“But what could be in them? What do they—?” I stopped short, abashed by the awareness that the answer to those questions was not for me to demand. The documents were for Merlyn’s eyes only.
He did not react to my impertinence, however, but merely held the wallet now in both hands and raised it up in front of him, gazing at it. “I have glanced very briefly at some of them, Master Clothar, as you are aware, but I must confess I am eager to learn more. So, if you will pardon me, I will go now and make a start upon the task of reading them, for I think it might take me several hours to read through everything and absorb the meaning of it.” He stood up and started to bid me farewell with a nod of his head, but I stayed him with my own upraised hand.
He eyed me courteously, one brow slightly raised as he waited to hear whatever it was that I had to add, but although my lips were parted, nothing emerged from my mouth, for I answered each point in my own mind even before I could begin to articulate it, until eventually I felt my cheeks reddening with embarrassment.
“Forgive me, Lord Merlyn,” I said then. “I have half a hundred questions in my head, all of them demanding answers, but there are several that I find particularly distracting and frustrating.”
“And to those you would prefer more immediate and satisfying answers. I can understand that, knowing how long you have been in pursuit of me.” He eased himself back into his chair. “Tell me about these other considerations, then, and let me see what I can do to set you at your ease.”
I remained silent, nonplussed, searching for the correct response to his invitation and failing to find it. What was I concerned about? And then suddenly, two things crystallized in my mind and I knew where I must go in this. I cleared my throat again.
“I would like to speak to you, if I may, about your ward, Arthur, the new King. For two years now I have been looking forward to meeting him, anticipating the event of his coronation as Riothamus and savoring the opportunity to offer him my services and my support in his endeavors as High King. I have even persuaded my friends Perceval and Tristan to join me. So I was deeply angered to discover that, through no fault of my own, not only had I missed his crowning in Verulamium but I had also managed to be absent for the first important battle he fought as King—his first strike against the invading Danes led by Horsa, and in all probability a battle that could define the course of his reign.
“I know it was an important battle—how could I not know? It is the talk of the land. Everyone has been talking of little else since it took place. Believe me, Master Merlyn, we have heard about it from many people, but none of those from whom we heard of it was actually present at the event—not one of them. None of them saw the fight, none of them knew the truth of what occurred, and the information they passed on to us when the tidings were fresh and new was already polluted by ignorance and the boastful claims of empty-headed loudmouths.” I drew a deep breath, forcing down the anger that was always so close to welling up in me nowadays and compelling myself to remain calm, at least in my speaking.
“We heard reports of everything that went on ahead of us as we crossed from Cambria to here, Master Merlyn, and we could trust none of it to be free of distortion or bias. On the purely personal level, all I really know to be true is that great events have been unfolding far from my ken and that, despite a deep belief that Bishop Germanus sent me here precisely to be involved in these events and to stand with Arthur the King and his people, I have somehow managed to miss all of them—to the point of utter and unhappy ignorance.”
As I spoke, intensely aware of my own frustration yet unable to control a burgeoning sense of unwonted anger, Merlyn had turned his head toward the fire basket, and when I had finished, he sat silent for a while longer, his lips pouted in thought.
“It is easy to see why you are angry,” he said at length. “On the matter of the King’s coronation, there is little I can do to ease your disappointment. I know there are stories circulating concerning what went on at the high altar, and I know, too, that they seem incredible and undeserving of belief. But I can offer you a few hard facts that are indisputable, despite their appearance of being fantastical. Mere moments after the King’s corona had been set upon his brow at the high altar by Bishop Enos, and after swearing a mighty regal oath to use his armed might to defend God’s Church against all pagan and godless aggression, Arthur Pendragon drew a magnificent long-bladed sword from the altar itself—from the altar stone—in full view of thousands of people. I have seen the sword, and held it in my hands, and there has never been a weapon of such beauty and splendor ever seen before, in this land or any other. That is the truth, Master Clothar. These events occurred. I was there and saw them take place with my own eyes. And as the new King held this wondrous sword aloft for all to see, a beam of purest sunlight shone through a gap in the clouds above and outlined him in golden glory in an unmistakable demonstration of God’s own approval of his crowning and his sacred oath.
“Those events you missed, and their like will never occur again, and I regret deeply that, after all the troubles you have gone through, you were unable to witness them. I can assure you, however, that you may trust my version of what occurred that day, and you may also be assured that Arthur will be happy to accept your sword, your service, and your loyalty when the two of you eventually stand face-to-face. Lose no sleep over that one, Master Clothar. Arthur Pendragon has a mighty task ahead of him and he will require, and be grateful for, all the assistance, loyalty, and support he can find.
“As to the other matter, the King’s first battle, I can provide you with accurate information on what happened there. I have in my possession not only the reports of the battle but the plan of battle from the King himself, drawn by his own hand, and I will gladly share those with you at another time—perhaps even tomorrow, if Arthur does not return in the interim.”
This was the first indication I had received since my arrival that the King was not even in Camulod, and I asked Merlyn where he had gone.
“He is on circuit patrol. Traveling around the perimeter of the colony, checking each guard outpost and patrol garrison, then striking outward to visit our outlying garrisons in surrounding towns and communities.”
“The King does that in person?”
“Aye, and happily, of his own choosing. It enables him to meet and speak with his men as men, and he enjoys that.”
“Commander to trooper, you mean, rather than king to subject.”
“No, man to man, rather than superior to minion. It is important to him.”
“Important to his men, too, I’ll wager.” I was remembering Chulderic’s story of how King Ban and my father had met Germanus. “How long might he be gone?”
Merlyn shrugged. “Who can say? It all depends upon who and what he encounters on his patrol, but we generally allocate ten days for each sweep—that’s what we call our routine patrols—then add sufficient discretionary time for them to extend that by two days. After that, if we have not received word from them, we send out rescue squadrons.”
“Have you ever had a patrol that failed to return?”
“Aye, several, but very few overall, in a sixty-year period.”
“So you are not concerned about the King’s absence?”
“Concerned?” Merlyn laughed. “No, not at all. He is not absent, Master Clothar, he is on a sweep, of his own lands, and he has only been gone for ten days. We expect him to return at any moment—he could be entering the gateway as we speak—but even if he fails to appear today, he yet has two days before we will begin to grow concerned. And even then, we would need evidence of some kind to arouse our suspicions to the point of sending out a rescue mission. This is not some junior subaltern or local kinglet, Master Clothar. Arthur Pendragon is Riothamus of Britain and a battle commander of supreme abilities. He will not be bullied, nor will he be easily dissuaded from completing whatever tasks he sets himself before returning home to Camulod.”