Merlin

No one took notice of me, so I drifted out into the yard and sat down on the ledge of the well and dipped out a drink from a leather cannikin. The water was ice cold and sweet and, as I drank, I thought of the journey before me that day and found the prospect a good deal less agreeable than it had been the day before.

The dipper was still at my lips when I felt cold fingers on my neck. I hunched my shoulders and squirmed round. Ganieda laughed and slipped from my reach. 'You must have been very tired,' she said, 'to stay so long abed – and you a traveller in a hurry.'

'You are right, Ganieda.' I liked the feel of her name on my tongue. She was wearing her blue tunic and kilt of the day before, but had donned a long, fleece-lined cloak against the morning chill. The silver at her throat and wrists gleamed, and her black hair had been brushed so that it shone. 'I slept well for the first time in many days, and as a consequence I have slept too long.'

'Obviously, you are exhausted,' she volunteered matter-of-factly. 'In which case, you cannot possibly leave today. Leave tomorrow when you are better rested. That makes much better sense.' She stepped shyly forward, although there was nothing at all shy about her. 'I have been thinking,' she said seriously – not too seriously, mind you, for solemnity was no great pan of her nature either. 'What lovely eyes! Your eyes, Myrddin – '

'Yes?' I could feel the colour rising to my cheeks.

They are gold – wolfs eyes, hawk's eyes… I have never seen eyes like this in a human being.'

'You flatter me, lady,' I replied stiffly. Was this what she had been thinking?

She settled herself on the stone ledge beside me. 'Is it far where you are going?'

'Far enough.' I nodded slowly.

'How far?'

'As far as may be.'

'Oh.' She fell silent, chin in her hand, elbow resting on her knee.

'Would it make a difference if it were not so far?'

Ganieda shrugged. 'Perhaps… somehow.'

I laughed. 'Ganieda, tell me what is in your mind. What have you been thinking? I tarry with you here while I should be saddling my horse and bidding Celyddon farewell.' The last word caught in my throat. Ganieda winced.

'You do not know your way through the forest. You need someone to show you.'

'I found my way thus far without a guide. I found you without a guide.'

'Blind luck,' she answered gravely. 'My father says that it is dangerous to trust in luck too much.'

'I agree.'

'Good. Then you will stay?'

'As much as I would like to, I cannot.'

Her face clouded and I swear the sunlight dimmed. 'Why not?'

'I do have a long way to go,' I explained. 'Winter is fast approaching and the weather will not hold. If I do not wish to find my death frozen on a high mountain track somewhere, I must move along quickly.'

'Is it so important – your going home?' she asked glumly.

'It is.'

And I began to tell her how it was that I came to be journey -ing through the forest.

Ganieda was fascinated. I told her much more than I intended, and would have gone on speaking just to have her remain beside me listening. But as I was explaining the way the Hill Folk moved with the seasons, a horse came pounding up the slope of the mound towards us.

Ganieda leapt to her feet and ran to meet the rider, who swung down from the saddle to kiss her. I stood slowly, disappointment scooping me hollow like a gourd, envy twisting like a knife in my gut.

The stranger had his hand loosely round her shoulder as they came towards me. Ganieda's smile was as luminous as the love between them. I was sick with jealousy.

'Myrddin, my friend,' she said as they came up – at least I was acknowledged as a friend, which seemed to indicate some slight improvement in my status – 'I want you to greet my… '

I regarded the weasel who had stolen Ganieda's affection. He was not much to look at – a big, overgrown youth who gazed out at the world through large, unconcerned eyes the colour of hazel wands, his long legs terminating in great flat feet. Taken altogether, he was a pleasant-enough fellow, and not more than four or five years above my age, I judged.

Still, though he had height, weight, and reach on me, I would have fought him willingly and without hesitation if Ganieda had been the prize. But the contest was over and he had won her; there was nothing I could do but smile stupidly and gnaw my heart with envy.

These thoughts went through my head as Ganieda finished, saying,'… my brother, Gwendolau.'

Her brother! I could have kissed him.

What a handsome, intelligent fellow. O, happy world with such men hi it! Instantly, he improved enormously in my estimation and I gripped his arms in the old greeting. 'Gwendolau, I greet you as brother and friend.'

He grinned sunnily. 'I am your servant, Myrddin Wylt.' He laughed and flicked the edge of my wolfskin cloak with a finger.

Merlin the Wild… his joking title made my flesh crawl. I heard in it the echo of something sinister and dark. The eerie feeling passed like an arrow through a nightdark wood, as he clapped me on the back.

Ganieda explained, 'Myrddin is travelling south soon. His people are there. He has been living with the bhean sidhe in the north… '

'Really?' Gwendolau appraised me curiously. 'That explains the wolfskins at least. But how did you manage to survive?'

'My God was with me,' I offered. 'I was treated well.'

Gwendolau accepted this with a good-natured nod; then, dismissing the subject, glanced at his sister. 'Is father here?'

'He rode out early this morning, saying he would return before sunset. You are to wait for him.'

'Ahh!' He looked distracted, then shrugged. 'Well, it cannot be helped. At least I can rest until he returns. Myrddin, I give you good day. I am for my bed.' He returned his horse and led the hard-ridden animal across the yard to the stable.

'He has ridden far?' I asked.

'Yes. There is trouble on the western border of our land. Gwendolau has been warning the settlements round about.'

'What kind of trouble?'

'Indeed, is there more than one kind of trouble?'

'It is late in the year for raiding.'

'Not for the Scotti. They come across the narrows – it takes less than a day – and they row their leather boats up the Annan right into the very forest. Besides, it makes more sense to raid in autumn when all the harvests have been gathered in.'

Her words pulled me back into the world of swords and sharp conflict. I shivered at the thought of hot blood on cold iron. I looked down to the lake, mirroring blue heaven in its depths, and there I saw the image of a mighty man wearing a steel war helm and breastplate, his throat a black wound.

I recognized the man and shivered again.

'If you are cold we might go in to the fire.'

'No, Ganieda, I am not cold.' I shook my head to purge the disturbing image. 'If you will walk with me to the stable, I will leave now.'

She frowned and at that moment a raindrop splattered her cheek. She held out her hand and another drop splashed into her palm. 'It is raining,' she observed triumphantly. 'You cannot ride in the rain. Also, we will roast the boar tonight, and as you helped bring it back, you must help eat it.'

In truth, there was but a single dark cloud overhead, but the thought of the cold, wet road ahead appealed little just then. I did not want to leave, so I allowed myself to be persuaded to stay. Ganieda tugged me back into the hall to break fast on stewed meat, turnips and oatcakes..