“Which are?”
“There is only one condition. Arthur’s death. Gorfyddyd will never forgive Arthur for the slight to Ceinwyn. Can you blame him?” Bedwin shrugged and walked a few paces in silence. “The real danger,” he went on, ‘is if Gorfyddyd does find the money to bring Aelle back into the war. We can’t pay more to the Saxons. We’ve nothing left. The treasury is empty. Who’ll pay taxes to a dying regime? And we can’t spare any spearmen to collect the taxes.”
“There’s plenty of gold in there,” I said, jerking my head towards the hall where the sounds of the feast were loud. “Lunete was wearing enough,” I added sourly.
“The Princess Guinevere’s ladies,” Bedwin said bitterly ‘are not expected to contribute their jewels to the war. Even if they did, I doubt there’d be enough to bribe Aelle again, and if he does attack us in the autumn, Derfel, then those men who want Arthur’s life won’t whisper their demand, they’ll shout it from the ramparts. Arthur, of course, could simply leave. He could go to Broceliande, I suppose, then Gorfyddyd would take young Mordred into his care and we’d just be a client kingdom ruled from Powys.”
I paced in silence. I had no idea things were so desperate.
Bedwin smiled sadly. “So it seems, my young friend, that you have jumped from the seething pot into the fire. There will be work for your sword, Derfel, and soon, never fear.”
“I had wanted time to visit Ynys Wydryn’ I said.
“To find Merlin again?”
“To find Nimue,” I said.
He stopped. “You hadn’t heard?”
Something cold caressed my heart. “I’ve heard nothing. I thought she might be here in Durnovaria.”
“She was,” Bedwin said. “Princess Guinevere fetched her. I was surprised she came, but she did. You have to understand, Derfel, that Guinevere and Bishop Sansum remember him? How could you forget him? he and she are at odds. Nimue was Guinevere’s weapon. God knows what she thought Nimue could do, but Sansum did not wait to find out. He preached against Nimue as a witch. Some of my fellow Christians, I fear, are not full of kindness and Sansum preached that she should be stoned to death.”
“No!” I protested.
“No, no!” He held up a hand to calm me. “She fought back by bringing the pagans of the countryside into the town. They sacked Sansum’s new chapel, there was a riot and a dozen people died, though neither she nor Sansum were hurt. The King’s guards panicked, thinking it was an attack on Mordred. It wasn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop them using their spears. Then Nimue was arrested by Nabur, the magistrate responsible for the King, and he found her guilty of stirring up revolt. He would, of course, being a Christian. Bishop Sansum demanded her death, the Princess Guinevere demanded Nimue’s release, and in between those two demands Nimue rotted in Nabur’s cells.” Bedwin paused and I could see from his face that the worst was still to come. “She went mad, Derfel,” the Bishop at last continued. “It was like caging a falcon, you see, and she rebelled against her bars. She went screaming mad. No one could restrain her.”
I knew what was coming and shook my head. “No,” I said.
“The Isle of the Dead,” Bedwin gave the awful news. “What else could they do?”
“No!” I protested again, for Nimue was on the Isle of the Dead, lost among the broken ones, and I could not bear to think of that fate. “She has her Third Wound,” I said softly.
“What?” Bedwin cupped an ear.
“Nothing,” I said. “Does she live?”
“Who knows? No living person goes there, or if they do, they cannot return.”
“But that’s where Merlin must have gone!” I cried in relief. Merlin had doubtless heard the news from the man he had been whispering with at the back of the courtyard, and Merlin could do what no other man or woman dare do. The Isle of the Dead would hold no terrors for Merlin. What else would have made him vanish so precipitately? In a day or two, I thought, he would return to Durnovaria with Nimue rescued and restored. It had to be thus.