The next morning came and Merlin was ready for facing the new Lord of Dun Tagell. He forbade Mab any leaving of the barn, which had been quite dispensable, for Mab was still in no condition of running around. She wouldn't get far, that she knew by herself already, being exhausted after putting herself up in an upright sitting position. Nevertheless Merlin didn't want her to get anywhere near the infected villagers. He couldn't imagine if she was vulnerable to the disease or not – cause she had been on the brink of death for too long now. He wouldn't risk anything. So ignoring her protests he left early in the morning. Passing through the village he saw some men carrying another dead body to the burial ground. Maybe coming here had not been my brightest idea, he thought.
The way to the fortress was not the easiest one. The castle, built on an old Roman fort, was partly on an island situated in a bay and only connected with the shore through a small passageway. But to reach those gates Merlin had to climb numerous steep stairs. Only a fool would try to lay siege on a fortress like that, he thought thinking of Uther and his particular foolishness.
When he passed the gates he shortly nodded to the guards, who seemed to recognize him. Inside the court yard he observed some young knights practicing their fighting skills. Three were attacking one young lad at once. But without any difficulties he managed to parry their moves. His long red hair was swirling through the air every time he made swift turn to block one of the swords aimed at him.
Merlin was fascinated by the fact how agile and gifted the young knight was fighting. The lad was actually far better than Arthur ever had been. Maybe he was not as strong as Mordred, but his techniques proved him being indeed a fighter worthy of the round table. Only that the round table wasn't anymore. Neither were Arthur and Mordred.
At least there still is Mab, he thought. Anyway he wasn't sure if his decision at the burning castle had been the right one. He didn't even know if he still was hating her, he couldn't be her friend, could he?
No he had not yet forgiven her, but at least I have her under my control, he thought. As long as she would be in this state she couldn't pose a danger to anyone and by keeping her with him he could make sure, that she never would be in future. Actually this infuriating witch could give his current life a purpose now. This would keep him from feeling depressed and lonely.
"Sir, may I help you?", a voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Sir?"
Merlin looked up and noticed the young fighter he had been watching before him. "Oh, well yes perhaps you can.", he finally answered. "I need to speak to the master of this castle – King Marc."
"There you have chosen a nearly impossible task for my uncle is very busy.", the young one said.
"So you are …."
"I'm Tristram, son of Conomor.", the lad replied proudly, "But I and my half-brother Custeninn have been raised by our uncle after father's death."
"So young Tristram, I know your uncle has problems with pillagers from oversea, but would you still be so kind and furnish him information?"
"Of course Sir, what shall I tell him?"
"Tell him Merlin, former counselor of King Arthur, wishes to speak with him."
The eyes of the young warrior widened in surprise. And the little freckles began dancing on his cheeks in excitement.
"You are Merlin? THE Merlin? The wizard?", he called.
Modestly Merlin said; "Well if you like to call me that, I probably am."
The young knight was startled by this revelation. Of course he had grown up with the stories of the round table dreaming that one day he could join those knights too.
"I will lead to you to my uncle immediately, master Merlin!", was his eager reply. "Just follow me."
Thus he sped forward, and Merlin had his trouble in keeping up with him. "Wait, wait", he called, "why is it that after your training you are still that full of energy?"
Tristram was laughing at this, "I don't know what you mean, that was nothing at all, just a nice warm up."
Merlin felt old. Of course he was old indeed, but he didn't age like normal people, that were mortal, did or he would already be a hoary geezer.
And now after many years for the first time he was feeling very old.
"Well you are a capable fighter, that I could see.", Merlin mentioned instead.
The young knight blushed at this and his pale face became slightly pink. "Don't say that my Sir."
"But I mean it", Merlin replied, "I bet you'd beat any intruder or champion from Hibernia sent to Cornwall."
Tristram was frowning at that remark but said not a word. Maybe the insight of this wizard had sparked an idea in this young mind.
The boy led Merlin directly to King Marc who after knowing the wizards reputation was glad to give him an audience.
Mab meanwhile discovered the disadvantages of her new condition. Tiredness was the smaller evil. A strange gnawing feeling came from her stomach, another unpleasant feeling from her lower body. Every time she tried to get up, the whole world seemed to seesaw and after a few steps her knees gave in. Crawling was easier, but she hoped nobody would see her like this. She felt bitter, how unworthy of her, crawling like a beast.
Yes it was, she thought. Knowing the meaning of the word unworthy, something Mordred and Morgan never had understood. But her poor Mordred how should he have known?
She had never taught him. And now he was gone. Tears filled her eyes again. So she added another very unworthy action to the crawling and the feeling of hunger – she began crying. Not making any further attempts of trying to stand up or leaving the barn, she just sat there and cried.
"What prominence do we have here in our little fort?", the King was joking. Raising his hands in a placatory gesture, he continued; "I know you used to dwell here in Dun Tagell, in times of Morgan Le Fay and her son Mordred - be our guest again, Merlin."
It astonished Merlin to hear, that even after the recent events he was greeted by hospitability. And even now nearly a half year after Arthur's dead he still was welcome and known amongst some.
"I'm surprised, to see a Cornish King on the throne of Kernow so shortly after Mordreds demise.", Merlin said.
"Oh my family never left indeed.", the king stated. "We always have been the leaders of the Dumnonii, even though Mordred took Tintagel, my brother Cado and our cousin Geraint stayed and reigned the region on Castle Dore." He led Merlin over to the other wall.
There was a hand painted map on the wall. It showed the British Island and the territories of the old kingdoms before Arthur had united them.
"Interesting indeed.", Merlin murmured studying the map. "I heard of a Constantine of Cornwall who is trying to become high king now.", the wizard stated. "Yes my nephew, Custeninn, has high ambitions, but I don't approve of those."
King Marc grimly turned and poured himself a goblet of wine. "You mean the throne of Britain wouldn't appeal to you?"
"No, I'm bound to Kernow with all my heart, and only to Kernow."
He poured another goblet of wine and handed it to Merlin. For a moment nobody of them said a word. Merlin drank the sweet wine. Then the kings voice started to sing.
"Where the Gorse and Foxgloves dance and sway upon the rolling moors; and the sea wind blows her emerald kiss from north to southern shore; where a Song of Stone sings out in-tune to Transatlanic waves, If I could but hear that song again, my soul it would be saved."
Merlin was moved by the king's sudden confession of devotion for his home land. He wished that he himself could feel likewise, but he had never felt homelike anywhere, anywhere but in two places. First had been his and Ambrosias hut and second had been Mab's realm.
But still Merlin had always felt torn between two worlds.
"Now you know, why it troubles me this much having to pay tribute to Diarmait mac Cerbaill, King of Tara and Hibernia."
"Is he the one sending pillagers to your coast?"
King Marc gave a firm nod.
Merlin understood. But that actually had not been his main concern to talk about. Politics seemed to get far too complicating for him now.
"Well you have another capable nephew - trust him with those matters!", he stated, "there are far more severe things just in front of your own doors."
"You mean the plague.", the kings voice was drained in sarcasm, "I guess as a wizard you bring us a solution?"
Merlin was stunned. "I .. aah … well I haven't really thought about one yet."
But King Marc only laughed humorlessly, "I didn't believe you to be that good, don't worry."
Now Merlin frowned, unsure what to make of this.
"Oh, no offense by that", Marc said, "I just don't believe, that you could stop a plague devastating the whole country."
These news were a shock to Merlin.
"Sorry, did you say the whole country?"
"Well messengers have arrived from the Durrotriges and from Demetia, it is only a matter of time."
That was not a good sign. Merlin wondered if it would be better if he left the cities. Plagues were never reaching the woods and wilderness he guessed. But what of the people?
"Don't worry master Merlin", the king said anticipating Merlin's thoughts, "we will do what is in our best, it is not your job to save our people"
"But what will you do?"
"I will probably order the construction of a new monastery."
Merlin wasn't convinced at all, "But what use would that bring?"
He couldn't understand the blind beliefs of these Christians.
But Marc answered; "I'm not sure if that will ease the wrath of God, but it definitely will appease the people."
What else could Merlin say? There was nothing left he could do. Instead he bid his farewell to the king and took his leave. He decided to return to the barn. He had been gone long enough and he hoped his patient had not come to stupid ideas.
Before he could reach the barn, he was stopped by the old hag. "Young Sir, will you do me a favor?"
"Madam", he nodded.
"Will you take those two buckets and get us water?" her hands were shaking while reaching him the buckets.
"I want so put some fine stew upon my fire. You may have some of it later."
Merlin took the buckets, "of course Madam."
"You see my legs are not well today. I won't make it to the spring on Barras Head.", she explained, "and I don't like going down to the well in the village", she made a face as if she had eaten something sour, "people are talking too much."
"Yes they probably do.", Merlin said trying to ignore the lamenting of the old hag.
"Where is that Barras Head?", he asked.
"It is near the castle. Up the hill. Fine water is that. Keeps you young."
He had heard enough. After ensuring the old woman that he would immediately return with two buckets of water, he took off. He definitely wouldn't repeat the way up to the castle just for getting some water. The well was nearer, and he didn't care about talking people.
So when he approached the village's well he did prepare those buckets with ropes. Just when he began settling down the first one into the duct, he heard someone clearing his throat.
"I wouldn't recommend you taking that water."
When Merlin turned around, he saw his long time mentor Frik standing before him.
"Frik! So good to see you!", a smile spread on Merlin face, "What do you mean by that Frik?"
The gnome was grinning surreptitiously. "Well you see, there is one well here in the village, and nearly all villagers are infected by a strange disease… isn't that a coincidence?"
A horrible realization dawned on Merlin. The old hag seemed to be geting her water from somewhere else, and she wasn't ill yet. How could Frik know?
This couldn't be, he would never… Merlin shook his head in disbelief. "You are not telling me, that this well is poisoned?"
"I am only making a suggestion, but you get my point, Merlin."
"But how can you know this, Frik?", Merlin was replied visibly alarmed.
But Frik just ignored his question.
Instead he asked; "How is our dear Mab?"
Something seemed wrong to Merlin, he felt the suspense now lingering in the air between them. He carefully chose his words.
"I would say she is quite the ordinary, if I knew it.", this indeed matched the truth, for he really didn't know how she was at the moment, but he also felt a strange resistance for giving Frik any further information.
"Well if I were you, I wouldn't run around with her in the public." Frik smirked at the speechless Merlin.
"You see someone could easily recognize her as the evil witch she really is."
Merlin's mouth opened widely in horror.
But Frik wasn't finished yet, "You know the people will be searching for a cause of their plague."
"You KNOW absolutely that is not true, Mab hasn't to do anything with that!"
Frik pulled his hands defensively in the air, "Well, well, it's just what people could believe, if they get the wrong tip from somewhere."
"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!", Merlin was upset.
No, he was raging. In his anger he stormed towards Frik, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and gave him a good shaking,
"You don't dare doing this!" The gnome didn't seem impressed.
"Tut-tut!, Merlin, why this sudden outburst? And just because of our enemy?", Frik asked innocently.
"Or did the little beast finally twist you around her fingers? I didn't expect you to ditch Nimue that lightheartedly. She must have sunken to a new low to have made you forget your only love"
SLAP!
Merlin's fist collided hardly with Frik's cheek.
The gnome moved his hand to his beaten face, cupping it, he smiled sadly.
"And I thought you to be one to have the strength to finally overcome the evils of this world. Then it will fall to us, to rid the world of her plight."
Before Merlin could answer to this, he heard a voice from behind. "What's going on over there?"
It was the old man from the burial ground. He held a lantern in one hand and looked most distrustfully over to them. Shit, was all Merlin could think. He just wanted to start explaining; when he looked around and saw that Frik was no longer there. He stood there alone with his buckets at the well.
"Sorry Sir, just an argument about the water.", he mumbled taking his buckets for a leave.
Now he finally knew he had to leave with Mab. Pacing to the spring uphill, he was brooding all the way about the new information he had just received. He hurried getting the water and on the way back his fear was increased. It already began to grow darker. Clouds were moving in the sky promising fresh rain. He regretted somehow that he had left Mab alone for the whole day.
He hurried and so he was quite exhausted when he got the water and made his way back into the village.
The first drops of rain began to fall, when he entered the court of their farmstead.