The Arthur who would go forth from here need not tremble before any ill-speaking or shadow of the Dark. He was becoming the ruler he would have been if that fashioning of him not been delayed for all these weary years.
14.
Night and day passed, then another night before Arthur at last rose from the bench and turned to face Merlin. There was no light in his eyes now, rather the dour look of a man who must set his will to some great task and summon therefore all his innermost energy.
“You have seen… ?” Merlin asked.
“I have seen,” the King answered. “If this is some dream, then at least I have seen enough to know that a man can live for and by such a dream.” He hesitated. “But kin-brother, we are not like other men. There will be those who would turn their faces from any belief, even if they were shown something they could touch with their own hands. I—“ He shook his head slowly. “A man can but try.”
Merlin watched him narrowly. There was no exultation in Arthur, only a kind of grimness, as if he had accepted some burden which he must bear whether he wanted to or not.
“I wonder,” the King said now, “if this time is wrongly chosen. Men have lived with fear so long that now they look on each new thing, every stranger, as a threat.”
That question matched some of Merlin’s recurring doubts. Had men come far enough yet to want to reach for the stars?
“Closed minds,” Arthur continued. “Can you,” he said, turning to Merlin, “believe that any of this”—he waved his hand about the cave—“will now be thought anything but the work of demons? You have known this since childhood. I come to it a man grown and tried, so that I can understand such fears. And fear leads to hate and destruction. Also, there is the Lady of the Lake.”
“What of her?” Merlin moved uneasily.
“If she is the enemy, then we must know more of her, wherein lies the root of her own powers.”
“She knows me,” Merlin returned. “I have long been her enemy. If I sought her out…”
Arthur nodded. “Just so. But she served Uther well, being noted for her healing gifts. We have begun an imposture here with our excuse of fever which has struck me down. Well, can we continue that? I shall return to Camelot a stricken man and those about me will send for this Nimue. It will be your part, kin-brother, to be reviled as one who has boasted of cures he cannot make. Perhaps you must even be resigned to exile for a space.”
Merlin had one objection. “Lord King, I know of this woman and I have tasted her powers. What if you cannot stand against her? Then indeed you shall be sacrificed and all our plans will come to nothing.”
“That is a fortune we must dare. I see no other way to best her, for otherwise she will spin her spells and these will reach to enmesh us, as a spider web enmeshes the unwary fly, when we need to make some necessary move. Kin-brother, you seem unusually wary of this Nimue— why?”
Merlin flushed. “Is it not enough that she held me captive when I had need to aid you? The mirror has told me little of what forces the Dark Ones can command, but what I have seen of those has been daunting. To offer yourself as her prey might be the greatest act of folly in our world!”
“It may,” Arthur agreed. “Still, I know that we must draw her from cover. Men say that no one can seek her out unless she wills it, that great mists curl around that ancient keep she has taken for her own, hiding her dwelling from the eyes of all. But if I can hold her at Camelot then you, with your greater knowledge of such forces, might well penetrate to that secret place of hers and discover just how strong is the support she can call on.”
Arthur thought in terms of warfare. Merlin must reluctantly agree, however, that this risky form of attack just might succeed.
“Did you learn this from the mirror?” he asked in return.
Arthur sighed. “The mirror leaves to men their own choices. It can show what may happen, but that future constantly changes with the acts of man.”
“That is true. Very well, it shall be as you wish. Lord King.” But even as he agreed. Merlin remained uneasy. Arthur was the chosen King. It was for him to make the decisions now that he had learned his role, but he had not yet met the Dark Ones face to face, only seen something of their work in the affair of Modred. He did not know Nimue except as a healer and a figure of some mystery.
They worked together to close the cave and then took a secret way back to the ruins, evading two sentries Arthur cursed under his breath for their lack of attention. Bleheris awaited them in the inner chamber.
“It is well you have come. Lord King,” he said with open relief. “The men grow restless. Twice Tirion has come asking how you do. He has threatened to send a messenger to Lord Gawain at the other fort—“
“I do badly, Bleheris,” the King returned. “Listen well, shield comrade, this is what must be done. You will go out among the men and say that the fever which grips me is worse. Then Merlin will follow straightaway and order that branches be cut and a horse litter made. You will be ever by me, but when you fetch food or drink you will speak of my strange ravings and that I am fevered worse than you have seen any man before, that you are disturbed in mind because of this illness which has come over me. Do you understand?”
The small Pict looked from the King to Merlin and back to Arthur again.
“This is some battle ruse, Lord King?”
Arthur nodded. “But it is for a kind of battle which is not fought with swords nor spears. I must be returned to Camelot as one who is gravely ill, and only you and Merlin must tend me on the way, so that the truth may not be guessed.”
Bleheris looked now to the curtained doorway of the room.
“Lord King, these men will be alarmed. They do not like this place. They have been speaking among themselves of the ghosts of old ones who do not favor the company of living men and who have thus struck at you. This talk can become dangerous—“
It was Merlin who answered: “Demon-attack, Lord King, might well serve our purpose.”
Arthur’s face was sober. “But dangerous for you, Merlin. Such whispers have always spread about you. They can say that this attack is of your doing if we speak of demons.”
“True enough. However, such a report will serve our turn well. Let it stand. Go, Bleheris. Do not add anything to this talk of ghosts, but look knowing when you hear it, as if you could say more if you would.”
The Pict grinned. “Lord Merlin, I do not know what game you and the High King play but if it is your will, I shall do my best to make it come right for you.”
As Arthur had planned, so was it done. The High King developed certain symptoms induced by Merlin’s herb knowledge, making him flushed of face, hot of skin. Bleheris reported that the men of the following were now convinced that their leader was demon-attacked and that they had begun to look askance at Merlin. The Pict was given his own instructions. Once they reached Camelot he was to whisper it about that only the Lady of the Lake, who had kept Uther visibly alive when all other healers had given him up for near dead, should be summoned.
The lords of Arthur’s following were persistent, as each group joined the train on their return, that they see the King for themselves. But, when they did, the High King seemed to lie in a stupor; Merlin gave the impression of one who was gravely troubled, as if, in spite of his well known healing knowledge, he was now faced by an illness he found baffling.
He was well aware that Cedric had sent a messenger ahead and he was not surprised when, just a half day’s journey away—for they made that trip slowly, fitting their progress to that of the rough horse litter they had devised—the messenger returned with one of the graycoated priests. To Merlin’s relief it was not Gildas, though he was well able to read the hostility of the man. When the Priest attempted to see the King, however, Arthur cried out that there was a new demon to torment him, and he acted so well the part of a man half crazed with a high fever that the priest was forced to withdraw.