The mistakes we make
Part 2
Silence.
Merlin would never have said it because he simply didn't think of himself that way but in many aspects he was a philosopher. And he often found himself thinking... philosophising... about silence.
There was the wonderful comfortable silence between two lovers who had known each other for many years.
There was the glorious silence of a quiet morning lying in bed when you had nowhere in particular to be.
There was the falling pit of silence when you were a child and your mother was very angry at you (even if the other boy did really truly deserve to be pushed into the stream).
Silence, Merlin had realised, was to do with people only. You could be surrounded by sound and the silence could be deafening. Silence was not the absence of bird songs or rustling foraging animals or the wind howling in tall trees. Silence was not straining to hear a wolf's cry or the loping crunching gait of a larger animal.
Silence was about the people around us. Silence was the absence of voices.
This was silence.
They'd ridden as far as they could before darkness and the late hour forced them to strike a small camp for the night. They had forgone a fire, wolfed down camp rations, and snatched a few broken hours of sleep before forcing tired muscles onto horses and riding again. They had been travelling for several hours before the sun's wan autumnal rays had even managed to pierce through the gloom of the trees.
They rode with a kind of clichéd grim determination; their minds seemingly intent on achieving their task and not bothered with pointless conversation or with the other man riding beside him.
Arthur had not spoken a word apart from a few grunted commands the previous evening about the horses.
Merlin waited, the silence beginning to grow and take shape around him as a kind of dense miasmal blanket of soundless fog. He began to grow tense with the pointedness of the nothing that Arthur was sending in his direction.
He had delayed forcing the conversation himself. He wanted to wait till Arthur was ready to speak. But now the quiet had extended itself until it seemed impenetrable. Merlin had to remind himself that it didn't really exist: it was just a product of his over-active mind and exhausted body.
Finally he pulled his horse up short in front of his Prince and turned to confront him. Passelande shied and the Prince had to pull tightly on its reigns to stop it from spilling him off.
"Gods, Merlin. Idiot! What do you think you're doing?"
"If you're going to yell at me, Arthur, then just yell at me. It's been bad enough fighting with Morgana over the last few weeks. I can't stand this... endless silence... from you as well."
"I can't yell at you, Merlin," said Arthur, clearing enunciating each word as though they were wild horses he had to control tightly. "I'm too mad."
"Look, so much has happened since we met. I couldn't tell you everything."
"No, you could, Merlin, You definitely could. In fact, if I remember correctly, when I found out about your magic, you made a commitment to tell me everything."
"The abridged version, Arthur," protested Merlin, "You asked for the abridged version."
"Well, Lord knows I'm no scholar or philosophiser, Merlin, and sometimes I've been known to take a while to work things out but don't you think, just maybe, that in the abridged version of really really important things that have happened in the last few years, that you probably should have mentioned the gigantic fucking dragon in the basement."
"I thought you said you were too angry to yell at me," said Merlin with a grin, hoping to lighten the mood. He saw the clenched twitching muscles in Arthur's jaw and dragged a serious expression back onto his face.
"Look, Arthur," he began penitently; "I just assumed you knew. Your father didn't make any secret of the fact he'd captured the dragon... at least he didn't when he made the capture... admittedly, you were about two years old at the time so... but it's all documented..."
"Where is it documented?" demanded Arthur.
"In Geoffrey's archives," said Merlin.
"You mean the ones under lock and key that only you, Geoffrey and Gaius have access to?"
Merlin looked offended at that. "Any member of the monarchy or the ruling council can request information from the archives and we have an obligation to give an accurate and comprehensive account of that information when we report it to..."
"I know the law, Merlin!" shouted Arthur angrily, "I know the law because, in case you've forgotten, this is my Kingdom! And I can't request information if I don't know it exists."
Merlin looked lost for a moment then drew a deep breath and said sadly, "Arthur, you'd only just found out about my magic. If I told you the dragon was there... I was worried you might try to do something stupid. He's a powerful magical being and, possibly, dangerous and... I was worried that you may not trust me anymore."
Arthur kicked Passelande forward and drew up beside Merlin so he could look straight into his eyes. He lowered his voice for impact and said calmly, "When we get back, Merlin, you are telling me everything. And I mean, everything."
Merlin simply shook his head. "No, I won't."
"What?" growled Arthur.
"I said I won't. I keep too many secrets, Arthur, some for your own good and some for the good of Camelot. Some I keep for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with you.
"I'm not a gangly teenager anymore desperate to have your approval. I am your advisor and your friend and... your equal. If I keep secrets, I keep them for a reason. And I'm not revealing them just because you demand it. You'll find them out if and when I believe that telling you is the best course of action."
"And this dragon that is now decimating my Kingdom?" demanded Arthur, "Where does that fit into Merlin's 'need-to-know' decision-making process?"
He was still angry but a flicker of respect had moved across his face at Merlin's stance. Pendragons had always admired strength.
Merlin turned his horse toward their destination again and spurred it into a trot. Arthur mirrored the action and the two began their journey again, the icy silence broken by the steamy debate.
"The dragon wants to be free," explained Merlin, "Of course it does. So would any of us. But it is restrained by an enchanted chain. As long as it was isolated and no one knew about it, it couldn't manipulate anybody into freeing it."
"If you're suggesting that I could be manipulated by some lizard, Merlin, then I..."
"Not a lizard, Arthur. A one-thousand-year-old talking dragon with magical powers and yes, I think he's very good at manipulating just about anybody. I nearly set him free myself."
"What? Why?"
"Do you remember when I told you about Sigan and how I used that spell to put his... essence... back into the crystal?"
"Yes, of course."
"That spell came from the dragon. His price was his freedom. I was desperate and... I nearly made the bargain... but I..."
"But what?" asked Arthur, fascinated despite himself.
"He gave me this look. His mask slipped, just for a moment, and I saw this extraordinary eagerness, this engulfing hungry greed. I told him that I would release him... after you were King and magic had been returned to this land. He was angry, so angry. I realised that revenge on Uther was something he'd been clinging to.... like a piece of flotsam in a raging river. It was all he had. If I'd agreed to release him..."
"So how did he get free after all these years?" asked Arthur.
Merlin paused for a moment. "He must have found a way. I find it unlikely that there was anybody in Camelot with the ability to free him. I could have..." he paused again, "Morgana could have. But we weren't there."
Arthur just nodded and Merlin took a small breath of relief that he'd accepted his word that Morgana couldn't be involved.
They rode for a while in a silence that was now more thoughtful and companionable until Arthur stopped the horse suddenly. Merlin pulled up his reigns to force his mount back to his Prince.
"Arthur?" he queried the other man.
Arthur gave him another confused and angry look.
"What the hell do you mean your father is a Dragonlord?"
