CHAPTER 37
THE SURRENDERED LIFE
The flames from the smithy roared upward, and cinders had landed on the thatch of his family’s crennig, lighting it on fire. Merlin wiped the tears from his eyes and squeezed Natalenya’s hand. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He ran toward the house.
Natalenya picked up his walking stick. “Merlin! You forgot your staff —”
“I don’t need it.” He hurled himself through the doorway. For the first time in seven years, he saw his family’s home, but there was no time to tarry. He hurried to the back of the house where his family kept baskets for keeping grain and other things, throwing lids to the side. But he couldn’t find the bagpipe.
In the corner lay an uncovered basket with a chicken nestled on top, and Merlin ran toward it in desperation. The bird squawked as he shooed it away, and underneath lay Garth’s bagpipe in an open woolen sack. It seemed like years since Merlin and his father had spoken of the bagpipe as Garth’s only memory of his dead father.
Now Merlin was an orphan as well, and what memory would he treasure? Smoke leaked into the house, and flames shot through the thatch.
He had to choose, and fast.
Sprinting to the wall by the table, he selected his father’s personal long sword, one of better quality that his father prized. The cross-guard was of braided iron in the shape of ox horns, and its tapered blade made singing arcs when slashed through the air. With Uther’s blade now embedded in the Stone, Merlin would need a serious weapon to protect himself. And his dirk could be put to better use.
Next he grabbed his harp from its peg near the table and slung it over his shoulder. From there he spied one of his father’s rings sitting near a pot of stale goat milk and took it. He had felt it many times on his father’s left hand, though it was but a simple thing of cast pewter with a small white stone.
The room was now half filled with smoke. Ducking over to the hearth, Merlin pried a stone from the floor and snatched a bag of coins from his father’s hiding spot. He rushed out the door and into the fresh air just as the roof timbers caught fire. Before looping the longsword’s scabbard onto his belt, he slid off his dirk and held it out to Natalenya. She stood, and Merlin looked into her eyes for the first time.
Hazel-green they were, her lashes long and dark, and her soft eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she looked up at him.
“I never knew,” he said.
“What?”
“How beautiful you are.”
“Can you … can you see me?”
“I think God healed us both after we drove the sword into the Stone.”
She looked at the hale skin of her hands and back to his eyes. “You can see!”
“And I’m so glad.”
She hugged him, and he kissed her on the forehead.
“None of that now,” said a voice. And from the darkness stepped three men. Two were monks, and the third was Troslam, holding a spear. He had aged in the years of Merlin’s blindness, but his golden beard and ready smile were the same.
“Colvarth sent us,” he whispered as he looked at the villagers and druidow lying insensible all around. “And he’ll be glad you’re alive. But … what of the Stone?”
“It’s destroyed.”
Both monks dropped to their knees and bowed their heads, prayers of thanks escaping their lips. Troslam’s eyes shone as he embraced Merlin.
“Did Colvarth find Arthur?” Natalenya asked.
“Shah,” Troslam said, and his voice turned even quieter. “They’re hiding in the woods by the lake. Colvarth asked us to lead you to him.”
“Dybris is hurt, and I need to” — Merlin’s voice broke — “bury my father.”
The two monks, whom Merlin didn’t recognize, rushed to Dybris. Troslam bent down and examined Owain.
“I’m sorry, Merlin, so sorry. But Colvarth urgently needs you.”
“I’m not leaving till a cairn is raised. Help me.”
Troslam nodded, and together with Natalenya and the monks, they brought pieces of stone from the wall and stacked them over Owain’s body.
With each rock Merlin laid upon the pile, the tears poured until he could cry no more and his voice turned hoarse. Natalenya rested her hand on his shoulder, and he found comfort in her soulful gaze.
Troslam lifted a large rock and laid it on top. “We need to leave now.”
Merlin looked at the cairn and the progress they had made. Sure, his father had been covered, but it wasn’t enough! Did Colvarth not expect him to honor his father? A burial and mourning usually lasted a week. With Uther dead, wasn’t Merlin released from his vow?
But did Merlin’s vow extend to Uther’s son? What had he vowed? And then he remembered his words:
For all my days will I serve thee and defend thee,
along with thine heir, and all that is right under Christ,
on the Isle of the Mighty.
The roof of the smithy collapsed, and flaming thatch wisped all around Merlin. Everything he knew had ended, and yet he was afraid to step forward into his new duty. The future of the people of Britain. Merlin’s future. Natalenya’s future. And the future of Arthur, so young and vulnerable.
But with the Stone’s destruction, wasn’t the danger gone?
If Vortigern’s craving for the High Kingship led to Uther’s murder, then Arthur was in peril. Merlin felt the whole of Britain’s future press upon his shoulders like a millstone. Did Colvarth also feel this weight? The old man shouldn’t bear it alone.
“I’m ready to go.”
Natalenya looked from one to the other and finally rested her eyes on Merlin.
“You’re not —?”
“Coming back? No, I don’t think so.” He had lost everything, and his heart felt so empty. Yet she looked at him with such tenderness. He took a step toward her and held out his hand. “But though I don’t know where I’m going, I can provide for you. Will you come?”
She took his hand. “Where you go, I will go, and your people will be my people.”
“We need permission.”
Troslam coughed. “Natalenya, your parents are at the lake too, for a different reason. Come, and you can speak to your mother.”
“And my father?” Natalenya asked, her lips quivering.
“I’m not so sure. But we have to go, and carefully. Vortigern could be anywhere.”
Horses’ hoofs sounded upon the road.
Merlin knelt and kissed a rock on his father’s cairn.
“Good-bye. I love you, Tas.”
The monks stayed behind to tend Dybris while Merlin and the others fled to the woods. Troslam guided them, and they dodged from shadow to copse, skirting the mountain. Soon they arrived at the eastern end of the lake, as far as they could get from Uther’s camp and the few sentries guarding the tents.
Troslam urged them into a deep thicket, where some horses were tied to the trees. Colvarth stepped forward to greet them. The bard held young Arthur, who slept upon his chest. “My … Merlin, you have come! What news … of the Stone?”
“It’s destroyed, and God has graciously restored my sight.”
Colvarth stepped closer and peered up into Merlin’s eyes. “May He be praised, and … may He deliver us from our present danger as well.”
“Vortigern?”
“Yes. We must flee north … to Kembry, you and I and this … little one.”
“An’ don’t forget me” piped up someone from the dark. Stepping forward and pulling the hood of his cloak back, Garth poked his beaming face out.
Merlin grabbed him in a hug and lifted him off his feet. “Garth! I heard you saved Arthur. You’ll have to tell me about it.”
“Nothin’ to be proud of,” Garth said, his voice squeaking.
Merlin set him down, and Colvarth patted Garth on the shoulder. “He has done a … noble deed, but now we must make good our … escape.”
Natalenya stepped out from behind Merlin and approached the bard. “I would ask, Chief Bard, for the privilege of accompanying you.”
“Ah! But this is a … dangerous journey. Why would you ask such of me?”
Merlin smiled. “Because where I go, she goes.”
Colvarth’s eyes twinkled. “It is agreed, then, and I could use a … ah … woman’s delicate help with my young … charge.”
“But there is one problem,” Merlin said. “We need permission from Natalenya’s parents. We were told they would be near, but I don’t see them.”
Troslam cleared his throat and turned to Natalenya. “Your father is at the lake, and your mother with him.”
“Is something wrong?” Natalenya asked, and her smooth brow wrinkled with worry.
“Come and see.”
Natalenya held tight to Merlin’s hand as Troslam led them through the trees until they arrived at the northern shore of the lake, where Trevenna sat on a rock. About twenty feet beyond her, Tregeagle knelt at the water’s edge.
“Go,” Troslam whispered. “I’ll meet you back at the horses.”
Natalenya ran forward to her mother, and the two embraced. Trevenna’s eyes were dry, but the salt of tears had left trails upon her face.
Tregeagle, seeing his daughter, limped over and hissed at Merlin. “A mock upon my fortune has come! A scourge to my treasure and a darkness to my lamp.”
“Father?”
“What did you and your sick smith of a father do to the Stone? It doesn’t … it doesn’t call me anymore. The power is gone, and I am ruined. Ruined!”
He turned back to the lakeshore and began examining a large rock. Then he threw an iron coin onto it and wailed when it didn’t turn to gold. Natalenya bit back a tear as she realized what her father had become.
Trevenna pulled Natalenya closer, and they whispered together. “He thinks to find another stone. Mórganthu had told him it came from the lake. Now he won’t rest until he finds another.”
“Mother … Merlin is leaving with Colvarth.”
“Vortigern. Yes. The bard told me.”
“May I go with him?”
Trevenna’s eyes grew wide.
Merlin dropped to his knees before her. “My sight has been restored, and I want to marry your daughter … with your blessing.”
“And take her into danger?”
“There is danger here,” Natalenya said. “Vortipor expects to be trothed to me tomorrow.”
Trevenna looked down at her shoes, torn and gray with mud. “Yes, you’re right.”
Merlin held out his hands. “I love your daughter.”
She stared into Merlin’s eyes and burst into a weeping smile. She reached out to them both. “Your father has no blessing to give, and so go with the consecration of God and my own.”
Natalenya kissed her mother. “And what will you do?”
“My place is with your father, for good or ill. Tell of my fate to our kinsmen in Oswistor, especially my uncle Brinnoc. Have them send aid in my time of need.”
“And my brothers?”
Trevenna’s face grew sad. “Rondroc’s joined with Vortigern, and Dyslan ran off when he was told he was too young. Pray for us all.”
Merlin led Natalenya eastward along the shoreline.
“Shouldn’t we go through the trees?” she asked.
“I need to say good-bye. It’ll only take a moment.”
“I don’t understand.”
Merlin tugged her hand. “Follow me?”
The clouds were clearing, and the stars danced in the sky. They stopped at a place between two water-lapped boulders. Merlin knelt down and pulled scrub grass away to reveal a smooth white stone.
Natalenya crouched down next to him. “What is it?”
“My father placed this here in memory of my mother, Gwevian. She drowned many years before your family moved here.”
“I’m sorry.”
Merlin prayed for his mother’s soul, then, standing with Natalenya, he spoke aloud. “Good-bye, Mother.”
The waves of the lake rose and splashed the boulders.
Merlin lifted his hand but didn’t detect any change in the wind. Natalenya moved closer.
Soon the water boiled just beyond the rocks.
He stepped in front of her and yanked his father’s sword from its sheath, falling into a defensive half crouch.
The water bubbled, and a dark shape broke the surface, rising before them.
Natalenya pulled at Merlin’s arm even as his heart beat swiftly. Though much evil had come to his family at this site, yet he wasn’t afraid. “No. Wait.”
The creature glided through the water toward them and stopped at the shore.
It was a woman.
Her skin glimmered with a silver hue, and her long red hair hung down to the water. Her emerald wrap glittered, and upon her neck rested a torc of gold inlaid with pure, bright stones. Her slightly webbed hands were held out in greeting, and she smiled at Merlin and Natalenya.
He fell to his knees as though struck, dropped his sword, and reached out to her. The woman took his hand and raised him back to his feet.
“Merlin,” she said, and the sound of her voice jumped through the air like a spring of water in a full and happy rush from its dark confine.
“I … I …” was all he could say.
“Ya need speak nothing. It is I, yer mother, freed from my long years of slavery. Ya have broken the power of those who took, changed, and held me in service. It was I in the vision, the woman in chains. I was to die after a new servant had been chosen.” At this she nodded to Natalenya. “Until ya freed us both.”
“Mother …” He shook his head. “But … that wasn’t real. I know it felt real to me, but that was a vision. It didn’t happen, right?”
“A vision is a great mystery. Perhaps but chaff blown to ya from God to reveal the deep things of the world. And so heed the vision and beware! Ya think the Stone is slain, but ‘tis not so, for the Stone is not what it appears to be.”
Merlin rose, and looking upon the cherished face of his mother, he embraced her. “Father died,” he choked out.
“I know. But ya canna hold me. I was changed by the Stone to serve it all these long years, and though I am free, I must go back to the lake. I am bound to live here amid the waters until the day God takes me home or changes me back.”
“And I … we must go.”
“There is little time. But I must lay charges upon ya. First, protect the babe and ensure he is taken to safety. Then, and only then, go to my father Atleuthun’s fortress in the kingdom of the Guotodin and undo that which has been done.”
“How will I know what to do?”
“Ya will know.”
Merlin nodded.
“Ride now and do not delay!”
She kissed him and smiled at Natalenya, then dropped below the waters until no trace of her remained.
The bushes clawed at their faces and arms as Merlin and Natalenya pressed through to reach the horses. Troslam stood ready with his spear, while Colvarth and Garth held the reins of their mounts.
“You have been … slow, and we must flee!” Colvarth said as he handed Arthur to Natalenya. “Many leagues must separate us from … Vortigern before we make camp.”
“I beg your forgiveness, bard, yet I have one last thing.” And turning to Troslam, Merlin said, “My sister is running loose, and Mônda cannot take care of her. Would you and Safrowana find her and see that her needs are met?”
Troslam bowed to Merlin. “Colvarth has temporarily put into my care the two orphaned daughters of Uther and Igerna — to keep them secret while you flee with Arthur — and we will have little room in our house. Yet you have saved our village, and I will do so as if she were my own daughter.”
“Here is my father’s money. Take it for Gana, and her mother if need be. Here also is my father’s ring. If necessary, use it as proof that I’ve given you authority to take care of my sister.”
Troslam nodded.
The small group led their horses through the trees and brush until it thinned enough to mount. Since the horses were all stallions, bred and trained for war, they needed a firm hand to get them to obey. Riding hard, the company turned north upon a track that followed the dwindling stream, and they stayed to this path until it ended at the main road, which ran through the northern part of Kernow. Here they turned east.
When they were far away from Bosventor, and no sign of pursuers had been seen, Merlin finally breathed easier and knew that it was time. He leaned over and tapped Garth on the shoulder.
“You know, I’ve never left Kernow before.”
“Me neither, at least if you don’t count boatin’ for fish.”
“Garth … I have something for you.”
“For me?”
“How would you like this back?” And Merlin handed over the woolen sack he’d kept carefully tucked under his arm since they’d left Bosventor.
“What’s this?” Garth asked. He set the reins down on his horse’s mane and opened the bag. His eyes squinted in the darkness, and he blinked. He looked at Merlin. He looked in the sack. “Oh, my bagpipe! How did you —?”
“My father bought it from the merchant —”
“Oh, my bagpipe!”
“— before he left the village.”
“Oh, my bagpipe … Thank you, oh, thank you!” Garth dug into the sack and began assembling the instrument. Suddenly he shouted.
Colvarth and Natalenya turned and looked.
Garth beamed at all of them. “Look at this everyone!” And there in his hand he held two perfect chicken eggs.
Setting them in the hood of his cloak, he put the drone to his shoulder, filled the bag with air, put it under his arm, and began playing the two chanters until his face turned red.
So they went, sqwonking and squeaking, down the road.
And Merlin smiled.