“You had your chance of vengeance once,” Nimue accused him harshly, ‘and you let Gundleus live.”
“Because I hoped for peace,” Arthur said. “But next time he dies.”
“Your wife,” Nimue said, ‘promised him to me.”
Arthur shuddered, knowing what cruelty lay behind Nimue’s desire, but he nodded. “He is yours,” he said, “I promise it.” He turned and led the two of us through the pouring rain to the Tor’s summit. Nimue and I were going home, Arthur to see Morgan.
He embraced his sister in the hall. Morgan’s gold mask shone dully in the stormy light, while round her neck she wore the bear claws set in gold that Arthur had brought her from Benoic so very long ago. She clung to him, desperate for affection, and I left them alone. Nimue, almost as though she had never been away from the
Tor, ducked through the small door into Merlin’s rebuilt chambers while I ran through the rain to Gudovan’s hut. I found the old clerk sitting at his desk, but not working for he was blinded with cataracts, though he said he could still make out light and dark. “And mostly it’s dark now,” he said sadly, then smiled. “I suppose you’re too big to hit now, Derfel?”
“You can try, Gudovan,” I said, ‘but it won’t do much good any more.”
“Did it ever?” He chuckled. “Merlin spoke of you when he was here last week. Not that he stayed long. He came, he talked with us, he left us another cat as if we didn’t have enough cats already, and then he left. He didn’t even stay the night, he was in such a hurry.”
“Do you know where he went?” I asked.
“He wouldn’t say, but where do you think he went?” Gudovan asked with a touch of his old asperity. “Chasing Nimue. At least I suppose that’s what he’s doing, though why he should chase that silly girl, I don’t know. He should take a slave!” He paused and suddenly seemed on the edge of tears. “You know Sebile died?” he went on. “Poor woman. She was murdered, Derfel! Murdered! Had her throat slit. No one knows who did it. Some traveller, I assume. The world goes to the dogs, Derfel, to the dogs.” For a moment he seemed lost, then he found the thread of his thoughts again. “Merlin should use a slave. Nothing wrong with a willing slave and there are plenty in town who oblige for a small coin. I use the house down by Gwlyddyn’s old workshop. There’s a nice woman there, though these days we tend to talk more than we bump about the bed. I get old, Derfel.”
“You don’t look old. And Merlin isn’t chasing Nimue. She’s here.”
Thunder sounded again and Gudovan’s hand found a small piece of iron that he stroked for protection against evil. “Nimue here?” he asked in amazement. “But we heard she was on the Isle!” He touched the iron again.
“She was,” I said flatly, ‘but isn’t now.”
“Nimue…” He said the name almost in disbelief. “Is she staying?”
“No, we all go east today.”
“And leaving us alone?” he asked petulantly. “I miss Hywel.”
“So do I.”
He sighed. “Times change, Derfel. The Tor isn’t what it was.
We’re all old now and there are no children left. I miss them, and poor Druidan has no one to chase. Pellinore rants to emptiness, while Morgan is bitter.”
“Wasn’t she always?” I asked lightly.
“She has lost her power,” he explained. “Not her power to tell dreams or heal the sick, but the power she enjoyed when Merlin was here and Uther was on the throne. She resents that, Derfel, just as she resents your Nimue.” He paused, thinking. “She was especially angry when Guinevere sent for Nimue to fight Sansum about that church in Durnovaria. Morgan believes she should have been summoned, but we hear that the Lady Guinevere wants no one but the beautiful around her and where does that leave Morgan?” He chuckled at the question. “But she’s still a strong woman, Derfel, and she has her brother’s ambition so she won’t be content to stay here listening to the dreams of peasants and grinding herbs to cure the milk-fever. She’s bored! So bored that she even plays throw board with that wretched Bishop Sansum from the shrine. Why did they send him to Ynys Wydryn?”