Arthur

The young man accepted this readily. 'Because you knew I would be a king one day?'

'Precisely. Because I knew you would be king one day.'

'By the sword? But I thought – '

'And I let you think it, Arthur. Believe me, it was not for lack of trust in you, but for mistrust of others.' Merlin paused, considered, sipped from his cup, and said, 'Tonight was a test, yes – but not the test you thought it was. You were not merely showing yourself worthy to become a king -'

'No?'

'You were showing yourself already a king, Arthur. The High King.'

Arthur's brow furrowed as his mind raced ahead. I could see him working on it, struggling to take it all in. Still, Arthur did not question that this could be true; his own heart answered for him that it was so.

The boy sat dazed, but only for a moment. Then he leapt to his feet. 'That is why they were so angry! Myrddin! They hated me for succeeding where they had failed. The prize was far greater than I knew.'

The young man grinned, as if this were the solution to his woes. In truth, he had already forgiven the small kings their treachery. He was happy once more.

As he paced before the fire, his face fairly shone with joy. 'The High King – oh, Myrddin, it is true. I know it is. I am the High King.'

This joy was short-lived, however. For, even as the idea shaped itself in his mind, Arthur recognized the implications of his new-found nobility. 'But that means…'

His face fell; his shoulders slumped. From the height of happiness, he now appeared utterly downcast and forlorn.

'Oh, sit down, Arthur.'

'Who am I? Myrddin, tell me! Who am I that I should be High King? For reason tells me that I am no kin to Ectorius – or Meurig, or Custennin either.'

Myrddin gently shook his head. 'No, you are not of Custennin's lineage, nor Meurig's, nor even Ectorius'.' He rose and came to stand before Arthur, putting both hands on the boy's shoulders. 'It has been a long time, Arthur. The Island of the Mighty has been without a High King for far too long.'

'Who am I, Myrddin?' whispered Arthur. 'Tell me! Am I the Pendragon's son?'

'No, not Uther's. Your father was Aurelius,' Merlin told him simply.

'Aurelius?'

'Yes, and Ygerna was your mother.'

'Other's wife!' His eyes went wide.

'It was not like that,' explained Merlin gently, 'Ygerna was Aurelius' queen before she was Uther's. You are Aurelius' true son, Arthur. You have no cause for shame.'

This was too much for the boy to comprehend. 'If there is no shame in it, why has it all been kept secret? And do not say it was to serve me better!'

'To protect you, Arthur.'

'From Morcant?'

'From Morcant, yes, and others like him. You saw how it was tonight. I wanted to tell you when your mother died, but you were too young. It is difficult enough now; you would have understood it even less then.'

Arthur bristled. 'I am not liking this, Myrddin. I tell you plainly, I am not liking this at all! If Ygerna was my mother, why – ' He guessed, even before he could finish asking the question. 'Uther.'

Merlin sighed. 'I asked you to remember that, what I did, I did to serve you, Arthur. There was no other way… No, there might have been another way; I will not say there was not. But, if there was, it was not revealed to me. I have acted by the light I was given, Arthur. No man can do more.' He reached a hand towards the boy. 'I do not ask you to approve, lad – only to understand.'

Young Arthur nodded, but said nothing.

Merlin picked up Arthur's cup and handed it to him. The boy took it and held it between his hands, staring into its depths. 'Drink your wine,' my master told him. 'Then go you to your bed. Let there be no more words; we have said enough tonight.'

Arthur drained his cup in a gulp, then made his way to his sleeping-place. I moved to attend him, but he put out his hand and bade me stay. He wished to be alone.

When he had gone, I said, 'He is right to be angry."

Merlin agreed. 'We have lived with this moment in our minds for years – hoping, praying that it would come. But Arthur knew nothing, of all this until now. We should not wonder that it takes him by surprise. Nevertheless, give him time and he will rise to it. You will see, Pelleas.'

I refilled our cups and Merlin drank his down, refusing more. 'No, enough. Go to bed, Pelleas. I mean to sit here a little longer,' he said, and turned his chair to the low-burning fire. 'Perhaps Gradlon will return. I would speak with him.'

I left him staring into the red-gold embers, searching the myriad paths of the Otherworld for that which would bring him wisdom and courage.

We would have much need of both in the days to come.

THREE

The morning dawned raw and cold. Snow sifted sullenly from a sky of hammered lead. We awoke and breakfasted by rushlight in Gradlon's house. Our host bustled around us, ordering his servants, fussing over each small detail, full of the excitement of great events.

'Eat!' he urged, directing porridge into our bowls and steaming mulled wine into our cups. 'It is a long day you are facing. You will need your strength – and your wits. A man cannot think if he is hungry. Eat!'

In his long life the canny merchant had many opportunities to be close to momentous affairs. Indeed, truth be known, Gradlon's had been the hand unseen behind many transactions and negotiations of power.

Governors, kings, lords might come and go, but always to Gradlon's profit. Though he held to no one and nothing but himself and his purse, his ability to sense the prevailing side of any contest – often long before the battle lines were clearly drawn, or the combatants engaged – made him an invaluable ally.

Gradlon simply understood the fickle ways of power – though unlike most men had no desire of it for himself. He much preferred his own life of trade and barter, of gamble, risk, and speculation. With Arthur in his house, Gradlon was in his glory.

'You can be sure Morcant is eating hearty this morning,' he said, directing his servants to greater industry. That man never missed a mouthful in his life!'

'Sit,' Merlin ordered. 'I would hear of your discussion with Governor Melatus. You were late returning last night.'

Gradlon rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. 'Melatus is impossible, of course – a spine like a willow wand, and a mind like a sieve."

This brought a chuckle from Arthur, who alone among us possessed an appetite. The boy heeded Gradlon's advice and ate with zeal. If it were to be his last meal, I reflected, at least it would be a good one.

'The problem, of course,' Gradlpn continued, breaking the hard bread and dipping the crust in his porridge, 'is that the governor is of no certain opinion about the matter. He has no opinion because he is living in the past. Teh! Melatus and his cronies believe the emperor will come in the spring with four cohorts.' The merchant withdrew the crust from his mouth. 'Four cohorts! Why not a hundred? A thousand!'

Merlin shook his head. Gradlon laughed, 'Which emperor, I asked him? Oh, he is a fool, I tell you. Gaul is finished. The empire is a memory. Eat! You have not touched your food.'

'He will not side with us?' asked Merlin.

'No more than he would side with the Saecsens. God's mercy, the man thinks you are Saecsens! Melatus believes that anyone not born behind the crumbling walls of Londinium is a barbarian or worse.'

'Then at least he will not side with the others,' I ventured.