Chapter 15

The Coming of Cabal

Arthur leant on the stone slab his heart, full of hope. Merlin's body was not here! He hit the stone with the side of his fist.

'Yes Yes! he insisted, I knew it!' Then he straightened up, a half smile of relief on his lips, 'Merlin, I vow, I will find you.'

Then he turned and left the chamber, left the cave, knowing that he would never have to enter there again.

He decided to explore his prison. He already knew that if he got too close to the edge of the forest some trick led him back to the centre. He wished he had listened better to Merlin and what he said about the trees. He was sure one of them was supposed to be some kind of gateway. He decided, despite his aversion to reading, to read that woman's journal, every last word. If she had passed through here she must have written something about it.

Arthur's horse had not strayed far, he knew his master was near and did not wander. Arthur rode around the Forest, it took a day, with several returns to the circle of trees. It was fruitless and only really served to exercise his horse and rouse his frustration.

He decided to sit a while beneath each stand of trees and try to ascertain what qualities they had and perhaps find out which one was the gateway. Through the long night and far into the next day Arthur sat with the trees. He watched how the light changed them, how the wind moved each tree differently and how they almost had a personality, a spirit that was slowly revealed to him. He began to understand what Gaius had said. They were essential somehow. He could even believe they were sacred.

The oak trees were the best companions at night, he lay down where their huge limbs kissed the ground. He listened to the night creatures scavenging and hunting on the forest floor and marvelled at the silent wings of the owl as it swept down like a white ghost to feed on them in turn. In the morning, the ash trees were the most beautiful to sit with, to look to the sky through their slender leaves brought an instant joy. The rowan trees too were restful, but the dark yew trees were not so easy, the ground seemed to shift beneath them and if you stayed too long they glowered at you like bad tempered old men. It's like being dismissed by the King' he thought when he's had enough of me.

It was one afternoon while he sat beneath the yew that he saw something move deep in the forest. He had not seen any animals in the daytime. Heaf came alive only in the night. Days were lonely for him, but for his horse there was no other creature but himself, and the horse was wandering farther and farther from him each day as it sensed his waning interest in riding. At first he thought it might be a deer that moved amongst the trees and he could hunt it and then he remembered that he could not sleep, eat or drink here, and indeed his hunger and thirst had all but disappeared. Nevertheless he slowly rose to his feet and unsheathed his sword, or rather Uther's sword that still hung at his side.

Arthur was expert at stalking, he soon realised that the animal in the forest stood no higher than a man and that it was moving slowly. His blood quickened, after days of inaction a hunt would be good for his soul. He heard a sound to the left of him, up wind and followed, he scoured the ground for tracks and saw in the soft earth, a slight disturbance. Crouching low, he placed his fingertips into the print discovering its shape with his senses rather than his eyes. It was the print of a hunter and not game, a large cat perhaps or a wolf. He dipped his head down quickly to look at the detail and in that instant a giant hound leapt out from the trees snarling. It had doubled back and now stood three feet away from him, barring its teeth. Arthur stood up slowly, the animal was thin and unkempt but it did not have the look of a wild thing. The dog turned its eyes on his sword rather than on him, as though it knew where danger was to come from. So Arthur lowered his sword and the animal responded with a bark. 'Quiet boy,' said Arthur. The dog now looked at him and Arthur could see intelligence in his eyes, so he behaved as he did with his own hounds and standing up, he turned his back on it and said gently, 'come.' He did not look at it again but slowly walked away, expecting it to obey. The dog watched him for three paces then barked and followed.

When they reached the circle Arthur sat down under the Ash trees. The dog lay down a few feet away from him. Arthur still did not look at it but took out Aidith's journal and began to read. He paid close attention to her notes this time, scrawled almost illegibly in the margins. The dog laid its head on its paws and sighed. Arthur reached out towards it and the dog shuffled on his belly until he was within a few inches of the man. So they sat, Arthur reading and the dog's head across his thighs. After a little time, Arthur looked down on the great head, the colour of rust and saw there two deep gashes, almost to the bone that had hardly healed. 'Poor boy,' he said, and the hound looked up at him with golden eyes, like the leaves of autumn, and in their black centre Arthur saw a reflection of himself. Taking the dog's heavy head in his hands Arthur examined the wounds carefully.

'We must do something about these. Eh boy? And I shall have to call you something other than boy as you have a grave and wise face. I can't believe you were ever a puppy?' Arthur smiled, imagining this great thing as a babe. The dog opened his huge jaws in a yawn and let out a whine. 'Ah now I've hurt your feelings, of course you were a puppy and a fine one I'm sure. You are just an old brute now because of all the battles you have fought and won..one day I shall look as you do.'

Arthur gathered woundwort and tore part of his tunic, crushed a fistful of the herbs to make a poultice. He tied it around the dog's head and laughed. ' You look like the old gardener at Camelot who wore that ridiculous hat! What was his name? Cabal, that's it, that's who you are!' announced the prince. And for the first time in many days he felt a glow of warmth and peace. Cabal dropped his head heavily into Arthur's lap with a groan and licked his hand. Arthur felt suddenly saddened. Such affection would be his only comfort if he did not escape this place, but already he had lost some of his will to leave, despite his promise to find his friend. This place was devoid of challenges, unless you took on the challenge to escape it, but it was also free of everything else, no duty, no demands, and no reason to even eat or sleep. Arthur was falling under the spell of Heaf. The captive was falling in love with his captor. All thought of Merlin, of Gwen, his father and even Camelot was fading like a dream in dawn's light.

Gradually Cabal made a change in Arthur. The prince no longer rode his horse but raced Cabal through the trees, leaping the low branches. They wrestled and fought each other until they were breathless and Arthur exhilarated in the need to move quickly to avoid the dog's lethal teeth. Despite his dislike of reading Arthur had almost finished the whole of Aidith's book. He found no mention of the gateway in the trees or of a dog in the Forest, she had only told a little of her encounter with her wronged lover and that she had to make amends with a promise and a truth, but she did not say what it was. But when he came to the very last pages of the book Arthur realised something: Aidith had told of a journey on the other side of the forest, but there was something unconvincing about it. Her writing about the landscape before Heaf was visually detailed, you could see the colour of the rocks, hear the sound of the waterfall.

'No said Arthur out loud, 'you did not journey far beyond here.' Cabal lifted his head and looked at Arthur with his head cocked to one side.

'Not you Cabal, this woman.' he said tapping the page. 'She is trying to wrong foot me. At the start she said the journey was thirteen days and we are here in eight days so you might think there could be nothing here of consequence and ride on. But after Heaf there is talk of nothing else of note, I'll not even bother to read to you what she says about the castle, tis all nonsense. But this blacksmith she tells of here…. yes I think he has a ring of truth. I believe she stops with the blacksmith and that is the end of her journey. If she found anything of the stone she found it near here Cabal. I swear the castle and the stone are close by.'

Arthur closed the book, 'Cabal' he said, his voice firm with resolution. 'I have to get out and find Merlin.' Cabal barked as though a new game was about to begin.

*

Rupert and Gawain rode two hours west and planned to turn north then head back but they had scarcely turned their horses when they caught sight of someone ahead, three people on horseback riding across the moor. Gawain quickly drew his sword but Rupert shielded his eyes and waved Gawain's sword down.

'Come Gawain, it's Merlin!'

Brand's sword was quickly drawn when he saw the two knights riding towards them. His horse was at least, seventeen hands high and the two together were so formidable that Merlin wondered that he needed a sword at all. as they approached, Merlin saw the Pendragon crest and waved Brand's sword down. Merlin recognised Gawain and his heart leapt, he was so like Arthur that for a moment he thought it was he. Rupert dismounted smartly and strode up to Merlin.' I am so glad to see you Merlin,' he said with a huge smile. He clapped his hand on Merlin's shoulder. Then grew serious. 'But I can see that Prince Arthur is not with you.'

.

'Yes.' said Merlin aware that this was not a simple situation to explain.

'Sir Rupert,' he said changing the subject, 'I need to introduce you to Brand and his wife, they can help us find Arthur and….'

Brand took the opportune pause in Merlin's speech to offer his hand to Rupert who took it warmly. Rupert was a good judge of character and he found no fault in the giant of a man. He looked at Lillian who had kept very quiet, her arms protectively around the boy who sat before her in the saddle. Rupert bowed graciously to her and she laughed.

'Goodly knight,' she said, 'I am not a woman to bow to, but I thank you for the consideration.' And she returned his greeting with a courtly nod of the head.

Gawain still looked suspiciously at them but followed Rupert's lead with a polite greeting.

'Tell me how it goes that Arthur is not with you Merlin,' said Rupert directly. We have come to bring him home. King Uther is gravely ill.'

The King is dying?' asked Merlin. 'I do not think Gaius thinks so,' said Rupert with a smile.

'I'm sorry Sir Rupert,' said Merlin. 'I cannot easily explain what is happening. I think,' he said turning to Lillian, 'that we need to ride back to the castle and show you.'

Lillian nodded, Rupert looked from one to the other, his eyes scrutinising them, he wondered at the look that passed between Lillian and Merlin but decided not to challenge them yet.

'Of course,' said Rupert, we must go,'

'Do you want your own horse Merlin?' asked Gawain leading it forward. Merlin grinned, 'You found her, that's just perfect!' he exclaimed, ' You must show us exactly where you found her, if she can get out that way then so can Arthur.'

'Get out of where?' asked Gawain

'It's a long story and best told over food,' interrupted Brand who, needing five square meals a day, looked for any excuse to eat.

Merlin was grateful to get out of the task. The last thing he expected to have to do was to talk to knights from Camelot. That world seemed a million miles away and this one so strange that he would struggle in the telling. How to tell them? How much to reveal of this magical world. They were men of Camelot, warriors in defence of a Kingdom whose greatest enemy was magic and he was riding out to create something, that if not itself magic, called on all the elements that magic was kin to. Merlin did not yet know if Rupert and Gawain were a blessing or a hindrance. The two hours ride back to the castle would scarce be enough time to ponder it.

The six horses and their riders rode on towards Eadbald's castle: four men, a boy and a woman, the strangest army to ever lay siege to it, in all its five hundred years.