“Do you know her?” he said, leaning forward.
“No, your majesty. I only saw her in the dream. And when she came to our cell.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows again, alarmed, and leaned back heavily into his chair once more.
“And you have never heard of her either,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Savaric shook his head and dropped his eyes to the floor.
“Well, I suppose that the king becomes the storyteller on this night.”
After a long silence, with the stew and the fire warming them, he began.
“I was born to Uther Pendragon and his queen, Ygierne, in Tintagel Castle by the Cornish Sea. But I did not grow up there as a child. I was taken by Merlin the wizard, on the very day of my birth, to live in the house of Sir Hector, where I was raised as a nobleman’s son. I never knew that the king was my father, and my parents and only a few others knew of my birth. Even Sir Hector did not know who I truly was.
“When Uther died without a known heir, all the land was thrust into turmoil. Many knights and barons tried to lay claim to the throne. Those were terrible times, with daily skirmishes and battles taking place between the many claimants to the throne. Many innocents were killed, and life in the kingdom stopped while people hid in their homes in fear.” Arthur paused and sighed deeply.
“Finally, to put an end to the madness, Merlin went to the Archbishop and told him to order the barons to cease the battles for one day—Christmas Day—and to attend church services in Londinium. No one dared disobey the Archbishop. When the services finished, and all the people left the church, someone noticed that a shaft of bright light was falling in a corner of the churchyard. In that shaft of light was a pure stone of cut marble that glowed white. At the top of the stone was the handle of a sword that glittered in the light. As the crowd rushed over to take in this strange sight, they realized that the stone was covered in strange gold and silver letters that seemed to move across its surface. Even more shocking than this sight were the words that appeared there: Whoever can draw this sword from the stone is the rightful heir of Uther Pendragon, and the true King of Britain.”
“As you can imagine, despite the strangeness of the stone, and the unnatural light that shone through the murkiness on that Christmas Day, it wasn’t long before an eager baron jumped forward to try his hand. The stone stood immobile, not moving even a fraction. Many knights and various chieftains tried for hours on that day, sometimes even two or three together, but the stone never even trembled or gave up its prize. Before long the crowds drifted away from the churchyard, disappointed.”
“The next day I was sent home to fetch a sword for my brother, Sir Kay, Sir Hector’s son. His sword had broken during a tournament, and he needed a replacement. In my innocence, I believed that the sword in the stone would be as good a replacement as any. I went to the stone, and it came out as easily as pulling a sword from its scabbard. I took the sword to my brother and father, who recognized it as the sword from the stone. Sir Kay, not believing his eyes, led us all back to the churchyard. It was there that I put the sword back in its white casement and then removed it again. Soon the story of my birth became known, and Queen Ygierne claimed me as her son. With one tug of a sword I gained a country and a kingdom. I was crowned king.”
Arthur stared into the fire.
“I did my best to lead my country, as ill-prepared as I might have been. But Sir Hector had taught me the principles of right and wrong, war and peace, justice and malevolence. Many wrongs had been done after Uther’s death—land had been stolen, borders disputed, fortunes claimed falsely. I continue to put these injustices right, with all fairness, as well as I can.”
“Another thing I gained that I didn’t know I had was a half-sister. She is the daughter of Uther and a fairy. She’s a clever magical creature, and she knows many spells, both good and bad. She knows the words of enchantment to fly stones through the air, to make you fall in love from the smell of a rare flower, to mask her appearance as any other creature, and to travel into dreams.”
Arthur spoke monotonously, staring into the fire, as if in a trance, a trance that broke when Savaric and Elias suddenly inhaled sharply. He looked at them with his ice-blue glare, daring them to speak with his eyes.
“Her name is Morgain le Fey,” he said forcefully.
Savaric and Elias looked at each other in shock. How could the noble man in front of them be the brother of such a creature as Morgain?
King Arthur leaned back into his chair, resting his head. “After I was crowned king, we lived at court together. And despite our differences we grew fond of each other. I suppose we were enough alike that it made that possible.” He sighed and paused.
“But as I put the skirmishes in the kingdom to rest and my former enemies began to see the land peaceful and prosperous again, my subjects throughout the land pronounced their fealty to me and sang my praises. The more the people loved me, the more it grated on Morgain—a bit more each time when she heard exaggerated tales of my exploits and successes. And as her jealousy grew, she believed more and more that she had just as much right to the throne as I. Perhaps this is somewhat true, but I drew the sword from the stone, not her,” he said, resigned.
“And you saw her yourselves; she is just as much evil as good, and that blend can’t hold our kingdom together. Ever since she has looked for a way to seize control from me. And that, I believe, is where you come in.” Arthur looked at the two boys before him and waited expectantly.
Savaric’s eyes widened. He looked over at Elias, whose mouth was slack with shock.
“Where we come in?” Savaric repeated slowly.
“Yes.” Arthur looked from one to the other expectantly.
“I don’t know how Morgain was going to try to take control from you, your majesty. Really, I don’t. We didn’t help her.”
Arthur thought for a moment. “I don’t expect that you would. But you had something she wanted that she took from you. What was it?”
“She took two parts of a map. A treasure map that I found.”
“That you found?” Arthur lifted one eyebrow sardonically.
“Mmm hmm. Yes, found. Your majesty.” Savaric did his best to keep his voice from wavering.
“And this map led to Snowdonia and the Cave of Thor?”
The looks on the boys’ faces showed pure shock. “How did…” Savaric started to stammer out.
“I am king. I have many loyal subjects,” Arthur said simply. “And what did you find at these places?”
“There was a key at each place,” Savaric said.
“Yes, and we had to dig through the bones,” Elias interrupted, “and we … we were almost caught by the sheriff three times.”
“Oh, and which sheriff is this?” the king replied casually.
“The sheriff of Deva,” the boys replied in unison.
“Ah,” the king said, nodding his head. “That explains many things.”
The boys kept their silence, respectfully waiting for an explanation.
“The sheriff of Deva is one of the men that wrested control of Deva when Uther Pendragon died without an heir apparent. He proclaimed that he was loyal to me and had firm control of the town and the area, and I took him at his word. It’s clear now that he might be a little more loyal to my sister.” He thought carefully for a moment, staring into the fire.
“Do you still have the keys?”
Savaric nodded.
“Let me see them.”
Savaric stood up, reached into the compartment in his cloak, and pulled out the two keys. The large bows glittered in the firelight, bouncing pinpoints of reflected light high onto the stone walls of the great hall. He took a deep breath and handed them into the king’s outstretched hand. Arthur held them up next to each other, examining them side by side in a way that Savaric had not.
“The bows are mirror images of each other. It’s obvious they were made as a pair. The twists and turns of the gold are fine, the work of a true mast
er.” Arthur hesitated for a moment, his head turned to catch more light from the fire. “These keys are meant for different locks though. They are close to each other, but not quite alike.” Arthur handed them back to Savaric, who had to quickly overcome his shock that the keys were being returned to him.
“These maps, did they explain what the keys were for?”
“They said that they yield the keys to the kingdoms.”
Arthur looked surprised and leaned forward. “Are you sure they said that—keys to the kingdoms?”
“Yes. I’m sure, your majesty. I was very careful to—”
“And I memorized the third piece, your majesty!” Elias interrupted.
“Oh? How did that come about?”
“Savaric was very ill, and I knew that the last piece of the map hadn’t been seen by a scribe yet. He was so sick that he wasn’t awake for days, and I decided to do something, anything, to make up for lost time. So I went to the scribe, and he translated it. But then he stole it. And then the sheriff came and I was back in the lockup again when—”
“Elias, Elias,” Arthur said, trying to break into the boy’s breathless ramble.
“What?”
“What did the third piece of the map say?”
“Oh.” Elias took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling of the hall. “The maiden will lead you to the way. Naban guards the hill on high but a lowly bridge guards the greater treasure.”
Arthur leaned over, resting his elbow on his knee and rubbing his bearded chin. “Repeat that, child.”
Elias complied, reciting the statement slowly. Arthur repeated the clue aloud.
The fire crackled and a log shifted, breaking the tense silence in the great hall.
“And what about the map; do you remember what the map looks like?”
At the same time, Elias shook his head and Savaric nodded.
Arthur looked from one to the other with two quickly expressed looks—disappointment, then elation. “By god’s body, then there is hope! Gawaine,” he called out.
Gawaine stepped into the circle of light emanating from the fire. “Your majesty.”
“Bring us paper and quill.”
Gawaine bowed slightly and stepped backwards, then turned on his heel and strode quickly out of the room.
When he returned, Savaric drew a copy of the map that he had stared at for hours and hours, hiding from his mother behind the shed. He hesitated for a moment, the memory of home stabbing him like a blade. He hadn’t thought of home or Nana in so long.
“What is it? Have you forgotten something?” Arthur said anxiously.
Savaric shook his head and continued drawing the outlines of the map without the words.
In just a few minutes, he was done. He looked over his work for a moment, then handed it to Arthur.
The king looked at the map and brought the candle closer. “Yes, this is Snowdonia, and Thor’s Cave,” he said, pointing to areas on the map. “This must be the witch tree. This line is Aelian’s Wall. We are here, in Mancunium.” He turned his head to Elias and said, “The words that the scribe translated for you. Where were they on this page?” Elias pointed to the top left of the page.
“Ah, I see,” Arthur said, leaning back in his chair. He stared at the map, mumbling the phrase under his breath.
“Well, you must be very tired. Gawaine, take them to a bedchamber.” The boys stood up tentatively. “Do you mind if I keep looking at this?” Arthur said as Gawaine led them stumbling off into the dark of the great hall. Savaric took a breath as if to say something, and then thought better of it and let himself be led away.
The bedchamber was up multiple staircases and down a maze of halls. When they finally arrived, they fell into the soft feathery recesses of the beds and were instantly in a deep exhausted sleep, dreaming of dark mountains, golden keys, and fair-haired maidens that led the way into darkness. Thick curtains surrounded the beds, cradling them in precious, lovely warmth like a child in a womb.
Suddenly rough hands shook Savaric awake. He groaned. “No, I have only just gone to sleep,” he whispered huskily.
“Not just, waif. Ye have slept for five hours. It’ll have to be enough for ye. The king summons thee.”
Savaric blinked against the ferocious light and cold air that poured into his warm cocoon. An old man pushed the curtains open, his shock of hair graying and thin, his back stooped. “Your friend is awake and waiting for ye in yonder hall.” He turned and left the room.
Savaric hoisted his legs over the side of the bed, his knee protesting the lack of movement for some hours. As the door opened for the servant to go out, he called to Elias, “Come in.”
Elias scampered into the room like a child released from the confines of a house after a long winter storm.
“Savaric, Savaric, can you believe it, King Arthur! We are in his castle! Did you see it as we rode up? It’s the biggest thing I have ever seen! What do you think will happen to us now?”
During this tirade Savaric crossed the room to a basin of water that stood on a small table. He splashed his face then wiped it with a cloth as he walked over to the window. He peered out through the wavy imperfect glass and saw the gates they had come through the night before. Outside the wall, fields of gold lay harvested and empty of life, waiting for the spring planting. Beyond the fields the forest grew thickly, stretching off as far as he could see. The courtyard below bustled with life, livestock and children running amok.
Elias’s voice pierced into his consciousness. “Savaric, Savaric.” He shook his shoulder. “Did you hear me? What do you think is going to happen to us now?”
Savaric glanced at him briefly, then turned to look at the view again. “What happens now, Elias, is at the king’s pleasure.”
CHAPTER 23
The boys made their way out of the room and into the hallway. There was no way to tell which way to go, so they just turned right and wandered the maze for a while. Finally, they asked a young girl which way they should go to find the king, and she pointed them in the right direction. When they came to two large wooden doors guarded by knights, they were about to push the doors open when the knights’ gleaming metal spears swiftly crossed in front of them.
“Who wishes audience with the king?” one knight demanded loudly.
“The king has summoned us—Elias and Savaric,” Savaric replied.
“Remain here.” The knight entered the hall, the door crashing behind him, echoes of the sound breaking through the room beyond.
“You are as cool as a snowdrift on the hundredth day of winter,” Elias said admiringly under his breath.
Savaric moved only his eyes toward Elias in response, steadfastly keeping his head pointed toward the great doors.
Both doors swung open from inside, revealing the great hall. In daylight, it stretched far larger than Savaric had realized. Two rows of fluted stone pillars marched down the expanse, holding up the timbered, arched ceiling. Light flooded the space through leaded-glass windows, with a few insets of stained-glass heralds and coats of arms casting colored splashes of light across the stone floors. On the far end, a large wooden chair stood, its back engraved with the Pendragon crest. A voluminous purple cloth cascaded from the minstrel’s balcony above, pooling on the ground below the throne, which sat empty.
Long tables and benches, enough to seat a hundred knights and ladies, sat alongside the pillars. On both sides of the hall stood great stone fireplaces, their chimneys sweeping high up to a ceiling as tall as a church. On one side the fire crackled brightly, its warmth valiantly trying and failing to fill the hall. Savaric recognized the chairs and the back of the head of the king seated there. He hurried over.
“Your majesty,” he said simply.
“Sit,” Arthur replied with a wave of his hand, still staring into the fire. He stayed silent a few more moments. The dogs at his feet stretched and sighed deeply.
“I have been studying your map and the phrase and consulting my magicians and scholars. Would you
care to know what I have discovered?”
The boys looked at each other briefly, shocked at being asked such a question. Arthur broke his gaze with the fire and looked in their direction. Seeing this, they both nodded.
“The Maiden’s Way is the Roman name for a road near Aelian’s Wall, far to the north from here. I believe this is what is meant by ‘the maiden will lead you to the way.’
“No one knew of Naban and his hill until my cleverest magician, Merlin, suggested that the letters might be out of order. The letters reordered read Banna. The Maiden’s Way does lead to Banna. It’s three long days of riding to reach Banna. There we will look for the lowly bridge beneath a guarded hill.”
“We, your majesty?” Elias said, excited.
“Yes, we. The keys to the kingdoms belong to your friend, don’t they? Therefore, we will go and look. The horses and caravan are being prepared. They will leave in a few hours, and we will follow. I advise you to prepare yourself. We don’t know how long this journey will truly take.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Arthur looked at them expectantly. “Well, go on then. Look for Gawaine. Ask him for what you need.”
“Yes, your majesty,” they said in unison, then turned and ran out of the hall. They stopped when they got to the corridor beyond. The alluring smells of bread baking wafted in front of their noses.
“Ah, that’s the way to breakfast. Let’s go.”
After a couple of lovely warm pieces of bread with eggs and cheese, the boys turned their attention to finding Gawaine. Following a spontaneous tour of the kitchens, and a check of the great hall, they found him in the stables across the courtyard.
“Gawaine, hello. His majesty told us to find you to get prepared for the journey.”
“That’s Sir Gawaine to you,” the knight replied, his face serious.
“Oh, yes. Sir Gawaine.”
“Can you ride?”
“Yes, sir. We had ponies on our farm,” Savaric replied.
Gawaine raised his eyebrow at the mention of a farm. “And you?”
“I can a little, sir,” Elias answered.
The Secret Key of Pythagorum Page 14
