Arthur pc-3 Page 8

  As daylight began to fail, I walked the short distance to the beech copse to gather dead wood for our fire. I fetched a sizeable load in no time, and began making my way back to the pool. Halfway between the copse and the pool I stopped -

  What is that? I wondered, listening.

  Was it the breeze in the grass and barren branches that made the slight singing sound? I continued on my way. But the sound grew louder as I approached the pool.

  I saw her in the same instant that she saw me. A maid with golden hair, dressed all in green – mantle, shift and shawl – and carrying a leather bucket in her hand. Her skin was lightly freckled, hinting at various labours in the sun. She was finely formed and graceful; her eyes were large and dark as polished jet. Her free hand went to her mouth and she stifled a cry when she saw me.

  'Peace, lady,' I told her. 'You have nothing to fear.'

  She lowered her hand, but still held the bucket as if to throw it at me. 'Who are you?' her voice was low, and rich as cream.

  'I am a traveller,' I told her, 'and the steward of a nobleman who waits for me at the pool.' I indicated the willows ahead.

  She glanced at the bucket in her hand and, as if offering it to me as proof of her words, replied uncertainly, 'I have come for water.'

  'And you shall have it,' I said. I started once more towards the pool. She hesitated. 'Come, there is no harm.'

  Reluctantly she followed, two paces behind me. We came to where Merlin waited, resting, his back against one of the willows. Merlin opened his eyes when we came near, saw the girl, and stood.

  'She has come for water,' I explained, dropping the firewood to the ground.

  'I give you good day, lady,' Merlin said by way of greeting. 'You must live very near. Yet we have seen no settlements hereabouts.'

  'Oh, there are none, my lord,' the maid replied. 'My father and I – we live alone,' she turned to point vaguely behind her, 'just there.'

  'Perhaps we should go and pay our respects to your father,' Merlin said. 'As it seems we are passing through his lands.'

  The girl bit her lip, her brow furrowed in concern. I did not like to see her in such distress. I reached a hand towards her and touched her gently on the arm. Her flesh was warm and soft. 'You need have no fear of us,' I told her. 'We are honourable men.'

  She smiled, and lowered her eyes. 'I meant no disrespect, my lord. It is just that… my father has gone hunting and I am alone.' As she said this, she raised her head and looked directly into Merlin's eyes.

  'What is your name, girl?' he asked.

  'Nimue, my lord,' she replied softly.

  'Your father's?'

  'Lord Meleagant,' she answered hesitantly.

  'Are you often left alone, Nimue?'

  'Often enough. But never for long, my lord,' she added quickly. 'Hunting is difficult in this place, and my father must range far for our meat.' She smiled, becoming more at ease. 'Thus I am often alone, but I do not mind. I have become accustomed to it.'

  'Are you never afraid to be alone, Nimue?' said Merlin, speaking my thoughts precisely.

  She tossed her golden locks. 'How should I be afraid? No one comes here, and there are no wild beasts to beset me. My father is not long away; I am well cared for. This,' she indicated the land with an upraised palm, 'is not like other places; there is never any trouble here.'

  'Neither will we trouble you,' Merlin replied, turning away, 'save for a night's rest beside your pool.'

  She held him with the silky insinuation of her voice. 'Oh, but you need not sleep beside this pool, my lord – not as long as I have a roof to cover you, and a hearth to warm you. You are clearly a man of renown; it is beneath you to sleep on the cold ground.'

  'Your offer is kind,' said Merlin. 'But as your father is away, we would not think to intrude upon you.' He made to dismiss her, but again she challenged him.

  'Whether my father is here or away, the hospitality of our house is mine to extend to whoever I will. And as I believe you to be upright men,' she glanced at me and smiled prettily, 'I would deem it an honour for you to accept my humble offer – ' her eyes sparkled with good humour, 'and an offence if you do not.'

  Strangely, the maid spoke like a woman of high birth: forthrightly, and with courtesy. I found myself admiring her and wondering how she came to be living in this wilderness.

  Merlin laughed. 'Never let it be said that we have given offence where it might be prevented.' He turned to me. Telleas, we will accompany this maid to her dwelling.'

  I gathered up our few belongings and turned to the horses. 'It is not far,' Nimue said. The beasts will fare well here.'

  'We can leave them,' Merlin told me.

  'But – ' I opened my mouth in protest.

  'It will be well,' insisted Merlin. 'Leave them.'

  I did not like to leave them unattended, but as the house was nearby, and there was no danger, I did as I was bade. Tucking our weapons under my arm, I fell into step behind Nimue as she led the way.

  Indeed, the house was not far. I do not see how we could have missed coming upon it, for if we had ridden but a few dozen paces further we would have seen it. Perhaps the pool held our attention, or the willows obscured it…

  It was a solid house, built all of stone. A small yard lay before it, clean and carefully tended. To one side was a sheep enclosure, but I saw no sheep within. Inside, the floor was flagged with stone, and the walls were limed. In all it was neat and well-cared-for. Clearly, Nimue and her father lived well and took pride in their small holding.

  A fire was burning in the hearth, and there was meat on the spit: three good-sized fowl of some kind. A black pot of porridge bubbled next to the flames. A great table of the son often found in a king's hall occupied much of the single room. An enormous white ox-hide concealed an alcove next to the hearth which served as a bedplace. Another white hide hung across the further part of the room.

  Behind this, Nimue disappeared upon entering the house, only to emerge a moment later bearing a wineskin and silver cups on a tray of polished wood.

  She poured the wine into the cups and, after dashing a few drops over the rim hi honour of the household god, offered the first to Merlin. 'The guest cup, my lord. Health and long life be yours.'

  She waited until he drained his cup before offering the next to me. I raised the cup to my mouth, but as the ruby liquid touched my lips I was overwhelmed by the urge to sneeze. I sneezed once, violently, and then again.

  When I regained my composure, I once more lifted the cup to my mouth – only to sneeze yet again. Nimue glanced at me furtively. Was it concern? Or was it fear I saw in her eyes?

  Seeking to reassure her, I apologized, saying, 'Wine sometimes has an unfortunate effect on me. Think no ill of it, but I will decline.' So saying, I replaced my cup on the board.

  The evening passed pleasantly. We dined on the roast fowl and porridge, and talked of the affairs of the realm. Nimue was most interested in the news we brought, and asked many questions – questions which revealed a lively intellect and a wide knowledge of the world beyond her door. Certainly, we were not the first travellers to have sheltered beneath her father's roof.

  After we had eaten and talked, it came into my mind to return to the horses. I was still a little anxious for them, and considered that it would do no harm to see them settled for the night. I stood up to take my leave, and Nimue came to me. Taking my hands, she said, 'Do not go, my lord. It is dark and you might fall into the pool.' 'I can swim,' I replied with a laugh, and stepped outside. It was a clear night, the moon bright overhead. I could see my way with ease, and began walking along the path. The pool shimmered in the moonlight, glowing like an earth-bound star. The horses stood flank to flank, heads down. They whickered softly as I approached. I stroked their necks gently and spoke to them. Then I examined the tether ropes, satisfied myself that they were secure, and started back.

  I suppose I must have lost direction in the moonlight, for, after walking a fair way, I did not reach the house.


  It is possible to become lost in unfamiliar places, especially in the dark. Yet I had no difficulty finding my way back to the pool. Then, as I sought to retrace my steps to the house, I heard singing – the same lilting voice I had heard before encountering Nimue – though I could see no one.

  I continued on and inexplicably returned to the pool a short time later. I struck off once more along the path – certain that it was the correct path and not some other, for I was more careful to mind my way. Nevertheless, I soon found myself lost amidst a growth of elder bushes. And again I heard the eerie singing. I called out, but there was no answer. I waited and called again. The singing stopped.

  Turning my steps once more to the pool, I marked that it took longer to regain it this time. The way had become confused and altered subtly.

  At last I reached the pool, approaching now it from a different direction. This puzzled me, but instead of starting off once more, I sat down for a moment to think it out clearly.

  The house was nearby – not more than a few hundred paces from the pool in any event. It did not seem possible that I could walk and miss the place: the moon was high and bright, the way easily marked.

  Yet, thrice I had lost my way. Drawing a deep breath, I set off once more, careful to keep the pool at my back, ignoring the path and trusting my own quickly diminishing sense of direction.

  I walked for a short while – much further than I remembered – and was about to turn back when I saw it. Directly ahead, shimmering in the moonlight, stood the house; the light from the hearthfire faintly glowing in the doorway. Smoke seeped slowly through the roof-thatch, silvery in the moonglow, rising like the vapours from a fetid fen.

  I moved towards the light, and upon reaching the door I heard singing: soft, lilting, sweet; and yet I shivered to hear it. For, more than anything else, the sound possessed the haunting melancholy quality of a chill autumn wind through bare willow branches.

  I paused on the threshold of the house and listened, but the last few notes trailed away into silence and the song was finished.

  The horses are set – 'I began, then froze, staring.

  Merlin lay on the floor near the hearth, his head in Nimue's lap. She held Merlin's knife in her hand. At my intrusion, her face turned towards me, and – I cannot be certain – but in the flickering firelight it seemed her features contorted in an expression of unutterable rage and contempt. And I felt as if a spear pierced my belly and twisted in my entrails.

  Nimue smiled invitingly. Placing a long finger to her lips, she whispered, 'Your master is asleep.' She smoothed his hair and bent to kiss him.

  My reaction was sharp and quick. Anger blazed through me like lightning. 'No! You cannot – ' I leapt forward, but she held up a hand and I halted.

  'Shh! You will wake him!' Then, more softly, 'I was singing and he fell asleep… he was so tired.'

  As quickly as it had erupted, the heat of my fury melted away and I stood looking on, feeling foolish and contrite. 'I am sorry,' I mumbled, 'I thought… '

  Nimue smiled. 'Say no more. I understand.' She turned and, as if forgetting me, began stroking Merlin's head once more, then bent and kissed him chastely on the forehead, and replaced the knife in his belt. She murmured something over him and then carefully lowered his head and shoulders to the hearth.

  She rose and came to me, smiling, and put her hands on my chest. 'Forgive me,' she whispered, putting her face close to mine. I caught the scent of apple blossoms on her breath. 'He looked so peaceful, I could not resist… '

  Her lips parted, and her eyelids closed. She pressed her mouth against mine and I tasted the sweet warmth of her lips. I felt her fingers on my wrist, guiding my hand to her breast, and in that moment I wanted her as I have desired no other woman.

  Nimue held her body next to mine, pressing her loins against my thigh. I felt her firm warm flesh beneath my hands and I ached for her.

  The next thing I knew she was standing before the fire and her mantle was slipping to the floor.

  Her body was exquisitely formed, flawless, its curved symmetry revealed by the shadows and light from the hearthfire. She turned, cupping her breasts with her hands, and walked slowly towards me, as if offering me the ripeness of her body.

  I reached out a hand to touch her, to take her.

  Into my mind sprang the image of two people coupled in the act of love, limbs intertwined, bodies straining. And it seemed to me that something hideous was happening. The image shifted slightly and I saw that the body of the woman was a rotting corpse…

  All desire vanished in that instant, replaced by an unspeakable repulsion. Sickened, I turned away.

  ‘Pelleas… ' her breath was hot on the back of my neck, her voice a moan of desire. 'Take me, Pelleas, I want to love you.'

  'No!' The shout tore unbidden from my throat. 'No!'

  Her hands were on me, encircling my waist, caressing me. 'Love me, Pelleas. I want you.'

  'Leave me!' I screamed again and whirled towards her, my hand poised to strike.

  Nimue stood defiant, a look of haughty triumph on her beautiful face. 'Do it,' she urged, 'strike me!'

  With an effort of will, I lowered my hand. The desire to strike her remained strong, yet I resisted. 'I will not.'

  Her seduction failed, she nevertheless could not resist gloating. 'I despise weakness,' she hissed. 'Show me you are not weak.' She stepped towards me, her hands stroking her thighs.

  'Get away from me, whore!' I said, forcing out each word. 'In the name of Jesu, stay back!'

  She halted, her lips twisting in revulsion. 'You will live to regret this, Pelleas ap Belyn!' she rasped, as if she had been struck a blow in the stomach. Then she whirled away, scooped up her clothing, and fled from the house.

  As soon as Nimue vanished, a great weariness came over me. The room grew dark, and wavered in my sight like a reflection in a pool. I felt drunk – yet I had touched no wine. On unsteady, unfeeling legs I stumbled to the bedplace; it was all I could do to keep from falling over. I tumbled headlong onto the straw pallet…

  I awoke to sunlight streaming into my eyes, and the sound of a horse nickering softly. I raised myself up and saw that I lay in the grass beside the pool. My horse grazed nearby on its tether. Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

  All at once, memory of what had happened the night before came rushing back to me and I jumped to my feet. My head pounded with a dull throb, my eyes ached and my limbs were sore, but I was unharmed. I ran up the path towards the house.

  The dwelling was not there!

  I searched until I panted for breath, but could not find it. The solid stone structure was nowhere to be seen. The house was gone – and Merlin with it.

  I realized what had taken place. But it was too late. Too late. I cursed my blindness, and the ease with which I had succumbed to the enchantment.

  And then I remembered Nimu and the threat uttered in her rage: You will live to regret this, Pelleas ap Belyn…

  She had called me by name! A wave of sick dread convulsed me. The bile rose to my gorge and I retched -

  – Morgian!

  EIGHT

  Fear came swimming out of the very air. What if Morgian should return to claim her prize?

  Blessed Jesu, help me! Where is Merlin?

  I ran. Searching blindly. Stumbling, falling, picking myself up and running on, I searched for the house – but I could not find it, or Merlin. I called his name, but there was no answer… no answer.

  In the end, I returned to the pool and forced myself to kneel down and drink. Somewhat refreshed, I washed my sweating face and then set about saddling the horses.

  I was resolved in my soul to find my master, or die trying. Though Morgian returned… though all the powers of hell raged against me… I determined to find him and free him from the sorcery that bound him.

  With this vow in my heart, I went down on my knees and prayed for the leading of the Guiding Hand and the protection of angels and archangels. Then I rose and swung into the sa
ddle, and thus began my search anew.

  Perhaps prayer is so rarely heard in that wilderness that it is answered all the more readily. Or perhaps wherever the Adversary flaunts his power, the Most High quickly grants the plea of any anguished bean that seeks him.

  However it was, my urgent prayers soon turned to shouts of praise, for I had ridden but half-way round the pool when I saw my master. He was lying face down beneath an elder bush, his legs and feet in the water.

  I vaulted from the saddle and ran to him, hauled him from the pool and rolled him on his back. Pressing my ear to his chest, I listened. He lived. His heart beat slowly, but rhythmically. He slept – a deathlike, leaden sleep: no movement, breath light and shallow.

  Cradling him in my arms, I began chafing his hands and shaking his shoulders in an effort to rouse him. But I could not.

  I rose to my feet, contemplating what next to do. Clearly, we could not stay in the forest. We needed help. There was nothing for it but to ride for Benowyc, but I could not leave Merlin.

  'Forgive me, Master, there is no other way." So saying, I raised him up to sitting position and, bending low, took his weight on my shoulders and lifted him.

  Slowly, and with immense difficulty, I eased my master onto his horse. Then, though it hurt me to do it, I drew his hands together around his mount's neck and bound them – all the while praying his forgiveness for the pain I knew it would cause him.

  At last, satisfied that he would not topple from the saddle, I took his mount's reins and tied them to the cantles of my saddle. Without a backward glance I started for Benowyc.

  'Whatever is required will be done,' Ban repeated earnestly. 'You have but to name it.'

  I could think of nothing save bearing Merlin away to Ynys Avallach as soon as possible. For I had made up my mind that if my master were to be healed anywhere on this earth it would be at the Shrine of the Saviour God near the Fisher King's palace. And if anyone in this worlds-realm could heal him, it would be Charis, the Lady of the Lake.