I rose, threw my cloak over my shoulder and went down, slipping through the silent house, and across the wet yard to the church. I pushed open the door and entered. A number of monks were kneeling before the altar and I started towards them.
'Merlinus!' The whisper echoed in the room. Several of the monks turned round to look at me. I stopped and Urbanus hurried forward, his sandals slapping the stones at his feet. 'I did not think to find you here. I was about to send for you."
I heard the note of strain in his voice. 'I am here. What is it?'
'It is Dafyd,' he said. 'Come with me; I will take you to him.'
Urbanus led me out across the inner court to the cells. Monks had gathered outside one of the doors. They parted when we came up, and Urbanus ushered me into the room. Dafyd lay on a pallet of fresh straw in a room illumined by a candle tree brought from the altar. He smiled as I came in and lifted a hand in greeting. Gwythelyn was with him, kneeling beside him, praying; he turned to me and I understood from his grave expression that Dafyd was dying.
'Ah, Myrddin, you have come. That is good. I hoped to see you here.'
I sank down beside Gwythelyn, my heart a bruise in my chest. 'Dafyd, I – 'I began and faltered. Where were the words?
'Shhh,' Dafyd hushed me. 'It was in my mind to thank you.'
'Thank me?' I shook my head.
'For letting me see the future, lad.' We were once again master and pupil in his mind, ending as we had begun. 'I had a dream last night, wondrous and terrible: I saw Aurelius striving mightily against a black and raging storm. He was beaten down and his cloak torn in rags from his shoulders. But, when it seemed that he must be ground into the dust, his hand closed upon a sword. He grasped it and it was his strength. Up he rose, holding the sword before him. Oh, the lightning flashed and the thunder rent the heavens. But Aurelius – I knew him for I saw his golden tore shining at his throat – raised his great sword and would not be moved.'
'Truly, it is a dream of great significance,' I told him, taking his hand.
'Oh, aye!' Dafyd's eyes shone with the wonder of it. He bore no pain, and rested comfortably. But I could feel his life slipping away from him. 'It was a fine kingmaking, was it not? I would not like to have missed it.'
'Rest you now,' urged Gwythelyn, fingering a small wooden cross.
'Son,' Dafyd replied lightly, 'I have rested, and soon must begin my journey hence. Have no fear for me, neither grieve. For I go to join my Lord and take my place in his retinue. Look! Here is Michael himself come to escort me!' He pointed towards the door. I saw no one, but did not doubt him. His face shone with the light of his vision.
Tears started into my eyes; I raised his hand to my lips and kissed it. 'Farewell, Dafyd, most noble friend. Greet Ganieda for me, and Taliesin.'
'That I will do,' he replied, his voice a whisper between his teeth. 'Farewell, Myrddin Bach. Farewell, Gwythelyn.' He raised an admonitory hand to us, saying, 'Grow strong in faith, and mighty in love, my friends. Be bold in goodness, for the angels stand ready to aid you. Farewell… '
The smile lingered on his face, even as his spirit departed. He died as he had lived: peacefully, gently, lovingly.
My heart split in two and I cried – not for grief, but because a great soul had gone out of the world and men would know it no more.
Gwythelyn bent his head and prayed quietly, then took Dafyd's hands and folded them upon his still breast. 'I will take him home now,' he said. 'He wished to be buried beside his church.'
"That would be best,' I replied.
'You bear no blame in this, Myrddin,' Gwythelyn said unexpectedly. I looked up. 'It was his desire to come here. He told me last night that crowning Aurelius was one of the chief acts of his life. He was glad you asked him to do it.'
I gazed at Dafyd's face, which seemed now to have taken on something of its former youthful appearance. And I remembered when he had held the crown above my head. There were few alive who would remember that, except perhaps as a tale told by a grandfather to his grandchildren. But, remembering, I bent and kissed Dafyd's cheek.
'Farewell, good friend,' I murmured, then rose abruptly and left – not for lack of feeling or respect – but because Dafyd had gone, and I had seen him on his way. And now I must be about this world's affairs, if I was to salvage anything from the ruin of last night.
ELEVEN
Tell me what I could have done? You who see all things so clearly, tell me now, I invite you: give me your infallible counsel. You who cover yourselves in everlasting ignorance and display it like a priceless cloak, who embrace blindness and count it a virtue, whose hearts quail with fear and call it prudence, I ask you plainly: what would you have done?
Great Light, deliver me from the venom of small-souled men!
The Enemy is subtlety itself, keen, vigilant, tireless, and infinite in resource. Ah, but evil ever overreaches itself, and very great evil overreaches itself greatly. And Lord Jesu, High King of Heaven, bends all purposes to his own, labouring through all things to turn all ends to the One. That is worth remembering.
But in the thin grey light of that cheerless morning, I despaired. The small kings would soon hear of the rift between the brothers. There are always those who will seize even the most unlikely weapons and use them most effectively. And some of the lords needed little enough encouragement. They would use Ygerna as a wedge between Aurelius and Uther, to divide them. Once divided, they would rebel against Aurelius and advance Uther – only to throw off Uther as soon as Aurelius was put down.
Then the kingdom would split once more into a wild scattering of fractious, warring, self-obsessed clans and kingdoms. And the Island of the Mighty would go down into the dark.
Well, Aurelius loved Ygerna and would have her. Knowing nothing of Uther's love, he wooed her with passion. Gorlas approved, indeed he encouraged the match, doing all he might to further it. To have his daughter, treasure that she was, married to the High King increased his own status immeasurably. In any event, Gorlas would never have assented to Uther.
And Uther, too stubborn to utter a word of his desire to his brother, and too proud to press his claim, endured his agony in bitter silence.
So, recognizing the hopelessness of Uther's position, I supported Aurelius. Uther resented this, but would say nothing directly. He loved Ygerna, but he loved his brother more. Bound by three strong coils – duty, honour, and blood – he was forced to stand by and watch his brother steal the light from his life.
Naturally, no one thought to ask Ygerna her thoughts on the matter. She would obey her father in any event, and it was abundantly clear where Gorlas' sentiments lay. Once he saw his opportunity, he wasted not a moment in arranging the marriage.
Accordingly, Aurelius and Ygerna were betrothed and planned the celebration of their union at the Feast of Pentecost.
I will not tell of their wedding; you can hear that tale from any of the itinerant harpers wandering the land, much embroidered and exalted, to be sure. But that is how men wish to remember it.
In truth, Aurelius very nearly was not married at all. He was busy in the months following his crowntaking: organizing the kingdom's defences; building and rebuilding in Londinium and Eboracum and elsewhere; creating churches where there was need. In all, binding his lords to his kingship in a hundred different ways.
To lead the new churches, he made new bishops – and one to replace Dafyd at Llandaff; he chose Gwythelyn for that, and rightly. The others were Dubricius at Caer Legionis, and Samson at Eboracum. Good and holy men each one.