Occasionally over the years a letter arrived, but the news it contained was always older than word of the latest catastrophe to menace Camelot. I could never rest easy. I never knew if the latest disaster that swirled around Uther's court and then Arthur's had taken my son from me forever. I trusted Prince Arthur – King Arthur, now – because I knew he cared for my son as much as my son cared for him. They would keep each other safe until their last breaths, but I feared constantly that one or both of them had already breathed his last and no one had yet told me.
It broke my heart to learn that beautiful girl who had fought with us against Kanen was now Arthur's sworn enemy and, of course, my son's. She had been so strong but so compassionate. Even now, I remember the warmth in her hands as she took my arm and lifted me to my feet when King Uther refused to help Ealdor. I don't know how she could possibly have done the things said of her. It makes me wonder if there was a time when the mad king had been a kind and compassionate youth like his daughter.
Gwen told me a little of what had happened to her mistress and friend, but it deepened the sadness in her kind, brown eyes. That poor girl had enough heartbreak to deal with; I would not increase her pain by talking of past sorrows.
Gwen was a hard worker and capable of the meanest task despite her upbringing as a lady's maid. She had a talent for sewing – her tiny, even stitches were a marvel to the other women in the village – but she did not blink at getting her hands filthy digging in the garden to plant vegetables or feeding pigs. I think keeping busy kept her from dwelling on the fall from grace that sent a serving maid who had been betrothed to a king scurrying from Camelot.
I did not pry into the truth behind the wild tales circulating about her, but I knew there was more behind her flight to Ealdor than banishment. Something had happened, something was about to happen, and Gwen knew. She wasn't telling the full tale but it involved a possible invasion and I feared for my son. Danger was looming again, so the sight of my beautiful boy's face was even more of a joy when I saw him alive and well.
It is unsettling when your baby boy can lift you off your feet with his hug. Despite the euphoria of our reunion and the threat of pursuit, I examined him closely. His face was more angular, his chest thicker, his arms more muscled. And his eyes held depths I could barely comprehend. He wasn't a boy any longer.
After the bustle of feeding their party – apparently they had not eaten since supper the day before – and tending to the wounded woman and injured king, we had a moment to talk. It was just the two of us, like it had been for so many years of his childhood.
He told me of Balinor. I knew he was keeping back details he probably thought would hurt me, but to know they had met, even briefly, released a pain I hadn't realized still occupied my heart. I never hoped for them to know each other because I knew it could never be. I remembered well how protective Balinor was, he would not have looked on my face as long as Uther was alive.
From bits and pieces that Merlin let slip in our brief conversation, I pieced together what an isolated life my dear Balinor had after our parting. As lonely as I had been without him, at least I had had our son and a village of companions. Things that had been denied to my man.
I will not speak ill of the dead, but I cannot mourn Uther's passing. Arthur will be twice the king his father ever was. I believe that in my soul, even though my only meeting with the mad king had shown me a wise ruler who seemed truly to regret not assisting my village. I can credit him that much, and for the son he raised. For all his faults, Uther played a part in who Arthur was today, just as I played a part in the man Merlin was.
When my boy and his companions were forced to flee into the dark, for a moment I felt transported back to that night when the mad king's soldiers descended on our village. But as soon as Arthur's party were spotted, the barbarians with their torches followed them to the tunnels and left us be.
I saw the dragon flame from the village. The others screamed in fear, more terrified than they had been when the barbarians marched through, but I laughed. I laughed to know that great creature was free. It would not hurt my son, it would protect him. My only worry was whether I would have the chance to look on my boy's face again in this life, or if events were taking him so high above me I would not see him again.