“Is Ceinwyn really blessed?” I asked him.
He looked astonished at the unexpected question. “Why should it matter to you? But she’s a pretty girl, and I confess that pretty girls are a weakness of mine so I shall weave her a charm of bliss. I did the same for you once, Derfel, though not because you are pretty.” He laughed, then glanced through the window to judge the length of the sun’s shadows. “I must be on my way soon.”
“What brought you here, Lord?” Galahad asked.
“I needed to talk to lorweth,” Merlin said, looking around to make sure that he had collected all his belongings. “He might be a bumbling idiot, but he does possess the odd scrap of knowledge I might have momentarily forgotten. He proved knowledgeable about the Ring of Eluned. I have it somewhere.” He patted the pockets sewn into the lining of his robe. “Well, I did have it,” he said carelessly, though I suspected the indifference was merely a pretence.
“What is the Ring of Eluned?” Galahad asked.
Merlin scowled at my friend’s ignorance, then decided to indulge it. “The Ring of Eluned,” he announced grandly, ‘is one of the Thirteen Treasures of Britain. We’ve always known about the Treasures, of course at least, those of us who recognize the true Gods,” he added pointedly, glancing at Galahad, ‘but none of us were sure what their real power was.”
“And the scroll told you?” I asked.
Merlin smiled wolfishly. His long white hair was neatly bound in black ribbon at the back of his neck while his beard was plaited in tight pigtails. “The scroll,” he said, ‘confirmed everything I either suspected or knew, and it even suggested one or two new scraps of knowledge. Ah, here it is.” He had been searching his pockets for the Ring which he now produced. To me the treasure looked like any ordinary warrior’s ring made of iron, but Merlin held it in his palm as though it was the greatest jewel of Britain. “The Ring of Eluned,” Merlin said, ‘forged in the Otherworld at the beginning of time. Piece of metal really, nothing special.” He tossed it to me and I made a hasty catch. “By itself,” Merlin said, ‘the Ring has no power. None of the Treasures has power by themselves. The Mantle of Invisibility won’t make you invisible, any more than the Horn of Bran Galed sounds any better than any other hunting horn. By the way, Derfel, did you fetch Nimue?”
“Yes.”
“Well done. I thought you would. Interesting place, the Isle of the Dead, don’t you think? I go there when I need some stimulating company. Where was I? Oh, yes, the Treasures. Worthless rubbish, really. You wouldn’t give the Coat of Padarn to a beggar, not if you were kind, yet it’s still one of the Treasures.”
“Then what use are they?” Galahad asked. He had taken the Ring from me, but now handed it back to the Druid.
“They command the Gods, of course,” Merlin snapped, as though the answer should have been obvious. “By themselves they’re tawdry nothings, but put them all together and you can have the Gods hopping like frogs. It isn’t enough just to gather the Treasures, of course,” he added hastily, ‘there are one or two other rituals that are needed. And who knows if it will all work? No one has ever tried, so far as I know. Is Nimue well?” he asked me earnestly.
“She is now.”
“You sound resentful! You think I should have gone to fetch her?
My dear Derfel, I am quite busy enough without running around Britain after Nimue! If the girl can’t cope with the Isle of the Dead then what earthly use is she?”
“She could have died,” I accused him, thinking of the ghouls and cannibals of the Isle.
“Of course she could! What’s the point of an ordeal if there’s no danger? You do have infantile ideas, Derfel.” Merlin shook his head pityingly, then slipped the Ring on to one of his long bony fingers. He stared solemnly at us, and we each waited awestruck for some manifestation of supernatural power, but after a few ominous seconds Merlin just laughed at our expressions. “I told you!” he said, ‘the Treasures are nothing special.”