Pendragon

'Are they together in this?'

Bedegran shook his head. 'If they are I have not heard of it. But then, I had not heard about Madoc until now.' He paused. 'I am sorry about his son.'

'A hateful waste,' I mused, and it seemed that a young man's form instantly appeared before me, stretching out a hand as if beseeching aid. But it was not Madoc's son; this boy was younger-Arthur's age, no more. 'The son… the son… I had not considered the son…"

Bedegran raised his eyebrows. 'Merlin?'

'Does Morcant have a son?'

'He does," Bedegran replied. 'A young lad. I think his name is Cerdic. Yes, Cerdic. Why?'

Understanding broke over me. I knew what Madoc's herdsmen meant by collecting the blood debt. How stupid of me! Morcant was actively ridding himself of rivals, and making the path clear for his son. At least Arthur was safely out of sight in the north. I had been right to move him.

We talked of other matters then, and soon it was time for supper. Over meat, Bedegran asked, 'What will you do, Merlin Embries?'

'Whatever I can. For now, I mean to prevent war from devouring the south. Have I your pledge to keep the peace?'

'That you have, Merlin,' Bedegran answered, but added: 'If you can but keep Morcant and that snake, Dunaut, on their own lands all will be well.'

Later, when we were alone in our chamber, I told Pelleas, 'This is as bad as I feared. Fortunately, however, we have not come too late. This is for me alone, Pelleas. Who else can move with impunity from king to king? I stand between Britain and disaster.'

Oh, I was drunk with it! And I believed what I said – just as I believed that peace could be mediated between these yapping hounds who called themselves noblemen. I rested well that night, and the next day rode out full of confidence and high-minded intentions to save Britain from becoming enmired in a war which would benefit only the Saecsen in the end.

Madoc-sullen, frightened, and grief-stricken over the loss of his son – received us with as good a grace as he could command in the circumstances. He was in pain, and I hoped I might speak some consolation.

'Well?' he demanded, when the formalities of the greeting had been observed. 'What does the exalted Ambrosius of Britain require of this old man?'

Since he was prepared to be blunt, I answered him in kind. 'Do not allow Morcant to draw you into war.'

His chin came up sharply. 'Draw me into war? I have no intention of going to war with him, but if you think to talk me out of collecting the blood debt he owes me, save your breath. I mean to have satisfaction.'

'That is precisely what Morcant is counting on. He only waits for you to give him reason enough to strike openly.'

'What is that to you, great Ambrosius? Eh?' the ageing king growled. 'What makes this affair your concern?'

'The safety of Britain is the concern of all right-thinking men. I mean to do what I can to preserve the peace.'

'Then take yourself away to the Saecsen-brood!' he shouted. 'Go talk to them of peace. Leave me alone!'

There was no reasoning with him, so I departed, saying, 'You cannot win against Morcant; and Dunaut is likely with him in this. Do not think to make Bedegran your ally; I have spoken to him already, and he will not support you.'

'I need no help from anyone! Do you hear?'

Pelleas and I rode next to Dunaut, to tax him with his duplicity. Like Morcant, he proffered a cordial, if false, welcome. He sat in his big chair and smiled like a cream-stealing cat, but would answer none of my questions seriously. Finally, I lost all patience. 'Deny that you and Morcant are riding together,' I challenged. 'Deny that you are raising war against your neighbour kings.'

Shrewd Dunaut pursed his lips and appeared distracted. 'I do not understand you, Merlin,' he answered. 'We have these past years upheld your absurd trial. Even now, the Sword of Britain stands in the stone waiting to be claimed. Are you content with that? No! You attack us with accusations of war. You flit here and there raising suspicion and anger.' He paused, appearing hurt and distressed. 'Go back to your Glass Isle – go back to Celyddon, or wherever you abide. We do not need you here, meddler!'

Since I could get no more from him, I shook the dust from my feet and left the viper in his nest. Morcant and Dunaut were intent on war, that much was plain to me. Blind with ambition, and stupid with greed, they would conspire to Britain's fall.

God help us! It is ever the same with the small kings. As soon as the Saecsens give them breathing space, they begin hacking one another to pieces. The hopelessness of it!

'It grieves me, Pelleas. I am sick at heart,' I confessed to him once we were away. We rode on, turning the matter over in our minds.

'What of Tewdrig?' Pelleas wondered after a while. 'Surely he is more than a match for the likes of Morcant. Perhaps,' he suggested, 'you should let Tewdrig settle it for once and all.'

I considered this, but only for a moment. 'No, the cost is too great. We are not strong enough to war among ourselves and fend off the Saecsen as well.' That much was obvious to me; less evident was how to bring about peace and enforce it among those who did not desire it for themselves. 'We must make them understand, Pelleas.'

We spent the whole summer in a desperate attempt to make the petty lords of the south understand that warring among themselves weakened Britain and doomed us all. 'How long do you think the Saecsens will wait to seize the land you leave unprotected? How long do you think they will strive with the lords of the north when a weakened south beckons them?'

My questions, like my accusations, went unheeded and unanswered. I spoke words of truth and received lies in return. I persuaded and cajoled, threatened and charmed, pleaded, begged, coaxed and prodded. Morganwg snubbed me, Coledac grew haughty, and the others… Madoc, Ogrvan, Rhain, Owen Vinddu and all the rest feigned innocence or indifference and plotted treachery in their hearts. All my efforts came to nothing.

Exhausted in body and spirit, I turned at last to Ynys Avallach. It had been too long since I sojourned in that blessed realm. I ached to see Avallach and Charis again, and hoped to find solace and sympathy. In truth, I desperately needed a balm to heal my troubled spirit.

The Fisher King's palace remained unchanged as ever. The green mound of the tor rose above the quiet lake, its image reflected in the still waters. Apple trees graced the steep slopes, rising to the high, graceful walls. Peace and calm wreathed the isle like the mist upon the reed-fringed lake, and breathed an air of tranquillity soft as the light upon its shaded paths. Westering sun struck the soaring ramparts and towers, causing the pale stone to blush like fire-shot gold. The quality of this radiance suffused the very air so that it seemed to tingle on the skin – living light, transmuting all baser elements to finer, purer stuff.

Avallach, regal and dark, his beard curled and oiled, welcomed Pelleas and me gladly, and made much of us. Charis, Lady of the Lake, fairly glowed with love for me; her green eyes shone and her long golden hair gleamed as she led me, arm in arm, among the apple trees she tended with such care. We strolled the deep-shaded groves, or rowed the boat on the glassy lake in the evenings and went to our sleep with the song of nightingales on the night air.

Still and all, I ate and slept ill. I fretted. Even fishing in the lake below the tor with the Fisher King, I could not rest. Nor could I unburden myself to my mother. Charis, whose sympathy knew no restraint, comforted me as best she could. But I would not be comforted. In truth, it was not succour I needed, but a vision. And that I lacked.

I ask you, O Soul of Wisdom, tell me if you can: what remedy for the lack of a vision?

Day by day, my spirit grew colder. I felt as if I were freezing from the inside, as if my heart were hardening within me. I felt my very soul growing numb and heavy like a dead limb. Charis saw it. How could I hide it from the one who knew me better than any other?

One night, I sat at the table with my plate untouched before me, and listened to Charis explaining the work of the good brothers in the nearby abbey; there were, she told me, plans for a place of healing. 'It is only fitting,' she said. 'Taliesin saw the Summer Realm as a place where disease and infirmity were banished forever. And many come here seeking aid for their afflictions. The abbot has brought monks from Gaul and elsewhere – men who know much of healing and medicines.'