When Merlin goes on a patrol I always find myself worrying for him far more than is sensible. Albion was then an unstable kingdom, far from the Golden Age that had been so glorious, that I had heard about so many times. This Age seemed almost mythical now; I could hardly believe that there had been a time but months ago when the throne had been secure, the rulers peaceful, the people happy and safe, the outlying territory free from threat. Now, however, security was threatened by a single man on the borders; for some reason this required a good number of knights to sort out.
I watched them go from the window of Juliana's room, for she was busy tuning the harp so that I could play it. A sea of red cloaks fluttered in the courtyard: nine or ten knights were mounting their horses, and Merlin was helping Arthur onto his. I was surprised to see Mordred among the more illustrious and long-serving men in this company; I recalled what Merlin had told me a few days ago about Arthur greatly praising Mordred's ability as a knight. Merlin had been scathing, jealous perhaps; I had tried to hide the fact that I no longer wanted to speak against the poor man.
'I hope they all return safely,' Juliana murmured; she had evidently been thinking on the matter herself. This was curious: she was not often concerned with things other than music.
'They are going against a man with powerful magic...' This patrol had resulted from an incident not long earlier in which a knight – Sir Ranulf, I thought his name was – had been killed by this man who was now sought.
'Camelot will succeed,' said Juliana, smiling vaguely. She was always far too confident in our side's abilities to win at any battle. 'Listen to this. I composed a new song yesterday; I thought you might like to learn it...'
The patrol galloped back into Camelot with the pounding eagerness that always betrayed success. I ran down to greet Merlin; he smiled vaguely, not quite meeting my eyes, and glanced at Mordred when he thought I wasn't looking.
I helped Merlin once again with Arthur's things, by now carrying out the task without really thinking. But Merlin did not talk to me as he usually did, instead remaining deep in thought. I knew not to disturb him whilst he was in such a mood, and let him go off after Arthur when he was finished without asking him what he was doing.
I walked more slowly up to the steps of the castle, suddenly finding myself hugely curious as to what might have happened. I turned to see if one of my friends among the knights was there to ask; I swallowed when I saw that the last man left in the market-square was Mordred. Quickly I made to turn away and go back inside, but his eyes met mine and a mysterious smile came to his face before he called out, 'Hullo, Ganieda,' in normal and friendly tones.
Despite myself I called out 'Hullo,' back. He handed the reins of his horse to a servant and paced over to me before I could escape.
'What's wrong with Merlin?' he asked casually.
'I was hoping you might be able to tell me,' I said quietly, making my way back into the castle. He dogged my footsteps, falling silent for an awkward few moments before I changed the subject: 'How was the patrol?' I didn't want the answer from Mordred, but there was nobody else to ask and I wanted to know.
He furrowed his brow. 'We caught up with that man Osgar and Gwaine dealt him a mortal blow. Osgar said something about passing judgment on Arthur; I think he gave some sort of coin or amulet to Arthur. You would have to ask him about it.' He looked a little worried. 'Anyway, we all survived, thank heavens. Gwaine was wounded, but it was fine. Your brother healed him.'
I nodded, wondering whether it had been Merlin's physician skills (which were now really rather good) or just a simple spell that had healed Gwaine. 'Anyway,' I said as we came to the branch in the corridor that separated Gaius's quarters from those of the knights, 'goodbye, Mordred.'
'See you later.'
He smiled at me – a true smile, the handsome smile that I had seen so much now that Mordred was settled in Camelot. Then he set off to his own rooms, and I went to mine, thinking on this smile: a smile I liked, one that revealed how happy he was in Camelot – because he was, he loved the city, he had made friends here (I wondered if he had ever had friends before in his lonely existence as the servant of Morgana), he was at home and comfortable. I wanted to like him – but still I mistrusted him and feared him because of the influence of Merlin.
The influence of my damned mistaken brother! Why did I listen to him?...
The trinket that had been given to Arthur turned out to be rather more important even than anyone had at first thought. Gaius called it a Runemark, and it was a token of the Disir: by this he meant that Arthur's life lay on a die, and a bad roll would prove fatal should the gods decree it. I do not truly understand the matter; but I knew that something had transpired between the man Osgar and our king that meant that something could go horribly and catastrophically wrong if Arthur made a false move: he was being judged, and he must voyage to receive that judgment, risking his life for a chance encounter and a coin. My head whirled when Merlin explained this to me; I wanted to help, but saw no way of doing so; I wondered what would happen; I did not quite comprehend the magnitude of the matter – I understood then more than ever why Juliana let herself be captivated so by music, and did not involve herself in the strange and terrifying goings-on in the real world.
The upshot of it all was that Arthur had to leave again but days later to face this judgment; he selected his bravest knights to go with him – Gwaine, Percival and the usual crowd, but also Mordred once again; and Merlin would as ever be at his side. I wanted to go, for some reason, disliking having to stay in Camelot when so many lives were at stake, when my own brother was in danger; but I could not go, and instead found myself finding solace in playing music, comprehending now the bizarre character of my friend Juliana.
They did not return eagerly this time, but they still galloped, bringing bad tidings through the gate and up the main street. Once again I hurried down to the courtyard before the castle, and was overwhelmingly relieved when I saw Merlin, unharmed, upon his horse; I ran to him and embraced him wordlessly as he jumped to the ground; but then I saw what was occupying the other men: the limp form of Mordred.
I had now seen him dying twice, and this second time made my stomach lurch. His face was sickening, pale and sweaty; his hand hung motionlessly from his body, over the stretcher that was brought for him from the castle. As I watched the knights carry him inside I felt ill; I asked Merlin in a shaky voice what had happened.
'We approached the Disir to ask about Arthur's judgment, and they said that he should embrace the Old Religion.' Merlin spoke in a low voice, leading me towards the stables as he talked. 'But Arthur refused, of course, and the Disir attacked us. Mordred was wounded, perhaps mortally.'
'Mortally!' I echoed, unable to restrain the gasp that leapt up my throat.
'And now Arthur wants to go back and bargain for Mordred's life.' Merlin shouldered the armour that he had been taking from Arthur's horse and groaned. 'I can't let him! If we are to stop the vision coming true... we must let Mordred die.'
'Merlin, that's horrible!' I could not help but cry.
He looked at me strangely. 'If Arthur is to live, Mordred must die. It's simple. And it must happen.'
'Must it?'
'What does it matter to you?'
'Nothing...' I lied; but horrified by Merlin's attitude towards poor Mordred's situation, I made some excuse and hurried from the stable, wavering between going to see if Mordred could be healed and going to lose myself in music.
I decided on the former, and entered Gaius's quarters to find the physician and the king standing over the patient's bed, on which Mordred lay unmoving; I feared the worst for a horrid second as I came in, but saw that Gaius's face was grimly hopeful and the King's determined.
'I shall set out tomorrow,' Arthur said. 'And please, Gaius, do anything you can for him, won't you? He saved my life – he saved my life for a second time – I can't let him die.'
He swung from the room, briefly greeting me before disappearing into the corridor beyond. I closed the door, and then asked Gaius, 'Can you not heal him?'
Gaius sighed. 'If only I could. But it is a magical wound. I fear that the only person who can heal him is Merlin.'
'Merlin!' I said. 'But he will do nothing for Mordred. They are bitter enemies.'
'I know...' murmured Gaius, his face wrought. I went and took his hand in mine, trying to be reassuring, but he as well as I knew that we could at this point be assured of nothing. If Merlin did not agree to his task – Mordred would die.
And since that Merlin would never agree to it –
I looked down at the Mordred's prone form, his eyes closed lightly but moving a little beneath their lids, his mouth grim and set, his skin pale and clammy; he was on the edge, and it wouldn't be long before he fell –
