Martyr's Fire (25 page)

Thomas remained on the stern platform all those hours until she appeared.

Her hair was now silver in the moonlight, her face a haunting mixture of shadows.

I cannot read her eyes. How do I dare trust her words?

“You know by now that a secret war rages,” she began without a
greeting. “Druids, who have chosen darkness and secrecy as the way to power, contend with the Immortals, who battle back in equal secrecy.” Thomas nodded.

“You and I were born to Immortal parents,” Katherine said. “But not even birth destines a child to be an Immortal. Some, in fact, live and grow old unaware of their parents’ mission.”

Thomas held up a hand to interrupt.

“Certainly I know of the Druids,” he said. “Their circle of evil is ancient. The Roman emperor Julius Caesar observed them more than twelve hundred years ago, when they still reigned openly in Britain.”

Katherine nodded. “Of course. You know that from your books in the cave. But of Immortals—”

“Of Immortals, I know nothing more than their name, as mentioned by my nurse, by Hawkwood, and by another I knew in Magnus. It is more than passing strange that once I heard the Immortals referenced to Merlin—the same name of King Arthur’s wise man and trusted counselor.”

“More than passing strange,” Katherine agreed. “King Arthur and his knights ruled some hundreds of years after the Roman conquerors had taken Britain and forced the Druids into hiding openly.”

“Hiding openly?”

“Openly. The safest way to hide. Blacksmiths, tanners, farmers, noblemen, knights, priests during the day. But at night …” Katherine’s voice trailed. “At night they would meet to continue their quest for power.”

She shivered although the night air was warm. “Frightening, is it not? Any man or woman you might meet in England—a dark sorcerer at night. And many strove for positions of power in open society, the better to influence the direction of their secret plans.”

Thomas spat disgust, but said nothing. He knew too well the treachery of Druids.

“Merlin?” he prompted her.

“Yes. Merlin. Eight hundred years ago. The brightest and best of the Druids.”

Thomas stood transfixed. The creaking of the ship, the passing of water, the clouds slipping past the moon—he was aware of none of it.

“Merlin was a Druid?” he asked.

“It explains much, does it not? His powers have become legendary. Some call him an enchanter. Equipped with the knowledge of a Druid—knowledge that is considerable and often seems magic to poor, ignorant peasants—he accomplished much through deception. And what better place for a Druid than at the right hand of Britain’s finest king?”

Thomas shook his head, trying to understand. “Yet he battled …”

“Yet Merlin battled the same Druids who raised him to such power. Merlin founded generations of the Druids’ greatest enemies, each person equipped with the knowledge of a Druid. In short, he turned their own powerful sword upon themselves.”

“Why?” Thomas asked softly. He let his mind drift back those eight hundred years to the court of King Arthur. Sir Galahad, Sir Lancelot, and the other Knights of the Round Table. And Merlin, the man who established that Round Table, at the right hand of Britain’s most powerful man. “Merlin had everything a man might desire. Why risk losing all by rejecting the same Druids who had given him that power?”

“It is legend among us,” Katherine said equally softly. “The Druids had waited generations for one of them to have the power in open society that Merlin did. With Merlin, finally, there was one to set into motion the plan that would let them conquer the entire kingdom, a plan so evil that its success would establish the Druids forever. Merlin was the one man able to ensure success. Until he became the one man to stop them. The legend is that a simple priest showed Merlin the power of faith in God by—”

“A bold plan to establish the Druids?” Thomas interrupted. “It failed with Merlin. Is it the plan they follow now that Magnus has been conquered?”

“Yes,” Katherine said quietly. “Merlin stopped them once. And established the Immortals. Us. And since then, we have fought them—generation by generation—at every turn. We have held them at bay. Until they finally discovered where we had hidden ourselves.”

“What is at the end of this evil plan?” Thomas asked.

Hesitation. Then Katherine said, “I do not know. He always promised to tell me. But he never had that chance.”

Does she lie? Or are her faltering words because of grief for the old man?

Thomas paced back and forth several times, then asked, “The Immortals also hide openly?”

“Yes.”

“And seek positions of power to counteract the influence of Druids?”

“Yes.” Katherine smiled. “Sometimes we reach fame through these efforts. And we reach far. Generations ago, Charles the Great, king of the Franks, sent for educated people from all over Christendom. He wanted his people to learn again, from books.”

Katherine paused, trying to recall the story. “The Druids had arranged to send one of their own there. What better way to spread evil in other countries? We intercepted the orders and replaced that Druid with a man named Alcuin. He rose quickly within the royal court of the Franks and did untold good, spreading knowledge and even introducing a new style of writing.”

She waved her hand. “There are others, of course, through the ages. We have all been taught the stories of our history.”

Thomas frowned. “How many of us are there?”

Katherine sighed. “Before Magnus fell twenty years ago, hundreds.
More than enough to keep the Druids from reaching their goal.”

“And now?”

“I … I … do not know. I have only the stories that taught me.”

She became quiet, as if the memory of the old man was too hard to bear.

Thomas sensed her sadness and tried to occupy her with other thoughts. “Hundreds? How could hundreds be taught in secrecy? That would take hundreds of teachers!”

“Not so,” Katherine replied, her voice not entirely free of sorrow. “Merlin devised a new method. He appointed his successor before he died. And each successor appointed another, so that Merlin’s command was passed directly from generation to generation of the Immortals. Each leader was the finest among us and selected teachers who, in each generation, shared knowledge with entire groups who sat together. One teacher had as many as thirty listeners.”

Thomas whistled appreciation. “ ’Tis wondrous strange. Yet seems so simple. Now it strikes me odd that this method is not followed elsewhere.”

Katherine nodded. “Merlin called it ‘school.’ ”

Thomas stumbled over the strange word. “School.”

Much now made sense.

Magnus. Isolated in the moors north of England, far from the intrigues and attention of reigning monarchs.

Magnus. With only moderate wealth, not a prize worth seeking.

Magnus. Insignificant, nearly invisible.

Magnus. The largest fortress in the north, a construction that must have cost a king’s ransom, far more than the land itself could earn even with the profit of centuries of income.

Magnus. Seemingly with nothing to protect.

Magnus. Riddled with secret passageways.

Thomas understood.

He stopped pacing abruptly and voiced his certainty to Katherine.

“Merlin established Magnus. Obscure and well protected, it has been the training ground for every generation that followed.”

“Yes,” she said. “Merlin chose Magnus and had the fortress built. He retired to the island in that remote land. From there, he taught the Immortals and sent them throughout the country to combat the Druids in hidden warfare. And Magnus served us well for hundreds of years. Even after the Druids finally discovered its location and purpose, it took generations for them to conquer it. I was not there when that happened, of course, but Hawkwood told me that their surprise attack and ruthless slaughter twenty years ago all but destroyed the Immortals. Only a few survived.”

She stopped, and in the dim light, Thomas could see she was trying to search his face.

“And Thomas,” she finally whispered, “shortly after his birth, a boy was chosen as Merlin’s successor of this generation to reconquer Magnus for us. That child … was
you
.”

Thomas stood and squarely faced her, with feet braced and arms crossed. It was the only way he could stop the trembling that threatened to overwhelm him.

I want so badly to believe her
.

“You weave a fanciful tale,” he said scornfully. “Yet if it were true, why was I not told of this?”

“But you were, in a way,” Katherine said softly. “Was it an accident you were hidden in that obscure abbey? Was it an accident that your mother, Sarah, gladly exiled herself there to raise and train you as thoroughly as if you had been raised in Magnus as son of the reigning earl?”

That startled Thomas into dropping his bluff of indifference.

“Sarah had been commanded to keep the truth from you. Your father, the ruler of Magnus, was the appointed leader of his generation of Immortals. It was too important that no one ever discover your real identity, and it was feared that as a child, you might blurt it aloud before the wrong ears.”

Thomas shook his head. “Sarah would have told me everything about Druids and Immortals, if it were so.”

Katherine disagreed, sadly. “No. As I once explained to you, many of the Immortals fell with Magnus. Hawkwood often told me you were our only hope, that should the Druids discover the only son of the last leader of the Immortals was still alive, they would leave no stone in England unturned in their search to have you murdered.”

Thomas raised his hands helplessly. “I should have been trusted. I stumbled in the darkness.” His voice became accusing. “Alone.”

Katherine put a finger to her own lips to silence his protests. “When Sarah died, you were too young to be trusted yet with that precious knowledge. And there was no one who could replace her at the abbey to instruct you more. Hawkwood often told me we could only trust that her training had been a magnificent seed, that you would learn more from the books left with you, and that you would always remember Magnus.”

Thomas shook his head again, more firmly. “Yet I ruled Magnus for three seasons. Neither you, nor Hawkwood, nor Gervaise revealed this to me then.”

Katherine moved to the edge of the ship and stared away. Thomas was forced to follow to be able to listen to her words before they were swallowed by the breeze.

“We could not,” she said, still staring at the moon. “For you had been alone at the abbey far too long. We could not know if the Druids had found you and claimed you as one of their own.”

“I conquered Magnus! I took it from them!”

Katherine sighed. “Yes. I argued that often with Hawkwood. He told me that we played a terrible game of chess against unseen masters. He told me they might have artfully arranged a simple deception, that the more it seemed you were against them, the more likely we might be to tell you the final truth, and in so doing lose this centuries-old battle in the quickest of heartbeats.”

Thomas pondered her words and spoke slowly. “What is the final truth?”

The constant splash of water against the side of the galley was his only reply.

“The final truth,” he demanded.

“Not even I was told.”

She lies. I can sense that, even with her face turned away from me. Yet I must pretend to believe
.

So Thomas said, “There is an undeniable logic in that. How could you ever believe that I was not a Druid, posing as one of you? So I was watched. By Gervaise, who posed as a simple old caretaker. And by you, in your disguise beneath the bandages.”

“I am relieved you understand.”

There is a simple flaw with this entire story. And it breaks my heart. Yet I cannot leave it lie
.

So Thomas spun her to face him and squeezed both her wrists without mercy.

“But explain,” he said fiercely, “why you finally tell me this now. And explain it well, for otherwise I believe nothing. Otherwise I shall cast you overboard.”

“No, Thomas,” she begged. “You must let go!”

His response was to pull her closer to the edge of the ship. She must believe this terrible bluff. “Speak now—,” Thomas began, but he had no chance to continue.

Her eyes widened and she called out, “No!”

But her cry was not directed at Thomas.

He heard a scuffling of feet and began to turn his head. Late, much too late. A familiar blackness crashed down upon him.