why can’t I help you with it?”

  “Are you that anxious to continue questing? I would have thought you’d want to return to Meliot.”

  “Well, yes. I suppose I’ll have to do that, go there with the Knight with the Red Shield. Tertius said our three quests were intertwined and so far he’s been right. Perhaps he’ll come with us.”

  “I think he will. At least as far as Meliot.”

  “You mean you’re going back there too?”

  “Why not? That’s where our quests began—yours and mine—and that’s where they’ll end: yours with your princess, the beautiful Alys.”

  “Don’t, Maude. Please,” he said awkwardly.

  “Why? Isn’t that why you undertook your quest?”

  “Yes, it is. But …”

  There was a tramp of boots, a shuffling of feet behind them, and they turned to watch as the prisoners, with an escort of men-at-arms, came into the great hall. There were about a dozen of them. A few of them were thin, emaciated, their clothes ragged, but all of them bore their arms and walked proudly. Their leader was a tall knight who looked strangely familiar, and as he drew near and Brian saw his straw-colored hair and long mustachios …

  “Sir Uriel!” he said.

  “What?” The tall knight peered at him. “Well, hello. I remember you. We met at Meliot. You’re the squire who fought the Black Knight. What are you doing here?” He jerked his head at Nimue. “She take you prisoner, too?”

  “Yes,” said Brian. “For a while.”

  “Nasty business. She always was a sly minx. Took up with Merlin some years ago.” He paused, his eyes on the elderly enchanter. “Excuse me, but aren’t you …?”

  “Yes,” said Merlin.

  “I thought so. Saw you once at Camelot when I was a page. May I ask whose side you’re on here?”

  “Not hers,” said Merlin.

  “Oh. That’s good. Then we should be able to handle her. And it’s time someone did. Because, do you know what she’s been up to, this dear cousin of mine?”

  “Cousin?” said Brian. “Is Nimue your cousin?”

  “Yes, of course. That’s why I came here.”

  “But then—you must be the Knight with the Red Shield!”

  “What?” Sir Uriel swung his shield forward and looked down at it. “Not that I know of. How can I be?”

  Brian, Maude and Tertius looked at the shield also. It was somewhat battered, but it wasn’t red. It was green as midsummer grass.

  “I don’t understand,” said Brian. “Giles the Giant said it was red.”

  “Did you meet him?” asked Tertius.

  “The giant?” said Sir Uriel. “Yes, of course. Fine fellow. Gave me some ale in the biggest drinking horn I’ve ever seen.”

  “The dragon’s horn,” said Brian. “And he claimed that the only other person who’d drunk from it recently was a knight with a red shield.”

  “Achromatopsia,” said Tertius. “Also called daltonism. I should have guessed.” Then, as they all stared at him, “Giles
is color-blind, can’t tell the difference between green and red.”

  “Now that you mention it,” said Maude, “his sister wasn’t sure that the shield was red.”

  “Then we’ve been on a false trail, a wild-goose chase, ever since we left there,” said Brian unhappily. “What are we going to do now? The dragon’s horn was the only clue we had. Can’t you help us, sir?” he asked Merlin. “It was you who said that the only knight in the world who could overthrow the Black Knight and save Meliot was the Knight with the Red Shield.”

  “Did I?” said Merlin. “Then it must be true.”

  “Won’t you help us, then? Tell us where we can find him?”

  “I suppose I could,” said Merlin.

  “Wait,” said Tertius. He and Maude had been looking at one another, both with strange expressions on their faces. And when she nodded slowly, he asked, “Will you help us, Sir Uriel? Will you grant us a boon?”

  “Why, yes,” said Sir Uriel. “If I can. But magic’s not exactly my line. Or finding things or people either.”

  “It’s nothing like that,” said Tertius. “You were in Meliot when Brian challenged the Black Knight.”

  “Yes, I was. Good show.”

  “Since then he has done many brave deeds. He fought Rufus of Reith, the notorious outlaw, and rescued a woman and child Rufus had captured. He saved Maude here from a wild boar at the risk of his own life. It is he who led us to this castle and therefore it is principally because of him that you and all these other knights are free now. In the light of all this, do you not think he has earned his belt and spurs?”

  “Became a knight, you mean? I should think so. I don’t know if I can do anything about it right now. There’s the vigil and all that. On the other hand, I suppose you could call this a field of battle. Is there anyone else who witnessed these deeds or can vouch for him?”

  “I witnessed them,” said Maude.

  “And I’ll vouch for him,” said Merlin.

  “That should do it,” said Sir Uriel, drawing his sword. “Kneel, Brian.”

  “But …” said Brian.

  Merlin crooked a finger and, as before, unseen hands took hold of Brian and pressed him to his knees.

  “With this sword,” said Sir Uriel, raising it high, “which has never been drawn unjustly, in God’s name and by virtue of my own knight-hood, I dub thee knight.” And he brought the blade down smartly on Brian’s shoulder. “Rise, Sir Brian.”

  Slowly Brian rose to his feet.

  “Thank you, Sir Uriel,” he said. “I will do my utmost to be worthy of the honor you have bestowed upon me. But I still don’t see why this was needed.”

  “Do you remember what the White Lady said to us?” asked Tertius.

  “About how we’d know the Knight with the Red Shield? Of course.”

  “Tell us.”

  “She said we would know him by his sword,” said Brian. “For it was forged of steel that is not of this earth.” He hesitated, looking down at Starflame. “We would know him by his look. For he would have drunk from the dragon’s horn and known pity as well as fear. We would know him by his strength. For he would first have lost it and then regained it. And finally, we would know him because he does not know himself.” Again he paused. “You mean …?”

  “Yes,” said Maude. “We didn’t realize it either until a few minutes ago, but, now do you understand? You are the Knight with the Red Shield!”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The wind had shifted to the northeast and, pulling his cloak more closely around him, Benedict moved around to the sheltered side of one of the towers that flanked the gate. From there, high on the battlements he could look out on the two roads that led to Meliot—the one that led to the river and the one that climbed the hill—and he could also look down on the sleeping town. For as far as he could see by the dim glow of the new moon, the roads were empty. But a few lights still showed in the palace and elsewhere in Meliot: in one or two houses and at the baker’s, who had begun work earlier than usual in preparation for tomorrow. As to who would buy his special cakes and pasties, he thought grimly, that was something else again. For there was less silver in Meliot this Yule than ever before, and far less reason for celebration.

  There were footsteps on the tower stairs and Gilbert, who shared the night watch with him, stepped out onto the ramparts.

  “What cheer, Benedict?” he said.

  “What cheer indeed?” said Benedict. “It’s cold as a witch’s fingers, and you’re late!”

  “There’s nothing we can do about the cold. As for being late, Edmund just came from the palace and I waited to hear what word he brought.”

  “And?”

  “Not good,” said Gilbert. “The merchants are still closeted with the king. But so far, it seems, they are refusing to put up their share of the gold for the tribute.”

  “Who can blame them after all these years? Paying it has been like pouring water into a bottomless hole. What says the king?”

  “He says nothing. The treasury is empty so he cannot pay it himself. There are those who think that this time he will let the Black Knight take his head.”

  “I had heard that also. And it might be true.”

  “But it can’t be! What would happen to all of us?”

  “What’s happening to us now? How much difference is there between dying slowly, year by year, and dying quickly at one stroke?”

  “A big difference,” said Gilbert uneasily. “For while the king lives and Meliot endures, there is still hope.”

  “How much hope? Has a single champion appeared this time to take up the challenge?”

  “No. At least, not yet. But …” He turned toward the parapet, listening. “Hark!”

  Under the whistling of the wind, Benedict heard it too: the plod of horses’ hooves and the clink of metal. Crossing to the parapet, he looked out through one of the crenels. Three figures were riding slowly down the hill and along the road that led to the gate. They were wrapped in worn and shabby traveling cloaks, their hoods pulled forward against the chill bite of the wind. And, as they came closer, Benedict again heard the clink of metal, which meant that at least one of them was armed.

  They drew rein just under him, and the tallest of the three threw back his hood and called, “Ho there, guard! Open the gate!”

  “Too late,” said Benedict. “We close it at sunset. None may enter after that.”

  The man below him looked up, searching for him against the night sky.

  “But we need food and shelter, for our beasts as well as ourselves. What are we to do?”

  “Try one of the farms near the river and come back tomorrow.”

  Now a second of the figures looked up.

  “Is that you, Benedict?”

  “What?” It was a woman’s voice with a note of command in it. “Why, yes. Who’s that?”

  “The worse for you if you don’t know. And still worse if you don’t open the gate! For if you don’t, and at once, I’ll have you whipped from here to the square!”

  Mouth open, he continued to peer down into the darkness. Then, hurrying to the tower stairs, he shouted, “Ho there, below. Open the gate! And hurry!”

  Gaillard pawed the ground impatiently, and Brian stroked his neck to quiet him. Then, as they heard voices, the rasp of the beams that barred the huge, ironbound doors,

  “They’re opening it,” said Tertius.

  “I thought they would,” said Maude. She began edging Gracielle away from them.

  “Wait, Maude,” said Brian.

  “For what?”

  “I know you’re going, but before you do there is something I would say to you.”

  “Well?”

  “That day at Nimue’s castle you asked me to repeat what the White Lady had said to me, and I did. All but the last part. Do you remember how that went?” He waited, but she said nothing. “Very well. I’ll tell you. ‘Accepting himself, he shall find that which he did not seek nor ever hoped to find.’”


  “Well?” said Maude again.

  “She was right,” said Brian simply. “And since you have given me so much, there is something I would give you.”

  Pulling off his ring—the heavy gold ring his mother had given him—he reached for her hand and slipped it on her ring finger.

  “One day soon I shall come claim it again,” he said. “And the hand that wears it.”

  She remained there beside him for a moment longer. Then, as the huge doors began to open, she clapped her heels to Gracielle and sent her galloping up the dark and narrow street beyond.

  There were several things the Princess Alys liked to do herself, after her tiring woman had gone to bed. Plucking her eyebrows was one of them. That is what she was doing now, sitting in front of her looking glass with a tall candle on each side of it. She had paused to admire her handiwork, the thin, proud arch of her brows, and also the clear blue of her eyes under them, when the bedroom door opened and the candle flames swayed and guttered in the draft. She frowned angrily into the glass. “Oh, it’s you,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Away.”

  “I know that. But where?”

  “On a quest.”

  “Women don’t go on quests.”

  “I did.”

  “You would. Father was worried sick about you.”

  “I left a note.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t say much in it. Just that …” She looked into the glass again, then swung around. “Saints above, but you’re a mess! Look at your face, your hair. What have you been doing to yourself?”

  “It’s just stain and dye. As a matter of fact, I lost them some time ago, haven’t been able to put any on in weeks. A bath will take care of what’s left.”

  “But why …?”

  “You said that women don’t go on quests. And they don’t. But there’s no reason why an old crone shouldn’t. Who would bother her?” She started for her own room which lay beyond, then paused. “By the way, I have something for you. Here.” And she gave Alys a ring, a heavy gold ring.

  “Why, thank you,” said Alys. She held it to the light, examining it. “It looks familiar.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure it’s for me?”