Merlin

  From temptation of vices,

  From everyone who shall wish him ill.

  We do summon all these powers between him

  and these evils:

  Against every cruel power that may oppose him;

  Against incantations of false druids,

  Against black arts of barbarians,

  Against wiles of idol-keepers,

  Against enchantments great and small,

  Against every foul thing that corrupts body and

  soul.

  Jesu with him, before him, behind him,

  Jesu in him, beneath him, above him,

  Jesu on his right, Jesu on his left,

  Jesu when he sleeps, Jesu when he wakes,

  Jesu in the heart of everyone who thinks of him,

  Jesu in the mouth of everyone who speaks of him,

  Jesu in the eye of everyone who sees him.

  We uphold him today, through a mighty strength,

  the invocation of the Three in One,

  Through belief in God,

  Through confession of the Holy Spirit,

  Through trust in the Christ,

  Creator of all Creation.

  So be it.”

  When he had finished, Dafyd turned to the monk with the cross and lifted the wooden symbol before Aurelius. “Aurelianus, son of Constantine, who would be High King over us, do you acknowledge the Lord Jesu as your High King and swear him fealty?”

  “I do so acknowledge him,” answered Aurelius. “I swear fealty to no other Lord.”

  “And do you promise to serve him through all things, as you would be served, even to the last of your strength?”

  “I do so promise to serve him through all things, as I am served, even to the last of my strength.”

  “And will you worship the Christ freely, honor him gladly, revere him nobly, hold for him your truest faith and greatest love all the days that you shall live in this worlds-realm?”

  “I will worship the Christ most freely, honor him most gladly, revere him most nobly, and hold for him my truest faith and greatest love all the days that I shall live in this worlds-realm.”

  “And will you uphold justice, dispense mercy, and seek truth through all things, dealing with your people in compassion and love?”

  “I will uphold justice, dispense mercy, and seek truth through all things, dealing with my people in compassion and love, even as I am dealt with by God.”

  All that Dafyd asked, Aurelius answered without hesitation and with a loud voice so that even the crowd outside the doors could hear. Pelleas leaned near and whispered, “All gathered in this church this night, Christian and pagan alike, will know what it is to worship the Most High God.”

  “So be it,” I answered. “May such knowledge increase.”

  Urbanus came forward with a vial of holy oil and, dipping his fingers, anointed Aurelius’ forehead with the sign of the cross. Then he nodded to the monks holding the cloak; the monks lifted the cloak and wrapped it around Aurelius’ shoulders. Urbanus fastened it with a silver brooch.

  Dafyd had turned to Gwythelyn, holding the circlet. He now took up the narrow golden band and held it above Aurelius’ head. “Arise, Aurelianus,” he said; “wear your crown.” Aurelius rose up slowly and, at the same time, Dafyd lowered the circlet upon his brow.

  The holyman kissed Aurelius on the cheek and, turning him to face his people, cried out, “Lords of Britain, here is your High King! I charge you to love him, honor him, follow him, pledge yourselves to him as he has pledged himself to the High King of heaven.”

  At this the assembled lords broke out with a mighty cheer—one voice of acclaim, one spirit of goodwill, one heart of love for their new king. Aurelius smiled and spread his arms as if he would embrace all the world. And I know that in that moment he did—as few men ever do.

  When the cheering ended, Aurelius knelt once more for the bishop’s blessing. Both Dafyd and Urbanus laid their hands upon him and gave him the blessing of the church, saying, “Go in peace, Aurelianus, to serve God, the realm, and your people; and to lead them in holiness and righteousness to the end of your strength and life.”

  The people knelt as he passed, but not one could take his eyes from the king. He reached the center of the church and someone cried out, “Ave! Ave Imperator!”

  Another answered, “Hail Emperor Aurelius!”

  All at once every man was on his feet again, raising the new cry. “Emperor Aurelius! Ave Imperator! Hail Aurelius, Emperor of the West!”

  Not since Maximus had British men raised an emperor. Him they gave a name, Macsen Wledig, to make a Briton of him, but he marched off to Rome with the best of the British troops and never returned. Aurelius had a Roman name, but a British heart. He knew nothing of Rome; this emperor was a Briton.

  They proclaimed Aurelius emperor, and doing so—though they little understood—proclaimed the beginning of a new age for Ynys Prydein, Island of the Mighty.

  10

  Aurelius left the church and the throng pushed after him, spilling into the yard, cheering still. Torches lit the night, and from somewhere, above the wild celebration, there came a song. Slowly, softly, gaining strength as men and women took up the melody, the song, an old Briton battlesong, became a hymn to the new High King. And Aurelius stood ringed by his lords in the torchlight, his crown gleaming as if with captured stars, arms outstretched, turning and turning as the song flowed upward, spreading in rings like a fountain in a pool.

  They sang:

  “Rise up, bold warriors,

  take steel in your strong hands,

  the foeman stands below, loudly shouting.

  Sound the horn and iron, gather spear and shield;

  the day is bright for battle,

  and glory for the taking.

  Mount up, brave warband,

  the battlechief is fearless;

  bold leader, keen in victory,

  he will win the hero’s portion,

  and the bards laud his name in song-making.

  Voices echoing down the narrow streets, the crowd followed Aurelius to the governor’s palace. Given time, the governor too had changed his mind about Aurelius. For upon his return Aurelius found Governor Melatus of a much-changed disposition. Fearful of offending such a powerful ally, Melatus had extended every hospitality of the city—which was heavily taxed finding places for all the kings and lords attending Aurelius. So, it was to the governor’s palace that Aurelius went now to celebrate the Feast of Christ Mass with his lords.

  The palace glowed beacon-bright in the winter night with candletrees and torches and fires in the courtyard. Large as it was, not everyone could be accommodated in the governor’s hall that night. But it made no difference, for the doors were opened wide and the celebration spilled into the courtyard.

  Oh, it was a gladsome time—a feast of love and light for winter’s ending. I was uneasy in one detail only: Uther and Gorlas had not arrived.

  What could be keeping them? I wondered. They should have reached Londinium long ago.

  Aurelius seemed not to notice their absence. He was too much occupied with drinking the health of his lords and receiving their pledges of fealty. But I noticed. And as the feasting began and continued, Uther’s and Gorlas’ absence weighed on me.

  “Pelleas, are you certain they were coming after you?” I had pulled Pelleas aside to ask him.

  “Assuredly, my lord.”

  “What can be preventing them?”

  Pelleas frowned. “More trouble, do you think?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What would you have me do, lord?”

  “Nothing for now; stay here. I may leave for a little while to see if I can discover what has become of Uther.” So saying, I left the hall and made my way through the courtyard. The citizens of Londinium, drawn by the noise and light, flocked to the celebration, and the courtyard revelry now overflowed into the streets. More people were joining all the time.

  I entertained no hope of reaching
the stable to get a horse, so, pulling my cloak around me, I pushed through the streaming throng and made my way to the western gates, which, as I expected, were closed and barred for the night. Also as I expected, the gatesmen were nowhere to be found; doubtless they had abandoned their duty at first opportunity.

  Thinking only to take a look on the other side, I climbed the steps to the wall walk and gazed down upon the road. To my surprise, there was Uther, sword in hand, fuming and furious, standing in the dark, cursing the gate. He had been banging on the wooden door with the pommel of his sword, but of course no one had heard him.

  “Uther!” I shouted.

  He glanced up, but could not see me. “Who is it? Open this gate at once, or by my life I will burn it down.”

  “It is Myrddin,” I answered.

  “Merlin!” He stepped toward me. “What do you here? Open the gate.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “I have sent them to find another way in. Gorlas waits on the road. This is embarrassing, Merlin; let us in.”

  “Gladly, if I could. The gate is barred and the gatesmen are gone. Everyone has joined the feast at the governor’s palace.”

  “Well, do something. It is cold and we are tired.”

  “I will see what can be done. Go and bring Gorlas here, and one way or another I will see that these gates are opened.”

  As Uther mounted his horse and rode to fetch Gorlas, I hurried back down and, taking a torch from the wall beside the gatesman’s hut went to the gate. The wooden beam was secured by a crosswise iron bar that held it in place. The iron could not be withdrawn, for it was clamped, and the clamp fastened with a lock. It began to appear as if Uther would have to burn down the gate after all—unless…

  Now, I had scarcely thought of the lore I had learned with the Hill Folk these many years ago, and certainly I had rarely used their art. But what is a gate but wood and iron, after all? There was no one around, so I quickly drew my knife and scratched a circle in the wood around the lock. Then I uttered the words in the Old Tongue, amazed that I had not forgotten.

  At a touch, the lock simply fell off, and the wooden beam slid easily beneath my hand. With a finger I pushed, and the huge gate swung open on groaning hinges.

  Soon I heard horses on the road ahead; I lifted the torch and held it high. Uther appeared and Gorlas with him. But there was another, riding between them; and as they came within the circle of light created by my torch, I saw that it was a woman. Young, beautiful, wrapped in furs to her chin, a silver circlet on her fair brow. Gorlas’ queen?

  “I did not know Gorlas had taken a queen,” I whispered to Uther as Lord Gorlas and his escort passed through the gate. He sat his saddle and watched the lord and lady ride on.

  “She is Ygerna, his daughter,” Uther informed me.” A rare flower of womanhood, is she not?”

  I stared up at the man. I had never heard Uther utter such a sentiment. “She is fair indeed,” I allowed. “But Aurelius is waiting. What has detained you?”

  Uther shrugged and replied, as if it explained all, “A woman was with us.”

  A woman. She was little more than a maid. And although she was beautiful, she did not appear frail or debilitated in any way. Indeed, the bloom of youth was on her and, to my eye, she seemed to have endured the rigors of her journey most commendably.

  “Pelleas told me about the attack.”

  “The attack?” Uther asked, then nodded absently. “Oh, that. It was nothing.”

  “Well, Aurelius is waiting. You have missed the crowning.”

  Uther accepted this amiably. “I would have been here if I could. Is he angry?”

  “In truth,” I replied, “I do not think he has noticed your absence yet. If you hurry now, he may not.”

  “We will make haste then,” said Uther placidly. “But, Merlin, have you ever seen a woman so fair? Have you ever seen such eyes as hers?”

  The last of Gorlas’ men had passed through the gate. “Go on with you; I will wait here until your men return.” I do not know if Uther even heard me, for without a word he turned his horse and trotted after Gorlas.

  As it happened, I did not have long to wait. One of Uther’s men approached the gate almost at once. I gave him instructions to wait for the others and bar the gates again when all had passed through.

  Flying back along the streets, I returned to the governor’s palace where the celebration continued. Uther was engaged in ordering stablehands to attend the horses. Gorlas and Ygerna stood a little way off, looking on the roister around them. The fires leapt high in the courtyard, and the governor’s beer flowed freely to match the high spirits and liberal goodwill for the new High King.

  Her face illumined by the fireglow, I had a moment to assess this beauty that had so bewitted Uther. She was, perhaps, all of fifteen years. Tall, slender, her finely-formed head graceful atop an elegant neck, she lacked the awkward girlishness of her age and appeared far more mature. Nor was appearance deceiving: Gorlas’ wife had died when the girl was still a babe, and she had been raised from childhood to be the lady of the realm.

  This I learned later. At the time I saw only a comely girl with soft-woven brown hair and large dark eyes, in whose pretty smile a man might gladly lose himself.

  “Will you be announced?” I asked Gorlas.

  “Are we not expected?” he answered hotly, then turned to me. “Oh, it is you, Merlin…” My name was spoken like an oath. He worked his mouth silently, and at last forced out, “As you think best.”

  No, Gorlas wasted no love on me. But he respected me, and no doubt feared me a little—as any lord fears the man closest to his ruler’s ear. “We will go in together then, since—” I began.

  “I will see to it,” Uther said, shoving between us. He turned Gorlas by the arm and led him off across the courtyard. I watched the three of them walking between the leaping flames of two fires, and I saw Ygerna step lightly between Uther and Gorlas. Everything froze in my sight, all sound and motion ceased, vision narrowed as in that instant a deathly foreboding awakened within me. Nothing else existed but the terrible vision before me:

  Ygerna between two kings.

  Here was the nameless danger I had felt earlier in the day, redoubled in force. Ygerna! Oh, fair daughter, in your hands rests the future of the realm. Tonight you are destiny’s handmaiden. Do you realize that?

  No, of course she could have no idea. There was virtue as well as nobility in her rearing. Her natural innocence prevented her from using her beauty as a less scrupulous woman would have. Another year or two older, and I might have been seeing the end of the world stepping so lightly between the coronation fires.

  I made my way after them, stumbling, numb, coming into the hall as they approached the High King. Uther worked to his brother’s side. Aurelius welcomed him, clapped him on the back—I think that until this moment the High King had not a thought to spare for his brother—and thrust a drinking cup into Uther’s hand. Uther took the cup, drank, and passed it to Gorlas, who proclaimed his loyalty to the High Kingship.

  Then Aurelius’ eyes fell upon Ygerna. I saw him smile. I saw the change in his nature as he beheld her. Perhaps it was the giddiness of celebration, or the play of light upon her face, or youth calling to youth, or merely the wine running strong in Aurelius’ veins. Perhaps it was something more…But I saw love kindled in that first brief glance.

  Alas, I was not the only one to see it!

  Uther stiffened. Had he been a porcupine he would have bristled. His grin froze on his face, and the light died in his eyes. He seemed to grow visibly smaller as he stood in his brother’s shadow.

  Oblivious, Aurelius made a gentle remark. Ygerna lowered her eyes and laughed, shaking her head in response. Gorlas placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and drew her forward. A minute gesture, imperceptible perhaps to anyone else, but I saw it and read well its meaning. Whether he knew it or not—I do not say that he did—Gorlas was offering his daughter to the High King.

 
And Aurelius, dear blind Aurelius, unaware of his brother, accepted her with the whole of his heart. He offered Ygerna the cup, and his fingers lingered at her hand. Ygerna glanced meekly at Uther.

  That look might have saved much, but Uther did not see it. He stared ahead dumbly—a man whose head has been severed from his body in a single stroke and knows for certain that he is dead and now must fall.

  Then Aurelius bent near and whispered something to Ygerna. She smiled shyly, and Aurelius threw back his head and laughed. This could not be endured; Uther turned on his heel and flew from them, disappearing into the roister. Ygerna looked uncertainly after him; her hand fluttered out to where he had been. But Uther was already gone and Aurelius was speaking again and Gorlas, holding his cup high, was beaming with delight.

  I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach by my horse, as if the floor had become unsteady beneath my feet, as if I had drunk a very powerful draught that confused the senses. The room spun, and all became sharp noise and sharper light. Pelleas was suddenly there beside me. “Master, what is wrong? Are you ill?”

  “Take me from here,” I whispered. “I cannot breathe.”

  A moment later we were standing outside in the crisp, cold air. My head cleared and sense returned, but I was left with the sick feeling of deepest dread. What had been lost? More to the point, what could be saved?

  I marveled at the speed with which it had happened. How could I have foreseen it? Oh, but I should have known. I had been warned—out on the road my danger sense had been aroused, but I had not looked for the cause. Come to that, I had been amply warned in Celyddon. Nevertheless, my only thought had been to get the crown securely on Aurelius’ head. I had looked no further ahead than that.

  It is strange that when a man spends all his time fighting one enemy, he fails to recognize another, greater foe. I knew him now, but it was too late. The damage was done. The Saecsen battles of last summer would dim in men’s memory before I finished righting the destruction of this night.

  Great Light, we are not equal to the fight!

  Pelleas held me by the arm. “Lord and master, are you well?” The concern in his voice was like a slap. “What has happened?”