Chapter 21 – Olea europaea

Images swirled inside Iellwen's mind. They flowed and then shuddered, flowed and then shuddered. Knights and ladies turned through her vision, the vibrant colours of their dress drawing her attention from babble of voices that lay in thick layers over their dance. What was she supposed to be seeing? The faces of the dancers appear blurred and distorted as if she were seeing them through frosted glass. She could feel a sense of them but their identities remained a mystery as one by one they dropped to floor. Were they dead? Murdered? Or were they sleeping?

The colours swirled and merged until all that was left was the dirty cream of swaddling bands that covered the body of a wriggling infant. His face, unlike all of the other images, was crystal clear and she knew in an instant who he was. But before she had a chance to properly study his features the dancers returned. The vision juddered and she caught a glimpse of home, the carved wood, running water and glittering sunlight. The knights and ladies danced in slow disjointed movements now, like puppets on string.

Someone called her name. She saw herself standing sky clad and Merlin stood before her. They disappeared as quickly as they had appeared and she saw the baby once more, this time several months older and in a woman's arms. The dancers wore all red now. Was it dye or was it blood? Battle raged. The baby was a man. He bore a sword and the Pendragon arms. A girl similar in features stood beside him. The courtiers returned, running not dancing. She and Merlin embraced and the baby cried. A knife flashed. Arthur. Not Arthur. She heard her name again, clearer this time. The vision was further away. The images flowed and then shuddered, flowed and then shudder. Then they stopped.

XXX

"How is she?" The sound of Arthur's voice made Merlin jump and he sat bolt upright in his chair beside the bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked to his king.

"Better, just sleeping now." he replied.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said. The comment came out of nowhere. The candles flickered and he glanced at Iellwen. "I know how much you care for her. But it was exile or execution."

"No one need know. She could go back to being a servant," Merlin pleaded. Arthur sighed.

"I would if I could."

"But you can." They regarded each other carefully before Merlin turned back to Iellwen. "You could if you wanted to. You're the king."

Iellwen stirred and Merlin leant forward in his chair. He took her hand as he called her name and she turned to him. He called her name again. Her eyes opened slowly. She moved her lips as if trying to speak but made no noise. She looked worryingly pale and sickly. She said a few words in Elvish. Even if he had known the language, Merlin doubted that he would have understood her. Her voice was hoarse and quiet. She spoke again in Elvish, more coherently this time. Merlin shook his head.

"Iellwen, I don't know what you're saying," he said gently. The priestess regarded him with bewilderment. Gaius stepped through the open doorway. She repeated her words to him.

"She is asking for the queen," the physician said.

Merlin frowned. "I thought you didn't know Elvish."

"I cannot read it, but I speak enough to understand simple phrases." Merlin stood and was about to step past Arthur when the king raised his hand.

"I will fetch her. You stay here," he said. Merlin nodded and returned to his seat. Iellwen didn't speak again until Gwen appeared at the door way. The priestess tried to sit up fully as the king and queen stopped at the end of the bed.

"Please," Gwen said with a small shake of the head, "There is no need."

"There is every need," Iellwen retorted quickly. Her voice was quiet and Merlin had to focus to be able to properly hear her. "I am sorry to have disturbed you at such an hour." Gwen pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and shrugged slightly.

"Why did you want to see me?"

"What you suspect – it is true," Iellwen said. Gwen studied the elf's face intently with a cross between suspicion and hope playing across her own.

"What did you see?" This time it was the queen's voice that Merlin found difficult to hear. Arthur reached out and touched his wife's arm. She didn't even acknowledge him as she continued to stare at Iellwen.

"I-" The priestess covered her mouth coughed violently. Merlin offered her water but it was quickly declined. He could see blood on her lips. Gaius, who was stood silently in the shadows did not move and so Merlin stood back. "I saw a child brought to birth this spring in Camelot," Iellwen said carefully. Gwen's hand clutched her husband's shirt but she didn't move her gaze. "One to continue the Pendragon blood line."

"I thought – I thought perhaps it was nerves."

Iellwen shook her head, "You felt the first quickening. The child dances inside you." Gwen turned to Arthur with her hand over her mouth. The king couldn't supress his smile as they embraced fiercely. Merlin turned his back on them as he pressed on.

"What else did you see?" he said as he sat back at Iellwen's bedside. She looked to him from the queen. The startling green of her eyes took his breath away.

"I saw murder."

XXX

The banquet hall was filled with what seemed like a hundred courtiers. Vibrant fabrics and bright lights created an explosion of colour that pulsed and swirled as some danced and others mingled. The tables had been cleared of food and pushed outwards against the walls and were now covered in a wide array of drinks ranging from bog-standard ale to a spirit apparently named dragon-fire. The doors had only been thrown open a few hours ago and yet there seemed not to be a sober person present. King Arthur's birth anniversary celebration was always the event of the year in Camelot. Usually it was a welcome distraction from affairs of court. This year, however, was different. This year there was to be a murder.

Gwen and Arthur were in a joyful bubble of their own. They stood at the edge of the celebrations and spoke to each other in hushed, excited voices. Merlin smiled as he watched. They had been struggling through their previous loss, both terrified that it marked the end of the Pendragon line. Now looking at them it was hard to believe that that was less than a year ago. He admired their strength. Merlin felt a presence beside him and he turned to see Gwaine stood there with a tankard of mead in his hand.

"Anything?" Gwaine asked him, not taking his eyes from the crowd. Merlin shook his head and realising that the knight couldn't see him he replied.

"Nothing yet."

"Has she said anything else?"

"No," Merlin said, "All she saw was the knife and the blood." Gwaine huffed discontentedly at his side.

"What good is the Sight if she can't see anything useful?" he muttered in annoyance. He took a swig of mead as he scanned the crowd with untrusting eyes.

"Without her vision we would have nothing in the first place," Merlin retorted defensively. "She can only see what she is shown." The knight grunted his agreement.

As he put his tankard on the table behind them, Ragnelle appeared through the crowd.

"Are you going to evade me all evening?" she said reproachfully.

"I'm not evading you," Gwaine replied. His wife raised an eyebrow.

"Twice I have been cornered by Sir Bedwyr's wife and her insufferable sister and twice you have failed to rescue me from their grip."

"I-"

"No. I am only here to inform you that I no longer require your services as my lord protector," she looked to the young manservant and continued. "Merlin will be my guardian. Isn't that right, Merlin?"

"My lady, I have no doubt that you are perfectly capable of fending off the witless without my help," Merlin answered good-humouredly. With a quick glare at his friend, Gwaine turned and picked up a fresh tankard.

"Are you enjoying the festivities?" Ragnelle asked Merlin as she suppressed at small laugh at her husband's expense.

Merlin nodded. "Of course," he replied. "How is Florence?"

"Noisy," Gwaine said mid-swallow, "demanding, always hungry."

"Like father, like daughter," Ragnelle murmured from behind her glass. Her husband feigned being winded with a sharp gasp.

"We are completely different," he protested.

"Hm, yes, the difference being that she can't help it."

They were so absorbed in their laughter that it took them several seconds to register the bloodcurdling scream that broke through the music and voices. All fell silent. The knights drew their swords. Merlin followed Gwaine's horrified gaze until it met the king. Arthur stood frozen, arms held out to his sides as if balancing himself and his eyes fixed firmly on Gwen as she reluctantly backed away. The blade flashed in the candlelight as it was pressed to Arthur's throat. Merlin didn't recognise the man who held it, but it didn't matter. The warlock glanced around the room, looking for options as Arthur spoke.

"Who are you?"

"I want the key," the man snapped viciously. The panic in his voice struck Merlin as odd. The man's eyes darted about the room frantically. He knew he wasn't getting out of this situation alive.

"What key?" Arthur asked slowly.

"You know what key." The knife was pressed closer to the king's throat. "Don't play games. I know you're playing games with me." The blade shook violently in the man's hand.

"I'm not," the king replied. "I'm not playing any games. Please, tell me what key you want."

"The key to the staff."

Arthur raised his arms in exasperation, "What staff? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar!" the man screeched at the top of his lungs. "Give it to me!"

The man suddenly cried out in pain. He dropped his knife and Arthur spun around to face him. He fell to the floor with a groan and as he did he revealed the woman standing behind him, a bloody dagger in her hand. It was Iellwen. She breathed heavily as they watched the man on the ground take his last breaths. His blood spread until it reached the gaps in the stonework. It followed the crevasses and crept outwards creating a web-like pattern on the floor. He twitched briefly and his lungs rattled.

No one spoke.

XXX

Arthur and Iellwen sat in front of the fire. She adjusted the shawl that she wore as they watched the flames dance in the fireplace.

"I owe you my life," Arthur said gently, "Again."

"What is that – the second time?"

Arthur laughed softly. "I think it may be more than that."

Iellwen shrugged. "It is my duty. You owe me nothing."

Arthur studied the elf carefully as he twirled the goblet in his hand.

"You know, the more I learn about your people the more intrigued I become."

"How so?"

"It occurred to me that a friendship, perhaps even an allegiance, between our races would be mutually beneficial," he suggested. Iellwen raised an eyebrow. "You disagree."

"No, I don't disagree," she said with a shake of her head, "I only question whether our people would be as keen." Arthur regarded her with a questioning tilt of the head. "You forget that when your father outlawed the practice of Magic he also ordered the execution of not only myself but my entire race. The threat of genocide is not commonly used as a foundation for friendship. It is a relationship that may take years or even decades to heal."

"Then we will take it one step at a time," Arthur said. "We start with an olive branch."