Legacy: Arthurian Saga

  "You don't mind?" The latter was addressing me. Our own simple clothes and simpler way of life -- the bedding rolls under the birches, the plain plates and drinking horns, and the worn saddlebags we used for pillows -- had told him that here were travelers no more than his equals, if that. "We got out of our way a few miles back, and were thankful to hear your singing and see the light of the fire. We guessed you might not be too far from the road, and now the boy tells me it lies just over yonder, thanks be to Vulcan's fires! The moorlands are all very well by daylight, but after dark treacherous for man or beast..."

  He talked on, while Ulfin, at a nod from me, rose to fetch the wine-flask and offer it to him. But the newcomer demurred, with a hint of complacency.

  "No, no. Thank you, my good sir, but we have food. We need not trouble you -- except, if you will allow it, to share your fire and company for the night? My name is Beltane, and my servant here is called Ninian."

  "We are Emrys and Ulfin. Please be welcome. Will you not take wine? We carry enough."

  "I also. In fact, I shall take it ill if you don't both join me in a drink of it. Remarkable stuff, I hope you'll agree..." Then over his shoulder: "Food, boy, quickly, and offer these gentlemen some of the wine that the commandant gave me."

  "Have you come far?" I asked him. The etiquette of the road does not allow you to ask a man directly where he has come from or whither he is bound, but equally it is etiquette for him to tell you, even though his tale may be patently untrue.

  Beltane answered without hesitation, through the chicken leg the boy had handed him.

  "From York. Spent the winter there. Usually get out before this onto the road, but waited there...Town very full..." He chewed and swallowed, adding more clearly: "It was a propitious time. Business was good, so I stayed on."

  "You came by Catraeth?" He had spoken in the British tongue, so, following suit, I gave the place its old name. The Romans called it Cataracta.

  "No. By the road east of the plain. I do not advise it, sir. We were glad to turn onto the moor tracks to strike across for Dere Street at Vinovia. But this fool" -- a hitch of a shoulder at the slave -- "missed the milestone. I have to depend on him; my sight is poor, except for things as near to me as this bit of fowl. Well, Ninian was counting the clouds, as usual, instead of watching the way, and by dusk-fall we had no idea where we were, or if we had passed the town already. Are we past it now? I fear we must be."

  "I'm afraid so, yes. We passed through it late in the afternoon. I'm sorry. You have business there?"

  "My business lies in every town."

  He sounded remarkably unworried. I was glad of this, for the boy's sake. The latter was at my elbow with the wine-flask, pouring with grave concentration; Beltane, I judged, was all bark and bustle; Ninian showed no trace of fear. I thanked him, and he glanced up and smiled. I saw then that I had misjudged Beltane; his strictures, indeed, looked to be justified; it was obvious that the boy's thoughts, in spite of the seeming concentration on his tasks, were leagues away; the sweet, cloudy smile came from a dream that held him. His eyes, in the shadow-light of moon and fire, were grey, rimmed with darkness like smoke. Something about them, and about the absent grace of his movements, was surely familiar...I felt the night air breathing on my back, and the hairs on my nape lifted like the fur of a night-prowling cat.

  Then he had turned away without speaking, and was stooping beside Ulfin with the flask.

  "Try it, sir," Beltane urged me. "It's good stuff. I got it from one of the garrison officers at Ebor...God knows where he laid hands on it, but it's better not to ask, eh?" The ghost of a wink, as he chewed once more at his chicken.

  The wine was certainly good, rich, smooth and dark, a rival to any I had tasted even in Gaul orItaly. I complimented Beltane on it, wondering as I spoke what service could have elicited payment like this.

  "Aha!" he said, with that same complacency. "You're wondering what I could have done to chisel stuff like this out of him, eh?"

  "Well, yes, I was," I admitted, smiling. "Are you a magician, that you can read thoughts?"

  He chuckled. "Not that kind. But I know what you're thinking now, too."

  "Yes?"

  "You're busy wondering if I'm the King's enchanter in disguise, I'll warrant! You'd think it might take his kind of magic to charm a wine like that out of Vitruvius...And Merlin travels the roads the same as I do; a simple tradesman you'd take him for, they say, with maybe one slave for company, maybe not even that. Am I right?"

  "About the wine, yes, indeed. I take it, then, that you are more than just a 'simple tradesman'?"

  "You could say so." Nodding, self-important. "But about Merlin, now. I hear he's left Caerleon. No one knew where he was bound, or on what errand, but that's always the way with him. They were saying in York that the High King would be back in Linnuis before the turn of the moon, but Merlin disappeared the day after the crowning." He looked from me to Ulfin. "Have you had any news of what's afoot?"

  His curiosity was no more than the natural newsmongering of the traveling tradesman. Such folk are great bringers and exchangers of news; they are made welcome for it everywhere, and reckon on it as a valuable stock-in-trade.

  Ulfin shook his head. His face was wooden. The boy Ninian was not even listening. His head was turned away toward the scented dark of the moorlands. I could hear the broken, bubbling call of some late bird stirring on its nest; joy came and went in the boy's face, a flying gleam as evanescent as starlight on the moving leaves above us. Ninian had his refuge, it seemed, from a garrulous master and the day's drudgery.

  "We came from the west, yes, from Deva," I said, giving Beltane the information he angled for. "But what news I have is old. We travel slowly. I am a doctor, and can never move far without work."

  "So? Ah, well," said Beltane, biting with relish into a barley bannock, "no doubt we will hear something when we get to the Cor Bridge. You're bound that way, too? Good, good. But you needn't fear to travel with me! I'm no enchanter, in disguise or otherwise, and even if Queen Morgause's men were to promise gold, or threaten death by fire, I could make shift to prove it!"

  Ulfin looked up sharply, but I said merely: "How?"

  "By my trade. I have my own brand of magic. And for all they say Merlin is master of so much, mine is one skill you can't pretend to if you haven't had the training. And that" -- with the same cheerful complacency -- "takes a lifetime."

  "May we know what it is?" The question was mere courtesy. This patently was the moment of revelation he had been working for.

  "I'll show you." He swallowed the last crumb of bannock, wiped his mouth delicately, and took another drink of wine. "Ninian! Ninian! You'll have time for your dreaming soon! Get the pack out, and feed the fire. We want light."

  Ulfin reached behind him and threw a fresh faggot on. The flames leaped high. The boy fetched a bulky roll of soft leather, and knelt beside me. He undid the ties and unrolled the thing along the ground in the firelight.

  It went with a flash and a shimmer. Gold caught the rich and dancing light, enamels in black and scarlet, pearly shell, garnet and blue glass -- bedded or pinned along the kidskin were pieces of jewelry, beautifully made. I saw brooches, pins, necklaces, amulets, buckles for sandals or belts, and one little nest of enchanting silver acorns for a lady's girdle. The brooches were mostly of the round sort he was wearing, but one or two were of the old bow design, and I saw some animals, and one very elaborate curly dragonlike creature done with great skill in garnet set with cell-work and filigree.

  I looked up to see Beltane watching me eagerly. I gave him what he wanted. "This is splendid work. Beautiful. It is as fine as any I have seen."

  He glowed with simple pleasure. Now that I had placed him, I could let myself be easy. He was an artist, and artists live on praise as bees on nectar. Nor do they much concern themselves in anything beyond their own art; Beltane had been barely interested in my own calling. His questions were harmless enough, a traveling salesman probing for news
; and with the events at Luguvallium still a story forevery fireside, what finer morsel of news could there be than some hint of Merlin's whereabouts? It was certain that he had no idea who he was talking to. I asked a few questions about the work, these out of genuine interest; I have always learned where I could about any man's skills. His answers soon showed me that he had certainly made the jewels himself; so the service for which the wine had been a reward was also explained.

  "Your eyesight," I said. "You spoiled it with this work?"

  "No, no. My eyesight is poor, but it is good for close work. In fact, it has been my blessing as an artist. Even now, when I am no longer young, I can see details very finely, but your face, my good sir, is by no means clear; and as for these trees around us, for such I take them to be..." He smiled and shrugged. "Hence my keeping this idle dreamer of a boy. He is my eyes. Without him I could hardly travel as I do, and indeed, I am lucky to have got here safely, even with his eyes, the little fool. This is no country to leave the roads and venture across bogland."

  His sharpness was a matter of routine. The boy Ninian ignored it; he had taken the chance of showing me the jewelry to stay near the fire.

  "And now?" I asked the goldsmith. "You have shown me work fit for kings' courts. Too good, surely, for the marketplace? Where are you taking it?"

  "Need you ask? To Dunpeldyr, in Lothian. With the king newly wed, and the queen as lovely as mayflowers and sorrelbuds, there will surely be trade for such as I."

  I stretched my hand to the warmth of the blaze. "Ah, yes," I said. "He married Morgause in the end. Pledged to one princess and married to another. I heard something of that. You were there?"

  "I was indeed. And small blame to King Lot, that's what everyone was saying. The Princess Morgan is fair enough, and right enough a king's daughter, but the other one -- well, you know how the talk goes. No man, let alone a man like Lot of Lothian, could come within arm's length of that lady and not lust to bed her."

  "Your eyesight was good enough for that?" I asked him. I saw Ulfin smile.

  "I didn't need eyesight." He laughed robustly. "I have ears, and I hear the talk that goes around, and once I got near enough to smell the scent she uses, and catch the color of her hair in the sunlight, and hear her pretty voice. So I got my boy to tell me what she looked like, and I made this chain for her. Do you think her lord will buy it of me?"

  I fingered the lovely thing; it was of gold, each link as delicate as floss, holding flowers of pearl and citrine set in filigree. "He would be a fool if he did not. And if the lady sees it first, he certainly will."

  "I reckon on that," he said, smiling. "By the time I get to Dunpeldyr, she should be well again, and thinking of finery. You knew, did you? She was brought to bed two full weeks ago, before her time."

  Ulfin's sudden stillness made a pause of silence as loud as a shout. Ninian looked up. I felt my own nerves tighten. The goldsmith sensed the sharpening of the attention he was getting, and looked pleased. "Had you not heard?"

  "No. Since we passed Isurium we have not lodged in towns. Two weeks ago? This is certain?"

  "Certain, sir. Too certain, maybe, for some folks' comfort." He laughed. "Never have I seen so many folk counting on their fingers that never counted before! And count as they may, with the best will in the world, they make it September for the child's conceiving. That," said the little gossip, "would be at Luguvallium, when King Uther died."

  "I suppose so," I said indifferently. "And King Lot? The last I heard, he was gone to Linnuis, to join Arthur there."

  "He did, that's true. He'll hardly have got the news yet. We got it ourselves when we lay for a night at Elfete, on the east road. That was the way her courier took. He had some tale of avoiding trouble by going that way, but it's my belief he'd been told to take his time. By the time King Lot gets news of the birthing, it'll be a more decent interval since the wedding day."

  "And the child?" I asked idly. "A boy?"

  "Aye, and from all accounts a sickly one, so with all his haste Lot still may not have got himself an heir."

  "Ah, well," I said, "he has time." I turned the subject. "Are you not afraid to travel as you do, with so much valuable cargo?"

  "I confess I have had fears about it," he admitted. "Yes, yes, indeed. You must understand that commonly, when I shut my workshop, and take to the roads for summer, I carry with me only such stuff as the folks like to buy in the markets, or, at best, gauds for merchants' wives. But luck was against me, and I could not get these jewels done in time to show them to Queen Morgause before she went north, so needs must I carry them after her. Now my luck is to fall in with an honest man like yourself; I don't need to be a Merlin to tell such things...I can see you're honest, and a gentleman like myself. Tell me, will my luck hold tomorrow? May we have your company, my good sir, as far as Cor Bridge?"

  I had made up my mind already about that. "As far as Dunpeldyr if you will. I'm bound there. And if you stop by the way to sell your wares, that suits me, too. I recently had a piece of news that tells me there is no haste for me to be there."

  He was delighted, and fortunately did not see Ulfin's look of surprise. I had already decided that the goldsmith might be useful to me. I judged that he would hardly have outstayed the spring weather in York, making up the rich jewels he had shown me, without some sort of assurance that Morgause would at least look at them. As he talked cheerfully on, needing very little encouragement to tell me more about the happenings in York, I found that I had been right. Somehow he had managed to engage the interest of Lind, Morgause's young handmaid, and had persuaded her, in return for a pretty trinket or two, to speak of his wares to the queen. Beltane himself had not been sent for, but Lind had taken one or two of his pieces to show her mistress, and had assured the goldsmith of Morgause's interest. He told me all about it at some length. For a while I let him talk on, then said casually: "You said something about Morgause and Merlin. Did I understand that she had soldiers out looking for him? Why?"

  "No, you misunderstood me. I was speaking in jest. When I was in York, listening as I do to the talk of the place, I heard someone say that Merlin and she had quarrelled at Luguvallium, and that she spoke of him now with hatred, where before she had spoken with envy of his art. And lately, of course, everyone was wondering where he had gone. Queen or no, little harm could she do a man like that!"

  And you, I thought, are luckily short of sight, otherwise I should have to be wary of a perceptive and garrulous little man. As it was, I was glad I had fallen in with him. I was still thinking about it, but idly, as finally even he decided it was time to sleep, and we let the fire go low and rolled ourselves in our blankets under the trees. His presence would give credence to my disguise, and he could be, if not my eyes, my ears and information at the court of Morgause. And Ninian, who acted as his eyes? The cold breeze stirred my nape again, and my idle calculations dis-limned like a shadow when the sun goes in. What was this? Foreknowledge, the half-forgotten stirring of a kind of power? But even that speculation died as the night breeze hushed through the delicate birch boughs and the last faggot sank to ash. The dreamless night closed in. About the sickly child at Dunpeldyr I would not think at all, except to hope that it would not thrive, and so leave me no problem. But I knew that the hope was vain.

  10

  It is barely thirty miles from Vinovia to the town at the Cor Bridge, but it took us six days' journeying. We did not keep to the road, but traveled by circuitous and sometimes rough ways, visiting every village and farmstead, however humble, that lay between us and the bridge.

  With no reason for haste, the journey passed pleasantly. Beltane obviously took great pleasure in our company, and Ninian's lot was made easier by the use of mules to carry his awkward packs. The goldsmith was as garrulous as ever, but he was a good-hearted man, and moreover a meticulous and honest craftsman, which is something to respect. Our wandering progress was made slower than ever by the time he took over his work -- repair-work, mostly, in the poorer places;
in the bigger villages, or at taverns, he was of course occupied all the time.

  So was the boy, but on the journeys between settlements, and in the evenings by the camp fire, we struck up a strange kind of friendship. He was always quiet, but after he found that I knew the ways of birds and beasts, that a detailed knowledge of plants went with my physician's skill, and that I could, at night, even read the map of the stars, he kept near me whenever he could, and even brought himself to question me. Music he loved, and his ear was true, so I began to teach him how to tune my harp.

  He could neither read nor write, but showed, once his interest was engaged, a ready intelligence that, given time and the right teacher, could be made to blossom. By the time we reached Cor Bridge I was beginning to wonder if I could be that teacher, and if Ninian could be brought -- his master permitting -- to serve me. With this in mind, I kept my eyes open whenever we passed some quarry or farmstead, in case there might be some likely slave I could buy to serve Beltane, and persuade him to release the boy.

  From time to time the small cloud oppressed me still, the hovering chill of some vague foreboding that made me restless and apprehensive; trouble was there at my whistle, looking for somewhere to strike. After a while I gave up trying to see where that stroke might fall. I was certain that it could not concern Arthur, and if it was to concern Morgause, then there would be time enough to let it worry me. Even in Dunpeldyr I thought I should be safe enough: Morgause would have other things on her mind, not least the return of her lord, who could count on his fingers as well as any man.

  And the trouble might be no deep matter, but the trivial annoyance of a day, soon forgotten. It is hard to tell, when the gods trail the shadows of foreknowledge across the light, whether the cloud is one that will blot out a king's realm, or make a child cry in its sleep.