Happily they finished seeing to the horses and returned to the house.
Caet spent an hour that afternoon searching in the straw, until he found one long golden strand. Carefully he placed it in the leather bag around his neck where he kept his treasures.
Whenever Guinevere thought of that summer in later years, she always saw it ringed in gold and silver. Colors were brighter, music more touching, and the happiness was so intense she could taste it.
“It was the last summer before,” she would say.
“Before what?” someone would always ask.
“Before everything.” Her eyes would then cloud and the questioner would know to ask no more.
But at that time she didn’t know that it was the last anything and wouldn’t have understood if someone had told her. So she simply enjoyed it with all her heart. She wanted nothing more in her life than to live like this, with her parents and brothers, spoiled and loved forever. They were content, too, for her to remain so, for to her family, Guinevere was the essence of all their dreams: a happy, innocent creature, beautiful and untouched by the grief and conflict outside her narrow world.
There were many riding expeditions, into and through the woods. Everyone made so much noise on these that it was no wonder they saw nothing but themselves. Guinevere’s dreams became vague and the strange longing she had felt ebbed. They went on picnics and had great banquets that lasted until the summer dawn. Geraldus more than earned his keep at these. He knew more legends and songs than one could hear in a month of banquets. His honey voice carried them into whatever tale he told, making them laugh or weep without even realizing it. Sometimes Guenlian wondered if these stories were not too secular for a saint. However, her duty as a hostess was foremost in her mind, and there was no doubt that the guests were mightily entertained.
The only shadow in Guinevere’s world that summer was Merlin. She couldn’t overcome the feeling that he disliked her, although his manner toward her was always irreproachable. It was a new feeling which made her very uncomfortable when he was around. She resented his eyes; when they looked at her, she felt she was under examination. Thankfully, he rarely joined the group of young people, preferring to stay with Guenlian or ride with Leodegrance as he oversaw the estate, or even sit by the hour with Tenuantius, arguing points of grammar so intently that the old teacher began to feel there was some hope for the country yet. Everyone was fond of him but Guinevere, but with so much to do and so many friends, she rarely let him upset her.
To Guinevere’s brothers, Merlin had always been a figure of excitement and mystery. His mother and Guenlian’s had been cousins and therefore he was Family, part of a tight unit against whom nothing might be said. But even in their remote and sheltered corner of Britain they had heard strange stories of him: his unknown siring; the terrifying string of prophecies he had spun for Vortigern, which had all come true as far as anyone knew. Vortigern had been defeated, although the Saxons he had invited into Britain were still rampaging through the country. There were stories of Merlin’s dabbling in black magic to help King Uther with his lecheries, but no one knew much about that. Some even said that Merlin was responsible for the Giant’s Dance, the circle of stones in the middle of the great plain to the east. About this Guinevere’s brothers questioned him, and he replied that it wasn’t true. He knew not how the stones had come there, nor their purpose.
That didn’t stop Matthew, Mark, and John from believing other stories. They wondered what had happened to him after the battle of Arderydd, when his whole family had been killed, including his uncle, King Gwenddolau. By listening at doors late at night, they had heard the story of how he was seen wandering among the bodies, raving into the winds, as mad as a loon. He disappeared after that and wasn’t seen again for over a year. Even Guenlian had been unable to find out from him where he had been or how his reason had been restored.
Now he was possibly the most important man in all Britain. Only he had the full confidence of Arthur. Indeed, it appeared that he was the one guiding Arthur’s brilliant rise to power and magnificent successes in battle.
Guenlian and Leodegrance forbade discussion of Merlin by their children. They insisted that he have one place to visit where he would be treated like a human being and a cousin and not a demon-sprung necromancer. Their policy toward him was much the same as toward Geraldus, and both were grateful. Both had learned that the price for this courtesy was slight. Geraldus was to entertain and Merlin was not to prophesy.
Merlin especially was glad not to be badgered with demands to tell the future. As anyone who had heard his prophecies knew, they were as vague and rambling as the Apocalypse, full of flames and symbolic animals. If Merlin knew what they meant, he refused to make them clearer. Truly, he insisted, he wasn’t always sure what they meant. Sometimes they seemed like the spoutings of a stranger, torn from his mouth. He never would have spoken at all if he had had some control over himself. For he had other visions, too, clear ones, when the pattern of the future was spread before him like a view from a mountain top, only obscured here and there by wandering clouds. They involved people, individuals, some of whom he loved dearly. Arthur was one. And Guinevere was mixed up in it somewhere; but he could not see the end, only that she would cause everyone much pain, especially herself. He could never look at the girl without a chill sweeping over him. He had noticed the change in her at first glance and was troubled. If only he could get her away, to Armorica, or at least to a convent. Anywhere she might be sent to keep her from entering the world of men.
He couldn’t help admiring her, though. He saw the way she carried herself with a graceful flow that added to the impression she gave of being not quite of this earth. She was still unconscious of her ripening body, which made her all the more beautiful as she tried neither to hide nor to flaunt it. Even her eyes had been fashioned to arouse wonder. In the sunlight they were as green as grass and by fire they were almost the color of a cloudy sea.
“And she is as heedless as a yearling colt,” he muttered as he watched her playing running games with the boys. They had set up a course with sudden turns and bars to jump. Guinevere’s agility matched the greater speed of her brothers and the game was a close one. Her arms and legs were bare and her laugh shimmered across the warm meadow.
“Why can’t she just stay as she is!” Merlin sighed. “As beautiful, elusive, and emptyheaded as a deer in the woods. Probably as heartless.”
He wronged her there, but even a prophet cannot see everything, and Guinevere’s heart had not yet been needed for anything more than keeping her blood upon its course.
That evening a courier arrived from Arthur with a message for Merlin, who heard it grimly and sent back a reply at once. The poor rider only had time for some meat and ale before he was sent off again on a new mount. He thought enviously of his horse comfortably stabled for the night, while he raced once again into the dark forest.
Merlin was moody all through dinner. He spoke little, and Guinevere was sure that he glared at her just to keep her from eating. His silence affected all the others, and the meal was a somber one. Afterwards, Mark, Matthew, and John fled to the stables, where they could be sure of at least a game of chance and perhaps some spicy local gossip. Guinevere gladly went with Flora to help in laying out the herbs, fresh-picked, to be dried in the sun the next day. Flora had also been gloomy that summer, but at least she only sighed and moaned and did not stare at one as if one had committed an unpardonable sin.
When all had left but Merlin, Guenlian, Leodegrance and Geraldus, Merlin finally came back to life. Geraldus didn’t notice the other three. He was listening to a new attempt by his chorus. It was basically a roundelay, but occasionally the alto would venture out on a melody of her own, which would cause Geraldus’ heart to beat ecstatically. Consequently, he missed the conversation until he was called into it.
“I have had a message from Arthur,” Merlin began sententiously. “The Saxons have been pushed back south of London and the Piets north of Hadrian’s Wall, thanks to the efforts of our good cousin, Cador. They will not trouble us again before next spring, he feels. The Saxons in the south have given hostages, which Arthur turned over to Cador on his trip homeward.”
“That is excellent news, Merlin!” Leodegrance exclaimed. “Why, then, do you wear such a dismal face? I could barely eat with your morose countenance always before me.”
“Yes, we should rejoice, cousin,” agreed Guenlian. “Perhaps this is the turn of fortune we have been waiting and working for all our lives!”
“That I cannot see,” Merlin sighed. “Arthur has only asked—against my wishes—if you would be willing to allow him to bring a few of his officers and other men of good family to camp on your land and rest and hunt for a while. He thinks they will arrive in perhaps three weeks.”
“We would be honored to entertain such a great
dux bellorum
,” Leodegrance replied. “At last!” he thought. “A chance to see this unknown quantity and judge him for myself.”
He said aloud, “The harvest should be nearly over by then, at least of the grains. The grapes will be a bit late. We should be able to support them quite well for a few weeks at least. Tell him we should be pleased to have him share our home.”
Guenlian nodded. “Of course. Why do you doubt our hospitality? Is there something about him that we should know, something that keeps you from wanting us to meet him? Tell us now.”
Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The pillow was soft and thick, but he might have been seated on pointed rock for all the comfort it gave him.
“It is not Arthur I worry about, nor his men; though some of them have been brought up more to war and the chase than to fine linen and philosophy. No, Arthur is young still, but he has a good heart and a fine mind. They both need training, as he has spent them primarily on military strategy and earning the devotion of his soldiers. He will not shame me with his manners. But there is a problem which I find very difficult to speak of. I do not wish to put an unfounded fear into your minds.”
He hesitated and Leodegrance jumped in.
“You cannot possibly unnerve us more with your problem than you do now with your evasions and hedgings.”
Merlin bowed his apology. “Yes, it is unpleasant, but I feel I must speak. The disaster I fear is—Guinevere.”
“What! Don’t be ridiculous! She is but a child! What could she do to harm anyone?!”
Both her parents had risen to their feet in indignation. Merlin quelled them with a look.
“Don’t allow your adoration of the child to cloud your judgment in the matter. She is nearly thirteen and shows no signs of the ungainliness or self-consciousness of others of her age. Many of Arthur’s ‘men’ and even Arthur, himself, are barely out of their teens, if that.”
“Are you suggesting that they would behave improperly to her?” Leodegrance roared. At the end of the table Geraldus looked up for a moment. Leodegrance lowered his voice. “Her brothers and I would chop down any man who came within arm’s reach of my daughter!”
“Never fear anything so obvious. They are not the sort to take advantage of the child of a lord as great as you, although all their hosts’ daughters might not fare so well. You might warn the serving maids and fosterlings to be somewhat more circumspect in their dress. Everyone at this place lives in a fantasy world! I truly believe it! But that is not the point. Guinevere is beautiful. You would certainly not deny that. She is also charming of manner and has a special air about her. Perhaps it comes from her family. You have given her everything she could want and protected her as even an emperor’s child was not. There is probably not another child in Christendom so lucky. And to all of this you add the most valuable dowry in Britain. Do you not see the dissension she could cause?”
Guenlian’s head had begun to ache. She felt tears behind her eyelids but refused to let them through. “Not my baby!” she screamed in her heart. But her face remained calm and her voice was as cool as spring rain.
“Possibly, this is true. We have not considered our daughter yet as a marriage prize. But you are right that she is nearing the age when such things must be considered. However, Guinevere is totally innocent of these matters.”
“That makes her all the more alluring . . . and dangerous!” Merlin answered flatly.
“What about her dowry?” Leodegrance interrupted. “I have less real wealth than many of the lords of Britain. No land to speak of, and that will go to my eldest son. Why should anyone think that there is anything else of value I might give along with Guinevere, the brightest jewel of my house?”
His voice was suspicious. He guessed what Merlin was leading to and he wanted it out in the open.
Merlin’s voice was kinder, more normal now. He had said the hardest part and he could relax.
“First, there is the honor of your name. You are one of the oldest and best-born families in Britain. You needn’t wave modestly; you know it’s true and you pride yourselves on it. You should be proud, for you are worthy descendants of the Republic. I would rather have a Roman senator among my forebears than all the emperors combined. Secondly, you have something in your keeping which is of great value. It is not yours, though, no more than it was Uther’s, who gave it to you.”
Leodegrance clenched his jaw.
“Say no more, Merlin. I shall never release the table to any except one I deem worthy of it.”
“How can you do that? You have no idea of its power or its use! Uther knew even less. He was afraid of it and would have burnt it, if I had not insisted that it be given to you. I didn’t know why, then. I just knew that you were the one ordained to hold this thing. But now I am beginning to understand. I don’t want the table revealed any more than you do. But are you aware that all your children have known of this thing, practically since they could walk? It has formed the substance of most of their dares and fantasies since I can remember.”