Page 12 of Warrior Queen
Anger at her welled up. Even though she no longer had Merlin, she’d done a good job of taking him away from us even when it seemed we had him back.
“Your pupils are missing you,” I said. “Llacheu told me their other teachers aren’t so much fun.”
This did bring a smile, albeit a small one, to Merlin’s face. “Really? You’d not think it to see their long faces when I make them read aloud in Latin, or tell me the names of the constellations, or medicinal plants. Or recite historical facts.”
I chuckled. “Maybe you’re the lesser of two evils. And I want you back teaching because before long Amhar’s going to need you… and Medraut.” My voice lowered as I thought of that little boy, now almost three years old, and what he represented.
“What’s wrong with Medraut?” Even in this state of mind his brain remained sharp as a knife.
I bit my tongue, regretting letting my feelings for that small boy show. I stayed silent, but on reflection that wasn’t the best thing to have done.
He frowned. “I thought we’d had that out last year?”
He meant my suspicions that Medraut might have been Arthur’s child by incest– just like the legends. He’d put me right on that– it would have been a physical impossibility as Arthur hadn’t seen his sister for years before Medraut’s birth. I’d come to the conclusion that this particular story was an invention of some medieval pervert.
“We did,” I said, then my unruly tongue ran away with me. “It’s something else.”
What was I doing? I’d sworn to myself never to mention anything I knew about the future again, after sword-in-the-stone-gate.
Merlin pressed his horse in close, with a glance over his shoulder at our guards. “Go on.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. Not here. We could be overheard. I’ll tell you when we’re alone.”
Why couldn’t I just shut up? But now I’d lifted the sluice gate an inch or two, relief was making the water pour out, and I wanted nothing more than to confide in someone. And Merlin would be the best, if not the only one I could tell. At least it might take his mind off his own problems.
*
The lake villagenestled close to the southern shore of the perpetually flooded marshes surrounding Ynys Witrin. Not quite a lake, as a current flowed, and one day, when drainage of the Somerset Levels was in place, it might well shrink enough to become the modern River Brue.
Over hundreds, if not thousands of years, an island of rocks and the debris of its previous incarnations had accrued under the rickety platform the village sat on. Nearby, on the shore, the villagers’ barns and animal pens clustered, and a narrow, uninspiring walkway led across the water to the village.
We found old Nial, the village headman, winnowing wheat in the largest barn with some of his men, the clouds of dust billowing out into the autumnal air warning us of their presence. Merlin sent one of our escort to winkle him out.
Nial emerged, covered in bits of chaff, with a thick layer of dust in his thinning brown hair and a big smile on his face. Probably more than happy to be dragged away from such an unpleasant, itchy chore.
“Milady the Queen. Milord Merlin. Good day to ye both.” He made an elaborate bow, confirming his delight at being disturbed.
Merlin swung down from the saddle and handed his horse’s reins to one of our guards. “I’ve brought the Queen to visit the abbey. We need someone to ferry us across– I was hoping you’d oblige.”
Nial bowed a second time and ran a hand through his sparse thatch, sending bits of chaff fluttering off into the breeze. “I’d be honored, Milord. Will yer men be stoppin’ ’ere a while?”
Merlin nodded. “If you can find somewhere to tether our horses and provide food and drink for my men, I’d be grateful. Not too much to drink, mind. I don’t want to find them rolling drunk on our return. You know what warriors can get up to when they’re bored.” Just for these few minutes, he sounded like the Merlin I knew and loved.
I dismounted and passed Alezan’s reins to one of our men. I wasn’t looking forward to the next bit– negotiating the narrow, wobbly-looking causeway to the village. Merlin must have guessed from the look on my face. He held out a lean, tanned hand, and I slipped mine into it. We followed Nial along the plank bridge, me doing my best not to look down into the murky water beneath its spindly legs.
The village platform was just about circular, with a hotchpotch of houses jammed in side-by-side to the very edge, reminding me of a picture I’d once seen of a place where a patchwork of colorful houses had overhung both sides of a sleepy river.
A tall, crudely carved, wooden post stood at the village center. Fishing nets waiting to be mended hung from its high hooks, and the women of the village sat cross-legged around it, their grubby, bare-bottomed children playing within the circle they made.
The women’s curious eyes followed us as we threaded our way between the houses to the far edge of the platform, but their horny fingers never ceased the threading of their shuttles through the nets. At a makeshift jetty, a cluster of flat-bottomed boats bobbed in a row on the current, like the fringe on a child’s homemade cowboy costume. They didn’t look any more seaworthy than they had three years ago.
Undaunted, Merlin hopped into the one Nial indicated, making it rock alarmingly. With reluctance, I took Merlin’s outstretched hand and stepped into the boat, conscious of the inch or so of water that slopped in the bottom, alongside Nial’s fishing rod.
With practiced fingers, Nial undid the rope tethering us to the jetty, and stepped lightly onto the stern, picking up a long, weathered pole from beside his rod. He used a foot to push us off, and we drifted out into the current, leaving the safety of the village behind.
The waterborne journey to the monks’ wharf took less time than I remembered, and, before I knew it, Nial was tying his boat fore and aft to the single jetty, and getting out his rod. A row of wooden cider barrels stood to one side, as though ready for shipment, or possibly newly returned to be refilled, but no one was about except a few sheep drinking at the muddy watering spot just beyond the wharf.
“I don’t know how long we’ll be,” Merlin said.
