Arthur

And Merlin saw that, much as Arthur wanted to climb the mountain, Cai wanted it more, but for a far different reason.

'Now, Caius, you cannot -' began Ectorius.

Merlin cut him short with a gesture. 'Of course,' Merlin told him, 'I think it is time this mountain was conquered. And you two are just the men to do it. Well, hurry or you will be left behind.' He waved Cai away, and the boy rode after Arthur.

'Do you think it wise?' asked Ectorius, watching his son with some apprehension. Long had he protected his son's lame leg – the result of an accident and a poorly set bone when Cai was first learning to ride.

'No,' replied Merlin, 'it is foolishness itself to let them go.'

‘Then why -?'

Merlin smiled, lifting a hand to the mountain. 'Because if we prevented them now they would never again risk the impossible with a whole and open heart.'

'Is that so important?'

'For ordinary men, no.' Merlin shook his head, watching the boys ride away. 'But, Ector, we are not about making ordinary men.'

‘They could get themselves killed!'

'Then they will die in glorious defeat,' Merlin declared. Ectorius opened his mouth to protest, but my master stopped him, saying, 'Ector, they will die one day in any event and we cannot prevent that. Do you not see it?'

'No, I do not. This is needless hazard.' Ectorius showed his contempt for such an idea.

'The dead are so long dead,' Merlin said. 'Better to have lived while alive, yes? Besides, if they achieve this they will have conquered a giant; they will be invincible!'

'If they do not?'

‘Then they will learn something about the limitations of men.'

'A costly lesson, it seems to me,' muttered Ectorius.

"Then it will be valued all the more. Come, be of good cheer, my friend,' coaxed Merlin, 'If God and his angels stand ready to uphold them, can we do less?'

Ectorius lapsed into a sullen silence, and we turned our horses to follow the boys, catching them up some time later in one of the high meadows beneath the looming slopes, as they, stood discussing the best way to begin.

'Well? What is it to be?' asked Merlin.

'This appears to be the best way,' answered Arthur at once. 'The others are too steep. On this side we can walk a fair way up.'

'Then get on with it,' Merlin told them, casting an eye towards the sun. 'The best of the day is yours. We will make camp and await you here.'

'He is right,' said Arthur to Cai, setting his jaw. 'Let us begin.' Taking only a waterskin apiece and a couple of barley loaves, they bade us farewell and began their assault on Eryri. We, in turn, began making camp and settled down to wait.

Ectorius and some of his men went off hunting just after midday, and returned at dusk with a dozen hares and as many pheasants. The larger game they had let go, since we could neither eat it nor take it with us.

While the men cleaned the game and made our supper, Ectorius described the wealth of game they had seen – casting his eyes now and again at the slopes of the mountain above us. At last, he said, 'Will they stay up there all night, do you think?'

'I expect so,' I answered. 'It is too far to come down, and they cannot have reached the top yet.'

'I do not like to think of them climbing up there in the dark.'

'They are sensible enough,' I assured him. 'They will stop and rest for the night.'

'It is not their rest I am worried about.' Ectorius turned abruptly and went about his chores.

I wondered at Merlin, for he seemed not at all concerned about the enterprise. Usually, he exercised the utmost care where Arthur's safety was concerned. A little later, as the hares and pheasants were roasting on spits over the fire, I sought him at the streamside where he was filling waterskins and watering horses. I asked him about this and he simply replied, 'Be at ease, Pelleas. I see no hurt in this place.'

'What have you seen?'

He stopped and stood, turning his eyes back to the mountain, whose top was aflame with sunset's crimson afterglow. He was silent for a moment, his eyes alight with the strange fire from the heights. 'I have seen a mountain wearing a man's name and that name is Arthur.'

We waited all through the next day, and Ectorius held his peace. But, as night came on and a chill crept into the air, he stalked over to Merlin, hands on hips. 'They have not returned."

'No, they have not,' agreed Merlin.

'Something has happened.' He glanced uneasily up at the darkening mountainside, as if to see the boys clinging there. His mouth worked silently for a moment, then he burst forth: 'Cai's leg! Why the boy can hardly walk as it is – I should never have allowed them to go.'

'Peace, Ector. You have no cause for worry. They will return when they have done what they can do.'

'When they have broken their necks, you mean.'

'I do not think that likely.'

'More like than not!' Ectorius grumbled. But he said no more about it that night.

The next morning the boys had still not returned and I began to feel Ectorius' misgiving. Might Merlin be mistaken?

By midday Ectorius' thin patience had worn through. He stormed silently around the camp, muttering under his breath. He respected Merlin enough not to insult him openly by insisting on going after the boys. But it was on his mind – and for all his great respect he would not wait another night.

Merlin pretended not to notice Ectorius' acute discomfort. He occupied himself walking the valley and gathering those herbs that could not be found further north.

Finally, as the sun disappeared behind the rim of mountains surrounding Eryri, Ectorius decided to take matters into his own hands. He ordered four of his men to saddle their horses, and made ready to begin the search.

'Think what you are doing,' Merlin told him equably.

'I have thought of nothing else all day!' Ectorius snapped.

'Let be, Ector. If you go after them now you will steal their glory; they will know you did not trust them to succeed.'

'What if their broken bodies lie bleeding in a crevice up there? They could be dying.'

'Then let them die like the men you hoped they would one day become!' Merlin replied. 'Ector,' he soothed, 'trust me just a little longer.'

'I have trusted you altogether too long!' Ectorius cried. As deep as his love, so deep was his pain. I believe he held himself to blame for his son's infirmity – the horse had been his own.

'If you cannot trust me, then trust the Good God. Patience, brother. You have borne your misgiving this long, bear it but a little longer.'

'It is a hard thing you are asking.'

'If they have not rejoined us by dawn, you need not lead the search, Ector; / will lead it.'

Ectorius shook his head and swore, but he accepted Merlin's reassurance and stalked off to rescind the orders to his men.

Dusk came on apace. I think night always comes first to the high places of the world. There were stars already winking in heaven's firmament, though the sky still held the day's light, when we sat down to our supper. The men talked loudly of hunting, trying to distract then- lord from his unhappy thoughts.

Merlin heard the shout first. In truth, I believe he had been listening for it most of the day and was beginning to wonder why he had not heard it.

He stood, holding out his hand for silence, his head cocked to one side. Neither I nor anyone else heard anything but the thin, trilling call of mountain larks, as they winged to their nests for the night.

Though I knew better than to doubt him, it seemed he was mistaken. The men grew restless.

'It was only – ' began Ectorius.

Merlin rose and held up a silencing hand. He stood rock still for a long moment and then turned towards the mountain. A slow smile spread across his face. 'Behold!' he said. 'The conquerors return!'