I had little part in the preparations. My place was with Arthur in council, and I readied myself in the best way I knew to receive the southern noblemen: I prayed. Arthur thought the warbands would rise to his call; but I knew it would take more than a polite request to move British kings to pursue a war on Irish soil.
This, of course, I tried telling Arthur, but he would not hear it. 'And I tell you, Myrddin, it is either fight the Boar on Irish soil, or fight him here. Blood will be spilled either way, I do not deny it; we can at least save the destruction of our lands.'
'I do believe you. However, the Lords of Britain will want a better reason,' I insisted, 'to fight shoulder to shoulder with those who have dealt them so much heartache through the years.'
'That is past and forgotten.'
'We are an unforgiving race, Arthur,' I continued. 'We have long memories. Or have you forgotten?'
He did not smile at my meagre jest. 'They will listen to me,' he maintained. His confidence brooked no opposition.
'They will listen, yes. They will sit down and discuss the matter until the cock crows, but will they act? Will they raise so much as an eyebrow to aid you in what every last one of them will regard as a quarrel between barbarians? Indeed, most of them will think it divine punishment on the Irish for their thieving and warring ways.'
It was clear that Arthur would not hear it, so I stopped telling him. I took my leave and left him to his plans. Stepping from the hall, I nearly collided with Rhys, Arthur's steward, hurrying away on some errand or other. 'Ah, Rhys! There you are. I have been looking for you.'
'I give you good greeting, Emrys,' he replied quickly, and asked: 'Is it true we are joining the Irish in a boar hunt?'
'Yes,' I answered, and told him the boar we were hunting was human. Then I asked, 'Where is Bors?'
'A message came two days ago from Ban,' Rhys explained. 'Bors was summoned home.'
'Trouble?'
'I think so. But Bors did not say what it was. He only said he would return as soon as he had seen to his brother's affairs.'
'Have you told Arthur this?'
'No,' he answered. 'I have been running since you arrived, and-'
'Well, tell him now.' Rhys looked past me into the hall. 'Yes, at once. We will talk again later.'
When he had gone, I slung my harp upon my back and walked out from the caer and down to the little Taff river to find a shady place to sit and think.
In the shaded valley, down among the green rushes, I sat myself upon a moss-covered rock and listened to the water ripple as it slid along the deep-cut banks. Bees and flies droned on the lifeless air and water bugs spun in small circles on the slow-moving water. There with the ancient elements of darkness, earth, and water, I cast my net of thought wide. 'Come to me!' I whispered to the air. 'Come to Myrddin. Illumine me… illumine me.'
I sat bent over the polished curve of my harp as if I might pluck the knowledge I sought from the song-laden strings with my fingertips. But though the harp gave forth its quicksilver melody, I was not enlightened. After a while, I put the harp aside and took up my staff instead.
It was, I reflected, a venerable length of rowan, the stout wood smoothed with use. Bedwyr had made it for me following my ordeal with Morgian. The thought brought a fleeting twinge of fear-like the shadow of a circling crow touching my face.
I pushed the hateful memory from me, however, and gradually felt the peace of the valley, like its deep, still warmth, enfold me. I fell into a waking sleep, a reverie, and I began to dream. I saw the mountains of Celyddon, dark-clothed in their sharp-scented pines, and beyond them the barren, windy heathlands of the Little Dark Ones, the Hill Folk. I saw the members of my adopted family, the Hawk Fhain. I saw Gern-y-fhain, the Wise Woman of tie hills, my second mother, who taught me the use of powers even druids have forgotten – if they ever knew.
Thinking on these things, I let my mind wander where it would. I heard the riversound, the gentle ripple of water lapping, and the dry twitch of grass where a mouse or bird passed. I heard the click of a moorhen, and the sawing buzz of a fly. These sounds faded away slowly, replaced by the rasping hiss of a whisper, broken by time and distance, but gradually growing stronger. Words began to form…
Dead?… Dead…But what do you mean? How can it be?… No! No! The anguished voice faded away in a stifled scream and was replaced by another: I am burning… I cannot see… Lie down, Garr. I will help you. Do not try to stand… I heard a child's voice crying: Wake up, Nanna. Wake up! The small voice dissolved into sobs, and was mingled with other cries which grew into such a wailing and shrieking that I felt their distress as a keening lament. My soul writhed in sympathy; tears came to my eyes. And yet, no hint of what was happening, or where.
Great Light, comforter of all who mourn and are heavy-laden, sustain those who need your strength in the day of their travail. This, for the sake of your Blessed Son. So be it!
I prayed and remained silent for a time. But the voices did not return, and I knew they would not now come again. I had some times heard voices in the past; and now, as then, it did not occur to me to doubt their veracity. That I should hear them did not surprise me; it merely confirmed once again the capricious blessing of the awen.
Thrice blessed is the Emrys of Britain! It is the blessing of my mother's race to make me long-lived, just as it was the blessing of my father, singing the very life into my soul, which awakened the awen. The blessing of Jesu called me forth to serve in this worlds-realm.
Oh, but I am a wickedly slothful servant, dim-sighted and slow of understanding, preferring my warm dark ignorance to wisdom's cold light. When men speak of Myrddin Emrys in years to come – if they should remember me at all – it will be as a blind beggar, the fool in the courts of kings, the simpleton whose ignorance was exceeded only by his pride. I am not worthy of the gifts I have been given, and I am not equal to the tasks those gifts beget.
High King of Heaven, forgive me. There is no truth but it is illumined by you, Great Light. Though I see, I am a blind man still. Lord Christ, have mercy on me.
So the river ran, and so ran my thoughts. The mind of man is a curious thing. Seeking knowledge, I was confronted with my own ignorance; I could but admit my poverty and embrace mercy instead.
The first of the summoned lords had arrived with his warband by the time I returned to the caer. Ulfias, whose lands were nearest, was with Arthur in the hall. They sat at table together, with Cai, Bedwyr and Cador attending. Ulfias, looking grim and uncertain, lifted his head as I entered, but did not rise. Arthur glanced up, grateful for my arrival. 'Ah, Myrddin, good. I thought to send the hounds after you.' He turned to Rhys, hovering nearby. ‘Fill the cup.' As Rhys produced a jar, Arthur continued, 'I have been telling Ulfias about the Vandali invading Ierne.'
Having taken the measure of Ulfias, I looked the wavering lord in the eye and demanded, 'Well then, will you support your king?'
The young lord swallowed hard. 'It is a very difficult thing, to be sure,' he muttered. 'I would like to hear what the other lords say.'
'Cannot you determine your own mind?'
My question shamed him. He actually winced. 'Lord Emrys,' he said in a disconcerted tone, 'is it not to be decided in council? What the council agrees to do, that will I do. You have my pledge.'
'A pledge is but a paltry thing,' I scoffed. 'And if the council decides to bare its bottom and sit on the dung heap? Will you do that as well?'