"And been cured of," I said, "in a night, a week of nights, a month. I don't know the longest time a woman has ever held you, Uther, but is a month, or even three, enough to wreck a kingdom for?"
The look he gave me, blue as a sword-flash, was a look from the old Uther I remembered. "By Hades, why do you think I sent for you? I could have wrecked my kingdom any time in these past weeks had I been so minded. Why do you think it has not yet gone beyond folly? Oh, yes, I admit there has been folly, but I tell you this is a fever, and not the kind I have had before, and slaked before. This burns me so that I cannot sleep. How can I rule and fight and deal with men if I cannot sleep?"
"Have you taken a girl to bed?"
He stared, then he drank. "Are you mad?"
"Forgive me, it was a stupid question. You don't sleep even then?"
"No." He set down the goblet beside him, and knitted his hands together. "It's no use. Nothing is any use. You must bring her to me, Merlin. You have the arts. This is why I sent for you. You are to bring her to me so that no one knows. Make her love me. Bring her here to me, while he is asleep. You can do it."
"Make her love you? By magic? No, Uther, this is something that magic cannot do. You must know that."
"It is something that every old wife swears she can do. And you -- you have power beyond any man living. You lifted the Hanging Stones. You lifted the king-stone where Tremorinus could not."
"My mathematics are better, that is all. For God's sake, Uther, whatever men say of that, you know how it was done. That was no magic."
"You spoke with my brother as he died. Are you going to deny that now?"
"No."
"Or that you swore to serve me when I needed you?"
"No."
"I need you now. Your power, whatever it is. Dare you tell me that you are not a magician?"
"I am not the kind that can walk through walls," I said, "and bring bodies through locked doors." He made a sudden movement, and I saw the feverish brightness of his eyes, not this time with anger, but I thought with pain. I added: "But I have not refused to help you."
The eyes sparked. "You will help me?"
"Yes, I will help you. I told you when last we met that there would come a time when we must deal together. This is the time. I don't know yet what I must do, but this will be shown to me, and the outcome is with the god. But one thing I can do for you, tonight. I can make you sleep. No, be still and listen...If you are to be crowned tomorrow, and take Britain into your hands, tonight you will do as I say. I will make you a drink that will let you sleep, and you'll take a girl to your bed as usual. It may be better if there is someone besides your servant who will swear you were in your own chamber."
"Why? What are you going to do?" His voice was strained. "I shall try to talk with Ygraine." He sat forward, his hands tight on the arms of the chair. "Yes. Talk to her. Perhaps you can come to her where I cannot. Tell her --"
"A moment. A little while back you told me to 'make her love you.' You want me to invoke any power there is to bring her to you. If you have never spoken to her of your love, or seen her except in public, how do you know she would come to you, even if the way were free? Is her mind clear to you, my lord King?"
"No. She says nothing. She smiles, with her eyes on the ground, and says nothing. But I know. I know. It is as if all the other times I played at love were only single notes. Put together, they make the song. She is the song."
There was a silence. Behind him, on a dais in the corner of the room, was the bed, with the covers drawn back ready. Above it, leaping up the wall, was a great dragon fashioned of red gold. In the firelight it moved, stretching its claws.
He said suddenly: "When we last talked, there in the middle of the Hanging Stones, you said you wanted nothing from me. But by all the gods, Merlin, if you help me now, if I get her, and in safety, then you can ask what you will. I swear it."
I shook my head, and he said no more. I think he saw that I was no longer thinking of him; that other forces pressed me, crowding the firelit room. The dragon flamed and shimmered up the dark wall. In its shadow another moved, merging with it, flame into flame. Something struck at my eyes, pain like a claw. I shut them, and there was silence. When I opened them again the fire had died, and the wall was dark. I looked across at the King, motionless in his chair, watching me. I said, slowly: "I will ask you one thing, now."
"Yes?"
"That when I bring you to her in safety, you shall make a child." Whatever he had expected, it was not this. He stared, then, suddenly, laughed. "That's with the gods, surely?"
"Yes, it is with God." He stretched back in his chair, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "If I come to her, Merlin, I promise you that whatever I have power to do, I shall do. And anything else you bid me. I shall even sleep tonight." I stood up. "Then I shall go and make the draught and send it to you."
"And you'll see her?"
"I shall see her. Good night."
Ulfin was half asleep on his feet outside the door. He blinked at me as I came out.
"I'm to go in now?"
"In a minute. Come to my chamber first and I'll give you a drink for him. See he takes it. It's to give him sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day."
There was a girl asleep in a corner, wrapped in a blue blanket on a huddle of pillows. As we passed I saw the curve of a bare shoulder and a tumble of straight brown hair. She looked very young.
I raised my brows at Ulfin, and he nodded, then jerked his head towards the shut door with a look of enquiry.
"Yes," I said, "but later. When you take him the drink. Leave her sleeping now. You look as if you could do with some sleep yourself, Ulfin."
"If he sleeps tonight I might get some." He gave a flicker of a grin at me. "Make it strong, won't you, my lord? And see it tastes good."
"Oh, he'll drink it, never fear."
"I wasn't thinking of him," said Ulfin. "I was thinking of me."
"Of you? Ah, I see, you mean you'll have to taste it first?" He nodded. "You have to try everything? His meals? Even love potions?"
"Love potions? For him?" He stared, open-mouthed. Then he laughed. "Oh, you're joking!" I smiled. "I wanted to see if you could laugh. Here we are. Wait now, I won't be a minute." Cadal was waiting for me by the fire in my chamber. This was a comfortable room in the curve of a tower wall, and Cadal had kept a bright fire burning and a big cauldron of water steaming on the iron dogs. He had got out a woollen bedgown for me and laid it ready across the bed.
Over a chest near the window lay a pile of clothes, a shimmer of gold cloth and scarlet and fur. "What's that?" I asked, as I sat down to let him draw off my shoes.
"The King sent a robe for tomorrow, my lord." Cadal, with an eye on the boy who was pouring the bath, was formal. I noticed the boy's hand shaking a little, and water splashed on the floor. As soon as he had finished, obedient to a jerk of Cadal's head, he scuttled out.
"What's the matter with that boy?"
"It isn't every night you prepare a bath for a wizard."
"For God's sake. What have you been telling him?"
"Only that you'd turn him into a bat if he didn't serve you well."
"Fool. No, a moment, Cadal. Bring me my box. Ulfin's waiting outside. I promised to make up a draught." Cadal obeyed me. "What's the matter? His arm still bad?"
"It's not for him. For the King."
"Ah." He made no further comment, but when the thing was done and Ulfin had gone, and I was stripping for the bath, he asked: "It's as bad as they say?"
"Worse." I gave him a brief version of my conversation with the King. He heard me out, frowning. "And what's to do now?"
"Find some way to see the lady. No, not the bedgown; not yet, alas. Get me a clean robe out -- something dark."
"Surely you can't go to her tonight? It's well past midnight."
"I shall not go anywhere. Whoever is coming, will come to me."
"But Gorlois will be with her --"
"No more now, C
adal. I want to think. Leave me. Good night." When the door had shut on him I went across to the chair beside the fire. It was not true that I wanted time to think. All I needed was silence, and the fire. Bit by bit, slowly, I emptied my mind, feeling thought spill out of me like sand from a glass, to leave me hollow and light. I waited, my hands slack on the grey robe, open, empty. It was very quiet. Somewhere, from a dark corner of the room, came the dry tick of old wood settling in the night. The fire flickered. I watched it, but absently, as any man might watch the flames for comfort on a cold night. I did not need to dream. I lay, light as a dead leaf, on the flood that ran that night to meet the sea.
Outside the door there were sounds suddenly, voices. A quick tap at the panel, and Cadal came in, shutting the door behind him. He looked guarded and a little apprehensive. "Gorlois?" I asked. He swallowed, then nodded.
"Well, show him in."
"He asked if you had been to see the King. I said you'd been here barely a couple of hours, and you had had time to see nobody. Was that right?"
I smiled. "You were guided. Let him come in now." Gorlois came in quickly, and I rose to greet him. There was, I thought, as big a change in him as I had seen in Uther; his big frame was bent, and for the first time one saw straight away that he was old. He brushed aside the ceremony of my greeting. "You're not abed yet? They told me you'd ridden in."
"Barely in time for the crowning, but I shall see it after all. Will you sit, my lord?"
"Thanks, but no. I came for your help, Merlin, for my wife." The quick eyes peered under the grey brows. "Aye, no one could ever tell what you were thinking, but you've heard, haven't you?"
"There was talk," I said carefully, "but then there always was talk about Uther. I have not heard anyone venture a word against your wife."
"By God, they'd better not! However, it's not that I've come about tonight. There's nothing you could do about that -- though it's possible you're the only person who could talk some sense into the King. You'll not get near him now till after the crowning, but if you could get him to let us go back to Cornwall without waiting for the end of the feast...Would you do that for me?"
"If I can."
"I knew I could count on you. With things the way they are in the town just now, it's hard to know who's a friend. Uther's not an easy man to gainsay. But you could do it -- and what's more, you'd dare. You're your father's son, and for my old friend's sake --"
"I said I'd do it."
"What's the matter? Are you ill?"
"It's nothing. I'm weary. We had a hard ride. I'll see the King in the morning early, before he leaves for the crowning."
He gave a brief nod of thanks. "That's not the only thing I came to ask you. Would you come and see my wife tonight?"
There was a pause of utter stillness, so prolonged that I thought he must notice. Then I said: "If you wish it, yes. But why?"
"She's sick, that's why, and I'd have you come and see her, if you will. When her women told her you were here in London, she begged me to send for you. I can tell you, I was thankful when I heard you'd come. There's not many men I'd trust just now, and that's God's truth. But I'd trust you."
Beside me a log crumbled and fell into the heart of the fire. The flames shot up, splashing his face with red, like blood.
"You'll come?" asked the old man.
"Of course." I looked away from him. "I'll come immediately."
5
Uther had not exaggerated when he said that the Lady Ygraine was well guarded. She and her lord were lodged in a court some way west of the King's quarters, and the court was crowded with Cornwall men at arms. There were armed men in the antechamber too, and in the bedchamber itself some half dozen women. As we went in the oldest of these, a gray-haired woman with an anxious look, hurried forward with relief in her face.
"Prince Merlin." She bent her knees to me, eyeing me with awe, and led me towards the bed.
The room was warm and scented. The lamps burned sweet oil, and the fire was of applewood. The bed stood at the center of the wall opposite the fire. The pillows were of grey silk with gilt tassels, and the coverlet richly worked with flowers and strange beasts and winged creatures. The only other woman's room that I had seen was my mother's, with the plain wooden bed and the carved oak chest and the loom, and the cracked mosaics of the floor.
I walked forward and stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at Gorlois' wife.
If I had been asked then what she looked like I could not have said. Cadal had told me she was fair, and I had seen the hunger in the King's face, so I knew she was desirable; but as I stood in the airy scented room looking at the woman who lay with closed eyes against the grey silk pillows, it was no woman that I saw. Nor did I see the room or the people in it. I saw only the flashing and beating of the light as in a globed crystal.
I spoke without taking my eyes from the woman in the bed.
"One of her women stay here. The rest go. You too, please, my lord." He went without demur, herding the women in front of him like a flock of sheep. The woman who had greeted me remained by her mistress's bed. As the door shut behind the last of them, the woman in the bed opened her eyes. For a few moments of silence we met each other eye to eye. Then I said: "What do you want of me, Ygraine?"
She answered crisply, with no pretense: "I have sent for you, Prince, because I want your help."
I nodded. "In the matter of the King."
She said straightly: "So you know already? When my husband brought you here, did you guess I was not ill?"
"I guessed."
"Then you can also guess what I want from you?"
"Not quite. Tell me, could you not somehow have spoken with the King himself before now? It might have saved him something. And your husband as well."
Her eyes widened. "How could I talk to the King? You came through the courtyard?"
"Yes."
"Then you saw my husband's troops and men at arms. What do you suppose would have happened had I talked to Uther? I could not answer him openly, and if I had met him in secret -- even if I could -- half London would have known it within the hour. Of course I could not speak to him or send him a message. The only protection was silence."
I said slowly: "If the message was simply that you were a true and faithful wife and that he must turn his eyes elsewhere, then the message could have been given to him at any time and by any messenger."
She smiled. Then she bent her head.
I took in my breath. "Ah. That's what I wished to know. You are honest, Ygraine."
"What use to lie to you? I have heard about you. Oh, I know better than to believe all they say in the songs and stories, but you are clever and cold and wise, and they say you love no woman and are committed to no man. So you can listen, and judge." She looked down at her hands, where they lay on the coverlet, then up at me again. "But I do believe that you can see the future. I want you to tell me what the future is."
"I don't tell fortunes like an old woman. Is this why you sent for me?"
"You know why I sent for you. You are the one man with whom I can seek private speech without arousing my husband's anger and suspicion -- and you have the King's ear." Though she was but a woman, and young, lying in her bed with me standing over her, it was as if she were a queen giving audience. She looked at me very straight. "Has the King spoken to you yet?"
"He has no need to speak to me. Everyone knows what ails him."
"And will you tell him what you have just learned from me?"
"That will depend."
"On what?" she demanded. I said slowly: "On you yourself. So far you have been wise. Had you been less guarded in your ways and your speech there would have been trouble, there might even have been war. I understand that you have never allowed one moment of your time here to be solitary or unguarded; you have taken care always to be where you could be seen."
She looked at me for a moment in silence, her brows raised. "Of course."
"Many women -- especially desiring what y
ou desire -- would not have been able to do this, Lady Ygraine."
"I am not 'many women.'" The words were like a flash. She sat up suddenly, tossing back the dark hair, and threw back the covers. The old woman snatched up a long blue robe and hurried forward. Ygraine threw it round her, over her white nightrobe, and sprang from the bed, walking restlessly over towards the window.
Standing, she was tall for a woman, with a form that might have moved a sterner man than Uther. Her neck was long and slender, the head poised gracefully. The dark hair streamed unbound down her back. Her eyes were blue, not the fierce blue of Uther's, but the deep, dark blue of the Celt. Her mouth was proud. She was very lovely, and no man's toy. If Uther wanted her, I thought, he would have to make her Queen.
She had stopped just short of the window. If she had gone to it, she might have been seen from the courtyard. No, not a lady to lose her head.
She turned. "I am the daughter of a king, and I come from a line of kings. Cannot you see how I must have been driven, even to think the way I am thinking now?" She repeated it passionately.
"Can you not see? I was married at sixteen to the Lord of Cornwall; he is a good man; I honor and respect him. Until I came to London I was half content to starve and die there in Cornwall, but he brought me here, and now it has happened. Now I know what I must have, but it is beyond me to have it, beyond the wife of Gorlois of Cornwall. So what else would you have me do? There is nothing to do but wait here and be silent, because on my silence hangs not only the honor of myself and my husband and my house, but the safety of the kingdom that Ambrosius died for, and that Uther himself has just sealed with blood and fire."
She swung away to take two quick paces and back again. "I am no trashy Helen for men to fight over, die over, burn down kingdoms for. I don't wait on the walls as a prize for some brawny victor. I cannot so dishonor both Gorlois and the King in the eyes of men. And I cannot go to him secretly and dishonor myself in my own eyes. I am a lovesick woman, yes. But I am also Ygraine of Cornwall."