Chapter 7: When My World Began to Change
On the first fine day in early spring, Uncle Merlin and I were riding through the forest together. I had been restless after the winter confined in the castle, and he had been quite ready to get out into the woods as well, so we had taken a long gallop through the forest and were riding back toward the castle in late afternoon when Uncle Merlin suddenly drew his horse to a halt.
I followed suit, surprised and about to ask him why when I saw how tense he had become. "Is something wrong?" I whispered, putting my hand on the hilt of the sword I carried on my saddle.
"I'm not sure," he whispered back. "I feel – as though something is changing forever."
I frowned, not certain why that feeling would be making Merlin scan the trees around us as if he expected a threat to appear at any moment, but it certainly didn't make me feel safe.
The slight crackling of the footsteps of a man walking lightly broke the silence and made me draw my sword. Uncle Merlin slipped quietly off his horse and looked ready to throw a spell at the slightest twitch in the bushes.
Abruptly two bushes parted and a dark haired man in chain mail and a dark cloak emerged. "Merlin!" he exclaimed eagerly, stepping toward him.
Uncle Merlin's eyes grew dark, but rather to my surprise he took a step back instead of attacking. "Lancelot," he said uncertainly, before muttering to himself, "What is bringing you back this time?"
I turned to look at the new man with great interest, since I didn't understand Uncle Merlin's second line at all. I knew the stories of Lancelot, of course, but I'd never dreamed I'd see the brave, noble Knight myself; as he was supposed to be dead, I began wondering if I was dreaming.
He had apparently heard Merlin's muttered question, for he looked quite ashamed and raised his hands in the air. "I'm not brought back by a spell this time," he said intently. "Freya said my time had come and sent me back."
Uncle Merlin turned very pale. "F-Freya?" he faltered, supporting himself with one hand on his horse as if he was afraid he would fall.
"She told us that King Arthur would need the Knights of the Round Table with him when he returned," Lancelot told him. "As I was the first to die, so I am also the first to come back." He smiled a bit to himself as he lowered his hands. "She has worked long and hard to be able to return us all."
My heart was springing with quick joy at the thought of seeing Gwaine and Uncle Elyan sometime as well, but why would they come back now? Father certainly hadn't returned yet.
Uncle Merlin was staring at Lancelot through narrowed eyes, and I could tell well enough that he didn't believe him at all. Lancelot sighed slightly. "I know you don't believe me, Merlin," he said quietly. "I'm so, so sorry for everything I did as a shade."
Merlin drew a tired sigh and ran one hand through his hair, thinking. "That certainly wasn't your fault," he returned. "Look, are you saying Arthur is returning?"
"Soon, yes," Lancelot answered firmly. "Freya says the time of his return is swiftly approaching. He's quite impatient, mind you."
Uncle Merlin's eyes grew very large in his suddenly colorless face, and he scrubbed both hands roughly through his hair. "Arthur's return," he muttered distractedly under his breath, but I was near enough to hear him. "What is he trying to do?"
He stared up at the treetops, and for an instant I could see intense longing cross his face; I knew him well enough to know he would give anything for Father's return, and the fact that Lancelot treated it as if it was coming swiftly was confusing me as much as him. I was growing more excited by the minute, however, and could not understand Uncle Merlin's hesitations with Lancelot, for the thought of my father and all his closest knights back in Camelot sounded like heaven to me.
Lancelot was watching Merlin with what I thought was compassion; Merlin suddenly turned back to him. "Do you remember the old tricks I used to get up to?" he asked.
Looking both pained and sympathetic, Lancelot replied at once, "Of course. You had a habit of saving us with them behind everyone's back."
"Except yours," Merlin muttered. "Well, they've got him closer to the reality this time at least."
"Look, Merlin," Lancelot said suddenly, "I am telling the truth. It was Freya who realized that she could send the Knights of the Round Table back with Arthur, and she created a corner of Avalon – I guess you could call it limbo – where we've stayed for the last years. Now enough of a threat seems to be coming that she can send us back."
Uncle Merlin was watching him with fierce longing in his eyes; he suddenly seemed to come to a decision. "Lancelot," he said firmly, "I forbid you to tell anyone else of Arthur's return for now." He took the reins of his horse and held them out. "In the meantime, we return to Camelot."
Lancelot took the reins hesitantly. "What can I do to make you believe me?" he asked softly.
"Nothing, for the moment," Uncle Merlin replied briefly. Coming over to my horse, he added to me, "I need to ride with you back."
Much to my embarrassment, I was still small enough that I could ride double with most people without tiring my horse too much; I nodded. Uncle Merlin swung up behind me, muttering about not knowing why his dearest dream had to be turned into a nightmare.
The ride back to Camelot was tense and quiet. The strain between Merlin and Lancelot made it very uncomfortable, so to break the silence I said suddenly, "I'm Prince Amhar of Camelot."
Uncle Merlin stiffened behind me, and I wondered if he hadn't wanted me to say that. Lancelot gave me a small smile, though. "It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness," he said gracefully.
And there seemed to be nothing more to say.
That ride seemed to take forever, even though it couldn't have been above a half-hour. When we reached the courtyard, the only person in it was Uncle Percival; he stopped short and stared when we came riding in. Uncle Merlin dismounted quickly behind me almost before I'd stopped my horse and hurried over to him with a quick word; then he turned and rushed quickly toward the stables. Badly confused, I slipped off my horse and followed him, leaving the two knights to greet each other.
Merlin was standing motionless with his head resting against one of the posts in the stable when I reached him; I could never remember seeing him so defeated. "Uncle Merlin?" I asked hesitantly.
"I've watched him die twice," he murmured, hardly to me. "I can't – I can't watch him die again." He spun from the post with sudden determination and began saddling one of our swiftest horses.
"What are you doing?" I asked, shaking my head.
"I have to get to the bottom of this," he said feverishly. "I have to talk to Freya."
"You don't believe him?" I pressed.
"I want to," Merlin said quickly, "I want to so much. But this could easily be a trap, and I can't go through that again." He grabbed his horse's reins and swung up. "Amhar," he said firmly, looking down at me, "you must not let your mother and Lancelot be alone together till I get back. Understood?"
I stared at him, lost and understanding nothing, but he looked desperate, so I simply nodded. Uncle Merlin nodded back to me, tightened his hands on the reins, and rode from the courtyard at a gallop. I was left behind, utterly confused.
Since there seemed to be nothing else to do, I meandered up the steps in search of this mysterious Lancelot. I found him with Leon, Percival, and Mother just inside the walls, and as near as I could tell, he had just finished giving the explanation he had given Uncle Merlin in the woods. Mother's hands were over her mouth, her eyes wide. "Arthur – Arthur is coming back soon?" she whispered.
"I'm not sure how soon, my lady," Lancelot said steadily, "but he will be back before long." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "I'm very sorry for all the grief I caused you when I was a shade," he told Mother. "The bracelet I gave you was enchanted – you were not in control of what you did then either."
Mother's eyes filled with tears. "It was not your fault," she said steadily. "I forgive you." And then she added hastily, "Excuse me," and hurried from the room.
Well, that fulfilled the mandate of her and Lancelot not being together.
I was beginning to realize that I was missing a very major piece of the story, however. I had never heard of shades or enchantments, and what Uncle Merlin had said about Lancelot dying twice still made no sense to me. Clearly there was a story here they had never seen fit to tell me.
Leon, Percival, and Lancelot had begun to talk together like old comrades catching up on a long absence, but I drifted away, uncomfortable; until Uncle Merlin said this strange occurrence was safe, I disliked it as well. As time wore on, however, I began to guess that he had tasked Uncle Percival with keeping an eye on Lancelot, as he never left his side.
We had finished a belated meal – Mother, me, and these three knights – and were sitting in the dining hall when Uncle Merlin returned. It had been a very uncomfortable meal, as I was on edge with the situation, and neither Mother, Uncle Percival, nor Lancelot seemed at ease either. Only Uncle Leon tried to bring a semblance of normality to the meal, and he was not very successful.
When Uncle Merlin appeared in the doorway, though, the confusion of earlier seemed to have left him altogether; his face was shining with a bright hope I had never seen in him, and he was smiling through the tears in his eyes. We all spun to look at him.
"It's true," he said, sounding stunned and watching Lancelot. "I'm sorry I doubted you. It's all true."
Lancelot smiled, relieved, and once again took a step toward Uncle Merlin, who came quickly into the room. This time they hugged each other tightly for a moment.
"I'm sorry it had to be me to return first," he said. "I knew you would doubt me."
"I'm so glad you're back," was all Uncle Merlin said.
"It's all true?" Mother asked suddenly, intent. "Lancelot is really back this time and – and Arthur is returning?"
"I talked to Freya," Merlin said, a wistful smile touching his lips. "She really did it – she found a way to send the Round Table back with Arthur. She can't tell us when, of course, but Arthur is coming back – soon."
He said the last words slowly, as if he couldn't in the least believe them himself, but his smile spread wide. Mother gave a quick delighted gasp and hugged me abruptly as if it was the only response she could think of.
"Arthur is coming," she said unsteadily, smiling with sudden hope. "He's coming back."
Uncle Percival, meanwhile, had turned to Lancelot, smiling. "It is very good to have you back," he said sincerely, extending his arm, and Lancelot clasped forearms with a smile.
"It is very good to be back," he said earnestly. "I had forgotten how much I had missed seeing you all face to face."
"You've seen us otherwise?" Uncle Leon asked, but the edge the atmosphere had had earlier was gone, and his question was simply curiosity.
Lancelot chuckled. "Freya has ways of making the surface of the water show places we could not be," he explained. "She couldn't do it all the time, or else we'd probably have spent all our time watching you, but she showed us what was going on in Camelot quite frequently." He turned to me with a broad smile. "Arthur told me to tell you he was very proud of you, Amhar," he said. "He couldn't believe he had a son when we first watched Gwen tell Merlin. He wishes he'd been here to raise you, but he's been watching your progress intently for years. He must have told me ten times that I was not to forget to tell you that he is proud of you and loves you."
Strange as the method was, this was by far the most direct contact I'd had with my father in my life, and to my embarrassment I felt myself tear up. To make the father I had never known proud had been the goal of my young life, and to know for certain he loved me . . .
"Arthur told me to tell you, Gwen, that he's more in love with you than ever," Lancelot went on, turning to Mother. I could tell Uncle Merlin was watching him intently as he said the words and remembered what he had hinted vaguely once about Lancelot caring for Mother, but there was no sign in the new knight's face that the words were difficult to say. "Merlin," he added, "he says that there was nothing more you could have done, and to tell his best friend that he's an idiot."
There were tears in Mother's eyes now too, and in Uncle Merlin's, although he chuckled a bit through them. Lancelot turned to the other two knights. "Arthur said to tell you two that he is proud of the way you have stepped up to help the kingdom and lead the army in his absence. But by that time Freya was getting impatient to send me back, and the rest will be back to say what they want to say soon, so I'm not overloaded with other messages. Except that Elyan says to tell his sister that she makes the finest queen he has ever seen, and Gwaine made sure to add that we all owe him a day in the tavern as soon as Freya lets him out of a lake disappointingly lacking in anything alcoholic."
There was laughter through the tears in everyone's eyes, and the rest of the evening was much lighter. We sat around, telling old stories of the days of Arthur's reign, talking over the important events Lancelot had only been able to see from the lake. To me, Lancelot being there with us felt as though a piece of Camelot, of my life, that had always been missing had slotted back into place, and I was content.
Your father is proud of you . . . he loves you. I repeated the words in my head a thousand times, a backdrop to the conversation. I still smiled every time.
The following day, however, I went to Uncle Merlin's chambers when I knew he'd be alone. "What happened with Sir Lancelot?" I demanded immediately.
He looked at me. "What do you mean?" he asked, used to my abrupt entrances.
"Something changed between the day you told me he died and when he came back," I said. "How could he have died twice?"
Uncle Merlin sighed tiredly and waved me to a chair. "You know I told you someone came between your mother and father before they were married?" he asked, and I nodded, frowning. It was a point he had glossed over in the old stories, and Mother had never talked about it.
Merlin rested his head on one hand and stared at the sunlight streaming through his window. "Morgana pulled Lancelot back into the world," he said quietly, "not as a living man but as a shade. She sent him to Camelot to make Gwen – show affection to him and thus betray Arthur. Gwen and Lancelot had been – close, at times, in the past."
He sighed and turned toward me a bit. "I still don't believe Gwen was in her right mind any more than Lancelot was –"
"She wasn't," I said quickly. "Lancelot apologized to her yesterday and said the bracelet he gave her enchanted her."
"That would explain it," Merlin said, in the tone he used when he'd discovered a mystery. "Anyhow, driven by the enchantment they kissed each other. Arthur was furious and banished Gwen. Lancelot died a second time; I took him to Avalon and buried him there." His voice shook over the last few sentences. I was silent, knowing him well enough to know that behind those few sentences had been a world of hurt for him, and for both my parents.
"Anyhow, given what had happened the last time Lancelot mysteriously returned, you can see why I was wary yesterday," Uncle Merlin added after a long moment.
"Of course," I agreed readily. "I'm – I'm sorry that had to happen. But when did Father –"
Merlin picked up my broken-off query. "Arthur and Gwen met again when we had to flee Camelot as a result of Agravaine's treachery - and Morgana's," he added with an effort. "They had had time to cool their tempers and realize that they both loved each other." He smiled a bit to himself.
I nodded, unsurprised that Uncle Merlin had never told me the details of this story before; it left me with one fundamental question in my head, difficult to put into words. "Mother and Lancelot - there's nothing nowadays, is there?" I asked at last.
Uncle Merlin shook his head firmly. "Your mother always loved Arthur the most, I think, and she made her decision for him years ago," he said. "And Lancelot has been apart from her for a long time since he died, and he has left his love behind him too. But you mustn't think for a moment that they would have betrayed your father if they were in their right minds," he told me, eyes intent. "Lancelot was far too honorable for that, and Gwen truly loved Arthur. Don't let this story change your opinion of either of them."
"I won't," I declared; I knew well enough from the tales that enchantments could change one completely. I smiled at Merlin and got up.
I had walked to the door before I gathered the courage to ask my other question, and I said it without turning around. "Do – do you really think Father is coming back?"
The words had come out in a tremendous rush, but when I turned I knew Uncle Merlin had understood. His eyes were bright, and he was smiling wistfully; I knew the answer even before he spoke.
"I had never dared think Arthur might return this soon," he said softly, meeting my eyes. "But Freya and Lancelot would not deceive us." He stood up and came to put his hand on my shoulder, that unfamiliar hope alight in his face. "Your father," he said steadily, "will come back soon."
Having Lancelot back in Camelot turned out to be delightful. He was a very noble and chivalrous man, not to mention swift with a sword, and he taught me as much about nobility by his steady example as he did about swordplay when he joined our training on certain days. It wasn't long before I was calling him Uncle Lancelot.
Although Uncle Merlin had certainly told me how Lancelot had been the first in Camelot apart from Gaius to realize that Merlin had magic and had accepted it, I had never realized just how deep their friendship went. Uncle Merlin, I could tell, trusted Uncle Lancelot in a way he trusted no one else; he relaxed in his presence, especially around his magic. Lancelot was the only person besides me and those with magic that Merlin would do magic in front of without a second thought or a glance sideways for permission. Every time I saw that it made me smile.
Once every two weeks, Mother held an open court, where anyone in the land, no matter how great or small, could bring appeals before her. I was sitting by her right hand one afternoon, listening to an old woman from an outlying village drone on about how her sons were cheating her out of a decent living – she had a valid complaint, but she was stating it at such length and with such bootlicking that I was zoning out – when the steady tramp of marching feet broke into her cracked voice.
Mother instantly straightened, and I racked my brain to think of any patrol that might be returning but could think of none. "A moment, Kelsie," she said to the old woman, and I was astonished that she had remembered her name. "Could you step aside?"
"Of course, Your Majesty," Kelsie answered at once, scrambling off to one side. "Anything for Your Majesty."
She was not a moment too soon. The throneroom doors were flung open so violently that the guards had to jump out of the way not to be struck by them, and a group of twenty soldiers in black clothing strode into the room. Mother stood up; Uncle Merlin stepped to her side; every knight and guard in the room was instantly alert. The group strode in perfect step up to the throne, where their leader flung a coiled scroll at Mother's feet.
"We come on behalf of the Saxon leader Landin," he announced in an accented voice. "He demands that all of Albion surrender to him, starting with Camelot. He is marching on you with an army larger than those of the Five Kingdoms put together and over a hundred sorcerers as well. You would be wise to surrender before you face a fight you cannot win."
There was a stunned silence in the throneroom.
Sir Bevidere, a young and rather impetuous knight, abruptly broke it. "Should we arrest them, my lady?" he demanded of Mother, his hand white-knuckled on his sword hilt.
"You fool," the leader of the black-dressed men spat sharply. "I am only here as a diplomat; it would be cowardly to kill me. Landin is gracious; he gives you a chance to surrender." The man spun on Mother and thrust three fingers toward her. "Three months," he said. "You have three months. I advise you to consider how to prepare your kingdom for another rule during that time."
With that his whole group spun on his heel and marched from the throne room with perfect synchronization.
For a moment, there was trembling silence; then a burst of voices broke out. Uncle Leon bent and picked up the scroll thrown down; as he read it, his face paled.
"How real do you think the threat is?" Mother asked softly, under cover of the babble of noise.
"He did not speak as a man fabricating a threat," Uncle Leon said softly, "and what is written on this scroll seems very real."
"This would explain why Queen Annis has complained of an unnatural number of men amassing near her borders of late," Uncle Percival said quietly.
Uncle Merlin said nothing, but both he and Mother looked as though a great weight had suddenly come to bear on their shoulders. Then Mother drew a deep breath and resumed her queenliness.
"Quiet!" she called out. When Uncle Leon shouted it, the court slowly and with much muttering fell silent.
"Court is dismissed," Mother said clearly. "I apologize to all who came with complaints; I will hear them at the same time tomorrow. I need the council to assemble at the Round Table at once. Dismissed!"
Most people were reluctant to leave, but fortunately they did. Mother turned to Uncle Lancelot, standing grim and silent behind Merlin. "Could you kindly ask Gaius to come?" she asked him.
I knew then what she meant. She would consult with the council about what to do with this threat and how much of a threat it was, but in the end it would come down to those who were left of the original Round Table to make the decision. Mother trusted them as she trusted no one else.
This was exactly what transpired. No one thought of sending me from the room, despite the fact that I was young to be listening to discussions of this kind of gravity; but I had been listening in on council sessions for years and it paid off now. I said nothing, however, for there seemed to be nothing to say. The talk made our position clear – we could not, of course, surrender our people to probable slavery and ourselves to death, but we might well destroy the whole kingdom in the fight.
After tedious hours of the council discussing the threat, the scroll, and trying to map out our enemy's likely location, when all that had been agreed on was that this was a legitimate threat and we were driven into a corner, Mother dismissed everyone except Merlin, Gaius, Leon, Percival, Lancelot, and me. She stood and looked at each of us.
"We face a near-impossible decision," she said quietly, strongly, "but we cannot give up the kingdom. We shall have to fight."
Slowly all those left rose to their feet to stand with her, beginning with Lancelot. Even Gaius and I stood.
"It is not hopeless, though," Uncle Merlin said quietly. "We are not the only kingdom threatened. We have no choice but to reach out to all our allies – to anyone who would fight with us – and move against the Saxons together." He drew a very long breath and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "We shall have to unite Albion."
I couldn't understand why he looked horribly broken as he finished saying this, but there was silence for a long moment before Lancelot put in softly, "Arthur may come back to lead it."
For a moment, there was a wild, flaming hope in Merlin's eyes that spread to Mother's and everyone else's. Then Uncle Merlin shook himself slightly. "I shall ride to Caerleon's land at once and speak to Queen Annis," he said. "The Saxons gather on her border, and she is an ally. I am sure she will agree to join us."
"Are you sure I should not go?" Mother asked. "For a matter as grave as this?"
"You need to stay here, my lady," Gaius told her. "The people will need their queen. There were many commoners in the throne room today; by this evening, the news of the coming attack will be all over the city. You will need to be seen as a strong, unwavering presence who can lead them through this nightmare."
Mother straightened her shoulders and nodded. I had never seen her stronger or more queenly than in that moment.
Uncle Merlin bent his head to her in respect. "I ride at first light," he said.
"We," Lancelot suddenly corrected him.
Merlin looked at him in surprise; Lancelot met his eyes with a small smile. "You think I'd let you go off alone?" he asked. "You're not immortal, Merlin." He sounded as if he was reminding him of something said years ago.
Given how much Uncle Merlin tended to protest taking anyone with him when he went off on a dangerous mission, I expected him to argue, but instead he suddenly smiled – his wide, utterly happy smile. "We ride at first light," he corrected firmly.
Mother had a small, pleased smile on her face. "Then the council is dismissed," she said.
A/N: And so everything begins to change. Next chapter will be out on Friday - "The Turning of the Tide."