Arthur: Book Three of the Pendragon Cycle Read online

  Slowly, each word weighted with dread and sorrow, I told Charis about our encounter with Nimue. The Lady of the Lake listened calmly, holding her head erect. But her eyes bespoke the torment in her soul. “It was Morgian,” she whispered when I finished.

  “I fear it was,” I said. “I do not know how it is, but she anticipated us. In truth, I believe she lured us there to our destruction.”

  “But you were not destroyed.”

  “No,” I said. “God is good; we were spared.”

  “My heart wishes to tell me that you are wrong, that there must be some other explanation. But my spirit tells me you are right: this is Morgian’s doing. I feel it.”

  “When I found him and saw that he still lived, my only thought was to bring him here. If Merlin is to be saved, it will be here.” I spoke with far more certainty than I felt at that moment.

  “Your faith is admirable, Pelleas. But I know nothing of sorcery. As it is, I have not been able to discover how the spell may be broken or how Merlin may be released from it.” Charis sighed, and I heard heartbreak in the sound.

  * * *

  The room was bright with candlelight. As if to banish the dark thing stealing her son, Charis had ordered the chamber to be filled with burning tapers. Together we entered a room warm with the scent of beeswax.

  Merlin lay on his back, his arms at his sides. Abbot Elfodd sat beside him on the bed, his ear close to Merlin’s mouth, listening to the sleeping man’s breathing. His face was calm, but his eyes were grave.

  “Nothing has changed,” Elfodd said softly as we came to the bed.

  They had shared this same sickbed vigil too many times to be counted; no greeting was necessary between them.

  “The spell is Morgian’s,” Charis said, naming her worst fear.

  “Ah,…” The good abbot passed a hand before his eyes. “God help us.”

  We fell silent, gazing at Merlin, wondering what, if anything, could bring him back. Could anything be done to save him?

  Elfodd was the first to shake off his dismay. “This!” he declared, throwing a hand to the room. “Do you feel it? This fear, this dread is part of the spell. It is meant to discourage us. To defeat us before we have even begun to fight against it.”

  “You are right,” Charis agreed quickly.

  “Well,” Elfodd declared, “I know something stronger than fear.” And at once he began to recite a Psalm in a bold voice: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the sword of my salvation, my stronghold. I call to the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies!”

  Instantly, the atmosphere in the room seemed lighter; the heavy dread receded.

  Turning to me, the abbot said, “Now then, Pelleas, I would hear you tell me what you know of this spell—but not here. We will go into the hall. Excuse us, lady,” he said to Charis. “We will return directly.”

  I told him all, as I had told Charis. The good abbot listened, a frown on his face, nodding occasionally as he followed my woeful recitation. “Undoubtedly,” he said when he had heard, “it is as we suspect: a most powerful enchantment. The weapons we will need to fight it must be equally powerful.”

  “What is in your mind, Elfodd?”

  “You will see very soon. Now then, bring a little oil, Pelleas. And the cross that Dafyd gave to Avallach—bring that as well. I will return to Merlin now.”

  So saying, the abbot hurried away and I turned to my errand. I fetched the oil in a vial, and sought Avallach for the cross. I had seen it once, a long time ago, but did not know where it was kept. I found Avallach alone in his chamber. The pain of his long-standing ailment was on him once more and he was lying on his couch.

  “I would not disturb you, lord,” I said when he bade me enter. “We have need of the cross given you by Dafyd.”

  The king raised himself slowly on an elbow. “Dafyd’s cross?” His eyes went to the vial in my hand. “No change?”

  “None,” I told him. “Elfodd is with him now.”

  “The cross is there…” He indicated a small casket on the table beside his couch. “Take it. I will come along—” He tried to rise, but the pain prevented him. “Uh!” He slumped back, then struggled up once more, his teeth clenched.

  “Please,” I said quickly, “stay here and support us with your prayers. We have need of them just now.”

  “Very well,” he agreed, falling back once more. “I will do as you say. But come and tell me as soon as there is any word.”

  I left Avallach with my promise and returned to Merlin’s room with the cross and oil. Dafyd’s cross, as Avallach called it, was a small crucifix of rough-carved oak, smoothed and polished by years of frequent handling.

  Elfodd kissed the cross when I handed it to him and then, holding his palm above the vial, said a prayer of consecration over the amber liquid.

  He went to the bedside and sat down opposite Charis, poured some of the oil into his left hand, and, touching the fingertips of his right hand to the sanctified oil, began anointing Merlin.

  When he lowered his hand, Merlin’s forehead glimmered softly in the candlelight with the sign of the cross.

  Then, taking up the cross, he held it above Merlin’s head and said, “Great of Might, Protector, Defender of all who call upon your name, shelter your servant beneath your strong hand. He sleeps, Father, an unnatural sleep, for an enemy has snared and bound him in a strong enchantment.

  “His spirit has been poisoned, Father, by sorcery great and foul. Raise and restore our brother, we pray you, Beloved of Heaven; go to him, walk beside him where he is, and lead him back to us.

  “Living God, show yourself mighty in the defense of your own. Great Giver, give us cause to sing your praise from the hilltops. This we ask in the name of your most holy and compassionate Son, Jesu, who is the Christ.”

  The prayer finished, Elfodd lowered the cross and placed it gently on Merlin’s breast.

  Charis forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Elfodd.”

  The abbot folded his hands and gazed at Merlin. “We have done what we can do,” he said.

  “It is enough,” Charis replied. “I pray to God it is enough.”

  “I will watch with him through the night,” Elfodd volunteered. He stepped around the low bed, took Charis by the hands, and raised her to her feet. “Go now. Take some rest. I will send for you if there is any need.”

  Charis hesitated. Her eyes did not leave Merlin’s face. “No…I will stay. I would have no rest apart from him.”

  “It is better that you go,” Elfodd insisted. His voice had lost none of its gentleness, but was now most firm.

  “If you think—” began Charis, glancing away from her son for the first time.

  “Trust me. I will summon you if you are needed.”

  Reluctantly Charis agreed, saying, “Stay with the abbot, Pelleas. He may need you.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  She left then, closing the door silently behind her.

  “It is hard for her,” Elfodd sighed, “but believe me this is for the best. She wants to help him so badly, but her anxiety—so natural in a mother—can only make things worse. The Enemy will use it, you see. Doubt, fear, dread—it all feeds the curse.”

  The abbot drew the chair close to the bed and settled himself for his vigil. “Go now, Pelleas. Leave him to me; I will look after him.”

  “I will stay,” I replied, “as I have promised to do.”

  “I honor the intent of your promise, but you will help your master the more by looking to your own health just now. Go to your rest. I will wake you if I need you.”

  Though the sky still held light in the west, I went to my chamber and stretched myself on my pallet. I thought that I would not be able to sleep, but, closing my eyes, I felt the tide-pull overwhelm me and I knew no more.

  * * *

  In my sleep I entered that state where a human being stands closest to the Otherworld.
The veil that separates the two worlds grew thin, and I could sense the seething darkness that had enveloped the Tor. Deep, impenetrable, black as death, it was the shadow of a great ravening beast—a ghastly thing with wings and coils like a serpent with which it bound the Tor and palace.

  I could not see the unholy creature, but I could feel the bone-aching chill of its presence and heard the howl of its mindless hate. And I quailed to think of the power that had called it into being and loosed it on the world.

  But as darkly powerful as the Hell-thing was, something held it at bay—something stronger still—though I could not see what it was.

  Further I drifted in sleep, and haze dimmed my inner sight, but my senses remained sharp—sharper than in waking life. I slept, but did not sleep. My soul-self remained alert within me and alive to the danger round about me.

  Danger there was. Very great danger.

  It seemed to me then as if I took wings and flew—for I sensed the earth rushing by beneath me: rock crags and broken hills, blurred to sight by the speed of my flight and the vaporous darkness. On and on, over this menacing landscape I flew, hastening onward, but not arriving.

  Yet, when it seemed as if I must journey on this way forever, I sensed a lightening in the strange obscurity around me. Light, faint and faded, tinted the black to grey.

  Feeling the light on my eyes, I turned toward it and the grey cloudlike mist separated—darkness below, and light, thin but perceptible, above.

  At the same moment I became heavier; my limbs grew wooden and stiff. I began to fall back, plummeting down toward that sharp rockscape somewhere far below me. And though I knew myself to be dreaming, it came into my mind that if I allowed myself to fall onto the cruel rocks, I would surely be crushed and killed.

  I fought against the downward pull, flinging my arms and kicking my legs as if swimming. Yet I sank more quickly. The thought of the terrible rocks rushing up to meet me roused me to fury. I fought on with all the strength I had.

  I fell faster. My limbs began to ache with the effort, and I knew I would not be able to continue much longer, but set my teeth, vowing to go on swimming and swimming until my muscles knotted up and I could no longer move.

  On and on I went, struggling, striving, falling back and back. After what seemed an eternity I came at last to the end of my strength…

  But instead of falling, I felt myself rising.

  I looked and saw that while I struggled, the light had become brighter. Indeed, it was as if my feeble efforts had increased the light somehow. Inexplicably, I was being drawn upward by the light I had helped to magnify; the selfsame light that I helped generate was now saving me.

  Very soon I came to a place where the light shone bright and unhindered. It was dazzling white, like the radiance of the morning sun on fresh snow. And, shielding my eyes with my hands, I looked back the way I had come and saw that I had not flown at all, nor struggled half so much as it seemed. For the light revealed a smooth, unbroken pathway along which I had been led…step by careful step.

  And it came to me that this is how the spirit travels toward God: beginning its journey in darkness, setting off in danger and confusion, and struggling upward into the ever-present light which draws it and upholds it always…

  9

  I awoke to a stream of sunlight in my room. I rose instantly. How long had I slept? It was daylight already!

  But even as the thought came into my head, the light faded, pearling to dawn. It was early yet.

  I rose and hurried to Merlin’s room, where I found Elfodd dozing lightly in his chair beside the bed. He started when I entered the room; he had not been asleep after all, merely bowed in prayer.

  “How is he?” I asked.

  “The same,” the abbot told me. “There has been no change.”

  “I am here,” I said. “I will watch with him now.”

  He hesitated, reaching over to touch Merlin’s hand. “I will remain a little longer.”

  “You have done your part, Elfodd,” I insisted gently. “I am ready to do mine.”

  The good abbot yawned and rose stiffly from the chair, pressing his hands to the small of his back. “Very well, I will sleep a little,” he said as he moved away, “that I may serve him the better.”

  Charis appeared but a moment after Elfodd had gone. “Oh,” she said softly, the glint of hope dying in her eyes as she beheld her son, “I had hoped to see him awake.”

  “So had I, my lady,” I replied. “I had hoped to see the enchantment broken.”

  Without another word, we began our vigil together.

  * * *

  For three days Merlin lay asleep under the wicked spell. We prayed, we read Psalms to him, we invoked the protection of the Most High, we bathed him, we anointed him, we spoke to him, filling his heart and ours with words of encouragement.

  All the time he hung between life and death in that trance-like stupor. Whatever our fears, we did not allow them in the room with him, but put them off upon entering into his presence. In this way, he was surrounded always with hope and healing prayers.

  On the evening of the third day, Elfodd returned from the abbey, where he had retired at daybreak, and brought with him twelve of his dearest, most blessed, and holy brothers. They were men of solid faith, bold in belief, and wise to the wiles of the Enemy. They had come from chapels, abbeys, and monasteries both near and far—for word had gone out that Merlin had fallen under an enchantment and lay near death.

  Avallach, pale and grim, received them solemnly in his hall and gave them bread, meat, and wine to restore their strength for the work ahead.

  Then Elfodd led them to Merlin’s chamber, where Charis waited. She saw the holymen and, thinking they had come to perform the rites for the dying, buried her face in her hands.

  “Peace, sister,” Elfodd said, “think not the worst. Rather take hope. For these men have come to help us. We contend not with flesh and blood. As our Adversary is mighty, we must be mighty, too.

  “It is three days, Charis, and we have not been able to loose the evil enchantment’s hold. Therefore, I have summoned these good brothers to lend their aid to our struggle.”

  Tears in her eyes, Charis nodded.

  “Go you now,” Elfodd said, “rest a little. Return when you have refreshed yourself.” The abbot motioned for me to accompany her.

  “I will go with you, my lady,” I offered. “Come.”

  Taking her arm, I led her unresisting from the room. I saw her to her chamber and then went to the kitchens to request food to be brought to her. I returned to sit with her while she ate, and to see that she slept.

  When the food arrived, she glanced at the tray and pushed it aside. I pushed it back before her, saying, “You must eat something.” It hurt me to see her suffering so. “It will not help him to weaken yourself—eat.”

  Reluctantly, she picked up the wooden bowl and began stirring the stew with her spoon, then lifted the spoon to her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. I do not think she tasted a bite, but that did not matter. One spoonful led to another, and another, and soon she returned the bowl to its place, empty.

  Charis rose and smiled thinly. “I feel a little better. Thank you, Pelleas. I will sleep now.” She turned to her bed.

  “I will leave you to your rest,” I said, moving to the door, “and I will look in on you after a little.”

  “Please, take no heed of me. I would have you stay with Merlin.”

  I returned at once to Merlin’s chamber, where the holy brothers knelt side by side as Abbot Elfodd moved from one to the other with a chalice of wine and blessed bread, offering each man the sacrament of Holy Communion. When the last had been served, he came to me. I knelt down and received the bread and wine from his hand.

  Then the twelve rose and went to Merlin’s bed, which they lifted and moved to the center of the room. Each man took up a candle from one of the many Charis kept burning in the room, and Elfodd passed among them, giving each one a censer to be lit from the candle. Can
dle in one hand and censer in the other, the brothers took up places around the bed, forming a ring around it. They knelt and bowed their heads; some moved their lips silently. Smoke from the sweet incense now filled the room, rising up in curling tendrils in the still air. I took up a place by the door, ready should the good brothers require anything.

  After a few moments, Abbot Elfodd began speaking a prayer in Latin, and one by one the other holymen joined him. I know the scholar’s tongue not at all well, but I gleaned from a phrase or two here and there that it was a strong petition for the All-Mighty to show his power in the saving of his servant.

  As I listened, it became clear that the prayer was actually a plea of sacrifice: each man offering to take Merlin’s place if Merlin could be freed from his sleep of death.

  I marveled at their faith. Every man among them was prepared to lay down his life for Merlin. Moved by their love, I sank to my knees by the door and, stretching myself out on the floor, began repeating the essence of their prayer in my heart: Great Light, I give myself to you for the sake of my brother. Restore him, I pray; and if it is that a life for a life is required, please take mine.

  This I prayed over and over again until it became a litany flowing up from the depths of my soul to spread like a fragrant balm before the throne of Jesu.

  I do not know how long I lay like this. I was not aware of the passage of time, or of anything else. It was as if the world of men had ceased to exist, and I felt the innumerable ties that bind the soul loosen and fall away until I was completely free. There remained only the voices of the monks, the sweetness of the incense, and the prayer in my heart.

  Gradually, I sensed a subtle shifting in the light around me. I smelled hot wax and thought that the candles must be burning out. I raised my head and, at the same time, heard a sound like that of a harp when it sings of itself—as when the wind brings forth mysterious music.

  The air stirred softly, as with the light stirring of feathered wings. I felt it cool on my face, and tasted honey on my tongue. I inhaled a fragrance surpassing in sweetness any I have ever known.