A Stranger's Gift
Chapter 14
Arthur and Gwen stroll hand in hand the early evening, along the ramparts directly overlooking the training fields. They pause and stand side by side, looking out over the countryside. The parapet is high enough above the ground that they are able to see the meadow outside the castle walls and the Darkling Woods beyond. The back door leading to the kitchens is just at the far end of the wall. Off to the left, in the distance, Gwen can just about make out the remnants of the towers of the ancient Temple of Aeru. Seeing them brings Merlin to her mind, and his frantic attempts to reach the sorceress to learn what she could tell him about dangers to Camelot. And what he learned from her was that the prophecy of Arthur's imminent death and a warning delivered that she knows Arthur will not heed. Merlin's only reward was his own banishment for the desperate use of the magic he had been born with to save himself and protect the woman.
She turns from the view and looks at her husband, her eyes troubled. "Do you think you'll ever be able to find him?" she asks.
Arthur had noticed where she had been gazing before she turned and faced him; he knows who she means. "I don't know, Guinevere." He drops her hand and rubs his eyes. "It's like he vanished. We can't find any sign of him." Arthur smiles at her ruefully. "I've even gone to speak to the old sorcerer, that Dragoon. You know, the one who pretended to enchant us."
"Really? You knew where he was?"
"Yeah, Merlin had shown me the way to his hut when my father was dying so I could seek his help to try to save his life." Arthur leans forward against the wall, hands splayed. He looks at the view with unseeing eyes, shoulders slumped. "I've been a hypocrite." He shakes his head. "Like my father."
"No, Arthur," Gwen challenges. "You're not your father."
Arthur looks at her gratefully for her staunch love, and shakes his head, looking away in shame. "I condemned magic, but was willing to use it when it suited me, asking that sorcerer to save my father's life." Bitterly. "We all know how that worked out." He takes a deep breath, swivels his head and raises his eyes to glance at his wife again. "But I sought him out again anyway."
"And was he able to help you?"
"Well, not to find Merlin, but he's made me think. A lot. About magic. And Merlin." Arthur looks at the ruined towers in the distance, a reminder of Merlin's efforts to hear the woman's warnings about danger to Camelot. "You were right, Guinevere, when you said that he always put Camelot first. He was extremely loyal."
"Yes. I miss him too."
"I just want to talk to him. To know what he's done. And understand why he did it. And to thank him."
"Arthur, I have a confession to make." She puts a hand on his arm, to capture his attention.
"About Merlin?"
"Sort of." She holds her breath, then lets it out slowly. "When I was under Morgana's spell, you know that I tried to poison you, right?"
"Yes. You told me." He takes her hand again, raising it to his lips and looking at her with forgiveness.
"What I didn't tell you is that I accused Merlin of the attempt. That's why he was arrested."
"Ah, Guinevere. It wasn't you; I know that. It was Morgana's power." Arthur puts his arms around her and pulls her close.
She looks up at him, and smiles. "After I was returned to myself, I was so grateful to Gaius for saving your life, that I really didn't question how it had happened," she confesses. "But I spoke to Gaius the other day about it. And to ask about Merlin."
"And?" Arthur leans back to be able to see her face.
"Gaius said it was Merlin who saved your life, not him. Merlin escaped from the cells where he was being held after his arrest, distracted the guards and the knights, and climbed the wall outside to get to your room!" She shakes her head in wonder. "He climbed a wall! You were so near death, Arthur. But he healed you." She rests her head on his shoulder, leaning into his embrace. "I tried to kill you, but Merlin's magic saved you."
"Magic can be good, can't it?" Arthur ruminates aloud. "Merlin always meant well."
"Isn't it time to lift the ban, Arthur?" Gwen asks. "Bring him home?"
Arthur leans back and looks at her. He nods slowly. "Yes. It's time," he thinks.
xXx
On his way back to his cottage, near Camelot's borders, Merlin makes many stops along the way. Close to home again, he visits a Druid village he'd not been to before, where he'd learned of an outbreak of sweating sickness. The villagers can hide in caves if needs must, but the people spend much of their time out of doors, families clustering around cook-fires and tents among the trees. Merlin's relaxed his appearance to his young self; he always feels safe among the Druids. He pulls up his horse at the edges of the settlement and dismounts, tying her to tree. He slings his medicine bag over his shoulder and walks toward a young man wielding an ax to fell a tree.
"Erm . . . ." he clears his throat.
Startled, the young Druid stills his ax mid-swing and turns to face Merlin. His eyes wide, he stammers, "Emrys! You weren't expected until tomorrow!"
Merlin nods in understanding. "I rushed here when I got your elder's message. It sounded serious. Can you take me to him?"
"Her." The boy shoulders his ax, and gestures for Merlin to follow him.
Walking behind the young Druid, Merlin looks around at the bustle of activity of the inhabitants going about their lives. He mourns that this kind of freedom from fear had been missing in Camelot for the long years of Uther's reign. And still is - although Arthur had declared that Druids would be given the respect they deserved, few felt safe enough to return to settle in Camelot's environs. He sees a heavyset woman approaching from the center of the village. A wild mop of curly grey hair, barely restrained by a blue scarf around her head, dances around her face as she half runs to greet Merlin, holding her faded brown skirts up and out of the way.
"Emrys," she pants, breathless from the exertion. "I'm grateful you came."
"I got your message. Where are the afflicted now?" Merlin asks the elder when he greets her.
"Just inside the caves. I'll show you." She leads Merlin to the cave entrance on the left, taking up a torch as they enter the dim cavern.
Merlin crouches down near a stricken woman, placing his hand on her forehead. She is cold and sweaty to the touch. "Can we have a tent set up, so we can bring them outside? They'll benefit from light and air, but should be kept apart from the rest of your community."
"What ails them?"
"It looks like the sweating sickness. Have others died?"
"Yes, too many," the elder responds, grief clearly expressed in her voice.
"I am sorry. It is a disease that usually takes its victims quickly. But if you give the patient lots of water to drink in a restorative brew and keep them warm, you can sometimes prevent the inevitable."
"You can set up there, Emrys, close to the stream," the Druid elder points to a small circle of stones indicating where a cook-fire would be placed. "What do you need for your treatments?"
"Is there a small tent that could be set up, for privacy for my patients? And some pallets?" he asks the elder. The elder nods, and looks behind him. Merlin senses a communication, though he's not privy to the content. He's always found the Druid telepathy a bit disconcerting when he experienced it, but appreciates its efficiency.
A teenaged boy appears and bows to Merlin, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robes. The elder gestures at the boy. "Arwen will serve you and find everything you need, Emrys." Merlin smiles at the boy and gives his instructions. Arwen gives another small bow, and dashes away to comply.
The Druid boy Arwen appears at the entrance to the cave. "A tent will be set up, Emrys, near the stream. I already have a fire going with water in a cauldron above it."
"Thanks, Arwen. I'd like to move these people to the tent when it's ready."
"I'll be a little while." The boy shuffles his feet nervously. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to go hear the magic teacher."
"A teacher of magic?" Merlin looks at him eagerly. "May I go with you?" At the boy's smile, the two cross the camp to a small gathering of children seated on the ground in front of a man in black. They sit quietly at the rear of the assembly.
The teacher is a balding man of middle years with piercing brown eyes in a round face sporting a wispy beard. He doesn't carry himself or dress like a Druid. The rings on index and little fingers flash in the sunlight as he illustrates a hand gesture to float a large feather. The children seated around him repeat the words, imitating his movements.
To the children's disappointment, after a few more illustrations, the teacher dismisses them. "We'll meet again, tomorrow. But now I wish to speak to Emrys."
Merlin is startled that the man knows who he is. He approaches the older man, who rises and bows to him with respect. "Please, don't," he says, self-conscious.
"My lord Emrys, my name is Salazar, but my friends call me Zar."
"I am Merlin, though the Druids call me Emrys." He smiles. "I'm still not sure why."
"I have heard talk of a Merlin in my recent travels." Zar looks at him in sharp appraisal. "You know the King of Camelot is searching for you."
Merlin looks down at his feet before raising grief-stricken eyes to look at Zar again. "I've been banished from the Kingdom as a magic-user. I cannot go back there, even if he wants me to. Anyway, I'm not sure he's ready to find me." Zar gestures to the tree stumps nearby. The two men sit.
"He may yet learn what he needs to understand."
"Until then, I must hide. Still."
"You may not have the time to wait, Emrys."
"Why do you say that?"
"Morgana amasses an army, allied with the Saxons. She means to invade from the north. Soon, I think."
"What else can you tell me?"
"That's all I've heard."
Merlin chews the bottom corner of his lip in agitation. There's nothing he can do now, but he will find a way to learn more. So he can help. Arthur will need him. He has to help. Morgana cannot win. He looks over to the stream to see Arwen and a few others erecting a tent. As soon as he can, he will leave.
"You're a good teacher," Merlin says to Zar.
"Thank you, Emrys, I appreciate the compliment. Especially from you."
"No, seriously. Have you ever thought of setting up a magical school?" Merlin asks, an idea forming.
"Magic is not welcome everywhere in the kingdoms," Zar points out.
"No, but the school need not be located here. It could be in a remote location and the students could travel there." Merlin's enthusiasm mounts as he talks. "Or it could be hidden in plain sight. When I was in Londinium some years ago, there was an abandoned castle nearby. A sorcerer had enchanted it so that it appeared to be a ruin to non-magical eyes. It might be possible to create such an enchantment to hide a school."
"Well," Zar admits, "a few fellow scholars and I have talked about a school, but a building to teach magic always felt that it would invite trouble. Your idea might work, if we could band together to create an enchantment strong enough. It just might work." He smiles broadly as he thinks of the possibilities.
Merlin nods, smiling again. He says, "If you can, travel to the Western Isles and seek out the court archivist, a man named Galapas, at the library in the capital. Magic is accepted in the Western Isles and he runs a school of magic. He would be helpful to you, I'm sure. He might remember me. I was there many years ago, and almost stayed there to study." *
"Why didn't you?"
"I had a, . . erm . . , a commitment in Camelot I couldn't escape. I've never regretted it before, but sometimes, lately. . . ." Merlin shrugs.
The two men sit in companionable silence for a few moments in the late afternoon sun, when a snake approaches Zar and lifts its head fixing its eyes on the teacher. Zar leans forward, elbows on his knees and looks at the snake, listening intently. He nods, and says something to it in an incomprehensible tongue. The snake bobs its head and slithers away into the tall grass.
He turns his head to face the younger man. "Are you ready to be found, Merlin?"
Merlin panics, shakes his head from side to side vehemently. "No." He gesticulates with an open hand, sketching a half loop in the air. "You know, that whole 'penalty of death' thing?"
"Well then, you'd better run, you clever boy." Zar indicates the caves behind them by a movement of his head. "A Camelot patrol is approaching. Hide. Hurry."
Merlin is gladdened that the Druids no longer fear the knights of Camelot, but he must run and hide in the caves, which are well hidden from the road and the clearing. Merlin stands just inside the entrance of a cave, hidden from view behind shrubbery. He is looking to see if he can recognize anyone from Camelot. He sees Percival, but none of the other knights and squires on the patrol are known to him. He draws back into the shelter of the cave to listen unseen to the conversation.
Percival reins in his horse as he nears the clearing, holding up his hand to halt the rest of the party. He sits relaxed in the saddle, looking around, his hands move in the open gesture of the unarmed. The Druid elder approaches him. "Welcome to our village. What brings you here, beyond the border from Camelot?"
"We are looking for a young man named Merlin," Percival says.
"Why do you seek this individual?"
"The King of Camelot wishes it."
"What has this young man done?"
"That's the King's business," Percival asserts.
"Yes, perhaps. But in Camelot. Not here." The elder shrugs, then shakes her grey curls in denial.
"The King wishes only to speak with him."
"I know of no such young man from Camelot." The Druid elder opens her arms in a gesture to Percival to indicate an invitation to enter the village.
Percival shakes his head, and turns back to mount his horse. "If you learn anything of Merlin, would you send word to Camelot?"
"If I meet this Merlin of Camelot, I will make sure your message is conveyed."
Percival signals the others to ride out. They wheel their horses and trot them back to the road through the trees, heading back to the border for Camelot.
Zar hasn't moved from his seat where he watched and listened to this exchange. "They've gone," he calls out.
Merlin emerges cautiously from the cave. "Thank you," he conveys to the Druid elder.
"You had to be protected, Emrys," he hears back as he takes his seat again next to Zar.
"You can speak to snakes," he says to Zar.
"Yes." The older man shrugs.
"Are you also a Dragonlord?"
Zar shakes his head ruefully. "There aren't any dragons anymore, so what's the point?" Merlin doesn't answer, and Zar continues speaking. "But my grandfather was a Dragonlord. My mother was his only child, so his skill died with him. I inherited only a vestige of his powers through her, I think."
Arwen steps up to the two men and bobs his head at Merlin. "Emrys, the tent is ready," he says.
Merlin rises quickly, and, with a nod to Zar, follows the boy.
*A/N: See "Destiny's Choice" by Nantasyland for the backstory.