Chapter 33

Through The Door

Uther came to the edge of the circle of trees. He stood below the rowans and looked across to the great ash trees. Below the trees was dark, he could see into the light but not into the darkness. Slowly the darkness started to move. Figures walked out into the light, men, women and children. Uther knew who they were. He remembered every one of them. He had spent the last weeks dreaming of them, bringing them back into his mind out of the depths he had banished them to. Uther walked around the circle. They stood not fully in this world or in the next and each accusing him by their very presence. No words were spoken, no spells cast, no ranting, no screaming. They stood in silence watching Uther. And as their executioner walked he named them, he put out a hand to touch their scars, their wounds, his hands growing bloody. He named them and as he did so they faded back into the trees and in his naming he planted all his sorrow and shame, with each touch he gave up a little of himself, pledging his life for theirs a hundred times and when he was done the King of Camelot sat beneath the yew trees. He sat in silence, knowing that his tears could not be shed for anyone but them and that they did not need them. Uther the King sat in the dirt on the edge of a circle of trees and waited, waited for a death-blow for a rain of anger and rage to fall on him but none came. Instead he felt a hand on his cheek and a voice he had long craved to hear. When he looked up he saw her, Igraine, her hair like the sunlight, glowing in the shadow of the trees, her eyes shining with tears.

'So many...so many,' she said mournfully.

Uther could not speak. He leant his head into her hands and she knelt down to him.

'Uther my love,' she said, 'I have here witnessed the terrible revenge you took in my name. What revenge will you take on yourself Uther?

The King lowered is head then looked up at her once more. 'I…I should be forever parted from you Igraine…even in death.'

'Would you so punish me further?'

'You cannot want me Igraine, a murderer and liar.'

'To hear you say so Uther is the beginning of it. Come with me now and see where it will lead.'

Uther thought of the Kingdom he had spent his life building he thought of Arthur, the desire of his heart that he had realised only through deception and greed. He thought of the death he had seen for himself at the hand of a sorcerer in the heat of a battle: an honourable death. Then he thought of those he had sent to their graves and the dishonour he did them.

'I will join you Igraine in death, in any fashion you choose.'

Igraine laughed and caught up Uther's hand in hers. 'This is not your punishment Uther! This is your reward! Come with me and we will talk of many things and we will learn to love each other again.'

Uther looked into the eyes of the woman he had long dreamt of seeing. She was not the same Igraine he had tricked into death, she had grown in wisdom just as she would have done in life, just as he had grown obdurate and vengeful she had perfected forgiveness and love.

Uther climbed to his feet and put his arms about her. She smiled up at him.

'Are you ready?'

Uther nodded. Igraine walked into the clearing at the centre of the circle. A man stood waiting, tall and dark. He stood waiting at the oak doorway. As they approached Uther recognised him, but surely this was not the boy back in Camelot. He was older and grave and had none of the innocence of that boy. The warlock held open the door to the oak as Uther and Igraine drew near. From the other side of the forest a shout went up. A man ran across the clearing calling for them to stop. The sorcerer lifted his hands, his eyes shone with a golden light and the man fell to the ground.

The King and Queen passed into the oak and the door closed behind them leaving no sign that it had ever been there.

The man on the ground groaned in pain. The warlock approached him.

'You should not have interfered.' said the warlock.

The Prince rolled onto his back and looked up at his assailant, he tried to draw his sword but his hands were too weak even to make a fist around the hilt, as he looked up at the sorcerer, Arthur's eyes grew round with surprise.

'Merlin!' he said. 'What the hell are you doing?'

Merlin smiled at Arthur, but it was not a smile of friendship or warmth.

'You are Prince Arthur, soon to be King Arthur.'

'What! Merlin! Have you taken leave of your senses? Is the King dead? What have you done Merlin?'

'Your father is walking into the next world, it is what he wanted and what the forest demanded.'

'But the stone Merlin is it safe?'

A confused look crossed Merlin's eyes.

'Send me back! Send me back to Camelot now!' yelled Arthur.

'I cannot, it is not within my power.'

Arthur scrambled to his feet. He held onto Merlin's shoulders. The warlock frowned at the touch. With all his power of concentration Arthur calmed himself. He held on tightly to Merlin despite the warlock's growing agitation.

'Send me back Merlin! You can do anything you want to...Look at you!'

Arthur looked into the eyes of his friend, a man he no longer recognised, a man that no longer knew him, he called out to him with his mind with his whole being.

Merlin lifted his hands and pressed them against Arthur's chest. The Prince closed his eyes, waiting for the blow that he was certain would come. Merlin's hands grew hotter, so hot that Arthur felt the heat through the armour. Around them the green of the forest faded, the flickering glow of the forge lit their faces. They were back in Camelot.