“I am defending my honour, Lord,” Culhwch answered.
“Your honour is in my service,” Arthur snapped, and the steel in his voice was enough to make me shiver. He was a kind man, but it was easy to forget that he had not become a warlord by mere kindness. He spoke so much of peace and reconciliation, but in battle his soul was released from such concerns and gave itself to slaughter. He threatened slaughter now by putting his hand on Excalibur’s hilt. “Pick up the swords,” he ordered us, ‘unless you wish me to pick them up for you.”
We could not fight our own Lord and so we obeyed him. Galahad followed our example. The surrender left us feeling sullen and cheated, but Arthur, the moment he had restored amity inside his house, smiled once again. He spread his arms in welcome as he strode down the steps and his joy at seeing us was so obvious that my resentment vanished instantly. He embraced his cousin Culhwch, then hugged me and I felt my Lord’s tears on my cheek. “Derfel,” he said, “Derfel Cadarn. Is it really you?”
“None else, Lord.”
“You look older,” he said with a smile.
“You don’t.”
He grimaced. “I was not in Ynys Trebes. I wish that I had been.” He turned to Galahad. “I’ve heard of your bravery, Lord Prince, and I salute you.”
“But don’t insult me, Lord, by believing my brother,” Galahad said bitterly.
“No!” Arthur said. “I will not have quarrels. We shall be friends. I insist upon it.” And he put his arm through mine and led the three of us up the terrace steps where he decreed that we should all embrace with Bors and Lancelot. “There is trouble enough,” he told me quietly when I held back, ‘without this.”
I stepped forward and spread my arms. Lancelot hesitated, then stepped towards me. His oiled hair smelt of violets. “Child,” he whispered in my ear after kissing my cheek.
“Coward,” I whispered back, then we drew apart, smiling.
Bishop Bedwin had tears in his eyes as he hugged me. “Dear Derfel!”
“I have even better news for you,” I told him softly, “Merlin is here.”
“Merlin?” Bedwin stared at me, not daring to believe my news. “Merlin is here? Merlin!” The news spread through the crowd. Merlin was back! Great Merlin had returned. The Christians crossed themselves, but even they recognized the import of the news. Merlin had come to Dumnonia and suddenly the kingdom’s troubles seemed halved.
“So where is he?” Arthur demanded.
“He went out,” I said feebly, gesturing at the gate.
“Merlin.” Arthur shouted. “Merlin.”
But there was no answer. Guards searched for him, but none found him. Later the sentries at the western gate said that an old priest with a hunched back, an eyepatch, a grey cat and a filthy cough had left the city, but they had seen no other white-bearded sage.
“You have been through a dreadful battle, Derfel,” Arthur told me when we were in the palace’s feasting hall where a meal of pork, bread and mead was served. “Men dream strange dreams when they suffer hardships.”
“No, Lord,” I insisted, “Merlin was here. Ask Prince Galahad.”
“I shall,” he said, ‘of course I shall.” He turned to look at the high table where Guinevere leaned on an elbow to listen to Lancelot. “You’ve all suffered,” he said.
“But I failed you, Lord,” I confessed, ‘and for that I am sorry.”
“No, Derfel, no! I failed Ban. But what more could I do? There are so many enemies.” He fell silent, then smiled as Guinevere’s laughter sounded bright in the hall. “I am glad that at least she is happy,” he said, then went to talk to Culhwch who was single-mindedly devouring a whole suckling pig.
Lunete was at the court that night. Her hair was braided and twisted into a flower-studded circlet. She wore torques, brooches and bangles, while her dress was of red-dyed linen girdled with a silver-buckled belt. She smiled at me, brushed dirt off my sleeve then wrinkled her nose at the stink of my clothes. “Scars suit you, Derfel,” she said, lightly touching my face, ‘but you take too many risks.”