Over the following weeks, the course of events erased the story of Morgana's cat from my thoughts. I kept an eye on Arthur, getting to know him better and better with each passing day, and although I occasionally found myself looking for the anthill, I saw an undeniable good in him, definitely worth protecting. My earlier suspicions seemed absurd and I didn't feel the slightest need to revisit the matter. It came back on its own, on one sultry August afternoon, at a time when Arthur had already informally taken over all royal duties.
Taking advantage of my free time, I went to a small grove behind the training grounds. In the summer, girls (mainly servants) often hid there to admire the knights in training and to eat apples from three apple trees, apparently written off for some reason. I never noticed a gardener tending them, nor did anyone pick the fruit in any organised way. Gwen claimed it was because they were sour and wormy, but I couldn't agree. They were some of the sweetest and juiciest I have ever eaten. Gwen's opinion was not shared by the kitchen maids, who stuffed their apron pockets with them and very indiscreetly snuck past the knights, probably hoping that Gwaine would catch one and demand a passage fee, which, to everyone's delight, he sometimes did.
Now, however, there were neither knights nor girls - the tiring weather had chased everyone into the pleasantly cool castle. But there was no shortage of apples. I picked perhaps a dozen from the ground and was about to leave when suddenly something dripped on my head. I looked up, hoping that it was finally starting to rain. Although I have the ability to influence the weather, I waited for the rain along with the others, exercising patience and humility, taming the temptation to use my gift wherever I can and violently bending reality to my will. Initially, after discovering this ability, I entertained myself at my best, mindlessly playing with powerful forces. Most often, I caused a downpour when Arthur went hunting. Fortunately, Gaius eventually knocked my wits back into place, and quite literally, for when he caught on, he slapped me with a book treating the elements, and then made me read one chapter every day, which I had to summarise for him in the evening. I quickly grasped that shifting the smallest cloud can have far-reaching consequences, and from then on I very rarely allow myself to tamper with it.
The sky clouded over, but it was not from the sky that a few more drops fell. High up on the branch of one of the apple trees hung a dead cat. Blood was oozing from its muzzle. For a moment I stood as if paralysed, staring at this macabre sight. I had seen terrible things in my life, done terrible things, but death, incessantly rumbling its scythe at the gates of Camelot, had never become for me a companion to whose presence I could become fully accustomed, which I could begin to ignore. Even if it was a mere cat.
An unpleasantly warm wind blew, the trees around me rustled, as if with anxiety, and the twittering flock of starlings fell completely silent. I realised that I was holding my breath. I took two steps forward, reached out and carefully touched the mossy trunk. The apple tree was old, a little stooped, about forty feet high. The other two looked like daughters next to it. Then again, maybe they did.
I moved my fingertips over the long scar left by the lightning strike. Something sinister surged through me until a shudder shook me. I couldn't tell if it was some subtle kind of dark magic or the shadow of a recent, cruel death, but whatever it was, I decided I should look into it. Besides, the poor animal needs to be taken down so someone doesn't get spooked, as Gwen once did. The similarity of the situation to the one described by Arthur, was shocking. Even the colour of the cat matched. And the red strip of cloth that snagged on a branch and formed a deadly noose around its neck.
I placed the bag of apples on the grass and began to climb; deftly, without fear, almost as if I were climbing a ladder. I placed my feet firmly, finding suitably strong branches without difficulty. The cat's body swung above me, like some monstrous toy above a child's cot. The scarf clamped around its neck stung red in my eyes. I wanted to rip it off as quickly as possible, to get this poor creature out of here. It can't hang like this. Gwen will be terrified again, and Morgana will make Uther punish Arthur, even though Arthur has nothing to do with it. Morgana hates Arthur. She wants to kill him. The cat must be taken down immediately. But I can't use magic to do that. No, absolutely no magic. There are no shortcuts. Is it just the leaves rustling, or is someone whispering my name? It's the apple tree whispering. It's urging.
„Merlin"! Arthur's voice, coming from afar, triggered a wave of irritation. Not now. Damn it, not now. „Merlin! What are you doing! Get down from there"!
I reached for the cat, but barely brushed the white paw with my fingertips. I was still a little too low to be able to take it down comfortably, but I wasn't sure of the strength of the branch I would have to stand on. It was quite thin, and besides, it looked withered, as did many others. From this perspective, the crown of the tree didn't look very impressive, clearly being rolled by some kind of disease. Curiously enough, the few healthy branches were bending over with their fruit.
„Merlin! That's an order"!
I reluctantly turned my head. Arthur cut across the training fields at breakneck speed and fell between the trees.
„Have you gone deaf! You're supposed to get out of there right now"! he shouted.
„Do you want Gwen to come across"? I growled. Cursorily clutching the branch with my left hand, I stood on my tiptoes, grasped the cat's cold paw and pulled, hoping that a violent jerk would settle the matter. Of course, it didn't. The material hooked surprisingly tightly. Or it had been caught by someone - a thought flashed through my mind.
„Merlin"! roared Arthur. „I order you to get down! Now"!
„I'm going to take the cat off and get down. There's no point in me leaving it here now that I've gone in, is there"?
„If you don't come down immediately, you'll spend a week in the dungeon"!
It occurred to me that Arthur wasn't joking. He was genuinely furious. The next moment my heart leapt to my throat and my knees bent beneath me, and if I had not clung to the branch with all my might, I would inevitably have collapsed to the ground. I blinked several times, but it changed nothing. A large, red apple was hanging in place of the cat. I looked down to see if it had just fallen. Only my bag was lying under the tree.
Completely dazed, I started to slowly descend, which proved to be much more difficult than climbing. Sweat was running down my face, my hands were slipping, and above that I was slightly dizzy. Arthur practically tore me away from the tree when I got within reach of his hands, and when I stood my ground, he turned me towards him and shook me hard.
„Will you learn to do as I tell you"? he howled through clenched teeth. He was boiling with fury, but his eyes expressed fear above all.
„Arthur… what…" I began, but I stopped, realising that I myself was terrified. My heart was rumbling in my chest, I could feel every, smallest nerve in my body trembling. I had just climbed a tree for a non-existent, dead cat. I had seen it, touched it, and yet now it was gone. This is a definite exaggeration, even by my standards.
„I don't want to see you here again! If I find out you're messing around, you'll suffer the consequences"! He clamped his hands on my shoulders so hard that it hurt. „Is it clear"?
„Arthur... Why? What is this all about"? I mouthed at last.
„Not your business. Did you understand what I said? You are to stay away from that tree"!
„I didn't know you weren't allowed to go up there", I replied quietly.
„Shut up", said Arthur angrily and, dragging me behind him, set off towards the castle. I had to run to keep up with him, and when I asked him to release me and let me go back for my bag, he told me to shut up again.
The alarm bell in my head rang loudly, as if in the crisp air just after a rainstorm. Arthur behaved in such an unpleasant way when something bad was happening that he thought he had to face alone. Most of the time he referred to me with that rough cordiality of his, expressing genuine affection and attachment in inconspicuous gestures. I was well aware, although I didn't always want to notice, that he considered me a friend, which, because of the status difference imposed on us by social norms, was extremely difficult. To be honest, Arthur rarely realistically demonstrated his privileged position to me. I was allowed to respond to the customary insults and nudges, and I had the right to say and do things that nobles would have been afraid to dream of. I quickly realised that Arthur was adopting a incorrectly understood, regal posture in moments of greatest vulnerability, that the spurning, the apparent re-establishment of distance was a visible manifestation of fear. His father's teachings had stuck deep within him and he could not act otherwise. Not turning away from him and not leaving him to deal with his own convoluted feelings, although not easy in the face of sometimes taking violent forms of resistance, ultimately was yielding positive results.
Arthur only let go of me in the castle. He calmed down noticeably, looked downright thoughtful.
„Do something useful", he said in a stern tone and left quickly, as if he had suddenly remembered some urgent matter.
The next hour I was spent preparing two rather complex cures. Gaius had left for a few days for a nearby village whose inhabitants were struggling with a difficult-to-control stomach illness, so I took over some of his duties. One recipe I knew by heart, the other I was dealing with for the first time. Reading Gaius' notes took quite an effort, as he used abbreviations from three languages, for which I now unabashedly cursed him. I was overwhelmed by despondency mixed with gnawing anxiety. Again and again I analysed the whole incident, thought back to the story Arthur had told me years ago. The connection between one and the other was obvious, but understanding the meaning of both events remained out of reach. Had Artur seen what I had seen? Does he know the nature of this bizarre phenomenon? There was a growing conviction in me that it was in that tree that Gwen had found the cat. I longed to speak to Gaius. I hoped that the cause of the illness in the village would turn out to be some triviality and he would be able to return tomorrow.
The slightly ajar door opened all the way with a loud creak and a huge figure appeared in it.
„Oh, you are here", rejoiced Percival.
„Come in", I muttered, placing the cauldron over the fire. Percival entered, closed the door and looked around the chamber.
„If you have a lot of work to do, we can let it go today", he said.
„We won't be letting anything go", I replied, summoning a smile. I was glad to see him coming. I was teaching him to read and write and these lessons gave me considerable joy. It has to be said that Percival was a very likeable and understanding pupil. The rows of letters that frightened him at first, he soon began to put together into words and sentences more fluently than many a nobleman. I couldn't help feeling a mischievous satisfaction when Agravaine read something aloud during council meetings. Writing was more difficult for Percival, but he was slowly making progress in this too.
I washed my hands, wiped the table and, without taking my eyes off the cauldron, began to prepare the necessary utensils. The restless thoughts quietened down a little, the inner jitteriness subsided.
„I saw an interesting thing", Percival spoke up. „They're cutting down that biggest apple tree... You know... Of the ones behind the training grounds. Arthur himself is standing there, watching over people... He seemed so annoyed to me".
„Probably the weather", I replied quickly.
„Maybe so. But that apple tree is a bit of a pity. It bore good fruit".
„Not a pity at all", I said. I was surprised by my own forward tone and the wave of disgust that flooded over me at the mere mention of the unfortunate tree. „Some kind of disease is eating it away. It's better to cut it down so it doesn't infect the others", I added, already calmer. In my imagination, the dead black cat had transformed into a large red apple. In my spirit, I was grateful to myself for not having bothered to prepare my lunch.
Many thanks to everyone who reads and comments on my stories. Without you, it wouldn't make sense.
Please, let me know what you think.