'I would that more British kings displayed such prudence,' observed Arthur.
In all, we spent a fine time with Fergus and his people. No doubt we might have stayed with them a goodly while, but as the days passed, Arthur began looking more and more across the sea towards Britain. I knew he was thinking of his Cymbrogi and the day of leaving was close at hand. One night as we sat at the hearth with our long flesh-forks in our hands, spearing tender morsels of savoury pork from the cauldron while the bards sang, Gwenhwyvar approached with a bundle in her arms. The bundle was wrapped in soft leather bound with cords. She held it as if it were a child, and I thought at first that it was.
'Husband,' she said, cradling the bundle, 'in respect of our marriage, I would bestow a gift.' She advanced to where he sat. Arthur lay aside his fork and stood, watching her intently, holding her with his eyes as he would clasp her in his arms.
Extending the leather bundle to him, Gwenhwyvar placed it in his hands and then proceeded to loose the bindings. Layer upon layer of leather fell away to reveal a vellum scroll. I had heard of such before; they had been common in the days when the Eagles ruled in Britain. But I had never before seen one.
Arthur regarded the object with bemused pleasure. So far was it from anything he might have expected, he did not know what to make of it. He looked to his wife for explanation and wisely held his tongue. Bedwyr and Cai exchanged bewildered glances, and Fergus beamed with magnanimous pride.
Taking the scroll, Gwenhwyvar carefully unrolled it. I could tell by the way she touched it – gently and with utmost reverence – that it was of immense age and priceless in her eyes. This intrigued me. What written there could be so valuable?
She spread the scroll before Arthur's eyes, and he bent his head over it. I watched his face intently, but his bewilderment did not abate – if anything, it increased. Indeed, the more he studied the scroll, the more perplexed he became.
Gwenhwyvar watched him with a wary, yet knowing air. Grey eyes alert, dark brows slightly arched, she was waiting for his reaction, and testing him by it. Was he worthy of this gift? She was thinking, was Arthur the man she took him to be? Was the gift of her life entrusted to one who could respect its value?
And Arthur, bless him, knew himself entangled in a decisive trial. He studied the scroll for a time, and then raising his head, smiled confidently and cried, 'Come here, Myrddin, and behold! See what my queen has given me!'
It was a canny remark. Gwenhwyvar was well pleased, for she heard in it what she wanted to hear. And Arthur, seeing her reaction to his words, beamed his pleasure, for he had extricated himself most shrewdly. Fergus smiled happily, knowing the treasure of his tribe had found a worthy protector. Only I was unhappy now, for Arthur had cleverly shifted the burden to my shoulders; it depended on me to appraise the gift and offer an opinion of its value.
I hesitated, curiosity and reluctance warring within me. I could decline Arthur's offer and force him to declare his ignorance. Or I could go to his aid. Arthur was waiting. Curiosity won over reluctance, and I rose and went to where Arthur and Gwenhwyvar held the scroll stretched between them.
They turned the scroll towards me. I looked at the pale vellum, expecting to see a picture rendered there, or words of one kind or another. There was a picture, yes, and words, too- but in all it was like nothing I had ever seen.
FOUR
I now appreciated Arthur's discomfort, and why he had called upon me as he did. I stared at the proffered scroll and the strange markings on it. I opened my mouth to speak, thought better of it, and studied the scroll once more.
There were several long columns of words scratched out in a language I did not know: neither Latin nor Greek, which I can, if pressed to it, make out. And there was a picture – not one only, but severaclass="underline" one large drawing flanked by three smaller ones. The drawings were almost as inscrutable as the words, for they showed a strange hive-shaped object resting on a short stack of thin disks and floating in a blue firmament – water perhaps. But it was not a boat, for there was an entrance, or at least a hole in the side which would let the water in. The smaller pictures showed the same object, or similar objects, from different views. The thing was without markings of any kind, so I could get no hint of its function.
I knew Gwenhwyvar was awaiting my appraisal. 'This is indeed remarkable! I perceive you have treasured it long in your clan.'
'The vellum scroll before you has been given hand to hand from the first days to this,' Gwenhwyvar explained. 'It is said that Brigid, queen of the Tuatha DeDannan, brought it to Eire.'
'That I can well believe,' I told her. 'And can you yet read the words written here?' I indicated the delicate tracery of symbols.
Gwenhwyvar's face fell slightly. 'Alas, I cannot. That art is long vanished from our kin – if indeed any ever possessed it,' she replied. 'It was my hope that you, Wise Emrys, might read them out for me.'
'I wish I could,' I told her. 'But I am unused to studying script, and would no doubt make a poor assessment.' Then with sudden inspiration I said: 'Still, it may be that the priest Ciaran knows this script and can tell us what it means. If you agree, we might take it to him tomorrow.'
'Your counsel is good,' replied Gwenhwyvar, 'but let Ciaran be summoned here. It is not right that our treasure should be carried through the realm as if it were a thing of little value.' Fergus agreed with his daughter, and dispatched a messenger at dawn to bring the priest to Muirbolc to view the scroll.
'What do you think it pictures, Myrddin?' wondered Arthur the next morning while we waited for the monk to arrive. We were sitting on the rocks above the shore. The day was bright and the sea calm as it washed back and forth over the rocky shore below.
'It would appear to be a dwelling of some kind,' I replied. 'More than that I cannot say.'
He fell silent, listening to the seabirds and feeling the sun's warm rays on his face. 'A man could grow to love it here,' he murmured after a while.
Cai and Bedwyr, who were beginning to look longingly towards home, approached then. They settled themselves on either side of us. 'We thought you were readying die ship,' Bedwyr said. 'We did not want you to forget us here.'
'Arthur was just saying he did not wish to leave at all,' I told them.
'Not return to Britain!' Cai exclaimed. 'Artos, have a care. If we must endure any more of their piping we will certainly go mad!'
'Peace, brother,' Arthur soothed. 'Myrddin is jesting. We leave tomorrow as planned. Even now the ship is being readied.' He opened his eyes and pointed down the beach a short distance to where our boat was drawn up. Several of Fergus' men, and our own pilot, were shaking out the sails.
'We came to tell you that Ciaran has arrived,' Bedwyr informed us. 'Fergus is waiting for you and Myrddin to join them.'
Arthur jumped to his feet. 'Then let us attend him. I am determined to solve at least one riddle before I leave this place.'
Ciaran greeted us happily. 'You will have good weather for tomorrow's sailing,' he told us. 'I will come to see you away.’
‘Oh, do not talk of leaving,' Fergus cried. 'It is my heart you are taking from me when you go.'
'Your place is assured with me,' Arthur told him. 'Come visit us when you will."
Gwenhwyvar approached with the scroll and proceeded to unwrap it. The priest was eager to see it, and pronounced it a prize beyond price. 'I have seen such before,' he said, bending his head over the close-worked script. 'When I was pupil to the sainted Thomas of Narbonne, I attended him on a journey to Constantinople. The priests of that great city preserve the world's wisdom on scrolls of this kind. It is said that the oldest come from Great Alexandria and Carthage.'