Prince Arthur & the Quest for the Holy Grail
by Soledad
Genre: Action-adventure
Rating: General, for now.
Time-frame: post season 3, going off on an alternate storyline. Obviously.
Disclaimer: I don't own the settings of the BBC-series; everything related to the actual legends is common good. Only the plot idea of combining the two aspects is mine.
Beta read by the_wild_iris, whom I owe my gratitude. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Author's notes: Percival's background is based on Wolfram von Eschenbach's "Parzival", including the intermezzo with the Haughty Knight and his wife. The Lady Itonje is called "Jeschute" by Wolfram, but that's such a bizarre name that I replaced it with a randomly chosen female name from the same source.
Lord Lagres was originally called Lord Lac, but I renamed him to avoid the confusion that would have been caused by too many similar-sounding names.
Blacksmiths were indeed highly respected people in the Middle Ages; in the early times, they were even considered sorcerers, due to their craft.
Tintagel Castle was originally the place where Uther seduced Ygraine, magically taking on the shape of her husband. Since the show used different character dynamics, I simply borrowed the name and gave it to the old castle in which the Round Table stood.
Chapter 01 – The Needs of Camelot
The realm that Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot, had to rule in his father's stead – while King Uther was slowly recovering from the time pent in his own dungeons during Morgana's reign – was in a shambles. Camelot itself had been seriously damaged by Morgana's uncontrolled outlash of grief, and her immortal army had all but levelled the villages around the castle. The roads between Camelot and Cenred's ream had been raided by footpads (often poor farmers who had lost everything), and the forests had been all but stripped of all game, as there was very little else that people could have eaten.
The fact that Cenred had been slain and his entire army had vanished when Merlin had broken the immortality spell by knocking over the Cup of Life did not help. It only meant that now Cenred's lands were lordless and in upheaval – ripe for the taking by any of their land-hungry neighbours, from Bayard of Mercia to Kings Alined, Odin or Olaf. Even bandits like Hengist or any power-hungry knight or younger prince looking for a throne to usurp could easily conquer the all-but-empty lands, establishing a strong and possible hostile reign right in the neighbourhood.
"Strategically, this would be the right time to conquer Cenred's lands and add them to the realm of Camelot," said Sir Leon thoughtfully during the daily morning audience with the Crown Prince. "Except…"
"Except that we don't have the means to do so," Arthur finished for him. "All but a handful of our knights have been slain, and of those whom we still have, my father would never accept the best ones."
"I'm afraid you're right about that, sire," Geoffrey de Monmouth, aside from Gaius the only one of Uther's advisors who had survived Morgana's reign of terror, said darkly. "King Uther would never agree to break the First Code of Camelot and accept any knight of common birth, no matter how much we needed them. Once he has recovered, some of your most valiant knights will be expelled."
"I wish I could change his mind," Arthur sighed. "But he's a stubborn man, and all that's happened lately – especially with Morgana – hit him hard. He won't be in an agreeable mood for a long time yet to come."
His recently-knighted champions – Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan – exchanged looks of understanding. It was Elyan who spoke up eventually.
"We know that, sire," he said, "and we do not blame you for it. I still stand by what I said in the ancient Castle of Tintagel: even though I was a commoner, a nobody, you were willing to lay down your life for me, and for that, you'll have my loyalty, as long as I can still draw breath."
"You weren't exactly a nobody," Gaius corrected gently. "You were – you still are – a blacksmith; one who can make swords from stone, using fire and water to transform raw ore into molten metal and molten metal into shining swords in your forge. That is no small feat; blacksmiths were considered the wielders of powerful magic in ancient times."
Elyan looked at him with a concerned frown. "I do not use magic, Master Gaius; and neither did my father, whatever King Uther might have accused him of. All we ever had were our knowledge and skills."
"Skills that might seem like magic in the eyes of the ignorant," pointed out Gaius. "I was not accusing you of anything. I just wanted to remind you that you don't have to be ashamed of what you are."
"I am not," Elyan shrugged. "However, I know King Uther will see it differently. He would never accept me as a knight of Camelot. But that's all right. My time will come; and until then, I'll be content to remain the blacksmith and support Arthur any way I can."
"So will we all," Percival added.
"Speaking of which," Arthur turned to him, "I think we're all eager to learn a bit more about you, Sir Percival. All we know is that you're a friend of Lancelot, which is enough to know you to be trustworthy. Nonetheless, we'd all wish to hear more about your origins… Master Geoffrey above all else, I think," he added with a smile in the direction of the court genealogist.
"So I would," Geoffrey agreed placatingly.
"There's not much to tell," replied Percival with a shrug. "I used to live with my widowed mother in the Gaste Forest all my youth…"
"The Gaste Forest?" repeated Arthur, looking at Geoffrey askance.
"Also known as the Desolate Forest," explained the court genealogist helpfully; family trees weren't the only thing he knew a great deal about. "It lies in King Alined's realm and is not a pleasant place, I'm told."
"Oh, it wasn't that bad," Percival answered dismissively, "although my mother seemed to hate it. But once I've grown good at hunting, we always had enough to eat. And footpads seldom dared to bother us."
Looking at the new knight's enormous arms that could have put ancient tree trunks to shame, Merlin could easily believe that.
"But what happened to your father?" asked Sir Leon. "Who was your father to begin with?"
"His name was Gahmuret," Percival shrugged. "I don't really know that much about him. I was but a babe on arms when he died; mother never told me how."
"Gahmuret?" the court genealogist repeated in shock. "You mean Sir Gahmuret the Angevin? The one who married Princess Herzeloyde of Munsalvasche?"
Percival stared at the bearded old man in open-mouthed bewilderment.
"Well, the name of my mother is Herzeloyde," he admitted," but this is the first time I hear about her being a princess."
Arthur, too, looked at Master Geoffrey in surprise. "You knew Sir Percival's father, then?"
The old man shook his head. "Only by reputation. It's said that Sir Gahmuret was the finest knight in all the isles of the sea. He fought glorious battles for King Alined with his elder sons at his side, both of whom were valiant knights. Alas, they both died in combat. Legend says that as the eldest lay dead, the crows and the ravens picked out his eyes. Seeing this, Gahmuret died of grief, and his wife took their only remaining child, a boy barely a year old, to live in the forest. She hoped to shield him from knighthood that way."
Seems she went all those lengths in vain, Merlin thought, amused by the strange story. Of all of Arthur's newly-dubbed knights, Percival was the last he would have taken for the son of a famous knight and a princess. The young man was strong as an ox and good-natured, but always seemed a bit slow-witted. Perhaps he was just unused to people, though, having spent most of his life in the wilderness.
"And she never told you any of this?" Sir Leon asked, baffled.
Percival shook his head, hesitating between anger and regret. "She never told me anything. I didn't even know that I used to have brothers, until now! She raised me like a simpleton; perhaps she hoped no-one would take me seriously if I remained ignorant."
"How did you end up in the company of Lancelot, then?" asked Merlin, for this was what had interested him from the very moment Lancelot and Percival had miraculously appeared to save their lives from Cenred's men.
"I was out hunting with javelins when I heard a group of five knights riding through the forest," explained Percival. "At first I thought such noise must have been caused by a horde of evil demons; then, when I saw the knights in their glittering armour, I mistook them for faery kings. I decided that I wanted to become like them and left my mother, following their track."
"Your mother was probably devastated." Merlin could not help but feel sorry for the princess who had taken voluntarily exile upon herself, just to lose her only remaining son to the very thing she had wanted to protect him from at all costs.
"She cried and begged me not to go," Percival admitted, a little ashamed. "But when I insisted on going, she even helped me to get dressed and gave me good advice how to behave in the outside world."
"Only he foolishly misunderstood his mother's advice on women," Lancelot added, grinning. "When he came across a lady in a tent, he forced her to kiss him, took a ring from her finger, wolfed down her venison pies and drank her wine, before leaving her in a state of great distress."
"Oh no, you didn't!" Gwen cried out in exasperation, while the knights, including Arthur, were laughing uproariously.
"Oh yes, he did!" Lancelot assured them, still grinning from ear to ear, while Percival became beet red with embarrassment. "I came across them – I mean the lady and her lover, Sir Orilus, who is, by the way, the Duke of Lalande – some time later. The lady was dishevelled and half-undressed, and Sir Orilus refused to believe that she had been kissed against her will. Then he swore to kill Percival and set off, dragging the poor lady behind him."
"That was not very gallant of him," Sir Leon commented with a frown. "What did you do then?"
"I wanted to know the man who could be such an ignorant fool and went to look for him," answered Lancelot. "Fortunately for him, I found him before Sir Orilus did; for as strong as he may be, he did not yet know how to wield a sword back then. I took him to Lord Gornemant of Gohort, whom I'd served for a while as a hired sword, to have him properly taught and trained. Because Sir Orilus won't rest ere he has his vengeance, I'm afraid. He's called the Haughty Knight of Heath for a reason."
"That he is," Sir Leon agreed. "The man has the worst reputation in three countries. Although," he added with a brief glance in Percival's direction, "this time he has every right to feel insulted on behalf of his lady."
"I'm truly sorry," muttered Percival uncomfortably. "I meant no harm, I swear."
"Well, what's done is done," said Master Geoffrey philosophically. "At least we can see to it that you get a fair combat, man against man. Since you are the son of Gahmuret the Angevin, we can have your Seal of Nobility confirmed and added to those of the other knights of Camelot. King Uther will accept you without protest; and if the Duke of Lalander has a grievance against you, he'll have to challenge you and to fight you fairly."
"In which case you have nothing to worry about," Lancelot added. "I saw you fight. You'll beat him with one arm bound behind your back."
"I'm more worried about that poor lady," replied Percival. "I treated her badly, albeit out of ignorance; I hope the Duke won't abuse her for what was my fault."
"Any idea who the lady might have been?" asked Arthur of Lancelot.
Lancelot shrugged. "The Duke called her Yitonne or something like that.
"You mean Itonje?" Sir Leon asked seriously.
Lancelot nodded. "Could be, yes. Why? Do you know her?"
"We all do," Sir Leon looked at Arthur in anguish. "Sire, the Lady Itonje is the sister of Sir Geraint and Sir Erec."
"Our Sir Erec?" Arthur remembered the young knight still lying in Gaius' makeshift infirmary with grievous wounds. Sir Leon nodded.
"Yes, sire. And she's not the lover of the Duke of Lalande; she's his wife."
"So what?" asked Lancelot, who did not know the nobles of the realm very well. "Percival would beat this Sir Erec, too, one-handed."
"No doubt he would," replied Geoffrey de Monmouth. "But neither Sir Erec's father, the lord of Ester-Gales nor the Count of Laluth, whose daughter he has been courting for years, would take it kindly, should he be slain by a member of his own brotherhood. Moreover, Lord Lagres might demand reparation for the insult towards his daughter, too; and as he is one of the staunch supporters of the throne, Prince Arthur would do well to placate him at all costs. And there is still Sir Geraint to consider – he is one of the ranking knights of Camelot, who would be not so easy to beat in a combat."
"It seems your mother did you great disservice," said Arthur, looking at Percival with a regretful shake of his head. "It doesn't matter, though. I won't abandon those few who stood with me in Camelot's darkest hour. I need you to rebuild that which has been destroyed; and to defend what little has been spared."
"We need to find new knights and train them to defend Camelot properly," Sir Leon reminded him. "Aside from the five of us, only Sir Geraint and Sir Bedivere have survived; and Bedivere is crippled from his wound he received while seeking for the Questing Beast."
"What about Sir Pellinor?" asked Arthur of Gaius.
The court physician shrugged dejectedly. "No changes, sire. He is still lying like one dead, as he has done ever since that fateful fight, although he is still breathing. His… condition is beyond my ability to heal."
"He won't be of any use to us, unless we find a way to break the spell that holds him," insisted Sir Leon. "It's a miracle that he's still alive, after two years, without eating or drinking. We cannot wait for another miracle; we need to fill up our ranks, now."
"Believe me, Sir Leon, I'm all too aware of this," Arthur sighed. "Do you have a suggestion how we might find new knights for Camelot? Not to mention how to train them properly in such a short time? For I do not think that it will take long before our neighbours would decide to take advantage of our weakened state."
"I do, sire," answered Sir Leon. "All our fallen knights have family: brothers, cousins, young uncles even. As all noblemen, they must have been properly trained from early childhood on – like I was. Like my brother was. Let it be cried all over the realm that they may come to Camelot and prove themselves. They will come. You can try them out and pick the best ones."
"You mean you can try them out," Arthur corrected. "I shall leave this in your capable hands, Sir Leon. At least until my father recovers enough to take up his knightly duties again," he added with a wistful tone, and Merlin suppressed a smile. He knew Arthur missed the daily training with his knights – most of whom were, sadly, dead. They had been his only company, and there had been an easy camaraderie between them, even though he stood above them like the bastions of Camelot.
Knowing the same thing and feeling truly sorry for his Crown Prince, Sir Leon bowed towards Arthur respectfully.
"I'll do my best to find the most valiant knights for Camelot, sire," he promised.
"I know you will," replied Arthur. "You've been the strongest pillar upholding this castle since I can remember. I trust you unconditionally." He turned to Gaius. "Has there been any word about Morgana?"
Gaius shook his head. "No, sire. She has not been seen since the immortality spell was broken; and neither has Morgause."
"But they can't be dead!" Arthur said. "We searched the rubble thoroughly, and there were no bodies!"
"No," Gaius agreed. "They're most certainly hiding… and will be for a while yet, until Morgause recovers. She took a heavy fall, but a sorceress like her isn't easily killed. She will be back to haunt us, eventually."
"But right now, she's weakened," said Gwaine. "Perhaps this would be the right time to hunt her down and give her the rest."
Arthur shook his head. "We cannot waste time – or men – on a witch hunt, no matter how much I would want her dead. We cannot even begin to guess where to look for her… for them."
"I'd suggest Cenred's kingdom," said Merlin quietly, taking advantage of the rare (and temporary) fact that he was allowed to sit with them at the table. "Magic isn't outlawed there, and Morgause has doubtlessly found allies among the mightiest of the land. Not everyone was happy with Cenred's reign, even there."
"Which is another reason why we cannot go after them," Arthur pointed out logically. "Besides, Morgana would protect Morgause with all her might, and we've already seen what she's capable of."
"Even if you managed to destroy her, Uther would never forgive you," Gaius added grimly. "No matter what she's done, she's still his daughter, and he loves her beyond reason."
"I know," Arthur sighed. "I wish my father hadn't outlawed magic in Camelot. It seems to me that it's mostly the harmless ones that we catch and kill. The truly evil ones are smart enough to defend themselves, leaving us defenceless against them."
Gaius stole a glance at Merlin, recognized the wistful look on the young warlock's face – Merlin was really too open for his own good sometimes – and kicked him in the shin warningly.
"Perhaps so, sire," he said. "But as long as your father is king, you cannot change the law. You can remember all this when you come into your own, though, and consider very carefully if there's anything you would want to change."
"You mean I should allow the use of magic again, once I'm king?" Arthur's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"No, sire," answered Gaius patiently. "I'm just saying that if you decide to change anything, you should consider carefully what that would be."
Arthur stared at him for a moment, trying to find some hidden meaning behind his words, but he could not. So he turned back to Sir Leon, who had been acting lately as his seneschal – among half a dozen other things.
"Are there still refugees coming to Camelot?" he asked.
"A great many of them, sire, looking for work that would feed them and their families," replied Sir Leon. "Some of them we can certainly employ within the Citadel – many of our faithful servants have been killed as well – but there are more than I can deal with, unless I was to neglect my more important duties."
"I can make Gwen the chatelaine of the castle," offered Arthur. "That would take some of the burden off your shoulders."
His unofficial privy council went very silent at that. Everyone with eyes to see had noticed the Crown Prince's growing attachment to Gwen, and none of them begrudged him a little happiness. That did not mean, however, that they would agree with his choice. They all knew Uther would never allow it – he had very nearly had Gwen executed for enchanting his son and heir just a short time ago – and neither did they believe that a serving wench would be the right person to become Queen of Camelot. Not even her own brother.
"I believe, sire, you should choose someone whom your father, too, would approve of," said Geoffrey de Monmouth after a lengthy, uncomfortable silence. "A man of proper birth, who could become the seneschal of Camelot permanently. Serving under that man as the chatelaine, Guinevere could still reign over the serving women; that would be a most suitable task for her, now that her lady is gone – and it would keep her in the Citadel."
Arthur considered the suggestion for a moment, clearly reluctant to give up his plan concerning Gwen.
"Do you have someone in mind?" he then asked.
The court genealogist nodded in obvious relief. "Indeed I do, sire. Give me a few days to contact the family, and I shall provide you with a seneschal not even King Uther would reject."
The next few days were spent in frantic activity, everyone trying their best to deal with the aftermath of Morgana's reign. Gaius was looking after the sick and the injured. Sir Leon was trying and testing the young noblemen who had, indeed, come to Camelot in surprisingly great numbers to become knights, while dabbling in the duties of the seneschal as much as his time allowed.
Gwen divided her time between helping him and Gaius, ultimately, while taking care of Uther who – driven half-mad by Morgana's betrayal – was literally locked in his room to keep him safe, until he came to terms with what had happened… if he ever did. There were some days when Arthur seriously asked himself whether his father would, indeed, recover at all, or if he would be have to take on the burdens of kingship before he actually became king… and how long that might take.
Elyan had returned to his forge, picked up two apprentices, and they were busily repairing jagged weapons and bent armour – when they were not helping the carpenters, roofers and stone-masons to rebuild Camelot's defences, destroyed by the war machines of Cenred's army. They also had to hammer out all the twisted iron bars from splintered doors and gates, of which there were plenty.
"We are fortunate that another blacksmith has fled to Camelot from one of the outlying villages," he told Gwen as they were sitting in their father's house, having a meagre supper that would not have fed a scrawny child, let alone a grown man who had worked hard at his forge all day. "Otherwise, we would not be able to catch up with all the work at all. Even so, I might have to take on more helpers – if I could only afford to feed them."
Food – or rather the lack of it – was becoming their most serious problem. Two harvests had been more or less destroyed in recent years; first by the Great Dragon's attack and then by the armies of Cenred, and resources were running dangerously low. It was not as bad as it had been after the killing of the unicorn, but it was coming close.
"We must open the granaries to feed our people, sire," argued Geoffrey de Monmouth. "They are on the brink of starvation as it is."
"We cannot do that," replied Arthur tiredly. "The granaries aren't even half-full, and they are the only means to get our people through the coming winter. We'll need what's there."
And he ordered the watch on the granaries to be doubled, just in case.
Merlin, who whole-heartedly agreed with him, put a spell on the granary doors, so that they could only be opened when he released them. And he magically fortified the gates themselves, just in case. One could never be too careful when people feared starvation.
Percival used his great strength – when he was not helping Sir Leon train the new knights-to-be, that is – to help with the rebuilding of the Citadel's defences. Seeing a nobleman labour among the builders shocked the people at first, but when they got to know him and his uncouth innocence a little better, they grew fond of him quickly, and he seemed to enjoy himself and the hard work quite a lot.
Geoffrey de Monmouth was doing the sad task of listing all the people who had been slain by Cenred's immortal army, so that their families could be given word about their fate. He had also taken the necessary steps to have Percival's Seal of Nobility re-created and to contact the family of the future seneschal of Camelot.
Lancelot was riding patrols with some sturdy men-at-arms, so that no enemy could approach Camelot unobserved. Gwaine did the same, with different troops. Both brought back more disheartening news about the state of the villages they had visited, every time they returned; and even more refugees, streaming to Camelot in the hope of food and shelter – things that Camelot was slowly running out of.
As for Merlin, he was trying to keep Arthur sane amidst all this insanity, while doing his best to help Gaius, and – secretly – making great efforts to heal the scorched earth and the burned forests, neither of which was an easy task. There was another thing that concerned him more, though – more than just the lack of food and Camelot lying in ruins.
"The Cup of Life cannot stay in Camelot," he warned Arthur. "We saw what it can do in the wrong hands. If Morgause finds a way to get it back…"
"We'll wall it in, down in the vaults," Arthur suggested. "She'd never find it there."
Merlin shook his head. "Morgana knows Camelot like the back of her hand, remember? We must get the Cup somewhere safe. It must be well-hidden and well-protected."
"Merlin, the Druids won't be able to protect it any better than we do," Arthur pointed out. "In case you've forgotten, we were able to take it from them without breaking a sweat."
"Only because they didn't want any bloodshed," Merlin riposted. "I wasn't thinking of the Druids, though."
"So what?" Arthur demanded. "Do you really think there's someone who could resist the combined powers of Morgana and Morgause? Because I seriously doubt that."
"Not someone," answered Merlin, knowing all too well that he wasn't experienced enough to do that indeed. "Something. I'm suggesting sinking the Cup under the waters of Avalon, the Fairie Lake."
"You mean the pool where Sophia tried to drown me, so that she could become one of the Sidhe again?" asked Arthur in a falsely light tone. The memories of that day, floating under the surface of the lake, still haunted his dreams sometimes.
Merlin nodded. "The very same, yes. The Cup will be safe there; the Sidhe don't need it, and they won't let mortal men have it."
He consciously left out the part where Freya, now transformed into something beyond mortal existence, lived at the bottom of the Lake, but he was sure she would keep an eye on the Cup for them. Arthur must have felt that he was keeping something from him because he looked at him most suspiciously for a moment – then he apparently decided not to ask… for the time being anyway. Merlin had no doubts that the investigation would happen eventually.
"I cannot leave Camelot now," the Prince finally said, and Merlin nodded in agreement.
"Of course not," he answered cheerfully. "I'll go."
"You?" Arthur stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted another head. "Merlin, are you insane? You really think I'd allow you of all people to stroll across the woods – which, I'm sure you know, are full of wolves and footpads – with possibly the most dangerous magical trinket in Albion in your bag?"
"Yes," replied Merlin airily. Arthur glanced heavenwards, as if expecting some higher power to come to his aid.
"And why, by all that is holy, would I do that?" he asked with a patience he did not really feel.
Merlin shrugged and gave him one of those adorably dorky smiles that could always disarm him, no matter how angry he might be.
"Because no-one would really expect me to carry anything of value?" he suggested.
Arthur had to admit that there was some truth in that. Still, he found Merlin's idea monumentally stupid. He told him so – and was rewarded by a full-force Merlin pout, complete with the patented look of hurt innocence that not even a kicked puppy could have performed any better.
"All right," he said tiredly. "I cannot let you go alone, obviously; you're clumsy and useless and would break your leg after the first mile, or cut yourself with an eating knife and bleed to death. But if you find someone even remotely skilled in fighting to go with you, you may go."
Merlin's delightful grin almost made him reconsider, as he had little doubt that his idiot of a manservant would find someone to go with him, sooner or later. Merlin had a way with people, and if something was important enough for him, he displayed an almost uncanny talent to make them do his bidding. Those deep blue eyes, combined with the sad expression of a lost puppy, usually did the trick.
Sometimes Arthur wished he could learn that particular trick, too.
In the end, he did not reconsider, though. Merlin was right; they needed to get the Cup out of Camelot and to someplace safe where Morgause could not lay her hands on it. For a magical trinket supposed to give life, it could too easily be turned into a terrible weapon.
Which reminded him of something…
"Before you take the Cup away, though," he said, "could we not use it to save Erec and Pellinor? Or is this another one of those to save a life you must take a life sort of things?"
Merlin shook his head. "No; they aren't dead or dying. But the Cup only works with a powerful healing spell."
Arthur raised a golden eyebrow. "So? Gaius can cast it, I'm sure. After all, he used to be a sorcerer once."
"Yeah, and he avoided execution by giving up sorcery, in case you've forgotten," Merlin returned sharply. "I won't have him burned at the stake, so you can just forget it!"
"No-one needs to know," said Arthur in a low voice. "Not even I need to know."
"If your father ever finds out…" began Merlin, but Arthur interrupted him.
"Why should he? He doesn't take notice of much these days; we can't even let him out of his chambers alone. Merlin, I need those knights! Camelot needs them! There are so few of us left, and it will take time to train the new ones."
This, of course, was very true, and Merlin found it hard to argue with the simple truth.
"All right," he said. "I'll talk to Gaius. But this is his decision, not mine."
"Of course," Arthur agreed. "It's also possible that he can't do it at all. I'd be grateful if he could at least try, though."
"I'll see what I can do," said Merlin, knowing all too well that he'd be able to heal the ailing knights without great effort, and feeling vaguely guilty about deceiving Arthur and getting his mentor in danger at the same time.
"That's all I'm asking," Arthur replied. "Now, I have to meet Gwen about those new kitchen maids she wants to employ, but I'll want you back tonight, when Sir Leon presents his chosen candidates for knighthood."
"In the time of famine, you really ought to find more convincing excuses to see Gwen," Merlin commented with a wide grin, already heading for the door to find Gaius.
As expected, he found his mentor in the workshop, where the old physician was cooking up some concoction to treat the scrapes and bruises the men rebuilding Camelot frequently suffered. What he had not expected was to find his mother with Gaius. Hunith looked bruised and battered, her clothes soiled with the dust of the long way she had clearly made on foot from Ealdor to Camelot… and her left arm was in a sling. She must have suffered severe mistreatment, either on the road or back in her home village already.
"Mother!" exclaimed Merlin, running to her and hugging her carefully, not wanting to jostle her apparently broken arm. "What happened to you?"
"Lawless men fell on Ealdor and burned the village to the ground," explained Hunith with a weary sigh. "We tried to defend our homes… and lost. Many died; the others fled to the nearest settlements. But I… I didn't want to live at the mercy of strangers…"
"Of course not; your place is here with us, Hunith," said Gaius gently. "We don't have much, but what we do have is yours, girl. You should have come earlier."
Hunith shook her head tiredly. "As long as I still had a home, I belonged to Ealdor," she said. "I hope that one day I may return and rebuild that home. Until then, though, I gladly accept any shelter you can offer, Uncle."
"You can have my room," Merlin offered eagerly. "It's not much, but you can be undisturbed there. I'll go and sleep in the antechamber of Arthur's room, like all other servants do with their masters."
"No," Gaius said. "No, that won't do. You need a place for yourself where you can study without being caught. It's important. And Hunith needs a little more room to live than your small chamber."
"You have a plan, don't you?" asked Merlin with twinkling eyes. Gaius nodded.
"I do indeed. Alice's house is still standing empty. Your mother can move in there, tend to the house, keep it from falling apart. There she will have her own life, yet will be close enough to call upon you, should she need any help."
"But what if Alice returns?" asked Hunith.
She clearly knew who Alice was, which made Merlin wonder what other secrets his mother was still keeping from him. Secrets from her youth, from long before his birth – from a time when magic had not yet been outlawed in Camelot and winged dragons draw their wide circles high above in the air.
Gaius smiled at his niece encouragingly. "I don't think that she would mind; although I doubt that she will come back any time soon. She always liked you, Hunith; thought of you as if you were her own daughter. A daughter she could never have. Besides, I have recently purchased the house; I have every right to dispose of it."
"You?" Hunith repeated in surprise. Gaius shrugged.
"I'm a free man of Camelot, I can have property to my name if I want to; and I didn't want strangers to move into the house… turn it upside down, change everything. There are too many memories of happier times there. Besides, I wanted Merlin to have a place to go, should he ever want to leave Prince Arthur's service."
Merlin shook his head. "I can't, Gaius; you know that."
"You cannot leave now," Gaius corrected. "But who can foretell what will happen in a year's time? Or five? Or ten? You need a place that you can call yours, and as the two of you are the only kin I have left, it's my responsibility to provide it."
Hunith looked at him with wide, shining eyes. "You have always been like a father to me, Uncle Gaius; more generous than any father could ever be, in truth."
"Nonsense," Gaius smiled tiredly. "I'm just a selfish old man who wants to keep what little family he still has close. Now, Merlin, why don't you help your mother get comfortable in that house?"
"In a moment," Merlin replied, eyeing the broken arm of his mother in concern. "As soon as I've healed that arm."
"Merlin, you can't!" protested Hunith, suddenly very frightened. "If people find out what you've done…"
"Why should they?" Merlin interrupted. "You've just arrived with your arm in a sling. Gaius had a look at it and found that it was only bruised, not broken, after all. No, mother," he said, seeing that Hunith wanted to protest some more. "What good would my gift be for me if I could not even spare my mother some unnecessary suffering? I am healing that arm now, so please stop arguing, will you?"
He seemed so determined that Hunith gave up, allowing him to unwrap her arm that was black and blue with bruises indeed. Merlin took the broken limb between his palms, focused and murmured something in an unknown, harsh-sounding archaic language. His eyes flashed gold, and Hunith could feel the broken bones in her arm realign themselves and knit slowly. It hurt very much, but it was a good hurt, one that promised future healing.
"Done!" Merlin finally declared, his eyes turning back to their usual deep blue again. "I left some of the pain, so that people won't become suspicious by your sudden healing, but it will fade in a day or two… I hope. I'm not used to practicing healing magic."
"You're a good boy." Hunith kissed him on the cheek, and Merlin blushed and pulled in his neck, trying not to look too self-satisfied, but the truth was, the praise of his mother meant the world to him. More than anything else.
"Off you go!" Gaius hustled them out of the door. "And hurry back, Merlin. We've got a great number of patients to treat… the old-fashioned way."
That reminded Merlin of Arthur's request concerning the ailing knights and his good mood was blown away at once. Gaius noticed it, of course, but did not ask any questions, not wanting to make Hunith more worried than she already was. He knew Merlin would tell him about the problem, as soon as he found the right moment to do so.
Mistress Alice's house – that now belonged to Gaius – stood in the lower town, in one of the less prominent side streets lined by the shops of small craftsmen; candle-makers, honey-makers, oil and spice merchants and pastry cooks, mostly. The shops of the food purveyors were presently more or less abandoned, due to the current food shortage, and even the shutters were bolted shut. In a tailor's shop, however, three or four doors further down the street, the master tailor was sitting inside, cutting and sewing away on pieces of drab homespun cloth. The lower town was a district where the small people lived, with little (if any) money in their purses. Finer and more expensive fabrics than rough wool were not in great demand here.
Seeing their approach, the tailor looked up hopefully. After a fleeting glance at Hunith's battered appearance, though, his hopes quickly deflated again. He was a small, bird-like man in his middle years, his back permanently bent from having crouched over his work for many years by now. He did not seem well-fed, even less so than the rest of the people residing in Camelot, and he clearly did not entertain high hopes that his situation would improve any time soon.
"Poor man," muttered Hunith as her son guided her by the tailor's shop towards the little stone house with a tiny, open veranda in front instead of a shop window. "It seems he has not had many customers lately."
"Few of the small craftsmen did," answered Merlin thoughtfully. "What little money the people in the lower town had, they've already spent on food… if they could find any. These are hard times for Camelot. But perhaps we can get you some clothes from Master Richart here, once you've settled down a bit."
"Merlin, I cannot afford new clothes," Hunith smiled in sorrow. "I never had any money to spare, you know that. We barely managed it on the food we grew from one year to the next, even without Kanen's band robbing us of our living."
"I remember," replied Merlin grimly. "I've only been away for three years. But I serve the Crown Prince himself, and I get paid… well, sometimes. Enough to not let my mother go around in filthy rags."
"But you should save your money!" protested Hunith. "You're a young man; you have needs."
His son gave her one of those blinding smiles that could cheer up a rainy day.
"Of course I have needs," he said lightly. "I need to take good care of my mother, for example."
Not waiting for her answer, he pulled back the latch and opened the heavy, iron-bound door of the small house. It opened with a loud creak, letting the sunlight stream into the dim interior, dancing on the dust in the air. The inside of the house consisted of a single room with two rather small windows left and right of the door and a low roof, supported by a sturdy, vertical oak beam in the middle. It was a fairly bleak room, its stone walls not covered with plaster; although they were lined with wooden shelves that reached from the floor to the ceiling. On some of the shelves, mortars and bottles and small clay pots stood between bouquets of drying herbs, even the odd book on herbal medicine. Just as Mistress Alice had left them when she had had to flee Camelot again a few weeks earlier.
The furniture, too, was sparse at best. There were two sturdy wooden tables; one right opposite the door, with two high-backed chairs that seemed to have seen better days, the other one, clearly a work bench, on the right side, under the larger window. On the same side stood a bed, but further into the room, beyond the central beam. It was a rather simple bed, looking almost like a wooden box, but at least it had been suitably provided with pillows and blankets and bedlinens… all of which Mistress Alice had been forced to leave behind.
Two large, iron-bound chests stood in the farthest corners. A quick look inside revealed more bedding and even towels in one and some clothes in the other one. All of it clearly needed a thorough airing, but at least they were clean, and in the end, they could be used – until Hunith had the means to replace that which the burning of Ealdor had destroyed. Right now, she could not be choosy, as she had literally nothing, save the clothes she was wearing, and even those were in really bad shape.
A small door opposite the entrance led into a tiny, walled garden behind the house; Mistress Alice had once clearly used it to grow her own herbs. The garden was now jus a wild patch of uncontrollable growth, but the small wash-house and the privy leaning against the wall could still be used – and it had even its own stone well in the middle of the long-gone beets. Granted, one without a pump, where the bucket had to be pulled up by hand, but it hadn't been any different in Ealdor. Hunith was used to that.
In truth, the little house offered all the meagre comfort she had used to have in her old home – and then some. It was also close to her son. She was certain that she would do just fine here, until the chance to return to Ealdor offered itself.
"I'm glad to hear that," said Gaius when Merlin finally returned to the Citadel. "I was worried about her, and I know that you were, too."
"A little," Merlin confessed. "I've missed her very much. It's good to have her within reach, should she need any help."
"So it is," Gaius agreed. "So, now that your mother is settled down, can you tell me what's eating you? And don't tell me it's nothing; I know you far too well to believe that."
"It's Arthur," Merlin admitted. "He wants us to use the Cup of Life to heal Sir Erec and Sir Pellinor… or at least give it a try."
"Us?" Gaius repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Merlin, you haven't done anything foolish, have you?"
"Of course not!" snapped Merlin indignantly. "He wants you to use the Cup, since he knows that once upon a time you used to dabble in sorcery."
Gaius shook his head. "I'm not sure I can handle a spell powerful enough to make the Cup heal those young men."
"Well, I can," said Merlin. "I could heal them easily. But then Arthur would think you had been the one to cast the spell; and should it ever come out, you would be the one thrown into the dungeons and executed for practising magic."
"Only if it comes out while Uther is still King," replied Gaius calmly.
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Great, because he's going to hand over kingship to Arthur while he still can draw breath! Arthur might be inclined to be more… tolerant, especially when the needs of Camelot are this pressing, but he cannot change the law; not as long as his father is King. And Uther would show you no mercy, just because you've served him faithfully for twenty years or more."
"No, he wouldn't," Gaius agreed. "In fact, he would be much harder on me than on any common sorcerer. He doesn't take betrayal lightly."
"So, there you have it then," declared Merlin angrily. Gaius smiled.
"My boy, I am an old man. I've seen much and done much, little of which was truly important, but I can say one thing with clean conscience: I've always served Camelot and its people to the best of my abilities. I've always put the needs of Camelot before my own interests and desires."
"I know you have," Merlin began, but Gaius interrupted him.
"And now Camelot needs its remaining knights to be ready and strong enough to defend the people. Those young men, who have been lying at death's door for years, still have their entire life before them – and they are needed. Now we may have the means to heal them and to give Camelot the protection of two more excellent swords. And Prince Arthur even approves. So what if Uther finds out? I may not be a knight, but I'll gladly give up my life to save Camelot."
"But… but you'd be punished for something I'd have done!" said Merlin miserably. Gaius smiled and patted his back in a fatherly manner.
"Does it truly matter? I would cast the spell myself, if I had the powers to do so; alas, I do not, but I'd be willing. You see, you'll be just a substitute. Someone to do my work where I no longer can do it myself."
"That's twisting the truth, and you know it," Merlin accused him. Gaius shrugged.
"Of course. How else, do you think, have I managed to survive in Uther's court all these years? Merlin, you ought to have learned by now that truth is not an absolute value. It only does any good as long as it causes no harm."
"I thought that was a physician's oath," said Merlin. "To cause no harm."
Gaius nodded. "So it is. I've took that oath many years ago: to save lives, to help people. Do you expect me to go back on my solemn promise, just because saving someone might get me into trouble?"
Merlin shook his head in reluctant amusement. "I can't win against you, can I?"
"No, you can't," Gaius replied placidly. "You're still way too young and innocent for that. Now, do we agree that Sir Erec and Sir Pellinor need to be healed?"
Merlin nodded reluctantly. "When do you want me to do it?"
"Not right away," said Gaius. "Not while the court is full of visitors; this is not something I want strangers to learn about. As soon as they've left, though. Sir Erec and Sir Pellinor will need a long time to recover, even after they've been healed. They'll be weak and disoriented for quite a while yet; and Prince Arthur will have to work them hard ere they'll regain their usual skills with the sword."
"I wonder when he's going to find the time to do that," Merlin commented worriedly. "He's half-smothered by the burden of kingship already, and he isn't even King yet. He was not prepared for this. He's doing his best, but…"
"About that," said Gaius calmly, "you no longer need to worry. Geoffrey has received word from Sir Ector; he's about to arrive today. And once he's here, he'll take a considerable part of the burden from Prince Arthur's shoulders. He did the same for Uther once, after all."
~TBC~