12. Karma
Morgana returned to the castle from the secret name giving in the forest as a very happy woman. She firmly believed that this symbolic gesture would give Morgause a much craved assurance. It would convince her elder sister that there was nothing to fear from Camelot and her Christians. Not as long as Morgana and Arthur ruled the realm.
However, it did nothing of the kind. Behind her brother's – and Merlin's – back, Morgana sent message after message to the High Priestess. When they all went unanswered, the Queen went as far as to beg her sister to give the child her official blessing, knowing full well that this might provoke the Christian community beyond endurance.
Morgause's indirect answer, when it arrived, shattered every hope for peace Morgana had still harboured. Two months after the King's son had been named Mordred, the Queen stood face to face with the shambles of her reconciliation plan.
As it turned out, the first two messages from Alined and Marke had only been the first warnings of greater trouble yet to come.
Since then King Alined had taken in Sir Tristan as a fugitive – and the young Iseult with him.
Marke was a broken man. Not only had he lost his beloved nephew but the young man had not fled from Camelot's ground without the woman he loved and in Alined's castle, with the King's express blessings, Tristan had been wed to Marke's wife by the High Master of the Blessed Isle himself.
Armand of Morgwyn could not have treated the earlier Christian marriage with more contempt.
Everybody said it had been a most lavish feast and that it had been crowned by Alined's most solemn oath to join the 'war for justice and right', which the Isle of the Blessed had declared on Marke of Cornwall, the evil destroyer of peace, the immoral scoundrel, the traitor to every law in Albion, offender of the Great Mother…..And what not.
Morgause, as the High Priestess, ultimately demanded of Camelot not only to declare Marke's claim to Cornwall null and void and to outlaw the old Duke, but also to deliver him to the Isle's justice, as it was for the Old Religion, not for Marke's royal liege, to judge the old man.
Marke's desperate plea for help and support from Camelot arrived on the very same day as Alined's formal declaration of his alliance with the wronged High Priestess.
Arthur called for a Council Meeting and the vote, after ten minutes of debate, was unanimous: War!
Not one man, may he be high ranking noble, knight or commoner, voted against it. Camelot would take up the banner to support Marke, against the Isle of the Blessed. No further debate was able to change the verdict.
Nobody said it but everyone thought it – the great experiment that had been at the very root of Arthur's and Morgana's rule, the reconciliation of the Old Religion with the new circumstances Uther's Great Purge had helped to create, had failed.
Once more the Pendragon dynasty would go to war with the Blessed Isle.
When the first rumours spread like wildfire, many a magician imagined a cold gust of wind blowing into his face and shivers of apprehension ran down many a spine.
And yet the upcoming war had a fervent supporter in the most unlikely falcons in Camelot's Council: Algernon and many of his compatriots openly defied their Elders' order to keep up peace at any costs. The once timid Druids spoke loudly for war.
Arthur wasn't too pleased; anyone – except a crestfallen, gobsmacked young warlock from Ealdor – could see that. Yet not even the Branguards sided with their King's obvious – if unvoiced – wishes in this.
True enough, Uther's reign had once done much damage to peace and balance of the realm. But no one desired the return of the old times in which an almighty Priesthood of the Blessed Isle had had the last word in almost anything.
Malcolm of Branguard put it in a nutshell: Cornwall's vast riches would enable the Isle to play an independent rule in the game of power. The men who profited vastly from Uther's system of secular rule would never allow this. Morgause had crossed a line and unless she would be put in her shoes, no man of substance could sleep peacefully in his bed.
Arthur looked into their faces. If he were to lose this war, these very same men would doubtlessly come to an agreement with the Blessed Isle. Cut their losses; ensure their survival even though their position had been lost. But if he refused to fight now, these men would dispose of him and try to fend for themselves as best they could. Camelot would be torn apart. Either way the Pendragons would perish - his sister, his children and anyone foolish enough to stick with him until the end.
So if the war could not be avoided, he might as well try and hold fast to what he had. "I've heard your arguments and advice My Lords" the King said. He hesitated before he continued "And I agree!"
Leon, Gwaine, Percy and the other knights as well as Gaius and Geoffrey looked at their feet. It was all too obvious that this was an outrageous lie. Morgana kept silent, too. There was no need to explain her brother's thoughts to her. Uther had brought up both his children to take a throne – and keep it.
However, opposition came from as unlikely a front as love of war had done: Merlin fervently disagreed with anything that had been said. In his opinion they were all biased and had a one-sided definition of right and wrong. He spoke as eloquently as he spoke unwisely and he was shouted down so threateningly that Gaius - and Arthur - hastily claimed an urgent need for the warlock's presence in an ad hoc war council of King and knights.
As it was, Arthur's first official act as commander-in-chief was to postpone the war powwow until the next day, "to give anyone some time to think it over", as he said, conveniently – if only for him – leaving the exact meaning of these words in the dark.
Merlin glared at Arthur's disappearing back, resolved to have a word with the bloodthirsty prat. It was Gwaine who held him back. "Forget it, my friend. He doesn't like this any more than you do. But he's got no choice."
"He is the King!" Merlin protested heatedly.
"Yes" Leon confirmed with uncharacteristic livid sarcasm "exactly."
Merlin turned his back without another word. Warriors! He'd surely find no understanding here. Gaius called after him but Merlin didn't want to listen, as nobody was willing to listen to him.
Morgana wasn't a source of solace to her lover either, as she didn't dream of opposing a unanimous Council Vote. "No divide et impera this time, sweetheart" was all she said before she too vanished from sight.
Merlin was too upset to see that she was torn apart in the middle. Her brother would go to war with her sister. Again! Only this time Morgause would fight without her sister's aid. All of Morgana's dreams, all their efforts had come to nothing, as peace between the past and the future, between the Old Religion and the new one, had lasted barely a year.
The Queen went to the armoury where she found her brother. Silently they both took up their swords. Methodically, untiringly they laid waste to the soldiers' training ground until nothing was left intact. Only afterwards they felt capable of talking things through in private.
Merlin, however, was still resolved to bring them all to their senses. And he started with the main culprit: Algernon.
Said Algernon sighed when he saw the, as usual, most unwilling saviour of the Druids coming. This would be no easy, friendly chat. Even so he'd not thought the warlock would be that furious.
"What the hell did you think you're doing in there" Merlin yelled as soon as they were in the forest, out of earshot from castle and town. "You, a Druid? Talking for war? Actually calling for it, on Marke's behalf? The man despises us, all of us. He once said….."
"I know what he said, Emrys. And yes, I am a Druid. A leader of my people. Camelot, the way it is, the way Arthur and Morgana have rebuild it, grants us peace and freedom. We can find nothing but slavery in a renaissance of the Isle's rule. The High Priestess is claiming our children; Alined threatens to take them by force, in case you've forgotten"
"So you would fight other magicians? Kill our own kind, for a bunch of nobles who'd sell us all to Uther's Great Purge tomorrow, if he rose from his grave with a thick purse?"
"How come I think you're asking not me but yourself?" Algernon retorted with some irony.
Merlin looked away. Angrily he kicked the ground with his foot. He would have loved to smother the insolent Druid with a sharp answer but, as a rule, the fine cutting speeches were still Arthur's resort.
Algernon looked at him and he lost the urge to smile about the younger magician. Poor boy. What a destiny, to be torn apart by diverging loyalties, whatever he did, wherever he turned.
Merlin was still stubbornly staring at the ground under his feet. "Magic against magic" he said after a while. "Sorcerer against sorcerer. It's hard to believe."
"Why? You've done it before. How many sorcerers have you defeated, killed even, in the Pendragons' service?"
"But I thought it was over. Magic has returned to Camelot. Arthur has undone the evil his father caused!"
"The past cannot be undone, Emrys. Arthur has healed many of the wounds his father inflicted but he cannot make the memory or the pain vanish into thin air. Sorcerers are human beings, with all the frailties of mankind. They can be greedy, lusting for power, or striving for revenge, as fallible as the next man."
"So that's it then. We'll go on fighting and killing to all eternity and in the end we'll be buried and forgotten."
"If you do not think Arthur's cause a worthy one, what've you been fighting for in the past? It's still the same, Camelot against evil. As this has always been your definition of evil, Emrys. Your side is good and the others' side is wrong, magic or otherwise."
"If you have a better definition, you tell me!" Merlin still was visibly furious.
"I don't. And believe me - it took me a lifetime of thinking and finally resigning to that. Values and ethics and the lot - it's more than worth fighting for. Or dying for, if you're such an old war-seasoned pacifist as I am. But when bad comes to worse – I'm flawed, my friend. I'm a true believer who's not cut out for Holy Wars. Those I love I will not let suffer. Not if I can avoid it."
Merlin huffed irritably. "And you think this war will steer clear of the Druids? You'll be caught right in the middle, if you want my prognosis."
"We are already caught, Emrys, all of us. Between two evils. And for me, for my people and, forgive me, for you, the Isle's downfall is the lesser of the two."
'Emrys' pondered that for a while. "So it was all useless" he finally sighed. "There will be no revival of the Old Religion."
Suddenly at the end of his tether, Algernon gave the younger man a hard push. "Merlin" he said angrily "as long as an honest magician can warm his ass and eat his soup at Camelot's fires without fearing for his head, that's all the Religion I need, old or otherwise!" With that, the Druid walked away and let the great Emrys stay in the woods for as long as he liked.
Which was perfectly fine for the angry warlock. And yet he would not find the quiet spot he needed to come to terms with everything.
"Merlin."
The warlock ignored the urgent whisper inside his head.
"Merlin!"
The warlock flinched and rolled his eyes.
"MERLIN!"
"What the devil do you want, Khilgarrah?" Merlin thought back defiantly. "I've not heard from you in ages."
"But I've heard all the more from you. All this last year I've been sitting in my cave worrying about you and Arthur. But of course you don't need me any more, oh most august Court Sorcerer of Camelot."
"And sure as hell, I didn't call you now either."
"No, but Morgause did, with dear Armand's most selfless support. Must've used every spell in her great recipe book in order to break your hold over me. My head aches."
"Go and see a healer. Tell Morgause you're on sick leave."
"M! E! R! L! I! N!"
That sent one young Dragonlord's backside to the ground. "All right, all right, what do you want?"
The air around Merlin rushed and roared when the Great Dragon landed by his side. "I can tell you what I most certainly do not want" Khilgarrah snorted aggressively. "I neither wish to aid Armand in his mad struggle to turn the sacred island into a military dictatorship nor to witness Camelot becoming a Christian monastery. I've seen more than enough piously burning pyres in my day, I'm sick of it."
"That makes two of us" Merlin had to admit, much to his chagrin. "So what do you suggest?"
Khilgarrah looked down.
Up.
Left.
Right.
His claws dug into the ground; subsequently he found something extremely interesting under his left wing. He inspected this something at great length before his head resurfaced. "I don't know" he said, avoiding the warlock's gaze. "I thought you might come up with something."
When Merlin just gawked at him disbelievingly, the Dragon took his refuge with anger, howling like an enraged wolf. "Year after year you came to me for advice. Once, just once I'd like to see you do all the thinking."
"That's what you came for" the warlock said. It was a statement, not a question. "Well, here is my thinking: Get lost!"
Dragonlord or no, Merlin sidestepped quickly when Khilgarrah's head shot towards him, all teeth bared. "You can't lay blame on me, young warlock. I've told you before: The evil that comes from your decisions is your doing. You've put this burden on your shoulders, now don't you dare whine and run from it."
"Oh, go back to your cave. You'd never fight the Blessed Isle, you're part of it."
The big head darted upwards again when the Dragon straightened his back. "As are you, young warlock. And yet something tells me you've made up your mind."
"I have" Merlin muttered, barely audible. "I'll be with Arthur and Morgana. As always."
"Naturally" the Dragon sighed. "My Dragonlord is a maker of destinies. I will be proud to follow him."
Merlin swallowed hard with awkwardness. He hated such pompous moments; they made him feel puffed-up too big for his skin and horribly small and petty at the same time.
"Wherever he leads" Khilgarrah confirmed his first statement. "If he leads at all."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that the time has come in which the greatest warlock of all can no longer rely on anyone to show him the way. The young Pendragon was done for, the path to the Golden Age destroyed on the day of Osric's ritual. But you and the people around you, you've grabbed destiny since then, with both hands, and forced it on a new, unheard-of path. For that, the future is yours. It is no longer mine to see."
"It was, correct me from wrong" Merlin retorted "my impression that, whenever I acted alone in the past, you always loathed my decisions."
"True but irrelevant, as that wasn't what I meant."
"Oh, no?"
"Oh, no!"
"Then pray tell me, what are we talking about?"
Khilgarrah frowned. "About your conscience. Your beliefs. About no longer having a given destiny or some age old prophecy from the crystal cave for an excuse. You were quick of the mark when it came to telling Arthur what choices he had to make. What will you do if you have to choose? A friend or a future? What you want or what is right?"
"Did you eavesdrop on my conversation with Algernon?"
"Naturally. And I don't agree with him."
Merlin gave it up. The more they talked the less he understood.
"Enough babbling, Khilgarrah. Are you with us or with the Blessed Isle?"
"Oh, it's 'us' now, is it. Well, then, I'm with you, as I said, and with the young Pendragon."
"Pendragons" Merlin said loudly, emphasizing the plural 's'.
Khilgarrah cocked his head and Merlin heard him snarl a bit. "No, young warlock. There is no Pendragons for me. Just Arthur. But you, you've never chosen wisely on that score. Beware to choose unwisely again."
"Stop slandering Morgana. I'd rather you tell me what you want for a reward."
The Great Dragon let his shoulders sink a bit. "I want you to promise me to not heed Algernon's advice too much. There's more at stake than not letting those you love suffer. Much more. Chose your steps wisely and never with your heart alone. That's all I want."
"If you say there's nobody left I can rely upon why shouldn't I listen to my heart?" Merlin stood there; ready to fight a world with his bare hands. "I love her. Do you have any idea what that word means?"
Sadly Khilgarrah shook his head. With one powerful flap of his wings he lifted his body up from the ground. "Those who do evil do not always want evil, Merlin" he said. "That's why the way to hell is paved with good intentions."
He circled the warlock closely as he continued "I've given you my word, therefore I'll come to you in your hour of greatest need. Choose wisely when to call for me and what to ask of me. After that, I may not be able to come to you again."
Merlin watched him disappear in the clouds. For a while he racked his brain. What the hell had the Dragon meant?
But soon enough his thoughts returned to the events that had brought him here. The end of the Golden Age, before it had really begun. Suddenly Merlin felt very cold. Cold and miserable.
At long last he climbed to his feet and headed home. He would talk to Gaius; Gaius had always known what to make of the Dragon's riddles. And most of all he'd talk to Arthur and Morgana. And Gwaine and Leon and… Merlin thought that he had a lot of talking to do, to a lot of people and some talks would consist mostly of apologies.
Algernon was right, Merlin thought while he trotted along. In the end it was your friends that really mattered, nothing else. Those you loved.
From the hilltop where Camelot came first into view the warlock looked down on his home and saw a horse galloping uphill at top speed.
Morgana was breathless when she reached him. Her cheeks glowed and her whole face was radiant. "Merlin! I know what to do. Morgause will back off. There will be no war."
With increasing apprehension Merlin listened to her as she explained her idea to him. The Dragon's warning somehow seemed more understandable than before. "What makes you think Morgause will listen to you? Why should she? She knows who and what you are, so does Armand. Why should this 'demonstration' change anything?"
Morgana's temper flared up instantly. "What do you know about her and me? I tell you, it will work. It was a mistake, meeting her half way, making one compromise after another. If I show her what she's up against, that not all powerful magic is under the Isle's heel, she'll back off and listen. I know my sister!"
"But Arthur….."
"This has nothing to do with my brother. Knights and fortifications, wars and politics I gladly leave to him" her tongue stumbled slightly over the word 'gladly' but not enough to make her stop "yet if it comes to magic, Arthur has no say. Morgause may be the High Priestess but I'm the head of magic in Camelot."
"Are you?" Merlin said without thinking, honestly surprised by that statement. As he loved them both – if in completely different ways – he'd never given the precarious balance between the siblings much thought.
"Oh don't be childish sweetheart" the Queen said impatiently. "I know you're powerful too. But you see, for Morgause that doesn't count for much. Yet she'd never fight against me in all earnest. It's just a question of who's more determined to have her way."
"Morgana, my love, I'm not sure this is such a good idea after all…."
"Do you love me or not?" she burst out, close to tears. Resolved as she was to prevent a war between her closest and dearest, a war that would destroy anything she'd fought for, Morgana couldn't bear this resistance from the man she loved, the man she'd relied upon to be the first to support her. "Fine, go ahead, coward. Who needs you, anyway. We can do without your help, thank you very much!"
"We?" Merlin said uselessly. What he really thought was "you and which army?"
"Gwaine has agreed to accompany me" Morgana said loftily. "At least some men know what is due to their Queen."
"Gwaine? Gwaine is in this with you? But he's a knight now, what if Arthur…"
"Oh to hell with my brother. Sword and strength are useless here. It's just that Gwaine didn't want me to go alone; not after he'd heard Gaius saying that I'm …." Morgana stopped herself in the very last moment. "Never mind" she said, suddenly sobered. "You're right of course. One of us has to stay in Camelot. Arthur may well have need of a strong magician. And I'll be back in no time."
Only when she turned to mount her horse, Merlin really gathered that she was about to leave him, and in the worst mood and false impression possible. "Morgana, wait" he screamed and in this instant all warnings, from Dragons, healers, Druids or others were forgotten. He grabbed Morgana's shoulders just as she grabbed her belly with a short yelp.
They both felt it in the same second. Morgana with an unbelievable joy and a rush of assurance that she was doing the right thing for the right reasons. Merlin with breathtaking surprise and disbelief. And yet he knew at once what he felt. Or, rather, whom he felt.
Their daughter. Their little daughter had moved. Had kicked her mother for the very first time. "I'm here" the merry presence called in his mind. "Can you see me? Who's out there? I'm here."
"When did you think you'd tell me?" he asked hoarsely. "When your belt would burst? Or only after the birth of my child?"
She gnawed on her lower lip. But then, being Morgana Pendragon, Queen of Camelot, she just turned round, threw her arms around him for dear life and made the best of what she had. "Don't you see you stupid oaf, I'm doing this for her. For us! We've fought so hard, my love. For peace, for justice for our kind. Our daughter shouldn't grow up in a world of war and destruction. Merlin, please." She looked into his face through a veil of tears, her face smeared, her nose running and her eyes puffy and yet he thought she'd never been more beautiful.
"Ahem" a voice said from behind. "So sorry for disturbing you. Desolated, in fact. But if we want to come away unnoticed….."
Merlin turned, instinctively he brought himself between Morgana and the newcomer, before he, with a sigh of relief, recognized the uniform of the Round Table. "Gwaine!"
"The very same, at your service. I've stolen a few horses from the King's stable for the Queen's use and one for you, oh mighty Court Sorcerer. If Her Majesty wants to get away before His Majesty breathes fire down our necks, we should make haste."
Somehow Merlin knew that he was about to be trampled down by both of them and by their sheer resolve not to take 'no' for an answer. But he hadn't it in him to refuse them either. As if they'd trained for the moment all three mounted and, as Gwaine had said, 'made haste'.
Later on, when they'd made camp for the night and Morgana was browsing through her things – great sorceress or no, her bags were still significantly bigger than the men's – Merlin pushed his elbow into Gwaine's side. "What were you up to? Why did you agree to go with her? You could've told Arthur to stop her."
The knight scrutinized his friend with an enigmatic face. "If the Lady wants to go, she will go, no Arthur, no Council and certainly neither poor me nor poor you will stop her. Should she go alone? Your girl? With my best friend's child in her belly?"
Merlin blushed hotly. "You knew?"
"No reason to bristle your quills, I just eavesdropped on friend Gaius. Heard a female voice in his study, it wasn't Alice's so I got curious. You know me.
"Don't I" Merlin growled softly. "Gossiper! Does your wife know you stalk other women?"
"My wife is clever, she doesn't mind me wetting my appetite outdoors as long as I eat at home" Gwaine replied with a twinkle.
"But you brought a horse for me, too."
"Guilty as charged. But, please don't tell her or she'll skin me alive, it wasn't my idea."
"Whose idea was it?"
"Arthur's."
Merlin jumped. "Arthur's?"
"The one and only. Told me that you'd never let her go on her own and if you did, you're not the man he took you for. Wants you to bring her back in one piece, and the baby too."
That took the wind out of the warlock's sail. "He too knew before I did?"
Gwaine rolled his eyes. "The Queen is with child a bit in advance of her wedding; a wedding, as I may add, that's not even scheduled. Of course she's informed her brother. He's happy for you both, by the way. Has no idea what to do about it and how to tell the others when the time comes, poor bugger, but happy nonetheless. As royals come, the man's a marvel."
Merlin tried to gather his wits. It was too much, too fast, from too many different angles. A target on the training ground might feel like he did. Again he wished he'd had a chance to talk to Gaius before he left. What was it that Arthur always said when half a dozen unpostponable problems were on his desk at the same time the solutions of which were mutually exclusive? First things first!
So, no more baby talk for Merlin Emrys before he felt up to it.
"How come Arthur knows of Morgana's plan? She said …."
"I know what she said" Gwaine said softly but urgently. "Arthur can't give the scheme his official blessing. He would love anything that settles this quietly, yet the Christians are beleaguering him with demands 'to get rid of the magic vermin like your father would've done'. End of quote. If Morgana can kick some sense into her sister – good for anyone. If she fails, the Christians shouldn't know about it. Sooner or later they will fly at her and Arthur will not let her down. He'd have that bit of fun later rather than sooner, compris? It's shitty, but that's how it is."
"It's politics" Merlin said sadly. That he had called Arthur a bloodthirsty prat earlier weighed heavily on his mind suddenly.
"Yeah" Gwaine replied. "Shitty politics."
All at once, the warlock was sick of it all. To hell with Camelot. This snake pit of criss-crossing interests or murmuring, whispering rumours and schemes was not what he had been dreaming of. How was it possible that Arthur had known it would be like that all the time and had yet wanted this for a life? Or had he? How much choice did one have if one had been born a Crown Prince?
Merlin's head ached. "I think I'll turn in" he said listlessly.
"You do that" Gwaine replied, only to add, after a brief hesitation "she needs you, you know. I'd never thought it possible, but she adores you. Leon still doesn't like her much but even he sees it."
Merlin turned and wanted to go to the small tent when Gwaine's voice stopped him once more. "You do not believe in her plan, do you."
"It's dangerous" the warlock replied reluctantly.
"Very?"
"Yes, very."
"For whom?"
The warlock thought about it before he answered. "For anyone." He fought for words. "Her magic is… different."
With one swift movement Gwaine was on his feet. "I do not pretend to know much about your gifts my friend. But this better worked. This war can't be won by swords and armour."
For a second Merlin wanted to tell him about the Dragon's warnings, Gaius' hints at the dangers of Morgana's gifts, of a dead horse in the woods – of everything he'd kept buried deep in his soul for so long. But in the end he just nodded. "I know it can't" he said "and don't you worry. Once more we magical monstrosities will save the day, so that all the decent, respectable men of substance can sleep peacefully in their beds!"
"You're not doing it for them, you know."
"Then for what" the warlock retorted snappily. "For the love of Camelot?"
The knight cocked his head towards Morgana who had by now curled up on her bedroll inside the tent with, careless as ever, the tent flap wide open. Or was it an invitation?
"What else is there to fight for?" Gwaine grinned. "You're still a lucky bastard, Merlin. Especially as I'm going to take the first watch."