There can be few more beautiful sights in this worlds-realm than the palace of the Fisher King by golden dawnlight. The slender towers and graceful walls of white stone – all rose-and-honey-coloured in the morning light – made a richly glowing reflection in the lake that surrounded the tor with Ynys Avallach rising above the flat marshland like an island from a blue-green sea.
Years had passed since I last saw it – several lifetimes, it seemed. Even so, it remained as I recalled from earliest memory, and my heart swelled with a sudden yearning. Avallach's palace had ever been a haven to me, and I felt its old tranquillity beckoning, like a cool breeze over the shaded depths of the lake's many-shadowed pools, soothing the traveller's heat-fevered brow.
Oh, Blessed Jesu, keep this place close to your loving heart, and hold it in the palm of your Swift Sure Hand. If goodness anywhere endures in this worlds-realm, let it reign here, now, and for as long as your name is honoured among men.
I made my way around the lake, passing beneath the hill where stood the abbey, and reached the causeway leading out across the water to the tor. Ynys Avallach, green as an emerald against the sun-fired sky, seemed some otherworldly place – an impression only deepened upon meeting those who dwelt there. Fair Folk indeed, graceful in every line, enchanting to look upon – even the lowest stablehand possesses a bearing of high nobility. Two young grooms dashed forward, running to take my horse. Avallach, last monarch of that dwindling race, appeared and called a greeting as I passed under the high-vaulted arch.
'Merlin!' His voice resounded like glad thunder. Before I had properly dismounted, he drew me from the saddle and gathered me in his strong embrace. 'Merlin, my son, my son. Stand here. Let me look at you.' He held me at arm's length, then seized me once more and crushed me to him.
Arthur – big as he is – is but a boy beside the Fisher King. I felt a stripling youth again.
'The peace of Christ be upon you, Merlin, my son,' Avallach said, spreading wide his arms. 'Welcome! Come into my hall – we will raise the cup together.'
Leaving the stone-flagged yard, we crossed a roofed portico and passed through two great doors into the palace. 'Charis is not here at present,' the Fisher King informed me as the welcome cup arrived. 'One of the priests summoned her this morning. They fetch her whenever she is needed at the shrine.'
'Did they say why?' I asked with sinking heart, praying it was not what I feared. Could plague spread so quickly? I did not know.
'Sickness,' Avallach replied, holding out the cup. When the cup was filled, the Fisher King pressed it into my hands. 'Drink, Merlin. You have travelled far, and the journey was hot. The villagers say there is drought.'
I smiled. Avallach called any and all who lived in the shadow of the tor 'villagers' – as if he were a lord with thriving settlements full of loyal subjects. In truth, though a few folk still lived in holdings scattered around the marshes, most who passed through the Summerlands were pilgrims in search of a blessing at the shrine.
'Then I will find her at the abbey,' I said, and sipped some of the good, rich beer before passing the cup to Avallach.
'So I imagine,' he said, raising the cup, watching me over the rim. He paused, cocking his head to one side as he studied me. 'Christ have mercy!' he cried all at once. 'Merlin, you can see!'
'Truly, Grandfather.'
He gazed at me as if at a marvel. 'But – but how did this happen? Your sight restored! Tell me! Tell me at once.'
'There is little enough to say,' I replied. 'I was blind, as you well know. But a priest named Ciaran laid hands on me and it pleased God to heal me.'
'A miracle,' breathed Avallach, as if this were the most natural explanation – as if miracles were splendidly commonplace, as frequent as the sun rising in the east each day, as wonderful and as welcome. Indeed, in his world, perhaps they were.
Talk passed then to the small happenings of the marshland: fishing, the work at the shrine and abbey, the toil of the monks and the ever-widening circle of faith. I marvelled, not for the first time, how little the trauma and turmoil of the day mattered in this place. Events of great moment in the wider world were either unknown here or passed as incidents of small consequence. The palace of the Fisher King, like its tor, stood aloof from the ravages and upheaval of the age, a true haven, a sanctuary of peace in a trouble-fretted world. Great Light, let it ever be so!
I would gladly have conversed with him all day, but the need pressed in me once more. Promising to return as soon as possible, I took leave of Avallach and walked to the abbey, glad to be out of the saddle. As I climbed the path from the lakeside, some of the brothers saw me and ran ahead to announce my arrival. I was met and conducted to Abbot Elfodd's chamber.
SIX
'Wait here, please,' the monk said. 'The abbot will join you as soon as he is free.'
'Thank you, but -'
The monk was gone before I could stop him. I thought to call him back, but fatigue overwhelmed me and instead I sat down in the abbot's chair to wait. I had just closed my eyes when I heard the sound of footsteps outside the door.
'Merlin!'
I opened my eyes, stood, and was instantly enfolded in a strong, almost fierce embrace.
'Your eyes… your beautiful eyes,' Chads whispered, tears of happiness spilling freely down her cheeks. 'It is true! Jesu be praised, you can see! But how did this happen? Sit down at once, and tell me. I must know. Oh, Merlin, I am glad you are here. What a delightful surprise. Can you stay? No, do not tell me; whether short or long, it makes no difference. You are here now and that is all that matters.'
'I have missed you, Mother,' I murmured. 'I did not know how much I had missed you until this moment.'
'How I have longed for you, my Hawk,' Charis said, drawing me to her again. 'And now here you are – a prayer answered.'
Charis was, as ever, unchanged – save in small ways only: her hair she wore in the manner of highborn British women, thickly plaited with strands of golden thread woven into the braids; her mantle was dove-grey, simple, long, and utterly lacking any ornament. Slender, regal, she appeared both elegant and mysterious, the stark austerity of her garments enhancing rather than diminishing her royal mien. Her eyes, as they played over my face, were as keen as any inquisitive child's, and held a strength of authority I had not known before.
She saw that I had noticed the change in her attire, and said, 'Your eye is more than keen, Hawk, to see what is no longer there.' She smoothed her mantle with her hands and smiled. 'Yes, I dress more humbly now. Many of the people who come to the shrine have so little; they possess nothing – less than nothing, some of them – I do not wish to remind them of their poverty. I could not bear to offend them even by my clothing.'
'He would be a miserable man indeed who found the sight of you offensive,' I replied lightly.
She smiled again. 'And why your own drab cloak, my son? I cannot find it fitting to your rank that you array yourself so.'
I spread my hands. 'Like you, I find it easier to pass through the world without proclaiming my lineage at every turn. Come, you are tired -'
'I was," she replied quickly, 'but the sight of you has revived me completely. Sit with me. I would hear you tell me all that has passed in Arthur's court since I last saw you.'
'And I would enjoy nothing more than to spend the day with you,' I replied, 'for there is much to tell. But my errand is urgent and I cannot stay one moment longer than necessary. I am sorry. I must return as soon as -'
'Leaving before you have properly arrived!' Both Chads and I turned as the abbot bustled into the room. Elfodd, in his white mantle and green tunic, greeted me warmly. 'Welcome, Merlinus! Welcome, good friend. They just told me you had come. Sit, man, you look exhausted.'