Merlin's Nightmare (The Merlin Spiral) (9 page)

Merlin tweaked his nose. “You remembered!”

Tinga stuck her thumb into the oatmeal and tasted it. “But what if they ’tack ya? Can ya bonk ’em with tha harp?”

Merlin shook his head and smiled at her.

When the meal was ready, Merlin found his place at the hearth between Natalenya and Tingada, across from Taliesin, and once again celebrated his short time with them. When the dish of cabbage and kale was finished off, the biscuits buttered, dipped in honey, and eaten with the savory oatmeal, Merlin sat back and sighed.

Natalenya took his hand and kissed it. “Don’t leave. Please.”

“Artorius is going. I need to be there.”

“I know. I just wish — ”

He leaned over and hugged her. “No more words. I wish it too.”

Merlin swung up onto his horse and had a stable hand pass him the leather-wrapped harp. Slinging it onto his back, he nodded to Peredur and they rode off to join the muster. Arthur, Culann, and Dwin had preceded them; their horses were missing from their stalls.

“It’s a big day, this,” Peredur said. “Sixteen years o’ training, and soon we’ll get to see ’im fight.”

“If we can keep up with him,” Merlin said, urging his horse northward across the valley to the large gathering of mounted men. Spotting his uncle’s pennant waving in the wind, he weaved through the groups of warriors spread out over the green.

As Merlin approached, he admired Ector’s highly polished scale armor. It covered him from chest to mid-thigh and was topped with a light-blue cloak thrown over his shoulder and a broad leather belt from which hung his great sword.

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind,” Ector said, adjusting his helm.

“About what?”

“Artorius. Who do you think?”

“He’s here.”

“Haven’t seen him, and the scouts haven’t either.”

“He’s here. His horse isn’t in the stable.”

“Check for yourself. There’s still time while we wait for the tenders to bring the extra mounts from the far valley.” Ector turned away to address one of his men.

Merlin looked to Peredur, who raised an eyebrow. They parted, going in opposite directions. As Merlin trotted amongst the men, he saw villagers he knew, hardy men who lived off the land and helped raise the horses — valiant men who were now sallying forth to danger and battle in support of their chieftain and king.

But no Arthur.

Merlin rode his horse into the center, where the men were pressed tightest.

“Has anyone seen Artorius?” he asked, but was met with thoughtful stares and shaking heads.

Peredur met him on the other side and shook his head as well.

Merlin began to truly worry.

“Where could they have gone?”

Peredur bit his lip. “Let’s talk wi’ the stable hands.”

And so back they went to the massive stone-and-thatch structure that was the main stable for the valley, situated next to his uncle’s feasting hall. The place was almost deserted, with only a few broodmares eating hay at the far end.

“Anyone here?” Merlin called.

A tired-looking boy popped out from a stall with an oaken shovel. “Me’s here, Lord Ambrosius.”

“Have you seen Artorius anywhere? He — ”

“Not seen ’im here at all, an’ I been gettin’ the horses saddled since ’afore sunup.”

“Not at all?”

“Nah, nah, but tha’ knows his horse, Casva? He was gone early, along with twa others. I remember because it made less work fer mah. That horse is a bit too high-spirited, I say, and makes the work o’ a mucker that muckle harder.”

“But when did they leave?”

“A lang time ago, as tha’ already knows.”

Peredur backed his horse out the door. “Could they have decided to get a head start?”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Wait, what’s this — ” Peredur reached down and ripped a parchment off of the timber that supported the doorway. After reading for a moment, he handed it to Merlin.

Merlin took it, and as he read the words, his hands began to shake.

It was the parchment from that flouncing louse of an envoy. The man who wanted everyone to muster at Glevum in support of Vortigern and southern Britain’s defense against the Saxenow invasion.

Peredur edged his horse up to Merlin’s. “Do ya think?”

“I’m certain.”

“No — !”

“Artorius was confused when he asked if he could go. He thought there was only one muster, and now I know why. The boys must have
left early for the adventure of getting ahead, and now they have half a day’s head start.”

“He’s headed south?”

“Yes. Right to Vortigern, the man who killed his father.”

After talking with old Brice to verify that the boys hadn’t gone north through his gate, Merlin and Peredur went to Ector to tell him of their suspicion.

“I’ll be bedraggled,” Ector said, his voice rising in anger. “I should have thrown that envoy on the dung heap after all and burnt every last parchment!”

“May Peredur and I . . . May we have leave to search for Artorius?”

“What? Not accompany me to battle?”

“That is correct, my lord. Artorius will join Vortigern in the south unless we — ”

The chieftain looked annoyed. “Well — well . . . I suppose. But bring him back as soon as you can. We need to make a man out of that boy.”

Peredur rode off to talk to his wife and Merlin rode hard to tell Natalenya.

Entering their home, he found her scrubbing the oatmeal pot.

“Merlin!” But her joy faded when she saw the graveness of his face. She set the wet rag down. “What’s wrong?”

“Artorius . . . he’s gone south.”

“South? But the Picti are — ”

“Read this.”

Natalenya took the parchment and scanned its contents. “You really think he — ”

Merlin nodded. “Yes, the foolhardy boy has gone the wrong way, and I need to catch him before Vortigern does.”

“But he won’t be recognized. Vortigern doesn’t know him.”

“He looks a lot like his father. If Vortigern even suspects . . .”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I have no idea. They’re on good horses, and unless we pick up their exact trail, we might not find him until he gets to Glevum.”

“That’s almost all the way to Kernow.” Natalenya paused, then a new light came into her eyes. “Can we come along? The children and I? Please . . . I’d do nearly anything to see my mother.”

“We’ll be riding hard, and the trail could be dangerous. Are you worried about your mother? Now that she’s an abbess you have nothing to fear for her anymore. Your father — ”

“We could sail, and even bring the horses. What if we sailed? Aunt Eira hired a boat last summer and went all the way to Penfro.”

“I won’t find Artorius that way . . . at least not until too late.”

Natalenya sighed.

“I’d better go. We’re taking the mountain pass.”

“Wait, then,” she said, tears in her eyes. A knife lay on the hearth, and she picked it up. Gripping the ragged edge of her skirt, Natalenya cut off a small square.

“What’re you doing?”

“Take this,” she said, handing him the cloth. “Whenever you hold it, know that we’ll be praying for you. Promise me you’ll keep it with you always.”

“I promise.”

“And I’ll . . . I’ll wear this skirt until you come back safely, and whenever I see the missing edge, I’ll think of you and pray.”

Peredur called and banged on the door.

Merlin kissed a tear on Natalenya’s cheek, hugged his little family, and left.

Darkness came that evening like the shadow of a hawk — swooping down over the high mountains until its black claws caught Natalenya by surprise. One moment she was sewing her skirt’s wounded edge at the window and the next thing she knew, it was too dark to see.

Taliesin looked up from where he was practicing his small harp and Tinga paused at her own sewing project. The hearth fire had
fallen to embers, so Natalenya shoveled them together and threw on a log to keep the night chill away. Then, lighting a rush lamp, she set it on the hearth between them and continued to sew.

Needle in. Needle out. Thread taut. Again and again. Needle in. Needle out. Thread taut. Little stitches, each one representing another day until she could see her love again. Each stitch representing another tear held back. Each stitch —

“Ouch!”

A drop of blood fell from her thumb and stained her skirt.

Tinga threw her needle to swinging and picked at a knot. “Mammu, did the badgers stab ya?”

“No, the
bad guys
didn’t stab me. I’ll be quite all right.” As she sucked on the wound, Taliesin set his harp down.

“Pick it up again, Tal. You’re not finished yet.”

“Listen.”

Natalenya fell silent for a moment. “There’s nothing — ”

“A horse . . . a horse is screaming!”

In the far distance, a horse neighed wildly.

“Nothing to worry about. If it’s a wolf, the horse tenders will get it.”

“What if ith not?” Tinga said, pulling her dolly closer to her side.

“Tell me, what else could it be? Let’s go through the rhyme of creatures your father taught us — ”

But another horse neighed in terror, this one in the field adjoining their house.

Natalenya pulled Tinga down until she knelt, motioned for Taliesin to get down, and slid along the wall next to the barred window. In spite of the iron bars, the presence of danger so close made her heart thud in her ears. With her back to the cold stones, she turned her head and peeked out the corner of the window. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but she saw dark shapes slipping toward their house while ignoring the horses, which galloped into the far reaches of the field.

Taliesin had found his sword and was biting his lip while he tested it. “Are they wolves?”

She motioned for him to blow out the lamp and reached for Tinga’s hand, only to find the girl gone. Her sewing had been thrown into a heap and the ball of yarn had rolled away. Panic rose in Natalenya’s throat until she spotted a small hand motioning from the secret door that Merlin had built behind their pantry shelf to protect the Harp of Britain.

Natalenya crawled across the floor to Tinga. “What are you doing?”