Merlin pc-2 Read online

  She smiled slyly. 'So inquisitive.'

  'It is common courtesy where I come from.'

  'You seem to come from everywhere and nowhere. Nevertheless,' bowing her head imperiously, she said, 'I am Ganieda. My father is Custennin, King of Goddeu in Celyddon.'

  'My greetings to the both of you.'

  'Our greetings to you, Myrddin ap Taliesin,' she replied nicely. 'Will you come in?'

  'I will.' I inclined my head. She laughed, the sound liquid silver on the evening air. Then, drawing her arm through mine, she pulled me away. My heart nearly burst.

  I slept that night on goosedown in a sleeping room next to Custennin's great hall. I shared the room with some of the king's men, who treated me politely, but accorded me no special favour. The next morning they rose and went about their various duties and I got up and went into the great hall, now empty but for the servants carrying off last night's food scraps and spreading fresh rushes over the floor.

  No one took notice of me, so I drifted out into the yard and sat down on the ledge of the well and dipped out a drink from a leather cannikin. The water was ice cold and sweet and, as I drank, I thought of the journey before me that day and found the prospect a good deal less agreeable than it had been the day before.

  The dipper was still at my lips when I felt cold fingers on my neck. I hunched my shoulders and squirmed round. Ganieda laughed and slipped from my reach. 'You must have been very tired,' she said, 'to stay so long abed – and you a traveller in a hurry.'

  'You are right, Ganieda.' I liked the feel of her name on my tongue. She was wearing her blue tunic and kilt of the day before, but had donned a long, fleece-lined cloak against the morning chill. The silver at her throat and wrists gleamed, and her black hair had been brushed so that it shone. 'I slept well for the first time in many days, and as a consequence I have slept too long.'

  'Obviously, you are exhausted,' she volunteered matter-of-factly. 'In which case, you cannot possibly leave today. Leave tomorrow when you are better rested. That makes much better sense.' She stepped shyly forward, although there was nothing at all shy about her. 'I have been thinking,' she said seriously – not too seriously, mind you, for solemnity was no great pan of her nature either. 'What lovely eyes! Your eyes, Myrddin – '

  'Yes?' I could feel the colour rising to my cheeks.

  They are gold – wolfs eyes, hawk's eyes… I have never seen eyes like this in a human being.'

  'You flatter me, lady,' I replied stiffly. Was this what she had been thinking?

  She settled herself on the stone ledge beside me. 'Is it far where you are going?'

  'Far enough.' I nodded slowly.

  'How far?'

  'As far as may be.'

  'Oh.' She fell silent, chin in her hand, elbow resting on her knee.

  'Would it make a difference if it were not so far?'

  Ganieda shrugged. 'Perhaps… somehow.'

  I laughed. 'Ganieda, tell me what is in your mind. What have you been thinking? I tarry with you here while I should be saddling my horse and bidding Celyddon farewell.' The last word caught in my throat. Ganieda winced.

  'You do not know your way through the forest. You need someone to show you.'

  'I found my way thus far without a guide. I found you without a guide.'

  'Blind luck,' she answered gravely. 'My father says that it is dangerous to trust in luck too much.'

  'I agree.'

  'Good. Then you will stay?'

  'As much as I would like to, I cannot.'

  Her face clouded and I swear the sunlight dimmed. 'Why not?'

  'I do have a long way to go,' I explained. 'Winter is fast approaching and the weather will not hold. If I do not wish to find my death frozen on a high mountain track somewhere, I must move along quickly.'

  'Is it so important – your going home?' she asked glumly.

  'It is.'

  And I began to tell her how it was that I came to be journey -ing through the forest.

  Ganieda was fascinated. I told her much more than I intended, and would have gone on speaking just to have her remain beside me listening. But as I was explaining the way the Hill Folk moved with the seasons, a horse came pounding up the slope of the mound towards us.

  Ganieda leapt to her feet and ran to meet the rider, who swung down from the saddle to kiss her. I stood slowly, disappointment scooping me hollow like a gourd, envy twisting like a knife in my gut.

  The stranger had his hand loosely round her shoulder as they came towards me. Ganieda's smile was as luminous as the love between them. I was sick with jealousy.

  'Myrddin, my friend,' she said as they came up – at least I was acknowledged as a friend, which seemed to indicate some slight improvement in my status – 'I want you to greet my… '

  I regarded the weasel who had stolen Ganieda's affection. He was not much to look at – a big, overgrown youth who gazed out at the world through large, unconcerned eyes the colour of hazel wands, his long legs terminating in great flat feet. Taken altogether, he was a pleasant-enough fellow, and not more than four or five years above my age, I judged.

  Still, though he had height, weight, and reach on me, I would have fought him willingly and without hesitation if Ganieda had been the prize. But the contest was over and he had won her; there was nothing I could do but smile stupidly and gnaw my heart with envy.

  These thoughts went through my head as Ganieda finished, saying,'… my brother, Gwendolau.'

  Her brother! I could have kissed him.

  What a handsome, intelligent fellow. O, happy world with such men hi it! Instantly, he improved enormously in my estimation and I gripped his arms in the old greeting. 'Gwendolau, I greet you as brother and friend.'

  He grinned sunnily. 'I am your servant, Myrddin Wylt.' He laughed and flicked the edge of my wolfskin cloak with a finger.

  Merlin the Wild… his joking title made my flesh crawl. I heard in it the echo of something sinister and dark. The eerie feeling passed like an arrow through a nightdark wood, as he clapped me on the back.

  Ganieda explained, 'Myrddin is travelling south soon. His people are there. He has been living with the bhean sidhe in the north… '

  'Really?' Gwendolau appraised me curiously. 'That explains the wolfskins at least. But how did you manage to survive?'

  'My God was with me,' I offered. 'I was treated well.'

  Gwendolau accepted this with a good-natured nod; then, dismissing the subject, glanced at his sister. 'Is father here?'

  'He rode out early this morning, saying he would return before sunset. You are to wait for him.'

  'Ahh!' He looked distracted, then shrugged. 'Well, it cannot be helped. At least I can rest until he returns. Myrddin, I give you good day. I am for my bed.' He returned his horse and led the hard-ridden animal across the yard to the stable.

  'He has ridden far?' I asked.

  'Yes. There is trouble on the western border of our land. Gwendolau has been warning the settlements round about.'

  'What kind of trouble?'

  'Indeed, is there more than one kind of trouble?'

  'It is late in the year for raiding.'

  'Not for the Scotti. They come across the narrows – it takes less than a day – and they row their leather boats up the Annan right into the very forest. Besides, it makes more sense to raid in autumn when all the harvests have been gathered in.'

  Her words pulled me back into the world of swords and sharp conflict. I shivered at the thought of hot blood on cold iron. I looked down to the lake, mirroring blue heaven in its depths, and there I saw the image of a mighty man wearing a steel war helm and breastplate, his throat a black wound.

  I recognized the man and shivered again.

  'If you are cold we might go in to the fire.'

  'No, Ganieda, I am not cold.' I shook my head to purge the disturbing image. 'If you will walk with me to the stable, I will leave now.'

  She frowned and at that moment a raindrop splattered her cheek. She held out he
r hand and another drop splashed into her palm. 'It is raining,' she observed triumphantly. 'You cannot ride in the rain. Also, we will roast the boar tonight, and as you helped bring it back, you must help eat it.'

  In truth, there was but a single dark cloud overhead, but the thought of the cold, wet road ahead appealed little just then. I did not want to leave, so I allowed myself to be persuaded to stay. Ganieda tugged me back into the hall to break fast on stewed meat, turnips and oatcakes..

  She did not leave my side all day, but undertook to engage me in games and music – there was a chessboard with carved pieces and she had a lyre, and had learned how to play both with skill – as if to make me forget my journey.

  The day sped like a hart in flight and when I looked out through the door of the hall, the sky was alight in the west, the sun through the grey clouds edging the hill-line with amber. My horse needs a day's rest, I told myself. It is no bad thing to linger here a day.

  But no longer than that, I resolved – a bit late, I admit, for it was not until I saw the sun setting that I realized that my indecision had cost me a day. A pleasant day, it is true, but a day nonetheless.

  With the setting sun, King Custennin returned from his errands. He burst into the hall fresh from the saddle, his hair and cloak flying. Ganieda ran to him and he gathered her in his huge arms and spun her round.

  It was clear to see that she was everything to him, and why not? As there appeared to be no other lady in that house, Custennin's daughter was his sole delight. Merely seeing her cheered him like a potent draught.

  Gwendolau appeared a moment later, dressed in a silken tunic of crimson with a wide black belt. His trousers were blue-and-black checked, as was the cloak gathered over his shoulder and held with a great silver spiral brooch. His tore was silver. In all he looked the prince he was.

  Ganieda returned to me as Gwendolau and her father went aside to discuss their business. They spoke for some time together – intense, arms folded, frowning – head-to-head in a corner of the hearth where the boar was roasting and sputtering over the cooking flame.

  With the arrival of their lord, men began streaming into the hall. Most of them had been with Custennin, but word had gone out about the feast and there were many from the settlement invited as well. As they came in, the king and his son broke off their discussion and the lord went to greet his guests personally, embracing them heartily. Here is a man, I thought, who knows how to love his friends. What passion must he devote to his enemies?

  'It is worse than I thought,' Ganieda confided. 'How do you know this?' I watched the king greeting his guests, jesting, laughing, passing horns of mead from hand to hand – the glad monarch welcoming old friends, he appeared anything but hard pressed for worry.

  'I just know,' whispered Ganieda confidentially. 'He said nothing about his errand and went straight to Gwendolau without stopping for his cup. Even now he avoids drink – you see? He passes the horn but never takes a sip. Yes, the news is troubling. There will be a council tonight.'

  It was as Ganieda said and, as I concentrated my attention on the scene before me, I, too, sensed the underlying current of anxiety coursing through the hall. Men talked and laughed, but too heartily and too loudly.

  What have I come into? I wondered. Why am I here at all?

  And I began to think of those who were waiting for me far, far to the south. It was wrong for me to linger here.

  But how? I had stayed three years with Hawk Fhain and rarely felt half so much urgency as I felt now. It was different now, however. Now I stayed, I suspected, for a purely selfish reason: I stayed because I wanted to be near Ganieda. Without saying it directly, Ganieda made it clear that she wanted me to stay, too.

  Ah, Ganieda, I remember it all too well.

  We feasted in Lord Custennin's timber hall, aflame with light and laughter, the smoky smell of roasting meat, bright torches, eyes and jewellery gleaming, gold-rimmed horns circling among the gathered lords of Goddeu, who drank and drank, despite the example of their king, who tasted not a drop. Because of Ganieda's warning, I watched the proceedings with interest, and I was not the only one. Gwendolau watched, too – sober and intense from his seat at the high table.

  When the food was finished and the chiefs called for song, Ganieda took up her lyre and sang. I thought it strange – not that she should sing, for her voice was beautiful to hear, but that a man of Custennin's wealth and influence should not have a bard or two. He might easily have kept half-a-dozen to sing his praises and the valour of his warriors.

  Her song finished, Ganieda came to where I sat and tugged me by the sleeve, 'Let us go from here.'

  'I want to see what is to happen."

  'No, it does not concern us. Let us leave.' She meant, of course, that it did not concern me.

  'Please,' I said, 'just until I know what will happen. If there is trouble here in the north, men may need to know of it where I am going.'

  She nodded and sat down beside me. 'It will not be pleasant.' Her tone was hard as the flagging at our feet.

  Almost immediately, Custennin got to his feet and spread out his arms. 'Kinsmen and friends,' he called, 'you have come here tonight to eat and drink at my table, and this is good. It is right for a king to give sustenance to his people, to share with them in times of peace and succour them in times of trouble.' Some of those near him banged on the board with their cups and knife handles, and shouted their approval of the scheme. I noticed that Gwendolau had disappeared from the high table. 'It is also right for a king to deal harshly with his enemies. Our fathers defended their lands and people when threatened. Any man who allows his enemy to run with impudence through his land, killing his people, destroying his crops and goods – that man is not worthy of his name.'

  'Hear him! Hear him!' the chiefs cried. 'It is true!' 'And any man who turns against his own is as much an enemy as the Sea Wolf who comes in his war boat.' At this the hall went silent. The fire crackled in the hearth and the rising wind moaned outside. The trap was all but sprung, but the chiefs did not see it yet.

  'Loeter!' the king cried. 'Is this not true?' I searched the hall for the one singled out, and found him – it was not difficult, for as soon as the man's name left the lips of his king those around him drew away. 'My lord, it is true,' replied the man called Loeter, a narrow-faced hulk with a belly like a sow. He glanced about him uneasily.

  'And Loeter, how do we punish those who practise treachery against their own kinsmen?'

  All eyes were on Loeter now, who had begun to sweat. 'We cut them off, lord.'

  'We kill them, Loeter, do we not?' 'Yes, lord.'

  Custennin nodded gravely and looked to his chiefs. 'You have heard the man speak his punishment out of his own mouth. So be it.'

  'What madness is this?' demanded Loeter – on his feet now, his hand on the hilt of his knife. 'Are you accusing me?' 'I do not accuse you, Loeter. You accuse yourself.' 'How so? I have done nothing.'

  Custennin glared. 'Nothing? Then tell me whence came the gold on your arm.'

  'It is mine,' growled Loeter.

  'How came you to wear it?' demanded Custennin. 'Answer me truly.'

  'It was a gift to me, lord.'

  'A gift it was. Oh, yes, that is true enough: a gift from the Scotti! The same who even now lie encamped within our borders, planning another raid.'

  There arose an ugly murmur in the hall. Ganieda tugged at me again. 'Let us leave now.'

  But it was too late. Loeter saw the thing going against him and, drunk as he was, decided to try his hand at escape, thinking to call on the aid of his friends. 'Urbgen! Gwys! Come, we will not listen to these lies.' He turned and stepped down from the table and strode to the door of the hall, but he walked alone.

  'You bargained with the Scotti; they gave you gold in exchange for silence. Your greed has weakened us all, Loeter. You are no longer fit for the company of honourable men.'

  'I gave them nothing!'

  'You gave them safe landfall! You gave them she
lter where there should be no shelter!' Custennin roared. 'Babes sleep tonight without their mothers, Loeter. Wives weep for their husbands. House timbers smoulder and ashes grow cold where once hearth fires burned. How many more of our people will die because of you?'

  'It is not my doing!' screamed the wretch, still edging towards the door.

  'Whose then? Loeter, answer me!'

  'I am not to blame,' he whined. 'I will not have this on my head.'

  'You sold our kinsmen, Loeter. People under my care lie in death's dark hall tonight.' Custennin raised his hand and pointed a long dagger at the guilty man. 'I say that you shall join them, Loeter, and join them you will, or I am no longer king of Goddeu.'

  Loeter backed nearer the door. 'No! They only wanted to hunt. I swear it, they only wanted to hunt! I was going to bring the gold to you… '

  'Enough! I will not hear you demean yourself further.' Custennin stepped up onto the table and came towards him, the dagger in his hand.

  Loeter turned and bolted to the door. Gwendolau was there with the two wolf hounds and men on either side of him.

  'Do not kill me!' Loeter screamed. He turned to face Custennin, advancing towards him. 'I beg you, my lord. Do not kill me!'

  'Your death will be more painless than any of those who went before you this day. I do not have the stomach to do what the Sea Wolves do to their captives.'

  Loeter gave a terrible scream and fell down on his knees before his king, weeping pitifully and shamefully. All looked on in awful silence. 'I beg you, lord. Spare me… spare me… send me away.'

  Custennin seemed to consider this. He gazed down at the cringing wretch and then turned back to those looking on. 'What do you say, brothers? Do we spare his sorry life?'

  Even before the words were out of his mouth, Loeter was on his feet, his knife in his hand. As the knife flashed towards the king's back, there came a savage snarl and flurry of motion. Black lightning sped towards him…

  Loeter gave one small shriek before the dogs tore out his throat.

  The traitor toppled dead to the floor, but the hounds did not cease their attack until Gwendolau came and put his hands on their collars and hauled them away, blood streaming from their muzzles.